It should have been fairly cold outside, but the weekend crowd in Diagon Alley did warm the streets a little. Lyra stuck her gloved hands in the pockets of her overcoat, wandering the maze of streets until she finally found the place she was looking for.

The aroma of coffee hit her sinuses like a train as she entered, but it only made her grin lopsidedly in anticipation of having a good dose of caffeine in her system. There were quite a number of customers in the café, no doubt getting themselves a hot drink on such a cold day. She cast her gaze around for the person she was meant to meet up with, to give the requisite greeting before getting their orders.

Meeting Cepheus could have gone a little better, she mused, if she hadn’t let slip her first reason for remembering him was watching him get shoved into a dung heap at Hogwarts. Lyra would have pulled him out if it were not for her fellow Slytherin perpetrators thinking of having her share it with him. That he would remember her was more of a surprise, since she had only stood by to watch in sympathy.

But bygones were bygones. She was more sympathetic that he’d agreed to come out in this weather to catch up with her, which was nice of him. Sure their family had been friends, but the Averys weren’t exactly on speaking terms with a lot of people lately.

“Ah!” She finally saw him and waved vigorously to catch his attention. Pulling her mittens off, she weaved around people to reach him. “‘Sup? I mean, how are you doin’?” Lyra stuffed her gloves into a pocket as she beamed. “I’ll order the coffee, just let me know whatcha want. Not sure what your seatin’ preferences are, but I’ll letcha pick. I take a while to decide and someone might grab the good seat while I’m mullin’ over it, y’know?”

The working week did not lend itself to catch ups over coffee. Cepheus had felt bad to palm Lyra Avery off with a promise of catching up for coffee mid afternoon on Saturday, but the end of a month and the arrival of the next always brought a busy week in government. Preparations and patrols were set to step up for next week’s full moon. Cepheus was sure he wasn’t imagining an anxious undercurrent on Level Four, given their Department Head had been murdered the previous moon. They were all adjusting to Balfour Spectre’s leadership, one which Cepheus welcomed, but had to bite his tongue over how others had spoken to him during the hurried selection process.

January had nudged him from one setback to another in his personal life, which was why it was important to find the time to blow through the cobwebs with the extroverts once in a while. Firstly his brother’s unannounced time in London, and now an old family friend. That was one benefit of being a Gamp, they’d grown up knowing anyone who was worth knowing, and who had survived Voldemort.

On entering Alohomocha he’d been drawn into conversation with a work acquaintance from Transport, at at a table with his young sons on a Saturday shopping trip. As such, Cepheus hadn’t been in the queue or occupying a table when Lyra had arrived, waving vigorously.
“Ah, there she is. Good to see you mate,” he curtailed the polite conversation and returned a friendly, but less energetic wave to Avery.

“Sup? I mean, you are you doin’?”
“Alright,” Cepheus replied, as was customary for any Brit, “just chatting to a bloke from Transport.” He thumbed a little to the father and two sons, who were new finishing up their drinks and making to leave, complete with packages purchased. “You?”
“I’ll order the coffee, just let me know whatcha want. Not sure what your seatin’ preferences are-” Lyra chattered on. Cepheus inhaled, glancing from her to the menu above the counter.
“I’ll have a lumo, please,” Cepheus requested. He was almost always a tea drinker, so his forays into the coffee world were combined with milk and sugar to soften the blow. “They’ve dragon coffee, you know,” he added quickly, pointing to the Hebridean Black, “if you’re into that.” He gave her a friendly smile. “I’ll go find us a table. Thanks for buying.”

“I’m all sortsa good. And no biggie! It’ll be my treat,” Lyra called after him. She got into the line rubbing her hands absently, her eyes following Cepheus’s figure to see where he was going and remember the table he’d picked. The cafe had barely one or two tables left, and the last thing she wanted was accidentally taking the long route to a wrong table and then having to navigate the tight spaces with coffees in hand to the right one.

His suggestion did not go unheeded, and after a quick clarification from the barista on exactly what the phrase dragon coffee entailed she was all in for it. It was but a moment to wait for both drinks, and another to head to where Cepheus was seated. She set them down carefully on the table, sliding his order towards him gently before taking her coat off to reveal one of her usually loud graphic tees, draping it over the back of her chair and sliding into her seat. She was directly facing the door, she noted.

“I don’t remember much about a coffee place that does a dragon drink, but thanks to you for suggestin’ it,” she said cheerfully. “Blimey it’s been a while since I’ve been back here and all, Diagon’s changed and not changed at the same time. Different shops, same old face.”

Lyra took a sip, swallowed and immediately coughed with a genuinely delighted smile. “Perfect. I love this already. So, what’s been goin’ on with you, the family, the Ministry?” she asked. “I’ve only heard one or two things along the grapevine, but the grapevine’s never had sure footin’ to keep all the news in one piece by the time it gets to the other end. Ever. The only thing I know is the werewolf business, it’s gone a little international so to speak.”

She picked up her cup. “I’ll letcha answer. Let me know if I talk too much, I’m tryin’ to work on it. Family, work, country. Don't feel too pressured to tell me everythin' though, unless you gotta be somewhere pronto."

Cepheus[1] slipped his woolly hat from his dark hair and untied his scarf as he took a seat at the far side of the cafe.

The table gave a little shudder beneath his fingertips as he touched it. This was nothing untoward, he remembered, as spilled sugar on the woodgrain spiralled up and vanished into thin air.

Lyra was busy quizzing the figure behind the counter about the coffee, gesturing to the menu as she did. Cepheus slid his leather jacket off, unable to shake the feeling that he was somewhat influenced by Orion.

“I don’t remember much about a coffee place that does a dragon drink,” Lyra remarked once they were both settled. She had slipped her own coat from her shoulders, sporting a decorated t-shirt beneath that reminded Ceph of the days he wore band t-shirts in his twenties. Gods, was he getting old?

“Just enough changes,” Cepheus agreed, “that those of us here don’t notice, but to those gone a while it seems brand new.” He raised his drink in a kind of toast, “thanks for the coffee.”

She’d gone for the Hebridean Black by the look of it. Cepheus was glad she found it to her taste. It was altogether too bitter for him, as a tea drinker over coffee, usually. But there had seemed something wrong about drinking it here, with this company.

“I’ve only heard one or two things along the grapevine… the only thing I know is the werewolf business, it’s gone a little international so to speak.”

“Which bit?” Cepheus genuinely asked as she finished rattling on and looked to him for answers. “There’s been more than a bit of werewolf news to hit the continent since you were last here, but I imagine you mean the most recent.” His lips formed a straight line as he thought back to it. “The news that put Balfour in post.” He knew she’d gone to see him, Lyra was more than enough chatty to mean the whole floor had heard.

“Our Head of Department, Carter, was targeted at home. Not a freak accident, something organised.” He didn’t know the gory details. He hadn’t cared to know - he didn’t need to know. “While the others were kept busy with a compromised safehouse. Bruce Ballentyne’s first full moon in post. Went all the way to the top in response.” Cepheus gestured upwards with a single finger.

“I count myself lucky the werewolf wing was formed before my time and doesn’t fall into my remit. That was more than a handful. The Ministry diviners and arithmancers are hoping it was divine or numerical fate to have them both occur on the same full moon, and that the next will be more auspicious.” He sipped his coffee, though his expression suggested he might not like it, it was rather more the thought of the conversation.

“I’m not really the best source if you’re looking for the grizzly details,” he admitted. “Have you grown tired of telling people what you’re up to, these days, or can I ask?” He tilted his head a little in curiosity. “Is this trip a brief visit or more of an interview. Spectre recruiting you to Four.” He posed it as less of a question, more of an obvious statement.

1.	Nuri Dressed me

She drank from her coffee as she listened to him list off the news, her eyes keeping steady watch in what could be called uncharacteristic silence from her. As he finished she lowered his cup, green gaze unmoving.

“Hmm, well let’s see.” Lyra set the cup down on the table, stuck out a hand with fingers splayed and pressed one index finger against the other. “Heard about Carter, nasty way to go, sorry about that, news was scant but I’m sure I don’t need the grisly bits about how he was torn apart anyway.” Her index finger landed on the next one in line. “Heard about the compromised safehouse, and we got lotsa wizarding pundits on the news arguin’ over what this means for werewolf rights in Britain. Kinda scary if you ask me.”

Another finger. “I did not hear about Ballentyne, now that’s ballsy but when you’ve got a lot of lives at stake I think I get her, yknow?” Lyra looked approving regardless. “And of course, Balfour up top now. Appointed, I hear, not elected. I was, like, super surprised at how fast the news came out after Carter’s death.” The dragonologist raised her eyebrows at him. “Wasn't there anyone else considered for the post? Or were you guys like in a hurry about it?”

She lowered her hand back to the table. “So what will you guys do to the Ministry diviners if they get their Rune-O-Vision wrong, and the next full moon is just as sucky as the first?” Lyra grinned. "As for why I’m here - you’re the first to ask outside of the loop, actually.” She put up her fingers and pointed them left. “Britain,” pointed to the right, “Germany,” pointed to herself, “me, liaison. I’m here for a month dealin’ with the first case, an unidentified dragon breed. Then who knows, I’ll be back and forth like a mouse scurryin’ between good waterin’ holes most likely. Spectre recruitin’? Nah. Not me.”

Lyra paused, her eyes now looking towards the door rather than the old family friend. “I ain’t comin’ back here to live, at least not permanently. I don’t really wanna leave my mum by herself, and there’s not much reason yet to stay. She still has a lot of strong opinions about England, y’know?” She looked back at him with a chuckle. “And dad, well… he hasn’t really stopped about the blood thing. He’s more subtle about it now, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

She clasped her hands in front of her. “How’s family on your end? All still good? Makin’ names for yourself just like your great-whoever did with ol’ Gamp’s Law? I’m jokin’ on the last one,” she added hastily.

She might not be recruited now, Cepheus thought, but if she was here a month, there was plenty of time to be convinced. With the efficiency of the international floo, one could push to commute back and forth across Europe every couple of days.

“… I don’t really wanna leave my mum by herself…” Lyra chattered on, and Cepheus sat quietly beside, content to let her. “… dad, well… he hasn’t really stopped the blood thing. He’s more subtle about it now, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” Cepheus made a quiet hum and lifted his drink to his lips, gaze drifting sideways from Lyra at that description.

“How’s family on your end? All still good? Makin’ names for yourself just like your great-whoever did with ol’ Gamp’s Law? I’m jokin’ on the last one.”

“No Laws created,” Cepheus confirmed, just broken. “Andromeda’s an auror, and has been since she left school. Doing really well. Not a senior, but there’s time…” Cepheus always thought there was time, until that nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him of the risks aurors took and their careers cut short. Outwardly, there was only a hesitation between sibling descriptions.

“Orion’s still off round the world - well, not right this moment, he’s made a surprise visit - but he writes for this wizarding travel company, so he is forever away visiting somewhere new. Suits him.” He smiled, genuinely, glad his brother’s nomadic lifestyle made him happy.

“Ariadne’s all grown up, my niece that is, Ri’s daughter. She’s finished Hogwarts and shadowing Ginny Potter-Weasley at the Daily Prophet. She’s a lucky, lucky girl.” Cepheus couldn’t quite believe the baby who had arrived when he was still studying at Hogwarts was writing for the daily newspaper.

“All go, Gamp family,” he added a little more sheepishly. “How’s your mum then? You must be close by if you don’t want to leave her by herself?”

If she had been in more familiar company she would be interjecting after almost every statement made from the other side. But she wasn’t in more familiar company, so she refrained from speaking and merely watched Cepheus as he spoke. It would be a little unnerving if he noticed; she tended to watch every little thing intensely as if her life depended on it.

“You lot seem to be doing pretty well, alright,” she said when he’d finished. “All progressin’ in life, findin’ people to be with, findin’ a niche in the world for yourself, you bein’ Head of Beast Division. Sounds good, and I’m bein’ honest. Real happy to see you doin’ well.” Lyra smiled warmly. “All them brothers and sisters and relatives. Hell, I don’t even know what my b--” She paused. Cepheus did know she had a brother, but she rarely ever wanted to talk about him. None of her family did, much. “Never mind that. Some things best left to lie right where they are.”

She took another sip of her coffee, clearly enjoying it. “How’s your mum then? You must be close by if you don’t want to leave her by herself?”

“We’re in Heidelberg, Germany,” she clarified, setting her cup down and taking her intense stare off of him. “Just a hop, skip and a jump through the International Floo at Berlin. That said, I got a job down at the Black Forest Dragon Reserve. Keepin’ an eye on migration routes, nestin’ sites, preventin’ Muggle sightings, givin’ educational talks at schools about dragons and takin’ care of ‘em… I got my hands full.” Her eyes turned to look at him. “So if Spectre wants to recruit, he’s in for a disappointment unless he can make a better offer than dragons in the field.”

Lyra shifted herself, arms on the table as she leaned against it, glancing away from him. “My mum’s alright. Havin’ a bit of peace. She didn’t want me to come back here, yknow? But I’ve told her that dragons are a lot more risky than ‘England’s ouroboros tendencies’, at least that’s what she calls it,” she rolled her eyes a little, “and she’s conceded that I can handle it. She's just worried for me, nothin' wrong with that.”

She reached out to pick up her cup again, but hesitated. Her brow furrowed.

“...why would Balfour be recruitin’?” she asked, looking back up at him. “Serious lack o’ manpower after Carter? I’d be of no use on werewolves or vampires, yeah I read about your vampire business ongoings too. Non-sentient magical creatures, that’s my forte. I’ll help the best I can with those, like right now with the dragon breed mystery, but,” she sucked in air through her teeth in a hiss, “well, you know where I live now. Just call me if you need me. I won’t get mad about it, I promise.” She flashed him a sincere toothy grin.

“I’ll be back here often for a friend-- if I can find a friend, and now that the German Ministry has got a liaison they’ll probably knock on my door about it later in the year too. Between you and me, I foresee a lot of Germany knockin' on my door.” Lyra picked up her cup to drink, a signal to Cepheus that he could start talking again.

“… you bein’ Head of Beast Division…” Cepheus gave a polite smile, even though she was mistaken. He let her rattle on about her mum and her job in Germany. Cepheus had heard of the Black Forest Dragon Reserve. The area was rich with magical heritage and magical creatures too. It seemed very logical to have drawn Lyra Avery’s interest, and the breadth of her duties suited her boundless energy.

“So if Spectre wants to recruit, he’s in for a disappointment unless he can make a better offer than dragons in the field.” Cepheus pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows suggestively, setting down his mug to sit back.

He’d planted the seed of suspicion now, and Lyra was the sort to hold a one-sided conversation once an idea was planted.

“… why would Balfour be recruitin’?” She asked, “Serious lack o’ manpower after Carter?” Cepheus folded his arms slowly, lips still pressed together purposefully as she mused on the vampire reports lately and then on Germany being a whole country able to knock on a door. Cepheus had a passing thought about whether Lyra had encountered Balfour’s fiancée, as they could probably both talk the hind-legs off a table.

“Balfour’s Department Head now, one of his many duties is to keep an eye out for talent. And Fournier’s Head of Beast Division, not me. I’m Beings - I’m the one dealing with the vampires, elves, goblins, giants and such.” Cepheus gently pointed to himself, arms unfolding. “Dragon handlers tend to have short careers, that’s all,” Cepheus shrugged, “we’ve had a couple of good ones retire recently[1], Balfour’s been promoted,” … again… “and Fournier’s climbed the ladder. One would imagine there’s room for experienced hands, though you’re right, not my Division, what would I know.” He gave a shrug and wrapped his hands back round his mug, blinking slowly.

1.	Margo Amherst and Alphonse Zephyr

“Beings. Sorry, that’s right. Right slip of the tongue that.” Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose, scrunching her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. “_{Maybe that was too much caffeine.} Well… I ain’t gonna deny that dragon handlers don’t live long. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t worried about it myself.”

One hand reached out for her cup to drink, but she glanced at the quarter of black left and changed her mind, pushing it out of the way to the right. Her gaze followed it, away from Cepheus. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t plan on workin’ here, really. Just between you and me, I’m not comfy with England much these days for a lot o’ reasons. Some of ‘em family related, others just bad memories.

“‘Sides, I see Spectre’s name enough in the reserve. His name’s in their dragon handler hall of fame plaque that’s, like, on full display in the lobby. See it every mornin’ at work, ha ha ha.” Her laugh was more weary and dry than mirthful. “Don’t tell ‘im, I beg you.”

She looked up at him, though her head was still angled downwards.“You don’t… seem too happy about the, uh, shufflin’ on the ladder goin’ on. Office politics, that sort? Or somethin’ on your mind? No judgin’, just not every day I feel tetchiness from someone.”

“… I see Spectre’s name enough… dragon handler hall of fame plaque…” Lyra admitted. Cepheus swallowed down the green colour that threatened his expression at talk of Balfour. They were friends. He shouldn’t be jealous, he should be proud.

“You don’t seem too happy about the shufflin’…”

Crap.

“… not every day I feel tetchiness from someone.”

“Really?” Cepheus replied, “I mean, I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant it to sound like that… to come across like that.” He looked away, and then down at his hands. There was an awkward pause, and Cepheus somewhat hoped Lyra might fill it with her chatter.

“I’m happy for him, really.” He managed, though it sounded like he was gritting his teeth, and he didn’t look at Lyra as he said it. “Alright, maybe a teensy bit jealous.” He pinched his fingertips together to illustrate, and colour reddened his cheeks. “It’s not that he deserves it, just that people made comments about how I wasn’t cut out for applying.” He hunched his shoulders, lips pouting sulkily. “It’s stupid, really it is. I need to get over it.”

Despite whatever he might have been hoping for her to do, Lyra didn’t fill in any of his pauses. She had no intentions of interrupting him partially out of manners and partially because she’d always been one to encourage people to talk things out.

“People be people,” she said, her eyes affixed on the spot in the air where his fingertips had pressed upon each other and the emphasis of ‘teensy bit’. “I’m sorry to hear that, it’s not on. You coulda had personal reasons for not applyin’ and it was none o’ their business.” She looked up at him. “For what my opinion’s worth to you, I don’t think it’s stupid to feel jealous. Just human.”

Lyra finally did pick up her cup again, raising it to her lips as her gaze drifted to the side. Her hand lowered, the gap between the white rim and her lips widening. “So I guess a lot of people been seein’ you as not climbin’ the ladder, unlike comparatively successful Spectre? Enough about him then. What’s the good stuff you’ve done all this time? I wanna hear you talk about somethin' you are proud of doin'.” She beamed at him encouragingly.

“… I don’t think it’s stupid to feel jealous. Just human.”

“Thanks.” Cepheus replied, sincerely. He breathed out noisily and let his shoulders sink down.

“What’s the good stuff you’ve done all this time? I wanna hear you talk about somethin’ you are proud of doin’.”

Lyra was a breath of fresh air at the moment. Cepheus couldn’t help but smile at her question. He sat back, and contemplated his answer.

“Well, I’m a damn fine Division Head,” he began, eyes to the ceiling in thought, fingers loosely clasping his mug. His imposter syndrome made that hard to say ordinarily. Lyra’s encouragement had momentarily cancelled it out, especially since he’d got his irritation off his chest. “I’m proud of that.” He shrugged, blinking gently as he allowed himself that moment of self-congratulations.

“I’m proud giant numbers are back up to something respectable post-war, that I was on the team sorting that out even before I took over the Division. Beat working in the Goblin Office, but that was my fault for spending time at Gringotts.” He switched to the rasping, rather unreassuring click of gobbledegook, “Helps to speak their tongue.” He repeated in English after with a shrug. “I don’t speak giant though.” He wagged a finger at Lyra as if anticipating she’d ask. “I guess I’m not one to brag. Come on, show me how it’s done. What’s been your greatest success since Hogwarts?”