The winter sun had not yet begun to tickle the horizon when Edwin rose. He descended his dark staircase in careful silence. His wand softly lit the way until he alighted at the foot, and the lamps spluttered into life, throwing warm light on his surroundings.

Edwin’s home had been built by muggles, and adapted for magic. The living room stretched out to his left, with fireplace, and two long low sofas for entertaining. Behind, and before floor to ceiling glass, was a long dining table. This early morning, the coffee table bore marks of the previous evening, an empty wine bottle, glasses, and a copy of yesterday’s Prophet. The dining table carried a pile of dossiers which had regrettably followed him home from the office.

To his right was his kitchen, where Edwin pointed his wand now, attending to his primary requirement after sleep: coffee.

Some minutes later he settled, coffee in hand, at the dining table, and opened the first of the leather dossiers. The coffee was hot and bitter, but it woke his sleep-deprived senses. The house was chilly first thing on a February morning, despite the warm dressing gown he was wearing and the slippers on his feet. In silence he sat reading. The atmosphere only punctuated by the distant sound of passing muggle cars, the call of early birds and eventual footsteps on the stairs behind.

Hester Iravani woke alone. It was still dark. The sheets were tidy. Cool. Had he left? She was alert. This bed was not her own. The hour was early yet. The room held a chill. She collected her thoughts. Her clothes.

She found him. Bent over papers. Working already. In his dressing gown. He had made coffee for one. He did not expect her to wake. Or she was not to stay.

"You really do not sleep." Said Hester. She laid her hand across his shoulders. Spied on his reading. "Could not or cannot though?" Was this care or concern? "Any coffee left?"

He could still smell the faint notes of her perfume as she came close. Her touch was affection and interaction he had missed in many months as an unmarried Minister. But equally it brought strange regret for a situation born out of Hester’s desire to climb ladders.

“No,” Edwin replied, flipping the leather book closed, obscuring the contents from curious eyes. He realised with an awkward pause as he looked up at her, that she had asked more than one question. “Yes, yes there’s coffee. Here, let me…” He got to his feet, putting space between them.

“Much on my mind,” he decided to tell Hester. She might be climbing a ladder here, but she was also proving to be loyal. He could do with loyalty. The way Kuester looked at him these days and the reports he had received suggested something could be moving against him. “I am unused to company at home. It’s been … some time.”

He held out another coffee to her, knowing how she took it without asking again. Before his election, he’d had far more of a reputation for chasing skirt with varied success. Since his appointment, that had all changed. Edwin took his job seriously, and his long tenure as a Department Head had sent him looking for extra excitement in women (not always romantically, to the Leaky Cauldron’s explosive distress.)

Her gaze was not welcome. The Minister's secret documents. She stayed by the table. Let him have his distance. Was this regret? Did she make him uncomfortable? He had been very comfortable last night. She saw the wine bottle still on the coffee table. It had been the second. Was he showing vulnerability?

"I understand Edwin." Said Hester. "Lonely job..." Their hands brushed. She smiled. Held his gaze. "Last night was..." She was stuck for the right word. She tried to read his face. Last night was a mistake? Last night was nice? Last night was something to repeat? "... unexpected, but a pleasure." She lied.

Before he could say otherwise. Hester kissed his cheek. Smoothed her hand down his arm.
"Thank you for the coffee."

It would be an equal lie to say he disliked her touch, her affection, but he wouldn’t admit.
“Pleasure,” he echoed her choice of word. Accepting this transaction of coffee as a full stop on the night before. A follow-up sentence yet to be determined.

“One of these might be to your interest, actually.” He stepped away, gestured to the dossiers. “Here, take a seat.” Age and experience offered to divulge, hoping to feed the aspirational interest of his guest and draw them closer. “Here, have a read.”

He took a seat beside her, studied her quietly, mind busy considering how best to make her useful, as he slid his arm along the back of her chair.

Hester took her seat. Read the pages. Sipped her coffee. Grew comfortable of his arm. A minute of undivided attention. A private audience.
"May I be bold to suggest you let them." Spoke Hester at last. "Let them pick a fight. When they are distracted. We will be safe trading partner. Their neighbors will not want to choose a side." She smirked. "Stoke the fire. Make it interesting."

Edwin smiled like a proud father might. Hester Iravani was a bright student of his politics. They had increasingly similar thoughts on many policies. He was right to keep her close, bring her into his circle.

“You are wasted as Deputy Head,” he assured her, and squeezed her shoulder. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice, “I’ll have to keep you close by in Helsinki.”

On Monday a delegation of Ministry went to Finland to take part in the G8 and 3/4, Hester included, at Edwin’s special request. Most would travel by train, (where the real work got done by his minions), but he might treat her to a portkey and a dram of mesimarja.

But for now… breakfast.