This is ridiculous.

Aberdeen had been standing with her fist raised, poised to knock on the door to Tamis Raynor's office, for a good thirty seconds; if she stood there any longer she'd start to get funny looks. Just knock. She almost did, then promptly strode to the other side of the corridor. Leaning against the wall with her arms folded, she stared at the door as if it had offended her in some way.

On the way to work this morning, she had envisaged rapping on the door, poking her head into the room, and grinning at Raynor with a cheeky, 'Miss me?' It seemed less simple now that she was here. Possibly because she had taken a lot more time off than was generally allowed for maternity leave. Possibly because part of her thought she was going back too soon; the somewhat selfish part that, when her conscience reminded her there were children out there whose parents weren't Aurors who needed protecting, always replied, Yes, but Robin's more important than them, isn't he?

Well, she told her self over and over, the best way to ensure her son's safety was also the best way to ensure everybody else's: to put away as many criminals as she could. Maybe one day she'd even track down Robin's murderous biological father. Aberdeen pushed herself away from the wall, went to the door and knocked. And besides, it would be nice to see Raynor and the others again. She'd missed them.

Though she would never verbalize such a claim, being short in stature had its benefits.

Leaning against a divider between two cubicles, Raynor nursed a cup of tea and watched the scene unfold.  Standing between the last column of desks and the far wall, it was doubtful that anyone other than the bloke in the desk behind her knew that she was there.  On the contrary, her position gave her a clear view of her office door.

She almost had not recognized the lanky blonde with her fist poised inches from the hardwood. After two years, Raynor had not immediately thought to connect that head of short cropped hair with Aberdeen Spencer.  Even though she could not make out facial features from this distance, she could almost feel the woman’s glare on the door – it was half surprising that it did not catch aflame.  That stance. The way she stalked out of sight and then trudged grudgingly back, finally rapping definitively on the wooden surface. No mistake, it was Spencer.

The threshold to the Head Auror’s office was always open if she was in – she was not foolish enough to put such a corporeal barrier between her men and her. Merlin alone knew what mischief they would devise. A closed door usually meant one of two things, she was either out and about making rounds or she was in a mood that did not warrant intrusions. Very few individuals would have risked that knock and Spencer was one of them. After all, the girl was from Gryffindor stock; bravery was in their blood.

Best to get this confrontation over with.

An Auror – Jameson – was peering past his cubicle wall, laughing at Aberdeen with his feet propped up on his desk. Raynor rapped on the sole of his boots with her knuckles as she passed. His feet hit the floor and he immediately bent over the report he had been procrastinating on for the past hour and a half. She had to resist the urge to shake her head.

“You look well,” she greeted indifferently as she approached.

Raynor never had been known for her emotional expression.

Aberdeen was aware of someone approaching out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see Raynor walking up to her. Of course, she hadn't even been in her office. And if she'd been close by enough to hear Aberdeen knocking, chances are she was close enough to see her as well. The newly-returned auror must have invoked Murphy's Law somehow.

The time in which it took Raynor to reach Aberdeen and greet her gave the latter enough time to get over her embarrassment, though she couldn't hide the tinge of pink on her cheeks.

'I do? I mean, uh, thanks. You too.' She glanced at the door as if to acknowledge her mistake. 'Well, it's good to know knocking works even when you're not in your office!' Aberdeen grinned sheepishly. 'So, I guess you saw that, huh? Bet you're already regretting letting me rejoin the department.'

Years of practice kept the light hearted flutter from effecting her expression as Aberdeen flashed her familiar grin. It felt strangely nostalgic after its two year absence. Instead, one corner of the Head Auror’s mouth pulled back as if she were politely humoring the girl. “I do not know what you mean,” she lied. “As for regret, I suppose we shall see.” This time, the smirk she offered Spencer was far more genuine. She even threw in a wink.

The much shorter woman managed her way around the considerably taller Aberdeen and placed her hand on the doorknob. There was a long anticlimactic pause where nothing happened. Then the door seemed to shudder and there were a series of clicks as the protective charms and magical locks sealing it safely disarmed. One could not have worked under and with Jason MacDonell and not picked up a few paranoid habits along the way. There was even a poisoned bottle of firewhiskey tucked in her cabinet – a remnant security measure taken directly from her predecessor. 

Beckoning the younger woman to follow, Raynor entered the office. Inside were strictly the necessities, what was there was all of good quality, but it was far from a lavish space. The area by the door was largely open space, a theme that continued a good feet in, creating almost a mini arena – which, essentially, was exactly what it was. In the handful of years at her post, Raynor had learned to keep valuables away from the door which tended to open viciously at the hands of upset bigwigs and underlings. The former were immediately shoved back out unless it was the Minister himself, the latter were usually allowed to let their problems out in the designated space. There was a bookshelf further down on the wall opposite the door and another behind the desk atop an array of cabinets. Beyond that, the desk itself and two large armchairs in front of it served as the office’s furnishings.

“How fairs maternity leave?” She asked, choosing to lean on the front of her desk and cross her arms rather than sit behind it. As Raynor well knew, the technical conditions for Spencer’s absence were just that, technical. But it had seemed like the most polite way to phrase the question. Raynor could practice etiquette, when she really tried… even if it did come out sounding sarcastic, she at least was making the effort. 

Aberdeen followed the shorter woman into her office, feeling slightly reassured by Raynor's smirk. It felt as though the Head Auror were trying to put her at ease, which was a comfort. Aberdeen still couldn't help wonder, just a little, if she was pushing her luck by coming back to work. She still didn't know what most of the department thought of her for leaving in the first place.

The phrase 'maternity leave' still felt odd to Aberdeen when spoken out loud, and she gave a small, self-conscious chuckle as she leaned against the arm of one of the armchairs. 'Frought with paranoia,' she admitted. 'At least I've finally got the hang of leaving the house without panicking that something will go wrong as soon as I'm out the door.'

Leaving the joking tone of voice aside for a moment, Aberdeen continued more somberly, And... 'I've missed work. It's good to even be in the building again.' Butterflies in the stomach aside, she added silently. 'I, uh... I guess there's been a lot going on here recently.' Her mind went automatically to the events of Remembering Day. 'I'm sorry I wasn't around to help.'

To be perfectly honest, Raynor had not expected Aberdeen Spencer to request a return to active duty. Understandably, there had been scant communication between the two women since Spencer had asked the Head Auror for a leave of absence. It had been better, at the time, to cut all apparent ties with the younger woman and let the skeletons in her closet stop rattling. The conditions of Spencer’s departure had been… controversial at best… around the Office. Raynor had not entirely approved of the situation. But she had always trusted Aberdeen’s character, she had come entirely clean, and, frankly, the woman’s personal life was none of her business as her direct superior. The shorter woman was her immediate supervisor, but that did not make her the other’s mother.

Speaking of which…

“You sound like a mother.” The corners of Raynor’s mouth perked upward again into an almost-smile. It was a decent attempt, anyhow. “I will assume that means that you have not had too many troubling instances.” Or rather, that there had not been any unknown attempts on her, her husband or the boy they … adopted.

“Yes,” if her voice tightened, her face did not show it. “We have had a significant rash of activity.” The memories of Timmins gruff yet soothing demeanor swam to the forefront and she pushed them back into the depth where they belonged. Add it to the fact that Gibson had escaped her through unexpected assistance, the murdered bum, Tawse, the worries Dreogan Eleor had dumped on that already heavy load… it was nothing compared to the War. But it was becoming a bothersome weight.  It carried baggage with it that she was eventually going to have to come to terms with. But not now.

“We could use the extra pair of hands.”

'That's what I'm here for,' Aberdeen told her superior, gesturing her palms upwards as if to demonstrate, some of her old confidence seeping back into her voice. 'To be frank, boss, after all that's happened, I think I'm long overdue to start being useful again. If I'm not an auror, then as much as I want stay near Robin and keep him safe, all I can really do for him is wrap him up in cotton wool and jump everytime I hear a loud noise, and all I can do for anyone else is even less.'

She was clasping her hands together now, displaying some of the tension she was trying to keep out of her facial expression. What Raynor thought of her was important to Aberdeen; the Head Auror deserved to know Aberdeen's exact motivations for rejoining her work force. Honesty was important in the chain of command, she'd learned that much after the truth about Jairus Valdaine had come out.

Relaxing her tense posture a little, Aberdeen went on, with less intensity, 'But anyway. I've been keeping up roughly with recent events-- I know about as much as any Daily Prophet reader, at any rate. Is there anything I particularly need to be filled in on, or--' she allowed herself a crooked grin-- 'should I just jump right back in?'

Listening to the explanation, Raynor inclined her head, signally her respect for the words. “I appreciate the honesty,” she responded. “Every Auror in this Corps has their own reasons for being here, a motivation, if you would. We all have something to protect, no matter how big or small, it does not make it any less important.”

The one thing that Tamis required in her Aurors, as well as herself, above all else was the ability of communication. Not properly communicating could lead to disruptions, unnecessary drama, and even death. She promised to not keep anything from the ranks that was not confidential or absolutely essential and in return she expected them to have a certain degree of candor with their commander. Spencer had that quality. Among other amiable ones. She might not have been the strongest or toughest Auror at Raynor’s disposal, but she was steady, reliable, trustworthy, and knew how to keep from getting herself killed.

The tension seemed to ease in the younger woman and the Head Auror had to resist the urge to smile.

“The Prophet is codswallop,” Tamis stated, sharing her sentiment for just about any form of written media. “But it has as many leads as we have. There are a lot of cases going cold; hopefully you can help fix that with your usefulness.”

Standing upright, Raynor moved to the other side of her desk and opened the top drawer. After a few minutes of searching (it had been in there for a while), she retrieved what she was looking for and closed it. She tossed the woman back her badge.

“It is good to have back, Auror Spencer. That made a horrible paperweight.”

Aberdeen grinned widely despite herself as she caught the badge. 'Ah, I guess I'd better find another use for it then.' She rubbed at the metal with the sleeve of her robes, not because it wasn't clean, but more out of fondness; she hadn't seen it for almost two years, after all. Pinning it onto the front of her slate grey work robes, she stood up, that smile still tugging about her lips. 'Thanks for not tossing it in the rubbish, boss.'

Straightening her robes a little self consciously, Aberdeen continued in a more practical tone, 'So I expect I've a lot of case reports to catch up on then. I've got to say, I prefer them to some of the stuff the Prophet's reporters come up with.' Of course, Aberdeen remembered, Raynor didn't much care for that newspaper (or possibly any, for that matter). 'Anywhere you think I ought to start?'

She wasn't smiling anymore at this point, but nor was she grimacing at the thought of the reports of recent unsolved crimes. When it came to the facts of any given case, Aberdeen knew not to take anything lightly, but she also appreciated being able to learn the finer details of any given crime. At a glance it could be mistaken for morbid curiosity, but it was more to do with a compulsive need to solve problems. The more information, the more clues, the more to work with toward the goal of arriving at a solution. And then justice could be properly pursued.