Friday, September 5
9pm
a quiet London neighborhood

Niobe Thursby strode down the dark street, her keys to her flat already out in her hand.  She was moving quickly, eager to be back in her apartment.  The Daily Prophet had this hectic energy that drove her through the hours of the day, keeping her mind and body busy.  And that's what she'd been surviving on all summer.  The lights of the bullpen, the noise, the ink and paper.  The shouts and deadlines and cold sandwiches.

And lately she had been loathe to leave it, leave that safety and predictability where she was queen of herself.   Every night, she'd stay as long as possible, then Apparate to the mugglefree area a few blocks from her apartment building, and walk the rest of way home as fast as she could.

Then she'd hole up in her flat, and sleep with one eye open.

As she neared her steps, she started fumbling with her keys, to ready the correct one so it could go from hand to lock as quickly as possible.  But she fumbled and dropped them - she still wasn't used to being a nine-fingered witch and the gap of her missing ring finger seemed a mile wide.

"Shite!" she swore and stooped down quickly to get it.  Just at that moment, footsteps behind her gave her a start and she shot back up.

"Maggie!" she breathed, adrenaline already racing through her body.  "Maggie, blimey, you scared me."  She put her hand on her chest and grinned, trying to manually slow her breathing back to normal.  It wasn't a dark wizard or murderous ex-boyfriend - it was just her neighbor and friend from work, Maggie Groust.

Maggie stood in her bedroom window, still and scowling, like some grim sentry looking out into the night. That was exactly what she was doing, of course. Something was going on with Niobe and she was determined to find out what it was. Her friend couldn’t hide from her forever. Maggie’s offers to head out for coffee, lunch, and other outings had fallen on deaf ears these past few weeks. When Niobe wasn’t working long hours, she was… well, where was she?

Maggie’s frown deepened. At first she had assumed she’d said something brash and driven Niobe away. It had hurt her a little, to think that she was avoiding her. However, when she’d asked around the office, she’d discovered that it wasn’t just her. Niobe could be aloof but she wasn’t a complete recluse. Something was wrong.

Aha! There she was! Niobe walked down their block as if she were being dragged by an invisible leash. Shaking her head, Maggie moved away from the window, stomped down the stairs, and booked it out of her apartment. She could move fast, too, and she was going to catch Niobe before the woman vanished into her flat.

Okay, so Maggie knew it was a bit creepy, and she knew there was probably a better way of cornering her, but she was not the most subtle person.

Her sneakers slapping on the asphalt, she made it to Niobe’s door just as her friend dropped her keys.
“I’ve heard it works better if you put the key in the hole, and turn,” she said in greeting, crossing her arms.

Her friend’s startled reaction made Maggie’s eyebrows raise. Niobe was excitable, but she’d never known her to be jumpy.

“All right, look,” Maggie dived right in with her usual grace. “I’m worried about you. Either you’ve been brushing me off because of my charming personality, or you’ve got bigger things to worry about.  Anyway, the polite thing to do is invite me in,” she grinned, fully aware that showing up on Niobe’s doorstep was intrusive and not at all polite.

Niobe put on the same brave smile she wore every day at work, and didn't let Maggie Groust's forward demeanor bother her at all.  But truth be told, she wasn't very excited to be lingering in the doorway.  She quickly picked up the keys and followed Maggie's directions.

"Well, in you get," she said, with that grin that didn't reach her eyes.  They trooped up the stairs and soon they were inside Niobe's apartment.  Niobe dropped her bags and keys and immediately put a kettle on.

"Maggie, it's been ages! Aren't you going out tonight? Who's it you're seeing - that copy boy from the Quidditch section? Bit your junior but tall enough," Niobe chattered.  If Maggie thought Niobe was mad at her, this might show her differently.

"Can you believe Barnabas this week? Slowest news week all summer and he's got us chasing our tails about international trade policy and cauldron standards."  Maggie didn't have to endure Barnabas Cuffe like the rest of the Prophet reporters did, being a freelancer.  But if she was in at all this week she'd have got an earful.

With the kettle on, Niobe flicked off her shoes.  Whatever Maggie's plans were this weekend night, it was clear Niobe was settling in for some hard up hermitage.  She settled in a chair and sighed.  "How long have you been after me?"

Maggie snorted and shook her head when Niobe asked her if she had plans. Colette hadn’t coerced her into going out and Kia was as much a homebody as she was, so no, the only thing Maggie had planned was her questioning of Niobe. Her friend chattered away as she poured water into the kettle, but Maggie kept her responses very short and noncomittal, not about to be waylaid by Niobe’s expertise in changing the subject.

Niobe settled in a chair across from her and finally, seemed to admit defeat. Maggie leaned forward and put her chin in her hands.

“Not long. Just a week or so. I tried to catch you at work, but that’s near impossible,” Maggie said in a teasing, chiding tone. “So, I did what any reasonable friend would do. I waited by my window until you got home. Creeptastic, right? But it worked!”

Maggie smirked a bit and went on. “But seriously. Is it the job? Barnabus being an arse? My bad jokes about your missing finger?” She was only half-kidding. A part of her still worried that it was personal.

Niobe just stared at her friend a moment.  But she didn't really know if she should call her friend, the way Niobe had been treating everyone this summer.  Dodging social engagements, taking assignments about trade regulations instead of her normal fare like the criminal courts, human interest and location pieces.  And sleeping with the lights on and her wand in her hand.  (She'd woken up one night from a nightmare with on of her dreadlocks still singed and smoldering.  It took a week to get the smell out of the apartment.)

One thing she'd liked about Maggie since they met was how frank she was - almost everyone else had too much healthy shame to mention her missing finger.  But not Maggie.  Niobe couldn't help but smile.

"It's none of that," she admitted easily.  "Work's been fine - I'd rather be at the Prophet than anywhere frankly.  Something about all the light and information flying around.  Seems ... safe. Everything's clear - no secrets, know what I mean?  Feel like I've just been taking too many risks. " 

She shrugged wryly and held up her left hand as evidence.  "Things I'd do for a story. Shite."  She shook her head and her smile faded. 

“I’ve noticed,” she butt in when Niobe said she’d rather be at the Prophet than anywhere else. Yet when she mentioned lights and safety, Maggie straightened and peered at her. Like Colette, Niobe had been a Gryffindor. She normally wasn’t too concerned about her own safety, gleefully diving into assignments that would scare away the more practical. This summer, though, Niobe had laid low, working hard, but taking on less exciting projects. That wasn’t like her.

Niobe put her left hand up and waved her four fingers, making her point. Maggie remained quiet for a moment and then stood, pouring both of them a cup of tea. She had no real problem barging in or making herself at home. Not when she was worried.

Before sitting down again she put her hand on Niobe’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “It was a great story, though. Definitely proved your dedication. And it’s not like you lost your hand,” she teased, trying to make her feel better.

Maggie took a sip of the hot drink and watched her carefully, a concerned and puzzled crease forming between her brows. “This can’t just be about the Runespoor, can it?” She frowned. “You’ve been acting strangely much longer than that. Should I be worried about an Imperius Curse?” She tilted her head, smiling slightly at her.

Niobe couldn't help but smile again.  Maggie's coarse and aggressive sense of humor was perfectly inappropriate.  At face value it sounded insensitive, but Niobe could tell that a woman who tailed her home and had sat her down and made tea was someone who cared. 

"Do you remember," she started slowly, "the article I wrote back in May? It was the one about Ex-Azzie rights? It was shite, right? Even Cuffe told me the research was shoddy and that he was conflicted about printing it.  Well, I fixed it up enough to go to press, but we all knew it was shite, right? That article, yeah?"

As Niobe began to recreate events that would eventually reach back to what had happened at the Black Chimera Tavern months ago she started to feel the emotions in her again.  Physically.  Her palms were beginning to get wet and her breath was just a bit tighter.  Her heart was beating just a little faster.

"Cinaed Tawse made me write that," she said.  And in surprising way, Niobe was relieved she'd said something.  It had really compromised her journalistic morals to publish what she had.  It wasn't all untrue, but her motivations were impure.  Her integrity was compromised and she had deliberately spun it to achieve the effect Cinaed had demanded.  The article had even prompted an inquery and since then Niobe had a very cold relationship with the Aurors that was only just now beginning to warm up.  She'd been carrying all that, wondering if her coworkers and faithful readers had been disappointed in that lapse.  But now at least her friend Maggie could know that it wasn't an honest piece.

Maggie shrugged, slightly uncomfortable. Yeah, she remembered the article Niobe had written in May. She’d shown a unique perspective, that was for sure, but the article hadn’t much sounded like Niobe. All the facts were there and all the ideas, but her usual passion and conviction had been somewhat lacking. Maggie had just assumed she’d had an off article, which happened to the best of reporters. Not everything could turn out like a gem.

“It was well-written shite,” she offered lamely, wondering what this had to do with her switch in personality.

Maggie wasn’t observant enough to see how nervous Niobe was. She did notice that the woman hadn’t touched her tea, however, so she rolled her eyes and nudged it closer to her on the table, waiting for her to tell her more. A heavy tension hung in the air, making Maggie feel moody and restless. If Niobe didn’t spill soon, she was going to say something rude, she just knew it. She didn’t want that. Letting out a sigh, Maggie fixed her eyes on her and clenched her teeth, giving her another moment.

Finally, Niobe opened her mouth. Yet what she said wasn’t very enlightening.

“What?” Maggie questioned, a bit frustrated. “How could he… make you write anything? When did you even see him? Doesn’t he work at that Black Cat what’s it place in Knockturn?”

Maggie paused, searching her memory. Then she slapped her hand on the table. “Oh,” she let out a chuckle. “You used to date him, didn’t you? Is that what this is about?” She tried her best not to judge, but failed. She just couldn’t see how a smart, professional woman like Niobe could have been attracted to an ex-Azzie. Maggie preferred nice, sweet guys, who expressed themselves without an excessive amount of posturing and macho behavior. Hence, one of the reasons she liked Frank so much.

“I don’t understand,” Maggie admitted with a sigh. “You’ll have to spell it out for me. Unless you want me to go into obnoxious interrogation mode,” She gave her a look. Maggie was willing to listen, if Niobe was willing to talk. She didn’t want to question her- she did that enough on the job!

Niobe sighed and closed her eyes.  The worst thing about that day wasn't that she was nearly killed, that she'd written that rubbish article - it was how ashamed she felt to have let Cinaed have so much power over her.  How she had to let him have her purse, deal with him for her wand back.  And that now, threats were still standing if she told anyone what happened.

"If he finds out I'm telling you this," she said, only now taking up the hot tea, "he'll do me in for sure.  That man is psychotic."

She laughed a little: this fact had been obvious to nearly everyone else - Niobe had been the one who didn't get the picture and keep away.

"I went to his tavern.  He was with an Auror and was being questioned that morning.  I listened in.  I had this hunch he was involved with the murders at Remembering Day, or maybe just at this incident at King's Cross I reported on."  She shook her head; the reasons didn't matter.

"Anyway, he caught me spying on him.  The Auror had gone, and we were alone.  He ... He attacked me, threatened to kill me.  He had me by the neck and he took my bag.  Had my Extend-" she cut herself off. The Ears were grossly unbecoming a reputable journalist.

"Had my wand, my notes, my quill.  Everything.  He read my notes.  Thought he was going to snap my quill.  And you know he was in Azkaban  - he's not allowed a wand.  Could have killed me on the spot."

Her face took a pallor of disgust.  "But instead he blackmailed me. Told me to write that effing bit.  Been too ashamed about the whole banjaxed mess to step out my door."

She drank the rest of her tea quickly and put her cup down, like the period on a sentence.

When Niobe had explained everything and downed her tea, Maggie opened her mouth a few times and kept shaking her head. She got up suddenly, pacing the room, mind racing along with her agitated steps.

“Bloody fecking piece of…” she muttered under her breath, too angry to finish the slew of curses building in her head.

“Asshole!” she finally burst out, putting her hands on her hips and glaring out the kitchen window as if she expected to see Cináed on the street below. Maggie tried to get her breathing under control and to nudge her thoughts in a direction that didn’t involve maiming and murdering a certain pub owner. After a few moments, Maggie went back to the table and sat, tense and antsy, but less prone to violence. She hoped.

“Niobe,” she began, putting her head in her hands and shaking her head. “Why didn’t you tell someone right away, like the Auror he was talking to? They have protection programs. And I’m sure they would love nothing more than to lock Cin up again.”

Maggie lifted her head and looked at her directly. No matter what Niobe had heard, Cin had no right to threaten her like that. It was hard to remember, right then, that Maggie was younger than her and they were friends- she wasn’t Niobe’s mother.

“What were you thinking, checking up on him alone, when you’d already suspected he may have had something to do with Remembering Day?” Maggie rubbed at her forehead and sighed. “I understand- you can’t pass up a hunch like that- but, Merlin, ask someone to go with you! Or at least tell someone your plans.”

That someone, of course, being Maggie. “It’s just plain dangerous and stupid to do otherwise,” she said baldly, emphasizing her point.

Niobe probably knew all of this already and didn’t need to hear it from her. If Maggie had been less upset and angry, she might have tried to say something comforting, to tell her that everything was going to be alright, and that she appreciated knowing what was going on. But she was shocked and frightened that Cin had actually threatened her friend’s life. It was easier to focus on her anger than to admit she was horrified.

Niobe had had all summer to go through the gamut of emotions Maggie was now going through.  Maggie was shocked, angry - and now questioning Niobe's judgement.  And as sympathetic as Niobe could be to what Maggie might be going through, hearing about a friend's assault, blaming the victim was a classic no-no.

"I don't think so, Maggie! Take a step back and think about what you're saying," she said rising from her chair, a bandaged hand waggling a warning finger at the younger witch.

"I didn't grab my own throat and shove me against a wall.  I did not steal another witch's wand.  I did not commit any crime so I'm not the one who should be getting interrogated here!  Yes. I took risks.  I was impulsive and nosy and unethical - but I am not the one who should be getting lectured here.  I've been over all of this in my head a thousand and one times, Maggie:  It is not my fault."

It felt good to say that.  It was the first time she'd even thought that sentence at all.  It was in her head or her heart this whole time somewhere.  It didn't matter what she did to provoke Cinaed; he crossed the line and it wasn't her fault.

She glared at Maggie, her strong brows heavily furrowed.  Her posture strong.  And then suddenly, her throat clogged and her face screwed up. And then she draped her arms around Margaret and sobbed.  She was so angry, not at Maggie anymore, but at Cinaed and herself.  All the emotions she'd repressed, all the exertion of her ever-brave face, all the horror of being assaulted by Cinaed - they call came pouring out in ugly, breathy cries.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry!"

Maggie leaned back in the chair, immediately defensive. She kept opening her mouth when Niobe got angry at her, wanting to explain and tell her not to get so upset.

“It is not my fault.”

She stared her in the eye, face flushed. Now, embarrassment mixed in with the anger and the cool knowledge that she was right. Someone had to tell her! Niobe had been foolish. Her friend needed to think before doing these things. It was reckless and dangerous, and Maggie couldn’t stand to think what would have happened if she’d been… killed.

Maggie’s face became stony and she opened her mouth, about to protest, but then, something completely unexpected and horrible happened. Niobe, the woman she always looked up to (sometimes because of the risks she took), the friend she could always count on to be cheerful, strong, and determined- she started to cry. The minute her face scrunched up, Maggie looked away, ashamed of herself. How could she have said those harsh things to her?

She stood up and wrapped her arms around her in a hug, swaying with her and patting her back comfortingly. Maggie made some shushing noises and murmured reassurances- everything she should have done from the beginning. Niobe’s raw sobs and shaking shoulders tugged at Maggie’s heart, but she bit her lip, pushing away her sadness and anger so she could focus on her friend.

Pulling back for a moment, Maggie shook her head and stared into her eyes. “Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry. I was a jerk.”

She ran her hand through her hair and shaking her head again. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. He’s the one at fault.” Her jaw started to ache from gritting her teeth. Maggie hugged her for a second time, and then reached across the table for a dishtowel. She handed it to Niobe with an apologetic look on her face.

“I don’t know where your tissues are,” she said. Another few moments passed as she thought things through. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine, I’ll make sure of it.” The bastard was going to pay. “What… what can I do?” Maggie felt a little useless, trying to comfort her. She wasn’t good with tears and she never seemed to know what to say.

Niobe was a little embarrassed, to be sobbing like a teenager on Maggie's shoulder.  She felt the tension in her shoulders, this comforting thing being alien to her.  But soon Maggie relaxed and Niobe felt somehow safer.  And missed her mother.  Missed what life was like before she'd let Cinaed tromp all over her. 

She stood away from Maggie and took up the dish towel.  She rubbed at her face, now all read and streaked with black eye makeup.

She smiled wryly, still a little embarrassed, but feeling much better after a good cry.  After all the pressure had been released.  Cinaed Tawse had made a big mistake.

"We're going to make things worse for him," she said, her voice becoming steady again.

"But first.  I need some wine.  In a club as far from London as possible.  Let's go to Signature.  Screw it - I've not been out in months.  I've got the cash.  Drinks at Signature on me."

She stood up and went to a mirror hanging on the wall and started to straighten up.  Cleaning her face, and twisting her hair up into two french twists ending in sprays of locks.

"New day, Maggie.  Owl the witches."