Desk work was growing on Margo.  As much as she didn’t love it, she didn’t hate it anymore, which was a decided step in the right direction.  There had been blips along the way, of course, and several mistakes that she tried to cover up… but ultimately needed help in trying to reason with the Peruvian Consulate that their British researcher was not, in fact, trying to steal state secrets.  Apparently that got lost in translation somewhere (Margo really had to work on her Spanish… a total embarrassment to the maternal side of her family).   

But, it had been fixed, thankfully, after getting a better dictionary and reacquainting herself with the Romance language of her youth, the miscommunication that could have ended up in Miss Kale’s ejection from the Peruvian reserve had her job secured and another space was actually opening up as one of the native researchers was taking time to travel to Chile.  It was a definite win, after an almost epic loss, so Margo was proud of that. 

Closing up the file, she would have to get in touch with a few people to see if they were interested in the position, getting a chance to travel to South America wasn’t always a British privilege, so she’d have to get to them before the Spanish ministry got to their contacts.  She had sticky tags on the file with the names and addresses of those that she wanted to talk to and stuck another tag on her wall to remind her to actually write the owls.  Sometimes the follow-through was the hard part, and reminding herself was the first step to actually getting it done. 

But, she had something to do and needed to put it down.  So, pushing herself up from her desk and rolling out of her seat, Margo stretched comfortably and rolled her shoulders, stretched her left foot and then rolled her right leg just a tad.  She hated sitting for long periods of time, perhaps her biggest complaint about the job at this point, and grabbed her bright red bag from under the desk, which contained her lunch. 

She vacated the little cubicle, glancing one last time at the note on the wall before jaunting to the communal area, plopping down in a seat and putting her long legs out, stretching them once again, and her back before peeling open her bag and pulling out the containers with a sandwich, some grapes, and yogurt with granola in it.  It was absolutely wonderful, picking up a sandwich and getting ready to eat – if she could just get to that point where she could sink her teeth in.

For the office these days Covadonga was dressed rather oddly, looking more like a field-worker than an administrator in her jeans and dragon-hide boots and jacket.  It was finally getting chilly and windy enough to wear the latter as regular gear.

She could have sent the mountain of paperwork to Mrs. Vagabond by magic, but she (along with all the other people she had working on the runespoor cases) had been stationed on the other side of the Werewolf Wing by the conference rooms.  Sending all that parchment through the air at that great a distance seemed hazardous at best, so the witch decided to hoof it, levitating the tomes and rolls behind her, ensuring no one would collide with it in front of her.

On her way back after dropping off the work in Lenore’s cubicle, Covi spotted someone with very Gertrudis wavy dark hair and dark eyes: her cousin Marguerite eating in the break room.  She had been working for the department for some time now, but because of all the craziness going on the Department Head never got the chance to welcome her properly.

OK, so maybe Covadonga might have been holding it off subconsciously.  While they were cousins Margo’s family more or less cut ties with Covi’s immediate family during the Second War.  They did not approve of the Ashwin side of her family gallivanting about with the Dark Lord… or their attempts to recruit children from the Gertrudis side of the family who were mostly neutral or wholly opposed to Voldemort.  Covi didn’t bear any ill-will toward them for that, but even after all the Gertrudis/Ashwin sons and daughter ended up fighting against the bad guys Covadonga saw it almost improper how the Amherst/Gertrudis clan didn’t try and repair the bonds that had been broken over a decade after the fact.

Might as well get on with it.

“Hello, Miss Amherst!” Covadonga greeted the woman cheerily, making a bee-line for the teapot in the back of the room, her thick soled boots stomping merrily across the floor.  Starting off with a bit of small talk Covi asked, “¿Com estàs, la meva estimada cosina?” [How are you, my dear cousin?] quite fluidly and with her good ole' Valencian accent and in Catalan rather than straight Spanish, the language of their childhood, albeit quite informally considering their acquaintance.

Oh, sandwich, Margo thought with a sort of loving gaze as she chewed the delicious bite of sourdough bread, mingled with mustard, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and ham.  This was her favorite lunch, a homemade gift she gave to herself that was easy to make and almost impossible to mess up.  Then there was a bag of crisps that went along with the lovely concoction.  Lunch was such a blessing in the way of breaking up the day and reminding one that there was something out there other than paperwork and owls to write. 

Looking up from the sandwich she felt like might have been worth serenading, Margo saw a familiar person strolling into the break room.  Covadonga Gertrudis, her first cousin on her mother’s side, was someone Margo had liked when they were younger, but had lost contact with over the years.  It was unexpected that she would lose contact with that part of her family, but during the second war, Margo’s more liberal side of the family did not appreciate what was happening with the Gertrudis-Ashwin clan, particularly the attempts to round some of the younger generations into the Death Eater group – at least that’s what Margo had gathered at thirteen, and that was that.

She had been too young to know the extent of what was going on, all she knew was that she wasn’t allowed to see her cousin with the cool pets anymore.  Now, the cousin with the cool pets was in charge of the department of cool pets, basically, and Margo was working for her, but they had still not really talked to one another on anything but a professional basis.  It had been an awkward and strange family situation, but she supposed it was like that with a lot of families during the time, torn a bit because of the circumstances. 

It was such a pity they had never really gone back to forming those relationships, at least on full family levels.  Margo would have absolutely no problem repairing what she lost and smiled easily as the lilt of her cousin’s accent caused a sea of memories to rush back.  Oh, Valencia.  It was almost as beautiful a thought as the sandwich she had put back down on her plate.  Unfortunately, Margo was not quite as fluent in her spoken Spanish anymore, having spent so much time messing with Swedish and Romanian, but she still understood the language and smiled easily, turning in her chair to face her cousin with the kettle. 

She was glad to see her cousin shared her sense of fashion.  She’d have to give this as an example to Ferguson how a woman could pull off looking like a field worker in the RCMC better than anywhere else.  “Better than I was three hours ago,” she laughed, totally honest.  There was no reason to lie to her, after all, she’d probably find out sooner or later anyway.  Peruvians.  She shook her head and smiled, lifting her glass of orange juice (a favorite drink) to her lips before lowering it with a happy sigh.  “What about you?  Needing to dip into the caffeine already?”

Three hours ago?

“Oh really?” Covi replied in a “do tell” tone, turning back from the coffee and tea station to face the younger (though much taller when standing) lady, tilting her head to the side in one of her young nephew’s imitation of an inquisitive owl.  He was much better at making the wide eyes, Covadonga was sure.

Finishing up at pouring her cup, the witch took a seat across her cousin, sat up tall and crossed her ankles.  Sitting so properly must have looked odd in an outfit which promoted slouching into the back of the chair and legs flung wide.  All she was missing, really, was a 10-gallon hat and some spurs.

And dipping?  “More like swimming,” Covi answered with a wry grin.  “I can hardly go a couple hours without a cupful.”  A sad truth.  For a while she had been able to go caffeine free, but after all the shenanigans happening since her promotion it was high time she got reacquainted with her old friend.a

Yup. She was right.  Covi was going to find out sooner or later, and Margo was actually going to be the one to tell her.  She supposed this was the best option, since she was going to be the one telling her, she could very well spin it in the way she wished it to be spun and took another bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing before restoring a half-grin at her cousin and boss.  “Oh, just a little miscommunication with the Peruvians.  Something about stolen state secrets, but… I cleared it up!” 

That was a gloss of facts if she had ever heard one, but she couldn’t help but give that cheeky grin that would alert anyone of her supposed innocent and grabbed a chip to put in her mouth.  Holding the bag up to the woman who took a seat across from her, it was funny how similarly they approached clothing, but how different their posture was.  Margo was slouched, comfortable, and completely relaxed – it looked like something had at least gotten through to Covi who sat up like she was supposed to.  Margo could almost HEAR the chastising for being an unladylike slouch. 

“That’s what happens when you’re the boss,” Margo teased, motioning to the now full cup of tea.  “We used to go through I don’t even know how many pots of coffee every day in Sweden and Romania.  I don’t think I ever put a cup down if I wasn’t in the field.”  Fond memories, to be sure, but for now, she was just nursing some orange juice.  Far more health conscious and, to be honest, after a weekend of drinking… probably the best choice.  “Must say I’ve found less and less of a need since I got here.” 

She laughed a bit and ate another few crisps.  "You seem to have the opposite effect.  Busy in the big office?"

The teacup paused at her thick bottom lip and the corner of her left eye twitched.  “State… secrets?” the Department Head managed to utter with as much control as she could muster before taking a rather unladylike (at least for her) gulp of the steaming brew.

Clearing her throat once she was finished she grinned and moved on, sure that her cousin would tell her the details.  If things truly had been cleared up as she said hopefully no real damage control would need to be done.  Nevertheless, she would shoot Peru an owl when she got the next clear chance just to check the temperature of things.  Despite her rather plain and simple outlook on things, Covi could be quite the diplomat.

“Indeed… it was no different back in Africa,” and in this instance she meant WAY back in Africa, when she first started out in the Wrangling business.  Rolf had actually given her a magical thermos when she graduated from Heitsi-Eibib’s.  It was currently collecting dust in her pantry.  Perhaps it was time to resurrect her old friend.  She made a mental note to tell Morgy to put it to soak for her and prep it as necessary with the appropriate spells if needed.

“And yes, it has been quite busy.  The whole runespoor fiasco has just gotten even more complicated…”

“Apparently,” Margo started, knowing that it was not going to get brushed under the rug as easily as she would have liked it to, “Horatia Kale, our researcher down there - she sent a letter here, for transfer purposes, and it was, of course, in English, and when I responded back it went to the head of the reserve first.  He misread and sent a very angry – very fast – howler in return about the message – and just had to reacquaint myself a bit with formalized Spanish.  It’s all set now, but for a minute…” 

The awkward laugh could convey more of the incredibly awkward than she had even anticipated from sending the letter.  Thankfully, Margo worked fairly well under pressure and the decision she made to calmly and carefully write back with a formal letter, well, that had worked – surprisingly enough.  She smiled though, an attempt to cover over the mistake and problem, turning back to her sandwich.  It was so necessary. 

Grabbing her juice, she drank a larger gulp – unlike most of her cousins, Margo had no predilection toward acting like the way they were forced to growing up.  Her mother had always said she had a rebel’s spirit, though very few people in their lives at that point could actually tolerate that deep-set sense of self that she had at that young age.  It certainly hadn’t been the way THEY wanted her to be, and Margo grinned when she mentioned Africa.

“That’s one place I still haven’t been.  Not many dragons, I’m afraid,” she said with a bit of a laugh.  As far as anyone was aware, there were no dragons native to Africa – probably the lack of mountain ranges, but if anyone discovered any, Margo would have been, in the past, the first to sign up to study them.  It would have been a fascinating study in hunting patterns.  That reminded her of the pages of her notes she still needed to find… she’d get to that. 

She did not know much about the runespoor thing, it wasn’t her area of expertise, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t be a bouncing board for ideas – unless it was confidential.  Couldn’t hurt to ask though.  Leaning back in her chair, she raised her dark eyebrows at her cousin, “How so?”

Immediately after her cousin’s explanation the witch asked, “How was the owl addressed?”  Depending on how the address was written to the Peruvian Ministry the letter may not necessarily have to go through the Head of the Reserve.  That could be a HUGE breach in security, especially since it was an international affair.

Moving on once again to one of her favorite places on the planet, she made an addendum to Margo’s comment about Africa’s lack of dragons, “Ah, but several other dangerous animals remain,” one of the most dangerous according to Scamander resided there, actually.  Plus, there were a number of reptilian creatures that may peak Miss Amherst’s interest.

Like the runespoor.

After narrowing her eyes most peculiarly at the witch sitting opposite her, as if assessing Margo’s character, and taking a sip of her tea she answered, “It seems that there are more nationalities involved besides Africa and the UK.

 “It was a C/O delivery,” Margo answered easily, “Kale’s been in the field, so I didn’t want it to get lost or destroyed.”  She didn’t think much of the whole thing, either the address or her cousin and boss asking about it; it seemed like a uselessly small point.  But, she never pretended to understand administrators.  She wasn’t that type of person, to be able to micromanage or anything, she dealt with herself and that was crazy and hectic enough, he didn’t need a team of people underneath her to keep track of.  That wouldn’t happen. 

Shrugging, she took her orange juice from the table and grinned as she pointed out there were dangerous creatures in Africa, which Margo had no doubts about, but they wouldn’t exactly fit into the contents of her book.  “Maybe if there’s a dragon relative or two, I can make my way down,” she laughed, “Add an extra chapter at the end, just exploring the possibilities?”  She could not help but be intrigued by the idea, but she remembered how… impractical it was for her to actually imagine going back into the field, especially now, and she shrugged again, “Maybe in the next few years.” 

She needed to get a better hold on walking and moving – running, whatever.  All of it, pretty much.  It was off, and Margo knew enough on that one to avoid putting herself in exceptionally dangerous situations.  If only she remembered that in the thick of a far more high stakes arena – human interaction.  Could have saved a bundle in embarrassing and horrible situations if she remembered the necessary: get a hold of everything before you enter the fray, rule. 

Appeared it didn’t make a spot of difference though, as Margo was not the type of person to really plan anything before she did it – and there were more important details to attend to.  Covi seemed tight-lipped about the whole business, though from what Margo did know of it, it didn’t seem like such a far reach that there were more than two places involved.  “I can imagine,” she nodded in agreement, “The eggs are in high demand, aren’t they?” 

The woman very nearly cursed.  She couldn’t do anything about a Care Of letter.  Oh well… Margo was right; nothing truly detrimentally seemed to have come of it.  And a book?  Wow… that reminded Covi she needed to get on her own lest Rolf’s second owl died from all the traveling it did.  It seemed like every month when she got her updates from SAMMs there was always a post script asking her how her transcript was coming along.

“Indeed… if you ever find yourself in need of a guide, feel free to ask,” Covi offered.

As for the eggs, “Actually… it seems that we have more than the eggs on our hands now.”  Some bright spark had figured out some new uses for the runespoor venom of the Critic’s head, or at least unearthed some rather old concoctions.  Highly dangerous stuff.  Blew a good chunk of Knockturn to the heavens, or so Tamis told her.  It must have been quite the trial to find out how to do it.  Covadonga already knew the easiest way was to harvest the venom when the creature was young.  Easier to handle and the venom was more concentrated than the older ones who had more control over how much venom to express during an attack.

Draining her cup, Covi stood up and walked back to the pot and poured herself another, this time a little more full than the last.  “How else has office life been treating you?” she inquired off-offhandedly.

“Will do,” Margo said in a characteristically chipper fashion.  She was a good natured person and took the offer seriously if she decided to go down there.  She really had to get going on something like that, a new adventure just to stir up the dust in her head and unearth some sort of creative flow for her to get back on the project.  It wasn’t pressing though.  She hadn’t submitted much except a proposal to the publisher and they were interested, but not on a time schedule.  That sort of thing really did get pushed back after a huge, life changing accident.

She was glad for it though, adjusting to a different lifestyle put a strain on the creative process.  At least field notes wouldn’t go away.  And she had plenty of pictures and things, all of which recorded the moments in time she needed.  Maybe when she got home she would start working on it again – or at least gathering the boxes from the closet that had her things in them.  That would be a plus, and definitely better than just sitting around doing nothing or giving to the Leaky Cauldron. 

Whatever the case, she would get to it, and she sighed.  This runespoor business sounded complicated.  Far more dangerous than the dragon trade, which was heavily based on eggs, horns, and other parts of the dragon body, really.  It was somewhat easier to monitor though, since most dragons were kept in reserves and monitored, but things like Runespoors weren’t quite that way.  “If you need anything I can help with, just let me know,” Margo smiled, knowing very well it was not her expertise, but she meant well. 

She wanted to give back something, since Covi didn’t technically have to hire her, especially with absolutely no experience in a bureaucratic world, but she had been able to look past that and give her a job, so when she asked how office life was treating her, Margo could not help but smile with a bit of crooked amusement.  “Well, it’s an adjustment,” she admitted freely, “but not badly.  Today has been the biggest slip-up, I think.” 

There had been one thing with the Chinese, but it was more of a clarification rather than a problem.  “All and all, good though.  Better than what I expected, that’s for sure,” she laughed.  “I thought I would be miserable.  But it isn’t too bad.” 

At Margo’s offer of assistance the Department Head nodded and returned to her seat, crossing her ankles and sitting prim and proper as before.

As for misery in the office, “I can sympathize.  I had not really much experience in an administrative position all that long.  Went right from the field in the Beast Division to here after the previous DH went mad,” an oddly sad truth.  Shaking her head she elaborated, “Eventually he locked himself up in his office and installed a slot in his door where he could be delivered food and paperwork.  Once it was recognized by the uppers that his mental stability was questionable all hell broke loose,” an oddle colloquial term for Covadonga, but it seemed appropriate, "when he 'resigned'," the emphasis on the last word implied that he was told to quit or be dismissed.

“I was rather taken aback by all the support I received when I finally decided to run for the position,” especially since she hated politics, and heavens… the fight for the DH’s office was political to the max.

Oh, Margo had not heard all of this. Leaning forward with curiously raised eyebrows, she could not help but smile at the implication that someone had actually gone crazy.  Now, she was not a model for perfect mental health, and had experienced a gambit of emotional outbursts and things, particularly when she was hospitalized, but to actually go crazy – and WANT to stay in one’s office.  Margo shook her head.  She couldn’t imagine that life.  She’d have to be catatonic before that would happen. 

Taking her orange juice, she lifted it to her lips and grinned, now that her sandwich was gone, she was just hanging out in the break room, clearly shooting the breeze with a colleague and relative, getting a feel for how things worked in this department that seemed a lot less… stiff and regimented than some of the others.  Perhaps it was because many of the people who worked here had been in the field before, had the experience of adventure and couldn’t let that part of them die.  It was nice working in a place where everyone had a similar experience and understood wanderlust and the field. 

“Why?” she asked curiously, obviously not understanding the implications of political alliances and things – that had never really entered her life.  “I mean, when a person is qualified and they can a do a good job, people tend to support them, I’d think.”  It was naïve, which was probably amusing to anyone else, but Margo shrugged, finding it to be simple logic, and it appeared Covi was doing a good job – nothing was falling apart as far as Margo could see and that seemed like enough to instill confidence in Covi. 

“Besides,” she grinned, “as my relative, it clearly got out that we’re probably the best people for any job,” she laughed and nudged her cousin in the side, grinning all the while in that none too surprisingly cocky way.

Covi sighed, finally slumping into the back of the chair, her eyes downcast as she took a sip.  Carefully choosing her words she admitted, “I honestly did not think I was qualified.  I supported those whose ideal’s I sympathized with after staying away from the fight for a good long while.  It completely took me by surprise when it was suggested that I go for the position very late in the game.”  Rolf had been the first when the news broke, but she laughed it off, not really taking it into consideration until her colleagues started nudging her about it and their jesting laughter turned into serious comments with no mirth behind their voices at all.

“Completely surprised…” she repeated, taking another sip.

“Besides, as my relative, it clearly got out that we’re probably the best people for any job.”

At this the shorter witch snorted and nearly aspirated her tea, which was immediately followed by a coughing/laughing fit, following that with a good poke back at her cousin with her elbow.  She felt like a kid again.  Covi loved her father’s side of the family.