5.23am; Ambridge & Lloyd Ltd., London office

It was cold and windy, but the promised rain was still nowhere to be seen. Christchurch Road was still drowned in the clear darkness of a November morning, the silence  did a last stroll past the houses in which the inhabitants were on the brink of waking. Fiona silently cursed herself for wearing nothing but Ballerinas and quickly pushed the key into the lock of No. 46.
As she stepped in, she once again felt the emptiness nagging on her toes. When she was pregnant with Aiden, Fiona and Jason had moved out of this place into a larger house to separate work and home (something she had never liked much, for she was her work) and create safer surroundings for their child than piles over piles of books. Later Frank had lived here for a while and even if no one was here waiting for her in the morning she had brought Aiden who now spent the week at Jason's place.

Shutting the door behind her, she tossed the handbag on the floor. It was pale pink and matched her shoes, blouse and jewelry, something that was almost too much for its owner. Fiona made her way down the hallway to the kitchen, passing only some of the new shelves Sophia and herself had bought last week to finally create space for all those books and papers that had been scattered on the floor everywhere in the house. It was the first time one could actually appreciate the beautiful old tiles and the wooden floor that had been in the house since it had been built a good hundred years earlier.
With a flick of the wand the coffee machine turned on and a large mug hoovered from the shelf to the table where Fiona had just thrown her coat before vanishing into the large parlour that functioned as her office.
Without Frank around, Fiona had a tough time doing all this little its and bits she normally didn't even think of. A smile broke through her lips and she shook her head, chuckling quietly. If Frank came back to this tidy place with coffee already made, finding her checking the calendar and a "to do" list made all by herself, he'd die of a shock in an instant.
It had been hard for her, though, and she was already longing for him to come back, whenever that would be.

Since it was impossible for her to work without coffee, Fiona got her glasses and the Daily Prophet and made herself comfortable on the sofa, while outside the first Muggles left their houses to go to work and the streets of London slowly came to life.

It wasn’t like Frank to call out of work. In fact, he didn’t recall a day he had in the past couple of years, other than to get over an awful flu he’d been blind sided with last winter. Even then, he’d taken work home with him and kept caught up. For the past week, however, he hadn’t been able to do much of anything. He had used ‘dragon pox’ as his excuse for secluding himself from work and anyone else who would bother him, holing up in his apartment and allowing time for healing.

All in all, he was physically feeling much better. The burns on his feet were a dull red that he found easy to cover with his shoes, and the bruises over his torso were covered with his shirt. Or what was left of them, anyway. He had his nose reset and had taken the first few days after his transformation to find out how soft his mattress was. His conclusion was that he needed to invest in a better one. That, or he had pulled something in his back as well.

Which, when he replayed what he could recall over, it wasn’t entirely out of the picture. Along with recovering, he’d taken time to deal with his emotions. He’d killed two people… He’d eaten one of them! Even thinking about it made him gag, and he’d had a hard time keeping much down. How he’d managed to drag himself back to his apartment was almost as uncertain as he was to how he’d managed to not be caught.

No one was expecting a werewolf out during the day. Some part of his brain denied it; he swore it had to be a dream. Some horrible, terrible dream. Maybe he’d taken something he shouldn’t have. Or perhaps he was just going crazy. There was no bite; when he’d stumbled into St. Mungo’s, he had worried they would put him in the Janus Thickey Ward. Luckily he’d been sent home with an encouragement to rest and some potions to help him sleep and heal.

Now, though, he had to get back to what was real. He had a job, he had bills, and he had no one else to support him. He hadn’t slept very long either, the potion only helping to a degree. The beard that had greeted him made him nearly fall over. In fact, it wasn’t until then that he realized a good portion of his body needed a proper shave. He had never seen so many chest hairs… or back hairs. And as his wand was still missing… he had done what pruning he could with scissors and then shaved his face.

The shower had felt amazing, and after he’d searched his fridge for something that looked appetizing, finally coming out with ground meat he hadn’t had a chance to cook up for spaghetti. Frank was disgusted with himself by all the drooling he did, but once it was cooked up (still mostly pink), he’d wolfed it down (perhaps a pun was intended).

It was chilly out, but he overdressed for it. The growth of hair on his arms had been alarming, and the last thing he needed was to make up some half brained story about an accidental hair growth potion ingestion. Even the hair on his head was longer than he liked, but for now Frank had to live with it. He would make an appointment later for a cut. And to see about getting a replacement wand…

Regardless, it was fairly early, the sun only starting to peak through buildings, when Frank had tugged on his outfit. By the time he reached the ‘office,’ it was all ready six thirty. He had had the overwhelming desire to smell things that were full of flavor; like he could taste the tender beef as the butcher worked, or as if he could fill up on the erotic aroma of fresh coffee.

When he entered, he attempted to be as quiet as possible. There was a possibility that Fiona wasn’t there yet. However, as the smell of rain and city dissipated in the entrance, he caught a faint whiff of coffee, and more importantly, a very flowery, slightly nauseating perfume. Then again, with what he had been eating and smelling the last week and few days, he didn’t think it was necessarily repugnant. Just… not something he accustomed to.

He hadn’t seen the Daily Prophet in the past few days, and wasn’t aware of any story about what he had done. Trudging further in, he came across Fiona. Wearing pink. He blinked and looked down at himself, back at her, and then at the door. Was he still sleeping? Running his fingers through his hair, he finally took in a breath. “Are you feeling all right?” In retrospect, perhaps it was odd, him asking her. Moving towards the coffee machine, he started to pour a cup, adding what she liked to it as if it were second nature.

Blabla..blablablahh..blah. Daily newspapers sucked. Of course, they were a vital source for historians- sometimes the only source one could easily access. But reading this day by day could be tiresome.

He entered so quietly, he made Fiona jump.
"Frank?“ The historian peered over the paper and the glasses to the door in disbelief.
Sure, she wanted him to come back and all, but Dragon Pox could be nasty and were nothing she really wanted Aiden to live through any time soon. She did not expect him to come back before late November or early December. Then again, working for her might have had a bad influence on his attitude towards work in general.
Fiona sighed. He looked awful somehow, though there was something about him that felt different. Was he taller? She shook her head and took the glasses off. Impossible. Maybe that was just the long hair. What the hell happened to his hair?

"Am I feeling all right?“ she raised an eyebrow and tossed the paper on the floor. “How are you feeling, Mr. Dragon Pox?“

She watched her trainee immediately going for the coffee- not to pour a cup for himself, but for her. One milk, no sugar. He could have done that even when lying in coma, she thought. It wasn't a sign for the returned health. "Thank you“

Still watching him closely, she pulled her legs closer to herself and patted on the free spot. It was time for them to have a little chat lateron, but for now she had to make sure he was alive, well and able to get through the day without collapsing. Maybe a little  small talk would help her find the right words to tell him what he needed to hear. "Come, sit down before the sofa drowns in paperwork again. It took me days to bury it out.“

"You can see the floor now, did you notice?“

When he heard his name in such disbelief, he wondered if taking a few days from work had been the smartest decision. At this rate, if he happened to be out for a month, she might forget who he was at all. Biting his lower lip and smiling slightly around it, he still felt weak. Like he could have crawled back into bed and put his pillow over his head to sleep another few hours. Really, he figured he just needed a decent meal, but had felt queasy any time he considered it.

He’d been keeping most of his meals down the past couple days, at least. His eyes took in the cleaned space, curious if she had hired a maid in the time he had been ill. If it wasn’t for the fact that the woman looked like Fiona, he might have thought he’d stepped into a different time. Or a different house… Or maybe he was still dreaming.

Well, until the paper was tossed onto the floor. That gave him a sense of relief; not everything was changed at least. “What?” Then he remembered his cover story and he shook his head slightly, a clipped laugh escaping him before he sighed. “I’m all right, recovered quicker than I expected.” If what he had done was real, he didn’t know if there would be enough time to recover, truth be told. Surely it was some sort of illness… His hand absentmindedly ran over his neck, again in search of some bite that might make him think it was possible.

But once again he had to remind himself that there wasn’t a bite, nothing healing and nothing new, anywhere on his body.

An eyebrow rose at her thanks but he merely nodded, moving once again to fill a cup for himself. Why was she wearing perfume? His nose wrinkled slightly as the smell of it, mingling with the coffee and parchment aroma, created a rather light headed sense of nausea. In truth, Frank had been getting used to the more than usually powerful olfactory sense; quite a few things had made him feel that way, including the lack of shower for a couple days after the nightmare.

“Come, sit down before the sofa drowns in paperwork again. It took me days to bury it out.”

He froze slightly as he picked up the cream, staring down into the coffee. She was inviting him over to sit. Closer to that smell. With just a slight bit of cream added, he decided he needed as bitter a wake up as possible; maybe that would knock his nose into submission. A laugh again came out as he turned to her, moving to the sofa as… ordered? “Did I notice I wasn’t tripping over stacks of books and unfiled papers? Not at all.”

It was best for him that it was cleaned up; less chance of him tripping and making a bigger mess, which he had done on numerous occasions. “Who did you hire to do that?” Leaning back and attempting to get comfortable, he realized how tiring the walk to work had been. He should have had a more filling meal. Taking a sip of the coffee, wincing slightly as he did, he finally balanced the cup on his thigh. “So this is how this sofa feels.”

“Who did you hire to do that?”

„I am shocked to see you think I hired someone for this, Frank. I did that all by myself, of course.“
Taking a sip of her coffee, Fiona grinned over the edge of her cup. „I am not that untidy...“

Leaning back her thoughts wandered to last monday, when Sophia had tripped over a bag and fallen into several piles of parchment and books. Her sister brought along their mother Amelia, who had freaked out instantly and forced Sophia to stay for a couple of days and help order this mess. It had been an order and since arguing with Amelia was more stressful then sorting 6.000 books and countless files, the Lloyd sisters had spent a lot of time together the following week.
„I might have had scary mother monster here as - let's call it 'motivation'.“
Thinking back, Fiona could not remember why they came in the first place. Since Frank had been ill she had been forced to answer a letter from her mother herself and that hardly ever happened.
„I'm thinking she came to see if i was able to cope without you around.“ Or to see if Fiona had killed him.

She had been able to. She had had no other choice if things turned out the way Gareth and her had discussed it. Or if he choose to leave...

Watching him getting comfortable, the historian leaned back herself placing her feet carefully next to the cup on Frank's legs. „Good, don't you think? If I liked her, I'd almost be grateful for forcing me to do this.“

She took another, long sip of coffee without taking her eyes of him. She had to tell him.

„Frank...,“she said it hesitantly, carefully arranging the words in her head before letting them out,“I have been thinking.Or rather: Gareth and I have been thinking.“

„We think you've grown out of being the best person for this assistant job.You're too old.“

Taking a deep breath, and a another sip of her coffee, she wondered if he had ever thought of that in the past months.
Again it had been her mother who had thrown that thought in the air like an insult to her daughter, but it had not taken long for Gareth and Fiona to warm up to that thought. Who are you to keep a competent man like him as your coffee maker? He has deserved better than having his skills die here beneath the mess. Never gotten over the typical relationship between mother and teenage daughter, the book hunter still hated it when her mother was right. It seemed wrong.

„So...“ Another long, long, long sip. Was that a little mean?
„What do you think?“

„You think you'd be fine working as an equal partner of Ambridge &Lloyd Ltd. without having your name appearing in the company name if, say, you walked upstairs and found your own office with an insanely large desk in it?“

He gave her a weak smile; if she wasn’t that untidy… did it just take her getting to a certain point before she would then tidy up? Or maybe it was her-ah yes. A flash of understanding crossed his pale face at the mention of her mother. Frank didn’t mind Fiona’s mother, personally, but understood enough to realize that Fiona did. He even felt a little sad he’d missed out on that fun little soirée, imagining the fun chatting that would have happened, amidst the cleaning of her messy lair.

“I’m thinking she came to see if I was able to cope without you around.”

“Was she surprised, then?” There had been a time where there had been no Frank, after all. Sure, one could get used to an extra set of hands to keep up on things, and if you weren’t doing something, it was easier to push it out of sight, out of mind. Once he was settled, he nodded at her question, unsure if it was more rhetorical or not. His grin slid easier this time onto his face, glancing at her with a knowing raise of the eyebrow. “I’m sure you two bonded.” Over cleaning up the disaster that was the study? He was surprised he hadn’t heard word of her mother having a heart attack.

Frank ended up looking away from her, finding the staring contest a bit too much for him. Glancing down into his cup, he tried to think of the things he had to get back on top of. Hearing his name again, his head came back up, his eyes finding hers once again. “Yes?”

Her next words caused his face to freeze—he called out sick for a week and he was losing his position?! A mini panic attack started to settle in, his breathing coming in a little faster, though he stayed perfectly still, and his eyes widened very slightly. Too old to be an assistant?! Licking his lips, he glanced down from her face, looking at the space that separated them, attempting to find the words he would be able to use to convince her otherwise. Sure, it wasn’t the most glorious job, but he was grateful that he had one!

“So… What do you think?”

“Well, I mean.” His hand started to shake slightly and he gripped the coffee cup tighter to stop it. “Surely you are still in need of… someone to… keep up on the paperwork and bills and-” His voice was getting softer as he spoke, as if he had a lump in his throat that was closing it off.

“You think you’d be find working as an equal partner-”

And then his rambling sentences tapered off into silence, hearing her words but not sure if he really heard them. Finally his eyes looked up, meeting hers, surprise evident in his shocked and slightly blank stare. So… wait, he wasn’t getting fired? He wasn’t being asked to take his stapler and vacate the premises? Closing his mouth was a bit of an effort, but once he did, he lifted his hand to his hair, running his fingers through it, some resemblance to the Frank of old.

His own office? He was fine with being just an equal partner… but with all the added bonuses… His head finally nodded in agreement. “Of course.” He might need pinched. Was this what normally happened when people took sudden leaves of absence at work? They came back to a promotion? Finally he felt his grin widen, and he nodded a bit more enthusiastically, forgetting for the moment all the terrible things that had been bothering him. “I would be-oh, merlin-more than happy, Fiona.” Was it April fool’s day? Did they have a second one he wasn’t aware of?