8:40 PM
Friday


Tick. Tick. Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tock.

The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the Office of the Head Auror resonated loudly through the open threshold and echoed over rows of desolate and darkened cubicles. Oil and candle lanterns stood cold and immobile from overhead, even the white wisps of extinguished flame long forgotten casting level two in shadow. There was a notable stillness to the air, a Silence that told a person immediately that the area forsaken of life or activity. Except for that small, incessant ticking of the Grandfather clock as it counted the seconds. Besides the scratch of a quill and the warmth of the fireplace crackling at her back, the sound remained as Tamis Raynor’s only companion.

In deepest reaches of Level Two, nestled at the very back of the Auror Office, behind that sea of law enforcing cubicles, a beacon of light shone through a solitary door. While the rest of the Ministry of Magic’s work shift had retired anxiously to their long awaited weekend, Tamis Raynor’s candles and torches were still blazing and her fireplace well fed as she bent over several documents, a quill in hand and an inkwell handy to keep her neat, flowy handwriting at a consistent rate across the parchment.

Finishing a report the woman diligently removed the excess ink with a blotting paper before setting it aside to try and selected the next file from what seemed like a never ending stack. If she did not know any better, she might believe that Archer or Pratt had placed a self-replenishing charm on it and had been suffering from stomach pains of carefully controlled laughter for over two months now. It would have been quite an intelligent swindling but they were notorious, not cruel. 

Leaning back for a moment, Tamis enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace battling the winter chill. She ran a hand through her long hair, pulling the long strains back and away from her forehead and then let the hand slide down her face to massage her brows. There was easily another hour, maybe two, of paperwork on this desk. Obsessively compulsive about deadlines -- as she preferred not to let technical hogwash interfere with investigations – she was finding it increasingly more difficult to maintain them.

There was a firm, crisp rap on the open doorway of her Office and her heart sank.  She felt horrible. Archer usually tried to drag her away from the Ministry by nine o’clock, insisting that a fifteen hour work day was quite long enough. Not to mention this was supposed to be their first official venture into the realm of “flat hopping”. While she was quite certain the burly man would have been quite content to become a permanent fixture in her small apartment, she was not quite ready to sacrifice her independence entirely. Thus, the weekends had become his residential turf.

She sighed, “Pouting is not going to work this time. These have to be in by tomorrow.”

 Except, when she peered between her fingers at the man that limped into her office, she realized it had not been Archer Radley she had just addressed.

 Not even close.

Level Two had taken on a curious resemblance to Azkaban Prison, and for a moment it was all Jason MacDonell could do to stand at the door to the stairs, eyeing the rather grim scene with a bemused expression. Of course, he himself had seen more than his fair share of late nights when he ran the Auror Office, trying to rebuild the Corps after the defeat of Voldemort. But he had usually had a cadre of subordinates here with him into the wee small hours, doggedly faithful to their lofty goal (or terrified of leaving before their boss finally pried himself away). Raynor was either a more solitary or a less intimidating figure, for she seemed to be here alone.

Having trained her himself, he was betting heavily on her just preferring solitude.

Far across the sea of cubicles Jason saw the only strong glow, from the Auror leader's office, and he headed in that direction quietly. Though his limp made stealth a bit harder, he had taken the stairs deliberately, hoping to catch his protege by surprise. While he had told her once that she had nothing more to learn from him -- and it was true -- that hardly meant he shouldn't keep her on her toes.

Then again, rumor had it that Raynor was staying more than busy enough without MacDonell's help. The Auror Corps had a well-deserved reputation for professionalism, efficiency, and leadership, which had won them wide acclaim and respect. Unfortunately, it also had a nasty tendency to mean Aurors were the first sought after when more responsibility needed to be passed off. How many of the past Ministers had originated in this office? More than enough to prove the point. And now, without any top-tier leadership left in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, rather than appoint a new Head, it seemed the general consensus that Tamis Raynor should just pick up the slack.

A frown crossed Jason's weathered face. He knew Raynor had the ability, and she would certainly throw herself headlong into the work before ever admitting it might be too much, but that was exactly the problem. He couldn't how little time she had for stress relief, or even simple relaxation. Taking the helm at Darcy Bloxham's trial had been just one more weight on the woman's shoulders. This was all the real reason Jason was here; though he would never say it aloud, knowing Raynor would jinx him, he was worried about her.

Granted, Raynor was a tiny thing, but the former Auror leader was still a bit concerned to barely see his old friend behind the stacks of paper on her desk. Taking his cane midway down the shaft in his real hand, he rapped his gloved hand twice on the door, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Pouting is not going to work this time. These have to be in by tomorrow."

He stared for a moment before his usual smirk crept into his expression. "Alas, and I've been working on my quivering lip, too," he remarked drily. Leaning on the door frame with his left shoulder, shifting the weight off his right leg for a moment, he gestured to the desk. "Enjoying the perks of a senior leadership position, I see."

Jason winked.  "I take it that it was nay me you were expecting?"

The silence of the Office after hours had become a comfort in recent months. The woman was not often here alone, quite frequently Ackerly Fox or Charlene Malone would lurk about, completing tasks well into the next morning. They had their reasons for delaying a return home and Raynor never pried. Even Edward Pratt on occasion, whenever he was having particular trouble with his wife. Tamis had never really been acquainted with the woman and she was in no rush to alter that condition. His all-nighters had decreased drastically over the past few weeks. More often than not Archer was here lately, but he was quieter about it. It was disconcerting how a man so large could be so sneaky. She attributed it to his strong motivation not to get cornered into helping with paperwork.

Tonight, she had ordered any of the stranglers out. Everyone had been pushing personal limits of late. A Friday night out on town was healthy. The announcing knock at the threshold had been unexpected. The mistaken identity had been even more so.

Quill half poised over the next sheet of parchment with a small bead of ink poised dangerously on the tip, threatening to fall, Tamis blinked several times at the visitor. It was a surreal experience watching him stand there in the doorway. It felt like a mirror reflection of reality. For the greater part of her career it had been him behind this very desk and she the one calling on him. Even now, she had the reflexive urge to rise and relinquish her seat. She remained perfectly rooted to it instead. He would never live that down.

Nor was she sure that he was going to let her live this down.

The faintest tinge of pink warmed the slight woman’s cheeks in embarrassment. It deepened when he winked. She desperately hoped the orange glow of the fireplace masked it, but hope rarely won out against Jason MacDonell. Aiming for a quick recovery, she put the quill down before the ink could drip on the parchment below and cast the man a ‘look’ that lacked the heat it may have once had. “A perk that could have been given more forewarning. I might have reconsidered,” she joked. It was a lie and they both knew it. She had fussed in the beginning but she did not regret it.

Habitually, the younger Auror quickly but efficiently gave her predecessor an once-over as if, in that brief couple of seconds, trying to determine if he had any ailments. Just the normal ones, leaning against the door as he was. The gloved hand she had conditioned herself to stop staring at every time it moved in accordance to his will. She never asked, and never would, instead just glanced at two other available chairs in the room. He would sit if he pleased and that was the closest she would risk both their prides in asking.

“Should I have I been expecting you?” she quirked an eyebrow.  It was a much safer answer.

"Nice to know I can still make a woman besides Aurora blush," Jason remarked as he noticed the heat creeping into Raynor's cheeks.  And it truly was pleasant to see; aside from the amusement value, it reassured him that his old friend was still there inside the armor of the stern, officiating quasi-Department Head.  Not that he would expect anything less from a good friend and handpicking successor.

"A perk that could have been given more forewarning. I might have reconsidered."

"I felt it best to focus on the positives when I...offered you the job." The elder Auror grinned more widely. He had chosen the word deliberately; he knew as well as she did that Raynor's assumption of command had been less a 'would you like to' and more a 'guess what!'.

When Tamis glanced at the chairs in the office, MacDonell nodded. "Don't mind if I do, thank you," he observed, instictively taking the one farther from the door, so an attacker would only have a clean line if he actually stepped into the office. He leaned his cane against the left arm of his chair, right elbow resting on the other, his closed fist against his lips with a thoughtful expression.

"Should I have I been expecting you?"

"An interesting philosophical question," Jason noted pleasantly, though their was a mischievous glint in his bright eyes. "If you mean 'did I send any overt signal that I'd be here'? I confess I did not, but you know that's not my way."

He smiled. "If, on the other hand, you mean 'could I in good conscience keep hearing rumors that one of my best friends -- not to mention the woman responsible for the safety of Wizarding Britain -- has more on her plate than a troll at a buffet, and hasn't left the Ministry before dark in weeks, and now is apparently running the Wizengamot too'," he added, smile twisting a bit to a smirk, "'and not step in to make sure her head is still above water? And paper?' Surely you know me better than that."

The older wizard offered his infuriatingly charming smile. "And you haven't answered my question, by the way."

“If Aurora can fall victim, resistance if futile for the rest of us,” she defended. It had been a while since she had seen the other woman as well. She was a very strong and collected soul that Tamis respected dearly and their friendship had grown considerably from that frazzled encounter in Knockturn Alley. As had this one. If the hot-tempered scowling young woman confronting Jason MacDonell on the slopes of Scotland if she would ever consider the man among her close associates she would have laughed herself into a grave. She had other reasons to laugh now.

“How truly diplomatic of you,” she replied darkly as he settled across from her. Yes. It had been an absolutely brilliant stroke of diplomacy when he had dictated, to the entire Office no less, that she would be succeeding him. She was not sure who had looked more surprised, them or her.

That had been five years ago. It felt like twenty. That was probably a bad thing. It had been completely horrifying having to assume that responsibility then. She had been convinced – and still was – that the Healers were wrong and that the spell that had injured MacDonell had affected his brain and not his leg. The limp was a clever alibi.

Gray eyes warily viewed Jason from across the expanse of the desk, absorbing his pensive expression and playful demeanor with care. It reminded her of the way a cat might bat around its prey for the thrill of the hunt rather than an actual capture. Considering the man’s preferred animagus form that was not a particularly reassuring analogy.

Even so, simply sitting across from him, she felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. The explanation lessened the burden even more. The small smile that overcame her was entirely involuntary. Since joining the Corps in nineteen ninety four, Tamis Raynor had felt that she had something to prove to the world and she had never stopped proving. Over the years, the façade had become too convincing. No one ever doubted her ability. No one ever questioned her level of control of mental well being – Nadge did not count. It was… startling but refreshing. Not that she would admit it.

Silence.

Then, “The Wizengamot was a onetime deal,” she corrected.

And she was more than obliged to allow it to stay that way. Bringing in the accused? That was a comfort zone she could contend with. But actually delivering the verdict and crossing the line between being the hand of the law and its head? It had been an uncomfortable experience, grasping the fate of an individual so intimately. Granted, the Wizengamot had vastly decided that fate, but she had made it official. Tamis Raynor did not lust for power or fame. She simply wanted to do her job. Brushing against that power had left her feeling… tainted. She was not keen on repeating it.

Running both of her hands over her face; she sunk a little deeper into the chair yet uncannily did not seem to sacrifice her rigid posture in doing so. She sidled a glance over at him and pointed out with a small smirk, “And it is polite to let best friends know when you are keeping tabs on them.” Not particularly hard for anyone to do, given the Prophet’s interest in Level Two of late.

She did know him better than that. Enough to know that her question redirect was only going to last so long. She glared back at that familiar, charismatic grin that she was in a perpetual state of denial that it could not work on her. Finally she relented and rolled her eyes, feeling very much ten years younger as she sat back up. Tilting her chin, she considered him for a minute and then relented with a shrug.

“I am seeing someone,” she replied carefully.

Such a simple statement, said with feigned causality. Yet so incredibly significant. She had not been in a romantic relationship for almost two decades following the death of her former fiancé. Jason MacDonell remained the sole person alive that knew any intimate details at all of what had happened the night Tait Aldridge had died and why she had joined the Corps, and while those details were more than she gave in her official report, they still had not been the whole story. It was a large, fragile step for her. Much larger than even the man she was dating knew. One more factor in the stress equation.

Jason laughed at the quip about Aurora, nodding. "I'll grant ye that," he conceded with a smirk. While the untameable Aurora Le Fey could hardly be considered 'domestic' even now, there was no denying that she and Jason were much more settled than could ever have been imagined by their more...boisterous personalities earlier in life. Leaning back in his chair, marveling at how odd it still feels to be on this side of the desk even though he spent most of his career here, he adds carefully, "I didn't mention I'd be stopping here, but I expect she'll know I did, what with everything going on, so I feel safe in saying she says hello too."

The subtle undercurrent in his voice made it clear that Jason had not been the only MacDonell worried about Raynor.

"How truly diplomatic of you."

"Och aye, that's me, diplomacy and politics and political correctness and..." The former Head Auror trailed off as a guilty smirk touched his face; he could usually lie quite convincingly, but something so ridiculous is beyond even his ability.

"The Wizengamot was a onetime deal."

Jason's smile faded slightly, and his bright eyes narrowed into a shrewd expression. "Ye think so? Who else to lead, if not you? As long as senior posts are vacant and the seniors that are can't be bothered, I'm afraid it devolves back on you, my dear."

"And it is polite to let best friends know when you are keeping tabs on them."

"I'm retired, Tamis, I have enough free time to always keep tabs on you," MacDonell returned brightly, though the penetrating look remained in his eyes. He tilted his head to one side curiously, heightening the expression, when Raynor sank briefly into her chair. But when the petite Auror leader dropped her next bombshell, the emerald eyes widened.

"I am seeing someone."

Jason's lips parted slightly, but no sound escaped them, and he closed them again, looking thoughtful. More than most, he comprehended immediately the import of Raynor's admission. Her last relationship had ended so disastrously, with such horror and heartbreak, that Raynor had left her entire career to join the Aurors. Few people knew better than Jason MacDonell that some scars never fully heal, and he had always suspected, with a grimly understanding sympathy, that Tamis had been dealt a wound from which she would never really recover.

Now, confronted with the reality that he had, perhaps, been wrong, he allowed himself to speak to the first emotion which touched him.

"I'm glad."

He smiled a rare, genuinely warm smile, the kind Aurora sometimes chided him for usually concealing from everyone but his children and Aurora herself.  Leaning forward with interest, he added, "What's he like? Do I know him?"

After a quick contemplative moment, the Auror inclined her head to her Mentor’s assessment of his wife’s intuition. The unspoken  yet understood message weighed heavily on her before she finally replied, “I trust she and the children are doing well?”

It had been too long since she last saw them.

That infamous gaze glittered behind his narrowed eyes, pinning the younger woman to her chair. But she remained unperturbed, shifting back up into her normal rigid posture and lifting her chin just so. It was not a challenge as much as it was stubborn defiance but it was certainly a reminiscent reminder that their friendship had not begun on a cordial foundation. Tamis Raynor and Jason MacDonell had never been afraid of butting heads.

After a moment, the tension drained from her, though a great deal of the underlying stress remained. She sighed, pulling hair back away from her face as a nervous tick.

“There is always someone else,” she rebutted.

It was true. Every employee of the Ministry of Magic was both expendable and replaceable; pawns at the mercy of the Bureaucracy. While some may be better suited than others, they all played the same part. That was how, in great part, the Ministry was very efficient in its perseverance. When she refused a promotion that summer, it had passed to Gawain Robards and the Department moved on. Just as if she were to meet a fatality – probable considering the conflict her career had with life insurance – the Auror Office would move on. Tamis Raynor was loyal to the Ministry, a fact that the wise did not forget.  She did not fool herself with misconceptions of self worth.

She did not believe herself incapable; she just did not actively seek Power. When responsibility was thrust upon her she could accept it and make the best of it. Tamis knew she could never be the leader Jason had been and still was nor did she try to be. She acted as her own person, another version of the pawn.

“Should I find that comforting?” She quipped back to his admittance of surveillance, one corner of her mouth pulling back at the sudden jovial nature of his tone – feigning oblivion to unyielding intensity in his sharp green eyes.

There was a lecture coming, there was a tangible thread of its impending arrival. Not all of those lectures were verbal. Tamis liked to believe she had contracted MacDonell’s ability to give an entire speech with a single glance. She was working on the talent, at least. Her admittance seemed to delay its appearance. 

His eyes turned from slits to saucers, shattering Jason’s stoic persona. It was with great difficulty that she refrained from running a hand through her hair yet again, or biting her lip, or nervously shifting in her chair. Instead of twining her fingers together, she glanced down at them, revealing some of the anxiety about her new relationship that she often kept carefully concealed. That same apprehension had nearly ruined the budding romance not even a week prior.

“I’m glad.”

Her head shot up just in time to catch the brilliant smile spreading across the older man’s lips. It truly did wonders for his demeanor. She owned Aurora an apology for not believing her.

MacDonell leaned forward, eyes glittering with a different sort of intensity and Raynor almost leaned back – except hers was already pressed against the tall armchair. What was he like? Stubborn. Arrogant. Rather dense at times. Had a diet that could use improvement. … Sweet. Loyal. And incredibly patient. She mentally teetered with uncertainty. This was either going to go very well or blow up very bad. But if there was one person in the world she sought the approval of, it was this man.

“You know him.” She waited a heartbeat, not wanting to risk that smile disappearing. Had to come out eventually. One corner of her mouth tweaked back again, this time into a sheepish grin. Tamis felt like she was sixteen and about to tell her father that she was dating that hooligan that always paraded by on the flying motorcycle. “Do you remember Archer Radley?”

Considering how often Archer and Tamis both had sat moodily in this very office for their childish and petty rivalry in the early years following the second war, the petite woman was certain he had not forgotten. But it felt easier to word the response as a question than a direct statement.

"I trust she and the children are doing well?"

Jason nodded easily, seeing clearly that Raynor got his subtle hint. "They are, thank ye.  Aurora is...well, she's Aurora. She doesn't change much...but then, why should perfection have to?" he asks, looking dreamy for a second. Then he refocuses and adds, "Alex is eager to have Jack home from Hogwarts for the holidays, though I think Jack will miss it."

He smiled at the thought of his two children. Jack, almost a spitting image of her mother save for having her father's emerald eyes. Alex, eager and excited and incredibly jealous of his older sister for already being at Hogwarts.

"There is always someone else."

"But only when there needs to be," the elder Auror retorted with a smile. "People step up when the need arises, but that doesn't diminish the value of those who are here now. And successors always need to work their way up to competence, whereas you've already hit that mark and gone beyond it. No, lass, I fear you're first on the line to be 'volunteered'. Take it as a compliment."

"Should I find that comforting?"

"Depends -- where my eyes are, my wand can be quickly too, when it's needed." He smirks. "I'm nay sure whether ye find that a good or bad thing...our line of work has gotten so unexciting of late..."

"You know him. Do you remember Archer Radley?"

The eyebrows went up again.  Of course Jason did remember Radley; though over a decade younger than Jason himself, the two had served together even longer than that. They were as different as two people on the same side could be, and MacDonell had more than one distinct memory of Radley and Raynor together here, when Jason still sat on the other side of the desk.

"As last I remember, you two were a bit...temperamental with one another," he noted, trying not to smirk. Then he failed as something occurred to him. "I wondered why he was giving me a look at the trial. It wasn't an 'och, the boss is going to kill me' look, I could nay place it at the time."

He winked at Tamis. "I think it was a 'Why do ye get to sit by Raynor when I don't?' look!"

Laughing for a moment, he leaned back in his chair and answered her question more directly. "Aye, I remember Radley. Never my kind of Auror, but I think that'd be best for you. You couldn't be with someone like me or Annwyl, or Heaven forbid Belisario, too hard. And ye'd bicker too much about...acceptable battle tactics," he added, grinning. Though Jason and Tamis had formed a close relationship over the years, he thought privately the fact that they'd run out of Death Eaters on which to use Unforgivable Curses had helped. "He's a lawman, not a soldier, which is what you are, and what you all should be. Hard worker, loyal man. And his heart's always in the right place."

His smile faded slightly, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as he considered the inherent problem. "Dating a subordinate, though...I'm happy for ye, Tamis, but I'm not sure everyone will see it that simply. Constant vigilance, lass. And..." He trailed off, frowning now, his normal bluntness failing him as he hesitated to ask the other natural question.

A twinge of unexpected envy tip-toed across her subconscious before her tackled it and dragged it back kicking and screaming to wherever it had come from. From the sheer enrapture that had changed the man from hardened war veteran to doting husband to the amusement underlying the mundane concerns plaguing his son and daughter. It was so incredibly normal and complete. It was a life most in this line of worked hoped to one day be able to maintain. She could not hinder the small returning smile as Raynor inclined her head back at him, acknowledging that she was happy that his retirement was treating him well.

“Extraordinarily dull,” she agreed to the nature of Law Enforcement work with typical British humor. But that compliment troubled her. Jason made her sound like a revolutionary. Three department members, two high profile, were dead on her watch – her boss one of them. One of her Aurors had been Imperioused and it had escaped her notice. And yet another had handed her his badge over stress she should have been paying attention to other than focusing on her own woes. “I do not agree with your assessment,” she replied quietly.

How many times could she shock the man in one night? At least twice. By the height of his eyebrows, ‘Archer Radley’ had certainly not been among the names MacDonell had considered. Her mouth opened and closed several times in a failed impersonation of a fish as his surprise translated into that typical confident smirk. The one a cat wore when it finally got the upper hand on the canary.

She died a little in embarrassment when he winked at her. Clearing her throat, she scratched awkwardly at the junction between her shoulder and neck. Raynor had her own theories as to why Archer and caught glances with Jason. She was not sharing them. Luckily he continued before she had to.

Her turn to be dumbfounded now as he began to investigation her romantic MO. At the mention of Belisario, her back straightened and she sent him a sharp look. Certainly not. Whatever pleasantries she reserved for that man had vanished along with him. “We bicker enough,” she said wryly. Did more than that earlier that week. The casualty to the wall still stood as evidence. Nothing quite did compare to MacDonell and her political feud. “As long as the giant snakes stay out of it, we may survive yet.”

A frustrated scowl darkened her complex briefly, “I am very well aware of the complexities.” Too aware. Tamis Raynor was a woman of strong moral background -- a very white-laced one. Her rebellion against the established order that had fueled her youth had died with Tait Aldridge. A relationship of this nature made a complete and utter hypocrite of her. “I was content to ignore developing emotions, but he was stubbornly persistent.” She shook her head, rubbing at a temple. “Our personal connection is not a secret but we are not broadcasting it either.”

Concerns and anxieties that had lurked underneath the prioritized stresses related to the Auror Office were weaseling to the surface. An uncomfortable restlessness started at her toes and rapidly spread upward. She needed to move. And that need reminded her of her neglected hospitality?

“Would you like a drink?” She was on her feet and rummaging through the cabinet behind the desk before he had properly responded. Or rather before he had a chance to potentially turn the offer down and void her excuse to stand. On her feet and having busied herself with a task other than staring sheepishly at her mentor feeling like they needed to swap chairs helped reestablish some calm.

It was snatched right back away from her as he continued and she shifted back to look at him.

And….? There were too many different connotations behind a normal trailing ‘And’. Several of them were already chattering nervous loops through her brain. But this was a hesitating And. He hesitated. Jason MacDonell never hesitated. Why was he hesitating? Despite her best efforts to contain it heat began to creep into her cheeks as the possible meanings behind ‘And’ took an exaggerated and rather horrifying twist. Well. That certainly was not it. Was it?

Maintaining her composure she returned to the desk with a bottle of Mead and two glasses. Pouring the drinks she tried to sound as neutral as possible. “And?” she encouraged.

"I do not agree with your assessment."

Jason tilted his head to one side at Raynor's quietly grim tone, frowning sympathetically. He did not need Legilimency to realize how the strains of late had been weighing on her, for it was written on her face, and he could easily recognize the expression, having worn it rather a lot himself once upon a time. "You do the best ye can, Tamis, that's all anyone can expect. And it's more than many others could do." Wincing, he forced himself to add, "How many of our brothers did I lead to their deaths at Azkaban? It's a hard job, and even the best of us can't cover every hoop all the time."

The stream of emotions changing places with one another across Raynor's face lightened the mood a bit, though Jason was still reeling from the revelation. Raynor and Radley...he remembered pairing them together, hoping that their shared 'lawman, not soldier' mindset would serve as an example to the rest of the Department. He coughed as an excuse to cover his mouth with his gloved hand and hide his smirk as he wonders exactly what they had been doing while 'partnered'.

"I was content to ignore developing emotions, but he was stubbornly persistent."

This time the laugh escaped before he could bottle it. "Aye, I can believe that easily," he teased gently. It certainly did fit both their personalities; Raynor, focused as a mother dragon over her eggs, easygoing and friendly Radley as hopelessly loyal as a krup. "I'm glad he stuck to it, though."

"Our personal connection is not a secret but we are not broadcasting it either."

MacDonell nodded more seriously. "That's very wise."

When she offered a drink, he opened his mouth to reply, but she was already on her feet in a blur of motion so quick his real hand twitched toward his wand pocket before he smothered the instinct. "Um...sure..." he replied slowly, watching her with narrowed eyes and a confused smile. Perhaps it was simply the topic. Getting Tamis Raynor to discuss feelings, especially those of the warm, squishy variety, was like breaking into Gringott's; difficult, complicated, and likely to end in horrifically painful death. "Mead, if ye have it."

He pauses, then smirked and added, "Unless that's the poisoned one." He hoped she had kept up the 'tradition'.

"And?”

The elder Auror sighed, wondering whether Raynor had considered this point. He took the glass of mead with a nod of thanks, taking a swallow to buy himself a second to plan his words carefully. "And..." he began again, then stopped, frowning. He looked up and met Raynor's gaze directly, emerald eyes glittering in the dim light.

"Like I said, ten of our brothers died at Azkaban because of me. It was the right thing to do, sending them there, and they would never have let me do anything else even if they'd known what was coming. But I had to make that decision." He analyzed her expression carefully. "Could ye do that, Tamis? Could you send Archer to his death if it was what needed to be done? Ye may not be soldiers anymore, but this line of work still calls for the ultimate sacrifice from time to time."

The approval of Archer Radley’s persistence surprised her enough that she glanced back at the veteran Auror actually allowing some of that surprise to manifest physically. It was not that she thought Jason doubted Archer’s character just, well, she had not expected it. With all the securities of Gringotts, she nodded, tackling the more serious comment versus having to deal with the emotional one. “Azkaban was a different kind of game,” she pointed out intelligently returning with their drink of choice as she ran with his analogy.

At the mention of poisoned beverages, she managed a hint of a smirk. “The Mead? That would be a tragedy.” She would have been a fool not to take the man’s advice to heart. “Our disdain for firewhiskey is mutual.”

That And.

 The younger Auror quieted both physically and mentally, retracting inside of herself and emotionally away from the situation. It had been a point she had considered. Not quite in that light but she had considered it. It had always formulated itself in the fashion of, if she had to choose between saving an innocent and saving her partner if she would make the choice their profession demanded of her. Different scenario same root question; was she too close to Archer Radley to successfully do her job.

 Tamis set the cork back into the mouth of the bottle and even put it away. Just as silently and not meeting her old friend’s gaze, she lowered herself back into her chair staring at the half finished paperwork still mocking her on top of her desk. Finally she met those intense green eyes again.

Despite all of her pretenses Tamis Raynor was not the hardened woman she had convinced the world for her to be. She did what she had to do. Sometimes she loathed herself more than she thought was possible. But she did what she had to do. It was her job to protect the people. At any cost.

Such were the pains of Leadership.

“I do not know,” was the honest response. “Even if I would want him to stay, I could not stop him anymore than you could have stopped me or the others from going with you to Azkaban.” The death toll had been traumatic and the survivors had not come out unscarred. MacDonell had received the blow to his leg that would force his retirement. Tamis’ arm had healed; opposite in the way Jason’s had when his had been hit with a similar spell all those years ago. She had maintained motor function but a wand was dead in her right hand now.

A lump grew in her throat as she added quietly, “I am loyal to the Ministry. If I felt my judgment was compromised I would rectify the situation.” It was always difficult for Aurors choosing loved ones versus the job; the job always had to come first. Tait Aldridge had done it. Jason MacDonell had done it. She hoped she would not have to.

She had given up her life to try and find peace with herself and the world. It was ironic that that sacrifice could be the one thing with the potential to keep her from finding it.

"The Mead? That would be a tragedy. Our disdain for firewhiskey is mutual."

Jason grinned in satisfaction, enjoying the taste of the mead. "I always knew ye had good taste, lass." Smirking, he added, "Talking about mead, of course, not Radley. But I suppose he'll do."

When she sank into herself at his 64,000-galleon question, though, Jason leaned back, left hand twisting the shaft of his cane unconsciously, watching her with concern and sympathy. Tamis Raynor knew better than most what it was to lose a love to the forces of evil, and what risks Aurors took every day on the job. To have that reality as a quiet specter in the back of one's mind was an occupational hazard for all of them; to actually give the order that sent a friend or love to death was a different game all together.

"I do not know. Even if I would want him to stay, I could not stop him anymore than you could have stopped me or the others from going with you to Azkaban."

"True," Jason conceded, setting his glass down on the desk as he leaned forward again. "But I'll admit to ye, after I knew ye were all right, I had many hard nights thinking about those ten at Azkaban. Doing the right thing isn't always made easy just because it's right."

"I am loyal to the Ministry. If I felt my judgment was compromised I would rectify the situation."

MacDonell shook his head. "I'd never question your loyalty, and I'm sure you'd do what you thought was best for the Ministry. But it isn't always that black and white."

He frowned, looking at the pile of paperwork vacantly for a moment. "I could have asked Aurora to come with us to Azkaban, deputized her for a night. She'd have been helpful, no doubt; she's a better fighter than half the Corps even now, let alone then. But I didn't, because I knew I couldn't stand to lose her, or have my children lose both their parents. And I wouldn't have been able to focus if she had been there."

He looked back up at Raynor, his expression neither sympathetic nor critical, merely penetrating. "Was that the right or wrong decision? Was making sure I could fight to the best of my ability the right thing to do, because it was my job, not hers? Or would one or two or three of those ten be alive if we'd had Aurora with us?"

The former Auror shrugged, pick up his glass, and took another sip. "I do nay know, and I never will. But the point is, no one will ever ask you straight out to pick Radley or duty. I hope that decision never, ever comes to you, but if it does, it will be subtle and without warning."

He pursed his lips for a moment, then added more slowly, "I'm nay saying don't pursue your relationship with him. Quite the contrary, in fact. If he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you. Just remember that things aren't always black-and-white and straightforward, especially when ye're the leader."

The younger Auror’s gray eyes lit with a brief impish glint that shifted her smirk into grin; relishing in the small victory of getting him to admit to a truth that had been carefully lurking beneath the surface. It lasted mere moments before it slid back into the sly, teasing compression of lips more frequent in regards to the nature of their friendship.

“You do hold some reservations about Archer Radley, then,” she ribbed, holding up her glass in mock salute. She was not offended. If she had been worried about being offended their acquaintance would have died on the slopes of Hogsmeade twelve years prior.

The classic British attempt to distract from uncomfortable conversation with well placed sarcastic humor was short lived. The undercurrent was far too somber and the matter at hand far too serious. For a long moment she remained withdrawn behind her social barriers, idly swirling the golden liquor. The question hard hurt, but he would not have asked it unless it was a pain she needed to feel. She did know; she knew what it felt like to have loved and lost – to watch that love used against the person she had held most dear. It was the most vulnerable emotion, love.

Tamis Raynor may not know what it felt like to send a loved one into peril, but she knew how it felt to be the sacrifice. Tait Aldridge had grown increasingly distant and more paranoid in the days preceding his death. He had known his actions would put him and his loved ones in danger. He had known and he had not regretted his decision even if it emotionally destroyed him, it was a truth he had tried to convey to her at the very end. She had not understood then. But however much Tait had loved Tamis he had made the choice that benefited the masses rather than his own desires.

She was not nearly so brave.

Apparently neither was MacDonell.

 Her eyes lifted as he learned forward, the motion caught in her peripheral. Doing the right thing was hardly ever easy. If it was the simpler answer crime would not be as prevalent. She would not have blamed Jason MacDonell if she had perished that night. She was certain those ten comrades had not felt ill-will. But that had not stopped the man from fretting about it. The soft smile that touched her lips was far more genuine than any of her previous offerings thus far, “I suppose it is human nature to be hard on one self.”

Understanding psychology did not mean she liked it.

His next admission was far weightier and a frown touched her lips to match his own as he took his turn to mentally withdraw, becoming rather pensive. It was uncharacteristic enough that she shifted, reacquainting with her impeccable posture as she analyzed the older man. She suppressed the rising levels of concern least he catch wind of their existence.

She was silent for a long time.

“Comparing Aurora to Archer is hardly fair.” He had made valid points. It had not been Aurora’s battle to fight. The concern of his wife presenting a distraction was a realistic one. Children certainly complicated such decisions. In the vast scheme of things the welfare of children over rid much of anything else. “Archer and I… we are just beginning to explore the potentials beyond the workplace. It is not a balanced comparison.”

How she might or might not feel about Archer Radley was a dilemma she was ready to admit to herself, let alone anyone else just yet.

“I am quite aware,” she dryly agreed at last, a smirk re-gracing her lips. “I may not see the gray as well as you do. But I have been enlightened.” The Second War had done that. And Aurora.   

"I suppose it is human nature to be hard on one self."

"Or at least the nature of a leader," Jason returned, nodding thoughtfully. Then, despite the gravity of the matter at hand, he could not help but wink at her and smirk briefly. "Another reason ye were the right choice to take over."

"Comparing Aurora to Archer is hardly fair. Archer and I… we are just beginning to explore the potentials beyond the workplace. It is not a balanced comparison."

"Not yet," MacDonell allowed, taking a sip of his drink and letting it slither slowly down his throat. "But the potential does exist. And that's a good thing, ye should nay be alone forever."

He gave her a melancholy smile. "I walked that road quite some time myself. It leads nowhere ye want to go. Thank God for Aurora."

Aurora Le Fey was a miracle, contrasting aspects that united in ways that seemed to make no sense whatsoever, but in the end produced a perfect picture. Capable of just as much razor edge as Jason himself, each had somehow managed to blunt it in the other, making themselves more empathic. And the need for the other's love and respect chained the darkness in each, restoring the humanity both had been at risk of losing at one point or another. Though at first he would never have expected their relationship to take this turn -- indeed, the fact that they hadn't killed one another had initially amazed him -- now Jason could not even conceive of life without her.

"I am quite aware. I may not see the gray as well as you do. But I have been enlightened."

"Och aye," Jason growled with a roll of his eyes. "I know, I know. 'MacDonell sees so many shades of gray, he forgets there's anything black and white'. I remember." That very criticism had been leveled against him more than once in the fading days of the Ministry before Voldemort overthrew it, mostly outside the Department, but occasionally among the less...combative Aurors as well. The former Auror seemed to remember Radley being one of those to share the sentiment, but chose not to mention that to Raynor.

Instead, he studied her for a moment, his penetrating expression back. The temptation to brush her mind was great, but he managed to resist. He had not missed that moment of withdrawal, brief though it had been, and so he took a shot in the dark. "As ye say, it's just beginning, only potentials. And that makes perfect sense. But keep an eye on your feelings, Tamis, and be honest with yourself and him about them. Because they can change like that." He snapped the fingers of his real hand.

Then he smiled, a genuine smile, some strange combination of teasing Raynor, nostalgic memory of his own past, and a somewhat smug knowledge of what might be coming. "Aurora and I...I never saw it coming. We worked together in the Order, of course, chanced to meet now and then working against Voldemort, even a casual conversation about the old days. But I didn't see it all coming together until..."

He snapped again, then smirked. "They sneak up on ye, those tricky feelings."

“Choice?” was the dry retort as she crossed her arms and stared darkly across the desk. It had been an intentional baiting if the smirk and wink had not said as much themselves. Predictably, Raynor rose to take it. “I do not recall a ‘choice’.”  Her expression remained coolly composed but the slight twinkle riddled in her eyes betrayed her. As much as Tamis Raynor might harp about MacDonell’s fleeing sanity, she was dedicated to her job and content with the position… once she had adjusted.

The new found humor, as bipolar as these encounters tended to be, faded in lieu of his next comment. ‘Not yet’. One of her eyebrows rose as her eyes narrowed, sitting a little more at attention at the sheer confidence in Jason’s voice. A surprising amount of confidence for a man whom, moments before, had been shocked at the revelation of Archer and hers personal affairs.  What did he know? Or what was he observing. She almost asked, but –

“ Ye should nay be alone forever.”

Staring back down into the Mead she watched the shadows of her reflection before taking a long sip. “I am comfortable alone,” she admitted. Much of her life had been spent as such. After the Raynor line had perished she had lived briefly with her aunt but spent the majority of her adolescence at an orphanage as a ward of the Ministry. A quality wizarding one mind, given her inheritance, but it had not been a suitable replacement. The Madame had been a drunkard. Much of her teenage rebellion had originated from that. Tait had stabilized her. Then she had lost him. As MacDonell stated himself, Aurors did not qualify for inexpensive life insurance. It was… easier… to be alone and know you are alone than to risk happiness and end up that way.

“I am not saying I wish to remain alone. Just that it is… a hard adjustment.” Archer would always mean a great deal to her. He constantly reminded her that, despite her best efforts, she was human and flawed. But he would never be able to understand just how difficult that adjustment could be. Tamis was envious of the man. He had a large, loving family and had grown up in that sheltering, nurturing environment. Simple affection came easy for him. What remained of her family…. she considered Anna Tawse… could not be classified under that term.

She remembered that MacDonell had walked the solitary path well enough. Tamis did not know the whole story and she was sure they were both grateful for that oblivion. It was that same intended ignorance that always made her ignore the fact that he now had two functional arms.

There had definitely been less doom and gloom once his wife had become an ensured part of his life. Instead of saying this, she coughed once and smirked at him, “Yes, Aurora is a blessing.” Her lack of religious tendencies could not quite bring her to agreeing with the existence of a ‘god’.

The nostalgia he divulged on the development of his relationship with Aurora Le Fey caused a small, genuine smile to crease her lips. At the mention of sneaking relationships, she thought back to the night with Archer at the gun range and at the imminent threat of turning pink again, cleared her throat again, “I will keep your advice in mind.”

And then, for a smoother recovery, “I am sure you did not come here with the objective of discussing love lives.”