10:56 am


A pair of sharp gray eyes peered intently at the latest reports on the Head Auror’s desk as their owner stood stooped over them, one elbow propped on the hard surface. Sitting would have been easier and more practical. But she grew wearisome of all the sitting; she was not designed for it, so the petite woman stood. A quick glance could have bamboozled the eye the difference. There was no great variation in height between the two stationary stances. Would not want to be the fool that pointed it out.

January was proving to be a discouragingly eventful month and they were only six days into it. The recovered Auror Badge, carefully sanctioned away in the top drawer of her desk was a reminder of the chaos that took place not four days before. Most of the Aurors that were present for the unconventional lockdown of the Ministry knew better or were too frightened to confront their boss about it; the others seemed to have been smartly discouraged against that course of action. Just yesterday, she had received the most bizarre letter from Adon Eleor and Jonas Trevelyan, not exactly bearing happy tidings either. And, as of today, she was thirty five years old. That just ruined any optimistic possibilities of the day for a pessimistic individual.

Scratching the back of her head with her other hand, Tamis Raynor gave the files another quick glance before straightening, feeling a small strain in the center of her back. Today was not the day, for the latter of those reasons, to admit to the troubles of aging. She blamed it on not stretching that morning. It was the second issue, among other reasons, that she finally decided to break the let-sleeping-dragons-lie tension between Auror and Eleor and herself, as the simple note she had placed on his desk cryptically acknowledged by way of date, a time, and her signature. She was expecting him in four minutes to be exact and with how the younger man had been avoiding her, she did not expect to see him a second sooner.

With the chaos and the holidays that had been plaguing the grossly understaffed Auror’s Office, it had been convenient to ignore the evasion the man had exhibited to the Head Auror upon his return. It was not pronounced or exaggerated. His reports were always waiting for her when she arrived on the morning that they were due. When he did have to talk to her he was concise, effective, and devoid of eye contact. And he was the picture perfect image of British Professionalism. From a managing standpoint, she should have been delighted. From a leadership standpoint she saw the inherent and very dangerous problem.

The Aurors required a certain amount of companionship. It was a careful balance between maintaining order and maintaining trust. The members of this department risked their lives every single day and if trust did not exist between them, if there was a lack in unity, it put their lives in greater jeopardy. Not having trust between commander and Auror was more dangerous still. If they could not work it out, there had to be a drastic change.

That, and though Raynor would not admit it, she was worried about the Israeli. Among everything else, an attack on his brother and Aberdeen Spencer memory and son-less? She was the last person he would want to discuss such things with and she was not going to make him try. That damage was done. But she did, with trouble looming ever present in the distance, need to know if they could work together.

Leaning back against the fireplace mantle behind her, she relished in the warm and comfort of the fire crackling merrily below. Reaching for the teacup sitting there, she saluted the air and silently cheered herself a happy birthday.

The note had been typical Raynor-style. Short. And without a point:

01/06/09
11:00 am
-- Tamis Raynor

Rumour had it that today was the Ray-dar's birthday. Adon had even braved Malone's increasingly scornful looks in order to duck out a moment to go to a nearby bakery to pick up a little something. Because it would give him something to say. Because he, really, had no idea what the point of meeting with Raynor might be. If he was in trouble, it would ingratiate himself to her. He hoped. If he was getting praise, it would confirm the good feelings. If it was a heart-to-heart like last time had supposedly been, he could throw it at her. Win-win-win.

He was a bit out of breath from trying to come back in time -- the line had been a bit longer than anticipated. He pulled out the pink box from its paper bag, crumpling the bag into a wad and tossing it into the bin beneath his desk as he shouldered on his crimson robes, pulled out some of his files in case he should need them, and shoved it all into his satchel.

He rapped on Raynor's open door with a knuckle before stepping in, venturing a somewhat hesitant smile. He lifted the flap of his bag and pulled out the pink box, handing it over. "I heard it was your birthday. I don't think this meeting was how you were planning on celebrating it, but just in case." He paused before adding, "They were out of most of the flavours."

He was a minute late. The teacup was half drained by the time the expected knock rapped quickly on the door and she had moved around to the side of her desk, scanning the various vials and artifacts on a shelf. The last time an Auror had been late to a meeting, he had come bearer of bad news. There was already enough of it surrounding Adon Eleor that she sincerely hoped that was not the case.

When he entered the longer-than-it-was-wide office, she abandoned the teacup on the shelf, turning to face him and crossing her arms. There was nothing (intentionally) threatening about the gesture, merely a habitual stance, as she appraised him. One of her eyebrows twitched as he, as if by means of explanation, withdrew a very small and very pink box from his satchel. It also seemed to be a month for mysterious packages.

Holding his gaze, she slowly extended a hand to accept the box, her other hand resting on top, poised to open it. He heard it was her birthday… she would like to identify the traitor. Twitching the lid open, she finally glanced down, breaking eye contact – and found herself looking at an equally pink… cupcake.

She was not sure if she should laugh or scowl.

Deeming neither appropriate, she said instead, as she carefully placed the box and its contents on her desk, “I tried to convince Radley to name the puppy ‘Adon’, but he did not want to create office confusion.” The barest hint of a smirk touched her lips, he was not entirely in trouble (yet), and the cheekiness and saved his close call on the timing.

Leaning against the side of the desk, she did not resume her seat behind it. It often came across as very patronizing, addressing someone from the width of a desk, like a snobby politician that believed that desk gave them authority and that sitting on one side of it was superior to the other. At times, that was advantageous. It was not what she was going for today. It was far too serious for that.

“How is your brother?” She asked, indirectly referring to the transgressions of the previous day. She had learned far more than she was sure that she wanted to, but knew that she had needed to, and not all of it from the man standing before her. It was a reminder that there was still an independent letter from Jonas stashed among the growing number of artifacts in the top drawer of her desk that she still had not managed to formulate a response to.

Not even a thanks, smile, or acknowledgement. Adon couldn't recollect what, exactly, he'd done to warrant the displeasure of Raynor, but he was sure he'd find out about it in some indirect way a month or two down the line. His eyes lingered on the paper bakery box. Waste of a pound thirty-five.

"I tried to convince Radley to name the puppy 'Adon', but he did not want to create office confusion.

Adon gave a kind of miserable smile in response to that. His boss got a real kick out of it. Which is why he'd brought the cupcake, but he'd hoped to bring that up on the course of the conversation. Despite not knowing Raynor's agenda--and he never did, really--he knew that "puppy" was on his list of issues to address. He could laugh, but it wasn't very funny. The thought of being the private little joke between Raynor and Arch when they were at home, sipping their coffee, catching up on their days, cracking jokes, made him feel sick to his stomach. It stung; it was unprofessional. What was more, it was hypocritical coming from the woman who urged him to have confidence, to -- how had she said it? "Never. Doubt. Your. Judgement." But one didn't set a fire beneath feet in the first minutes of conversation, so Adon broadened the smile, adding sincerely, "Big of him," and moved on.

"How is your brother?"

Adon mentally noted that sabotaging the conversation was entirely Tamis' fault this time, not his. He'd come with sweets and peace offerings. He gave a breath that stretched his chest and freed his throat. As he released the breath, he sighed. "Not well." Adon didn't even know if he was recovering. They'd gotten a concerned call from Dree's rabbi. Apparently Dree had been at temple when the rabbi had arrived very early that morning and would not be moved from his spot praying. No one knew how long he might have been there, or when he had intentions of leaving. The rabbi seemed disconcerted; the doors had been locked, he had thought, but somehow he'd managed to get in. Adon had a suspicion on how that might have been accomplished.

He looked at Raynor, pressing his lips together a moment as he thought. The question had been something of a peace offering, he supposed. "Thank you for asking," he said. "It's kind of you." Adon did not want to suspect it, but he did; he did not think Tamis was asking on Dreogan's behalf. Dreogan was now the victim of a case. She'd ask about how he did like she would anyone else. Still, it was more politic than asking if they had any leads. "I'll get more particulars from him--" he faltered a split-second. He'd not promise a timeline he would be unwilling to keep. He'd not drag information out of Dree like Alberic had done. "--once he is able. He won't make eye contact with anyone just yet. I'm not sure if he's spoken." Further, Adon realised, Dreogan was crucial to the Reid case, something they never spoke about here on Level Two or, indeed, on Ministry ground. "I don't anticipate him coming to work this week. Maybe next," he informed, "but it shouldn't hold things up," he said vaguely. Raynor had penetrating, x-ray eyes. She could see what he meant by that.

Another deep breath and cleansing sigh. "Was that--" he had almost said "it?" That would sound too hopeful by half. "--the reason you called me in?" Because, really, that brought up item #2 on Adon's list of "sabotaging conversation topics that needed to be brought up." Katsaros. The Death Dream, and why he was now willing to become a permanent member of London's Auror force. They were low on manpower, so he felt the odds good it would be accepted. Unless there was some policy in writ against taking on condemned-and-otherwise-doomed Aurors. And, Adon reminded himself, only if they were willing to consider his concerns.