Even when viewed through the ridiculously exhausting lens of life in the Auror Office, the previous week had been an exceptionally difficult one at the Ministry.  Tamis Raynor, who was currently serving not only as the Head Auror but also as Level Two's Department Head and thus managing twice her usual workload, had been attacked by a man who presently boasted the title of lead suspect in half the cases that the Office was currently investigating.  Archer Radley, who was probably the second most experienced figure in the Auror Office even if he still kept refusing the Senior Auror title, had disappeared to Scotland as well, leaving no obvious individual to take charge.

Charlene still wasn't certain how 'near-death hexing' had translated into 'stuck in a Muggle hospital,' but she was certain that somewhere along the line, there was a vital piece of information that would cause the entire scenario to make sense.  Either way, Raynor's absence was immediately noticeable.    The first two days without the Head Auror had been awful, and until word had finally come down as to whom Raynor was appointing to take her position in her absence, the department had been floundering like a Runespoor with all of its heads cut off.  Paperwork had accumulated into mountains, lingering decisions had inspired shouting matches and tearful breakdowns, and it quickly became clear that whatever enormous respect her employees already held for their leader, she deserved at least a hundred times that for the way that things normally kept on smoothly running.

But even with a new designated 'leader' (she preferred to think of the new Head Auror Pro-Tem as a 'placeholder' and 'figurehead' rather than a 'leader,' since she was doing most of the actual paperwork anyhow), the previous week had been nothing but a disaster.  As Charlene returned to the office from her Monday lunch break, she eyed a piece of navy blue crepe paper still hanging from the ceiling near the doorway as if it were the source of all of her miseries.   It was surely a hold-over from the Head Auror Pro-Tem's 'Quidditch Party Friday' the week before, but she was determined not to even acknowledge that the event had happened. 

The only reason the past few days had been bearable was because Charlene had made a habit of heading straight to her desk upon arrival and not leaving it until 'His Majesty' had departed for the day.  She had gotten quite good at it; when she'd left on her lunch break earlier, she had managed to make it out of the office without even giving more than a bitter cursory glance to the door leading to the Head Auror's office.

But now, a completely unusual sight made her stop short.  Most of the Auror trainees seemed to have arranged themselves in a ragged queue outside their new boss's door.  Nervousness permeated the air.  One of them, whom Charlene recognized as Hawkins (who technically wasn't a trainee anymore, but seemed to have given himself a self-demotion after the disastrous events of January 2nd), was wringing his hands together, glancing anxiously at the firmly shut door as if it were about to open and start spewing Dementors into the middle of the office.

Something was clearly afoot.  Raising her eyebrows, Charlene nonchalantly adjusted her course and walked over.

"Is there a reason why you're all intent on standing about here instead of getting your work done?" she asked evenly, crossing her arms.

They all jumped, and then attempted to speak at once.

"We were -"

"He said -!"

"We're supposed to -"

Charlene held up a hand, quieting them instantly.  Inspiring silence in a group of trainees was one of the first tricks that a full Auror learned, and in the past few years, she'd gotten exceptionally good at it.  "You," she said, pointing to Hawkins.  "Tell me.  What exactly is going on?"

The trainee/not-trainee gulped.  "He, ah, he called us together for an interview," he said hurriedly, looking like he wanted to Vanish into the floor.  "Something about wanting only the best.  Only we don't know exactly why yet, he won't let the ones who've left tell us, and the only thing we've heard is something about a practical -"

Charlene's nostrils flared.  Recognizing the signs, Hawkins stammered himself into silence.

Not being in charge, she could handle.  Quidditch Fridays, she could handle.  Even doing all of Level Two's paperwork on top of her already ridiculous workload was something that she was willing to accept - when the inevitable happened and Raynor finally was appointed as the Department Head for Magical Law Enforcement, she would be the only Auror with experience running the office.  Even in spite of this ridiculousness, it took a lot for Charlene Malone to raise her voice.  In her entire time at the Ministry, the only instances that had ever caused her to lose her temper was when she was on the wrong side of a completely inappropriate joke.  She could even stomach working with Dean Bailey without exploding.

But this?  It was too much.

"Go back to your desks!" she snarled, not caring if the words carried into the Head Auror's office or all the way to bloody Scotland. 

The trainees all stared at her, dumbfounded, until the blonde girl standing next to Hawkins meekly raised her hand.  "Err, Auror Malone?" she asked cautiously, looking as if she would rather crawl into a corner and hide.  "Most of us don't have a desk yet.  And His Majesty said..."

Charlene wished there was a way to strangle someone without looking like she had immediately lost her mind.  "I don't care what he said!" she snapped.  "And stop calling him that.  It's Head Auror Pro-Tem," she added, emphasizing the latter clause.  "Go find a desk.  Look productive.  Do something.  I'll deal with this."

Eyes flashing, she strode purposely forward, flung open the door, and stomped into the Head Auror's office.

"Out," she snapped at the lone trainee who was sitting inside, obviously in the middle of a nervous response to some or the other nonsense interview question.  The young man jumped up from the chair, looking terrified, but Charlene instantly ignored him, turning her attention instead to the figure sitting behind the desk.

"Pratt, do you want to tell me why there's a queue of Auror Trainees standing outside Raynor's office waiting to be interviewed?" she asked icily, putting her hands on her hips.  "Or shall I owl her and inquire if this is supposed to be normal procedure while she's away?"

“Now,” Head Auror Pro-Tem Pratt continued, leaning forwards against the oversized desk in front of him. “while ye may look at this as a mundane task, ye’ll find that without receiving the correct refreshments, the members of this department are unable to function to the best of their abilities and therefore the department fails to operate to the highest standard.”

The last week had been a stressful one. A stressful tiring one. Tamis Raynor, the stunted dragon had been attacked and was currently recovering in a muggle hospital being treated by muggles. While Ed would have liked to see the looks on her face when she was told different things about her condition by said muggles, he was too busy up to his eyeballs taking over that he didn’t have time to think of such ideas.

He’d been asked (practically begged according to him) last week to take the slack. Be Raynor’s man in the office to keep everyone and everything in check. Patrol the troops so to say. Why she had picked him out of all the wand in the ass, tightly wound aurors around was beyond him. Nonetheless, he was very relieved with the decision. The auror office couldn’t do with inflating the heads of the likes of Ackerley Fox or Samuel Harcroft any more than they already were. Ed was under the illusion that exploded heads were very difficult to clean up, even with magic. But, it was a daunting task to take over, if only for a few weeks.

Upon his takeover, the office had been lost, a mess, a hippogriff missing its hind legs, a dragon with an inability to breathe fire, a cheese sandwich with no pickle. Ed had work to do. After rallying his troops into order and informing them of the new situation, he’d sat down at his boss’s desk to be faced with a nightmarish pile of parchments. Nigh on thirty inches high! One had to call in reinforcements if the job were to be completed in an adequate timeframe. Who else would have been his first choice but Frizzy Malone herself? He was starting to find a soft spot for the cuddly cushion of hair now. Oh, and the person under it. A bit.

A little bit.

A tiny bit.

Well he appreciated her at the moment. The mountain of paperwork needed to be completed by someone. He was already neglecting a heavily pregnant wife to get this work done and he needed help. Malone had been good in providing that. They’d stayed late every night last week completing files and well, being good hard working little aurors.

Ed was brought out of his explanation of the newly created position as the door to his (Raynor’s) office was flung open to reveal Frizzy herself in all her furious glory. It was true that if he didn’t love that constipated, irate expression so much, Ed would have been shrivelling into his chair, begging it to swallow him. As it was, he took a sip from his coffee and tried his damndest to keep a straight face.

“Ye’re a little overqualified for the posi-” Pratt was interrupted by his partner’s threat and blatant disregard for his new position. He frowned and placed the coffee cup down, reaching for a piece of parchment and a quill. This was going to be fun.

“Shall I put ye on disciplinary fer talkin’ to a superior like that, Auror Malone?” He asked seriously, dipping the tip of the quill into some ink and beginning to scribble in his new, slightly more legible hand writing. “If ye’re discontented with the new layout of the department ye can put it in writin’ to our department head. Although I would ill advise it. The stress may set her recovery back tenfold. Ye don’t want that on yer conscience, do you auror.” The blonde man looked up from the parchment, raising his eyebrows to only solidify his stern expression.

There was nothing, nothing, funny about this moment.  Times were desperate, and with Raynor gone, it was necessary that the Auror Office take some desperate measures.  Charlene knew that, at least with head if not in her heart.  Stomaching the thought that the northern-born Auror would be made Head Pro-Tem over her was difficult to do, but she could, at least, reasonably accept it as a legitimate choice.  Pratt had served in the office for longer and was more experienced.  In a situation like this, where there probably weren't any protocols listed for how to pass the wand, it made sense for him to be selected over her.  That was why she'd been willing to stay late the week before, pitching in with paperwork and helping him puzzle through the mess that Level Two had become in Raynor's absence.

But little things bothered her.  Why Pratt, and not Harcroft or Ackerly?  Granted, she certainly could see how Fox rubbed some of their co-workers the wrong way even though she held so much respect for the man, and she was loathe to admit that she might actually prefer her partner over the other Senior Auror.  Still, the fact that neither men with so much more experience had been granted the temporary promotion discounted using experience as the excuse to explain why she hadn't gotten it.  Even if Charlene had come to grudgingly respect him over the past few months, he was a known goof who spent as much time thinking up pranks as he did working.

What had Raynor been thinking?

Now was a perfect example.  Charlene glared at the man, crossing her arms as she advanced towards him.  She didn't care if the door was open, nor if the entire office heard.  He was acting ridiculous and abusing his (temporary) authority, and she was through putting up with it.

"Temporary superior," she hissed at him.  The Auror trainee who had been sitting in the chair rose to stand, then paused halfway, looking terrified at being caught in the crossfire if the spells started flying.  The youth sank back into the chair, looking as though he were trying to squash himself flat to get out of the way.  "And she gave you the position so that you could keep the office running, Pratt!  Not so that you could...could..."

She gestured angrily back out at the office, then at the trainee who was hunched in the chair.  The young man gulped, then apparently decided it was safer to make a break for the door after all.

"What are you even doing?" Charlene demanded, infuriated.  She didn't even bother to try and keep her voice down.  This was ridiculous.  "You can't just create a new position and start interviewing for it!  It's not going to be in the budget!"

From childhood Eddie had seen that look in women. That evil scowling ‘you’ve stolen my chocolate frog and now I want to eat your head instead’ look. He knew it well. He knew the stages off by heart.
First the eyebrows furrowed, exaggerating the wrinkles set between the eyes of the demon female. The wrinkles were there to provide something to look at when the second stage occurred.
The eyes took on a darkness that one poor male stood alone could not comprehend. The darkness revealed the fury within.
The lips were held so tightly together they turned white, the colour Eddie’s face had drained the first time he’d seen this look.

Every woman on earth could recreate this expression and every woman in the world knew it worked. No man with visual capabilities could ignore such vehemence behind the eyes of a female. Pratt was certain that even a man visual impaired could simply sense the look. Feel the fury radiating from those suddenly black eyes.

The frizzy haired woman began to advance. One step at a time, demon eyes locked on Eddie’s bright green ones. Had he dared to comment on her hair resembling her anger, Eddie had no doubt she’d have relieved him of a functioning head. He leaned back in the chair, willing it to suck him up and spit him out on some Caribbean beach. It was better than being stuck in a room with a woman that looked happy enough to suck his brains out and eat them with potatoes and gravy.

"What are you even doing?"

Pratt watched the young lad dart from the room, wishing her could do the same. He’d have to cross that lad off his list of possibilities. Now he was alone with Frizzy. Him and Frizzy and her anger. She continued and instead of wishing to hide for much longer, Eddie started to get angry. He was damn well trying with this responsibility and she jumped in there, throwing her weight, her scary anger and her frizzy hair around and he was supposed to cower? No way.

“Ye don’t think I know that, woman?” The man finally responded, trying to keep his voice level but hearing it rise in volume despite himself. “We were understaffed before Raynor was attacked and now we’re screwed. Ye can stand as tall as ye like on yer soapbox, Frizzy, but that cardboard’s gonna cave in soon and yer gonna have a nasty fall.”

“I’m tryin’ to sort out what’s been left and all ye can do is judge and criticise.” He scowled across the desk at the auror stood up and grit his teeth. “Sit down.”

Charlene's nostrils flared again as he called her 'woman.'  From anyone else, the nickname would have warranted an automatic snap and a pointed request to call her by her proper name, but she had put up with quite a lot of demeaning monikers from her partner over the past few months.  Woman, Frizzy, and whatever else he might dream up.  Correcting him on it had never seemed worth it, because Charlene had no doubt that admitting that it bothered her would just increase the frequency of use, but here and today, it was too much.

The Auror was prepared to open her mouth and snap again, but then his other words registered.  The problem with Pratt was that, underneath his juvenile actions and his devil-may-care attitude, he was much sharper than he came across.  His instincts with Gibson had been dead on from the beginning.  Right here, right now, he was dead on as well.  The entire MLE department had been running severely understaffed ever since Robards' death, when Raynor had had to step into both roles and the Aurors had had to take on what they could in terms of casework.  Now with Raynor gone, 'screwed' was probably an understatement. 

None of this altered Charlene's glare, but she pressed her mouth tightly shut into a thin line, her hands clenching.  Slowly, still looking furious, she stepped over and lowered herself into the chair, clenching at the wood of the arm rests so hard that they threatened to be permanently damaged.

Taking a seat might be a concession that this could be a discussion instead of an angry reprimand, but it didn't change what she thought of his behavior.  She glared at him, meeting his gaze squarely from across the desk.

"I am not just judging and criticizing," she informed him tightly, a defensive edge in her voice.  "I've been working just as hard as you have, Pratt.  But I don't see how Quidditch Fridays or wasting all of the trainees' time by having them stand in a queue outside your office helps anything!" she added, gesturing back towards the door.  "This isn't how Raynor runs things!"

“The guv’ told me to keep this department running, Malone, not turn into a male version of her.” Edward pointed out sternly as he now leaned forwards against the desk, resting his elbows on it. He didn’t need to copy every move Raynor made. As long as this office was still going strong and hadn’t caved in by the time the prodigal boss returned, he would have done his job. Eddie wasn’t his boss. He made no effort to be so. He just wanted to be able to do his duty. And at the moment this frizzy haired hag was getting in his way.

Pratt and Frizzy had an interesting partnership. Frizzy expected Pratt to mess up, she expected him to work the least amount possible and she expected him to take everything as a joke. Ed didn’t care. He expected Frizzy to moan about his handwriting, to moan about his time keeping, to moan about his general style of work. She was a woman. Women moaned.
All.
the.
time.
He was used to that. Most often, Eddie enjoyed watching the woman moan and whine, criticising everything to the way he breathed. He’d play up to it. But right now? He wasn’t so keen. She could know the real reason he’d had a line of aurors in training stood outside the office door of he could make one up. Ed frowned and took a large gulp of steadily cooling coffee.

“The trainees are mainly used for one thing in this office, Frizzy.” The temporary head auror pointed to his coffee cup before glancing back at his angry partner. “Coffee makin’.” Each auror tended to have selected their individual trainee to rely on for such duties. Coffee was a necessity in an office full of overworked and tired men (and women). Men that usually didn’t have time to stand and watch a pot of coffee brew.

“For some of our trainees, it’s the best thing they’re doin’ out of everythin’. I always believe in allowing someone to focus on and improve their best skills.” He let that settle in the air before continuing. For Eddie, he preferred not being congratulated on good ideas and hard work. It was too much. Therefore, he would tell Malone his plan in the least convenient way possible. She could get all angry and moany then he could prove her wrong. That was always fun.

Charlene allowed her angry expression to fade slightly as she took in her partner's words.  She certainly didn't expect the man to turn into a 'male version' of Tamis Raynor; for that, he'd have to shrink a foot and a half and be able to out-stare a dragon.  And if she were being fair, if someone had told her a week ago that Edward Pratt would be running the Auror Office while Raynor was unreachable, she would have braced herself for much worse than Quidditch Fridays and encouraging the trainees to refer to him as 'His Majesty.'

Unfortunately for her crusade, his other words made sense.  The whole situation with the trainees was one that had irked her for years, ever since she'd first joined the Auror Office.  Charlene agreed wholeheartedly that they were underutilized.  Many of them were young and inexperienced, certainly, but there were so many better things to do with their time than have them run errands or stand around making coffee.  Some, like Chris Colburn, had already shown a knack for investigative work.  The longer they were kept out of the field, the slower they'd learn and be ready for full duty, and the more would fall on the shoulders of the already-commissioned Aurors.

If it had been up to Charlene, the trainees would have immediately been integrated into the office and put to work, with their lessons coming at scheduled times along the way.  And, she had to admit, if this was how Eddie planned to rectify the current overworked state of the Auror office, it had the trappings of being a brilliant idea.  Not every trainee was ready for the responsibilities and pressures of being a full-blown Auror - Hawkins was evident of that, of course - but some had to be.  If they could identify those, or even just identify areas in which each trainee could manage for now, maybe they could get through this after all.

Of course, that meant that Pratt was proposing a full reorganization of the Auror office while Raynor was away.  But if it worked, it worked.  Charlene was reluctantly beginning to buy in.

She pursed her lips, regarding him warily.  "So you're interviewing each of them to find out what their best skills are?"  Put like that, having every trainee in the office lined up outside his door didn't sound nearly as crazy as it had looked at first glance.  It almost made her feel like she ought to apologize.

“Exactly.” The temporary head auror grinned across the desk at his frizzy haired annoying partner. She was catching up a little faster than Eddie had hoped. Most people would have been happy with such a progression. Edward? No. He has wanted to see her slightly more irritated. Unfortunately, she was ever such a little smarter than her frizzy hair implied. Eddie nodded and lifted his coffee cup back to his lips to take a long sip. Before the liquid flowed past his lips, the auror’s bright eyes locked on Malone’s.

“I mean, some people just aren’t cut out to make the coffee.” Ed finally took a sip of the bitter liquid and smirked. Whoever had made this mug was definitely cut out for the job. In fact, they should become a barista in some cafe on diagon alley. This was very good coffee. As a man that lived off it, the caffeine tended to have far less of a kick nowadays but this one, he could feel it. Excellent work. The lad would definitely be congratulated. Ed just had to remember his name...

The coffee mug was placed back down on the table and Eddie’s eyes once more fell on his partners’. “with our lack of fully trained staff in this department we haven’t got enough actually doing their real jobs. I personally don’t like the idea of the majority of the auror in this department chained to their desks half the time and runnin’ around ragged to make up for our shortfall the other half.”

Glancing at the door, Ed frowned before looking at Malone pointedly. “I were tryin’ to see which trainees I could send out with the aurors to lighten their load. Not that I should have to explain that to you, Frizzy. Ye’ve just undermined me in front of every damn one of them.”

"I didn't -" Charlene started to bristle, drawing herself up, as she aimed a glare at Eddie.  But it only took a moment for his words to sink in.  She obviously had.  In retrospect, stomping onto Level Two, yelling at all of the Auror trainees, and then storming into his office (even if it was only his office pro-tem) probably wasn't the best way to show support for her partner.  Even if she did have reason to think the worst of him.

"All right," she said after a beat.  The words tasted sour in her mouth, but she forced them out.  "I apologize, Pratt.  But there are probably better ways to go about this," she added, trying to sound as though she weren't gritting her teeth.  "It's a perfectly good idea, but you might want to explain yourself first.  It would certainly keep the rest of us from jumping to conclusions as to what your motives are," she added, quite aware that she sounded more than a bit petty as she snipped the last sentence out.

That was part of the problem she had with her partner.  Charlene had reluctantly admitted to herself that despite his casual exterior and in spite of his unorthodox ideas, Eddie Pratt was a surprisingly effective Auror.  His instincts on the Gibson case had been dead on, and even now, he was racing ahead with an idea that she wished she had thought of.  But he never seemed to be willing to do things the right way.  Whether it came about by rushing through paperwork or not getting his coworkers' input on potential changes, Pratt took every short cut he could. 

"You know," she began slowly, mind racing as she tried to figure out how best to extend the olive branch.  "What if we made a committee out of it?  Fox isn't a bad judge of character, and I'm sure there's one or two others that would be happy to assist as well, even if it meant one or two more long days of interviews in the process.  We could come up with a system and rank everyone's skills, and then assign them out once we've analyzed everything.  It might be a bit more effective than you just doing it on your own, Pratt."

“If ye want to think the worst of me, Frizz, that’s your prerogative.” The temporary head auror responded to his partner, feeling the need to point this out. He liked being the auror that didn’t seem the most professional. He liked seeming to not care, taking it easy. It always meant Eddie could surprise people. They rarely knew what to expect from him and that, he believed was an excellent thing. Frizzy Malone thought he was lazy, didn’t care and did the least amount of work possible. Maybe he did, maybe he liked this because it meant she did more work for him or maybe he just let her think whatever she wanted. It didn’t bother Eddie. Besides, he liked seeing her angry and frustrated. It suited her and that distracting hair.

A committee?! Edward didn’t realise he was somewhat scowling across the large desk at his partner. His lips twitched ever so slightly at the mention of Fox and his not being a ‘bad judge of character’. The man himself wasn’t a great character. He’d have all the aurors in training sat by his desk reciting section 10 of the ministry rules and regulations for law enforcement techniques. Ed didn’t even know half of those rules! And if he did, he didn’t pay them great mind.

He had to think of a way to get out of working with Fox. Speaking to the senior auror was like handing yourself over to the school grass who was going to tell the professors everything from the time you didn’t brush your teeth to the wedgie you gave the school grass that very morning. And he’d have a lot to explain to Tamis if the trainees told Fox about the ‘coffee making practical’ involved in these interviews.

“The point of this idea is to free up time for our colleagues to be able to do their job properly, not take up more of their time.” The temporary head of the department spoke briskly, pulling a piece of parchment to him and glancing down at it. “Fox is about as good with our trainees as a slug is at wrestling a lion.” That conjured a fun image.

“The guv’ put me in charge, Frizzy. We need a leader not a committee. Save that for the mother’s club at my local community centre sittin’ around eatin’ tea and cakes.” The edges of the man’s lips twitched up into a smirk as his emerald eyes settled on Malone. “Talkin’ of cakes...”

She had just been beginning to think positively of Edward Pratt.  Just been about to consider that, very possibly, there was more to the man than practical jokes  and Quidditch Fridays.  Despite their differing styles and often clashing personalities, Charlene had begun to accept that the man was a damned good Auror.  He might make time for his family, but when the wands came out, Pratt was there all the way.  He worked hard.  He was smarter than she wanted to admit.  And Raynor had, obviously, trusted him somewhat or she wouldn't have left him in charge (unless Charlene's more unlikely suspicious were true and their boss really had been knocked out of her senses by the Tawse attack).

There were times when she began to allow that Pratt was good at his job.  But like spellwork, every time that she even began to consider the possibility, the man did something to sweep the magic carpet right out from underneath her and replace it with a Cleansweep 7.

It was impossible to miss the scowl on her partner's face.  Charlene couldn't understand the animosity that most of the Aurors in the office seemed to feel towards Ackerly Fox. Fox, like Pratt, was a bit unortho-  well, probably the opposite of unorthodox, but in a completely unorthodox way compared to most of the other rule-benders who frequented the Corps.  But he, like Pratt, was also good at his job.  He got results.  And he always achieved them while behaving in a perfectly professional manner.

"No, the point of this idea is to do it right," she countered, her eyes narrowing.  Was Pratt really going to try and leave Fox on the outside of all this?  "And he's not that bad with trainees.  Not like Bailey.  Fox trained me, after all," she informed her partner in a chilly tone.

This whole 'leader-not-a-committee' bit was beginning to sound suspiciously like an excuse for another Quidditch Friday.  Charlene eyed the man, all traces of good will or compromising spirit dropped.  Just because Pratt had good ideas didn't mean he was the right person to carry them out.  If he wasn't willing to work as part of the team, then there was no way that he could effectively lead it.

"What about cakes?" she asked icily.

Before he could stop them, Ed’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Ackerley Fox training his partner being an example of his good trainee handling proficiency.
“Exactly,” The auror responded, sitting back in the large leather chair and folding his arms in defiance. He was not letting Fox get involved with his idea. The arrogant, rule humping flobberworm would take over because he was a ‘senior auror’ and just plain irritating and moody. Sometimes as bad as Bailey (but that was Radley’s big dislike). Oh course, it probably sounded like the temporary head auror was being petulant, in reality, he probably was being petulant. He just didn’t like Fox. “He handles trainees as well as me missus handles an oven.” And he damn well hoped Malone didn’t mention that to Mrs Pratt should she ever meet her. But hey, that one could be taken both ways.

She was giving him ‘the look’. Auror Pratt didn’t like ‘the look’. It reminded him of when he was at home with a disapproving wife because he’d left his muddy boots on the bedroom carpet. Malone didn’t look a thing like Eddie’s wife and yet she could mimic that exact expression. It was quite terrifying if Ed were to be perfectly honest. She would make a scary life-partner for some poor unsuspecting woman.

"What about cakes?"

Ed’s expression dropped and he stared across the desk at his partner with a critical frown. “It were a hint, luv’.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, fingers creating more of an unruly mess throughout the locks of short blonde hair. “Never mind.”

A moment’s pause and the auror leaned forwards, resting elbows on the desk, green eyes focused upon Malone’s. “Ye’re my partner, Frizzy.” The thick northern brogue softened as the man’s voice decreased in volume. He didn’t need the rest of the office outside of that door hearing what he had to say. And he damn well wouldn’t say it again. “Ye’re the one whose decision I trust, Merlin’s balls know why.” The image now presenting itself at the forefront of the wizard’s mind made him screw his face up in disgust and shake his head.

“Point is I’d rather work this between ourselves. Bring more people in to decide and Fox’ll pick with the trainee with obsessive compulsive disorder, Eleor’ll grab the one with the huge rack and Bailey’s gonna go ginger with ginger.” He muttered. “I’d rather the two of us make a good decision about who’s got the ability to go into the field with whom.”

Edward Pratt, Charlene was quickly beginning to learn, could make anything sound reasonable.  Moving (temporarily) into Raynor's office.  Quidditch Fridays.  Making all of the trainees queue up outside his door.  Even now, it was if he was speaking the right words: they were partners, he trusted her judgement, and that was why there wasn't any need to include anyone else in the office.

But even so, this time something about the words felt wrong.  Her eyebrows rose higher as she listened to him speak, regarding him with a growing sense of unease.  Ackerly Fox, she knew, would never pick the most obsessive compulsive trainee; he'd select the one with the skillset closest to his needs.  Even Eleor, whom she didn't like, would probably not choose the one that he thought was most attractive.  Wasn't he dating that Muggle?  Even considering how absent he usually was, no one could miss the tension between him and Auror Roh.

"Yes, because we're the only ones in the office whose judgement we can trust," she said disbelievingly, an edge sliding into her voice.  "What, you're not afraid that I'd choose the blond one that looks the most like you?"

Letting out a quick breath, Charlene pushed herself to her feet, giving the man in the Head Auror's chair a dark look.  "Believe it or not, Pratt," she informed the man icily, "but you're not doing this alone.  The rest of us are picking up the slack as well as you.  And if you still don't respect the others in this office well enough to include them in something like this, then I don't want any part in it either.  I'll do your paperwork and I'll keep things running, but I'm not going to be your automatic quill.  You can explain to Raynor why you didn't include anyone else in these decisions."