There was something inherently charming about the eponymous Indian Restaurant.  Maybe it was the fact that the somewhat-garish wall decorations had grown on him since November[1], or perhaps it was the fact that he had arrived with an invitation this time, which meant that the girl who greeted him at the door regarding him with slightly less suspicion as she showed him to a table.

Either way, once he sat down, he found that he was quite looking forward to the engagement.  It was early enough in the evening that any sort of dinner crowd had yet to appear, though the kitchen was bustling to prepare orders for a few takeout regulars who were stopping in on their way home from work.  Jonas had chosen the same corner booth as the last time, seating himself so that he was facing both the windows and the door.  It wasn't a perfect perspective, but it was good enough to keep an eye on the foot traffic moving by outside.  Even though there likely weren't many wizards in this part of London, it never paid to be too careful.

He had ducked out of the Ministry early enough to give himself time to settle.  Fifteen minutes and an order of appetizers later, and the ringing of the bells on the door announced another arriving customer, this time one that he recognized.  Jonas took his time looking up; he'd seen her approaching on the pavement outside, so he took his time as he finished chewing, moving with a practiced nonchalance as set his fork down on the table with a click.

"Nice of you to stop in on such short notice," he remarked cheerfully as he raised his gaze to meet hers.  He flashed the new arrival a quick smile, leaning back in the booth as he stretched his leg out under the table.  "Didn't tear you away from any important stories of the decade, did I?  You want to order something else for yourself, feel free," he offered generously, nodding to the plate in front of him.  "All I could remember was the samosas."

1.	The date of his last visit to The Indian Restaurant.

Very chilly out, but a nicer day that it had been.  Niobe had hear dreads wrapped up in a scarf, a pile of serpents spilling out over her icy gaze, a grimace against the cold wind.  Arriving at Indian Restaurant, shrugged past the beads that covered the doorway, her stony expression brightened.  Her whole body gave a shiver as the warmth and smells hit her and she moved quickly over to her booth, only to find her seat occupied by the tall red-headed wizard.

Niobe didn't routinely sit with her back to a window and didn't plan to start.  She paused meaningfully for a few long moments, looking with purpose at Jonas who didn't move an inch to budge up.  She forgot subtlety and instead sat down right next to him on the same side of the table.   She put her heels up on the bench on the other side of the table - fit to stay put.

"You're my breaking story today, Trevelyan, m'dear,"  she said, looking at him sideways.  "They'll bring tea."

Her prophecy was fulfilled momentarily when a pot and two cuts were delivered to their table, Indian Restaurant's standard hospitality at supper.  She dished herself up a cup, pouring another for Jonas, and went to work setting a place for her samosa and mint sauce.

"Haven't heard much of a peep from you since last fall, but I've heard some talk about you.  Anything you were planning on confessing?" 

Apparently personal boundaries weren't a problem for the Daily Prophet staff.  When it became clear that he wasn't going to budge, Thursby abandoned the battle and dropped onto the bench next to him.  Jonas managed to turn his laughter into a snort, making a fair approximation of coughing as he bemusedly gave way and conceded the space for her to sit.

The woman's arrival triggered an improvement in the already acceptable service.  Jonas thanked the girl who delivered the tea, picking up one of the two cups.  As Niobe spoke again, he blinked, pausing as he glanced sidelong at the woman.

"Confessing?" he asked, flashing her a quick smile.  "Didn't realize you were qualified to give absolution.  Must be the bit about journalism that they don't tell the laypeople.  Go on record; get your penance."

He lifted his cup of tea to take a sip, using the moment to consider the best response to her question.  The thought that anyone had been talking about him still made him feel slightly jumpy; he much preferred working well out of sight to being caught on the radar.  But with Ministry employment, complete anonymity was likely a thing of the past.  Lying to Niobe wouldn't do him any good when it came to winning her cooperation.  It was much safer to ascertain what she knew and then speak truthfully to that.

"Reckon what I've got to confess depends on what you've heard, anyhow," he said at last, favoring the writer with an amused look.  "Don't tell me that word's gotten out that I eat children or have been plotting to overthrow the Minister, Ms Thursby.  I'd been hoping to keep both of those under me hat."

"No no, nothing like that," Niobe said, mouth full of food.  She gestured at him with a fork, accusingly.  "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mister Fancy Badge.  You're back on the the Corps! Ha!"

It wasn't some triumphant bit of investigation that had taken some arduous route to ascertain.  It was a matter of public knowledge, even though it wasn't broadcast.  But it had come as quite the surprise.  "Ey, Thursby, here's that bit from Level Two.  You hear that Trevelyan's out of retirement?"  "You've got to be shitting me...!"  She'd jumped up and rushed about to confirm the rumor.  Silly little lion, that Jonas!

"I'm not angry," she said with a wink.  "Just disappointed.  I thought you knew better.  If you're here to wiggle out of our arrangement, it's going to take more than samosas and a sorry."

Despite her harsh words, she was really only playing with him.  She really wanted a good contact with Level Two, but she couldn't expect a miracle and if Jonas had turned scarlet, there wasn't much she could do about it.

The red-haired man listened bemusedly, arching an eyebrow at her as he set the teacup down. 

"Be a bit self-defeating, wouldn't that?" he asked mildly.  Flattery could only take a man so far, but it hadn't failed him yet with Thursby.  "The rest of the lot has been at this for years; I'd be a nutter to give up one of the better contacts I've got.  Besides," he added, giving her a sidelong look, "even Level Two have got to leak to the Prophet sometime, yeah?  If Raynor doesn't know about an arrangement, it can hardly hurt her."

In all reality, the things that Tamis Raynor didn't know about - which had reduced considerably in number when he'd agreed to join the Auror Corps, but seemed to be growing again - were much more likely to get him hurt if she ever found out about them.  But this conversation was hardly one of them.  It was a fine balance to walk - convincing the reporter that it was in her best interest to be useful, without giving away more than he had to on why they wanted the information released.

Jonas cleared his throat, picking up his own fork as he broke open another samosa.  "You up to speed on the Reid arrest?" he asked amicably, his tone so conversational that they could have been discussing the weather. 

Defying Tamis Raynor was not on Niobe's shortlist for holiday, beach-going fun, and she couldn't imagine that any of her loyal Aurors would be so openly... defiant.  Well, Trevelyan wasn't defiant, exactly.  He just still be working through that stray cat independence of his life on the outside.  She'd give that a couple more weeks before he was as scarlet on the inside as out.  She didn't give him too much confidence for that, but she was listening.  It was his neck on the line, now, not hers.  The real risk now was losing him as a contact entirely if Raynor's hammer ever came down.

She listened as she gulped down some hot tea and mopped up a puddle of mint sauce with some pastry and potato. 

"Yup," she answered, just as conversationally.  "Wiz on the inside at the DIMC, last January.  Paved the way for some Runespoor smuggling with some fancy paperwork all this time. Kind of hard to believe he didn't take anyone down with him.  Ministry mugs never go quietly, if you know what they mean.  They're shouting names and pointing fingers all the way to the holding cell." 

She raised her eyebrows in a voiceless laugh.  It was hilarious when the Ministry, like a runespoor, began biting at its own tail. 

Jonas nodded, his attention now more fixed on Thursby than on the remains of the samosa.  He kept a wary eye on the rest of the restaurant, on the waitress as she smiled and showed another couple to a seat.  One of the benefits of having meetings like this at a Muggle location was that one didn't have to worry quite so much if someone happened to be listening.  But if someone was listening, then there were probably quite a few problems that would suddenly make themselves apparent.

"Yeah, that's the nut of it," he agreed easily.  "Adon Eleor's been on the case - he's the transfer over from Israel.  But Reid hasn't talked."  That was, as Niobe had pointed out, surprising in itself.  They had Trevor Reid for aiding and abetting the smugglers, but it didn't seem like the diplomat had been involved beyond overlooking a few signatures.  If he'd been willing to give them a name, then Level Two might have even been willing to negotiate a plea bargain, but he was still claiming that he didn't know anything.

It was as if the trail stopped cold right at Reid.  The multi-headed serpent of the Runespoor smuggling trade was about to disappear into the mist once more, and they'd be left clawing at ghosts for the next ten years.  The thought of losing their only lead again, of having to let the investigation go cold again, frustrated Jonas to no end.  This wasn't what Tait Aldridge had died for.

But then, that very sense of having reached the end of the footpath was why they were going to see what they could startle up.

The Auror picked up his fork again, began to pick through the detritus left from the samosa.  "Although," he began in a nonchalant tone.  Thursby didn't have a notebook out, but he hoped that she'd remember every word.  "If you believe the bloke who turned Reid in, there might be a good reason for that.  Sounds like there was someone higher up at the Ministry who was benefitting from the trade.  That'd be one reason to keep your mouth shut, don't you think?" he asked Niobe conversationally.  "If the fellow above you has you scared senseless enough, Azkaban might sound preferable to letting 'im ring your neck."

Merlin's Reductus, she should have her quill out.  She relied on it too much sometimes, but it was a vital part of her process.  Having it out and scribbling allowed her to engage freely and organically in a coversation without having to worry about remembering facts or quoting accurately.  She could get home and pour over the conversation again - sometimes she even mouthed the words of the characters in the exchange, underlining and circling as she went.

And this was prime Verbatis material.  Stuff from Level Two so directly was as scarce as unicorns and she couldn't risk losing a single drop.  But hoarding droplets could risk stopping up the whole stream.  She pushed her plate away and settled back in the booth more comfortably, scanning the room when Jonas did.  He had his shoes on the right feet, he did, and that was worth something.  It wasn't fair to put an Auror snitch on the record - the implications of that could ruin his career if things went all down the drain, and totally destroy her groove forever.

She pursed her lips together and shook her head in private reservation.  It was damn good, but the words would have to live and die in the air between them, immortalized only in memory.

"Cui bono,[1]" she agreed, allured.  "But who've we got that so frightening...?" she wondered, staring off past Jonas's right ear as she flipped through the dossier of the Ministry officials she was familiar with.

"Murray-Harker's an angel, and it can't be Gertrudis...Dante Ward could be?" She shook her head.  "Could it be someone on the outside? Someone actually threatening.

1.	Who Benefits

"Could be someone who's nearly anywhere," Jonas agreed, trying to spear a pea with his fork.  It shot away across the small plate, so he herded it back and then tried again.  "There's plenty of blokes on the outside too, or it could be someone who was there fifteen years ago and is living high now.  But Mulogo claims he saw an internal memo that got sent on to Reid mentioning a money transfer that matches the right date."  The lie came perfectly fluidly as he finally captured the targeted vegetable, sinking the prong of the fork through it like a harpoon.  "It's enough to raise eyebrows, I'd think."

He finished off the rest of the samosa, setting the fork back down again as he looked to the reporter.  There was only one small lie in all of this; the rest was the truth, or as much of it as he could give her. 

The crux of their entire plan relied on Niobe Thursby buying in.  If this went off, she'd be as much at risk as he or Adon, perhaps even more so; he hadn't heard of any journalists getting into trouble in the wake of the Runespoor ring, but with the ever-increasing reporting, it was likely only a matter of time.  The more she knew, the more danger the witch would face, but Jonas hoped and suspected that that wouldn't be a deterrent.  There were at least one or two personality traits that most former Gryffindors kept in common.

"The other half of it is that the case from fifteen years ago has been reopened," he informed her quietly.  "Tait Aldridge's murder in 1994.  There've been a few links that have turned up, and it's enough to make us think that the bloke who has Reid scared out of his wits now was out and about back then.  Makes you wonder what Aldridge might've stumbled upon that got him killed, doesn't it?"

"Azize Mulogo..." Niobe echoed, calling to mind the young African diplomat serving in Trevor Reid's department.   She didn't know much about him, other that he and Runespoors came from the same continent and that his background was in trade and economics. 

"Hmm..."  She was mostly quiet as Jonas went on, confiding in her quite a bit more than any other Auror had.  She'd actually forgotten for a moment that she was talking to an Auror.  Openly.  About the speculative details of two high-priority cases.  Should she chalk it up to Jonas being different from the others?  Or was he just bold as brass since she gave him the privilege of being a hushed source, off the record.

She drummed her fingers on the table, for the moment happy to take this free lunch for what it was.  Something squeaky didn't seem quite right, but she couldn't nail it down to anything other than an Auror being chatty.

"I'll have to brush up on the Aldridge killing," she said, her mind working double-hard to keep things in order.  "Would be a nice clean finish if you lot were able to tie that up - I can see the headline already."

She grinned.  Niobe Thursby saw the world in headlines, with always her byline below. 

"I'll be speaking with Mulogo, naturally.  But you were counting on that - so who owes who a favor then?"

The red-haired man smiled crookedly.  "If you're willing to keep one witness's name out of it, I'll give you what I can on Aldridge," he replied.  "Might take a bit to pull it all together, and I'm not sure what we can let out yet, but he was a good sort.  Might be nice to do a retrospective."

Thursby's enthusiasm was contagious and her final question earned a grin, truly and earnestly.  Jonas shot the reporter an amused look as he signaled to the waitress for the cheque.

"True enough," he replied cheerfully.  "Since you're going so far out of your way for me; Merlin only knows you wouldn't write the story any other way."  She probably would, but the witch still had a point.  If he wanted to make certain that the story on Mulogo had the particular slant that they aspired for -- and if, in a few short days, he was going to ask her an even bigger favor by keeping Tamis Raynor's name out of the paper in relation to her fiance's murder -- then he owed her.  Fair was fair.

"Name it," he said simply, glancing at her.  "Within reason.  As long as I won't lose me head over whatever this favor ends up being, I'll see what I can do."

Niobe slid out of the booth and shrugged her coat back on.  She liked Jonas Trevelyan.  For whatever reason he wasn't like other Aurors.  He was tolerable.  Flexible.  Jovial.  And down for a little bit of intrigue. 

This whole situation was... odd.  Writing articles at the behest of law enforcement - writing articles at the behest of any party - had the potential for huge conflicts of interest.  And while no one had ever called the Daily Prophet impartial, Niobe Thursby liked to think she had just that reputation.  Madam was after the Truth, she was, and not fame or favors.  Odd.  But too tempting - too Grey Area - to turn away.

She shouldn't be snobbish should she? Turn her nose up at such a helpful tip?

"Why don't we just wait and see what turns up," Niobe said about the favor, driving a hard bargain. "I'll promise to be nice.  In the meantime, get me what I need on Aldridge.  And, I"ll have a chat with Mulogo."

She dropped a couple of muggle coins onto the table to go dutch on the samosas and tea.  "You're  a stand-up bloke, Trevelyan.  Disappointing to see you on the other side - you had so much potential."

Jonas laughed, flashing the woman an easy grin as he carefully slid down the bench and then levered himself back to his feet.  "Yeah, well, unfortunately the other side pays a bit better than working freelance," he replied, giving her a lopsided smile as he gathered his coat.  "I'll try not to let all the scarlet go to me head, but life's certainly a bit less frazzled when I don't have to fret over making rent every month."

'Seeing what turned up' left things a bit open ended, but considering the weight of what they were trying to accomplish, he was willing to live with the risk.  It was worth it to continue cultivating Thursby as a contact, besides.  Tamis might be exceptionally suspicious of the Daily Prophet and its reporters, but there was something to be said for a two-way flow of information.

"We'll see what turns up, then," he agreed good-naturedly, extending a handshake to Thursby.  "But if 'whatever turns up' is something that might put me neck on the line with Raynor, let's send word of it to me old office, yeah?  You might not get a right quick response, but I check it often enough, and that'll keep us all able to pay our rents."

Niobe shook his hand gladly and rolled her eyes without malice.  "Course, of course, Jonas - I'll keep you out of trouble with your Auntie and get you home before midnight.  Promise."

It wouldn't do to get Jonas in hot water with Raynor as that would ruin everything.  Favors beget favors beget favors and there was no use stopping that process with a request that breached their still-maturing trust.  She needed to keep some sort of control, make sure she wasn't giving up more than she was taking in, but there was no need to try and pin him to the wall.  He was an honest bloke despite his new red robes.

"Laters, Jonas," she said and maneuvered around a couple coming in as she was heading out.