outfit

Ellie drifted through the atrium, camera secured in the crook of her arm like an infant, and hidden beneath a cardigan. She knew she wouldn't get far with her arm candy, even with the haphazard disguise, but that was why Veronique was such a lovely friend; Eleanor bypassed the welcome desk and loitered casually near a fountain depicting Dobby the Free Elf. She had no plans to take photos inside the beehive that was the Ministry of Magic, but she was loathe to give up her baby.

Despite lunch being a stone's throw of the clock hands, the Gryffindor alum reached into her bag and fished out a raspberry lolly. She tilted her head in the marble elf's direction, squinting suspiciously at its ears, which had been charmed to twitch every so often, or her name wasn't Eleanor. The things the government spent money on. And in the middle of a direwolf crisis. But Ellie couldn't complain; the community's affliction had been her day at the bank. The Prophet and Ministry both had signed her fat cheques for her photos of one of said wolves pawing around Diagon in broad daylight. The other photos, the ones of a wanted criminal rescuing a befuddled damsel, had caused even more of a stir.

The sweet burrowed in one of the St. James girl's cheeks, making her look like a blonde chimpmunk as she meandered about, waiting for Veronique and playing it cool. She knew one of the security wizards was looking at her, so Ellie wiggled her fingers in greeting. Contrary to popular belief, the best way to shrug off suspicion was to purposely attract attention.

These damned elevators. She was perfectly capable of running late on her own, the last thing she needed was their help. She had lost track of time in the lab again - she suspected the ministry had placed some sort of charm on them to increase productivity. By the time she had taken off her blast-vest and change out of her tattered work robes, she was nearly five minutes late. She was wearing a simple black sweater and jeans and had her hair in its normal bun; her goggles sat forgotten at the top of her head.

At last, they had arrived on the Atrium. She came bustling out of the elevator and was relieved to see the crowd was rather small today. She was able to spot Eleanor after a few seconds of searching; finding Eleanor was never too hard, you just had to look for the most conspicuous person in the room. She waved from across the room and walked over to greet her with a hug.

“You look great El,” a strange warmth and sincerity was in her voice. “How have you been? I am sorry I am so late, I suspect one day I’ll be swallowed whole by the Department of Mysteries.” There was a beat. “Anyway, what shall we do, go out or eat in. I could give you a little tour if you promise to keep that under wraps” She nodded to the camera.

Eleanor popped the lolly from her mouth and turned to grin at Veronique. “You, too,” she noted. “The Department of Mysteries is doing you good...” Perhaps because it was so mysterious. Eleanor would have made a drab (or, rather, fidgety) Ministry nine-to-fiver, but her friend’s department seemed the sole exception to the rule of government slavery. Ellie would have traded half her mum’s house to be allowed to wade through the Department of Mysteries, in particular the famed Hall of Prophecies, which Harry Potter and his friends were rumored to have singlehandedly smashed to bits.

“Minus the wanting to you eat you,” she added, for clarification.

Still grinning cheekily, she shared her most Gryffindorishly loyal tone-- all drenched with faux innocence and puppyish pleading. “I wouldn’t dream of unwrapping that,” she vowed, Godric’s honor. As they moved past security, Ellie tossed the lone, sticky stick of her lollipop into the nearest bin.

For proof, she handed Veronique the bundle under her arm, eyes darting the security wizard as she came into step with his checkpoint. She might not have wanted to hand it off to a stranger, but she supposed she could let a friend hold it. “Collateral. Now where are all of these Dementor-kissed men you told me about?” Or co-workers. Minor details.