Stood outside Rosier’s door, Eddie frowned. The rage that had radiated within Ed’s very body last time he had been here had sizzled to an irritation. A helpless irritation. 7 days with no job had been miserable. The romanticism of avenging his parents single handed had dwindled as soon as the auror had step foot outside of the office and the lingering feelings of regret had multiplied and started to rack at his very senses. He didn’t even want to think of what Quincy or the kids probably thought of him. Daddy, their hero had quit his job. He had given up and been a practically shit role model to two very impressionable children. And the younger ones, they would just suffer from the financial loss of Eddie’s failure.

But Edward Pratt was an auror. He had been fighting the bad guys with red robes proudly hanging from his shoulders and a golden badge permanently on his person for over a decade. Eddie loved his job and he was not going to let a threatening hairy bastard or a pompous twat in elf made robes and aftershave made from fairy dust and vela piss. And the rather rude, blunt letter had been Ed’s chance at grasping it back.

He hadn’t even dared to contemplate the views about the resignation or return from his colleagues. Ed was a proud man and he had always been dead against giving up. He had gone against his own words.  He had given Trevelyan a hard time about desertion and he had done the same thing when left in an uncompromising position.

Still, he was here ready to face the pompous boss and soon the no doubt disapproving co-workers. A hand dipped into the vast pocket of his black robes and out he fished a pocket watch. His thumb pressed the top button and the device pinged open. 10:14.  It was the morning. It was Rosier’s fault he hadn’t specified when in the morning.

With a sigh Ed once more ignored the polite respectful knocking system most adhered to and twisted the doorknob before stepping into the room.

“T’guv keeps her door open unless she’s in a private meetin’. Makes her more approachable, see. Less like a pompous twat lordin’ it over everyone.” The ex-auror spoke gruffly before pushing the door shut behind him. This was a private meeting.

Pratt will show up, Rosier was certain of it. He knew that deep down he wanted his badge back, but was too proud to ask for it. Edward Pratt was quite lucky actually – not every boss would be so lenient and so tolerant of such obnoxious behaviour. His little charade with resigning gave Rosier not only a severe headache, but some problems with the press as well. He hated how quickly those reporters got their hands on Ministry gossip. Thankfully, Rosier tactically denied any official Auror resignations…which was true, Pratt was still officially employed by the Ministry.

He rescheduled an early morning inter-departmental meeting just because of Pratt, but the angry blonde man failed to show up in time. Annoyed, Rosier thought he should have known this was bound to happen. In the letter, he told him ‘first thing in the morning’ – now he realized that was quite a broad phrase for an unemployed man who probably gets out of bed around noon. With a small frown on his face, he decided to put some order around his desk – something that was slowly becoming almost a daily ritual. He also re-organized the old books that were scattered around the office and put them in neat stacks. It was amazing how the gloomy, but pompous office suddenly looked presentable (this was something that amazed Rosier every time he cleaned up the mess).

Sitting back at his desk, he started writing the usual letters which needed to be sent before the lunch break. Something to pass his time, and something to keep his mind from being annoyed at Pratt’s ignorance and lateness. He had his badge right here, it was still where the Auror left it, waiting for him to pick it up. All he needed was to ask…Rosier wasn’t even expecting an apology or any trace of respect. It would be too much to hope for anyway.

Suddenly the office door flew open. Without even looking, Rosier knew it was Pratt. Other people knew how to knock…well most of them. “Morning Pratt,” he said, finally lifting his gaze up to the man. He looked odd wearing black robes.

“Well, maybe I prefer solitude,” he replied, ignoring his rude tone of voice and the lack of a greeting.  “But something tells me you didn’t come here to discuss the differences between Raynor and me. I’m all ears, Pratt.”

“No.” Ed responded bluntly as the door clicked into place and he stepped further into the office. “I didn’t.” The fact that Rosier left the conversation open to Ed as if it was his choice to grace his superior’s presence mildly irritated the blond wizard. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to take his badge, get out and get back to work, avoiding any dealings with the pompous twat who spoke so calmly; as if dictating the ingredients for a piles relieving draught.

For the moment, Eddie decided to ignore the man behind the desk. Instead his legs slowly travelled towards a bookcase where he reached out and disinterestedly pulled a book from between ‘Polygamy and me’ and  ‘Presentation: A perfectionist’s guide to robe design’. Eyes scanned over the title and his eyebrows rose before he replaced ‘Praise and punishment for your house elf’.

Taking his time, Eddie crossed the bare expanse of pointless office space before he reached the desk and the chair in front of it. Last time he’d been in the mini palace Rosier had offered him to sit down, practically ordered him to. Ed had refused and continued in his berating of the departmental head. This time, without the offer to take a seat, Eddie casually lowered himself into it and relaxed back, lifting his right leg to rest the ankle on the opposing knee.

“No,” Eddie once more said as his eyes travelled from the pompous, paperwork humping fool to the desk. They fell on the badge still in place before snapping back up to Rosier. “You ordered me here. I’m all ears, Rosier.”

Rosier watched his colleague stroll around his office casually, without saying a word. He only arched an eyebrow when Pratt started taking books out from the shelf. Why would Pratt be interested in his old, dusty legal books no one ever touched? Crossing his arms, Rosier could only wait for him to snap out of it and leave his bookshelf alone. When the man finally strolled back (as if nothing happened) and sat down, Rosier smiled faintly. It was a bitter sort of smile, not warm or inviting at all.

He expected a smart retort and he got one. Sighing, he decided he has two options; just give the badge back and tell Pratt to go do his work or slowly torture him. He totally deserved the latter, however Rosier knew this wasn’t a wise approach. But maybe if they have a chat, instead of avoiding the issue, something good might eventually come out of it. But no…Pratt won’t get out of this so easily, it just wouldn’t be fair. Rosier needed to set some sort of an example out of this - it wouldn't look good if an Auror can just storm out and not show up for work in a week and then just stroll back in as if nothing happened. A pity he still didn't come up with an adequate punishment.

“Right then,” he said quietly, taking Pratt’s badge into his hands. “I trust you had an enjoyable week off? Well, I hope it was enjoyable as not all of us can afford such…luxuries these days.” Shrugging, he put the badge back on the desk, the pushed it lightly across the dark, wooden desk towards his colleague. “Would you like to come back to work?” This he asked with more seriousness in his voice, but it was sort of a rhetorical question as he hardly left Pratt any choice in the first place.

Rosier had a cheek. He had more audacity than an auror in Knockturn Alley, more than a hag at a ball. He insulted Ed’s reasons to resign his badge and continued to fiddle with it before pushing it towards Ed against the desk. For the moment Pratt decided to ignore the question posed and now sat forwards, resting elbows against his knees as he looked over the desk at the pompous quill pusher with a fancy title.

“Bloody marvellous week off, yeah, Rosier.” Pratt muttered as if discussing ways to make a pumpkin omelette. “I took the kids and me ex-missus to the sea side with me folks and we sat on the beach all week plotting more ways to make the ministry miserable and penniless. More ways to fuck up your safety behind this ridiculously sized pompous desk.”

The fake smile that had been twisting Ed’s lips vanished as his eyes bore into his boss’. What did Rosier know of not having luxuries? The office was elaborate and stuck up; his robes were no doubt made my enslaved baby elves and their pixie friends and licked by veelas for that luxurious king of the world feel. His hair had probably been nibbled on by free roaming tiny toothed goats and he no doubt holidayed in Jamaica with naked veelas.

“Not everyone can afford the luxury of finding their parents bodies dead on the rug they had sex with their girlfriend on when they were 18.” The words were said with no trace of humour. “I don’t like the way you’re handling this situation, Sir. I had to get my head together.”

Pratt reached an arm out and took the badge from the desk. He looked down at it in his palm and frowned. “Is that smoke still on offer?”

Despite the fact that Rosier was unusually considerate and nice for not accepting this rude Auror’s resignation, Pratt still continued to be stubborn. But he could listen to his ramblings and nonsense about ruining the Ministry or making Rosier’s already miserable life more miserable. If Pratt expected some sort of a reaction, he was very wrong. Rosier just continued to look at him with one eyebrow slightly raised, as if barely showing mild interest. Something told him Pratt’s week off was far from ideal though – the man was in a foul mood (though, Rosier was yet to meet a non-foul Edward Pratt), he looked a bit haggard, if not hungover and he wasn’t even wearing his Auror robes –hence showing no enthusiasm.

“Not everyone can afford the luxury of finding their parents bodies dead on the rug they had sex with their girlfriend on when they were 18.”

Rosier made a face. “My god, that is quite disturbing. Hopefully these two events didn’t occur simultaneously.” He knew he might have crossed the line here, making such an inappropriate and dark humour joke, but it was Pratt who so distastefully brought up his dead parents, not Rosier. And why was Pratt staring at him with such disdain anyway? How could he not realize that any other, sane employer wouldn’t be so lenient?

“I didn’t like the way you handled the situation either, Pratt. And yet here we are – me asking you to come back to work…” In a normal world, in normal circumstances, Pratt would have to apologize for his behaviour and disrespect. Rosier, who knew what kind of a situation the Ministry was in right now didn’t bother with such formalities. Sadly though, Pratt failed to realize how lucky he was. “I do hope you got ‘your head together’ – I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to need it.”

“Is that smoke still on offer?”

For a second, Rosier was a tad confused.  But then he remembered that a week ago he was offering his Yorkshire colleague one of his rather nice cigarettes. With a small smile appearing on his face, Rosier opened the desk drawer and took out a pretty, decorated cigarette case. “Always,” he said, passing the case to the wizard sitting opposite his desk.

The golden badge heavily weighed Eddie’s palm down as his fingers slowly closed around it. It was a good heaviness to the auror. It was familiar and for the past week had been missed. After his family and friends, Ed loved his job. It was the only thing he knew he was good at and in reality it would have been easier to say goodbye to a limb than his career. Pratt lived like an auror, he thought like an auror and dreamt like an auror. Every move, every thought was processed like an investigator, a magical soldier. He had been an idiot the week before to give it up and toss in his badge like a holey sock.

“Always,”

Green eyes flashed up to fall upon the cigarette case being offered and against his better judgement, Eddie reached his free hand out to take it while shoving the auror badge into the pocket of his dark well-worn robes.  He fumbled with the tin and popped it open, taking a posh expensive cigarette between his fingers. The tin was snapped shut and placed on the edge of Rosier’s desk.

“Is that how you solve every situation, Sir?” Pratt mumbled as he placed the tip of the cigarette between his lips and pulled his wand from the holster beneath his black robes. He placed the wand tip to his cigarette and breathed in slowly before exhaling once the tip was lit. “with parchmentwork?”

Once the wand was replaced, two fingers pinched the cigarette and removed it from his lips as Ed exhaled the smoke. “I would bloody love it if the real world panned out that simply to be honest.”

As Pratt lit the cigarette, Rosier couldn’t resist the temptation to have one himself. He took the pretty silver case back and got out a cigarette. He thought this was at least some progress already – he didn’t expect the meeting with the Auror will turn out into an almost social, smoking event. But he was pleased about where this was going; after that last meeting where Pratt demanded resignation, Rosier was quite upset even if he tried very hard to appear as if he doesn’t care at all. But the Prophet already knew – the rest of the office knew…The only rational thing was to quickly make peace and get Pratt back to work and thus prove to the public that the rumours about his resignation were just that – rumours.

He didn’t know how to answer to Pratt’s yet another rather arrogant question. He wouldn’t explain himself and discuss his work methods with him…besides; it was obvious he didn’t solve all of his problems in the same manner. However, this time Rosier held his tongue and spared Pratt of another sarcastic reply. If he was really going to make peace, he will have to work on it as well, not just Pratt. And why would he ruin it, if it was already going so well today?

“Yes well, I would love that too, Pratt,” he said simply, before lightly tapping the cigarette down on the crystal ashtray. He hoped the Auror didn’t mean this seriously – did he think Rosier’s life was simple, easy and perfectly planned out? Was that the impression he gave? Maybe it didn’t seem like it, but Rosier was a stressed out, sometimes angry, oftentimes lonely man. And yes…old – he finally came to the point when he admitted he was old.

But he was curious if Pratt really had such a wrong impression. “I can’t help but wonder – do you truly believe my world is so simple? That my life is so much…better than yours?” He didn’t know how to phrase it differently and less bluntly, but there it was. There was no arrogance in his voice this time, no mocking whatsoever. He was basically ready to have a civil conversation with Edward Pratt.

The question somewhat stumped Eddie. He insulted the wizard before him with unrealised ease and the backhanded comments formed on his tongue before he’d really had time to consider them inside his mind. To Eddie, Cameron Rosier was a pompous twat in overpriced tailored robes, behind a lush desk with no real knowledge of the outside world and the department he was suddenly heading.

And after a moment of inhaling the smoke from his cigarette, taking his time to reflect, Pratt decided he would be plainly honest.

“Yes.” He began, leaning forwards and tapping the edge of his cigarette over the crystallised ash tray; another sign of exaggerated exuberance. “Yer rich. Ye’ve got a job you don’t seem to know a dammed thing about. Yer a pompous twat in elf made robes and aftershave made from fairy dust and vela piss. Ye sit behind a desk that without a doubt has been carved by the bleeding fingers of Siberian muggle children and ye never once think about more than paperwork and your reputation.”

Ed sat forward, resting elbows on his knees as he watched his boss carefully. “I’ve sin’ yer sort before, Rosier. Yer life is simple. Ye piss in a pot and because yer loaded, yer piss is gold and you know it.”

“But simple and being rich don’t make yer life better than mine, no. I value family and friends over money any day.” And with that the reinstated auror took a drag from the ciagarette between his fingers.

Well, Pratt sure was a blunt man. Rosier tried very hard not to chuckle at the “fairy dust and vela piss” comment. In a different situation this would have been hilarious. But Rosier might be wealthy and raised by wizards with a false sense of entitlement and delusions of grandeur, however he wasn’t a spoiled brat, like Pratt seemed to think. Despite mostly working behind a desk which was apparently “carved by the bleeding fingers of Siberian muggle children”, Rosier had seen it all. Pratt could insult him and judge him for being fortunate any time he wanted, but he will not sit in his office and smoke his lovely cigarettes and tell him he is an incompetent fool.

However, he didn’t want to waste time justifying himself. Pratt thought he was an incompetent boss and whatever Rosier might tell him now probably won’t change his opinion. He realized even earlier that to gain respect and trust among the Aurors, he will have to prove himself with his actions and decisions. “Me being ‘rich’ has nothing to do with how I run this Department, Pratt. I don’t care about gold, I just happen to have it.” Once he did dare, when his family left him with basically nothing, but now it was irrelevant. Having enough gold meant he could be a generous benefactor for many charities, including the St. Mungo’s hospital.

He was annoyed Pratt declared his life as ‘simple’. But he wouldn’t argue…once again, there was definitely no point. “I wish you could live my life for a day, Pratt. I assure you – it’s not all vanilla scones, marzipan roses and pink champagne. It’s a lot more grim, I’m afraid.” Pratt had no idea what Rosier’s life and job was like. He liked playing the martyr, but he didn’t realize that Rosier’s job was just as demanding…if not worse.

“But simple and being rich don’t make yer life better than mine, no. I value family and friends over money any day.”

This was the first thing Rosier could absolutely agree with. He had no family…at least not family he was on civil terms with. He had no wife anymore – again, probably his fault and he was not exactly getting younger every day. He had friends, but never solid, real ones. He smiled at the wizard opposite him – it was not a nasty, arrogant smile this time. “Good,” he said. “And I really do envy you for that.”

Rosier’s words of hardship did nothing to change Ed’s opinion of him. Telling his colleague that living a day in the life of him would be tragically depressing and throw yourself off St Mungo’s hospital kind of stuff wasn’t going to make them think ‘oh, actually the really rich, pompous boss has it really hard, let’s give him a pat on the back’. No, instead it made Ed raise an eyebrow, studying his boss across the desk as he took another drag of the cigarette before lowering it.

“And I really do envy you for that.”

Eddie blinked. The calming sensation from his first cigarette in years did nothing to quell the sudden confusion that he felt hearing those words come from the pompous, self confident wizard before him. The auror’s spare right hand rose and he brushed his fingers through his dark blonde hair, leaving it shaggy and out of place as he somewhat grimaced and wondered how to ever continue any conversation with his boss.

Envy was something personal. Rosier envied Ed and his family and friends and that was certainly personal. Something Ed had always tried to stay away from at work. But it certainly hadn’t worked which was why he was sat here in the first place.

“So er...no family? Close friends? Spouses...Sir?” He asked cautiously before lifting the cigarette to his lips and taking a much missed drag. Little did he know the true plural meaning of his penultimate word.

Rosier never had in mind to turn this into an awkward conversation. He simply stated a fact, but it obviously seemed like a big deal to Pratt. He just thought it was known what kind of a life he had – he wasn’t exactly a family man. And while it certainly wasn’t a conversation he would usually have at work, Rosier didn’t see any other way to get on better terms with his colleague. But it was rather amusing how Pratt now looked completely stumped while just a couple of moments ago he was firing insults about his boss’ lifestyle…or what he assumed was his lifestyle.

But Rosier wasn’t lying – deep down he really wished he had a normal family. He knew he had plenty of opportunities, but ruined every single one of them…and will most likely continue to do so for the rest of his life. Pratt was younger than him and he already had four kids - a proper family. So of course he was envious, he would be a madman to deny that. It was obvious Pratt seemed surprised and cautious while replying to him, but Rosier preferred this version of his colleague than the emotional mess he witnessed a week before.

“My family wishes me all the worst – so no, I can easily say – no family.” Most people knew what he did to his family and why. Some people frowned upon his actions, but most agreed – no one liked Death Eater scum that made most of the old Rosier family. “Spouses…ha, well. I can tell you I am currently sick of spouses having divorced last December for the fourth time.” He laughed a bit at the sound of that, trying to make this ridiculous conversation more casual.

Regardless of what Edward Pratt’s negative opinions were of his boss, it still saddened him to hear of a lack of family. For a man that had always been part of a close family environment, the concept of having none around was unfamiliar and odd. Family were noisy and in the way and they spent all your hard earned money. But they were also there in the hard times, supporting and fun. The loss of Ed’s parents had been devastating to him because he had always been close to them. Rosier didn’t understand that.

Pratt had heard years ago about the Rosiers. He’d never read into it properly at the time, preferring to keep his head down and make sure he kept his own half-blood self and his family safe during the war. He hadn’t joined in gossip and therefore knew very only the basics about the Rosiers. But it probably explained his boss’s inability to comprehend the gravity of what was actually happening at the present. Rosier didn’t know how it was affecting the aurors. He could only make a judgement from behind his pompous desk with pompous crystal ashtray and pompous vela piss aftershave.

It wasn’t, however, until Rosier admitted to have recently divorced for the fourth time that Ed finally appeared mildly surprised. Eyebrows rose and a smirk pulled at the corner of Ed’s lips. “Like a proper Henry the 26th then, m-” Ed cleared his throat and straightened his expression. “-Sir.” He'd heard all about these muggle kings from his Dad growing up.

After a moment Pratt allowed a grin to form upon his lips and he tapped the cigarette over the ashtray once more. “Are a couple o’those beheaded then?”

Rosier had to laugh at Pratt’s remark. Someone already called him ‘Henry’ once or twice before (he wasn’t sure if it was 'Henry the…twenty-sixth’ though), but it was a very amusing nickname anyway. But he was glad he managed to turn a hostile conversation into this – maybe Pratt won’t hate him forever after all, perhaps he will return to work with a little bit more enthusiasm. The two of them were obviously very different people, but that didn’t mean they had to be enemies.

Pratt was a family man and he probably frowned upon Rosier’s lifestyle. He grew up in a loveless family environment and unlike Pratt he never had the privilege of coming home where people loved him and cared about him. Almost all of his life, the tried to fix that, but always ended up ruining everything. And now – he thought of himself as too old, too used to what already had and too accustomed to solitude. However, he didn’t want to think about that now. He finished the cigarette and put it out in the crystal ashtray. Again, he couldn’t help but laugh at Pratt’s wit. Beheaded…Rosier wished…

“Sadly no. Though I do wish I lived in a time when it wasn’t frowned upon to behead your wife,” he joked, well almost joked. “Don’t you agree?” Rosier added remembering Pratt was a divorced man himself. Must have been even a greater headache for him because of his children…Rosier couldn’t even imagine. He almost asked Pratt how that was going, but he didn’t want to push it. He had a feeling the talk of his ex-wife would not cheer him up.

He looked around his desk for the cigarette case and offered them again to his colleague, seeing that he was almost done. “Another?” Rosier asked with a smirk.

Didn’t Ed agree? The auror frowned ever so slightly. He would be lying to plead disagreeing.  After a decade of marriage every spouse would surely have imagined slicing the head of their other, certainly not better half off just to stop them talking, just to prevent the wife from continuing to nag, from trying to gnaw your ear off with their bare teeth. Yes, Ed had many time imagined performing a swift slicing motion with his wand, beheading Quincy and putting her head on a stick as a warning to his children to stop bothering him before they received the same fate.

Beheading one’s spouse, however, was certainly not the most sensible or productive manner in which to silence the annoying individual. In reality, Edward didn’t fancy Quincy deceased and he certainly didn’t fancy her head propped up on a stick to view and inspect every day until it rotted and began to suffer the effects of maggot infestation.

The auror finally shook his head. “Nah. I don’t much like maggots” he muttered absentmindedly before taking one final drag from the cigarette and stubbing it out in the ash tray carved from crumple horned snorkack excrement and sealed together with crystal formed from unicorn’s stomach fluid by dragon’s breath.

Rosier obviously noticed Ed had finished his cigarette and the case was more offered. Pratt shook his head and pushed himself up from the chair with a heave. “I’ll pass Sir. One fag’s enough for a decade, thanks. Anyway, I got a job to do, ent I?”