porcelain

where: the department of mysteries 

when: none of your business

Impatience was not an emotion that often presented itself upon Alecto’s demeanour. Not checking the clock had become a practiced measure upon realizing that those around her did not see her time as importantly as she saw it herself and she couldn’t be too particular about it; battles were better picked and chosen. This particular instance however, was enough to make the simmering pot her anger constantly resided in nearly boil over. She had been waiting in the courtroom where she had finished her day of work nearly three hours earlier, pretending that she was still filing through the minutes of the proceedings. There had been nothing too noteworthy though that was hardly a surprise to the young blonde, it was beginning to seem that nothing of note happened within the hallowed halls of the ministry. It was the same day relived a thousand times before actual change or legislation was brought to the table and even then it was always shot down for fear of going against the fray. Though her day had been a waste, the night was shaping up to be a little more productive if only Barty would arrive when he was supposed to. 

Alecto slipped off her heels and shoved them into a handbag that carried far more than would be assumed, pulling out a beat up pair of trainers that would be far better suited for the evening’s activities. She made her way hastily out of the courtroom and into the darkened hallways. All of the clerks had gone home and the judgement committees were likely gathered around their dining tables trying to bite back their hostility towards their dour spouses. The sound of silence was comforting though she could hear the soft pads of feet, somebody was approaching. Her heart raced for a measure before she was comforted with an all too familiar grin. 

“Lovely to see you,” she smiled politely, “Are you all set?”

Her things sat in her bag ready for her to roll out of the office as soon as Minchum tipped his hat at her and bid her a good evening. A silly old man she could not help but to almost feel pity for, thinking that he was doing right by the miscreants that had weaselled their way into the fringes of the ruling class, he was hardly the sort of mentor he likened himself to be. Nonetheless she was eager to show an aptitude for the kind of alleged pressure a job like his was. Alecto knew that playing nice was part of the game, even if it felt torturous. 

She could practically already feel her after work martini sliding down her throat as she gathered her things to leave the office and she counted the clicking of her heels against the cold wood floors as an indicator of when she might be able to perch a cigarette between her fingers and return to her natural state. As she exited into the torpid evening air, Alecto’s smile faded and she looked left and right to see if there was any sort of ally for her to waste the rest of her night with. She craved fun, the kind of fun that lingered in your hair the next day, she needed that. 

“Hey,” she called out at the back of a familiar head of hair, “Have you got a light?”