across the room, your eyes are glowin' in the dark

Lucinda was always polite to the right people, and Frank Longbottom was the right person. Well respected family, intelligent and well mannered. Her family had overlooked the Longbottom’s alignment in the war, preferring to keep their respectable connections regardless of side, and so she followed suit. Whenever they passed each other in the street, or happened to be at the same even she made a point to exchange pleasantries with him. He didn’t make it difficult either, he was easy to talk to. 

“Frank, how are you?” She stopped him as she passed through the Leaky Cauldron, not stopping for a drink, just passing through. She’d been on her walk home - it had been her first show on the season and she was on a high, her enthusiasm bubbling through. “And you mother? Gosh, I haven’t seen her for a while, must be over a year now! Time seems to move so quickly these days, we’re all so busy.” She supposed Frank must be a very busy man. Being an auror was a demanding job, a husband too, and her parents’ grumblings were correct she suspected he spent at least part of his time working for The Order of the Pheonix. Silly boy, it was always best to stick with the side that was winning.

@auror-frank​

—

Frank hadn’t intended for the Leaky Cauldron to be part of his routine, but it was a moment of reprieve before going home, where there were other anxieties to deal with. Not quite like work anxieties or Order anxieties, but definitely stifling enough.

It was difficult to tell if there was sarcasm in her tone when he had been approached by Lucida, but even if there were—Frank would still have to be polite. His mother was better at reading people than he was, and it was rather… lazy of him to think that being polite would somehow change their opinion of him. Or perhaps it was easy to let people have their opinions on how strange the Longbottoms were; it wasn’t like Augusta made it her business to change their minds.

He didn’t remember being close to the family—maybe they had rubbed elbows at parties, but usually his mother was better at keeping track of these sorts of things for him. He tried not to rely on her too much, but when he couldn’t decipher—perhaps too tired to—whether or not this was genuine small talk, he settled on thinking that it as just January.

So caffeine was very much the order of the moment and the nearest proximity to Diagon Alley with semi-reasonable coffee was the Leaky Cauldron. Explaining how he’d ended up at a corner table a plate of full English and healthy pot of coffee in front of him, while neatly scripting the contents required for the forms. Twenty-five minutes later, the forms were gone and Sam was left with another thirty-five to kill.

With little else to do, he pulled over the nearest newspaper, folding it over and pressing out the puzzles and quizzes section and took his pen to the daily crossword. Yet for the last five minutes he’d sat, seemingly stumped by one of the words. “Eight letters, involves hard or tedious work, Third letter I ends in E…” Normally the answer wouldn’t be hard to come by, but the brain-fog of the night was fast catching up with him. With a huff of resigned frustration he glanced around for a friendly face who might offer their insight. “Sorry-“ he spoke with an apologetic smile, hoping to catch the attention of the nearest person “you wouldn’t be able to help me with this? You look like you’re rather smart and apparently I’m rather stuck it would seem. I can’t think of the word that might fit here…”

—

There had been a work emergency that night. One of the less palatable parts of being an Auror was needing to be ready at the drop of a hat. Sure, the Department of Law Enforcement had hours were people could come and complain all they like, at least until the end of the business day. But crimes were like curses, not bound by whether the sun was up or down or somewhere in between.

He wandered into the Leaky Cauldron as the sky turned a soft pink with the sun rise, creeping up from how it dyed the sky periwinkle when he was still following an investigation. Gods damned killer houseplants—it felt more of a job for a hit wizard or an Obliviator, though it was only now did he realize how much it escalated that they needed to call him to help take care of things.

But a voice caught him, even as exhausted as he was on the way into the pub. So tired he was that he couldn’t be sure what to order, and so early it was that the place was still relatively empty.

Frank was smart. He could take the compliment and go, but he already knew that word games were not his forte. He turned to look at the man through bleary eyes, giving a faint smile. “Try tapping on the page with your wand and see if they hide the answer there instead.”

𝐀 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 down things. There was an array of items and books on the shelves behind the young woman; her most recent cases that eventually would get taken care of. Emmeline was by the desk, her right foot bouncing out of habit while more notes were taken. If it hadn’t been for the knock on the door and the figure that appeared upon the entry request, the young woman would have spent hours upon hours hunched over her desk, never to look upon until satisfied with the work in front of her.

There was curiosity as she observed the person in front of her, the glint in his eyes not gone by unnoticed. There was a connection there; the work in the Order, her days at school. Oh, there had been distance once but life had a habit of changing things. Emmeline couldn’t help but notice the urgency. Clearly whatever was going on was important.  If someone like Frank would call, Emmeline would answer.

She reached out, hand open for the file and yet gave a nod at his reluctance to hand it over. His words so very clear that even the young witch couldn’t deny understanding where his hesitation came from. “Of course.” A smile as she closed the file in front of her. It was something that could wait until later. “All yours for the next two hours. Should be enough time to catch up on all the necessary things.” Emmeline reached for her coat. “Where are we heading?” With a flick of her hand the quills stopped, carefully floating down onto the pages. This was work for later.

—

Two hours was more than enough time. More than enough of a lunch hour for Frank, who usually just ate his lunch at his desk. Perhaps in the sudden swing of being a responsible adult, he had gotten better with making his lunch instead of going to Diagon Alley to be with the normal lunch rush.

No, he needed to make sure he was on the same page as Emmeline. Maybe not only on this case, so much as having some sort of opinion on…

A part of him thought that it was taboo to even think about his side… hobby.

It was easy to feel comfortable in the office, to bury himself in work, to cover for Alice when she couldn’t manage her caseload. But in that complacency, he trusted too much, and he didn’t even realize how reliant he had been on the steady rhythm of cases, reports, investigations.

“We’re going to the Leaky Cauldron. Then maybe… a walk around town?” He smiled, but it fell flat. Not forced, because she did agree. The stress clouded his eyes, unsure if his work here or if his work with—

It had been a couple of months since Ludovic had started working at the Ministry, and he was still hating every moment of it. He was now able to easily find his own office, but if he deviated from his usual path he would end up hopelessly lost. As Quidditch season started, it was taking a bigger toll on him than he had expected it to. He missed his broom, he missed training, he missed his teammates. Being locked away in an office all day was not nearly as rewarding as playing was. Glancing at the clock for the millionth time that day, Ludo decided once his work day was over he was gonna take his broom out for a spin, visit the Quidditch pitch, try and feel at least some sort of normal.

As soon as five o'clock hit, Ludo dropped the quill in his hands and pushed himself away from his desk, not at all bothered by the stack of paper work he hadn’t started. There was always tomorrow, after he’d gotten a little time in on his broom. Leaving his office, slinging his jacket over his shoulders as he made his way through the hallways, waving goodbye to his colleagues on his way out. Managing to find his way out with no problems, Ludo grinned proudly to himself, hardly realizing he’d bumped into somebody else until they were saying his name. “Oh, hey!” He greeted, “I’m about to go get my broom and fly around the pitch, if you wanna join me.” 

— 

Frank tried to go home as early as he could. Of course there were always emergencies that would pull him out of bed at some awful ridiculous hour, but he tried to spend as much time with Alice while she was still awake. But Frank—Frank couldn’t help but stay up late either way, and as soon as he stepped out of the office to take the Floo home, he had been greeted with someone whose jacket slung over their shoulder.

He quirked a brow at the request. The pitch? He hadn’t been on a broom since—first year probably. Perhaps any other time since had been on some drunken night that he didn’t remember, or by passing incident. He was tired, but thought better of himself—if only because the last few weeks (or months?) had been the same routine after he had come from work.

“I’ll join.” Frank nodded, as if the motion would increase his confidence behind his answer. There was a part of him that thought that, once the baby was born, he’d never have opportunities out of the blue to—do this. Even if he’d never think to do this. He still smiled though, cheerful and a bit excited amidst the snag he had hit: “But I don’t actually have a broomstick.”

Especially not when it came to someone who worked for the Order too. In the office they were, with a case file in his hand, but that wasn’t exactly what he was keen on discussing. As he approached Emmeline, there was an insistent glint in his eye that hopefully expressed the mild urgency he felt when he felt like he was talking in code, one to be decoded by someone he wasn’t sure even knew how to read him.

“You’re needed for this next case I’m working on,” he started. But instead of putting the file on her desk, he tilted his head up. “Are you free for lunch? I’m sure we can chat, if—if you’re not busy.”

Marlene was more nervous that she would care to admit. She wondered if either of them could go to azkaban for this. She supposed if the Ministry found out then Frank would loose his job - that was if he wasn’t here for work. Marlene had found it more difficult to trust recently. Paranoia had been creeping in, and she saw death eaters everywhere. Watching her as she went about her business and plotting how to finish the job and kill her and Liam. 

She’d even started wondering about some of her friends who weren’t in The Order and even those who were. What if there were spies all around? What if Sirius had got back in touch with his Black cousins and was working with them? What if Remus had been drawn in by Regulus’ friendship and was now doing the Dark Lord’s bidding? What if Severus had put Lily under the imperius curse? She had tried to make a list of those she knew she could trust without a shadow of a doubt, but only Daisy and Peter had made it on. Daisy because Marlene lived with her and would surely have seen something to make her suspicious by now. Peter because of what the Dark Lord had done to him. Frank had come close to making the cut, but she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Still, she was sure enough to trust him to cast the imperius curse on her. 

It wasn’t a good idea to go first though. Alarms were ringing in her head. If he wasn’t a Death Eater, which she was almost sure he wasn’t, he was still a dedicated on-duty auror attempting to trick her. If she were to go first she’d be committing an illegal act. He might arrest her afterwards. Better she force him to cast the first spell. Surely an auror on duty would refuse to do that. 

“No. You go first.” She didn’t want to come out and say that she didn’t trust him, so she made up some excuse. “I hear being under the imperius curse is the most wonderful feeling in the world. I’m curious.”

—

** “What?”**

Frank was surprised by her—it wasn’t a change of heart, exactly. Whatever eagerness she had before had turned into… something else. Something Frank can’t quite place, though he figured it probably had something to do with the murder of her entire family. It didn’t feel like she were being more cautious. She still wanted to learn about the Unforgiveables, although how much learning was there to do about torturing people or forcing them to do bidding against their will?

No, if this were caution she were really exercising, then the two of them would literally be doing something else. He’d be teaching her about shield charms and protective spells, but even then, those weren’t completely foolproof. Maybe it would be enough to buy some time to think, to come up with another spell, to distract them into dealing with something else. Maybe it was enough to save your own life, or someone else’s—

Frank was sure that was a lecture Marlene didn’t want to hear in the aftermath of her family’s deaths. It would have to be something she heard eventually though; that there were others who could be saved because of what they were doing—but he didn’t forget that Marlene had entered the arena with a vendetta against those who hid behind the silver masks.

Somehow he was afraid to ask if she had any names. Not anything that he would pursue in any official capacity, but he wanted to see how far she had gotten on her own personal investigation, as someone who was effectively working for herself. She didn’t get a paycheck for this search, and Frank had a home and a family to look out for.

Was that a freedom she had now? Surely the grief shrouded it. If Frank had lost Alice or his mother, he wouldn’t know how to move past it. He didn’t see himself as a vengeful person enough to go after who had done it—because he was absolutely sure the only way either of them would have gone is if someone had murdered or maimed them. He wasn’t even sure that exacting revenge would even be that satisfying, though he had never gone through such a loss himself.

In a way he was grateful that it hadn’t been his family. He felt sorry for her, and as much as he didn’t want to think to himself that it was better them than us—perhaps that was the case here. Maybe if it hadn’t been for the McKinnons, the Longbottoms were still around.

But hadn’t Marlene always operated by her own rules anyway? This time though, she had nothing to lose—and Frank couldn’t imagine what it was like to have so little self-preservation.

He finally steeled himself and sucked in a breath. He stepped back, feeling the rocks and the dirt under his shoes, though it did little to ground him. He was actually nervous, but not because of any fear of repercussions. She had asked him to do this; there was no morally evil implication about fulfilling a request—an Unforgivable turned Forgivable, in this instance. What they were doing was technically illegal, but it wasn’t as if

Frank raised his wand towards Marlene. He knew the incantation, but he had never actually cast the incantation himself. He never needed to do it; it wasn’t as if Auror training covered how to do what was illegal. It was forcing his magic to do something new, and there was a risk in actually hurting Marlene if he didn’t do it right.

But what wrong way was there in casting an Unforgivable anyway, when there was no one who would disagree about how wrong it was to perform in the first palce?

He opened his mouth and twisted his wand, ready to finally cast the curse, except—

“Okay, but why though? Why do you want me to go first?”

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was a study of something that was so taboo that even the Ministry wouldn’t dare to touch it. Did the Imperius Curse have lingering effects? He hadn’t felt that wonderful feeling she described—but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen anything similar. People had become addicted to certain potions all the time; the only difference is that you needed someone to cast the Imperius Curse to make it happen.

It had been a long night. It was part of the job that Alice hated. The middle of the night wake up calls. Alice dreaded the time she was awoken with the news that it was her family that had been targeted. Both Andromeda and Sirius were huge targets. It was only time. So, Alice was just thankful that this time, it wasn’t her family. It didn’t make it any less dreadful. She knew Marlene. And so, it had been hard being at that scene. It had made her feel sick, which was horrible considering she was already experiencing morning sickness. She had been glad to leave and get back to the office.

She hadn’t lasted long there though, before she’d had to call it a day. Everything was just getting too much, and she’d needed sleep. So, she’d gone home, and slept away most of the afternoon. The woman was a little disorientated as she awoke, with darkness filling the room, apart from a few lamps that her husband had lit as he’d come into the room.

“What time is it?” She murmured, rolling onto her side to look at her husband, still a little disorientated by having only just woke up. “Have you just got home?”

@auror-frank

—

If the sun had dipped under the western horizon then rose again to bring morning, Frank wouldn’t have noticed. Even though Alice was his partner—even at work—he had felt so detached after knowing what had happened to the McKinnons. With an attack like this, there was always so much work to do. On his end, he had to investigate the scene of the crime, but even that had proven difficult because of his own Order affiliations. He tried to put it in the back of his mind, but the McKinnons had been friends. He knew that family, had been friends with them—but he couldn’t just request to take himself off this case, even if he considered them close.

It was hard to look at Alice, even though she had been pulled away by other tasks. They could have been next—they could be next. How much will being part of the Sacred Twenty-Seven actually save them? Every night he puts up protective charms over their home, but even then he knows they’re not completely foolproof. He thinks about their home, the cottage by the beach, the little kitchen and the bedrooms—one of which would eventually have a crib. Then he felt nauseated at the thought.

He had a child to protect now, and maybe it was risking too much to continue being part of the Order. After an attack like this, he questioned if they were on the right side of the war. He didn’t have to be a Death Eater, but he could conveniently look the other way, if it meant protecting Alice and his child. But on the other hand, extended that privilege to them felt moot: no matter how much Frank could do to be agreeable, they could still take everything away from him.

And the way he thought, he was aware, was selfish. He didn’t become an Auror to protect himself—he was putting his life out on the line to keep his community safe. In a way, he had been told that there was glory in becoming an Auror, but it was hard to tell now in the midst of loss if that glory was worth it. There was no glory in losing the war, no glory in losing his loved ones, no glory in watching the Dark Lord grow stronger.

Frank felt helpless, but he was determined to keep fighting. His intentions were selfish, but if he hadn’t been selfish, he would have no sense of self-preservation. He had to fight for a world where his child would grow up without having to worry about any of this anymore. He was motivated by keeping everyone safe, but his focus was sharpened by the child he hadn’t even met yet.

He let himself inside, taking down the protective charms outside of their house, then meticulously putting it all back together. This would save them time, if they had to escape. Frank couldn’t help but recite the charms over and over, making sure that it kept them as secure as possible. He was a rather powerful wizard, so it felt good to put his magic to use. But damn, he was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget.

But he wasn’t sure he was going to be blessed with sleep, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. It was dark enough that he needed to turn on a few lamps in their bedroom, only to be greeted by his wife in bed already. On most other days he’d be in a much happier mood to see her, but now that he had worked for—he didn’t even know how many hours at this point—he wasn’t sure he could manage even holding a conversation for very long now.

The coffee in his veins could keep him awake, in theory, but his head felt like it was swimming the longer he stayed awake. He managed to give her a small smile, taking off his robes and shuffling to their small closet to change. “Yeah. I just got home.”

His voice felt like it was faraway, like he wasn’t paying close attention to much of anything, He stripped off his shirts and changed into something more comfortable in the meantime. The mattress sank when he finally sat down from his side of the bed, facing away from Alice. The dim light illuminated the room, but at least it wasn’t as harsh as the light in the offices where he had to file all of the paperwork for this latest case.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it was late. It didn’t feel like just a long day—it felt like he hadn’t seen sunlight, with how they were surrounded by death and destruction. How long had it been since they were at the crime scene? How long had it been since he was at the office? He didn’t even remember being dismissed—did he just work until he knew he was past exhaustion? “It’s dark out,” Frank said simply. “What time did you get home?”

Maybe Alice didn’t keep track of time either, and he finally turned to her. The bags under his eyes revealed his exhaustion, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make an effort to support them both. His concern now was on her; she needed to be the one that was rested and healthy, and Frank was willing to run himself ragged to make sure she got what she needed.

“How are you holding up?” He asked her. He hoped that she would not lie to him for his own sake, though he wondered if making his next suggestion would be more to his benefit. It hadn’t been something he considered, since it had been fine with just the two of them for a long time—but Frank was beginning to struggle with balancing his life between work and home. Maybe Alice was built different, but he couldn’t be sure.

Aurors were the last people that she needed or wanted to see. Of course, she really did not like seeing them on a normal day. But after an evening of causing chaos, misery, and death, she really did not want to see them. Evalyn really did not know Frank Longbottom all that well, neither did she really want too. All she knew was that the Longbottoms weren’t the best family in the world. So, that was enough really. Running into him today, was just an annoyance really. She just wanted to get on with her day. Hopefully he wouldn’t keep her too long.

“Good morning Mr Longbottom.” She murmured with a nod, a faint smile on her face. “May I help you with anything?” @auror-frank​

—

Eva Avery took a tone with him that he didn’t like, but Frank wondered if that was just the tone that she took with everyone. He tried not to sound too offended—especially considering the fact that it actually did take a lot to really bother him. On the other hand, the recent events made it difficult to keep whatever calm he exuded. For a Gryffindor, he was definitely a lot more calm than most people expected him to be, but mostly because Augusta Longbottom had raised him to be that way. In some ways, people-pleasing. At the end of the day, he needed to get along with as many people as possible, and that included the Averys.

There were a few families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight that Frank had grown up being wary of. Some of them, he had been told to be wary of—but for the most part, he could just sense the vibe that he wasn’t going to be liked by the virtue of the fact that his father had chosen his mother. She hadn’t been a part of the exclusive list of families, but she was still technically pureblooded. If anything, Alice had been an improvement to their reputation, or she would have been, had she actually stayed in touch with her family.

Frank had never been good at figuring out the nuance. Alice had always been better at networking, knowing which people to talk to. Frank really just wanted to be friends with everyone, even if it meant that there were some quandaries between what he stood for as part of the Order and what his friends espoused so casually.

It was clear that he had already gotten on Evalyn Avery’s nerves somehow, as if there had been a problem that had existed beforehand that he didn’t know about. Should he take that personally? Or should he—

No, she had asked him the question first. His expression was mildly confused at first, because he didn’t need help with anything, and he wasn’t entirely sure if she’d cooperate with the investigation that was ongoing after the recent attacks on the McKinnons. But he should try, even if he were off-duty; if this had happened to him, if he lost his mother or Alice, he would want someone to try on his behalf. Besides, he had a soft spot for Marlene, who had been fire in a forest, further fueled now by the gasoline of her family’s destruction.

He had given bad news before, but he would hate to be the one to face Marlene then.

Frank bit the inside of his lip, trying to strategize his way into this conversation. She offered to help him, but he doubted she would actually cooperate. It wasn’t like there was veritaserum involved in this questioning—besides, the use of veritaserum was strictly limited by the Ministry for a reason he didn’t quite understand. It was just another way that the system he worked for was failing everyone. But he still had to get answers somehow, even if they weren’t the ones that he wanted.

Not that he suspected her of doing anything—he truly believed that people were innocent unless they were proven guilty. He tilted his head at her, trying not to look too skeptical—though the fact that he looked more surprised at her question had probably helped control his expressions.

“Would you actually help me though?” Frank asked, with no hint of malice or sarcasm—instead trying to make a point about her own sarcasm that was evident in the expression she wore when she addressed him. “It’s fine, really, if you don’t want to.”

Gods, he was being too kind, wasn’t he? As much as he could play mind games with people, he didn’t think that he was that clever for that. His skills in an Auror lay in his wandwork, not in his skills in interrogation. And there was no higher power for him to pray to that would make him more convincing enough to get anything out of this interaction. But it would be nice if you did, Frank wanted to say. It would be nice if you really did help us.

But she did offer, so he really should take her up on that rather limited offer. To ask her directly seemed rather foolish, and he hadn’t thought of a way to figure out how to manage this in a roundabout sort of way. He wanted to know who had been at the attack and what others there were—all information that was too direct. Was she involved in any of it? It was no surprise that there were families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight who worked for the Dark Lord, ready to reap the benefits if the war turned to their side.

Mostly, he wanted to know what the problem with the Longbottoms were. Frank understood why he had been warned to keep a wide berth. Maybe he could find that justification here through Evalyn.

Nathaniel sighed as his eyes skimmed over the slow-moving crowd in front of him. Walking through the hallways towards the Ministry’s floo network had never been fun. The corridors were always filled to the brim with aurors, ministry workers and the occasional poor sod being dragged in to face a Wizengamot trial. Typically, Nathaniel enjoyed staying as far away from the ministry as possible. However,  today his father had a meeting with a few friends on the political ladder and Nathaniel, in a bid to stop his father squandering away their remaining fortune, went alongside.

Now, he was running late for work. Trying his best to fight through the crowd and make it to the floo network before his mentor released he was late. So as someone pushed in beside him, Nathaniel couldn’t help the tut that fell from his lips. “Do you mind? Some of us have places to be.”

—

Frank had accidentally shoved into someone, not because he was in any hurry, but because he hadn’t been paying attention. His mind had been elsewhere, and he wanted to say it was determined to stay thinking about the latest case. Truthfully, it wasn’t—he couldn’t get himself to focus very much these days, and he was glad that his own shift was over. HIs own coworkers grated on his nerves more than usual, and while he wasn’t unhappy... it was more than evident that being an Auror nowadays just sucked.

Of course, with the crowd around them in the Atrium, being shoved around like this hadn’t exactly been a surprise to Frank. He had a taller stature, in part to good genetics and an Auror’s posture, so he wasn’t knocked down easily. If he were any less kind, then he would probably look a lot more imposing in his Auror’s robes. Some have argued that Frank Longbottom was too soft, and it was hard to tell if Frank were really living up to the legacy that his father had left behind.

But usually, being in a cramped space didn’t really bother him—and even as he muttered an apology that usually resulted in a furtive look (or less)—it seemed that this wasn’t going to be the case this time around. He studied the man who addressed him, and Frank maybe recognized someone who was a few years younger than he was. Not young enough to look fresh out of Hogwarts, so not quite worth reprimanding. No one he recognized would be too important, so certainly enough to be curt with him without dealing with any consequence later.

“Wait in line like everyone else.” He looked at them with that you-must-be-new here expression. “Or Apparate where you need to go. That’s quicker than milling around here.”

There were reasons that people didn’t just Apparate sometimes—it took too much energy and sometimes the distance wasn’t worth the risk of getting splinched. Sometimes people were too inexperienced. Frank was used to being called for work, with emergencies like these, and he fully expected another one to happen soon. (Or perhaps the Death Eaters were too busy savoring their victory, but one battle didn’t win the war.)

Fabian sat perched at the window, wand in hand and swaying it seemingly aimlessly as he looked out at the sky. A single bird was flying past and seemed to hover in the wind, gliding in place with its wings spread and still. He watched it and wondered if it would keep flying if he let it go, or if it would actually fall to the ground. It would probably just keep flying. He was so incredibly bored.

—

Frank was stressed—but shouldn’t this be something he should be used to by now? He didn’t join the Ministry for it to be easy, he didn’t train to be an Auror to live a comfortable life. There were some days that he regretted that decision, but looking back over the last ten years—from when he had first made the decision to become an Auror in the first place, to pick up a legacy that he didn’t even understand—he wasn’t sure he had a choice. He wasn’t sure he would know who he was if he didn’t become an Auror, if there had been some other safer path for him.

But without this path, there would be no Alice—or rather, a much different relationship with Alice. He didn’t think about that much that day though, rummaging through filing cabinets for old reports, trying to put together pieces of the puzzle that led to the McKinnons’ deaths. A part of his was searching for the answer, to see if there were any warning signs that they had missed.

That regret gnawed at him again, and he had to remind himself that everyone was stressed. He was just better prepared for it, but even at the fine age of twenty-five he missed his old bed at his mother’s house. There, it had been safe. Familiar. There had been a porch swing in the back—

Maybe it was the lack of sleep that kept him going from one thought to another, swinging like a pendulum. His mood seemed to shift similarly, as did his focus. He kept cursing under his breath, realizing that he was either missing a folder that he hadn’t pulled from the filing cabinet or he forgot to write down a case number that he was trying to track down to figure this out.

Sometimes he sat and closed his eyes, but in the back of his eyelids, he only saw the Dark Mark over the scene of the crime, glowing in the night as if it had been etched into the air with a knife. Even those thoughts too—dark as they were, as wrong as they were—somehow lingered in his psyche, motivated by the friends he knew were on the other side. But they were friends, in his opinion, that were still worth keeping.

Worth keeping, perhaps, because there’s a possibility that this war could actually be lost in one wrong move. But Frank was thinking too much, and he shuffled through folders on his desk before deciding that he needed another cup of coffee to keep going.

On the way to get it on the other side of the office, he wonders if Fabian were feeling the same way he was. Frank made a detour towards his direction, where it looked like his eyes were glazed over. It was hard to tell if he were focusing hard or hardly focusing. Frank swung his forearm in front of his face, snapping his fingers.

“Are you attempting to prove Xenny right by looking like a skittle-fisk? Or is this a new way of training?”

Pandora stared at them rather oddly, her head offering a gentle tilt as she kept her arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t know what skittle-fisks look like, but I suppose Xenny doesn’t know either given he hasn’t mentioned their description in the Quibbler yet.” In a way, this was her way of teasing, though, her ability not to break character often made people wonder if she was serious.

“Professor Dumbledore would probably prefer we do things indoors as to not be so obvious. At least, that’s what I was told after I blew up that tree last week.”

—

Frank hadn’t done anything wrong—or so he thought, at least until he was greeted by Pandora on his way through. He literally just got there, but clearly he had either looked very conspicuous or very suspicious or both. There were a couple of things he wanted to do to try and help out, especially with the Order members who are worried about being next. Although—Frank had thought worrying about it was silly. It was easier to just assume you were next, and it was a time like this that sharpened one’s survival skills. Frank didn’t want anymore of his friends to be statistics in this war, not if he could help it. He was going around making his off-duty visits, just to make sure that everyone was up to speed regarding their protective charms.

If anything, Frank would rather have everyone in a classroom and teach them how to properly duel, but only Marlene had really wanted to work on duelling. Maybe this moment was Frank would do more for the Order, reach out more and see if anyone else wanted to do something more.

It took a moment to parse the gibberish that Pandora had spattered at him, but she hadn’t exactly been shy either. She definitely knew what she was talking about, even if he didn’t understand was a skittle-something was. Or at least it sounded like it, that she had an absolute confidence in her knowledge of what it was.

But before Frank could understand what a skittle-something was, she started talking about how she didn’t know what it looked like—and that maybe Xenophiliius didn’t know either. He couldn’t hide his bewildered expression, unsure of what she was trying to get at and forgetting how chatty she had been. Or maybe she just wanted to catch him by surprise.

“If we don’t know what it looks like, what exactly does it do?” Frank asked. He wasn’t a magizoologist, but he imagined that maybe he could come up with what it could maybe look like if there was a purpose to it. He considered himself one of the few to really take the Lovegoods seriously—or at least enough that the Quibbler wasn’t something that immediately went into the trash when the owl delivered it.

When: Day after the attacks in London Where: Outside the Daily Prophet’s Main Office, Diagon Alley Who: Frank / Bellatrix

Bellatrix was on a adrenaline high from the moment she had stepped into the rows of homes they had chosen to terroize and even after the Death Eaters had disapparated to their safe house. She couldn’t keep the smug smirk off her face as she reminisced on the screams and cries of fear she heard as she read about the attacks in the paper. It was a chance for complete and utter chaos, a chance for the Death Eaters as well as herself to show the world they really weren’t the kind to be messed with right now. The spells had shot through her wands quickly and shiftly to showcase she was very much deserving of her high place among the inner circle. “Such a shame the Aurors hadn’t been there quick enough,” She spoke innocently, though anyone who truly knew her knew she was revelling in the fact they didn’t get caught. “Who knows maybe they could’ve been a help to those people, though then again it was only a few blood traitors.”

—

Off-duty, finally—and only a reminder of how much too late was actually too late. The difference between the two was life and death, and the McKinnons had made that clear. He wasn’t even sure they had time to escape, though he wondered if their deaths were just the easiest way to go about it. He had taken the long way from the Ministry offices to Diagon Alley, opting to go by foot. He didn’t want to risk Apparating home at the moment, with how exhausted he felt. But when a voice rang out, purposely trying to be heard—it was hard not to ignore that wild hair and wide eyes.

Frank was sure that Bellatrix hadn’t exactly been… innocent. There was no evidence—yet. There was a sick sarcasm in her sweetness that she didn’t try to hide, and while Frank hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to rub elbows with the Blacks—with the exception of Andromeda—he knew that he had to maintain his composure. He was going to have to play polite, but he wasn’t sure she’d be able to extend that same… kindness. It was hard to know that there was a sort of darkness in people that existed, and with the way she talked about blood traitors—he’d probably be next.

It was hard not to make that eye contact, with the way she paraded herself around the front of the Prophet Office. She was looking for a fight, and Frank had to be ready. Would she be a fair fighter and decide not to come after him unharmed? They were in a rather public place, after all—but how much did she care about decorum?

Frank hated that he had to ask these questions, but the Blacks were a family that he had quickly learned to stay clear of. He knew that there was no point into getting an argument about murder, since even if she had been innocent, she evidently reveled in one less family working against the Death Eaters. He wasn’t going to play like he didn’t know, but he wanted all of it to make more sense. (It felt like a bit of a stretch to play this game of philosophy with Bellatrix Black, anyway.)

“Well, what do you think the Aurors could have done to get there in time?” Frank asked. “Since they were—you know. And why does it matter that they were blood traitors? Feels a little like a detail that… would have been overlooked, I think.”

When: November 14th, 1981 Where: The Leaky Cauldron Andromeda & Frank

When Andromeda had been roused out of bed by Ted last night, her first reaction had been relief. Relief that her family hadn’t been targeted and that Ted and Dora were okay. She had hastily dressed and headed into the Prophet office, knowing that there was a lot of work to get done to inform people of what had happened. The longer that the night had gone on, the angrier and more devastated that Andromeda had become. It was so senseless all of this death and destruction. Innocent lives had been taken and families had been destroyed. She felt guilty that her family had made it out of this unharmed. After all, Bellatrix hadn’t hesitated to remind her that she was a blood traitor just like the rest of them. Why the McKinnons and not her? She just knew she would have to keep Dora closer to her and she was going to have to do more to protect her.

Not ready to go home even though all she wanted to do was crawl in bed, she was exhausted and had been at work for hours, she found herself sitting in a booth in the Leaky Cauldron. She had ordered breakfast and she was staring into her coffee, at a loss for what to do. It was difficult to know that there was nothing that she could do for the families that had lost so much last night. How did you continue on when you knew that your family was most likely involved last night? Andy knew that there would be a next time, and what if it was Ted that was killed? She would fall apart.  

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that? It was a long night.”

—

“I asked if you needed help.” Frank’s mouth pursed for a moment before repeating himself, because it felt as if he had already known the answer without having to ask again. He had been at the Leaky Cauldron too, that long night wringing him like a towel. There wasn’t more they could wring from him when he had been called that scene.

Frank had known Andromeda well. She had only been a year older than him and Alice. What he remembered of her was that her family wasn’t exactly one to be crossed—and he wasn’t keen on meeting Bellatrix on the battlefield after the reputation she had created for herself. Narcissa had stayed as cold as ever, difficult to navigate and perhaps truly the enigma of the family to crack.

But it wasn’t until much later that Frank could really consider Andromeda a friend. He had mostly kept up with her through Alice, a cousin through the Rosier side—it was really only through that connection that he knew that she had a daughter with Ted Tonks. Whatever trepidation he had about being a parent never left, but it was… rather miserable that it wasn’t Alice’s pregnancy that would bring them to the same place.

He hadn’t ordered breakfast yet. He remembered doing all of the Auror tasks—investigating the scene, scanning for clues, warding the house. As if… the Dark Mark above hadn’t already told everyone to stay out and stay away. But all of it had been emotionless, and he was drained. In a way he had to be, to stay any sort of impartial in a job that required it. That didn’t make it any easier when he was off the clock, excused to go home.

He didn’t think he’d be able to get any rest, but being able to go home was a privilege that the McKinnons didn’t have. At the very least, closing his eyes in his own bed was a comfort that he knew he shouldn’t take for granted. Maybe once he got home—he’d crash.

But for now, he had seen his friend, with the way she looked hollowed out over the breakfast that she had probably ordered less out of enjoyment and more out of fulfillment. He didn’t take a seat yet, but he looked at her with wide eyes, trying to make himself look less… exhausted, somehow. “How’s the family?”

Emma was out in public when she found out, and she found it hard to contain her anger. She’d never felt like this before. She’d never felt angry at what she read in the papers. Okay, maybe she sometimes felt angry when they badmouthed her. But this was different. People were dead. Innocent people were dead. And the knew her family could have done his. Emma knew that was why she felt angry. She’d already been feeling confused about things. Confused about where her loyalty was, and if she was doing the right thing by doing nothing. But, there was little to be confused about now.

“Fuck…..” She grumbled, shaking her head, as she spun around, throwing the paper into a nearby bin without even reading the rest of it. She ran her fingers through her hair, just trying to calm down.

—

Frank was just tired. He had been called to that scene, only to find that the Death Eaters were gone and that the Dark Mark loomed over the bodies. He had trouble finding the words for something that was greater than disappointment. This had never been a game to him, but there was dissatisfaction in how he felt about how slow the response had been.

He hadn’t looked too closely into it. Did the McKinnons really have to die? Someone had to arrange a funeral—that should have been his first thought. There was no going back on something that had just been too late. He wondered if there had been some kind of way to get intel—or if everything his department had been dealing with had just been wrong.

Today he was running a few smaller cases, checking in with people he had questioned about a minor vandalism a few weeks ago. He had been bored then, but grateful for it now, watching the walls scrubbed clean. A part of him wasn’t sure that they should be adding more security around here, just in case—but that hadn’t been his call to make, and he already knew that the Aurors were stretched thin.

But he saw a girl circle the bin, and he just spotted the crumpled sheet on top of it. He didn’t need to look too closely to recognize that it was the Prophet parchment, but he managed to stand up and move towards her. She looked as if she were driven insane by something.

“Come on,” Frank started. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Marlene needed to let off some steam. Ever since the night she’d seen that dark mark, she’d found herself even faster to anger and always on edge. She was jumpier than usual and there was a constant impending sense of doom that hung over her, never shifting, telling her something there was something awful coming round the corner as if the worst hadn’t already happened. She had a myriad of ways to cope with it which fell into three broad categories: destroying things, drinking fire whiskey and imagining the torturous deaths of every Death Eater she knew. She planned to add another coping mechanism to that list - diving head first into dark magic. If they were going to use it again her, she may as well know what to expect and be able to return it. 

She had decided that Frank would make a good partner in crime. She respected him and after their practice duels together she felt like he would be down for something a little darker. Marlene wanted to learn how to resist the imperius curse and when she wrote a letter to Frank proposing the idea, he’d agreed. 

“Alright. Are you ready?” They were in their usual place - the barren lakeshore they’d practiced duelling. She didn’t know why she was asking him why he was ready, she was the one who should be preparing herself. 

@auror-frank​

—

Frank had intended to keep training with Marlene. She had been good in some ways the last time they had trained together; she definitely had power behind all of the hexes she tossed, which was—at least in the case of someone who was more of a free agent than an Auror—actually to her benefit here. Aurors needed a little more restraint; if there were bystanders, they had to aim and shoot for exactly who they were coming after. There was this emphasis on making sure that no one got hurt, which Frank understood—and he didn’t abide by these rules unwillingly.

What Marlene needed to work on, as far as he was aware, was stealth. That element of surprise that could give her an advantage of precious seconds. He had a plan, sort of—though he had imagined that most of what he was going to do was try and talk her into practicing what she wasn’t already good at. It might have gone better than trying to convince her that simpler charms would be helpful sometimes—he wanted to tie that into it, though starting with saying that the disarming charm was helpful was probably not going to build his case.

He wasn’t sure he should be surprised by the letter she had written him, and thank gods that Alice hadn’t been the one to receive that owl. The most shocking part of it was her suggestion to use dark magic—unforgivables.

It was illegal, but Frank found himself skimming the letter over and over; he hadn’t immediately dismissed the idea, and he didn’t do much to fight it. Typically he had been a rather moral person, abiding by the rules, not toeing the line, not rocking the boat. He had been fine doing this, rarely acknowledging the fact that he held so much privilege that kept him safe from harm. There were people who made safe choices and had come out of it worse off.

He remembers telling Marlene that she just needed to get away with it. He doesn’t regret giving her that advice. What he might regret is the consequence of going through with helping her do this—but who was he to say no to someone who had just lost her entire family?

Unforgivable curses were not beyond his realm of expertise—there was a predictability about them that made Death Eaters a little easier to track, easier to arrest—but he had never tried these curses on anyone. On the other hand, there were other, more cruel, more grotesque curses—if only because they lingered longer, tearing one’s mind and body slowly, until one would rather just die than deal with carrying it with them.

Still, they weren’t called Unforgiveable for a reason.

What in the name of the gods was he thinking, agreeing to this? When he wrote her back, when he penned the appointment in his planner, when he had come to that lake shore they had called their training ground.

He Apparated to the spot, though perhaps unwise not to tell his wife what he was up to. But if they were talking about the unforgiveable curses—he was sure there were two that didn’t have lasting effects. He’d make it back to the house, or the office, or wherever he needed to go to next. He wondered if he would have to make it clear that they were not going to practice the Killing Curse, but that much was obvious.

There was an edge to Marlene’s voice when she asked him if he were ready—and he hadn’t been. There’s no preparing oneself for this, an act of violence against another person—but even Frank needed to know what he was truly getting into. Would it be kinder to let her go first? It felt cruel to use it on her—period. But even Frank had that sick curiosity, though he wasn’t sure this was the safest of spaces to try and figure it out—but Marlene had come to him, and she had been the only one willing.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” But his voice was thick, as if it had trouble escaping him. He couldn’t show his reluctance now, as he fished the wand out of his hand. There didn’t seem to be a point though; no shield charm could block any of these curses, and the most he could try to do was to dodge. But he hadn’t come here for that. Perhaps there had to be an inevitability in this war that Frank would finally have to deal with all of this in person.

Narcissa just raised an eyebrow at him. She wouldn’t have told him if she was struggling anyway. She wasn’t friends with Frank Longbottom, and she was not going to ever be friends with him. He really did not need to know her personal life. And frankly, she really did not think he cared too much. “Like I would tell you Frank. We’re not friends.” She mused, with a shrug. She wouldn’t tell many people that much intimate things, let alone someone she wasn’t friends with.

“But yes. I know about adoption.” And she wasn’t against it. Every little boy and girl deserved to have loving family. If she struggled to get pregnant she would not be against adopting. But Narcissa did actually want to try and have a baby first. At some point. She still thought she was young, and she didn’t want to have a baby too young. She wanted to enjoy her life first.

Narcissa just laughed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need to prove that I’m good at it to get custom.” That was what made a good potioneer. She didn’t have to prove that she was good, or that she was worth business. Her reputation did that alone. And she knew Frank must have known that, otherwise he wouldn’t have been here. Cissa also didn’t need to sell potions to make money. She had enough of that. Oh no. Narcissa made potions because she enjoyed making them.

Which was actually why she was going to agree to make the potion for Alice. She might not really like her that much, but at the end of the day she was family. And nothing was more important to her than Family. 

“I’m guessing you want an anti-sickness potion?”

—

“We’re not friends?” Frank tried to sound even a little surprised, but he was at the point where he probably wasn’t going to be convincing her much. “Aren’t we both part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight though?” As if that was a marker of a friendship—but Frank really just wanted the intricacies explained to him. He wanted that explanation of why he wasn’t a friend, even if they were on the same stratosphere that towered above wizarding society. ** **

Some wix were more equal than others. He wasn’t sure where he had heard that, but it made him grimace.

“Besides—even if you kept it to within your circle of friends—” And Frank emphasized friends, leaning in a little closer as he said it. “—how do you know who to trust? How do you know that no one’s going to go running off to the gossip rags for that bit of information—even if it exists or not?”

Frank didn’t have questions like those to keep him up at night. There wasn’t anything he had to hide, except for—well, technically everyone was hiding how much work they were doing for the Order. But how risky would that be, if they had been found out? 

There was an answer to that question that he didn’t what to find the answer to, otherwise he’d lose his cool in front of Narcissa Malfoy—not that she cared much for him anyway. He could be doing a handstand and singing the latest muggle hit on the radio and she couldn’t think of him any worse than she did now. People like here tilted their heads up and looked down from their noses at everyone lesser—and just about everyone was lesser. 

The fact of the matter was that the idea of Narcissa Malfoy not being able to conceive—whether it was true or not—the idea of it could be picked up and perpetuated by anyone within earshot. The truth didn’t matter to people, and most of what got published was sensationalism to sell papers. Perhaps it was a lie that called people to be so violent, to fight a fight on someone else’s behalf, based on empty promises of power.

“So—how exactly then did you get the reputation of being a good potionmaker? Why should someone choose you as opposed to someone different?” Frank was genuinely confused at her assertion that she didn’t need to prove herself. While it was evident that the Malfoys were so vastly wealthy that they probably didn’t need to work, it didn’t make sense why Narcissa did, other than having something to prove. 

A good potioneer needed to actually make potions. 

Reputation was nothing without the evidence.

Perhaps she couldn’t find a reason to say no. Not without sounding like the bigot she probably was, or perhaps they were lucky that they were pureblood. So Frank, perhaps not in his smartest move in an attempt to get something to help his wife get through feeling ill, had done what an Auror would do—continue to interrogate; ask more questions; get more answers.

As much as he thought he knew how much Narcissa Malfoy operated, a part of him wanted to be proven wrong. He leaned back, placing his hands on the counter gently. His expression softened, recalling those muggleborns, who more or less had to suffer at the hands of not only Death Eaters, but monsters who didn’t wear masks in the daytime. And so he asked his question, with so little caution because of what his privilege granted him: “If Alice had been anything else but pureblood, would you be giving her this potion? Or would—”

Sinistra wasn’t entirely sure whether or not she wanted to confide in Frank what she’d been working on. He wasn’t exactly her target audience for her newest piece of work. Although, she supposed there wouldn’t really be much harm, as he would find out soon enough. “If you must know,” She started, her tone clipped and impatient, “I’m researching werewolves. They’re a menace to society and we need more publications on the topic.” 

She wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react. In all honesty, she didn’t care how he reacted. His opinion on the topic wouldn’t sway her own. The decision to write this book had already been made, the publishing company was on board with it and things were already in the beginning stages. At this point, all she had to do was write the damn thing, which would be much easier if she didn’t have somebody interrupting her.

Rolling her eyes as he went on, Sinistra placed an elbow down on the table in front of her, and delicately rested her chin in her hand. It was quite obvious she wasn’t going to get rid of him so easily. If only they weren’t somewhere so public, or somewhere they needed to be speaking in hushed tones. She was realizing that it likely would have been a better idea to simply check the books out and bring them home with her. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. “No, not a sin.” Sinistra replied, “However, isn’t a conversation more fun when you have a willing partner?”

—

Frank raised a brow, mostly because he hadn’t expected her to answer. He knew some authors to be particularly possessive of their subject matter until they could profit from it, and the fact hat Sinistra hadn’t exactly greeted him with kindness in a library made her out to be someone similar. He didn’t think it was because she had any real issue with him specifically, other than being a mild nuisance. 

He had been taught to be polite, but it was a double-edged sword in the way that Frank knew how to toe that line. Sinistra was a friend—er, or rather, had been a friend—but she wasn’t someone that Frank had to be polite to. Not someone to be courted, not someone to try to impress, which was probably why he had wanted to be friends with her to begin with. 

What did surprise him though was the fact that he agreed with her on this. It wasn’t something the two of them had ever talked about, and he didn’t even realize that this was what her research entailed to begin with. If anything, Frank hadn’t actually read her previous work—he’d claim to be too busy, but a part of him didn’t want to read and be disappointed. 

On the other hand, she was right, and it was obvious: werewolves were the worst. 

“You’re not wrong. They just put everyone else in danger. Get in the way of one, and you’re pretty much doomed.” His own voice was soft—sympathetic, almost. They were just monsters among men, and there was no way to control them and no cure for what they were. 

He hadn’t had to encounter one at work, and he’d have to rely on his skills as an auror if he ever had to defend himself. But not everyone else was as good with a wand. He could say the same thing for Death Eaters too, that they were a menace to society… but what were werewolves but something just as awful, even if they didn’t have all the same agendas? To destroy wizarding society as they knew it?

She rested her hand on her chin, continuing to entertain him. Even if she decided to ignore him completely, he’d find some way to bother her. Even if he decided to sit quietly, the proximity was too close for her not to actually do anything. 

“How unwilling are you, Sinistra?” He asked with a smile, with a tone that betrayed the fact that he probably already knew the answer. But that wasn’t really the important part of what he wanted to get across in the meantime, gesturing to the books beside her whose titles he couldn’t read from the angle he had sat. “How much research have you finished on this, anyway?”