found a new courage.

“   It’s not as if I’d forget all my training.   Though the days of wearing that little outfit might be over.   ”   Mustering a chuckle at the absurdity of the whole bit,   he can’t help but notice the reservation in his friend’s demeanor.   Not that he blames him.   It’s exhausting to keep up with the trivial daily tasks,   maintain the brave face.   Even   (   and especially   )   for Edgar.   Mind wanders to his godson   -   the bubbly little lad,   always giggling.   He thinks about the joy that he brings to everyone around them,   how easily he could have been taken,   and his heart aches.   “   I can only hope I’d be strong enough to do the same one day.   Really.   ”   And he knows in that instant that one day,   sooner rather than later,   that decision could very well be his to make.   “   Nothing to apologize for.   ”   He leans back in his chair,   coffee still relatively untouched,   idly cracking the knuckles on one hand.   “   They weren’t meant to be apart for long intervals,   those two.   ”

" Not the little outfit, ”  Frank replies with a roll of his eyes, a playful smile on his lips,  “ that’s my favorite part. ”  He takes another sip of his coffee as their conversation shifts, letting Edgar’s words settle in the space between them.  “ You will be. ”  His voice is firm as he speaks, no doubt in his mind that he and Greta would be amazing parents one day.  “ I just hope you’d never need to be. ”  He wanted the future for Neville - and for every kid - to be much lighter than the world they lived in now.  To not have to feel the weight of it on their shoulders, the same weight that causes Frank to feel older than twenty-seven.  But was it realistic to think that it would be fixed by the time his friends had a kid?  He doubted it.  Most days, the end of the war felt unreachable.  “ No, they weren’t. ”  There’s a fond smile on his face as he thinks about Alice and Greta, no matter how tense things might’ve been.  “ How have you two been?  Considering everything. ”

He’s not the best at reaching out these days.   Hell,   seeing Alice was happenstance in itself.   But he had meant to check in sooner   -   and then he and Greta learned some news of their own,   and he found himself altogether wrapped up in their little world again.   It felt selfish to be preoccupied that way.   Mixed up in his own surprise,   joy…   fear about what was to come while his best friend just had to send his own child away.   When a child had just been murdered.   Needless to say he’s glad when the owl comes,   and even more so when he realizes he can make it to the meeting with some time before his shift starts.   “   Knew I had some persuasion skills in me yet.   ”   It’s with a chuckle that he reaches out for the coffee,   taking a sip before speaking again.   “   Hell,   maybe I should’ve been an Auror myself.   Reckon it’s too late for a change in career path?   ”   Gesturing for his friend to take a seat,   Edgar studies the top of his cup for a moment,   wondering where to begin.   But as the silence settles,   his weak attempt at a joke only moments prior settling too,   he knows he has to say something.   Might as well be the truth.   “   You did the right thing you know.   ”   

“Maybe,” he answers, his thoughts going to his own persuasion skills that had failed them weeks before.  Still, he manages to laugh at Edgar. “And lose my favorite mediwitch? Wouldn’t want just anyone to patch me up.” Frank sits down in the chair, finding that he’s already exhausted before the day has had a chance to begin.  He listens to his friend - tries to let the words settle in, to really hear them - as his eyes watch the steam rise from his cup.  “I know,” he finally says after a few moments, reassuring himself more than anything.  As an Auror, he knew that it made the most sense for his son’s safety.  Alice and Frank are targets enough as it is, and would likely only grow.  Their son doesn’t need to pay the price for that.  Still, as a father, the idea of sending his son to a different country felt wrong.  He was his father - he should be safest with him.  “Just doesn’t always feel that way.”  He admits, taking a drink of his coffee, before looking at Edgar from across the table.  “Still, sorry that Alice and I haven’t been around that much. We’ll have to all get together. I know she misses Greta.” 

Evan didn’t care for his tone. He could easily remind him that he was still his senior but perhaps he should try his hand at playing nice. For now. Evan knew Frank was wary of him, all too aware of the problems he could cause. At least Carrow had kept his mouth shut about his involvement or his workplace would have been looking a lot different. Evan was always thorough when filing his paperwork and even as he saw Frank looking through them, he knew he wouldn’t find anything. That would be an embarrassing way of getting caught. “Well this one-” he tapped a folder, “Went cold. It’s not active anymore but of course any new leads will be pursued.” He tapped the other file, “This one is closed. The guy’s doing ten years in Azkaban for using the Cruciatus Curse on a Muggleborn” Evan knew they had the wrong man but turns out the Imperius Curse could make one believe their own guilt. “You’ll be able to find all the details of the rest of the cases in their files.” He paused for a moment, “If you tell me what you’re looking for I can try to be of more help.” 

The Order knew that they weren’t the only ones with people on the inside. And though Frank found himself growing more and more suspicious of all of his colleagues that he didn’t know well - Evan Rosier had always been on his list. Even if he found nothing in his search, he’d still rank higher than most. “Understood.” He stacked the files back into a pile, pulling one out so he could beginning his search. "You know what I’m looking for,” he answered, leaning back in his chair as he opened on up - the one that had apparently gone cold. “Anything we could’ve done better. Anything we might’ve missed. Anything that could somehow tie to any new and ongoing cases.” It wasn’t a lie, Frank had been sorting through his old files as well. Of course he planned to into any signs of loyalty to something outside of the Ministry - a left out note, perhaps. A date that didn’t match. A familiar name that seemed out of place. “Surely you understand why.” He didn’t even want to say Harry’s name, not in front of those he didn’t trust. “When innocent people are murdered, we have to reevaluate. Make sure we’re doing all we can. That we’re punishing the right people.” 

It’s too quiet in his house now. Neville isn’t there with his morning giggles ( or cries, depending on his sleep ) or his flailing hands spilling food all over their kitchen floor. Frank even misses his cranky screams, his little tantrums where he’d kick his feet and his face would turn bright red. It is, of course, only temporary. And he can’t spend much time missing his son without thinking about Lily and James, who can’t even hope that Harry will return. So, at every available moment, Frank has been pouring himself into his work. He arrives early, works through his lunch, and leaves long after most of his coworkers. It’s quite all-consuming; he hadn’t even realized how long it had been since he’d seen his mates, until Alice mentioned she had spoken with Edgar. His wife didn’t always need to encourage him to see his friends - but it was that, and finally swallowing his pride that caused him to finally send the owl. He knew he was a failure - but having to explain that to someone else? Not an intriguing subject matter, even for an old Gryffindor. “I’m only released for an hour, tops, Bones.” He winks, holding out Edgar’s coffee that he had already purchased for them as he approached. The least he could do for him meeting so early. “Think that’ll be enough to hold you over?”

A snort followed his use of Professor, although it was right on the mark for Frank Longbottom. She’d missed him, always had when he’d left the halls of Hogwarts. Of course, many students came and went, but there were those few that always stuck with her. When Frank and Alice had finally married, Minnie couldn’t contain her excitement. They were, if she’d ever seen one, the perfect match. 

“Frank, you’re an adult,” she said, raising a brow. “You may call me Minerva, if you so please.” Letting her hand fall from the broom, she turned to Frank with a soft smile. “It’s nice to see you too.” The rare moment of affection flew from her lips and Minnie cleared her throat before nodding her head towards the door. “It’s my happy place, I suppose.” Minnie’s eyes scanned the shelves, the racks of memorabilia, and the red and gold t-shirts that shone in the corner. Godric, did she miss Hogwarts. “But I was actually just about to leave. Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?” 

"Old habits die hard,” he told her with a shrug, an embarrassed grin pulling at his lips. The few times that he had addressed her as Minerva felt clunky leaving his lips, not being able to shake the feeling that he was going to get scolded at for it. But he was older now, knew it by the years that ticked on, the aching in his bones. He couldn’t help but grin wider at her admittance, knowing that the size of it would probably discourage her from admitting it ever again. “Just makes me nostalgic,” he mused, though he was glad she still had places she could seek out for happiness in all of this. “I was never the greatest Beater, but I can only imagine my attempts now would just be disappointing.” 

There had been days after graduation when a few of his mates would play Quidditch in an open field - the stakes had been much lower, the chases less dramatics - but he missed the joy he felt when flying on his broom for fun. When the rain felt simply felt cleansing, instead of making it harder to see the Death Eaters they were chasing. “I’d love one,” he answered with a nod, the smile still lingering, as he made his way for the door, holding it open for her. “Can’t stay long, though, I’m afraid. The Ministry will be expecting me soon.” 

Things would never be normal again. They both knew that as they sat side by side their fire-warmed room, surrounded by papers detailing the attack on their friends’ child. But they could be okay again - they would be. Alice wouldn’t let them fight like this again, she wouldn’t blame him for things far, far beyond his control. She had been angry before, and vicious. She was still those things, but no longer toward him or the world. Now, she had targets, goals, and bringing her family back together was one of them. Apologizing for herself was another.

As Frank’s arm came around her shoulder, Alice released a quiet sob. They had never been apart for so long before, not really. Even when one was sent away on a mission, they were still in contact. These past few days of radio silence, their only interaction during an interrogation, had taken its toll on her. And even with him now again by her side, she still found herself missing him, like they weren’t close enough yet, like they had wasted too much time apart. Alice breathed him in deeply as he nuzzled into her neck, leaving a gentle kiss in his hair right as she felt one of his own land on her neck. So in sync. They always had been. When they first met at Hogwarts, Alice was immediately smitten with the Gryffindor boy who raised his hand at the same time as her, who had the same ideas and answers, who picked the same food off the tables in the Great Hall. They were two parts of one whole - and they had created from themselves a third piece. He’s here, he’s okay, she told herself over and over, as if she would suddenly wake up to the same news the Potters had recieved.

Alice held his gaze, unwavering, unwilling to disconnect again. His warm brown eyes met her dark ones, as they had done so many times before, so many emotions swarming beneath. There were conversations to come, but now, she just wanted to be with him, with their family. “I love you, too. Forever. Always.” The words were hurried, desperate. Over these past few days apart, she almost convinced herself that she had hurt him so badly that he stopped loving her. Hearing it again…she would never take those three words for granted again.

A soft smile found itself onto her lips as Frank adressed Neville now. The little boy didn’t have a clue what was happening. He didn’t understand why their parents were so upset, or why he hadn’t seen them for days. Neville’s joy at being there with both of them was enough to repair her broken heart. “Our little peanut,” she said fondly, running a hand through the boy’s hair, her other finding Frank’s shoulder. After allowing them that moment of peace, she finally mustered up the courage to say what she had been holding back. “I’m sorry. Please…please forgive me for…for everything I said and for keeping him from you. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t your fault. It…he’s safe. And we’re here. That’s what’s important right?”

It was jarring - being united as a family again, after the time they had spent apart. It hadn’t been more than a few days, he knew, but with everything that had happened, it felt much longer. The image of the three of them cuddled together on their bed almost felt like it had no place in their current state - but he also knew it was the only place that he felt truly whole. His mind wandered to the Potters, who would never feel whole again. How do they return home, after something like this? How do James and Lily arrive at their house that feels quiet, cold, and broken and continue on? Do they always listen for soft baby cries from an unused room, do they keep the crib and toys that no longer serve a purpose, do they have the strength to look at each other in the eyes? The questions, and the answers too dark for him to consider, weigh heavily on Frank. 

The only thing that pulled him out was his wife’s hurried voice - his anchor, always and forever. He knows that Alice loves him. Knows it to the very core of him. Yet there’s still some warmth that rises within him when she repeated his statement, his vow to her. It allowed him to turn his attention from her back to their little boy, whose chubby fingers grasped as his as he sat upright. He wanted to vow so much more than love to Neville - protection, happiness, future. He had failed. He had failed as an Auror, failed as an Order member, as a friend. Now he was failing as a father, unable to protect Neville from everything around them. 

Frank listened as she ushered out an apology - knowing without a doubt that she had meant it, and hoping that he would be able to truly forgive it. “I know,” he said with a nod, licking his lips that had gone dry. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, that it hadn’t hurt him, that her voice hadn’t echoed thoughts already in his head. But he didn’t want to lie to her. “I forgive you,” because he had, mostly, and he knew that he would. “I’m sorry that I -” his words get caught in his throat - sorry that he wasn’t a better partner, better husband, better father. But he focused on her words, focused on the little boy squirming in his lap and his wife in his hold. “You’re right. That’s what’s important.” 

They were safe. For now. And now that Neville was back in their care, with his parents, the place he was supposed to be the safest - Frank couldn’t calm his thoughts. Though he missed his son incredibly the few days he was away and still thought about him every second, he had felt less worried about his safety. “It’s going to get bad again,” he said, rubbing his hand softly on Neville’s back. It wasn’t meant to scare her, or to act is if he knew anything - he said it because this was war, because it was always coming. The question he knew he needed to ask sat in his throat, clawing through his pride and fear and own desires. “Are we what’s best for him right now?” 

who: @frnklongbottom​ where: auror offices  when: theyre working late cos a child was Murdered :/

The Auror Department was trying to do some form of damage control after everything that had happened. That was all well and good and exactly what Evan was expecting. It wasn’t like anyone could say Evan wasn’t invested in what he did. The Aurors were revisiting some old cases as an attempt to look as if they were getting anything done. The whole thing was desperate really but Evan could play along. Longbottom had asked him for some of his old case and Evan knew there was nothing in them but he wasn’t going to stop the man. He pushed open the door to Frank’s office without knocking, placing the files on his desk, “These are the ones you asked for.” 

Amycus Carrow hadn’t said Evan Rosier’s name during their interrogation, but it did nothing to sway his opinion or make him trust his coworker. Maybe the kid hadn’t known him, or maybe they just hadn’t asked all of the right questions with their limited time. Still, the failures of the past week weighed heavily on Frank’s shoulders, desperate to work until he found information that would help The Order. Even though no matter how much work he did, Harry Potter would not return. “Rosier,” he told him with a nod as the wizard entered his office, moving the files closer to him and checking that there wasn’t a report missing. They were all there, but Frank wasn’t sure they hadn’t been altered or fabricated to begin with. He still planned to study them closely, look for any sign that Evan had acted on his own allegiance rather than with the Aurors. “Anything you’d like to point out or note before I revisit them?

who: open starter.

“What in the world…” Minerva McGonagall was not used to interruptions on her daily commute. No, floo was always quicker (and a bit less jarring) than apparating, and it was rare that she would end up in the wrong fireplace. Today, though, it seemed the world had a different plan for her. Diagon Alley lay before her and she almost laughed at the thought of ending up here. It seemed her brain really needed a break; a distraction. Of course, that didn’t mean she should be here, but she also didn’t quite want to leave. And so, that’s how Minnie ended up in Quality Quidditch Supplies, smiling softly at a broom that she wished she could buy, but decided against. After all, this was war. Why should she have something new and shiny when people were dying? Her heart ached for James and Lily then, and it took her a second to collect herself and realize someone was staring at her. She turned, raising a brow at the person. “You know it’s impolite not to say hello,” she said. 

There was no need for Frank Longbottom to be in the quidditch supply store anymore. He had interviewed the shop owner, going over a few key questions about the Easter Festival again - but that had ended minutes ago. Still, he wandered around the shop, dreaming of his quidditch days until he almost ran straight into his former Head of House. Seeing her always took him back to his days at Hogwarts. Days where he’d run along in the corridor, chasing a certain Hufflepuff, even as McGonagall called after him to slow down. Though he’d always complain about her Transfiguration classes, it was no secret that Frank always looked up to the brilliant witch. "Sorry, Professor. Hello.” It was hardly necessary to call her by her title anymore, hadn’t been for many years now, but it slipped out as she pulled him from his memories. “Just good to see you, is all.” It hadn’t been that long but there was something desperate pulling at his heart, finding comfort in a woman who had always known what to say. Always gave the best advice, even when he wasn’t listening. And damn did he need her stern opinions now more than ever. “What brings you in here?” 

A week later, and Kingsley couldn’t believe he was back in Frank’s kitchen, feeling worse than he had before. Was anyone suspicious of him? Yes, Kingsley thought they were suspicious, but everyone was suspicious of everyone in the Death Eaters. They weren’t following him or suspecting that he was sharing information with The Order, but they also weren’t giving him any information either. Kingsley had no idea that they were going to murder the boy. If he had known, if they had trusted them with the information, Kingsley could have protected him. The matter of the fact was, they didn’t trust Kingsley enough yet for him to be useful, and The Order was paying for it now. Especially James and Lily.

“I’m so sorry… For everything,” Kingsley said, leaning against Frank’s kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to focus on something other than the hurt man In front of him. “I should have been able to do something. That’s what I’m there for! That’s why I’ve taken this rubbish Dark Mark on my arm! It’s not enough and I’m not doing enough. That poor, innocent boy paid price, much too heavy, because I am inadequate!” His voice wasn’t anything louder than a whisper, but guilt dripped heavily from his words.

What Frank would give to go back a week in time. To be standing in this same kitchen, with the same wizard. Only that time they had been talking and planning as if they would get Harry back. They were afraid, yes, but they also had a sliver of hope. Now what did they have? A baby who would never grow up, parents who would forever grieve, shaken trust in The Order and its members. The only way that he had gotten through the week was because of his family. One that he felt so relieved and guilty for having united. Still, he had spent countless minutes just watching Neville as he slept, his heart aching for Harry. 

He trusted Kingsley. He did. He just had to keep reminding himself that, as he stood across the room of a man with the Dark Mark on his arm. Frank couldn’t let this start to divide The Order or they’d crumble within, just like they wanted. “It’s not -” his voice cracked, clearing his throat - would there ever be a time he could speak about it without getting choked up? “It doesn’t just fall onto you, Kingsley.” It fell onto the lot of them. It fell onto Frank. What good was an Auror if he couldn’t help them catch the Death Eaters? Still, he collapsed into his seat at the kitchen table, running his hands through his hair. “We weren’t prepared.” And it cost them the life of a little boy. 

It had been days - days - since neither she nor Frank had seen their son. They agreed, in anger and grief, that it would be best for him to stay with her parents until Harry was found. That was how they worded it - until. As if it were a certainty that the toddler would be found safe and sound, returned to his parents with a sleepy smile on his lips. They had taken that assumption for granted. And until that was realized, Neville would be safe and well-cared for so the couple could focus on their work. It was their duty as aurors and Order members to find Harry, to enforce the law upon those who kidnapped him. They failed. They would be attending a child’s funeral, rather than celebrating his return. Because she couldn’t save him, because she couldn’t extract the right information, because of a thousand other reason that had been swimming in her head since the news reached her ears.

The pictures in her office were either turned around on walls or tucked away in drawers. They had been since that first night, when she left Frank alone in their home while she worked through until dawn. A room that was once full of Neville giggling, and Frank grinning, and the three of them together happy, was now void of any personal touches. She couldn’t get work done with the sight of them clouding her thoughts. But now…now all she could think about was Harry. And how lucky she was that Neville was this alive and happy. That she had the option to go home and be with her family, to fight for it to stay whole. For the first time in several days, she chose that option.

Picking up Neville from her parents’ house took longer than expected. It was meant to be a quick trip so she could get back to Frank as quickly as possible, to apologize for her anger and coldness. But, when her mother asked what happened, Alice broke down. She cried in a way she hadn’t done since she was a little girl and her mother held her until she was done. Then she was home, standing in their fireplace with the squirming little boy in her arms. And one by one, she climbed the stairs to their bedroom, to the reparation of their family. There, she found Frank on the bed. “Hey,” she said quietly, as Neville squealed in delight at the same time. Gently, Alice approached and set their son in her husband’s lap and took the seat beside him.

Harry had been murdered. They interrogated Amycus, got names of other Death Eaters, got leads from Albus. And yet, in the end, it hadn’t matter. The little boy had been killed. As an auror and member of The Order, death was not knew to Frank. This was war that they were fighting in. But for some reason - whether it was denial, fear, hope, he didn’t know - he had believed that they would bring Harry Potter home. The little boy that his own son had once played with. It was all personal, all of the fighting and all of the killing, but it was all too easy for Frank to replace the story with Neville. They knew the risks of bringing a child into their war, but the risk hadn’t seemed real. Not until it was announced that they killed James and Lily’s son. And for what? To show their power? To show their ruthlessness? Just to make a point? Frank had been pouring over various files even after he returned to his empty home after work. It was only empty, he reminded himself, until Alice returned with Neville. They would both return. 

The files did not contain any new information to Frank, but he scanned through them nevertheless. Maybe to quiet his thoughts, maybe to see what he had been missing. It was obvious they were missing something. It could’ve been information that they simply overlooked, or maybe misunderstood. He was flipping through old parchment when his wife returned home, the files floating to his bedside table within a matter of moments. He could deal with those in the morning. Right now, he would try to face his family. There was a relief too much to bare when the two people he loved the most entered the room. His heart, which felt like it had been torn in three parts since the Easter festival, was coming back to him. 

Once Neville was placed on his lap - chubby cheeks pushed out from his smile, little fingers gripping onto his sleep shirt - it was too much. “Hey,” he replied in a shaky breath, a smile on his face to not concern his son, as his eyes welled up. His arms scooped him up into his chest, holding him tighter and tighter. Neville was safe, he was alive, he was with his parents. It wasn’t until the little boy started squirming in his hold, unaware of the thoughts going on in his mind, that he pulled back slowly. He poked at his father’s face, fingers getting wet from the tears, giggling as he looked up into his eyes. It almost broke his heart, seeing his son look at him like that. Frank wished he could be the man that Neville saw. One without scars from battles, shame from his mistakes, grief from his failures. A father, not a soldier. 

There was no erasing the years of duels, of torture, from his skin. He knew that. Alice knew that. And yet...there she was, sitting next to him on their bed, closer than she had been to him in days. She knew what he had done, what he had not done. And she was here, loving him anyway. “Hey,” he finally greeted her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer, needing to be near her. His head fell into her neck, breathing her in as he tried to steady his heartbeat. He kissed her softly on her skin, before pulling back up to his full height. There, he looked at her, her eyes staring into his. “I love you.” He wanted to say more - to say sorry for failing her as a a husband, as an Auror partner. For not doing enough to get Harry home. For feeling guilty that they had Neville in their arms, when Harry would never return to James and Lily’s. But he was exhausted and he knew that those apologies would come. Right now he wanted to be with his wife and their son. The little boy tugged on his shirt, squealing up at them. “And I love you.” 

Marlene Mckinnon may have reached her breaking point. She was consumed by pain and there was a nagging little voice in the back of her head telling her she should have stayed dead. She believed it. If she would have stayed dead, she wouldn’t have had to face the consequences of losing a brother. She wouldn’t have to mourn her godson or blame herself for not being there to save him. Why did she get to live, but Maxi and Harry had to die? It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t their battle to fight. The auror walked into the Three Broomsticks like she owned the place. She always did, but this was different. There was fury behind her blue eyes, and people seemed to notice it because they moved out of her way as she made her way straight to the bar she used to work behind. She grabbed as many bottles as she could hold in her arms, then turned around with every intention of leaving but someone was in her way. “No.” She said firmly as her death stare landed on the person in front of her. “Tonight I’m drinking alone.”

There had been many deaths, attacks, and tortures, that Frank Longbottom tried to erase from his mind. He had tried repressing them, even drowning them. It might’ve worked for a moment - a brief moment of peace - before everything collapsed on him even harder. The only way out was through. A statement he had hated in his early years as an Auror, but one that he clung to now. He had to remember the failures - they had to serve a purpose, to drive them forward. They would make it through. They had to. He wasn’t surprised when he heard that Marlene had made her way to The Three Broomsticks, calls out to her going on deaf ears. And while he might not be the person she wanted to listen to, or even cared to listen to - she was a fellow Auror and a fellow Order member. He had failed her, failed her brother, failed James and Lily, failed Harry. Failed all of them. The least he could do was remind her that she wasn’t alone. "This is your plan?” He asked, referring to the bottles gripped in her hand. standing his ground against the girl who had dealt with too much, much too quickly. He wasn’t judging her for whatever she chose to cling to, but he doubted soft words would do anything for the girl. “It’s not going to help.” 

Kingsley frowned with a small nod of his head. So they had a lot of nothing so far. At least, not enough to make a difference for the poor boy. Dumbledore had reached out pretty quickly after he learned of what had happened, but Kingsley didn’t have anything at that point. Just whispers that a meeting would be called and that ‘they’ had the boy. Who ‘they’ was, Kingsley wasn’t quite sure as of now. The real question bothering Kingsley was ‘why the boy’? Sure, it was probably in retaliation to the capture of a Death Eater, but why pick a child? What value did this child have that an Order Member with actual secrets and leverage did not? Kingsley couldn’t quite figure it out. 

With a sigh, Kingsley grabbed the mug of tea and took a long sip. “I wouldn’t say confident. Then again, the second I get confident is the second I get comfortable. The moment I get comfortable will be my downfall in all of this mess.” It hadn’t been easy, but no one suspected anything yet. His father dealt in shady enough business, and Kingsley had already taken the mark. His mind wandered absently to the tattoo on his arm. He hated it. It was disgusting, but the quickest way to gain trust at the moment. “I just need to be careful. Make sure I’m not seen with the wrong people or heard sharing sentiments that don’t align with those of the Death Eaters.”

It was frustrating, doing an interview with Amycus Carrow when Frank knew that he had no useful information on where to find the young boy. They were able to confirm names of various Death Eaters, presumably high amongst the ranks, which would surely be Frank’s next mission once they brought Harry Potter home. But he wasn’t convinced that the higher up Death Eaters would have anything to do with the kidnapping of the child. If they wanted information and anything useful, they would’ve taken Arabella. Frank had learned over the years, though, that sometimes striking fear into their enemies was the only goal the corrupted wizards needed. He didn’t want to give them that satisfaction, letting fear control his actions - but found it was nearly impossible, as a father during all of this, to not be afraid. 

Frank felt his thoughts spiraling, until Kingsley’s sigh brought him back to his kitchen, his hand wrapped around the warm mug and the other gripping his wand. They had a capable wizard like Kingsley, who was on the inside. They had talented Aurors like his wife that would not stop until she found who was responsible. They would win. They had to. “You have to be,” he responded with a nod, confirming Kingsley’s statement, knowing that he didn’t have any other choice but to be careful. The end was certain if he was found out by the wrong people. It felt like a risk having him in his home - it was safe, of course, but they thought Arabella’s place was safe, too. “Have you noticed anyone getting suspicious? Any side comments? Unwilling to meet with you?”

Her tendency to look on the brighter side of things had meant that she had spent her entire life never believing in the worst in people. She had always maintained that there would surely be some things that were off the table, places and people that the Death Eaters wouldn’t target. But she’d been wrong and that was no easy thing to deal with when it meant that her whole world view was shaken. Between that and her overwhelming concern for her patients, Frank’s appearance couldn’t have come at a better time with her weariness settling in and threatening to take control. Maybe it had been somewhat selfish of her to dupe him into coming with her but she figured that he would need this just as much as she did. “I’m sure you can.” A few rearrangements were nothing for a wizard of his capabilities after all. “Thank you for this, I really appreciate it.” Small smile touched her lips, expression incredibly sincere when she knew that he was someone she could trust without question. Smile turned slightly more apologetic. “And sorry for tricking you, I just had a feeling you might have said no otherwise.”

Frank needed to return to his son, relieving Arabella from babysitting duties. He needed to search for his wife, confirming that her injuries weren’t serious. He needed to return to his work, knowing Auror duties never stopped. But what good could he do for any of them - exhausted and aggravated? He knew that he was probably doing no good for Greta, but he was quite desperate for a cup of tea. Her calming personality wasn’t a bad addition, either, and she was equipped to handle his sour one ( though she normally didn’t have to, most of their interactions surrounded by smiles of their partners. ) “No, thank you,” he replied with a nod as he followed her into their break room, trying to put his anxious thoughts at ease. He knew that if he had run into any other healer, he would’ve likely ran around the hospital until he passed out. Then he’d really be no help to anyone. “You’re right, of course.” Frank let a small smile pull at his lips as he pulled out the closest chair for her, sitting down in the one next to it. On dark days like this, after hours of battle, he was used to his body collapsing in the chair, full exhaustion taking over. But he hadn’t fought, his muscles weren’t tired. The exhaustion was only in his head.  “I’m glad you’re safe. Have you seen Edgar yet?”