Unbroken Bones

This was not Arabella’s home.

Ordering the coffee was easier than trying to find the cafe. Arabella had been working out a Plan B in case the poor barista was as confused as they were over Amelia’s order, but in the end there was no need for any sort of work around. The drinks, and a plate of frosted biscuits, arrived at the counter just as Arabella was pulling coins out of their pocket to pay. Their money was waved away by the person at the register with some strange mention of Miss Bones’ account. Arabella frowned for a moment but did not press the matter, they would find another way to pay their old friend back for the drinks.

A pair of plush chairs opened up just as Arabella turned from the counter with two paper cups in hand, they quickly made a beeline for the seats. Just as Arabella placed the cups onto the table between the pair of purple chairs a man in long elegant robes and The Prophet tucked under his arms approached and sank into one of the seats. “Excuse me sir, but these seats are taken. My friend will be right down.” Arabella said, trying to correct his understanding of the situation. The man looked up as he unfurled the paper, his eyes raked up and down Arabella’s tall frame before replying. “We don’t need two of your kind lounging about, Figg.” He said, their last name sounded like something nasty rolling off his tongue, and had they less composure it would have sent a visible shiver running down Arabella’s spine.

She gritted her teeth as she wove her way through the crowd toward the pair, narrowing her eyes when she recognized the man in her chair. Omar Shafiq -- not one of the Sacred Shafiqs, but he was the type that was all too happy to allow people to make the wrong assumption. A social climber with a fat bank account and a fatter ego. Amelia despised him. 

“Would you perhaps like to try that again?”

Arabella could handle themself, of that Amelia had no doubt, but in this situation things could go from bad to worse in a heartbeat. As much as she would love to watch Figgy give this pompous piece of shit a well deserved smack down, the wiser choice was for her to step in. 

“You’re probably right. I have noticed that they have a tendency to think they’re better just because they don’t have the double X gene. Height would just give them an additional reason to try and beat you up, you are right in not giving them one.” Finally she smiled too. “I guess they give a nice plus to a woman’s rear, yes. Although I wouldn’t pay attention to that, honestly. I’ve never been attracted by women.”

She sat at the table and took the cup that was offered to her, blowing lightly on the hot liquid. She had always liked the sensation of the warm mug in her hands, especially in cold winter nights. It was nice to see that the woman was following her reasoning. It didn’t happen often.

“That’s exactly what I am working at. I’d like to help people in that sense. Not that I think they have something lacking compared to us, but I have noticed they seem to feel like that. I suppose they would be happy to know there is something that could be done.”

“Oh.” Minerva raised her brows, her forehead creasing. She had missed the irony in Amelia’s words. “I understand what you mean. I love my job but sometimes my interns drive me crazy. They can be both very clever and very stupid. And getting funding from the Ministry is always a true ordeal. I just spent a week going back and forth with paperwork, showing my achievement and justifying every single expense I made. It distracts me from my work. I don’t know how they think I can get anything done like that.”

She let the topic of her seemingly impractical footwear drop, focusing instead on the technology being developed by the professor. “No wonder there are those more traditional folks within the Ministry who see technology as a threat. If any muggle off the street could gain access to technical magic, well, that would change everything. Am I correct in assuming that this would not be limited to those born into magical families who lacked the capacity to perform their own magic?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “The implications could be enormous. I mean, a house elf can already perform magic that witches and wizards cannot -- apparation inside of hogwarts, for example -- imagine if they were further enhanced by the technology. Assuming it could be tweaked to work with their biology. The possibilities are enormous. Have you thought of ways to keep the technology from being abused?” 

“I do not fetch, Amelia,” Alice retorted contritely, letting each word roll from the tip of her tongue like a bullet. It was a tone Amelia would recognize immediately; it was a tone that spelled ‘danger’ for anyone caught between the jaws of the small pitbull Amelia compared her to. “I am not a dog, Amelia. I am your friend who is seriously concerned that your bits are going to shrivel up and fall off if they don’t see a little action some time this decade.” 

“My bits are none of your concern and I’ve had action this decade. I think. Shit, I don’t even know. Not important. The point is, I’m busy and I don’t have time for this nonsense,” she retorted, giving a sharp nod of approval when she saw Alice finally had a drink in her hand. 

Sighing to himself, Tom considered the pros and cons of just getting rid of his phone altogether at the second text from a number he didn’t recognise in as many days. Still, there was no harm in having a little fun with it before he made any major decisions.

There tends to be a moment when he receives a message that he contemplates ignoring it, but he knew it oculd be important so he picked it up instead. Without glancing at the preview the screen offered he opened the message when he saw Amelia’s name. What plans? Had they made plans for Friday. Wait. He really should read texts more carefully. E? Who is E? He eyed the keypad on his phone, no K and E certainly weren’t next to each other. Why in the hell was he still analyzing someone else’s text from Amelia. 

Sighing to himself, Tom considered the pros and cons of just getting rid of his phone altogether at the second text from a number he didn’t recognise in as many days. Still, there was no harm in having a little fun with it before he made any major decisions.

Narcissa did not often get messages from unknown numbers. Anyone who was anyone found some way to get into her phone. She frowned at her phone and contemplated.

What ringtone my muse has set for yours: “No Scrubs” by TLC. 

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts: It’s exactly the way Alice does, except with perhaps fewer vicious barbs. They both spend more time cussing about something that happened at work than anything else. 

How quickly my muse responds to your texts: Immediately. Amelia is never a chore. 

How often our muses text: Daily.

How often our muses call: Calls are for emergencies only– or “I’m wasted, come rescue me” calls. 

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours: No. Amelia never calls unless she needs something, and she’s bailed Alice out often enough that the least Alice can do is return the favour. 

“They would make perfect biracial children, Alice knew, and to deprive the world of such beauty was an ultimate injustice.” [x]

Few things was stubborn Alice more sure of than the fact that Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt were meant to be together. 

Alice was generally convinced that matchmaking and the meddling in the love lives of others was a deplorable activity. Beds– and who rolled about in them with whom– were the business of those doing the rolling and no others. She rarely gossiped about who was getting married, divorced, together, splitting up, cheating on, screwing around with– but Amelia and Kingsley, bless their hearts, were meant to be. 

What ringtone my muse has set for yours:

What contact photo my muse has set for yours:

What my muse thinks of the way yours texts:

How quickly my muse responds to your texts:

How often our muses text:

How often our muses call:

Does my muse purposefully miss calls from yours:

“You know, 80 per cent of your height is determined by your genes, or better by the combined effort of many of them, and a single genetic variation can have a deep influence on that. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your genetic.” She didn’t really think that a person’s height or size made a difference.  “I have never bothered with that to be honest, but I must admit I have been granted a good DNA combination.” The Professor shrugged.

“Well, actually, yes.” She was always surprised when someone was sharp enough to detect so quickly the implications of her job. It wasn’t like everybody. But again, Amelia didn’t seem to be just ‘anybody’. Her position at the Ministry spoke for her intelligence. “Very similar to wandless magic, although we still need an integration to make it work, for now. I managed to transfigure myself thanks to one of those chips, without the need for a wand. But I still need to launch an app on my smartphone to make it work.”

When the bomb was mentioned, Minerva pursed her lips. It had been a really bad plan, that one. They should have talked to her, but Moody hadn’t really understood that when she had gone to talk to him. She wasn’t an expert in explosives either, but for sure she knew something more about Chemistry than they did.

“I always like to remind people that the tools themselves are never evil. People are evil and can use tools in the wrong way, making bad things happen. But the tools can’t just move by themselves and harm people.” Minerva smiled again “Sounds quite tough to deal with that sort of people all the time. You must be a very patient person.”

The kettle started to whistle as the other woman explained about the way she had integrated technology and transfiguration. Amelia listened intently as she finished making the tea and moving things over to her small kitchen table so they could sit. “That’s fascinating. In theory, then, could someone who might not be able to use a wand use this kind of technology?” she asked, thinking of people like Arabella who had been denied magic by some odd twist of fate and genetics.