#7.8.79

“alice fortescue? well, i never!”

upon closer inspection, the figure in the training grounds is indeed alice. it had been a quiet day at work and sirius had decided to check the training grounds on a whim, hoping to find either frank or kingsley. but alice -- well, he’s hardly about to pass up a training partner. sirius walks faster until he’s nearly bounding for the targets. he hadn’t realized until now, but time passes quickly on the job: patronus, dueling, and field work practice following each other in quick succession. 

he eyes alice. they’re the same age, and he has to wonder. what does she know? what hasn’t he learned? sirius flips his wand and catches it again. it’s like he’s back in charms, waiting to see who will master the spell first -- he or alice. 

there’s phantom itches crawling up and down sirius’ limbs, remnants of the three thousand mosquitoes he’s swatted away, and really, he’s getting sick of this pointless vigil. he’s never known a death eater attack to occur in the same spot twice -- and it’s not like there’s any evidence left on site. the whole place is warded to the high heavens and all the action’s taking place within those wards anyway. which, sirius doesn’t have the clearance for. none of which explains why this insufferable reporter seems to think sirius has any more idea of what’s going on than she does. aren’t there other aurors she can ask? even if they’re all within the wards and out of her reach -- well, that doesn’t mean she has to make the last remaining hour of sirius’ shift more miserable than it already is. 

shifting subtly ( instinctively, he knows that this is not the person show weakness before, even if there’s mosquitoes everywhere ), sirius attempts an approximation of calm. he manages to stop himself from scowling but can’t control the muscle that’s been twitching in his jaw for the last five minutes.