Emmeline

Moody had been on edge at every event since the cup. Even if he wasn’t there as part of work, he still felt like he was on duty. Today was no different. He had his eye out for anything out of the ordinary or anyone who seemed like they could be up to something.

He did need to enjoy himself sometimes too though. But unfortunately the game had not been as enjoyable as he had wanted. He figured he could win a prize and give it to Neville or one of the Weasleys or even the first child he saw when he won. 

He wasn’t winning though and that was what kept bothering him. 

He turned and narrowed his eyes at Vance, his body still tense from the aggravation the game had brought him. “I am a highly trained Auror. I should be able to win a child’s game.” He turned to the game one last time than stepped away to let the queue continue. He had a feeling the person manning the booth had gotten tired of him. “Competitive spirit got ahold of me I guess. What are you doing?”

“Even one jinxed to only let people win them when the queue is in such doubt that it’s possible that they are ready to abandon it?” Emm shook her head. “Who knew that Alastor Moody was exactly the sort of person they make these games like that for. The ones who’ll keep pouring money into it even though the odds of winning are so horribly low, just because you feel you have a point to prove.” She steered him towards a game where the only goal was to hex a moving target. “If you’re so determined to win something, then I think this one might be more your steam. It’s actually based on skill instead of sheer dumb luck.”

She shrugged at his question and looked around them, eyes seeking out any dodgy-looking characters. “Keeping an eye out. I’ve never been one for Valentine’s Day but I wanted to be here just in case.” Even when she was in relationships for it, she would rather treat it like any other day. She found it put an awful lot of pressure on couples for something that was so overly-commercialised.

Who: Open

Where: One of the games

When: February 14, Any time during the event

Moody could be called a lot of things: obsessive, observant, cynical, uptight, opinionated. He had been called all of those things and more in his days. One thing a lot of people didn’t know about him was how competitive he was.

“One more,” he urged the worker at the booth. This was about the tenth time he had tried this particular game and the queue behind him was starting to get restless. Moody was pretty sure the employee considered him his sworn enemy now. “It’s rigged,” he said gruffly, turning to the people behind him. The worker tried to get him to move along. “Do you really think anyone is supposed to win this? Look at the hole that you’re supposed to get the snitch into. It’s not nearly the right size!”

Emmeline wasn’t so much there to enjoy the day but because she didn’t trust the idea that an event like this would go completely smoothly. When was the last time it had? Even the Halloween party, which had seemingly gone okay, had ended with Isaac’s capture. It didn’t matter how many whispers or rumours or moles from in the Death Eaters confirmed that there was nothing planned for the evening, Emm just didn’t trust that proclamation and so she was there, on her guard, one hand constantly on her wand.

She had expected to see Moody there but had rather expected him to be doing the same as her. Focused on the crowds, rather than distracted by games. Someone in the queue grumbled as she passed them but she had no intention to skip the queue to play the game. It seemed the Auror and senior member of the Order needed dragging away before he got himself in a fight with one of the carnival workers. "Of course it’s rigged. They always are at this sort of thing.” She didn’t much care if the people in the queue heard her. They would do better to not throw their money away on such things. “What are you doing? Do you really think the prizes are worth the aggravation?”

who: @unspeakablevance​ where: the ministry of magic. when: january 24th, 1983.

There weren’t many folks who frequented the Ministry. Especially not for fun, at least. Yet, in Edgar’s world, the Ministry housed two of his favorite people, and so that was why he was the easiest selection to visit the Ministry for the Order. It was the day after Isaac was freed, and a part of him was a bit nervous to see what the halls would look like, especially after the unrest from yesterday. Everything felt normal, though, as he made his way to the cafeteria. It was just before lunch, as he was instructed, and the Order member he was looking for was supposed to be sitting at the nearest table. 

When he spotted Emmeline, Edgar couldn’t help but smile, tapping her on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Mind if I join you?” he asked. “Moody is late, as per usual.” It was the excuse he’d said he would give, so Edgar hoped that it didn’t feel too out of the ordinary. Besides, they had to run this way; with secrets and half truths. Otherwise, someone would figure them out. A part of him was thrilled to be involved, because lately it had felt like nothing was moving forward. He was stuck in a war that seemed never ending; stuck in a war that sucked his soul from his. “Care for a chip?” he asked, pulling out his lunch and pushing the box across the table to her. The note lay inside obstructed from view by the fried food. 

Before the Order, Emm had spent even more time at the Ministry than she did now and perhaps that was why it had only made sense for her to do work for the Order within the Ministry. There was the extra work he did in the Department of Mysteries, of course, and the way she had engineered her research towards the needs of the Order, but beyond that she could blend in almost anywhere in the building without question. After all, her work could take her to any one of the departments for one reason or another (usually red tape or specialist knowledge) and she had the freedom, compared to a lot of other Ministry workers, to work to her own timetable rather than have to answer to a superior or risk somebody asking why she wasn’t doing what she was meant to be doing. After all, what she was ‘meant’ to be doing was top secret.

“You’ll be lucky to see him this side of six o’clock,” she commented with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t even eat lunch.” If anybody was watching there would be no way for them to tell there was anything more to the conversation as Emm carefully picked out a chunkier chip, eyes quickly scanning the note at the same time. “At least these are better than the last ones I had,” she said. “They were so burned I had to wonder if they had been taken through the Floo Network.” And there was the hidden reply highlighting which department they would find the person referred to in the note. “You know, perhaps it would be best if you just went to find Alastor and drag him away from whatever he is working from. With me, of course. I can’t just let you wander around the Ministry on your own, no matter who your sister is. Besides, I was heading that way after lunch.”

“Oh gosh. I’m glad it’s not just me….” Dorcas mused with a little laugh. She was a well known workaholic. She loved her job, but she really did need to work on her time management skills. “Yeah. I would say that” So she really should be doing that herself. She just had very little time. She was dedicated to her job, and she was dedicated to making their world a better place. That was worth a little over working. “I mean…..” She mused with a little grin. “I’m always up for social nights away from the order….” She was. She was a social person, even if she didn’t get much time to actually be social. “Oh? Yeah. That would be cool. Probably no more coffee though”

“Well then,” Even as Emm shrugged, she knew it wasn’t as simple as that. She could know perfectly well what the Healers would suggest to her but for Emm it never really was a case of poor time-management that made her work such long hours. It was simply that she could never think of anything else that was quite as important as her work, or at least until she had joined the Order she hadn’t been able to. And there was always more that could be done, in both places. “I meant I could cover for you sometime, but perhaps a social night would be good for us all. Although I couldn’t tell you how that would work.” It wouldn’t be the first time she had considered going out for drinks with friends from the Order, but it was something one had to be reasonably careful about. They had to be able to reasonably explain away their friendship in another way and then there was the added aspect that these were the people they fought with. Could they ever really relax with each other if they were constantly expecting to be caught on unawares? The last thing they needed was for the Death Eaters to get wind of the Order of the Phoenix being on a pub crawl. “No coffee,” she agreed. “Maybe some fresh air? There was a doughnut van just down by St James’s Park the other day. We could see if it’s still there.”

As utterly irritating as Ash could be, Aila had grown rather fond of the idiot – and that was thought with an aggravating amount of fondness, as the man was hardly unintelligent.  And she was rather annoyed at the fact that she missed him.

She was nearly halfway through her show when she heard the door to the studio open, and she jumped – not because she was scared, of course, but because she – she just hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be around; but when Emmeline Vance passed through the door her nerves evaporated and she offered her a broad smile.  Taking just a moment to send the show into a series of songs she pushed the microphone away and gestured to Ash’s empty chair.  

“Popping in here looking like a god damn angel,” she complimented,  “But why aren’t you asleep it’s –” she glanced at her wrist despite the fact she had never worn a watch in her life.  “well, it’s very late.”

Emmeline wasn’t a stranger to working late and even less of a stranger to taking night-shifts with the Order. It was easier to skip out on sleep than to worry about when she was ever going to be able to be useful to the Order when her work consumed so much of her life. Today had been one of those days, work from seven a.m. until gone six p.m. and then a quick bite to eat on the way to a stakeout house across from a building they suspected to be used by the Death Eaters. She took some books and notepads with her to continue her little side project into figuring out a way to connect wands to a crime scene without priori incantatum and was glad that she had because it was a quiet evening, no activity around the building at all. Perhaps they were using a secret entrance. Perhaps they just weren’t using that building at all.

By the time she was relieved from duty she knew she should go home to sleep but her joints had stiffened up from sitting in one place for so long and the last wideye potion she had taken was still in effect. Aila would still be up, she realised, and spending time with another person sounded like a good idea so she went to the WWN. There was nobody at the front desk and the lights in the corridors didn’t feel like they indicated anybody’s presence but there was more of a buzz when she got to the studio and there was Aila talking into the microphone. Emm tried to enter quietly, not wanting to interrupt the show but it still made the younger woman jump. She took a seat and smiled at the compliment. “I took a wideye potion. I’ll sleep when it wears off.” It didn’t really answer the question, she knew, but she wasn’t sure how private their conversation could be here. “So what have I missed so far?” she asked, gesturing at the microphone.

Dorcas was a terrible person, in that she was a terrible workaholic. She knew why she did it. If she was super busy with work, and with the Order, then she could distract herself from all the crap that was going on in her personal life. She couldn’t remember the last time she ahd seen Aleia, but the girl still crossed her mind so many times. It was frustrating, and so she just worked herself too hard. Dorcas just shrugged at the other. She didn’t know Emmeline too much, but they both worked in the Order, so she knew that the other woman was understand some of the things that were keeping her up at night. “I’m a chronic workaholic. Explains it all” She mused with a shrug. “If I’m not on a mission with the Order I’m at St. Mungos and I don’t do much else”

Emmeline couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a familiar situation to her. “I know how it is. I’ve been there. I am there pretty much every other day. But I’m sure if I ended up at St Mungo’s desperately ill, you would tell me I had run myself into the ground and I should have had a little ‘me’ time before it reached that point. At the very least you could be having your coffee sat down.” She shook her head, a smile on her face. “If you ever need a night off from the Order, just let me know. And if you have ten minutes or so now, maybe you’d take a break with me?” 

“I am literally running on like 2 hours sleep” Dorcas grumbled, taking a long gulp of the coffee that was in her hand. “And this is my 3rd coffee, and it is still not enough. So I really hope you’re not going to ramble on for too long because I really do not have the brain capacity”

Intelligence had always been the quickest way to spark her interest.  And ever since she noticed Emmeline Vance in the library back at Hogwarts she felt an sort of fondness for the younger girl.  Maybe they weren’t friends – she wasn’t sure – but they certainly danced along that line.  If nothing else, they worked well in proximity to each other, something Mia could say about very few people.  Emmeline was brilliant to bounce ideas off of, to check in with about branches of magic she was less familiar with.  And that was one of the reasons she felt so comfortable with Emmeline knowing her secret; it was harder to tell the people she was closest to.  She could count on Emmeline to give advice from a logical place and not an emotional one.

“Unless they didn’t care about what they left behind,” she shrugged.  “If taking all of his memories was acceptable loss it makes sense.”  

She sighed, pulling out the chair and sliding in across from Emmeline.  “Exhausted, but not terrible, how are you?”  She dug through her bag for a pen.  Quills were impractical.  “Perhaps.  Do you want to know it?  It’s not exactly helpful, as I’ve already passed it on – but I don’t want to give you  more than you… you want, I guess?”

“The problem is if they don’t leave anything behind, they can’t check exactly which actions were under the Imperius curse. Or find else what else he knows. Such as, perhaps, who used the Imperius curse on him. This is typical Ministry bullshit.” She always had to be careful not to say anything against the Ministry — Emm saw the Department of Mysteries as existing in its own right apart from the Ministry but at the end of the day it was still inappropriate to badmouth her place of work. Mia was different, though. She could say whatever she wanted to Mia and the only repercussions would be that of two intelligent and head-strong women ensuring the other’s integrity was in tact. “There’s no forethought. Take all his memories just to prove he was under Imperius even though if he was, he’d likely be more willing to name names and give us more information about the way they work!” She sighed and shook her head. It was all so terribly frustrating.

“Go on. Anything that feels like we’re getting somewhere rather than taking five steps backwards constantly has to be a good thing.” She cast the Legilimency books with a dissatisfied look. She had been in the Mind room for two years and was struggling to see the solution to getting Isaac’s memories back — even if she was lucky enough to get some time with the man when his blood was still no doubt wanted by the Death Eaters.

“I haven’t been there yet.” Lucy nodded along to the faint music that played in the background of the bar, still deciding if the conversation was worth the trouble. Emmeline. Pretty name. She appreciated that the girl was actually down to buy her a round, and Lucy reminded herself to pay the favor back on the next one. “Happy Dragon. That a club?” 

Her palms craved the wet, icy feel of a glass to calm her nerves as Emmeline asked about her career. Sure, Lucy was a good player, but Emmeline didn’t look like the kind of girl to know a thing about the sport. “I am, actually. Do I…know you by chance?” It was a reach, but maybe not as much as Lucy thought. Then the subject changed and she remembered to breathe again. “I get it. My mum was in the Magical Creatures Department and didn’t say much more than that either.” The glass was delivered to her and Lucy immediately took a sip to cool her throat. “I respect that. It must be tough.”

Emmeline smiled and shook her head. “Chinese restaurant. They do a great deal for takeaway boxes on the 25th of December, too, but you aren’t to tell anybody else that because I really like not having to queue.” The way she leaned in was conspiratory, like she was revealing a deep secret rather than simply information that anyone who didn’t celebrate Christmas would know.

“Oh, I doubt it. Going pro was never on the agenda for me. I was the same class as— Well. I was on the House team with Emma Vanity. Year above her.” Just like Sebastian Wilkes had been. Emm was unsure if the reason she didn’t want to talk about him was more to do with him being dead or him having been found to have been a Death Eater. Either way, Emma was a safer conversation piece, even with the drama surrounding her brother.

She gave out a dry laugh at the woman comparing the Department of Mysteries to a job with Magical Creatures. There weren’t the same level of gagging clauses and, depending how deep into the Department you went, Unbreakable Vows and silencing potions and an encouragement to become proficient in Occlumency. They weren’t called unspeakables for nothing. “Sure. I would hate a job that was anything less than tough.” If she wasn’t pushing herself then she didn’t see the point.

She found it rather unsatisfying, the way the Buchanan case had turned. Where with Diggle it had been as she expected and she was just relieved that there was substantial proof it hadn’t been him, with Buchanan it had only confused things further. Yes, it made sense of Aila’s testimony and what Emmeline already knew about Isaac if he was forced into the Death Eaters but she was frustrated that the Ministry had gone ahead and used such a shoddy spell to get their proof of his being under the Imperius. There were so many issues with it that she couldn’t begin to explain it but if there was one thing working in the Department of Mysteries had taught her, it was that there was always a solution.

“Their nachos aren’t all that good here,” Lucy admitted, having tried them one of her first nights in town “they use that cheese-wiz stuff so it just tastes like plastic.”  The chestnut haired woman tipped the glass to her lips and back into her throat. It burned, but in a way that felt like home to Lucy. “They’ve got the good fries though.” The witch was basically rambling about food at that point, bar food at that, and she shook her head to change the subject. 

“I’m Lucy and I like whiskey. Any kind.” She offered a friendly smile and looked the woman over. Lucy didn’t know how other women could pull off curls so well when she had to charm her hair to be as straight as possible. Maybe it was the height of her cheekbones that helped her look so good. The woman was still wearing her work uniform, complete with the Ministry’s seal that Lucy saw her mother wear on multiple occasions. “What division are you?”

“No, I probably should have stopped at the Happy Dragon if I wanted decent food. If I go with the chips you might have to help me out. “Emmeline,” she said by way of introduction before flagging down the bartender and ordering a glass of whiskey for Lucy, a gin and tonic for herself (already knowing from past experiences that their wines were not so great here) and a plate of fries to share. “Say, you aren’t the Lucy that just signed with the Wasps are you?” The name rang something of a bell and now that she thought about it Emm thought she had seen the other woman’s picture in the paper. While she hadn’t played Quidditch since school and the old teammates she had supported through professional careers no longer played for one reason or another, she had kept up with the sport quite well.

“Department of Mysteries,” she said with a smile, “So I’m afraid that’s about as much as I can say about it.”

Félix should probably ask if she learned anything about her dangerous mission, but he wasn’t in the proper state of mind just yet. His only concern for the moment was treating Emmeline properly so that her burns heal as fast as they could. As she kept her hand under cold running water, Félix was grinding some of the ingredients together with a mortar and pestle until the mixture turned into a homogenous paste. Upon her declaration that her burn had gone numb, Félix brought the paste beside her and gingerly pulled her hand towards him. “Here.” Very gently, he used a spatula-looking tool to scrape off the paste from the mortar and applied it to her hand. He made sure to lather it in thick, coating every affected area of her hand. Finally, Félix could relax. “You should feel a soothing sensation on your skin by now,” he said. “Tell me if you feel anything other than that.” If Félix somehow messed it up, which he doubted that he did, then he would like to know right away. “It’s a good thing you got out of it as early as you did.” It was also a good thing she went to him right away, but Félix wasn’t going to say that.

Emmeline stayed still and let Félix move her hand where he needed it to be. She only flinched a tiny bit when he first put the paste on, it being such a different sensation to the cold water and feeling odd when most of the feeling in her hand was numbed but she relaxed again as it became clear it wasn’t going to make the burn sting or hurt again. “No, that’s good,” she told him. It was just as he said. Soothing.

“Hey!” Bilius shrugged defensively. “You brought up the subject of birds. It was your choice to come to the party as a widow as well,” he teased. “I mean, I guess it is Halloween.” He tried to follow her gaze but was unable to pinpoint exactly at whom she’s looking. Bilius furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of the name. “I don’t think so?” he answered truthfully. But the name ‘Avery’ was ringing bells. “I think there was a kid back during my first year in Hogwarts with the name Avery. Not my year but… I think he didn’t end up graduating with us.” He shook his head at her question. “No. I didn’t, actually. Just came here by myself.”

Bilius snorted rather loudly. “I think I’ll pass for tonight.” A party where Bilius wasn’t causing chaos? That was practically unheard of when they were still younger. He didn’t know whether it was just everything that happened to him that year or his age finally coming up to him, but Bilius simply didn’t have the energy tonight. “People can find other ways to amuse themselves.” Bilius pointed towards the portion of the crowd that just looked snootier than everybody else in his opinion.  “Maybe one of them could trip and land on their face.”

Emm laughed , not really offended at all. It was all in light Halloween spirit. “She has an older brother, I know,” Emm confirmed, “who I believe had a bit of a troubled youth but I’m not holding that against her. I know I wouldn’t want anyone to judge me on family members I can’t control.” She wasn’t naive. She knew there were probably certain beliefs Freya had grown up with and there was a chance that behind the sweet demeanour she still believed them. Emm trusted very few people fully and so far Freya hadn’t made her way into that intimate group. “Freya was the year younger than me at school so you probably wouldn’t remember her from there.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, lightly brushing her thumb along the partially healed burns.  Her story was absolutely absurd.  Princess would never, but she also couldn’t imagine a candle doing enough damage to cause those sort of marks.  But Emmeline was not one to overshare, and if she wanted to have her secrets that was fine with Freya.  She had plenty of her own as it were.  “That looks like it hurts,” she frowned.  “or at least, that it did hurt.” 

There was something about fire that constantly drew her in, intrigued her like a moth attracted to the heat.  Something in her had always known that Emmeline was worth the effort, but those burns on her hands had some new emotion twisting through her gut.  Maybe Ms. Vance was more interesting than Freya had ever anticipated.  “Fire can be beautiful,” she said slowly.  “but it also hurts when your skin gets in the way.”  She smirked, shrugging.  “Do you want to dance?  This is a nice song.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, lightly brushing her thumb along the partially healed burns. Emm let Freya run her fingers along her hand, forcibly not letting herself flinch away. “It doesn’t hurt any more,” she said and she stretched her fingers slightly, flexing until she had them entangled with Freya’s. “I’ve had much worse from work,” she admitted, although in part it was to try to distract from the idea of such a scar being caused from a candle. Freya wasn’t questioning the story but she didn’t want to linger on it. “But of course I didn’t tell you that.”

There was something in Freya’s eyes that Emm couldn’t quite work out. She didn’t know her well enough yet to understand every expression on her face just as she didn’t know her well enough to have expected the way she talked about fire. Emmeline looked at her, bubbling with curiosity but now? Now was not the time. “I’d love to dance.” The question of who Freya Avery really was could wait until after this evening.

“Oh, don’t get me started on those three,” she said, head shaking, talking easily. Rosmerta preferred to look at the sunnier sides of life, especially in moments like these, and while the war hung over her life like a shadow – thought didn’t it for everyone? – she preferred to downplay it. Especially with Emmeline. Maybe, years ago, she would have indulged her in her fears and worries in regards to the war, her insecurities in regards to the Three Broomsticks. They had stopped being close in such a way quite some time ago, after all. Such things happened: Rosmerta tried not to be bitter about it. She usually succeeded, but as Emm stood before her, it was growing a little harder. “Don’t forget to get yourself some rest, hm?”

The words were said with a playful smile, but she did mean them. And then Emmeline mentioned the upcoming ball, and Rosmerta nodded. “Oh, I’ve been debating it in my head. On one hand, parties like that are kinda dull, but with everyone invited … it might be fun.” She shrugged her shoulders a little. “Are you going? It’s gonna be on your birthday, yeah? Perhaps you should throw a competing party.” And then, despite herself, her mouth moving faster than her head as always: “I’d prefer coming to that one.”

She felt a hint of a smile appear on her face. Perhaps it was selfish that she was happy Ros didn’t want to talk about the war but it did make things a lot easier. Rather than worry about trying to duck around conversations, a mutual agreement not to talk about it worked a lot better. “Rest?” Emm replied with a dry laugh. “What’s that?” Even when they were dating she had been absorbed in work to the point of rarely letting herself relax. In fact, it might have been worse then. Although now her free time away from work became absorbed by the Order, meaning she didn’t leave herself a lot of time for a social life, before she joined the Order her work was pretty much the only focus in her life. She had high ambitions and was determined to pick apart every aspect of magic that the Department of Mysteries provided her with. It wasn’t a rare sight to see her sat up late at night after time got away from her, or going in on Saturdays because she couldn’t even leave it alone at the weekends.

Félix gave her a grave nod. He, out of all people, knew exactly what might happen when the wrong kinds of people go sticking their noses in the business of patients whose injuries were of questionable means. The fact that Emmeline was an Unspeakable might just make matters worse. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” With his years of training under his belt, Félix was fairly certain that there wasn’t any treatment the hospital could give her that he couldn’t already provide in his flat. 

“Keep it under running water,” he ordered. “I’ll set a timer for ten minutes.” Félix found his hourglass nearby and enchanted it  until it was in the right size for counting ten minutes. “Buchanan?” he asked as he ran around the flat in search of the herbs and potions that he will need. “You went in there alone?!” Félix wanted to stop and confront her about her actions, but he had a burn to heal, and he didn’t want to waste time. So he decided to multi-task. “Did you see anyone who could be responsible for the fire?”