Senses working overtime Trying to taste the difference, 'tween a lemon and a lime, Pain and the pleasure, And the church bells softly chime. Monday, July 30 :: Early evening
Benefit of being the new boss: Playing hooky was completely without risk.
Penalty of being the boss: Taking off early came after a couple of days working overtime with the new recruits and trying to get the Station back to a semi-useful state after a couple years of neglect.
A few stores in Hogsmeade and London should have been delighted with the orders Tonks had made to restock the storerooms. The Station's budget overage had been approved right off, which was just as well; as it was Tonks was supremely proud of her determination that no matter what, she would not be asking the Minister what pet project the funds that should have been spent on Hogsmeade Station all along had gone to when she encountered him at Wilson's funeral service Thursday morning.
Scrimegour was Shacklebolt's project, not hers, although she'd help if she could. More importantly, the town was in her hands now.
How did you survive all those fires and floods? Saturday, July 21 :: Afternoon
Not too long ago Tonks wanted more than anything to get into this room. She wasn't a stickler for order or anything, but the state of Wilson's office went past a bit mussed into an outright detriment to anything they wanted to do.
He'd even had charms put on so the paper-airplane memos she sent never made it to him; they flew off to who knew where.
Nothing to keep her out of the supervisor's office now, though.
Tonks had made a couple of borderline-insubordinate comments this morning when Kingsley, who'd come up from London himself to direct the aftermath of last night's debacle, had suggested she go home and get some sleep after the initial interview were over.
If you could save me From the ranks of the freaks Who suspect they could never love anyone Thursday, July 12 • Evening
Nymphadora Tonks had argued with herself all day.
You know you're going to throw yourself into this and be in over your head before you know it. Why not go slow this time? Because it's Bill, and I know him and ... What if he's just being gentlemanly and "sure, I'm interested in you" because of the moon and now it's "oops, I seem to have spent all night shagging you, so the polite thing to do is go for a bite to eat"? ... How about you stop worrying and just have some fun? Because that's what got me in trouble last time. ... Yeah, but we're both older now, smarter, and we're not going to end up not-friends over this.
All in all, dwelling over Bill, what had happened and what might happen if things went well tonight was definitely more interesting than spending all day worrying about the inquiry, which had gone surprisingly OK if "saying exactly what you thought and maybe torpedoing your career again, but pfft, this time you didn't do anything at all wrong, so suck it, Scrimmy" was going OK.
So Tonks was chuffed by the time she got home to get ready, her customary optimism in place. Heck, even the charms to keep her stocking seams up and straight seemed to be working, which was a minor miracle in and of itself.
I was detained a bit longer than I'd hoped expected. Nothing serious, no one in hospital or anything, just some red tape that had to be dealt with.
My bosses were dead set on a certain item being shipped to their vaults, and their Egyptian counter-parts were equally set on it going to theirs, and I was stuck in the middle since I was the only one at the time capable of moving the bloody thing without setting off at least three curses and a hex that would have done some nasty things.
But enough about business. Let's talk about pleasure.
I'm not sure what your schedule is like, but if you have a free day this week, or this weekend or whenever, I'm really not that picky, just desperate, and I'm so scratching that out. let me know and we can do that date thing.
About the other nightI don't know why I'm sending an owl instead of showing up at your door I probably should have owled yesterday. I know we talked a bit about us on Sunday, but I still feel a little freaked out unsure.
I'm not real good at this sort of thing, but I'd rather not mess it up if I can help it.
Saturday made it clear that we're attracted to each other, but we both know there's more to it than that. What I think I'm trying to say is, would you like to go out to dinner with me.
I would just like to go on record as saying I still think this is a bad idea. Saturday, June 30th - Afternoon
Somehow, when the matter had been broached at Malfoy's party the night before, Bill hadn't been able to come up with a good enough excuse to keep Tonks away for the night.
No, he hadn't actually ever hurt anyone - that he could remember. There were a handful of moons he had managed to drink himself into such a stupor that he really didn't have a clue what had happened the next morning, other than the hangover. But that didn't mean the urge to break things, and people, hadn't been there.
That's why he'd kept Fleur away. Hell, that's why he kept just about everyone away, other than a few nights spent in the company of Chuckles, but Bill knew Charlie could take care of himself if something were to happen. The man dealt with dragons, for Merlin's sake.
"- I had know that was all it would take to keep that hag Witherpool off my case and away from my stories, I would have volunteered to bring lunch for everyone before. It is not my fault she's got a thing for chicken salad. How was I supposed to know you aren't supposed to use the entire - What? - What do you mean I'm on the air? Already? Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"This is Rita Skeeter live in the gardens of the Black Orchid Hotel - which is the closest I can get thanks to security and that restraining order. That sound you hear is an almost tribal rhythm emanating from the hotel ballroom."
The noise grew momentarily louder before being drowned out by the unmistakable sounds of snapping twigs and a whispered curse. "They nearly saw me that time."
"Almost a primal beat, primal enough to remind this reporter of the events that occurred in that very ballroom just a few short months ago. Will tonight's festivities end in yet another veil of silence, much like the day after the Valentine's Ball and the rumored, yet sadly unsubstantiated, orgy that may or may not have taken place?"
"As always, ladies and gentlemen, WWN is always interested in the comments and concerns of our listeners. More importantly, if you personally witnessed a sensational bit of scandal, owl me, Rita Skeeter, care of the WWN. The Wizarding Wireless Network now returns you to our regularly scheduled programing."
When it is not necessary to make a decision, it is necessary not to make a decision. ~ Lord Falkland
Monday, June 18th ~ Morning
Almost a week had gone by since Anne had been out jogging and had had the misfortune to make the acquaintance of Bellatrix Lestrange. Anne understood the woman was dead and was no longer a threat, but that didn't stop the images that kept replaying in her mind through the potion induced haze of medication the healers insisted she take. Once or twice they'd been busy enough she'd received it a little late and there was no argument about taking it after that. Whatever hex it was the dead woman had managed to hit her with - hurt! Anne's left arm and shoulder still weren't responding the way they should, ( Collapse )
I got my mob scene in my eyes You can ignore the voices of the people, This is the beginning.
They say no consequence. This is the beginning of the end. Monday, June 11 :: Morning
"This is to be a precision operation. Secure the area, retrieve Lestrange and bring her back to Azkaban for interrogation."
Scrimgeour steepled his hands and looked across his desk at the hand-picked group of Aurors listening attentively to every one of his words.
Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't among them. The Minister had wanted disciplined, obedient officers on this mission, and while he respected the Head of the Auror Office, Scrimgeour didn't trust Shacklebolt to see what was best in this case.
For instance, Kingsley would probably think it necessary to inform the Hogsmeade office of what was about to go down in their town, and that couldn't be allowed.
And so it begins. Sunday, June 10th - Early Afternoon
Bill Apparated to Glen Hollow, one arm full of the carefully wrapped package, the other wrapped firmly around Tonks for a Side-Along Apparation.
Little had he known back when Tonks had told him about Longbottom's suspected fate - so that he could be ready in case Ginny needed comforting or a big brother's hold to keep her from going after someone for revenge - that he would be end up in the thick of everything.
"Remember, officially, I was just doing a favor for a friend when I agreed to look it over. Harry didn't go through Gringotts, and they could have my job if they thought I was doing paid, freelance work. If you weren't you, Nymph, I wouldn't even have told you what I found because it's Potter's, not mine, but this is big and - Oh, crap, this is big, isn't it?"
He knocked on the door once more, hoping the Potters were home and that someone would answer soon enough. The package was giving him the creeps, making the short hairs on his neck stand on end.