Notes: *insert witty and unnecessary disclaimer here.*

This was written for Jess (autumn midnights) as part of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza.

Jess: I hate you. And I feel free to say that I hate you because the fact that I'm giving your weird-as-fuck OTP a chance (making this my first femslash oneshot, btw) proves that I actually don't hate you and really kinda love you and think you're super amazing and everything. I had more fun with this than I want to admit and now I kind of get your love for these two, even though our headcanons are somewhat (ie. extremely) different. But that's the first and last time you'll hear me say it. And because of that –or in spite of that- I really hope you enjoy this piece. Ily ok.

Something Different

She rarely ever crossed the doors into the Ministry's dining hall. That day was an exception. She wanted a nice warm cup of tea - no, she wanted a Butterbeer, but even though her day was technically over, she was still on duty in theory. So tea would have to do, and she allowed herself that little break because it felt completely deserved.

Morag MacDougal had never felt so accomplished in her twenty years of life. True, she'd fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. True, she'd studied hard and could be considered a lawyer by all standards. But this had been a different kind of struggle and it had completely paid off.

Two years earlier, she'd testified against Lazarus Nott. It had taken all her courage to go on the witness stand and vividly describe how the man had tortured her and killed his own son. She still had nightmares of sharp, unconquerable pain and flashes of green light. She could still see Theodore Nott's lifeless face when she closed her eyes. The adrenaline of her escape ran through her blood every now and then, and the sole mention of the killer was enough to make her shudder.

Incredibly enough, Nott Senior had confessed to this crime. He hadn't even tried to deny Morag's version of events - but it didn't make leading the case in defense of Theodore Nott any easier for Morag. To her, this case was as personal as it could get. Theodore was her ex, after all.

And even if he hadn't been, she shouldn't have been allowed to be in such case altogether. She hadn't even passed the bar exam, making it technically illegal for her to lead such a case if it weren't for the loophole that allowed her to do so if she was teamed with an actual attorney. Her bosses shared her opinion on posthumous trials of schoolchildren, and they wanted them to be over quickly. So they didn't mind sitting that one out and letting an apprentice and her mentor use it as learning material, while busying themselves in more pressing matters.

They knew what Morag had come to realize in her preparation: it wasn't hard for the defense to half-ass a plea for acquittal for someone who wouldn't be alive to enjoy it.

'The defendant was under seventeen years old.'

'The defendant might have been acting under the Imperius curse.'

'The defendant might have feared he would be in danger if he didn't comply.'

Morag sipped from her cup of tea, letting herself relax. While only the third go-to excuse was true in Theodore's case, she'd heard it so many times before that she'd tried to subtly imply it rather than use it as a cop-out. So her speech had been more down-to-earth and truthful.

'Unfortunately,' she'd said, 'as it often happens with posthumous trials, the defendant isn't here to testify. We keep talking about these people, who were in many ways children at the time. He might have been this, or this, or that. Theodore Nott might have been guilty; he might have been innocent. But the one thing that he certainly is, is dead.'

She'd even heard a few choked laughs, which she took as a victory. And even if her unprofessional manner of speech was sure to be addressed by her mentor, at least she'd gotten her point across.

And she'd gotten the acquittal she'd been hoping for.

'Theodore died saving my life. If that's not a last-minute act of total redemption, I don't know what that is.'

"You were brilliant." A voice interrupted her thoughts. Morag raised her eyes from her drink to look at the speaker. "I want to hate you, but I can't."

Morag knew Romilda Vane by reputation. Brash, insensitive and hopelessly careless, she'd been one of the underage wizards to go back to fight You-Know-Who at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Romilda had also been a witness against the defense. Morag had only asked her one or two questions before letting her go; she didn't want anyone to re-live any of the horrible things Theodore Nott had most certainly done to them.

'Did Theodore Nott use any Unforgivable curse on you?'

'Was Theodore Nott following orders?'

Now that Romilda stood before her, Morag couldn't help but feeling small and mean. She'd fought for the acquittal of someone she knew to be guilty, in a way, and Romilda had been one of his victims.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I sincerely am."

"Don't be." Romilda made a dismissive gesture with her hand. She took a seat in front of Morag, not waiting for an invitation to do so. "You were hilarious, too, and you even convinced me that he deserved that acquittal and that makes you absolutely brilliant. I mean, as you said, that Lucius Malfoy was acquitted for much less. All he did was abandon a sinking ship, while Nott saved a life. And we've allowed Harry Potter to walk away from a trial even if he's freely admitted to using Unforgivables, which is someone Theodore Nott never did."

Morag scoffed. "Trying Harry Potter? Please."

"Exactly. It's pointless." And in softer tone, she added: "Just as pointless as these trials."

Finally, Morag thought, somebody outside the Department with common sense! Morag had heard awful things about Romilda and her hot-headedness, but she couldn't see what was there not to like.

"These trials are pointless," she agreed. "Yet we both participated in this with that knowledge."

"It's not about revenge," Romilda quickly answered, as if she had guessed the question lingering in the back of Morag's mind. "I mean, he was killed by his own father and buried without a funeral. Does it get more karmic than that?" Morag smiled dryly. She had to recognize the other woman was right. "No, but when he tortured me, I didn't fight back." A pause followed that affirmation. "I just wanted to fight back."

"I know exactly what you mean. That's exactly why I testified against Theo's father. I ran away. But I couldn't raise my wand against him and I wished… anyway," she interrupted herself hastily, aware that her impassioned speech was showing more than she intended to. "It's over now."

"Nott must have really loved you."

Romilda's half-question sent shivers through Morag's whole body. No one had ever wondered whether Theodore loved Morag, instead saying he should've wanted her for something else: sex, validation, target practice, even just as a trophy girlfriend. But no one ever thought he could've loved Morag – and she whole-heartedly knew he had.

"He did love me, until the very end." Looking at Romilda straight in the eye, she knew she should clarify her position better. "I'm not trying to undermine all the pain he put you through. I know he was cruel, and while I did love him once, I was never blind to his nature." She sighed. "At the beginning I wanted to see what it was like, and it was all fun and games until I started to care too much… and now I care enough to want to make clear that there was a lot of good in him as well. I want to remember him as he truly was."

There was a short silence before Romilda said, "I believe you."

For the second time, Morag felt touched by Romilda's words. No one had ever accepted her words and feelings for Theodore so whole-heartedly. But there she was, this complete stranger, taking everything at face value and giving Morag the feeling that her struggle was finally over.

"You do?" Was all she could say, hoping Romilda wasn't aware of how vulnerable she felt. Luckily enough, Romilda wasn't the kind to pick up on those subtleties.

"Why else would you go through such trouble to accomplish something that, in the end, is useless?" Morag's surprise was probably evident, because the other woman started justifying herself. "I don't really care myself, honestly. I wanted everyone to know my story, and I do think that justice and karma were served outside the courtroom. Do I care whether a bunch of old wizards decide he's guilty? I know what happened." She shrugged. "You just made every single person in that room feel useless. I was surprised the Wizengamot didn't just didn't call it quits and went for a Butterbeer instead."

Calling it quits sounded perfect to Morag's ears, and she suddenly became aware of how tired she was.

She let herself examine the woman in front of her beyond her dark, wild curls and her subtle freckles. Her pouty lips were dry, there were bags under her big brown eyes and Morag realized that she wasn't the only one losing sleep over Theodore's trial.

She pondered her own intentions quickly, finally deciding that her question wouldn't be out of line. That stranger had been courageous enough to bare her thoughts to her. None of her own actions could be perceived as bold after that.

"You know," Morag said, "maybe the two of us should call it quits and go for a Butterbeer instead."

There she was, trying to start something with the lawyer that had successfully defended -and dated- the man that had tortured her senseless.

Typical Romilda.

It was like her to fall quickly and strongly, and for someone so unattainable. Her feelings always took control of her, making her bold and reckless. She didn't know how to be subtle and she was aware that it was the reason her romantic life was a total failure.

But she wanted it so, so much – and every time she found someone she had to hold herself back.

Morag made it difficult, because there was a great deal of passion beneath that serious face and eloquent words. She completely lacked passivity and overflowed with a curiosity that wasn't just mental, but also physical. From the moment Romilda had suggested The Leaky Cauldron, and Morag had commented with an 'actually, there's this new place…' it was absolutely obvious that she was dealing with that kind of person who always needed to try something different.

It didn't reflect in her plain way of dressing or her tight hairdo. It didn't reflect in her unreadable expression. But her eyes shone whenever she spoke of experiences or desire for something new, and many of Morag's answers to Romilda's eager questions had a hint of that urge to just live and not let any moment left unlived.

'I dated Theo because why the hell not.'

'Tried Muggle cigarettes once. I knew it wasn't going to be my thing, but I needed to see what it was like.'

'I joined the battle – late, but still. I couldn't stand that my friends were fighting and being tortured while I stood quietly in the sidelines.'

'I'm not taking any potions to get rid of my nightmares. It means that I won't be able to dream altogether.'

The place Morag had suggested was smaller and cozier than The Leaky Cauldron, by the other end of Diagon Alley. Romilda didn't catch the name, but she did realize that they'd arrived just as the happy hour started.

As she sipped on her second draught Butterbeer, she wondered if Morag had known. She seemed to be in on everything, which made it even more difficult for Romilda to imagine such a practical person going for something as theoretical as lawmaking. After speaking to her for an entire afternoon, it just didn't fit.

"How does a woman like you end up becoming a lawyer?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You're just too exciting for such a dull job." Too late, Romilda realized that her compliment was backhanded. But Morag didn't seem to care or even notice altogether.

"There's a great deal of excitement in the courtroom. " Her eyes twinkled as she embarked in a fast-paced monologue. "It requires a great deal of knowledge and no, I'm not trying to fool you – there's a lot of boring stuff. But it's stimulating. There's so much to change in our world now, and I want to be part of it. As a lawyer, I get to be creative. I get to sit down, investigate and find solutions that often seem improbable or even impossible. I get to hear different stories and defend so many different points of view, I can't tell apart right from wrong sometimes – but that's why it gives me the knowledge to do the right thing…" Her expression betrayed a sly smile. "Regardless of the law."

Romilda didn't have an answer to that, instead focusing on being completely bedazzled by Morag's demeanor. She didn't have any doubt that whatever Morag did, she would've found something to be passionate about within her field.

"You finished Hogwarts, right?" All the night, the topic of conversation had been Morag. Having her switch it so swiftly surprised Romilda, who simply nodded. "What are your plans?"

"I want in on the Research Unit."

"Pardon me?"

"The Research Unit of the Auror Office," Romilda clarified. "They're the ones in charge of looking into dangerous criminals and infiltrating-"

"I know what the Research Unit is," she interrupted curtly. "My father was in charge of it before his last promotion. That's the reason why I met Theo, actually - he also wanted in on it."

"Nott wanted to be a Researcher?" Romilda was dumbfounded.

"If there had been no war…" Morag didn't need to complete the phrase for Romilda to know exactly what she meant. "At the trial, I asked you the questions I did for a reason. I think he believed that his life would've been in danger if he hadn't followed orders. This excuse is overused, but I can swear it's true. The fact that he was killed for protecting me proves me right. It doesn't mean that I think he was right in doing it, but then there are people like Brocklehurst-"

Romilda shuddered. "Don't even say that name." Mandy Brocklehurst had also been trigger-happy during the year the Carrows had reigned at Hogwarts.

"Then there are people like her who whole-heartedly backed the regime and whom I gladly put behind bars if I could."

"Why don't you?"

"She ran away after the war."

"I'm going to find her," Romilda said confidently. "When I become a Researcher, that's the first thing I'm going to do."

That's exactly why she wanted to be a Researcher. She was painfully aware that her combat skills weren't fit for an Auror, but she wanted to keep fighting and she knew she would make an amazing Researcher – which was a euphemism for spy, really, but she wasn't about to go into technicalities.

"Go for it," Morag said, and the urgency of her voice was contagious. "Let's do justice together."

The word 'together' sent her head on a spin, and her heart on a fast-speed race that had nothing to do with the Butterbeer. Together with Morag sounded like the best kind of together – and this made Romilda realize that she was absolutely smitten with this complete stranger, and there was no way back.

Morag looked at herself in the mirror in the ladies' room, hoping she'd attained the classy-yet-sexy look she needed to feel confident and look trustworthy. She hadn't slept for three days straight in preparation for that day's session, and when she'd managed to rest her head on a pillow, she'd been jolted awake by the visions that had haunted her since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Make-up is a wonderful thing, she concluded as she exited the restroom - only to come face to face with Romilda Vane.

She caught her breath, aware of that strange fuzzy feeling that invaded her every time they met. She wanted to think it was because Romilda's evident partiality towards her, but she wasn't even sure.

Granted, going out with Romilda had been fun and liberating, and Morag thought it would be an odd one-time encounter. She half-wanted it to be that way, but she'd forgotten that Romilda wanted in on the Auror Office and that a side effect of that aspiration was that they got to see each other frequently.

If she had to be honest, Morag hadn't thought that Romilda could make a good Researcher. She was too easy to read, too open about her thoughts, and more importantly, too obvious when telling everyone that she wanted to be a Researcher. But she got used to seeing her at the Ministry at odd hours, sometimes clocking in when Morag clocked out. Sometimes she wouldn't show up for a whole week and when she reappeared, she would look thinner and more tired – sometimes even hurt.

'Auror training' was the only response Morag got whenever she inquired, and she started to take back her first impression of Romilda's abilities to leave room for some well-deserved admiration.

What perplexed her most was that Romilda didn't lose any of the qualities that had made Morag feel so inevitably drawn to her. Her ever-present cheerfulness and energy passed every test the chief Aurors were throwing at her, never dwindling or shaking. She always smiled when she said hello, and she always seemed to have the time to try and get Morag to join her into whatever plan she had.

'You Purebloods don't know fun. I'm going to take you to see a movie, and you're going to like it.'

'You've never been to Bath? That needs to be fixed.'

'I want to go on a spa day, but I don't want to go alone. Care to join?'

There was no dull moment with Romilda. It was hard for Morag to determine whether she did it on purpose, or she just loved going on wacky adventures. Sometimes Morag thought she was just trying to impress her. Then again, Romilda was a Gryffindor, which meant wacky adventures were pretty much part of the deal.

And Morag loved it.

"You look gorgeous today, Morag!" Romilda greeted her. "New robes? What's the occasion?"

It astonished Morag that Romilda could understand exactly what she wanted and needed at any given moment. Romilda, who thought of subtlety as an unnecessary annoyance and didn't bother picking up on it. But when it came to Morag, it almost looked like second nature.

That's what I want from a partner, she reflected. Not from a friend.

And Romilda's attention was evident enough.

"I'm lawyering today," she offered as an explanation. She'd used the expression enough times for Romilda to know what she meant. "We're trying to introduce a ban on love potions."

"Oh, please do," Romilda said emphatically. "I tried to make Harry Potter drink a love potion once. I was fourteen and had no idea what I was doing. I don't want to get into details but it ended terribly, terribly wrong."

Morag had heard the rumors, and considering Romilda's temper, she wasn't the least surprised that she could've been the kind of teenager to try and gain someone's love in a forceful manner. But none of it made her think less of Romilda, for she showed regret and understanding. If anything, her respect for the younger woman only grew.

"So that's why he looks so terrified whenever you're around?" she joked.

"He should get over it." Romilda made a dismissive hand gesture. "I mean, it's been four years, we basically work together, and I'm obviously not trying to drug him. Or anyone, for that matter… I guess you could say I learned my lesson."

Romilda didn't seem keen on the subject of love potions, though she spoke of it with splendid nonchalance. So Morag tried a tangent.

"Harry Potter, of all people? He's a good bloke but kind of… clueless."

"That comes from the girl that dated Theodore Nott." Romilda raised an eyebrow, and Morag had to admit that she had a point. "Harry was The Chosen One back then and that's what drew me in. Yes, he's a bit of an adorable idiot. But that was the kind of boys I went for before… before figuring out that I like girls."

The hitch in Romilda's voice didn't go lost on Morag, who prided herself on being perceptive. Romilda's unblinking eyes and open posture seemed like a complete act, and it seemed obvious that she'd been trying to introduce the subject in the smoothest way possible.

And it wasn't like Romilda to be smooth.

"You figured it out?" The same way, it wasn't like Morag to be tactful. "How do you even ignore that kind of stuff? I'm sorry, but lust is a very obvious kind of urge."

"I get it." Romilda smiled, apparently unbothered by her friend's disbelief, if only slightly abashed. "Fantasizing with a naked Angelina Johnson should've been a clue, yes, but it's easy to be in denial when all your friends talk about blokes. They all started to wonder why didn't I date and it was confusing to me, because I never got the hype about boys. I just latched onto one that everyone fancied at the time and put on my best act… I was so sure I fancied him though. I didn't realize I was lying to myself."

Morag wished she could say that she understood, but she could never fool herself when it came to her own feelings and thoughts. The only man she'd ever loved had been Theodore, and she was certain she'd loved him strongly.

"It makes sense," she said to compromise.

An awkward silence was threatening to set in, but Romilda was quick to break it.

"Well, I don't want to make you late and I really, really need the loo-"

"Yeah, right. See you later?"

"Can't promise that, but I surely hope so!"

The door between them closed, and it took a moment for Morag to regain her composure and walk away from it.

However, even as her appearance was calm and flawless, there was mayhem inside her head. She wanted to feel the way she thought she looked, but then Romilda had appeared out of nowhere and thrown another dragon-sized hint of her feelings toward her. Morag didn't know what those feelings were, but whatever they were, they weren't just friendly. That's why having Romilda come out without a hint of shame didn't surprise her as much as it made her feel exposed.

Morag could've chosen to ignore it all. She could politely rebuff Romilda's advances and pretend nothing had ever happened. Then again, she honestly liked Romilda and their friendship gave her much-needed excitement in a time when everything was hard work, recurring nightmares and sleepless nights.

Morag could've chosen to ignore it all, but she couldn't ignore the fact that she kept letting Romilda become a bigger part of her life and her routine. And she didn't want it to end.

For the first time in her life, Morag MacDougal was at a loss.

"Cheers, once again, for your amazing lawyering skills-"

"And for privilege," Morag said. "Don't forget privilege."

"Your dad's influence can get you apprenticed to the best lawyer in the Ministry, but it can't get you those amazing lawyering skills."

"It's not like I wrote the reform or anything. I just collaborated with my research and my presence."

"For Merlin's sake! Cheers, then, for whatever you did that started the process for banning love potions! Just drink up, will you?"

Romilda didn't wait for Morag to drink, instead bringing the pint to her lips and gulping down a good portion. She could hear Morag doing the same.

She was glad they were back at the pub they'd gone to the day they met. That was one of the few places they went to constantly, and it felt like a comfy, safe corner in which they could both be themselves. To be fair, Romilda thought that she was always herself. It was Morag who exhibited some changes once they were out of the professional environment and in such a familiar place, shedding her professional persona and becoming someone so full of raw life, Romilda couldn't help but fall for her all over again.

When they were alone, Morag talked endlessly and her eyes lit up. Only then, Morag would open up and tell her things she was sure no one had ever been allowed to hear.

'This is the one case in which I don't care justice has already been served – one day I'll go up to Azkaban and punch Cornelius Fudge in the face.'

'Sometimes, I forget that I'm clever and I genuinely start believing everyone around me is stupid.'

'I would sometimes use the Dark Arts against insects and rats, until I was sixteen. Just to see what it's like.'

Morag's dirty little secrets didn't faze her. Whoever she was in the past was gone – right then, Morag was a in imperfect, amazing woman whose misdeeds had given her an outstanding moral sense. It only made Romilda's fascination grow even stronger.

"I did very little to help the case, to be honest," Morag said, placing her mug down and bringing Romilda back to reality. "It feels like I worked so hard, but when I see what all those real lawyers do-"

"You're just as real as them, just not as experienced. Shut up now, will you?" Morag smiled coyly, indicating that she was far from offended. "Let me be proud of you. We're all proud of you. I'm sure even Theodore Nott is watching from Heaven-"

Morag snickered. "Please. Theodore Nott would go to Gryffindor before going to Heaven."

"He'd be received in Heaven before he'd be received in Gryffindor, so I really don't know."

To Romilda's elation, Morag laughed loudly. It was always incredible to her that Morag could joke so easily about her dead ex-boyfriend, especially when it was obvious that the subject caused her more grief than she was willing to express. In fact, Romilda often wondered whether the dark spots around Morag's eyes they were linked to her recurring nightmares of the night Nott died, or to caffeine and books filled with unintelligible law stuff. She concluded it was probably both, though sleepless nights were a common problem among young Ministry workers; she knew she shouldn't give it so much though.

Romilda herself felt like time was slipping between her fingers and there was nothing she could do to grasp it. Between training, lessons, studying and surprise meetings, she barely had time for anything else in her life. She couldn't tell Morag that she'd ditched one of her lessons to go out with her – Morag didn't need to know. But even though she'd have to work hard to recover that lost time, seeing Morag laugh freely made it worth it.

"You look so good when you laugh," she said. She could never straightforwardly say 'I fancy you,' but she could never seem to watch how she expressed herself.

"I always look good." Morag rolled her eyes, a smile lingering on her lips.

"You are very pretty indeed – shame you don't like girls."

"Spare us both." Romilda was startled by the sudden ruggedness contained in her friend's voice. It wasn't like her to respond to her compliments so harshly.

"I'm sorry?"

There was an overwhelming silence before Morag spoke.

"This has been going on for too long," she said. "I know how you feel, okay? I just don't know how I feel."

Romilda held her breath, unsure of how to react. Many nights, she'd lost sleep over the mere idea of the moment in which Morag would confront her about her feelings. It was inevitable. But she was extremely relieved that Morag was neither disgusted nor taken aback. If anything she seemed confused.

So there's hope.

"Let's find out," Romilda whispered.

"I'm not entirely sure it's the best idea."

"You dated a twisted man for no good reason and fell in love. Why can't I get the same treatment?" Her frustration was finally showing, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Are you afraid of dating a girl?"

"This has nothing to do with you being a woman, and-" Romilda opened her mouth to speak, but Morag seemed to read her mind. "It has nothing to do with Theo either. There aren't even ashes left from that fire." She believed her, as she always did. Morag's ardent rants usually manifested an uncanny sort of sincerity. "You know I'm not afraid of trying something different, but I'm wary when it comes to people I care about. I need to sort this out, but I don't want to break your heart in the process."

Romilda rolled her eyes. "Well," she said, "I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. Break my heart, if you will, but don't write me off."

Morag's eyes narrowed. Even when she was being tested, she appeared to Romilda as stoic and serene as a statue made of pure white marble. Romilda wondered what mental thunderstorms were raging in Morag's mind, and the lack of an immediate answer only exacerbated her anxiety.

Then again, that silence indicated that Morag was seriously considering it. Morag was seriously considering her. It felt too good to be true. Romilda's heart sped and she was sure her face had gone hot pink with restrained excitement.

And after what felt like a lifetime, Morag stared straight into Romilda's eyes and spoke.

"Alright," she said.

'Alright' wasn't enthusiastic, but it wasn't fatalistic. 'Alright' –and especially with that peaceful smile of Morag's- meant that she was up to the challenge and eager to love it.

'Alright,' with Morag's hand reaching toward hers, was more than good enough for Romilda.

She smiled a big, bright smile and had to remind herself not to kiss Morag senseless, because 'alright' was a sign that holding back meant that there would be time for everything later.