Everything in this universe of course belongs to JK Rowling. My characters
(who are, duh, all the ones NOT from her books) are merely playing here.
Phoenix would like for me to inform you that she has a small disclaimer of her own: She too belongs to no one, nor does she take orders from anyone who does not have proper identification to be her superior officer (and only then if she's feeling generous). She is not wonder woman or a saint; she smokes too much, drinks too much, curses too much, and is too often rude. For her money anyone who has a problem with her behavior can. well if you really want to know what she thinks you should do, you should probably ask her yourself, since I don't think it dignifies repeating. ************************************************************************
Phoenix lazily traced the gold emboss of her name with an empty quill. There was work to be done and files to looked through, but she just couldn't make herself focus on anything as menial as layers of bureaucratic nonsense when she knew her duty was not yet done. The last several days had predictably left her feeling useless and aggravated, the harder she chased loose ends the faster they seemed to unravel in her fingers. It was hard not to get discouraged when everyone around her was giving into the idea that Leads truly had disappeared, probably for good this time. Those people were not haunted by his continual invasion of their dreams. For them it was easy to forget, but nothing could make her forget or give in until she held his life between her own two hands with the same stranglehold he had held her for the last year with his constant invisible presence. When the endlessly dismal thoughts became too much for her she got up from the desk with a sigh and walked across the small office to where large, delicately decorated mirror hung just opposite the door. She gazed back into her own pale green eyes, and ran her fingers through her long red hair.
"You don't look like your getting enough sleep, dear," cooed the mirror gently. She poked at the dark circles under her eyes and the lines forming around her mouth.
"It's overrated," she mumbled in response. She really was too young to be looking like this, hell she was too young to be feeling like this.
"Oh, no, deary. Everyone needs their beauty sleep; eight hours would be ideal, nine hours would be better; maybe you should just make a weekend of it. You know it would help also help immensely if you would run a brush through that hair a little more often, and it couldn't hurt to lay off the snacks," the mirror chirped.
She stood speechless for a moment. Had the mirror not been a birthday present from her youngest niece, Sarah, she would have considered tossing it out in her growing frustration, or just breaking it out right for the satisfying shatter. "Thanks a hell of a lot. Where do you get off anyway?"
"Oh well honey I am a certified Celestia Dreamlock Vanity Mirror, and you don't have to thank me it's my job to make you into the best you, you can be. But in your case that could take some work."
Phoenix blinked in disbelief, clenching and unclenching her fist. This she just did not need right now. She walked determinedly back to her desk and pulled out a new stack of work. Count on Sarah to buy her a beauty mirror of all things. She made a mental note to take the blasted thing home that evening. Beauty mirrors had absolutely no place in the office of an Auror. For that matter they had no place in her life at all. Her niece was always telling her that she could be pretty if she would just put a little effort into it. When Sarah was younger Phoenix had played along, surrendering herself to long hours of playing dress-up. But now that Sarah was thankfully too preoccupied with her own appearance Phoenix would rather go one on one with a stampeding manticore than attempt a glamour charm.
Scribbling furiously across a new page of parchment Phoenix didn't even seem to hear the door quietly click open, or see the man striding silently across the room. He was tall with thick, dignified silver hair and his broad shoulders were draped in dark blue robes that accented a full muscular frame. With the same pale green eyes as the woman behind the desk he surveyed her silently while similar lines etched around his tight-lipped mouth. "Don't believe in knocking anymore, huh?" Phoenix snapped, not moving her eyes from the page, when he had gaped at her without speaking longer than her tolerance could bear.
"Knocking would imply I was asking for permission." The statement was simple and effective. Phoenix looked up at him slowly, taking in the determined set of his shoulders and the piercing stare in his eyes. His manner set her instantly on edge; unconsciously she fingered her wand where it lay beside her ledger.
The visual standoff lasted a few infinite moments before she sighed and gestured to the seat across from her. "So. I take it that this meeting is business and not pleasure," she said trying to sound cool and in control.
He folded his hands slowly and gazed down at the floor, Phoenix suspicions rose when he refused to meet her eyes with his typical direct manner. "Not much pleasure to be had, to be honest, or I'd be sure to pass it on. I have an assignment for you." He didn't waste time getting to the point of his visit and his frankness sent up Phoenix's hackles. There was only one place a conversation like this could be heading, and she had been dreading it for days.
"Da-" she stopped herself and forced calm into her voice. No point jumping the gun even if her nerves were ringing out in unbelievable falsetto keys. Her instincts were legendarily sharp and at this moment they told her that the last thing anyone needed was for her to lose her composure. Chiseling a stone expression to her face she began to try again. "Commander, I already have an assignment. The Leads case," there was an insuppressible note of panic and pleading in her voice that she cursed herself for.
"No one has seen hide nor hair of Leads in weeks, the simple fact of the matter is that all of our leads have dried up; it looks like he just might have actually gone into hiding somewhere we can't reach him." Other than his lack of direct eye contact she could tell nothing different from his usually frankness and authoritative manner, silently she cursed him for being so control of himself when she was barely hanging on. "Besides you are not in any state to keep working this case. Phoenix, you are killing yourself here. You aren't sleeping, you aren't eating-not anything good for you anyway," he glanced despondently at the mounting stack of junk food wrappers piling up on her desk, "you won't talk to anyone, not even Jon and Bolt, it's just not like you Phoe."
"So what are you going to have me do instead," she snarled. He cringed slightly at her. Phoenix's fuse was measurably short and burning fast. What did it matter to him what she did with herself, as far as she was concerned there was a job to be done, and if she didn't have time for the little things like sleeping, eating full meals, or wasting time shooting the shit with her brother and nephew, then her commander should be happy she was putting her work first. The harder she tried to repress her anger the quicker it boiled pushing closer and closer to the top. "Let me guess. the old man in Dallas who put the Impedimenta curse on his dog to make him bite the mailman, or then there's the lady in New York who bought a book on Dark Potions and served it to her bridge club. What Commander, what will you have me do?"
He looked wearily at her and as he met her eyes for the first time she was amazed to find that he seem to be pulling from his seemingly infinite source of personal strength just to be speaking, the very idea sent a cold chill racing down her spine. "Phoenix, you have to realize my concern here. After what happen. with Luke. you are really starting to scare me, I've never seen you push yourself as hard as you have these last two weeks." When she made no response he doggedly returned to staring at the floor. "Your brother received a notice from the Minister in Britain yesterday. They are looking to redesign their Auror training methods. It seems that they changed it about thirty years ago during the first war of Darkness and haven't really changed anything since. They are looking for professional input and they thought I could be of some help."
"Oh, of course they did Commander, I mean, you have designed the most efficient program in the world." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm and the older man's shoulders slumped a little more.
"Why can't you just call me Dad?" he mumbled to himself. Sighing heavily he pressed on as if she had never spoken. "I told them that I was unavailable but that I would send one of my top Aurors to come and do the audit for me.. Phoe I want you to go." The statement slapped her roughly in the face. There it was, the ax with the sharpened blade.
"You are shipping me off to England?" she gasped. It was no secret that her world had come to revolve around the axis of evil in Daniel Leads. Until he was brought to justice the chances of peace of mind seemed nil, and along the way to reaching that goal, yes, she had neglected certain things and obsessed over others. Yet no horror imaginable could rival the way her gut twisted to have him tell her that it was for this devotion that she was being punished now. As anger stirred violently she tried to cling vainly to the same rock solid composure her father was famous for by rationalizing his actions. The salty taste of blood tingled her senses as she bite her bottom lip furiously to keep it from quivering as she fought a near impulse to cry and scream at him the way she had when she was six.
"Not 'shipping you off'', by Merlin don't say it that way. You know as well as I do that I wouldn't trust this to anyone else." He growled to himself and leapt out of the chair suddenly pacing across the room and running his hand violently through his hair. "All right enough bullshit. The full moon is in two weeks. I don't want you to be here. Not after what. not after. when Luke." He swore silently to himself and stop abruptly turning to face her with a fierce stare. "Not after what you had to do to Luke at the last one. You don't need the pressure or the reminders. Besides, I hear the shit the rest of the guys say, and I would stop it if I thought it was in my power to do so and you know that-"
"I don't need you protecting me!" Phoenix's head was spinning, she didn't dare stand up for fear she may fall. Her heart plummeted to her stomach at his words it was all because of Luke. She had heard what everyone was saying too. The names and snide remarks were one thing; locker room chitchat never bothered her. No matter what he said, he had listened to things anyone ever had to say about people and he had thought that lesson to his daughter when she was young. She was still struggling against the wall of tears forming behind her eyes, and the knot in her throat was choking her to the point it was becoming hard to breathe. Everything made sense to her now, he must believe her possible. he must think that she... She had become a murderer in his eyes too, it was the only possible explanation for what he was suggesting.
"Damn it Phoenix.Why won't see that I'm doing this for you?" He sighed again and slumped back into the chair, his face unreadable. "It's only for a month or two. I've already arranged everything. Please, for me, do this." He looked back at his hands and waited for her to speak.
She felt her chest constricting and looked back at the tidy stack on papers on the desktop. Don't cry, not now. The room was fading in and out in dark shades of red as her anger and her pain fought ruthlessly inside her. She watched her father's shoulders shudder as he took a deep steadying breath. This man who had been her young hero, her rock, was now crumbling before, mirroring her own internal rubble. She knew without a doubt that all this carnage was her own fault; from being to end it was all her doing, but still she had clung to the hope that he would understand. Now she saw that she was asking too much, wishing for the impossible. She wanted to be far away where she couldn't destroy anyone else's life anymore, where she didn't have to face the disappointment in his eyes. Bitterly a voice from somewhere in the back of her mind chided "That's what he's offering isn't it?" An acid taste rose in her mouth as she realized the truth in the thought. After an infinitely long moment she summoned all of her strength to respond.
"Fine. When do I leave?" Her voice was threatening to crack and she looked up at him with resignation and rage in her eyes.
Startled he stared back as though not believing what he was hearing, "Tomorrow, if that's alright. I will call on Mr. Potter immediately," he blurted. He stood and bustled quickly towards the door as though trying to escape before she could change her mind, but paused as his hand reached the knob. "Phoenix." he started without meeting her eyes, "thank you," he said simply and earnestly, and with that he left. Phoenix stared after him for a few moments then laid her head on her desk. Letting the pent up emotion, fears, and tears rush over her.
"Now you see, deary. Did you see how he carried himself, a very handsome one that. You could take a lesson from-Eeek!" A paperweight sailed across the room missing the mirror by inches.
~*~*~
Rowena made impatient notes in the schedule book and resorted the newest stack of parchments for Mr. Potter by importance of sender. The day was dragging by in its usual tedious fashion and she was overly anxious to be done with it all together. Just get through today, Rowena reminded herself, a tonight you can take a nice long bubblebath with a tall glass of wine. She was debating blowing the lunch money she had set aside for those new robes when the glass door across from her desk was pushed open with a familiar rushing sound. A pale-faced young lady strode through the office with an obvious air of ease and confidence. As she approached the desk Rowena took in her faded blue jeans and pale yellow button up shirt, freshly pressed beneath the nondescript khaki jacket, emitting an easy sense of casual grace. Rowena puzzled over the oddity of her Muggle clothes and noticed that she looked a little out of place in the office lobby where small groups of witches and wizard stood around in their uniform robes, but the stranger didn't seem to notice the disapproving glances they were casting her and at once Ro was amused and interested. Her long blood red hair was meticulously brushed and hung almost to her waist in a dark curtain which swished breezily behind her as came up to the counter. The counter wasn't incredibly high but as she leaned her elbow on the top and pushed herself forward slightly Rowena realized that she was actually quite short, probably not much over 5'4" if that much.
"Howdy," she said with an easy smile as she pushed a pair of sunglasses on to the top of her head. Rowena smiled at the drawl and twang in her southern American accent, her syllables rolled against each other like waves on a quiet beach, "I have an appointment with Mr. Potter today at noon." She glanced at her watch as Rowena checked the schedule book before her although she had memorized the daily list of scheduled visitors when she had first arrived that morning.
"And your name?" she inquired in her friendliest tone. Long ago she had mastered the art of smiling without meaning it, but all of her senses reached out to more about this visitor. Without knowing she felt certain there was something extoridary about this demur presence.
Rowena made a note of the quick dart of her eyes at the other occupants of the office. "Sarah Taylor." Rowena narrowed her eyes, it was a name she had never heard of before and was sure it was no where to be found in Mr. Potter's schedule book. But she pretended to check anyway.
"I'm sorry, Miss Taylor, but-"
The stranger cut her off, "You probably need to see some ID, right?" she edged in a suggesting fashion and winking curiously as she cast another cautious glance at the other lobby dwellers who were beginning to take an interesting in the strange visitor and slowly pulled a small object from the rucksack slung across her chest.
Rowena's curiosity piqued and she played along seamlessly. "Yes. I will," she replied accepting the small silver medallion that was passed to her across to her. The emblem identified it as a Captain's medallion in the service of the American Aurors, the inscription showing its owner to be a part of select group of Auror's specially in the service of the Minister. Remembering the meeting with the other, frankly quite handsome, Auror from overseas Mr. Potter had had the day before she reflexively began to connect the dots. The stranger tipped up on her toes a bit more and leaned uncomfortably across the counter to place a single finger against the cold metal badge. The emblem shimmered for a moment and dissolved to reveal a name that appeared in its place, it identified the owner to actually be named 'Phoenix C. Pendron'. She glanced again at the book to see the same name written in her own hand in the twelve 'o clock slot for that day.
Rowena gaped in astonishment as a rush of excitement that tingled her skin. This was the appointment she had been looking forward to all day long. Since she had come to work for Mr. Potter she had dealt with Junior Ministers, the rich, the powerful, and once she even got to tell the Minister himself that Mr. Potter just wasn't able to see him that day; but none of it had ever really thrilled her. Rowena's interest fell strictly within the realm of the people who worked in the office and not those who visited it, Aurors. Yesterday Mr. Potter had casually told her to pencil in Phoenix Pendron for this slot, the Phoenix Pendron, the Phoenix. Until yesterday she had never considered that the new-day legend of the Phoenix may also be a member of the Pendron family, but when she had heard it, it all made perfect sense. The Pendron line was famous for heroes, why shouldn't she suspect that a line that produced an Auror Commander and a Minister of Magic in two consecutive generation could also spawn the Phoenix whose name was whispered in awe among Auror on the street and around the world everyday. The only thing that kept her excitement in check was the figure that stood before her. The Phoenix was, according to myth, a gigantic figure of near super human strength and lighting fast reflexes. But above all the Phoenix was a man, or was supposed to be a man. Instead she was being asked to believe that hero was instead a heroine, and a rather unimpressive one at that. As she pondered the woman short, stocky frame, she realized that Phoenix was still staring at her, her face painted with a mixture of hope and anticipation; Ro noticed a hint of lines tugging at her mouth and the faint traces of color beneath her eyes. "Thank you Miss Taylor. I will see if Mr. Potter is ready for you." She stranger exhaled and mouthed the words 'Thank you'.
Standing from the desk couldn't help but note that she stood at least a head above the curious Miss Pendron as she turned to the door just left of her desk and rapped softly. The door cracked itself open and she let herself in quietly shutting the door behind her. Once the door was safely shut she rounded on her boss slouched casually behind the desk. Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled kindly at her as he vainly ran a habitual hand over his hair, "Yes Miss Dawes?"
Rowena's curiosity and excitement were building but she did her best to keep her voice calm. "Mr. Potter, you're noon appointment is here, Miss Phoenix Pendron. But although her ID checks out she gave me a false name when she arrived."
"Really.?" Harry's eyebrows arched amusedly. "Well we would hate to keep her waiting," he winked good naturedly at Ro, "Show her in." Feeling slightly disappointed that Harry hadn't had more to say about the curious behavior Rowena nodded and opened the door again, gesturing across the lobby for the visitor to enter the office. As the young woman slipped quietly by her, Rowena moved to let her self out of the office, when she felt a soft hand on her elbow. The shorter woman jerked her head into the office and Rowena cast a confused glance at Harry who merely shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the chairs across from him. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
As Phoenix sagged into the high back chair the painful smile eased from her face, and her shoulders slumped wearily. The bags beneath her eyes seemed to darken as the lines around her mouth etched themselves back into dramatic existence. Rowena glanced at her with concerned as the soft glow of her pale skin faded to a new sickly looking pallor. "Thank you Mr. Potter," she said softly, her accents much softer than it had earlier, and now possessed a hard new edge.
"Can I get you something to drink, Miss Pendron?" Harry asked jovially. "Or am I to understand that you are no longer answering to that name?"
"I'll take a cup of coffee please. And yes, if you don't mind." Harry nodded at Rowena who quickly busied herself at the small serving table in the corner. Still listening intently to the conversation.
"I see no reason why you shouldn't be indulged, but may I ask why you don't trust us enough to allow my Aurors to call you by your proper name." The very air in the room became still as Rowena waited impatiently for the explanation. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see the Phoenix shift slightly at the obvious bite in the question. In a very quite tone she began wearily, "A name is a simple enough thing to most people. But you of all people Mr. Potter should appericate what it feels like to have one's name take on a life of it's own that is not entirely the same as the life of the owner." As Rowena rearranged the coffee cups on the serving tray she caught the faraway look in Harry's eyes as he nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid I have been bitten by my name in several forms. People make certain assumptions about us who come from old families, many of which I take personal offense at. And then there's the fact that my given name has assumed a quite notable life of it's own. Personally I don't know who this "the Phoenix" is but I would be thrilled to meet them someday." Rowena tried not to laugh as she refilled to sugar dish. "But I think mostly I just wish to take some time off from being me to. be myself; something I don't think I'm quite able to do anymore under that title." The last comment caught Rowena as slightly odd as she carefully balanced the tray back towards the desk. She desperately wished to ask what she meant by it, but when she caught the cold look in Phoenix's eye as she stared in the space before her, and the sympathy Mr. Potter's knowing look conveyed she found the words stuck in her throat. Harry cleared his throat and steered the conversation forward, "Yes. I understand, sometimes our name has a way of getting in the way of who we are. Alright, so what shall I call you in the meantime?"
"Sara Taylor. It was my mother's name." Rowena appeared over her shoulder with the tray holding She set the tray on the desk and prepared to finish the drink.
"I think that's quite brilliant. How do you take your coffee Miss Taylor?" Rowena chirped in her friendliest tone. Before she could add anything Phoenix's cup it was from the tray and she began to sip it longingly.
"Black. Thank you, Miss."
"Dawes, Rowena Dawes. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She stood made an effort to stand straight and hold her head high as she extended a greeting hand to Phoenix. For a moment she stood like that feeling a bit foolish as Phoenix pretended to not see her.
"I just wanted to make sure you understood that reasons behind our little charade earlier." The sharp tone of her voice cut through Rowena like a knife. "I trust I can count on your discretion." Ro let her hand drop to her side, what gumption! The statement was condescending and yet Phoenix made no attempt to correct herself, it was obvious that to this pompous figure Rowena was nothing more than an ignorant twit who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. The tip of her tongue hummed with retaliating quips of the nature that she in cases the Phoenix cared to realize she most certainly could be counted on to do more than open doors and serve coffee.
Instead she just replied, "Of course," and returned to her seat. What had she expected, for her to take one look at Ro and immedatily count her as an equal? Why should she? Ro was nothing more than a secretary, and nothing more than a doorstep to the guest. She tried her best not to fume as she silently worked her jaw back in forth in an effort not to appear childishly indignant.
Harry had caught the hurt in Rowena's voice and quickly set out to move pass the insult. "Well now that that is settled, shall we get to business then? Rowena here was good enough to go ahead and make out a schedule for you for the next couple of days, so you could visit some of facilities at your leisure.er. I know I put it here somewhere." he began to rummage through the enormous stacks of parchment that littered his desktop. Rowena slid from her chair a stealthily produced it from seemingly mid-air, "Ah, yes, here you go, thank you Miss Dawes." He handed the parchment across the desk and Phoenix surveyed it briefly nodding.
As she watched Phoenix scan the page she felt a foolish sense of apprehension, hoping that her work was good enough. "Everything looks to be in order," the young woman cringed again at her tone, "Thank you Miss Dawes" the civility was obviously forced, and Rowena merely nodded curtly. "I'll start first thing in the morning. In the meantime I was thinking I would begin by reviewing some of the applications and qualifications your department requires. And if it's not too much trouble, maybe going over some of the history of your training program."
Rowena felt a small sense of victory as she slipped from her seat once more and rummaged through a stack of folders she had placed on a nearby file cabinet the day before. "I thought you might find this helpful. I looked up most of those things as well as brief histories and the annual reports on most of our training facilities." So there, she thought, I'm one step ahead of you.
"She's invaluable," said Harry beaming, "I don't know what we'd do without her." Rowena felt herself blush. She didn't need Harry to compliment her, she wanted this woman to figure out her worth on her own, and she flashed Phoenix a hard glare.
When Phoenix looked back at her Rowena shuddered slightly. Phoenix returned her harsh stare with a dead look. Behind the hardness of her voice were weary eyes, cold and tired. Rowena found herself noticing the slump of shoulders a bit more, along with the way all the lines of her face seemed to pulled down by some invisible force. "I don't doubt it," she held Rowena's gaze as she spoke as though trying to convey a sense of . was that supposed to be an apology? With a sigh she turned back to Harry, "Well it looks like I've got enough here to keep me occupied for a bit." She slipped the folder into her rucksack and stood to shake Harry's hand. "Mr. Potter, it's been a pleasure and you'll hear from me soon, after I've gone through some of this."
The short meeting ended and Rowena returned in a daze to her desk. The Phoenix had been nothing she would have expected and yet more than she could understand, overall she was left with an inexplicable sense of pity for her. The thought was ridiculous, anyone who had earned the fame that the Phoenix had did not deserve and would probably detest pity from anyone, especially someone as menial as Rowena. She remember the way she had talked down to her, like she was fresh from training again, being coddled and under-appreciated. She tried to stay mad at her.. But she couldn't get the picture of those eyes out of her mind.
"Sorry, I'm late again Ro," chirped an annoyingly flirting voice that panted for breath as Rowena glanced up to Julie Sanders flushed face carefully inspecting her hair in a handheld mirror. "I got tied up upstairs, there was this really hot M.L.E.S. guy-"
"Late?" sighed Rowena lost in her own thought and feeling no desire to hear yet another of Julie's hopeless stories.
"Yeah. It is time for your lunch, isn't it?" she looked blankly at Ro with an expression that betrayed her lack of brainpower.
"Oh, yeah." Rowena mumbled blankly and gathered her cloak. "I'll be back in an hour. Don't touch the schedule book and leave the messages-"
"On the blotter. I got it boss. Now go take a break you look exhausted." Rowena sighed and turned away from her immaculate desk. Julie had heard the speech just short of thousand times and never failed to ignore her every instruction.
She strode despondently from the building, cringing in the November breeze and squinting in the mid-day sun. She was still trying to decide where to eat when a cool voice from behind her called, "Lovely day isn't it? Bit chilly for my taste though." She spun around to face Miss Taylor/Miss Pendron leaning casually against the side of the white marble building. A cigarette dangled from her lips and she produced a lighter from her pocket.
"Are you following me?" Rowena accused indignantly.
Phoenix grinned conspiratorially, "Not in so many words. I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat and I was waiting on some one who could suggest a place. So. any suggestions?"
Rowena turned to face the wind stubbornly. "Maybe. I was headed for lunch myself, and was just trying to decide the same thing." "Great. Well you lead and I'll follow." Rowena turned quickly, confusion written on her face as Phoenix strode up next to her.
"Look, I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what your worried about."
Phoenix threw up her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just looking for good food and friendly conversation."
Rowena couldn't figure out this strange new character. One moment she was treating Ro as though she were somewhere between a green recruit and a security risk. But now as she twisted an obviously painful attempt at a sincere smile on to face Rowena felt the strange pangs of sympathy for her. Curiosity finally got the best of her, "Alright, how do you feel about Chinese?"
~*~*~
The noodles had been a bit soggy for Phoenix's taste, but she agreed anyway when Miss Dawes complimented the waiter glowingly. This young woman, who was probably no older or younger than herself, had been nervously making idle chitchat for the last half hour was beginning to become a bore. Silently Phoenix pondered if she had yet finished being nice, making up for her earlier shortness. She hadn't intended to treat the young secretary the way she had, but with her usual charm she had once again managed to piss off an entire room effortlessly. Yet this time she felt as though she she probably try to smooth things over, after all Rowena had been curteous and helpful she had first met. There was a dull throbbing behind her eyes that Phoenix did her best to ignore, it probably wasn't the company, it was the whole assignment she found tedious. If her father had to ship her off somewhere why couldn't it have been somewhere exciting, with something more challenging to occupy her time? Because he probably doesn't trust you with that kind of work anymore, so here's a nice desk job where you can't screw things up, chimed a bitter voice deep in Phoenix's sub-consciousness.
"Sorry. Say that again." Phoenix suddenly realized that Ro, as she insisted on being called, was asking her a question, and she hadn't been paying the slightest attention.
Rowena blushed and repeated her question, "I was just saying it was very exciting to have someone like you work with our program here. Do you have any idea what kind of changes you are going to make?" Phoenix sighed and pulled another cigarette from her bag. Boring.
"No. I have been trying not to think about it 'til I see how the program is already set up. Mostly I think I'll probably just be updating some things. The general opinion is that the whole program is still stuck in the past." Phoenix replied without thought or concern. Silently she wondered if her belongings had arrived at the apartment yet, she still wanted to inspect the neighborhood.
"Amen," commented Rowena earnestly, sipping her coffee, "About time those paranoid old geezers looked around and realized the war has been over for years." Phoenix was suddenly pulled back to the situation at hand; that was by far the most interesting comment she had made all meal.
"You know much about the training situation?" Phoenix asked with interest.
Rowena peered at her curiously for a moment, "Well I would, wouldn't I? I just finished my own training about three years ago." She took another polite sip of her coffee while Phoenix turned this over in her brain dragging heavily from her cigarette.
Trying her best to be tactful, "Are all the secretary's in your' alls offices trained Aurors?" Rowena looked perplexed and then laughed outright. Oh dear Merlin, she must have said something really wrong.
It took Rowena a moment to compose herself, "Oh no, dear no. I'm only working for Harry for a while. I was injured in the line of duty and this is just 'til my reapplication to active duty is pushed through."
Phoenix's afternoon was looking up considerably. This wonderfully efficient secretary was actually in the business. "So you have actual experience on top of access?"
Rowena now surveyed Phoenix's eagerness cautiously before replying, "Well yes I guess. Why?"
"You're perfect!" she exclaimed. With Rowena as a resource she was sure she could complete this mundane assignment in half the time and be home doing real work in no time. "Do you think Potter would release you to help me on this?" Her companion's eye widened. "I'm getting ahead of myself, would you like to help me on this? If so I'm sure I could pull some strings to edge along your active duty application." Rowena's jaw dropped open.
"I would love to! Although a research position doesn't sound much better than what I am doing, no offense," she added hastily, "Still, it would be chance to get out from behind that desk and do something a bit more gratifying. You have no idea how sick I get of people coddling me just because I had a bad run of luck." You'd be surprised, Phoenix thought. "Can I ask you a question?" she edged mischievously.
Phoenix contemplated her for a moment. Had that look been in the eye of someone a little more intimidating she might have refused the offer but coming from Ro she hardly doubted it was anything very complicated. "Fire away."
"Well, I was just wondering. You have to know that your reputation proceeds you, obviously since you are trying to avoid recognition. I cant' help but wonder why someone like you would be pulled off your usual high-profile assignment to go shuffling through our dusty paperwork."
Phoenix nearly ate her cigarette. She made a note to herself not to underestimate this woman's sense of perception ever again. "You see."she stalled. "I guess you and I are in the same boat. I was injured in the line of duty as well. Except mine was a bit more mental than physical. Stress, you know. So I requested an opportunity to take a little break, recuperate, so to speak." She sipped her own coffee and prayed that it was a good enough half-truth.
Rowena eyed her suspiciously for a moment; with practiced control Phoenix resisted the urge to squirm. "Understandable," Rowena said slowly, Phoenix exhaled silently. "But it's not often you meet someone who request downtime, that seems so restless and aggravated with it," she commented innocently. For a moment Phoenix was stunned, but only a moment. You really are off your game, she thought. From the moment she met this woman she had assumed her to be nothing more than a simple-minded paper pusher and memo taker, it was a pleasant surprise to be wrong, very wrong. Phoenix laughed in spite of herself at her own naïveté. Rowena looked smugly across the table.
"I guess I'm going to have to stay on my toes around you, Miss Dawes."
"Well, Miss Pendron, you just may find that I'm full of surprises."
"Please call me Phoenix, or Phoe-anything but Miss Pendron or the Phoenix. And you just may find me a bit surprising as well." Phoenix finished her smoke with a flourish, leaning across the table conspiratorially, "I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful working relationship."
~*~*~
Phoenix checked the fade numbers above the door one last time against the address scribbled in her father's jagged hand. Shrugging she trudged the worn out steps and leaned heavily against the dark tinted glass. The stifling smell of drying herbs hanging from the walls, and thick cloud of mixed incense made Phoenix choke in spite of herself. Worn-out "magical" knickknacks lined the wooden shelves. In the dim light she could make out fake ceremonial candles charms. "Hello," she called loudly. From the back a curtain of beads was pulled aside as plump wrinkled woman wearing a moth eaten skirt and lacey shawl drifted through the shop.
"Hello, my child," she said softly in a scratchy voice. She snatched Phoenix's hand between both of hers and held it firmly, cooing softly. "How can the spirits assist you in your quest?" Phoenix pulled her hand back violently, wiping sticky oil from her palm on her jacket, as she did she caught the faint scent of monkshood. "Perhaps you are in need of good fortune, in love, or money? I have just the thi-"
"What I'm in need of," Phoenix cut her off before the charade continued into a sales pitch, "is an apartment. I was told that someone one here was holding one for me." The woman turned slowly back to face her. She glanced her over suspiciously.
Phoenix rolled her eyes; if the woman tried to consult any sort of crystal ball for her quarters she would hex her on the spot. "I'm sorry dear, we do not have apartments for rent. But maybe if you would like me to ask the winds for advice on where you can hang your hat." This was getting ridiculous. Phoenix paced around a shelf to meet her passing a small box half filled with Knuts. She stared at one for a moment, reading the price, which was set at two pounds each. "Ah, you have very fine taste, my friend. Those are magic coins. Believed to have been used by the Druids to pay the priest for him miracles. To you they will bring great fortune and luck, if you sleep with it beneath you pillow it will protect your dreams." The haggard woman was gesturing mistily and speaking in low cautious tones. Phoenix bit back a laugh.
"Really? I never knew they were so useful. But if you don't mind I think I'll keep my two pounds, I can get them twelve to the Sickle at Gringott's. Thank you for your trouble I'll leave you and the spirits be now." She turned with disgust headed for the door. It was taking her a moment to find it between the tall statues of ancient looking men in robes and tall candleholders.
"Please forgive me dear," said the woman in a much louder more comfortable voice, "You wouldn't believe how many Muggles we get through here a day. We find the shop brings a nice stipend, as well as easy access to our tenants, and a hearty laugh every now and then. If you'll follow me, I think my son is expecting you." Phoenix turned back and smiled at the old woman, who was standing straighter with her hand jauntily on her hips. She lead the way pass a rickety set of stairs Phoenix hadn't noticed before and through the beaded curtain. There was a small storeroom which lead to a small office brightly decorated in soft blues that she hardly believed was part of the same building. On one side stood a simple oak desk before a roaring fireplace, on the other was a small closet that cracked open, emitting a soft glow and faint steam next to a few scrubbed wooden benches. "Wait here dear," said the older lady, gesturing to a chair by the fire. She disappeared through a small door behind the desk, faintly Phoenix heard her call, "Louis! Louis the tenant from the Ministry is here."
While she waited Phoenix lit a cigarette and glanced around, taking in the scene. The desk was immaculate and holding only a ledger full of fresh parchment next to ink well and eagle feather, a calendar, and lamp. The rest of the office seemed to be in similar condition. The wooden benches were lined with labeled vials and canisters. The only thing out of place was a large pestle and mortar set in the middle of one bench. Phoenix smiled to herself and wagered a guess none of those object were present when her father had made his appointment to stop by.
From the other side of the door she heard heavy hurried footsteps and a deep voice muttering, "She's early. You should have come and got me before- " The voice stopped short as it came up to the door. Phoenix turned slightly and saw the figure of a hideously obese man outlined in the frame. As he made his way to the fire where Phoenix sat he threw a cautious glance at the benches and smoothed the few stringy hair across his enormous hand. "Well hello, my mother tells me you are here about the apartment. I'm Mr. Anderson, I'm the landlord here." Phoenix rose and shook his hand politely. His palms were disgustingly sweaty, and she wiped her hand across the leg of her jeans as she sat. The man waddled to a chair and wiggled his large behind into it, must to the protest of the frame and springs. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked innocently.
"I didn't. I am Phoenix Pendron. I was told you were holding an apartment for me." The man's face fell at the shortness, but this time Phoenix did not feel the least bit guilty about it.
"Yes, a gentleman from the Auror's office came by yesterday to make the arrangements. Before we settle you in I guess we should go over the ground rules." Phoenix groaned inwardly. Trust her father to find her a flat with a pompous uptight idiot as the super, who just happen to like rules so he'd have an excuse to keep an eye on her, Phoenix wouldn't have doubted if Charles Pendron was secretly having him report to him on a regular basis.
Phoenix indulged herself in dark paranoid thoughts of her father as the sweaty man continued to pour on about quiet and guest, being courteous, redecorating, and pets. Phoenix smokes two more cigarettes to keep herself calm, and wished for something stronger.
"It's a real cherry of a flat, I hate to see to see it go the Ministry," he heaved. Phoenix groaned and pulled another a cig from her sack. She had been as polite as physically possible for at least twenty minutes; she didn't think she could listen to another round of loathsome conversation.
"Not to be rude, Mr. Anderson, but what does it matter who is living there as long as the rent is paid." He pulled him self up to full height, which was fairly insubstantial, even to someone of Phoenix's stature.
Looking down his pointed nose at her he replied, "I'm not sure I appreciate your attitude missy; the gentleman who came by yesterday was much more civil. He left me his card you know, told me the call on him if there were any problems, I just might have to do so if you don't learn some manners," he wheezed through his nose.
Phoenix had been pondering how much more of this she could stand, she now knew. She had reached the end of her tether. "Listen very carefully. I was not hired for my manners, the credentials of an Auror are more ruthless attention to detail and disgust of wasted time." She leaned forward and took a draw from her cigarette, enjoying the unsettled panicked looked that slacked his flabby cheeks. "You have a choice, you can go ahead and call the Commander. And when you do please explain to him in detail why you are holding up a diplomatic assignment, I'm sure the Minister will be quite interested, as well, since this assignment came strait from his office," the statement's truth brought another pang of resentment which she turned against her squirming host. "While you're at it you can explain to his why you are illegally brewing unregistered potions for sale. Or you can show me the apartment now, before I call them myself."
Anderson's face went from red to purple and he sputtered like a dried out fish, "Why you.you can't threaten me-"
"I don't threaten Mr. Anderson; I make promises. So unless you have a better explanation for that smell of Withering Potion coming from the closet there and the monkshood on that bench that your mother was preparing earlier, and the fact that I have no where seen a properly displayed apothecary license . I suggest we head upstairs." Phoenix smiled wickedly as the fat man twisted uncomfortably in his high back chair.
"The first of you boxes arrived this morning, I'll get the key," he said weakly. As he heaved himself from the chair the springs popped with relief. Scuttling across the room he draped a towel over the airing potions ingredients before producing a key from the cupboard. Maybe I'm not as out of practice as I thought I was, Phoenix thought with a grin as he led the way to the stairs.
Phoenix was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest of the building bared no resemblance to the Muggle-trapping shop on the first floor. Just past the first floor the stairs turned became much sturdier, and their trudging footfalls were muffled by thick rich carpet. By the time they had reached the third floor landing the old balding man looked as though he may pass out; she eyed him wearily with disgust. The hallway was brightly lit and with the same rich carpet and tasteful decorating. As they passed the first few doors Phoenix heard the muffled sounds of light conversation and wireless sets, for the most part the corridor was pleasantly quiet, most people were probably still at work.
"It's just down here, Apartment 3G. Two bedrooms and one and a half bath, seems a shame to waste it on one person, but as you said, as long as the rent's paid. It's completely furnished," he panted, " the last tenant, lovely witch, very quiet," he said suggestively. "Her sister moved out a few months ago to attend the University. She married some rich French wizard and didn't need to take the furniture with her." Phoenix pondered if her was this open with the stories of everyone's life that lived in the building; it could make him a security risk she thought as she watched him fumble with the key. "It has a lovely view of the square. There's a market and an apothecary, just across they way. But for most things you'll find Diagon Alley a bit more convenient-" Phoenix was losing patience again and snatched the small silver key from his fat bumbling fingers and opened the door herself.
The stifling smell of wildflowers hit her immediately, turning up her nose. As she entered the small hallway she noted a small kitchen to her right and through the doorway to her left she could just make out the deep fireplace that rose almost to the ceiling. Mr. Anderson began to scuttle in behind her, "If you'll follow me down-"
Phoenix threw her arm across the frame preventing his passage, "I think I can find my way from here," she said in a monotone voice.
"Oh yes, I suppose so." He shuffled his feet nervously in the hall, "You aren't going to tell anyone-"
"About your illegal activities? Not unless I find you to be a nuisance. Good day Mr. Anderson." Phoenix shut the door in his tubby face, rolling her eyes to his muffled comments through the door. Before heading down the hall she cast a quick silencing and alarm charm over the portal and slung her jacket on the hall tree. With a scrutinizing eye she made her way through the flat.
On the wall to the left just opposite the door hung an ornate mirror over a small end table, Phoenix made a note to move it to the right wall so she could see the doorway in it from the living room. A brief inspection of the kitchen found it to be full equipped with a cold closet, stove, and sink as well as a small table with two wooden chairs. The smell of charcoal permeated the tablecloth and Phoenix resolved the rich French wizard hadn't married the previous tenant for her cooking skills.
At the end of the short hallway stood two large French doors that opened on to a small balcony over looking the square. Phoenix quickly ascertained the security risk and cast a few reinforment and locking spells over the glass, deciding to investigate the neighbors later. Two large arched doors on the right opened into the general living room. One just inside the entrance and the other directly across from a small bedroom that Phoenix decided to make her temporary office. After rapidly transfiguring the bed into a large desk and the nightstand to a chair she inspected the closet space. Her Auror's trunk would fit nicely in there with a few distraction charms, to keep it from notice.
The living room was large, stretching from the hallway side of the apartment all the way to the outside wall. Three large windows stretched from floor to ceiling on either side of the enormous fireplace. Sighing Phoenix turned her attention to this first. The fireplace was large enough to stand in with at least eight inches before one stepped away from the flames and out of the hearth. Only someone who only traveled by Floo would waste so much money on such an extravagant fireplace, the quiet witch was probably too afraid to apparate or hadn't passed her test. She made a note to calculate the effect it's size would make to her standard wards before casting them over such a large space. After securing the windows she took in the prim furnishing. A large couch with a floral slipcover faced the fireplace with end tables on each side with large gaudy lamps. Phoenix spun the couch to face the hallway wall, where she could view her mirror. In the process she had to rearrange the small dining table and bookcases. Satisfied with the results she proceeded through the doorway to the back.
To her right now stood the bathroom, which quickly revealed adequate space and utilities, to her left stood what appeared to be the other bedroom. It was only slightly larger than the other bedroom, with roughly the same view of the neighborhood, for a moment she contemplated moving her office to the larger room, but decided against it for the practical reason it was too far from the bathroom.
Phoenix returned to the main room, satisfied with the dwelling. In the states she had lived with her family in the ancestral manor Pendron Place, this apartment could be dropped in the house elves working/living quarters and lost she thought grumpily.
Still she couldn't deny that someone had probably paid a pretty penny for the place, and she didn't believe for a moment that the Ministry would have bothered. No this rent was coming from her father's own pocket, serves him right.
She seated herself on the couch and summoned her boxes from where they were neatly stacked by the table. Digging roughly through the first box she produced her incense holder and immediately set about to rid the place of the stench of overpowering wildflowers and replace it with faithful sandalwood.
For a few moments Phoenix let the sweet musky smoke wash over her. It had always been here favorite scent, simple and natural it reminded her of the Muggle tobacco fields in the ravine beneath her old home. When she was young her oldest nephew Bolt and her would play hide-and-go-seek in those field, much to the dismay of her brother who would have to repair the damage before the neighboring farmers discovered the mess. She inhaled deeply and recalled the cologne Luke had worn on their first date, after long months of pleading on his part. A lump rose in her throat as she surrendered herself to the rush of similar memories; the twinkle in his eye before they embarked on any of their numerous dangerous schemes, the way he would run his hand through his hair when he was concentrating, causing it to stand at brutal angles, the pain on his face the night she had told she didn't return his feelings the same way. She screwed her eyes closed, shaking herself violently. This wasn't being helpful.
She returned to the couch and started rummaging through the other boxes. All of her essentials were here, neatly packed by the house staff the previous evening, pushing these aside she pulled out the crate she had packed herself with all of her personal items. The stack of pictures on top waved pleasantly, Phoenix felt the weight ease from her shoulders as she smiled back at familiar faces. Pulling out books and knick-knacks she came to a small leather pouch. Gently she pulled the string apart and emptied the bag into her lap. There was a pinecone from the trees in their back yard, her mother's wedding band, and the honorary Auror's badge she had received when her father had taken her to work that one-day when she was twelve. As she gently sorted through the tokens she felt something small slip between her knees to the floor. Cursing softly she carefully returned the memories to the soft leather bag and bent down to retrieve the lost item. It took a few moments to find it in the stack of boxes and frames she had scattered across the floor. Convincing herself that she defiantly felt something fall she got down on her knees and rummaged through the mess. When she lifted the edge of the sofa cover she saw it.
For a moment all she could manage to do was gape. A black onyx stone glinted gently from the silver band, she had completely forgot storing that ring there. Hesitantly she lifted it from the carpet and stared at it in the palm of her hand. The ring still shone magnificently, she had only worn it a handful of times. Forcibly she remembered the day Luke had given it to her. It was on the anniversary of their first date, over a year from the day she had told him it just wasn't meant to be. They had been working late in the office, planning the final details of the fateful raid that would ruin everything. When he had slid the small velvet box across the table she remembered feeling deeply resentful and hurt that he was willing to ignore the friendship they had built to vainly pursue a lost romance. But Luke had insisted that he wasn't implying that any old fires be rekindled, it was meant to be a friendship ring, a token of the bond that joined them as only best friends could be. To Phoenix it had become a sign of the way he had truly felt about her, even though her had never kept it much of a secret, a token that said he would always be there for her if she needed him and that all he wanted was her loyal friendship with no strings attached. It hadn't been long after that the raid had failed and their lives had been forever changed. If only it hadn't of been silver, she thought, I might have still been wearing it. Without permission a vision of the last night she seen Luke flashed before her eyes in horrific slow motion, chilling her bones.
"NO!" she screamed to the empty apartment. Violently she threw the ring into the box and slung them across the room with her wand to a heavy thudding sound. She wouldn't remember, she wasn't allowed to remember. Guilt descended slowly on to her shoulders. There were excuses and rationalizations that could be made, but none of them replaced the fact that she had let him down in the most painful possible way. There was nothing that change could the fact that she had acted in a way he would never have forgiven her for, that his love for her would not have allowed her to.
Resolutely she stood from the couch. Tears threaten to fall as she marched to the hallway and retrieved the folders Rowena had prepared for her. Desperately wanting to escape the hell that had become her existence through her own choices and failures she threw herself into her work vigorously. The sun was threatening to rise before Phoenix reemerged from the study. Her head was throbbing and eyes weary from reading as she stumbled toward the sofa.
In the pale predawn light she could only just see the outline of the boxes messily clumped in the corner where she had cast them. For several long minutes she stared at them daringly, before finally giving in and pulling her wand. "Accio ring," she croaked as the small loop sailed to her palm. The metal was cold and familiar as she slipped it on her finger. She drifted off to sleep gazing at the simplicity and beauty of the token, mirroring the traits of the truest friend she would ever lose.
Phoenix would like for me to inform you that she has a small disclaimer of her own: She too belongs to no one, nor does she take orders from anyone who does not have proper identification to be her superior officer (and only then if she's feeling generous). She is not wonder woman or a saint; she smokes too much, drinks too much, curses too much, and is too often rude. For her money anyone who has a problem with her behavior can. well if you really want to know what she thinks you should do, you should probably ask her yourself, since I don't think it dignifies repeating. ************************************************************************
Phoenix lazily traced the gold emboss of her name with an empty quill. There was work to be done and files to looked through, but she just couldn't make herself focus on anything as menial as layers of bureaucratic nonsense when she knew her duty was not yet done. The last several days had predictably left her feeling useless and aggravated, the harder she chased loose ends the faster they seemed to unravel in her fingers. It was hard not to get discouraged when everyone around her was giving into the idea that Leads truly had disappeared, probably for good this time. Those people were not haunted by his continual invasion of their dreams. For them it was easy to forget, but nothing could make her forget or give in until she held his life between her own two hands with the same stranglehold he had held her for the last year with his constant invisible presence. When the endlessly dismal thoughts became too much for her she got up from the desk with a sigh and walked across the small office to where large, delicately decorated mirror hung just opposite the door. She gazed back into her own pale green eyes, and ran her fingers through her long red hair.
"You don't look like your getting enough sleep, dear," cooed the mirror gently. She poked at the dark circles under her eyes and the lines forming around her mouth.
"It's overrated," she mumbled in response. She really was too young to be looking like this, hell she was too young to be feeling like this.
"Oh, no, deary. Everyone needs their beauty sleep; eight hours would be ideal, nine hours would be better; maybe you should just make a weekend of it. You know it would help also help immensely if you would run a brush through that hair a little more often, and it couldn't hurt to lay off the snacks," the mirror chirped.
She stood speechless for a moment. Had the mirror not been a birthday present from her youngest niece, Sarah, she would have considered tossing it out in her growing frustration, or just breaking it out right for the satisfying shatter. "Thanks a hell of a lot. Where do you get off anyway?"
"Oh well honey I am a certified Celestia Dreamlock Vanity Mirror, and you don't have to thank me it's my job to make you into the best you, you can be. But in your case that could take some work."
Phoenix blinked in disbelief, clenching and unclenching her fist. This she just did not need right now. She walked determinedly back to her desk and pulled out a new stack of work. Count on Sarah to buy her a beauty mirror of all things. She made a mental note to take the blasted thing home that evening. Beauty mirrors had absolutely no place in the office of an Auror. For that matter they had no place in her life at all. Her niece was always telling her that she could be pretty if she would just put a little effort into it. When Sarah was younger Phoenix had played along, surrendering herself to long hours of playing dress-up. But now that Sarah was thankfully too preoccupied with her own appearance Phoenix would rather go one on one with a stampeding manticore than attempt a glamour charm.
Scribbling furiously across a new page of parchment Phoenix didn't even seem to hear the door quietly click open, or see the man striding silently across the room. He was tall with thick, dignified silver hair and his broad shoulders were draped in dark blue robes that accented a full muscular frame. With the same pale green eyes as the woman behind the desk he surveyed her silently while similar lines etched around his tight-lipped mouth. "Don't believe in knocking anymore, huh?" Phoenix snapped, not moving her eyes from the page, when he had gaped at her without speaking longer than her tolerance could bear.
"Knocking would imply I was asking for permission." The statement was simple and effective. Phoenix looked up at him slowly, taking in the determined set of his shoulders and the piercing stare in his eyes. His manner set her instantly on edge; unconsciously she fingered her wand where it lay beside her ledger.
The visual standoff lasted a few infinite moments before she sighed and gestured to the seat across from her. "So. I take it that this meeting is business and not pleasure," she said trying to sound cool and in control.
He folded his hands slowly and gazed down at the floor, Phoenix suspicions rose when he refused to meet her eyes with his typical direct manner. "Not much pleasure to be had, to be honest, or I'd be sure to pass it on. I have an assignment for you." He didn't waste time getting to the point of his visit and his frankness sent up Phoenix's hackles. There was only one place a conversation like this could be heading, and she had been dreading it for days.
"Da-" she stopped herself and forced calm into her voice. No point jumping the gun even if her nerves were ringing out in unbelievable falsetto keys. Her instincts were legendarily sharp and at this moment they told her that the last thing anyone needed was for her to lose her composure. Chiseling a stone expression to her face she began to try again. "Commander, I already have an assignment. The Leads case," there was an insuppressible note of panic and pleading in her voice that she cursed herself for.
"No one has seen hide nor hair of Leads in weeks, the simple fact of the matter is that all of our leads have dried up; it looks like he just might have actually gone into hiding somewhere we can't reach him." Other than his lack of direct eye contact she could tell nothing different from his usually frankness and authoritative manner, silently she cursed him for being so control of himself when she was barely hanging on. "Besides you are not in any state to keep working this case. Phoenix, you are killing yourself here. You aren't sleeping, you aren't eating-not anything good for you anyway," he glanced despondently at the mounting stack of junk food wrappers piling up on her desk, "you won't talk to anyone, not even Jon and Bolt, it's just not like you Phoe."
"So what are you going to have me do instead," she snarled. He cringed slightly at her. Phoenix's fuse was measurably short and burning fast. What did it matter to him what she did with herself, as far as she was concerned there was a job to be done, and if she didn't have time for the little things like sleeping, eating full meals, or wasting time shooting the shit with her brother and nephew, then her commander should be happy she was putting her work first. The harder she tried to repress her anger the quicker it boiled pushing closer and closer to the top. "Let me guess. the old man in Dallas who put the Impedimenta curse on his dog to make him bite the mailman, or then there's the lady in New York who bought a book on Dark Potions and served it to her bridge club. What Commander, what will you have me do?"
He looked wearily at her and as he met her eyes for the first time she was amazed to find that he seem to be pulling from his seemingly infinite source of personal strength just to be speaking, the very idea sent a cold chill racing down her spine. "Phoenix, you have to realize my concern here. After what happen. with Luke. you are really starting to scare me, I've never seen you push yourself as hard as you have these last two weeks." When she made no response he doggedly returned to staring at the floor. "Your brother received a notice from the Minister in Britain yesterday. They are looking to redesign their Auror training methods. It seems that they changed it about thirty years ago during the first war of Darkness and haven't really changed anything since. They are looking for professional input and they thought I could be of some help."
"Oh, of course they did Commander, I mean, you have designed the most efficient program in the world." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm and the older man's shoulders slumped a little more.
"Why can't you just call me Dad?" he mumbled to himself. Sighing heavily he pressed on as if she had never spoken. "I told them that I was unavailable but that I would send one of my top Aurors to come and do the audit for me.. Phoe I want you to go." The statement slapped her roughly in the face. There it was, the ax with the sharpened blade.
"You are shipping me off to England?" she gasped. It was no secret that her world had come to revolve around the axis of evil in Daniel Leads. Until he was brought to justice the chances of peace of mind seemed nil, and along the way to reaching that goal, yes, she had neglected certain things and obsessed over others. Yet no horror imaginable could rival the way her gut twisted to have him tell her that it was for this devotion that she was being punished now. As anger stirred violently she tried to cling vainly to the same rock solid composure her father was famous for by rationalizing his actions. The salty taste of blood tingled her senses as she bite her bottom lip furiously to keep it from quivering as she fought a near impulse to cry and scream at him the way she had when she was six.
"Not 'shipping you off'', by Merlin don't say it that way. You know as well as I do that I wouldn't trust this to anyone else." He growled to himself and leapt out of the chair suddenly pacing across the room and running his hand violently through his hair. "All right enough bullshit. The full moon is in two weeks. I don't want you to be here. Not after what. not after. when Luke." He swore silently to himself and stop abruptly turning to face her with a fierce stare. "Not after what you had to do to Luke at the last one. You don't need the pressure or the reminders. Besides, I hear the shit the rest of the guys say, and I would stop it if I thought it was in my power to do so and you know that-"
"I don't need you protecting me!" Phoenix's head was spinning, she didn't dare stand up for fear she may fall. Her heart plummeted to her stomach at his words it was all because of Luke. She had heard what everyone was saying too. The names and snide remarks were one thing; locker room chitchat never bothered her. No matter what he said, he had listened to things anyone ever had to say about people and he had thought that lesson to his daughter when she was young. She was still struggling against the wall of tears forming behind her eyes, and the knot in her throat was choking her to the point it was becoming hard to breathe. Everything made sense to her now, he must believe her possible. he must think that she... She had become a murderer in his eyes too, it was the only possible explanation for what he was suggesting.
"Damn it Phoenix.Why won't see that I'm doing this for you?" He sighed again and slumped back into the chair, his face unreadable. "It's only for a month or two. I've already arranged everything. Please, for me, do this." He looked back at his hands and waited for her to speak.
She felt her chest constricting and looked back at the tidy stack on papers on the desktop. Don't cry, not now. The room was fading in and out in dark shades of red as her anger and her pain fought ruthlessly inside her. She watched her father's shoulders shudder as he took a deep steadying breath. This man who had been her young hero, her rock, was now crumbling before, mirroring her own internal rubble. She knew without a doubt that all this carnage was her own fault; from being to end it was all her doing, but still she had clung to the hope that he would understand. Now she saw that she was asking too much, wishing for the impossible. She wanted to be far away where she couldn't destroy anyone else's life anymore, where she didn't have to face the disappointment in his eyes. Bitterly a voice from somewhere in the back of her mind chided "That's what he's offering isn't it?" An acid taste rose in her mouth as she realized the truth in the thought. After an infinitely long moment she summoned all of her strength to respond.
"Fine. When do I leave?" Her voice was threatening to crack and she looked up at him with resignation and rage in her eyes.
Startled he stared back as though not believing what he was hearing, "Tomorrow, if that's alright. I will call on Mr. Potter immediately," he blurted. He stood and bustled quickly towards the door as though trying to escape before she could change her mind, but paused as his hand reached the knob. "Phoenix." he started without meeting her eyes, "thank you," he said simply and earnestly, and with that he left. Phoenix stared after him for a few moments then laid her head on her desk. Letting the pent up emotion, fears, and tears rush over her.
"Now you see, deary. Did you see how he carried himself, a very handsome one that. You could take a lesson from-Eeek!" A paperweight sailed across the room missing the mirror by inches.
~*~*~
Rowena made impatient notes in the schedule book and resorted the newest stack of parchments for Mr. Potter by importance of sender. The day was dragging by in its usual tedious fashion and she was overly anxious to be done with it all together. Just get through today, Rowena reminded herself, a tonight you can take a nice long bubblebath with a tall glass of wine. She was debating blowing the lunch money she had set aside for those new robes when the glass door across from her desk was pushed open with a familiar rushing sound. A pale-faced young lady strode through the office with an obvious air of ease and confidence. As she approached the desk Rowena took in her faded blue jeans and pale yellow button up shirt, freshly pressed beneath the nondescript khaki jacket, emitting an easy sense of casual grace. Rowena puzzled over the oddity of her Muggle clothes and noticed that she looked a little out of place in the office lobby where small groups of witches and wizard stood around in their uniform robes, but the stranger didn't seem to notice the disapproving glances they were casting her and at once Ro was amused and interested. Her long blood red hair was meticulously brushed and hung almost to her waist in a dark curtain which swished breezily behind her as came up to the counter. The counter wasn't incredibly high but as she leaned her elbow on the top and pushed herself forward slightly Rowena realized that she was actually quite short, probably not much over 5'4" if that much.
"Howdy," she said with an easy smile as she pushed a pair of sunglasses on to the top of her head. Rowena smiled at the drawl and twang in her southern American accent, her syllables rolled against each other like waves on a quiet beach, "I have an appointment with Mr. Potter today at noon." She glanced at her watch as Rowena checked the schedule book before her although she had memorized the daily list of scheduled visitors when she had first arrived that morning.
"And your name?" she inquired in her friendliest tone. Long ago she had mastered the art of smiling without meaning it, but all of her senses reached out to more about this visitor. Without knowing she felt certain there was something extoridary about this demur presence.
Rowena made a note of the quick dart of her eyes at the other occupants of the office. "Sarah Taylor." Rowena narrowed her eyes, it was a name she had never heard of before and was sure it was no where to be found in Mr. Potter's schedule book. But she pretended to check anyway.
"I'm sorry, Miss Taylor, but-"
The stranger cut her off, "You probably need to see some ID, right?" she edged in a suggesting fashion and winking curiously as she cast another cautious glance at the other lobby dwellers who were beginning to take an interesting in the strange visitor and slowly pulled a small object from the rucksack slung across her chest.
Rowena's curiosity piqued and she played along seamlessly. "Yes. I will," she replied accepting the small silver medallion that was passed to her across to her. The emblem identified it as a Captain's medallion in the service of the American Aurors, the inscription showing its owner to be a part of select group of Auror's specially in the service of the Minister. Remembering the meeting with the other, frankly quite handsome, Auror from overseas Mr. Potter had had the day before she reflexively began to connect the dots. The stranger tipped up on her toes a bit more and leaned uncomfortably across the counter to place a single finger against the cold metal badge. The emblem shimmered for a moment and dissolved to reveal a name that appeared in its place, it identified the owner to actually be named 'Phoenix C. Pendron'. She glanced again at the book to see the same name written in her own hand in the twelve 'o clock slot for that day.
Rowena gaped in astonishment as a rush of excitement that tingled her skin. This was the appointment she had been looking forward to all day long. Since she had come to work for Mr. Potter she had dealt with Junior Ministers, the rich, the powerful, and once she even got to tell the Minister himself that Mr. Potter just wasn't able to see him that day; but none of it had ever really thrilled her. Rowena's interest fell strictly within the realm of the people who worked in the office and not those who visited it, Aurors. Yesterday Mr. Potter had casually told her to pencil in Phoenix Pendron for this slot, the Phoenix Pendron, the Phoenix. Until yesterday she had never considered that the new-day legend of the Phoenix may also be a member of the Pendron family, but when she had heard it, it all made perfect sense. The Pendron line was famous for heroes, why shouldn't she suspect that a line that produced an Auror Commander and a Minister of Magic in two consecutive generation could also spawn the Phoenix whose name was whispered in awe among Auror on the street and around the world everyday. The only thing that kept her excitement in check was the figure that stood before her. The Phoenix was, according to myth, a gigantic figure of near super human strength and lighting fast reflexes. But above all the Phoenix was a man, or was supposed to be a man. Instead she was being asked to believe that hero was instead a heroine, and a rather unimpressive one at that. As she pondered the woman short, stocky frame, she realized that Phoenix was still staring at her, her face painted with a mixture of hope and anticipation; Ro noticed a hint of lines tugging at her mouth and the faint traces of color beneath her eyes. "Thank you Miss Taylor. I will see if Mr. Potter is ready for you." She stranger exhaled and mouthed the words 'Thank you'.
Standing from the desk couldn't help but note that she stood at least a head above the curious Miss Pendron as she turned to the door just left of her desk and rapped softly. The door cracked itself open and she let herself in quietly shutting the door behind her. Once the door was safely shut she rounded on her boss slouched casually behind the desk. Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled kindly at her as he vainly ran a habitual hand over his hair, "Yes Miss Dawes?"
Rowena's curiosity and excitement were building but she did her best to keep her voice calm. "Mr. Potter, you're noon appointment is here, Miss Phoenix Pendron. But although her ID checks out she gave me a false name when she arrived."
"Really.?" Harry's eyebrows arched amusedly. "Well we would hate to keep her waiting," he winked good naturedly at Ro, "Show her in." Feeling slightly disappointed that Harry hadn't had more to say about the curious behavior Rowena nodded and opened the door again, gesturing across the lobby for the visitor to enter the office. As the young woman slipped quietly by her, Rowena moved to let her self out of the office, when she felt a soft hand on her elbow. The shorter woman jerked her head into the office and Rowena cast a confused glance at Harry who merely shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the chairs across from him. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
As Phoenix sagged into the high back chair the painful smile eased from her face, and her shoulders slumped wearily. The bags beneath her eyes seemed to darken as the lines around her mouth etched themselves back into dramatic existence. Rowena glanced at her with concerned as the soft glow of her pale skin faded to a new sickly looking pallor. "Thank you Mr. Potter," she said softly, her accents much softer than it had earlier, and now possessed a hard new edge.
"Can I get you something to drink, Miss Pendron?" Harry asked jovially. "Or am I to understand that you are no longer answering to that name?"
"I'll take a cup of coffee please. And yes, if you don't mind." Harry nodded at Rowena who quickly busied herself at the small serving table in the corner. Still listening intently to the conversation.
"I see no reason why you shouldn't be indulged, but may I ask why you don't trust us enough to allow my Aurors to call you by your proper name." The very air in the room became still as Rowena waited impatiently for the explanation. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to see the Phoenix shift slightly at the obvious bite in the question. In a very quite tone she began wearily, "A name is a simple enough thing to most people. But you of all people Mr. Potter should appericate what it feels like to have one's name take on a life of it's own that is not entirely the same as the life of the owner." As Rowena rearranged the coffee cups on the serving tray she caught the faraway look in Harry's eyes as he nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid I have been bitten by my name in several forms. People make certain assumptions about us who come from old families, many of which I take personal offense at. And then there's the fact that my given name has assumed a quite notable life of it's own. Personally I don't know who this "the Phoenix" is but I would be thrilled to meet them someday." Rowena tried not to laugh as she refilled to sugar dish. "But I think mostly I just wish to take some time off from being me to. be myself; something I don't think I'm quite able to do anymore under that title." The last comment caught Rowena as slightly odd as she carefully balanced the tray back towards the desk. She desperately wished to ask what she meant by it, but when she caught the cold look in Phoenix's eye as she stared in the space before her, and the sympathy Mr. Potter's knowing look conveyed she found the words stuck in her throat. Harry cleared his throat and steered the conversation forward, "Yes. I understand, sometimes our name has a way of getting in the way of who we are. Alright, so what shall I call you in the meantime?"
"Sara Taylor. It was my mother's name." Rowena appeared over her shoulder with the tray holding She set the tray on the desk and prepared to finish the drink.
"I think that's quite brilliant. How do you take your coffee Miss Taylor?" Rowena chirped in her friendliest tone. Before she could add anything Phoenix's cup it was from the tray and she began to sip it longingly.
"Black. Thank you, Miss."
"Dawes, Rowena Dawes. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She stood made an effort to stand straight and hold her head high as she extended a greeting hand to Phoenix. For a moment she stood like that feeling a bit foolish as Phoenix pretended to not see her.
"I just wanted to make sure you understood that reasons behind our little charade earlier." The sharp tone of her voice cut through Rowena like a knife. "I trust I can count on your discretion." Ro let her hand drop to her side, what gumption! The statement was condescending and yet Phoenix made no attempt to correct herself, it was obvious that to this pompous figure Rowena was nothing more than an ignorant twit who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. The tip of her tongue hummed with retaliating quips of the nature that she in cases the Phoenix cared to realize she most certainly could be counted on to do more than open doors and serve coffee.
Instead she just replied, "Of course," and returned to her seat. What had she expected, for her to take one look at Ro and immedatily count her as an equal? Why should she? Ro was nothing more than a secretary, and nothing more than a doorstep to the guest. She tried her best not to fume as she silently worked her jaw back in forth in an effort not to appear childishly indignant.
Harry had caught the hurt in Rowena's voice and quickly set out to move pass the insult. "Well now that that is settled, shall we get to business then? Rowena here was good enough to go ahead and make out a schedule for you for the next couple of days, so you could visit some of facilities at your leisure.er. I know I put it here somewhere." he began to rummage through the enormous stacks of parchment that littered his desktop. Rowena slid from her chair a stealthily produced it from seemingly mid-air, "Ah, yes, here you go, thank you Miss Dawes." He handed the parchment across the desk and Phoenix surveyed it briefly nodding.
As she watched Phoenix scan the page she felt a foolish sense of apprehension, hoping that her work was good enough. "Everything looks to be in order," the young woman cringed again at her tone, "Thank you Miss Dawes" the civility was obviously forced, and Rowena merely nodded curtly. "I'll start first thing in the morning. In the meantime I was thinking I would begin by reviewing some of the applications and qualifications your department requires. And if it's not too much trouble, maybe going over some of the history of your training program."
Rowena felt a small sense of victory as she slipped from her seat once more and rummaged through a stack of folders she had placed on a nearby file cabinet the day before. "I thought you might find this helpful. I looked up most of those things as well as brief histories and the annual reports on most of our training facilities." So there, she thought, I'm one step ahead of you.
"She's invaluable," said Harry beaming, "I don't know what we'd do without her." Rowena felt herself blush. She didn't need Harry to compliment her, she wanted this woman to figure out her worth on her own, and she flashed Phoenix a hard glare.
When Phoenix looked back at her Rowena shuddered slightly. Phoenix returned her harsh stare with a dead look. Behind the hardness of her voice were weary eyes, cold and tired. Rowena found herself noticing the slump of shoulders a bit more, along with the way all the lines of her face seemed to pulled down by some invisible force. "I don't doubt it," she held Rowena's gaze as she spoke as though trying to convey a sense of . was that supposed to be an apology? With a sigh she turned back to Harry, "Well it looks like I've got enough here to keep me occupied for a bit." She slipped the folder into her rucksack and stood to shake Harry's hand. "Mr. Potter, it's been a pleasure and you'll hear from me soon, after I've gone through some of this."
The short meeting ended and Rowena returned in a daze to her desk. The Phoenix had been nothing she would have expected and yet more than she could understand, overall she was left with an inexplicable sense of pity for her. The thought was ridiculous, anyone who had earned the fame that the Phoenix had did not deserve and would probably detest pity from anyone, especially someone as menial as Rowena. She remember the way she had talked down to her, like she was fresh from training again, being coddled and under-appreciated. She tried to stay mad at her.. But she couldn't get the picture of those eyes out of her mind.
"Sorry, I'm late again Ro," chirped an annoyingly flirting voice that panted for breath as Rowena glanced up to Julie Sanders flushed face carefully inspecting her hair in a handheld mirror. "I got tied up upstairs, there was this really hot M.L.E.S. guy-"
"Late?" sighed Rowena lost in her own thought and feeling no desire to hear yet another of Julie's hopeless stories.
"Yeah. It is time for your lunch, isn't it?" she looked blankly at Ro with an expression that betrayed her lack of brainpower.
"Oh, yeah." Rowena mumbled blankly and gathered her cloak. "I'll be back in an hour. Don't touch the schedule book and leave the messages-"
"On the blotter. I got it boss. Now go take a break you look exhausted." Rowena sighed and turned away from her immaculate desk. Julie had heard the speech just short of thousand times and never failed to ignore her every instruction.
She strode despondently from the building, cringing in the November breeze and squinting in the mid-day sun. She was still trying to decide where to eat when a cool voice from behind her called, "Lovely day isn't it? Bit chilly for my taste though." She spun around to face Miss Taylor/Miss Pendron leaning casually against the side of the white marble building. A cigarette dangled from her lips and she produced a lighter from her pocket.
"Are you following me?" Rowena accused indignantly.
Phoenix grinned conspiratorially, "Not in so many words. I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat and I was waiting on some one who could suggest a place. So. any suggestions?"
Rowena turned to face the wind stubbornly. "Maybe. I was headed for lunch myself, and was just trying to decide the same thing." "Great. Well you lead and I'll follow." Rowena turned quickly, confusion written on her face as Phoenix strode up next to her.
"Look, I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what your worried about."
Phoenix threw up her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just looking for good food and friendly conversation."
Rowena couldn't figure out this strange new character. One moment she was treating Ro as though she were somewhere between a green recruit and a security risk. But now as she twisted an obviously painful attempt at a sincere smile on to face Rowena felt the strange pangs of sympathy for her. Curiosity finally got the best of her, "Alright, how do you feel about Chinese?"
~*~*~
The noodles had been a bit soggy for Phoenix's taste, but she agreed anyway when Miss Dawes complimented the waiter glowingly. This young woman, who was probably no older or younger than herself, had been nervously making idle chitchat for the last half hour was beginning to become a bore. Silently Phoenix pondered if she had yet finished being nice, making up for her earlier shortness. She hadn't intended to treat the young secretary the way she had, but with her usual charm she had once again managed to piss off an entire room effortlessly. Yet this time she felt as though she she probably try to smooth things over, after all Rowena had been curteous and helpful she had first met. There was a dull throbbing behind her eyes that Phoenix did her best to ignore, it probably wasn't the company, it was the whole assignment she found tedious. If her father had to ship her off somewhere why couldn't it have been somewhere exciting, with something more challenging to occupy her time? Because he probably doesn't trust you with that kind of work anymore, so here's a nice desk job where you can't screw things up, chimed a bitter voice deep in Phoenix's sub-consciousness.
"Sorry. Say that again." Phoenix suddenly realized that Ro, as she insisted on being called, was asking her a question, and she hadn't been paying the slightest attention.
Rowena blushed and repeated her question, "I was just saying it was very exciting to have someone like you work with our program here. Do you have any idea what kind of changes you are going to make?" Phoenix sighed and pulled another cigarette from her bag. Boring.
"No. I have been trying not to think about it 'til I see how the program is already set up. Mostly I think I'll probably just be updating some things. The general opinion is that the whole program is still stuck in the past." Phoenix replied without thought or concern. Silently she wondered if her belongings had arrived at the apartment yet, she still wanted to inspect the neighborhood.
"Amen," commented Rowena earnestly, sipping her coffee, "About time those paranoid old geezers looked around and realized the war has been over for years." Phoenix was suddenly pulled back to the situation at hand; that was by far the most interesting comment she had made all meal.
"You know much about the training situation?" Phoenix asked with interest.
Rowena peered at her curiously for a moment, "Well I would, wouldn't I? I just finished my own training about three years ago." She took another polite sip of her coffee while Phoenix turned this over in her brain dragging heavily from her cigarette.
Trying her best to be tactful, "Are all the secretary's in your' alls offices trained Aurors?" Rowena looked perplexed and then laughed outright. Oh dear Merlin, she must have said something really wrong.
It took Rowena a moment to compose herself, "Oh no, dear no. I'm only working for Harry for a while. I was injured in the line of duty and this is just 'til my reapplication to active duty is pushed through."
Phoenix's afternoon was looking up considerably. This wonderfully efficient secretary was actually in the business. "So you have actual experience on top of access?"
Rowena now surveyed Phoenix's eagerness cautiously before replying, "Well yes I guess. Why?"
"You're perfect!" she exclaimed. With Rowena as a resource she was sure she could complete this mundane assignment in half the time and be home doing real work in no time. "Do you think Potter would release you to help me on this?" Her companion's eye widened. "I'm getting ahead of myself, would you like to help me on this? If so I'm sure I could pull some strings to edge along your active duty application." Rowena's jaw dropped open.
"I would love to! Although a research position doesn't sound much better than what I am doing, no offense," she added hastily, "Still, it would be chance to get out from behind that desk and do something a bit more gratifying. You have no idea how sick I get of people coddling me just because I had a bad run of luck." You'd be surprised, Phoenix thought. "Can I ask you a question?" she edged mischievously.
Phoenix contemplated her for a moment. Had that look been in the eye of someone a little more intimidating she might have refused the offer but coming from Ro she hardly doubted it was anything very complicated. "Fire away."
"Well, I was just wondering. You have to know that your reputation proceeds you, obviously since you are trying to avoid recognition. I cant' help but wonder why someone like you would be pulled off your usual high-profile assignment to go shuffling through our dusty paperwork."
Phoenix nearly ate her cigarette. She made a note to herself not to underestimate this woman's sense of perception ever again. "You see."she stalled. "I guess you and I are in the same boat. I was injured in the line of duty as well. Except mine was a bit more mental than physical. Stress, you know. So I requested an opportunity to take a little break, recuperate, so to speak." She sipped her own coffee and prayed that it was a good enough half-truth.
Rowena eyed her suspiciously for a moment; with practiced control Phoenix resisted the urge to squirm. "Understandable," Rowena said slowly, Phoenix exhaled silently. "But it's not often you meet someone who request downtime, that seems so restless and aggravated with it," she commented innocently. For a moment Phoenix was stunned, but only a moment. You really are off your game, she thought. From the moment she met this woman she had assumed her to be nothing more than a simple-minded paper pusher and memo taker, it was a pleasant surprise to be wrong, very wrong. Phoenix laughed in spite of herself at her own naïveté. Rowena looked smugly across the table.
"I guess I'm going to have to stay on my toes around you, Miss Dawes."
"Well, Miss Pendron, you just may find that I'm full of surprises."
"Please call me Phoenix, or Phoe-anything but Miss Pendron or the Phoenix. And you just may find me a bit surprising as well." Phoenix finished her smoke with a flourish, leaning across the table conspiratorially, "I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful working relationship."
~*~*~
Phoenix checked the fade numbers above the door one last time against the address scribbled in her father's jagged hand. Shrugging she trudged the worn out steps and leaned heavily against the dark tinted glass. The stifling smell of drying herbs hanging from the walls, and thick cloud of mixed incense made Phoenix choke in spite of herself. Worn-out "magical" knickknacks lined the wooden shelves. In the dim light she could make out fake ceremonial candles charms. "Hello," she called loudly. From the back a curtain of beads was pulled aside as plump wrinkled woman wearing a moth eaten skirt and lacey shawl drifted through the shop.
"Hello, my child," she said softly in a scratchy voice. She snatched Phoenix's hand between both of hers and held it firmly, cooing softly. "How can the spirits assist you in your quest?" Phoenix pulled her hand back violently, wiping sticky oil from her palm on her jacket, as she did she caught the faint scent of monkshood. "Perhaps you are in need of good fortune, in love, or money? I have just the thi-"
"What I'm in need of," Phoenix cut her off before the charade continued into a sales pitch, "is an apartment. I was told that someone one here was holding one for me." The woman turned slowly back to face her. She glanced her over suspiciously.
Phoenix rolled her eyes; if the woman tried to consult any sort of crystal ball for her quarters she would hex her on the spot. "I'm sorry dear, we do not have apartments for rent. But maybe if you would like me to ask the winds for advice on where you can hang your hat." This was getting ridiculous. Phoenix paced around a shelf to meet her passing a small box half filled with Knuts. She stared at one for a moment, reading the price, which was set at two pounds each. "Ah, you have very fine taste, my friend. Those are magic coins. Believed to have been used by the Druids to pay the priest for him miracles. To you they will bring great fortune and luck, if you sleep with it beneath you pillow it will protect your dreams." The haggard woman was gesturing mistily and speaking in low cautious tones. Phoenix bit back a laugh.
"Really? I never knew they were so useful. But if you don't mind I think I'll keep my two pounds, I can get them twelve to the Sickle at Gringott's. Thank you for your trouble I'll leave you and the spirits be now." She turned with disgust headed for the door. It was taking her a moment to find it between the tall statues of ancient looking men in robes and tall candleholders.
"Please forgive me dear," said the woman in a much louder more comfortable voice, "You wouldn't believe how many Muggles we get through here a day. We find the shop brings a nice stipend, as well as easy access to our tenants, and a hearty laugh every now and then. If you'll follow me, I think my son is expecting you." Phoenix turned back and smiled at the old woman, who was standing straighter with her hand jauntily on her hips. She lead the way pass a rickety set of stairs Phoenix hadn't noticed before and through the beaded curtain. There was a small storeroom which lead to a small office brightly decorated in soft blues that she hardly believed was part of the same building. On one side stood a simple oak desk before a roaring fireplace, on the other was a small closet that cracked open, emitting a soft glow and faint steam next to a few scrubbed wooden benches. "Wait here dear," said the older lady, gesturing to a chair by the fire. She disappeared through a small door behind the desk, faintly Phoenix heard her call, "Louis! Louis the tenant from the Ministry is here."
While she waited Phoenix lit a cigarette and glanced around, taking in the scene. The desk was immaculate and holding only a ledger full of fresh parchment next to ink well and eagle feather, a calendar, and lamp. The rest of the office seemed to be in similar condition. The wooden benches were lined with labeled vials and canisters. The only thing out of place was a large pestle and mortar set in the middle of one bench. Phoenix smiled to herself and wagered a guess none of those object were present when her father had made his appointment to stop by.
From the other side of the door she heard heavy hurried footsteps and a deep voice muttering, "She's early. You should have come and got me before- " The voice stopped short as it came up to the door. Phoenix turned slightly and saw the figure of a hideously obese man outlined in the frame. As he made his way to the fire where Phoenix sat he threw a cautious glance at the benches and smoothed the few stringy hair across his enormous hand. "Well hello, my mother tells me you are here about the apartment. I'm Mr. Anderson, I'm the landlord here." Phoenix rose and shook his hand politely. His palms were disgustingly sweaty, and she wiped her hand across the leg of her jeans as she sat. The man waddled to a chair and wiggled his large behind into it, must to the protest of the frame and springs. "What did you say your name was again?" he asked innocently.
"I didn't. I am Phoenix Pendron. I was told you were holding an apartment for me." The man's face fell at the shortness, but this time Phoenix did not feel the least bit guilty about it.
"Yes, a gentleman from the Auror's office came by yesterday to make the arrangements. Before we settle you in I guess we should go over the ground rules." Phoenix groaned inwardly. Trust her father to find her a flat with a pompous uptight idiot as the super, who just happen to like rules so he'd have an excuse to keep an eye on her, Phoenix wouldn't have doubted if Charles Pendron was secretly having him report to him on a regular basis.
Phoenix indulged herself in dark paranoid thoughts of her father as the sweaty man continued to pour on about quiet and guest, being courteous, redecorating, and pets. Phoenix smokes two more cigarettes to keep herself calm, and wished for something stronger.
"It's a real cherry of a flat, I hate to see to see it go the Ministry," he heaved. Phoenix groaned and pulled another a cig from her sack. She had been as polite as physically possible for at least twenty minutes; she didn't think she could listen to another round of loathsome conversation.
"Not to be rude, Mr. Anderson, but what does it matter who is living there as long as the rent is paid." He pulled him self up to full height, which was fairly insubstantial, even to someone of Phoenix's stature.
Looking down his pointed nose at her he replied, "I'm not sure I appreciate your attitude missy; the gentleman who came by yesterday was much more civil. He left me his card you know, told me the call on him if there were any problems, I just might have to do so if you don't learn some manners," he wheezed through his nose.
Phoenix had been pondering how much more of this she could stand, she now knew. She had reached the end of her tether. "Listen very carefully. I was not hired for my manners, the credentials of an Auror are more ruthless attention to detail and disgust of wasted time." She leaned forward and took a draw from her cigarette, enjoying the unsettled panicked looked that slacked his flabby cheeks. "You have a choice, you can go ahead and call the Commander. And when you do please explain to him in detail why you are holding up a diplomatic assignment, I'm sure the Minister will be quite interested, as well, since this assignment came strait from his office," the statement's truth brought another pang of resentment which she turned against her squirming host. "While you're at it you can explain to his why you are illegally brewing unregistered potions for sale. Or you can show me the apartment now, before I call them myself."
Anderson's face went from red to purple and he sputtered like a dried out fish, "Why you.you can't threaten me-"
"I don't threaten Mr. Anderson; I make promises. So unless you have a better explanation for that smell of Withering Potion coming from the closet there and the monkshood on that bench that your mother was preparing earlier, and the fact that I have no where seen a properly displayed apothecary license . I suggest we head upstairs." Phoenix smiled wickedly as the fat man twisted uncomfortably in his high back chair.
"The first of you boxes arrived this morning, I'll get the key," he said weakly. As he heaved himself from the chair the springs popped with relief. Scuttling across the room he draped a towel over the airing potions ingredients before producing a key from the cupboard. Maybe I'm not as out of practice as I thought I was, Phoenix thought with a grin as he led the way to the stairs.
Phoenix was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest of the building bared no resemblance to the Muggle-trapping shop on the first floor. Just past the first floor the stairs turned became much sturdier, and their trudging footfalls were muffled by thick rich carpet. By the time they had reached the third floor landing the old balding man looked as though he may pass out; she eyed him wearily with disgust. The hallway was brightly lit and with the same rich carpet and tasteful decorating. As they passed the first few doors Phoenix heard the muffled sounds of light conversation and wireless sets, for the most part the corridor was pleasantly quiet, most people were probably still at work.
"It's just down here, Apartment 3G. Two bedrooms and one and a half bath, seems a shame to waste it on one person, but as you said, as long as the rent's paid. It's completely furnished," he panted, " the last tenant, lovely witch, very quiet," he said suggestively. "Her sister moved out a few months ago to attend the University. She married some rich French wizard and didn't need to take the furniture with her." Phoenix pondered if her was this open with the stories of everyone's life that lived in the building; it could make him a security risk she thought as she watched him fumble with the key. "It has a lovely view of the square. There's a market and an apothecary, just across they way. But for most things you'll find Diagon Alley a bit more convenient-" Phoenix was losing patience again and snatched the small silver key from his fat bumbling fingers and opened the door herself.
The stifling smell of wildflowers hit her immediately, turning up her nose. As she entered the small hallway she noted a small kitchen to her right and through the doorway to her left she could just make out the deep fireplace that rose almost to the ceiling. Mr. Anderson began to scuttle in behind her, "If you'll follow me down-"
Phoenix threw her arm across the frame preventing his passage, "I think I can find my way from here," she said in a monotone voice.
"Oh yes, I suppose so." He shuffled his feet nervously in the hall, "You aren't going to tell anyone-"
"About your illegal activities? Not unless I find you to be a nuisance. Good day Mr. Anderson." Phoenix shut the door in his tubby face, rolling her eyes to his muffled comments through the door. Before heading down the hall she cast a quick silencing and alarm charm over the portal and slung her jacket on the hall tree. With a scrutinizing eye she made her way through the flat.
On the wall to the left just opposite the door hung an ornate mirror over a small end table, Phoenix made a note to move it to the right wall so she could see the doorway in it from the living room. A brief inspection of the kitchen found it to be full equipped with a cold closet, stove, and sink as well as a small table with two wooden chairs. The smell of charcoal permeated the tablecloth and Phoenix resolved the rich French wizard hadn't married the previous tenant for her cooking skills.
At the end of the short hallway stood two large French doors that opened on to a small balcony over looking the square. Phoenix quickly ascertained the security risk and cast a few reinforment and locking spells over the glass, deciding to investigate the neighbors later. Two large arched doors on the right opened into the general living room. One just inside the entrance and the other directly across from a small bedroom that Phoenix decided to make her temporary office. After rapidly transfiguring the bed into a large desk and the nightstand to a chair she inspected the closet space. Her Auror's trunk would fit nicely in there with a few distraction charms, to keep it from notice.
The living room was large, stretching from the hallway side of the apartment all the way to the outside wall. Three large windows stretched from floor to ceiling on either side of the enormous fireplace. Sighing Phoenix turned her attention to this first. The fireplace was large enough to stand in with at least eight inches before one stepped away from the flames and out of the hearth. Only someone who only traveled by Floo would waste so much money on such an extravagant fireplace, the quiet witch was probably too afraid to apparate or hadn't passed her test. She made a note to calculate the effect it's size would make to her standard wards before casting them over such a large space. After securing the windows she took in the prim furnishing. A large couch with a floral slipcover faced the fireplace with end tables on each side with large gaudy lamps. Phoenix spun the couch to face the hallway wall, where she could view her mirror. In the process she had to rearrange the small dining table and bookcases. Satisfied with the results she proceeded through the doorway to the back.
To her right now stood the bathroom, which quickly revealed adequate space and utilities, to her left stood what appeared to be the other bedroom. It was only slightly larger than the other bedroom, with roughly the same view of the neighborhood, for a moment she contemplated moving her office to the larger room, but decided against it for the practical reason it was too far from the bathroom.
Phoenix returned to the main room, satisfied with the dwelling. In the states she had lived with her family in the ancestral manor Pendron Place, this apartment could be dropped in the house elves working/living quarters and lost she thought grumpily.
Still she couldn't deny that someone had probably paid a pretty penny for the place, and she didn't believe for a moment that the Ministry would have bothered. No this rent was coming from her father's own pocket, serves him right.
She seated herself on the couch and summoned her boxes from where they were neatly stacked by the table. Digging roughly through the first box she produced her incense holder and immediately set about to rid the place of the stench of overpowering wildflowers and replace it with faithful sandalwood.
For a few moments Phoenix let the sweet musky smoke wash over her. It had always been here favorite scent, simple and natural it reminded her of the Muggle tobacco fields in the ravine beneath her old home. When she was young her oldest nephew Bolt and her would play hide-and-go-seek in those field, much to the dismay of her brother who would have to repair the damage before the neighboring farmers discovered the mess. She inhaled deeply and recalled the cologne Luke had worn on their first date, after long months of pleading on his part. A lump rose in her throat as she surrendered herself to the rush of similar memories; the twinkle in his eye before they embarked on any of their numerous dangerous schemes, the way he would run his hand through his hair when he was concentrating, causing it to stand at brutal angles, the pain on his face the night she had told she didn't return his feelings the same way. She screwed her eyes closed, shaking herself violently. This wasn't being helpful.
She returned to the couch and started rummaging through the other boxes. All of her essentials were here, neatly packed by the house staff the previous evening, pushing these aside she pulled out the crate she had packed herself with all of her personal items. The stack of pictures on top waved pleasantly, Phoenix felt the weight ease from her shoulders as she smiled back at familiar faces. Pulling out books and knick-knacks she came to a small leather pouch. Gently she pulled the string apart and emptied the bag into her lap. There was a pinecone from the trees in their back yard, her mother's wedding band, and the honorary Auror's badge she had received when her father had taken her to work that one-day when she was twelve. As she gently sorted through the tokens she felt something small slip between her knees to the floor. Cursing softly she carefully returned the memories to the soft leather bag and bent down to retrieve the lost item. It took a few moments to find it in the stack of boxes and frames she had scattered across the floor. Convincing herself that she defiantly felt something fall she got down on her knees and rummaged through the mess. When she lifted the edge of the sofa cover she saw it.
For a moment all she could manage to do was gape. A black onyx stone glinted gently from the silver band, she had completely forgot storing that ring there. Hesitantly she lifted it from the carpet and stared at it in the palm of her hand. The ring still shone magnificently, she had only worn it a handful of times. Forcibly she remembered the day Luke had given it to her. It was on the anniversary of their first date, over a year from the day she had told him it just wasn't meant to be. They had been working late in the office, planning the final details of the fateful raid that would ruin everything. When he had slid the small velvet box across the table she remembered feeling deeply resentful and hurt that he was willing to ignore the friendship they had built to vainly pursue a lost romance. But Luke had insisted that he wasn't implying that any old fires be rekindled, it was meant to be a friendship ring, a token of the bond that joined them as only best friends could be. To Phoenix it had become a sign of the way he had truly felt about her, even though her had never kept it much of a secret, a token that said he would always be there for her if she needed him and that all he wanted was her loyal friendship with no strings attached. It hadn't been long after that the raid had failed and their lives had been forever changed. If only it hadn't of been silver, she thought, I might have still been wearing it. Without permission a vision of the last night she seen Luke flashed before her eyes in horrific slow motion, chilling her bones.
"NO!" she screamed to the empty apartment. Violently she threw the ring into the box and slung them across the room with her wand to a heavy thudding sound. She wouldn't remember, she wasn't allowed to remember. Guilt descended slowly on to her shoulders. There were excuses and rationalizations that could be made, but none of them replaced the fact that she had let him down in the most painful possible way. There was nothing that change could the fact that she had acted in a way he would never have forgiven her for, that his love for her would not have allowed her to.
Resolutely she stood from the couch. Tears threaten to fall as she marched to the hallway and retrieved the folders Rowena had prepared for her. Desperately wanting to escape the hell that had become her existence through her own choices and failures she threw herself into her work vigorously. The sun was threatening to rise before Phoenix reemerged from the study. Her head was throbbing and eyes weary from reading as she stumbled toward the sofa.
In the pale predawn light she could only just see the outline of the boxes messily clumped in the corner where she had cast them. For several long minutes she stared at them daringly, before finally giving in and pulling her wand. "Accio ring," she croaked as the small loop sailed to her palm. The metal was cold and familiar as she slipped it on her finger. She drifted off to sleep gazing at the simplicity and beauty of the token, mirroring the traits of the truest friend she would ever lose.