Author's Note: This was written for the Minor Characters Bootcamp Challenge at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge Forum. As the title suggests, you have to write about a minor character and since I'm an Amelia Bones addict, always looking for an excuse to write about her, I decided to show some snapshots of her life.

The prompt was "Afraid".

It was dark outside; at that time of night, however, it was to be expected. The clouds that interlocked across the sky were a deep, stoney grey, and their shadows lay over the city of London, cloaking it like a great stain on the surface of Britain. Though she was many, many metres under the ground, in her office at the Ministry of Magic, Amelia Bones knew that it was dark outside. She glanced at the clock and gave a sigh, then threw another paper clip into a small silver bowl on her desk. That was what she had been doing for the last few hours; she didn't actually use paper clips (who did?), but they were always good when she found herself at a loss for what to do. Right now she was at a bit of loss. She had been wondering, in between shots, when she should leave work and head home. It was late; she wasn't being paid to be here and yet she couldn't leave her seat. Watching as a black clip hit the rim and bounced off, Amelia decided it was time to go. She was a fully grown woman playing paper clip basketball at eleven at night. And she wasn't even sure what basketball was!

Standing up, Amelia tucked a strand of greying blonde hair behind her ear. Her black robes fell around her ankles as she made her way over to the hat stand where she had hung her satchel. She took the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then she bent down to pick up a few rogue paper clips.

"Ma'am, you're still here," a deep, warm voice said.

Amelia started and stumbled over, falling back against the side of her desk. She raised her head to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the top Aurors, trying not to laugh. His mouth was curved slightly and his eyes sparkled. Amelia shook her head, smiling.

"What the hell are you trying to do, Shacklebolt?" she said, letting her head rest against the wood, her grey eyes looking up at him.

"I just noticed the lights were still on in here," Kingsley said.

He stood, his hands in his pockets, just staring at his boss. Then he offered to help her up. Amelia shook her head again and pushed herself up using the side of the desk.

"It isn't easy to knock me down," the witch said, "And believe me, Shacklebolt, greater men than you have tried."

"I can believe that," Kingsley smiled.

Amelia raised an eyebrow and leant against the desk. Her hands supported her, but she felt her weight against her wrists. Perhaps the feeling in her brain was reflected in her eyes, because Kingsley sat down in one of the chairs that was usually offered to guests. He folded his hands in his lap and didn't appear to be moving anywhere.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

"No rest for the wicked," Amelia said with a weak attempt at joviality, "Though whether I'm talking about myself or the people we deal with, I couldn't say at the present moment."

Kingsley didn't laugh. He just looked serious, something that didn't endear itself to Amelia. On the occasions when they interacted, there had never been anything really serious said between them, nothing personal anyway. If she had been asked to choose someone who would sit and listen, it would probably not have been Shacklebolt, based on their relationship. Though, looking in his eyes, she had no doubts he could listen.

"Someone has to stay late," Amelia sighed, "There's work to do. Especially now."

"And I'm sure catapulting stationary across the room will contribute greatly to the security of our nation's people," Kingsley said flatly.

"You saw that?" Amelia said, biting her lip a little, looking sheepish.

"I'm an Auror," Kingsley replied, "I get paid to see things."

Amelia folded her arms and tipped her head backwards, exhaling quickly.

"You're too damn good at your job," she said.

Kingsley smirked.

"So were you," he said, "so I'm told."

Amelia pursed her lips and cocked her head sideways.

"Now you're trying to get me to talk about my past," she mused, "Shall I lie down on a couch whilst you fetch the clipboard?"

"You are one of the greatest people to leave the Auror Office," Kingsley said, "Your past, as you call it, is hardly a secret."

"Then why you asking?" Amelia whispered.

"Switching focus," said Kingsley, standing up and ambling slowly towards her, "Now who's using psychology?"

"It's a classic bureaucratic technique," she said in mock defense.

"Bureaucratic?" Kingsley said with a laugh, "It appears you're good at this job too."

"Hey," Amelia grinned, "you might be going places, subordinate, but one word from me and you'll never see the sunny side of your current employment. Hush up."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, Cowboy."

Kingsley laughed, as Amelia let her bag fall to the ground and stretched her arms up, rotating her stiffened wrists. Then she yawned and let her hands fall to her side. The wizard looked at her, a concerned look on his face.

"You should go home," he said softly.

Amelia opened her mouth, as if to complain, and then shut it again, nodding. She knew she should go home. It was late and she had to sleep, the work load she would be facing in the morning a daunting task even to someone who had spent the whole night in blissful rest. But sleep had been difficult lately, ever since he had returned. The greatest dark wizard of all time had kept her awake on many occasions; after the first war she had slept with her wand for several years afterwards. After his return this time, she had spent the first few nights walking about in a state of numbness, not feeling or registering anything. When the gravity of the situation had set in, Amelia had cried for such a long time. She had lost so many during his first reign; there was not much left to lose.

In the end, she said, in a hoarse whisper, "it's so dark outside."

Kingsley sat down on the desk next to her.

"I didn't know you were afraid of the dark," he said quietly.

"Oh no," Amelia shook her head, "I'm not afraid of the dark. Darkness is merely the absence of light, nothing more."

"Then what?" asked Kingsley curiously.

Amelia sighed and crossed her arms more tightly across her chest.

"Tell me," she said, "when a person says they are afraid of heights, what is it that truly scares them?"

Kingsley thought for a moment and then said, "falling."

Amelia nodded.

"Exactly. I am not afraid of the dark; it is what might happen whilst I am in it that frightens me."

She didn't have to leave the building to go home; her position as head of department meant that she was connected to the Floo Network, so she could be transported straight from the atrium. But once she was home, she would be surrounded by the night, all alone in the darkness with no way of knowing what was out there. All alone. Amelia sighed, something she felt she was doing way too often.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," she whispered.

"Neither do I," Kingsley replied, moving a little closer to her.

Amelia, realizing what her remark could've suggested, almost started to laugh. She looked up at his face, so eager, so caring, so tempting. He was gorgeous, that was a fact. But it was a terrible idea. She reached up a hand and placed it on his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping onto her palm. He raised his own and cupped it around hers, holding it there.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Amelia said wistfully, "If I was ten or twenty years younger..."

She trailed off.

"What?" Kingsley breathed.

Trying to ignore everything her animal instinct was telling her, Amelia pulled her hand away.

"I won't tempt fate by giving that an answer," she said softly.

She picked up her satchel and once more hung it over her shoulder. Giving him a small smile, one that she couldn't keep the regret from, Amelia left Kingsley, his dark eyes following her as she went. It was only when she had moved completely from his sight and was stepping onto the lifts, that it occurred to her perhaps he was afraid of what was in the dark too.