A note from the Author , JK Rowling is a genius and I won't pretend to own her creations. Frank and Alice have always been a favourite unexplored pairing of mine, but I know some people won't like the way that I write them. All that I ask is for basic courtesy. If you like it, feel free to review and even if you don't. Reviews make the world go round - or at least they inspire my muse! Anyway, happy reading (:
i .
Alice spent the majority of the two weeks following her graduation in a drunken stupor and would have been all too keen to continue as such were it not for an impromptu and greatly undesired visit from her mother late one Thursday afternoon.
Scarcely across the threshold (and notably not invited in) Geraldine Prewett – forever pristine in a pale pink day suit – succinctly appraised her daughter's new abode taking in the un-placeable stench, mismatched minimalistic furniture and the dread-locked house-guest sprawled across the couch and promptly commenced a lecture on personal hygiene, unsavoury company and well... Alice wasn't sure what else for she had long tuned out by that point and was retreating for safety in the cramped kitchen where there surely wouldn't be enough room for her, her mother and the sizable disappointment that she seemed to forever cart about with her. There was little point in listening to the woman anyway. At nineteen she already knew every speech by heart.
"Alice, I asked you a question."
"Really? I wasn't listening."
"I noticed. You know that I don't like to repeat myself."
"And you know that I don't like to answer questions about my personal life."
"So you were listening."
"Evidently."
"Well?"
"Well...what Mother?"
"Are you or are you not involved with that...that...fellow."
For thirty precious seconds Alice savoured the power of her silence and watched the look of disapproval harden her mother's features. In the end she shrugged, non-committal. "We see each other a bit," she said not bothering to explain that that the seeing that she was referring to was of the clothed variety when they donned groupie t-shirts hand-crafted by Alice herself and mock fan-girled over the wannabe rock-band that commandeered the living room on alternate Thursdays to help pay the rent. Better not mention the rent problem either. No need to gift her mother with more ammunition and evidence to the fact that despite her endless rebellion and proclamation of independence she was just another nineteen year old girl, fickle, foolish and failing; discovering that she hated being a grown-up and find it awfully like being a child only with fewer perks and severer consequences. At least she'd hoped getting her own place would put a stop to her mother's incessant meddling. Evidently not.
Oh and she was talking again and not only that but rummaging through a pile of unopened mail partially concealed by the mound of unwashed dishes.
"Honestly Alice. You know I hate to nag-" Alice barely suppressed the eye roll. "-but this is just basic housekeeping. Dishes need to be washed. Mail needs to be read and answered and look, this one here even has the Ministry's crest."
Propriety be damned.
Silently cursing herself – how could she have missed that? – and feeling a fresh surge of butterflies make camp in the very pit of her stomach now that she was decidedly more sober than she had been in a fortnight, Alice snatched the letter from her mother's manicured claw and tore it open.
Miss Longbottom we are pleased to confirm your acceptance into the Auror training program...
"I got in. I got in! Haha! See that? I got in." She was cackling, dancing; the picture of celebration.
Never before had she been happier.
Meanwhile in an office at the Ministry headquarters', in the Law Enforcement division, Frank Longbottom was standing before his superior pride in hand.
"-Having acquainted myself with her file I just really think she'd be better placed under somebody else, Sir. Moody perhaps."
Observing the young lad scarcely in his mid-twenties and proper as they came with an unfaltering expression he dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Come now, Longbottom. She's just a girl. How much of a handful can she really be?"
"But Sir, I-"
"Enough, Longbottom. I've heard you out but my decision remains. Alice Prewett is your responsibility and I won't hear another word on the matter."
