Three Weeks Later

Blaise Zabini shifted his weight and was so instantly filled with rage at the sound of the wet squish in his shoes that he lost his composure. He'd been doing an admirable job at keeping it in check thus far- but the wet squish and the scent of charred wool pushed him, the king of iron control, over the edge.

"Rowle is an undisciplined, uncommunicative, suicidal witch who should not be allowed outside, let alone out in the field endangering her life and those around her." Blaise leaned forward and smacked his chest twice. "Endangering my life."

"Zabini-" Coldwater motioned to the chair in front of his desk. But Blaise was on a roll, there was no stopping now.

"We have been on one, as in one singular, retrieval missions together. Can you guess how many near-death experiences I have had?!" Blaise caught his breath and all but ignored the man in front of him.

"FIVE! Five times my life was in real actual danger of not continuing! Can you guess how many times Rowle has tried to kill herself!? Seventeen! Seventeen times!" Zabini squished a three-step pace back and forth in front of Coldwater's desk. He was still coming off the adrenaline rush of his last near-death experience.

Fucking Rowle.

The sound of his soggy shoes spurred his rant on.

"Zabini, would you-"

"Do you have any idea how many times I have had to put her out? From being on fire! ON FIRE! Flames on her actual body and all she does is continue working! Wha- who does that?! Does the witch not know how to stop drop roll? Does she feel the fire? Is she so insane that she can not comprehend anything going on around her while she's working!?"

"Please, will you-"

"She needs to see a therapist and she needs to get on some kind of medication. I can not go back out in the field with her if she is going to continue with this suicidal behavior!" No sane wizard would.

"Alright then, I'll take this as you resigning from the agency." The calm reply cut through the red haze and Blaise was all too suddenly dumbstruck. What the hell had Coldwater said? Resigning?

"What?" Blaise stopped squishing back and forth and stared at the man.

"You are obviously unable to work with Ms. Rowle and I don't have any Retrieval Specialists in need of a partner at the moment. Why would I keep you on?"

While that was a square kick to the balls.

"I…" Speechless, pride hurting, Blaise didn't know how to respond. He dropped into the chair and rubbed at his throbbing face. He was sporting a shiny new black eye and currently missing a tooth- all because of Rowle.

Blaise Zabini had been going through something of a…. upheaval- wasn't the right word but all the other ones were too on the nose for his smarting pride preferences- in the past year. After the incident, subsequent firing, and getting disinherited things had changed quickly.

Blaise had always had his pride. He'd been aloof and indifferent and disdainful of all and sundry. And why shouldn't he have been, he'd been the wealthiest, prettiest, purebloodiest asshole this side of the Atlantic.

Now that he actually had to worry about things like rent, bills, and living expenses- pride just wasn't a factor. He wasn't just broke. He was in debt. Serious fucking debt to some unsavory characters.

He needed this job. It paid too well to lose over something so trivial as mortal peril. Fuck it all.

"Look, Zabini, I would prefer to keep you on. You were an excellent Auror and you're proving to be an even better bodyguard. But if you cannot work with Rowle then I'll have no choice but to let you go." Coldwater leaned across the desk separating them and looked as serious as he'd ever seen him.

Pride and dignity be damned.

What ruled his now narrowing world was money. It always had, and in light of recent events, it seemed that it always would. Maeve Rowle was a raving lunatic bent on killing herself but she was the best of the best. Rowle brought in the highest value items and did so consistently. They were both granted a standard rate of pay but what made this job so enticing was the healthy commissions he made each artifact that they successfully brought back.

The second-rate Retrieval Specialists didn't even rate a second thought. If he kept at it and managed to stay alive, he'd be able to pay off his debts in a matter of years- maybe even months.

"No, I'm not resigning." Blaise swallowed his pride and anger and sighed. "I... I am just... complaining. And concerned for Rowle." Zabini sat up and made eye contact with the other man. "She really is suicidal. She needs help."

There was no other explanation for the sheer amount of crazy pouring out of that woman.

"Maeve Rowle is an emotionally stable retrieval specialist with an impressive track record and an amazing work ethic." Coldwater recited as if he'd said it many times before. "Her methods may be unconventional but you can't argue with the results."

"Unconventional?!" Blaise sputtered, almost rendered speechless once again.

"Look," Coldwater sighed and rubbed at his face. "Even if she were batshit insane- I'm not saying she is- but if she were, I'd still keep her in the field. She is, frankly, too valuable to bench."

Blaise opened his mouth to protest, yell- anything but nothing was coming out.

"I know she's got her issues but... who doesn't?" Coldwater sat forward and braced his arms on the desk. "You have been her longest standing bodyguard and the most… intact after a mission. I would hate to lose you Zabini. It's dangerous work and but it pays."

There was an opportunity here and he wouldn't be a Slytherin if he didn't take advantage of it.

"Yeah, it does pay but not enough for the shit I have to do." He folded his arms and made a show of looking dissatisfied. "You know she's fucking crazy- you all but said it just now. I dodged sudden death five times today! And on top of that I now have a black eye, cracked ribs, my robes are never going to be clean again and I'm down a tooth! You how painful that is going to be to regrow?"

"If you decide to stay on I will give you a twenty percent raise." Coldwater was trying very hard not to look desperate but Blaise could see it in the tension of his shoulders.

Now he was getting somewhere. Somehow the whole 'mortal peril' thing was becoming less of a concern. Maybe twenty percent less of a concern. Besides, he was dead if he stayed on with Rowle trying to kill him every three minutes and dead if he couldn't come up with the money fast enough.

Blaise was well aware of the horror stories surrounding Rowle. He'd been warned away from her within the first three days of his employment. He knew how much Coldwater needed him which meant he could probably wring just a wee bit more out of the man.

"Did I not tell you that I almost died five times and kept Rowle from dying more than that?" Blaise had to work at sounding outraged now. He didn't want to push it too far but he'd try his luck. "I literally put her out- from being on fire- several times. I don't know if I even want to stay on just for the pay."

That much was true. He didn't want to stay on but he had to.

"I understand." Coldwater nodded and glanced towards the door and then back towards Blaise as if considering something. "How about a twenty percent raise and a bonus every time you bring Rowle back alive."

Blaise pretended to consider it for a long moment just to make Coldwater feel like he'd won in their negotiation before he sat forward and, reluctantly, nodded his head. "Deal."

Now all he had to do was not die, keep that bat-shit insane witch alive, and then maybe he wouldn't end up at the bottom of the river Thames sporting cement shoes.