Chapter 24

Complexity #24: Life keeps moving forwards.

On Monday, life settles back into its normal routines - or at least, it feels like it does at first. I wake up before James, and I'm halfway done with my makeup before he gets out of bed to go make coffee.

There's something nice about the mundanity of it all.

But perhaps I should've realised that life wasn't going to suddenly start cutting me a break purely because of one good weekend.

I'm walking down the stairs, fastening a gold hoop earring into place, when I notice the look on James' face. He's got the Daily Prophet laid out in front of him, and he looks… genuinely horrified by whatever it is that he's reading.

My first instinct is that it's yet another gossip column - although what story they'd be spreading this time is entirely beyond me, given that we were both completely recluse for the past forty-eight hours - but I quickly realise that James wouldn't care that much about some dumb story in the news. It's always been me who cares about those more.

"Abby," he says softly, gravely, as soon as I get down to the bottom of the stairs, "you're going to want to see this."

I grab the mug of coffee he's poured for me off the table, before walking behind him to see what he's looking at. Sure enough, it's decidedly not a gossip column - it's the op-ed section.

I read the headline, and feel my stomach start to sink. The feeling only gets worse as I continue to read the article, which is more or less identical to those bright pink flyers I'd been seeing getting handed around in Diagon Alley. Arguing that the mixture of magical and Muggle blood was diluting our power - was making the entire community weaker.

But there's a damn big difference between a few random people handing out flyers in Diagon Alley and managing to get an opinion piece published in the Daily Prophet.

And then I get to the last paragraph.

Every single person killed in the December tragedy was of mixed Muggle and magical blood. Their diluted power was the reason that none of them were able to defend themselves against attack. Let their deaths be a lesson to you all: magical isolation is the only way forward.

I thank Merlin I haven't bothered to eat breakfast yet, because the words on the page, and the not-so-hidden threat behind them, immediately make me feel sick. It's not new information, the idea that this new ideology could be linked to all those deaths in December - the Auror office has more of less been operating on that assumption ever since I found the OWL score link - but seeing it plastered so plainly in the newspaper is distinctly unsettling in a totally different way.

"Fuck," I swear, because it's really the only thing I can think to say right now. "I - I need to - "

"Get to work?" James finishes my sentence for me, and I just nod. "Yeah, I imagine it's going to be a little crazy once everyone gets wind of this."

He casts a quick spell on my coffee mug sitting on the table, and I watch as it turns from a normal mug to a travel one. It's such a small gesture, but it's somehow exactly what I need right now.

"I love you," I say as a thank you, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek, before picking up both the mug and my purse. "See you tonight? I'll let you know if I get stuck late."

"See you tonight," he confirms, and I grab a handful of Floo powder from the jar next to the fireplace. "And love you too."

I can't help but smile despite myself - news article notwithstanding, moments like this feel just a bit more like that normalcy I've been dying to get back to. I know that the day ahead of me at work is inevitably going to be a bit of a mess, but there's at least some sort of peace in the fact that there's at least one aspect of my life that doesn't feel like it's completely out of my control.

But sure enough, there are already two notices sitting on my desk when I get to the office, one of which is calling an emergency meeting in ten minutes.

I've got just enough time to finish my coffee and neaten up my desk a little bit, then I'm grabbing some parchment to take notes on and heading into the meeting room.

The whole meeting is just as painful as I'd anticipated - the fact that this 'link' we'd been investigating has now been confirmed in such a public setting means that everyone's on edge. People have been sending in panicked complaints ever since the paper went out, ranging from relatively minor concerns about supposedly private test scores being public knowledge to the much more meaningful fear that somehow they'll be next.

"We've lost a lot of the luxury of being able to work through this case privately," Harry explains - it's been a while since he's been in on one of these meetings, but the gravity of today's means that it's only natural the head of the department is involved. "I've already gotten a number of requests from reporters to make a public statement about all of this - which, all things considered, is terribly ironic considering they were the ones who somehow let this op-ed slip past the editors - but I'm inevitably going to have to discuss our progress on the investigation so far."

I've got no idea what Harry thinks he's going to be discussing - we've barely made any progress, much less progress that isn't highly classified information.

Randall speaks up first, but it's clear he's not even sure what his point is meant to be. "That's - "

"Nothing?" Harry finishes. "Yes, more or less."

"And you're going to just… admit that?"

Harry raises an eyebrow, almost in a challenge. "An Auror office that lies about its progress and control over the situation does far more harm than good, as I'm sure you'll remember from about thirty years ago."

"Of course," Randall nods. Even the newer Aurors - myself included - know exactly what he's referring to. He and Hermione have both always sworn up and down that the Ministry should be a far more transparent body than it was throughout their teenage years, and for the most part, they've succeeded in that.

If anything, it's probably made people respect the Ministry more - even when they're admitting the ways they've messed up.

"Do we have a plan of action going forward?" Markus chimes in from the seat next to me.

"Yes, actually," Harry says. "As much of a wrench as this publication may have put in our normal operations, the fact that they've managed to get something into the Prophet means there's probably going to be some sort of trail to the source - and once we find them, we've got a solid chance at figuring out more information about this… group, or whatever they may be."

It's ironic, that the process of gaining power and influence is actually going to make it easier for us to track these people down. Or, at least, it makes the identification part easier - it says nothing for taking them down, which would undoubtedly be much easier if we'd found out who was behind the initial killings months ago.

I'm brought to attention by the sound of my own name. "Winchester and Clark, I'd like the two of you to head over to the Prophet offices after this meeting - see if you can gather any information from the editors' office about where this opinion piece came from and who approved it to run in the paper."

I make eye contact with Markus across the table; he replies with a smirk.

The rest of the meeting is relatively predictable, and as soon as it comes to a close and we all begin to file out of the meeting room, Markus is at my side, adjusting the cufflinks on his eggplant-coloured robes.

"You good to head over to the Prophet offices now?" he asks me, falling into step.

"Yeah, might as well get there as early as we can," I reply.

And so we find ourselves walking out to the Atrium together, where we can floo over to the Prophet offices.

"Should I be walking a few metres behind you the entire time?" Markus asks, and it takes me a moment to realise that he's cracking a joke. "You know, so that no one tries to write another story about how I'm some sort of homewrecker?"

I scoff at that. "The article didn't make you out to be the villain, that title was entirely bestowed on me. If the story is anything to believe, I'm the one who lured you in with the intent of betraying my fiancé - you were obviously completely helpless to my advances."

It's odd that joking about those rumours can come so easily to me - especially given the fact that, barely a week ago, they were the thing that almost tore my relationship apart. But somehow, that feels miles away. It feels like this weekend put a sharp divide in my life - before James and I made up, and now, in the aftermath of it. And in the aftermath, when I know that I'm back on solid footing again, those stories are back to being so preposterous that I can't helpbut mock them.

"Yes yes, of course," he replies, nodding along in an entirely overdramatic manner. "And you're obvious exactly my type, so I had no choice but to fall for your seductions."

I laugh at that, and the lift doors open to let us out. "Okay, now you've really got to knock it off before someone thinks you're being serious."

He takes my instructions to heart, and doesn't even so much as say a word to me until we're close to the fireplaces. "You know, actually, we're headed straight into the belly of the beast on this one."

I look at him with raised eyebrows, not following his train of thought.

"The Prophet was the one who wrote that whole shitshow of an article to begin with," he explains.

Oh Merlin, I… didn't even think about that. On the bright side, being there on official Auror business drastically reduces the likelihood that anyone will try to spin it into a story. They'll be too busy trying to cover their own asses, hopefully.

I let out a short laugh. "I wonder if Harry even thought about that bit when he assigned the both of us to this."

"I can't imagine he did."

I can only hope that this doesn't backfire on us - I don't think James would believe a second story if one did come out of this, but even so, I'd still like those types of stories to stop happening, thank you very much.

Markus goes through the Floo first, and I follow afterwards.

We come out in a lobby of sorts, and as soon as we tell the wizard behind the counter what we're here for, he summons a lift to take us up.

The Prophet offices are strangely chaotic - I've not visited them before, but I'd always imagined a newsroom to be a relatively calm environment. Or, at the very least, feature significantly fewer people literally running.

We're meant to be visiting the editors' offices, but finding them would probably be a much easier task if the front desk wasn't entirely vacated. We could wait around for whoever sits here to return to their seat and tell us where we need to go, but we instead opt for the notably quicker option of just following signs to the editors' section.

I entirely forget that I've got a friend in the editor's office myself until I practically collide with him - Scorpius looks slightly winded and extraordinarily stressed out when I catch sight of him. He's surprised by my presence - rightfully so - and just blinks at me a few times, like he's trying to confirm that he's not hallucinating my presence.

"Abby?" he manages eventually. "What are you doing here?"

"Oddly enough, Auror business," I reply. I'd certainly fantasised once or twice before about storming into the Daily Prophet to figure out who the editor responsible for approving a disaster of a story was, but it had always been related to some annoying gossip column, not a thinly-veiled threat from a group of murderers.

Scorpius laughs, but it's hollow. "I take it you're trying to figure out the same thing we are - how that bloody article got published."

"You don't know?" Markus asks disbelievingly.

"Not a fucking clue," Scorpius answers. "When Withers approved the final copy for print yesterday, it wasn't there. Someone made the change after that."

Markus and I exchange a look. If the Prophet staff didn't know about this article making its way into this morning's paper, our job here may be quite a bit stickier than intended.

"Where is… Withers, you said? I'm assuming he's the chief editor?" I ask eventually. Despite the fact that he may not have known about the opinion piece, he's still probably someone useful to talk to.

"He is," Scorpius replies. "He's in his office, I think, or he will be at some point. He's livid, to say the least, so, er, fair warning about that."

Markus laughs. "I've handled far worse."

Honestly, given that he worked for MACUSA for five years before coming here, the idea of that doesn't surprise me much.

I scan around the office, before looking back to Scorpius. "Where's his office?"

He points at an office in the back corner. "That one, with the door shut and the paper slot cut into it."

"Thank you. And, er, good luck." It seems like he probably needs it right now. I don't know if I've ever seen him quite so frazzled - and that includes when he was trying to ask Rose out for the first time.

He smiles weakly at that, and Markus starts heading in the direction Scorpius pointed us. I follow suit, giving Scorpius a quick wave as I go.

Interviewing Withers is… useful, even if he doesn't have the information we originally came here for. He's clearly just as frustrated by the Prophet being used as a vessel for spreading this message as we are, so he's more than happy to comply with anything we ask of him - which turns into scheduling questionings with every single person who would have access to a final draft of the paper.

We've got our work cut out for us, but at least it feels like we're moving somewhere.

In the weeks that follow, life doesn't necessarily get any easier. Work continues to be chaotic, even as we start to feel like we've figured out the source of the Prophet article. And as I predicted, one conversation with James isn't enough to completely iron out all of the problems we've run into over the past few months - there are moments that teeter dangerously on the start of another argument, where one or both of us is upset about something, and we have to stop and take a step back, to walk away from the situation and each other.

But we're no longer letting our tempers take over, and those moments of tension gradually become fewer and farther in between.

Perhaps most importantly, we're back to talking to each other again. He tells me every little detail of what's going on in his planning for this new business venture of his, and I return with whatever weird instance of office politics happened in the Auror department today. We're gradually sliding back into the way things used to be - there's definitely something indelible left on our relationship as a result of the last few months, but now it's a faint scar rather than an open wound.

We actually make weekly date nights happen - sometimes it's just cooking dinner together and playing games, sometimes we go out. I come up with the idea to take James to a Muggle cinema one evening, and he's positively enamoured with it.

"That was so cool," he gushes, a childlike grin on his face as we walk out of the theatre. "Dad took us to films a few times when I was a kid, but none of them looked like that."

"Yeah, they've come up with some pretty advanced stuff over the years," I agree, smiling back at him because seeing him happy is making me happy too.

"Like, all of that looked so real," he says, the same tone of wonderment in his voice. "It was all cartoons, but they practically looked like real people!"

"I take it you want to do this particular date night idea again sometime?"

He wraps his arm around me as we walk outside, the cool spring air causing gooseflesh to pop up along my exposed arms. "Can we just do this one every week?"

"We can definitely make it a more regular thing," I reply. "Although I've got to say, I'm still a bit partial to our baking experiments last week."

"Oh yeah, that was fun too," he answers, and we turn into a nearby alleyway so that we can Apparate home without being seen. "Although I don't know how you enjoyed it so much - you didn't even eat any of it!"

"Yeah, well, I have a wedding dress I need to fit into," I tell him, grinning. "But the experience was the fun part for me - you look rather cute with flour all over your face."

He gives me a look. "I resent that."

Instead of responding to that, I take his hand and focus my thoughts on our living room until we're standing in it.

I probably should've realised that the one night at the cinema wasn't going to be the end of it, but I'm still surprised when I get home from the most successful Prophet interview yet - we actually found the person responsible for adding the opinion piece in, by some incredible miracle - to find James in the middle of our living room, toying around with a black box.

It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts about the scene in front of me. "James... why is there a Muggle telly in the middle of our living room?"

He pops his head out from where he'd been fiddling with something. "Oh! Because they finally released a reasonably priced version of those magic-resistant models, and I thought it'd be cool to have one," he replies, grinning. "Now we can watch films here too."

"I was going to call it your birthday present," he continues, walking away from the corner he's set the telly up in, "but then I realised it'd be kind of a dick move to buy you a gift that's really just something I wanted, so I got you something else too."

I blink at him. "My birthday isn't for another two weeks."

"Correct," he says, picking up the remote and mashing a few buttons. "Hence why you're not getting that gift for another two weeks, but I'm setting up this up now. This isn't technically your birthday present - this is just a fun thing for the both of us."

The television successfully lights up, and James pumps his fist in the air victoriously. "I did it!"

I smile at him, not because he'd managed the task (although that's certainly impressive, as I've got no clue how any of it's meant to work and certainly couldn't have done it myself) but because it hits me just how much James has finally come back into himself again lately.

"How'd that interview or whatever you had today go?" he asks, suddenly turning his attention from the set-up screen to face me.

"It went really well, actually," I tell him, setting my bag on the coffee table and taking a seat on the couch. "One of the younger editors was apparently blackmailed into sneaking into the Prophet that night to add that piece in."

"Holy shit," James says, falling into the space beside me, remote still in his hand.

"Yeah," I nod. "The Prophet has him on probation now apparently, but it's kind of hard to fire someone when they tell you someone was threatening to kill his wife and kid."

James looks aghast at that. "Merlin," he eventually manages, mussing up his hair with his free hand as he does so. "So where does that put you now?"

"He received everything from the same owl," I answer, telling him things that definitely aren't meant to be public knowledge, but I don't expect him to tell anyone about either, so it's fine. "He's agreed to work with us to help figure out where the messages were coming from - and from there, we'll hopefully have ourselves our first true lead."

"That's progress, at least?" He jabs a few more buttons on the remote. At some point I'm going to need to read the instruction manual for this thing so that I know how to make it work as well.

"It's something," I agree. "But onto less somber things, how did you manage to go buy this thing and get it fully set up before I got home? I was only an hour behind you."

"I took a half day," he looks at me and grins. "I ended up meeting with the new head of Sleekeazy's to formally pitch some of my ideas for the brand at lunch, and… it kind of ran over, so I took personal time for the rest of the day. But she liked my ideas, and wants to pay me to execute them when the company does their big relaunch this fall. So then when that meeting finished, I had the whole afternoon to muck around and I was in a really good fucking mood, so I… bought a television."

I now care significantly less about the telly and far more about the first half of his story. "James, you're going to work with Sleekeazy's? That's brilliant!"

He laughs, and it's evident that he's actually really proud of himself right now. "Yeah - I'm not going to leave my job at the Ministry and start really digging into all of this stuff until after the wedding, because Merlin knows we don't need another thing to be wildly fucking stressed about right now, and there's still a lot of details to settle on, but… yeah, this is going to be a thing."

My heart swells, and I lean over to kiss him. Because I can, because I'm genuinely overjoyed for him, because we're here and talking and fulfilling all of our promises to each other.

Because my love for him is stronger than ever.

lol well that took a while. i'd love to promise i'll be faster next time but uhhhhh, who knows. also wow all the abby/james moments in this chapter are so goddamn fluffy, i guess i'm trying to make up for all the angst in previous chapters somehow?

Sneak peek of chapter 25…

I must be on the fiftieth placecard by the time I lose patience. "This was a mistake."

At the time, doing all of our placecards by hand - with me doing the calligraphy for the names and James doing the table numbers - seemed like a sweet personalised idea. But now my hand is cramping up and I've got a still-undetermined number of names to go.

James looks up from his place on the other side of the table. "Really? I think they look good, even if my handwriting does kind of suck."