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Kingsley hears the steady, rhythmic click, click, click against the tile floor. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself because he would recognize those footsteps anywhere. With a scowl, he busies himself with his paperwork. It isn't exactly an act. He's been acting as the Minister for three weeks now, and, in the immediate aftermath of the war, there's still so much to do. If he's honest, he feels like he's stretched thin.

"There he is! Kingsley Shacklebolt, the man everyone has been positively buzzing about!" Rita says, clapping her hands together and demanding his attention.

Kingsley looks up, sighing heavily. Rita has traded her usual acid-green outfit for a silver-blue number, and he'd be lying if he said she didn't look attractive in it… Of course, that doesn't matter. Whatever feelings he has for her, he has to deal with her with a clear head. "How did you get past security?" he groans, dropping his quill and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Really, Minister," Rita says, and the title sounds a little too sweet, almost sickly, on her tongue, "I don't believe you would silence the press!"

"If by press, you mean you, I absolutely would," he says dryly.

"You wound me! So, tell me, how is your first… well, not quite a month yet? Did you have any intention to become Minister? What sort of strings did you pull, hmm?"

Kingsley's temples throb. The longer Rita is here, the more he feels like a headache is coming on. That's just what he needs, on top of the stress that has him here, long after most Ministry employees have gone home for the day. "You are free to ask whatever questions you'd like at the next press conference," he tells her, surprised by how level his tone is.

"Would you turn your back on me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, her painted lips twitching into a smirk. "After everything we've been through?"

He swallows dryly. They've been through a lot, he'll admit that much. Once, what seems like a lifetime ago, he had almost proposed to her. As the Muggles say, he really dodged a bullet there. Rita isn't the worst person, but their values and morals always seem to clash, and Kingsley doesn't see the possibility of a world where they could have ever worked out.

When he doesn't answer, Rita lets out a sigh. It's a little too dramatic, a huff that lets him know just how impatient she is, or, at the very least, how impatient she's pretending to be. Kingsley knows all her tricks by now, and it doesn't move him one bit.

"Well, if you won't talk business with me," she says, waving her wand and retrieving a bottle of wine and two glasses from her purse, "how about a drink?"

Kingsley snorts. "How much Veritaserum is in that bottle?"

Her eyes narrow behind her glasses. "Would it ease your mind if I took a drink first?"

"Someone like you? I imagine you would have had to forethought to drink an antidote before coming," he points out. "Clever as you are, and all."

A faint blush stains her cheeks. Maybe there's still a part of Rita that's genuine. Not that it matters. All in all, she's too far gone for Kingsley's liking.

"Those trust issues are exactly why we never could have worked."

He rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "I can think of at least ten more reasons we couldn't work out," he says. "Besides, who do you think gave me those trust issues?"

She offers him a smile and tucks the wine and glasses back into her purse. "I take it you're quite firm with your refusal?"

"Quite," he confirms, nodding.

"Very well. It really was good to see you, Kingsley," she tells him before turning on her heel and hurrying off.

Kingsley watches her go, heaving a tired sigh as he sinks back into his chair. Sometimes he thinks they really could have been something amazing, if Rita hadn't lost touch with her soul and become so ruthless. Now, he supposes he'll never know.

Still, even after she's gone, he finds it a little too difficult to focus on his work. His thoughts return to her again and again, and he can't help but wish she hadn't come there at all.