Chapter 2: Mornings

The flashing numbers on the alarm clock said it was six-thirty. Amelia groaned and pushed the covers of her bed down. As the duvet hit the floor, the chill that often came with mornings slammed into Amelia's body and she groaned again. She had arrived back at her flat at around three o'clock last night, barely managing to get the key in the lock and stumble inside before she fell asleep. Working on three hours sleep was going to be a challenge; Amelia had never been good in the mornings and she wasn't getting any younger, the creeping years making her crave rest almost as much as nicotine. With an unmeasurable amount of effort, she forced herself to sit up and get out of bed.

After a cold shower, she felt a little bit more awake. Cold showers really were a strange sensation, like being unexpectedly electrocuted and then buzzing with shock and anxiety for the rest of the day. She ruffled her hair with a towel and glanced in the mirror; she looked worse than she currently felt, with large, dark circles around her eyes. Amelia sighed. Perhaps she would recover over breakfast.

Breakfast proved to be a rather sad affair. At some point during the course of yesterday, the fridge had decided it was time to clock-off, leaving everything inside it to slowly heat up. Not that there was much inside; just a couple of apples, a half-full bottle of Firewhisky, some dubious looking pasta and a bottle of milk which was probably off anyway. The Firewhisky had been on the table as a breakfast candidate, until Amelia's better judgement had won out and she decided to purchase something on her way to work. Pulling on her coat and grabbing her bag, she left her apartment, taking the rusty elevator to the ground floor and joining the other footpath commuters on their way to work.

London in the morning was a beautiful thing. The air was crisp and sharp, but the movement of everything was slow and sleepy. The sun was rising, little streaks of cloud marring the watercolour sky. Amelia loved to be a part of it all, to feel like a small piece in a large picture; at work, she was the head of her unit, at home, she was a singular being, but on the streets she could be small, insignificant and still one of many.

On the corner of a street, there was a Muggle bakery that Amelia was rather fond of. She stopped in and bought a bagel and a large cup of coffee, black, no sugar. She ate as she walked. Of course, she could have taken the floo network, she could've apparated, she could've even taken the trains. But walking meant she could clear her head. During the day there was little time to sit down and plan everything out. Even with a secretary, Amelia often found herself wanting to scream and throw anything that was within reach. The daily journey to the Ministry gave Amelia time to work out her next moves. But walking also meant she could be late. Checking her watch, she swore and broke out into run, dodging men in business suits who were, inconveniently, going in the opposite direction.

Mornings were the times when briefings happened. The Auror Office was divided into different units, with around four or five Aurors in each. Every morning, new tasks or old follow-ups would be divided between the units. Every group would be given their strict set of instructions; and then the bargaining would begin. People attempting to trade stake-outs or filing for more exciting field work. Bargaining chips could be anything: galleons, drinks, favours. Amelia had once scored a semi-final Quidditch ticket and all it had cost her was a month working with the Magical Maintenance Department, an important but dull section of the Ministry. As the leader of her unit, Auror Unit B, all negotiations had to be checked by her first. If she was late, then her crew couldn't move. Well, that was what she liked to think. Gideon Prewett, the level headed brother, never tried to trade anyway. Frank Longbottom might wait, but only if Fabian didn't go right ahead, which he probably would. Despite her seniority, Fabian still treated Amelia as he had when they were just trainees. Her secretary and voice of reason, Dolores Umbridge, would attempt to step in, but Fabian never listened to her. He did whatever sprung to his childish mind, which generally always included saddling Amelia with the left over jobs that nobody else wanted. No, she had to be there on time, but it didn't look as if she was going to be.

The Atrium was mostly empty when Amelia finally arrived, a sign that a majority of people had already made their way to their offices and workspaces. Amelia swore again, getting a scorching look from a stout wizard walking past. Jumping into a lift, she jabbed the button and almost fell over as it lurched backwards. But it still wasn't fast enough!

"Come on!" Amelia muttered, continually pressing the button, "Come on!"

When the lift arrived at the right floor, she fell out of it running, slowing down to a dignified walk as she straightened her coat. Turning a corner, she came to a long corridor of cubicles, one on each side, the same cubicles she had spent her evening in last night. In her hurry, she crashed into a small, round faced witch and swore again.

"Anyone told you that you swear like a sailor?" the witch asked with a smile.

"God, sorry Alice," Amelia sighed, rubbing her face in her hands, "Am I late?"

"Just a bit," Alice Longbottom grinned, "they gave out the case files about ten minutes ago."

"Right," Amelia said, already fearing the worst.

"Don't worry," Alice tried to reassure her, "I reminded Frank this morning that you are technically his boss."

"Since when have technicalities been his concern?" Amelia said dryly, "Besides, it's Fabian that worries me. Last time I was late, he somehow got me stuck in a two hour long meeting about enhanced security for bicycles parked outside."

"You'd better go then," Alice said, leaving her colleague to get on with her work.

When Amelia arrived at her cubicle, everyone else was already there. Fabian, surprisingly, appeared to be working, writing in a leather bound notebook, his head down and focused. His brother Gideon was, also surprisingly, not working. The two brothers were very similar in appearance, both with golden-red hair and blue eyes. Gideon was taller and a little slimmer, with Fabian taking a more muscular build. Gideon also had a beard. But the main differences were in personality; Fabian was a joker, while Gideon took everything extremely seriously. However, at the moment, roles seemed to be reversed, with Gideon tossing a Quaffle to Frank Longbottom, who had situated himself in the cubicle over from hers. Gideon, however, stopped when Amelia walked in.

"You're late, Bones!" Fabian yelled, not even looking up from his scribbling.

Frank grinned.

"And you look like you slept on the floor!" he added.

"Well, a bright and sunny good morning to you too, Frank." Amelia said flatly.

She took off her coat and, from a fair distance, threw it on to the coat stand, garnering a small amount of applause from the rest of her unit. Then, as Fabian was currently occupying her seat, she leant against her desk.

"So, what have I missed?" she asked, looking around at the group.

"Nothing, as yet," Gideon said, "Dolores has hidden the case files, awaiting your arrival."

Amelia smiled. She could always count on Dolores. A more efficient secretary, you probably couldn't find. A few moments later, Dolores came around the corner, her heels clicking on the floor. She wore a pink skirt suit and had her brown hair curled. Amelia could never understand her friend's obsession with pink; it was a colour that had not endeared itself to her. Dolores came over and handed Amelia a cup.

"I thought you might like some tea," she said.

Amelia took it gratefully.

"Thanks, Jane." she said, using the witch's middle name as she usually did.

"Why don't I get tea?" Fabian whined, putting his notebook away and sitting up straight.

"I'm already re-writing your incident reports," Dolores said, sitting down at her desk, the one in the cubicle opposite Amelia's, "Don't push your luck."

Gideon looked slightly annoyed at this admission. He knew that his brother took Dolores' work for granted and often left her with things that he should've done himself. He also knew that Dolores only did it because she wanted to make his family like her, despite what she might say. But he didn't bring it up, because both he and Dolores thought it unprofessional to mention their engagement at work. Amelia, who knew all these things too, didn't really care at this early stage in the morning. She just wanted to get on with her work.

"Where are the case files?" she asked.

"There's only one today," Dolores said, opening a draw and taking out a brown paper file.

"It was in her desk the entire time!" Fabian said in disbelief, watching as Amelia received the document. "I can't believe I missed that!"

Amelia smirked.

"Remind me again how you manage to find dark wizards, when you can't find some paper in a desk?" she said.

Fabian shot her the darkest look he had and said grumpily, "just read the file, Bones."