Worship - Kingsley Shacklebolt
The funeral was on a Wednesday and Kingsley Shacklebolt came early. He always came early to things now, it was one of the things that Amelia Bones had instilled in him during his training and subsequent working with her. She was never late, even if time came right down to the wire and she was pulling on her shoes as she went out the door. When she arrived somewhere, she always looked dignified, calm and completely in control. It was one of the things that Kingsley had admired most about her. Even now, the coffin she lay in stood out as something carefully worked upon and composed, a dark wood, silver detailed throne against a primitive grass courtyard; did that make Kingsley one of her courtiers? He supposed, with a reminiscent smile, that that was one word for it.
He had loved Amelia Bones and she knew it; it had never been a secret between them. From the moment he had first seen her, he was drawn to her integrity, her humour, the sparkling quality that surrounded her. And she had been attracted to him, that was clear. However, working so closely together, it wouldn't have been appropriate to go any further. So Kingsley had settled with a work relationship, something that still allowed him to be with her. And it was actually fine by him; she was amazing at her job, one of the greats, and Kingsley felt constantly honoured to be learning directly from her. She had a high respect for him as well, something that he treasured.
The sun shone brightly on the coffin, its light glinting off the silver. It was funny, that even in death, Amelia still appeared to Kingsley in a halo of golden light. That was how he always thought of her, surrounded by a warm, hazy glow. The image of one evening sprang to his mind, a night in a foreign hotel. He had gone with her, as part of a delegation, to a conference on security. There was a large party, a ball of sorts, to mark the end of it. Kingsley had been sent to her room by another in their party, to invite Amelia for a pre-event drink. He straightened his bow tie and knocked on her door, three firm taps.
"It's open," her cool voice rang out from within and Kingsley turned the door handle and entered.
She sat at a dressing table, lounging elegantly on a white chair. Her dress was silver, long and straight, the neckline drawing straight across her chest. The top of her collarbone was exposed, a teasing element. Her honey coloured hair was wrapped in a simple swirl on the top of her head. A carefully manicured hand applied pale lipstick to a delicately powdered face. The dressing table, white and gold to match the interior decorating scheme, was covered with makeup and also small candles. The main light was low, but the gathering of tiny, blinking stars illuminated the part where Amelia sat, and Kingsley could not help but think that this was clever design, done to pull his focus to the most glorious thing in the room. His breath stopped in his chest. He had never seen her like this before, so carefully constructed, so radiant. She turned, smiled and everything dimmed by comparison.
"Can I help you, Kingsley?" she asked, "I like your tie."
The wizard looked down somewhat stupidly, as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. Amelia laughed, clearly and freely, the kind of laugh she didn't often use around the office. Kingsley grinned.
"You look beautiful," he said earnestly, hoping the basic words would convey the complex sentiment.
"Thank you," Amelia smiled, "It's a bit of a change from the office robes, I'll admit, but I can make an effort when I need to."
Kingsley wanted to tell her she looked effortless. The witch turned back to the dressing table and searched about, a perplexed look creeping over her face.
"Be a pal," she said, still looking around, "and see if my pearl earrings are on that side table over there, would you?"
The Auror obeyed and, finding the two small pearls, took them over to her. Amelia smiled thanks into the mirror as he appeared behind her, twisting a hand around to take them. Kingsley watched as she gently put them into her ears. He felt like he was intruding on a secret ritual, watching the magician's slight of hand from behind the scenes. And yet, he still could not tell how she did it. Amelia swiveled around to face him.
"Well you've help me and I still don't know why you're here," she said.
Kingsley had forgotten about any other motive.
"I've come to ask if you'd like to have a drink with the others before we go in," he said.
Amelia nodded, "okay. Just give me a second and I'll come down with you."
She picked up a small bottle of perfume and sprayed a little onto her wrist, dabbing that quickly on the side of her neck. The scent was subtle. It hinted at something familiar but left you guessing as to what it was. That suited her, Kingsley thought. The witch then set about blowing out all the candles. Once they were out, she picked up a silver clutch bag and led the way to the corridor.
The thing had been, Kingsley remembered now as he gazed at the sun on the coffin, that even as the candles had flickered out, the glow around Amelia had remained. She still seemed to radiated gold against her silver dress and the white wallpaper. The glow had remained around Amelia until the day that she died and now it seemed to go on beyond that. Darkness was moving across the world once more. And it would do it's best to suffocate all that glowed. But it gave Kingsley Shacklebolt an inordinate amount of hope to find that nothing could quell the light around Amelia Bones.
