A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with this chapter! Hubris was my downfall - my baby started weaning in September and after a trip to A&E we realised he had allergies. He stopped sleeping well and I've been so worried. Then my little boy brought home a terrible sickness bug! But they're both doing a lot better and I've finally had a chance to sit down and edit the chapter for you. More coming soon!

October passed quickly.

The month brought with it more theory exams and more 'A's and 'P's for Poppy, proving to everyone that her dedication to her role was not simply a passing thing, and her first 'A' grade hadn't been a fluke. The results also made her feel more hopeful, as she knew the corresponding practical exams would be coming in the new year, and she was already feeling confident about these.

Even her Order duty seemed to be going well and Poppy been trusted to a weekly slot on the rota now. While the Order meetings were still filled with whisperings, rumours, reports and sightings - and so rather dull action wise - Poppy was beginning to feel as though she belonged within the covert group - while she hadn't enjoyed Moody's semi-public explanation of what had happened to her it had, it seemed, helped people to embrace her more.

This was evidenced by the fact that at the start of November Poppy was called to Headquarters to hear Hagrid's debrief upon his return from his 'top secret' mission to see the Giants who were hidden away in a colony somewhere in Eastern Europe (Hagrid declined to explain exactly where they were).

Hagrid seemed impatient to get back to Hogwarts, and his limp told them all what he didn't want to - that his trip had ended in extreme violence. His request to get going was accepted by all - they assumed that he wanted to get back to the safety of his home.

Poppy only hoped that Madame Maxime had been telling the truth when she'd sent word to Dumbledore over a month before to say that she'd returned to Beauxbatons safely. But from the state of Hagrid, Poppy wondered what had happened to him after they'd parted ways - had Madame Maxime left Hagrid in peril? Had he left her?

At the end of the meeting, before he went on his way, Hagrid took Poppy to the side and handed her a small parcel. He said that he'd been to see Charlie on his way through Romania (which explained the large quantity of dragon meat he had in his backpack), and that Charlie had asked him to give something to her.

There was a note attached which said;

I couldn't make it up, but look what I found in Berlin last week. Thought it would make a good present. I know I can't be there in person, but if Hagrid's done his job then you should get this in time for your birthday.

Poppy laughed to herself - Hagrid had, somehow, managed to be two weeks late with his charge.

Not that she minded - she'd almost missed her own birthday as she'd been so busy with work and training, and had only been reminded of the date thanks to Fleur surprising her with a trip to the French native's favourite walled garden in London (complete with cafe bought croissants and coffee), a new blanket, and a rather lovely set of red dress robes.

Mrs Weasley had sent Bill over a few days later with a large tin filled with lemon shortcakes, and a note apologising for missing the date, and promising to cook Poppy a good meal next time she was over at The Burrow. Bill had given her a little book on chess strategies and a large bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.

Poppy thanked Hagrid for his late charge, and pocketed the letter and parcel. She ignored Bill and Mrs Weasley's curious glances and waited until she was home to open the gift, laughing when she did. It was a copy of the sequel to Taming a Dragon Tamer, entitled, The Auror Who Put a Spell On Me.

Poppy sighed. Without realising it, Charlie had managed to give her the perfect birthday gift - something to read at night to take her mind off the fact that she still wouldn't see him for a while and something to hopefully influence her dreams away from her recurring nightmare - almost every night, Poppy dreamt of the Dark Mark still.

But even with her good mood following her belated birthday present, there was a voice at the back of her head telling her that something bad was coming.

Not one week later, her feeling was proved true.

She was in her bedroom when she heard Fleur angrily shouting in French. Bill replied quickly, in a calmer tone, and then the door slammed shut before Poppy could make it to the living room to find out what had happened.

She found an angry looking Fleur in the kitchen brandishing a wooden spoon while she furiously muttered something under her breath.

"Everything okay?" Poppy asked slowly.

She was glad that Fleur didn't look like normal angry Veela with a beak and wings sprouting from her shoulders, and instead, her usually beautiful face was just slightly more haughty, her nose curved slightly which, if Poppy squinted, could have resembled a beak, and her shoulders seemed more tense.

Fleur glared darkly, and then continued to mutter under her breath. Poppy slowly slid onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar and waited patiently for Fleur to calm.

"I am sorry," Fleur said, finally, around ten minutes later. "I recite Proust when I am angry."

"That's fine," Poppy said, matter-of-factly. She interlaced her fingers and placed her hands on the worktop. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Fleur let out a long breath from her nose, and then said, "I did not mean to be angry, it is just that insufferable woman."

"Of course. She's horrendous. Absolutely abhorrent. I genuinely hate her, and you know me, I don't hate many people. Who are we talking about?" Poppy asked.

Fleur let out a belt of laughter and shook her head. "Ah, you do make me laugh sometimes. No, it is no one you know, it is Madame Umbridge. The lady who has taken over Hogwarts it seems."

Poppy frowned. She genuinely hadn't been expecting this. "Why're you…?"

Fleur sighed deeply. "Bill received a message. It seems that Fred and George and Harry have given bands from-"

"Bands?" Poppy asked, frowning. Was that something new that the Ministry had cooked up?

"Oh er…" Fleur said, frowning deeply, "what is the word? When you cannot do something. Er- when you are not allowed."

"Oh, bans," Poppy supplied.

"Bans. Yes. They have been given life long bans from Quidditch."

"What?" Poppy asked, her eyes widening.

"Yes. It is true," Fleur said, nodding sadly, "Bill heard it today, and he was angry, and said that he would need to go to his mother to make sure that she was all right. However, his anger set off my passion-"

"Veela anger," Poppy muttered.

"And I was unable to control my reaction. I called her bad words and sent Bill on his way as I calmed. However, now I think he will not return as he has now seen that I am…" Fleur frowned, pursing her lips, as if thinking hard for the right word.

Poppy smiled and shook her head. "If he's anything like his brothers, he'll find your protective side more than attractive. Bet you two galleons he'll be back as soon as he can."

Fleur sighed and nodded. "Yes, I hope so. It is not fair, is it? What this woman has done? After everything that they have gone through last year, with Ced-" Fleur stopped herself and sighed at Poppy, who had stilled.

"No," Poppy said after a moment, forcing herself to breathe again. "No I don't think it is. Do you know what happened? I know the twins can go too far sometimes, but this doesn't sound like-"

"Yes, well, Ginny wrote to say that one other student," Fleur said, in a more subdued tone, "a boy. I think she called him a ferret? I am not sure who-"

"Malfoy," Poppy said, nodding absentmindedly, thinking of what she'd been told the year before - that fake-Moody had turned Malfoy into a white ferret as punishment for trying to hex Harry while his back was turned. She still didn't agree with it or find it funny, and it was an unfortunate identifier for the boy now. "It'll take too long to explain."

"Yes, well, he called Bill's mother something like fat?" Fleur said.

"He did not," Poppy whispered, genuinely flabbergasted.

Fleur nodded. "And so George punched him in the face-"

"Of course," Poppy said.

"-and that woman has given this ferret boy-"

"-Malfoy-" Poppy interjected.

"-no punishment," Fleur continued, "Fred and George are to no longer play Quidditch, and Harry as well. It is not fair and I am angry."

"I'm right there with you," Poppy said, letting out a breath of shock.

"I thought of Gabi, and how I would feel if that happened to her. And after everything that Harry has had to go through? And for this to happen? I feel horrible for him," Fleur said, sighing. "I cannot imagine."

Poppy swore under her breath.

She wrote to Ginny that evening, but didn't hold her breath for a reply. She'd sent the younger girl a few letters since she'd heard on the grapevine that Umbridge had attempted to ban all student organisations at Hogwarts, but Poppy hadn't heard a peep from Ginny. Not one of her letters had been replied to.

She was beginning to think that Ginny was ignoring her.

Still, she tried.

At the end of November, Poppy found herself walking through a hallway in the Wizengamot offices with Kingsley, Percy, and the Minister for Magic himself.

Although Poppy wasn't yet allowed to go out on active cases, she'd been with Kingsley when the Minister had requested him as a bodyguard of sorts, and so she was excited to be on her first official duty even if it didn't include leaving the Ministry itself.

Kingsley had been talking about the Minister's new thoughts on something to do with Quidditch when Poppy gasped and smiled broadly at the sight of a young gentleman who walked out of a large meeting room down the hall.

Poppy had met Arthur, or Artie as she knew him, the previous year, at Christmastime, when she'd joined his group of friends for dessert and drinks in Paris on her way through to Romania. She'd stayed in loose contact with the group since, writing more to Allette and asking after the others in her letters. She found herself not only excited at the chance to see him, but also at the chance to say hi, and speak to someone unrelated to The Order, work, or school.

Artie was wearing a set of understated deep green robes which were cut well enough that even Poppy could tell the set must have cost quite a lot of money. He was just as tall as she remembered, just as handsome with his brown floppy hair, and just as charming, even from afar.

"Sorry," she muttered when Kingsley raised an eyebrow, but the Minister misread her excitement and said;

"You have a good eye. That's Arthur Fawley. He's here to advise the French government during their visit. Extremely promising career. English of course. Moved to Paris a few years ago and I'm still to forgive him but the pay is better, you see, and you can't keep someone like that away from fame and fortune," Fudge said, with a laugh and a shake of the head.

Poppy smiled politely, and watched as Percy began to rearrange his papers in his arm and puff out his chest to look more important. Her gut twisted when she remembered his attitude towards meeting people - if they were important, he needed to know them, or, rather, kiss their behinds.

Poppy would have rolled her eyes, but the rest of the French delegation were congregated down the hall now and had noticed Fudge, who was waving happily, and saying under his breath, "Smile, smile, they're here to be wooed."

Artie's polite smile turned into a grin when he saw her and, after saying something to a rather unimpressed looking witch who appeared to be looking down her nose at Fudge, Artie made his way over to the Minister for Magic, who he greeted warmly. They entered into the same verbal dance that Fudge had had with most people they'd bumped into so far that day;

"Fawley! How are you my old boy?" Fudge asked enthusiastically.

"Ah can't complain. You know why I'm here of course," Artie replied.

"Of course, of course," Fudge replied, "we'll get onto that in a moment. For now, I'd like to know one thing - how is your mother?"

"She's good," Artie said, smiling, but something told Poppy that Artie wanted to be doing anything other than chatting to Fudge.

"Still smiling? Still dancing?" Fudge asked.

Artie let out a sigh of a laugh and tilted his head. "Well, you know Sybil."

"I do, I do. Give her my best, will you?"

"Of course."

"Nasty business, this stuff with Dumbledore, don't you think?"

"Indeed."

Fudge faltered somewhat at Artie's single word answer. "Well, how's it all going today?"

He nodded behind Artie, and Poppy noticed the new chair of the International Confederation of Wizards, Supreme Mugwump Babajide Akingbade, standing in the midst of the group of ministers at the far end of the group. He was wearing a set of brightly coloured, patterned robes which reminded her of one of Kingsley's 'off-duty' sets.

"Ah I can't say much," Artie said, "we're still in the middle of delegations."

"Ah, well, I'm sure we can count on your support," Fudge said, his voice booming down the corridor, despite the rest of their conversation having been quieter. A few of the closer witches and wizards turned their heads to watch Fudge and Artie. "We need all the friends we can get with this terrible business. Demented, they say he is."

"Well, old age I suppose," Artie replied, glancing over his shoulder at their newfound audience.

"Yes, yes, must be, must be. Now, how's-"

But that was where Fudge's conversation differed from the rest. Rather than continuing, Artie seemed to have had enough - though he still appeared to be quite happy - and moved to greet Kingsley and be introduced to Percy.

Then, he turned to Poppy.

"Well, well, well," Artie said, moving forwards to pull her into a firm and friendly hug. "Long time no see!"

"How's Allette?" Poppy asked happily when he released her. She knew that Artie and Allette had fallen in love since they'd last met, and now lived together.

Artie laughed and shook his head, "She's good. As you well know. I think she catches up with you more than I write to my own mum! Though," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and fixing a charming smile onto his face, "that isn't saying much. But when you spend all day writing for the ICW it gets a bit tedious, going home to catch up on correspondence."

"ICW?" Percy asked, butting into the conversation before Poppy could ask if he'd thought about getting a self writing quill.

"International Confederation of Wizards," Poppy and Artie said at the same time.

"You go," Poppy said, waving her hand at Artie, but he laughed, stepped back, and told her to elaborate, and so she did, ignoring Percy's wide eyed look. "Artie used to work with the French Bureau de la Justice Magique, but he recently moved to the ICW's French office and is helping to streamline the Lichtenstein addition after Supreme Mugwump Akingbade succeeded Dumbledore this summer."

"Very good," Artie said, elongating the latter word as he stepped forwards again, "might see if we can find you a job. You could walk into rooms ahead of me and big me up so more people actually listen to me instead of assuming I'm getting the pumpkin juice."

Poppy's smile grew and she was about to retort, but then she saw Fudge, Percy and Kingsley watching her closely.

"We met in Paris last year," she explained, "I was on my way to the Romanian-" She stopped herself from mentioning the Dragon Sanctuary when she saw Percy's ears turn pink. "Uh, to an interview, and stopped off in Paris for the night. I was in this restaurant and spoke horrendous French, and Artie and his friends let me join them for dessert and wine."

"Ah don't put yourself down, it wasn't that bad," Artie said, grinning. "Oh, looks like I'm off again," he said, walking backwards towards his colleagues, who were beginning to move down the hall with the British delegation. "Hey, there's a fancy dinner tonight," he called to Poppy. "Minister, you don't mind if Poppy comes to dinner, do you?" he asked Fudge now.

Poppy's mouth fell open at his gall, but the Minister smiled good-naturedly and nodded, "I'm sure we could make room for another chair."

Percy took out a quill and began scribbling on the topmost piece of parchment, his nose so close to the page that Poppy thought he might end up with ink on his nose if he wasn't careful.

"Tu as travaillé ton français?" Artie called, before he rounded the corner.

"J'ai essayé!" Poppy called back. "Maintenant mon français est à peu près aussi mauvais que le tien!"

His laughter echoed back to where Poppy stood, and she smiled awkwardly at the trio next to her, who seemed to want her to explain more. "You don't have to bring me to dinner," she said, eyeing up Percy's notes and refusing to say more.

"Don't be ridiculous! We can't ignore a request from our friends," Fudge said, narrowing his eyes, "now, you speak French?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. She wasn't sure if he was suspicious of her speaking the language or that there was a chance she'd messed up by knowing Artie far better than he did.

"Not too well," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Ah, no no no," Fudge said, tutting, an odd smile on his face. "I don't believe many people are allowed to refer to Arthur Fawley as Artie… or get that kind of response from him." He appraised her for a long moment with a frown on his face, until suddenly his expression twisted into a triumphant smile and he nodded. "I believe we've just found our secret weapon, Wesley."

"W-weapon?" Poppy asked, looking quickly at Kingsley, who was still frowning. She ignored the fact that it seemed that Fudge still didn't know Percy's actual surname. "Uh- what- what do you mean?"

"Well," Fudge said jovially, "the French are somewhat… unconvinced… that Dumbledore really is as demented as he seems. We need someone to reassure them and the rest of the ICW that we have the matter under control. And who better to help us than a friend?"

He placed a heavy hand on Poppy's shoulder. "You are a friend, aren't you, Jacobs?"

Poppy nodded immediately and smiled. "Of course, Sir. Is uh… is the dinner at the Ministry?" she asked quickly, wondering if she had any dress robes suitable for a dinner.

Fudge simply laughed, and Poppy grimaced inwardly.

That night, after she'd finally been released from overtime at work (she had a feeling that Scrimgeour wasn't happy that she had been invited personally to the evening's event and had been trying to keep her in the office later so that she would be late for the event and not be in Fudge's good books any longer), Poppy found herself standing in front of her wardrobe, trying to choose between the dress robes she'd worn to the Yule Ball, or the new dress robes she'd been given from Fleur for her birthday.

Not wanting to show off too much cleavage, and deciding that sparkles might draw too much attention, she decided on the ones from Fleur.

The set was made from a silk-like material - at least, Poppy hoped that it wasn't real silk - she could only imagine the cost if it was. It was fitted at the top, with tight sleeves and a square-neckline. The bottom flowed out from the hips to the floor, and had a slit which ended just above her left knee.

Poppy decided to pair the outfit with heels that she transfigured to be the same colour as the dress, and then called upon Fleur to work her hair magic on her.

At first, Fleur didn't seem too happy that Poppy was using the dress for a function rather than for something more special, but she changed her tune when Poppy explained about who the function was for, and its importance. Then, Fleur agreed that a French dress could, and should, be used.

It only took them twenty minutes to make Poppy 'presentable' - while Fleur helped to pile Poppy's hair up into an elegant curly up-do and picked out a pair of gold earrings, Poppy worked on her full face of make-up.

And by the time Poppy left home, she found that she was only ten minutes late.

She decided to Apparate to Seven Dials - the reception was being held in a secret Wizarding structure there.

At first, Poppy was anxious, feeling the pit in her stomach grow and grow, but when she arrived at the landmark and saw an elderly couple slip into the base of the monument in the middle of the junction, and she felt her anxiety ebb away - the entrance reminded her of the entrance to Place Cachée, and it was somewhat encouraging that she wasn't the very last to arrive.

She walked quickly over to the monument, and stood there for a moment, looking around at the Muggles who walked past their way home, to dinner, or to the theatre. Once she knew that no one was watching her, she slipped inside the stone base.

Coming out on the other side, she found herself at the bottom of a very large and long set of marble steps which led to the base of a gigantic building. The steps were encased by two sets of banisters which were lit by floating candles, and beyond them, darkness. Behind her stood the other side of the magical statue, and around that, similar darkness.

It would have been terrifying, if Poppy had thought of it properly - to be in a place so removed from everything else. But she didn't have time to think, as she heard the booming voice of Fudge greeting someone far above her. She turned back to the marble staircase and began to walk up, regretting her choice of shoes.

Oddly, the building appeared to get smaller as she got closer to it, until she reached the top of the staircase and found that it had only looked gigantic due to the columns of the entrance hall which rose ominously into the skyline.

Floating candles continued to light Poppy's path up some more steps through the columns, and soon she found herself inside a large entrance hall, complete with red carpet which led into what looked to be an incredibly busy and packed reception area.

If the chandeliers and ornate gold leaf patterns on the ceiling were enough to go by, Poppy thought she might, even in her new dress, be underdressed. Only Fleur's voice in her head saying, "For an evening like this, my maman told me; dress in one colour. You will look chic. Dress in many, you will look cheap," could keep her feeling good.

After giving her name to the witch who stood outside the function room marking names off with an inkless quill as people arrived, Poppy joined the large congregation of International wizards and witches.

Accepting a glass of something bubbly from a server-less platter which floated by her, Poppy began to move around the room, pretending to sip her drink while she listened in to conversations here and there, gathering information.

She did this for only ten minutes before Percy found her. He was wearing what looked like a new set of robes, in a lighter shade of blue than she'd seen him wear before. She complimented him, and he smiled genuinely.

"You look nice as well," Percy said, frowning slightly as he looked her up and down.

"You sound surprised. You know you've seen me dressed up before, Perce," Poppy joked, looking around to avoid the awkwardness of meeting his eye. Did he think she looked ridiculous? she wondered.

"True…" Percy replied thoughtfully. "Did Fleur help you with the makeup?"

"No…" Poppy replied, frowning herself now.

"I thought she may have. She's rather talented, isn't she?" Percy asked, looking around.

Poppy sighed and shifted in her dress.

"Have you lost weight?" he asked when she turned to face the room, as if he hadn't noticed before.

"Maybe… I'm not sure," Poppy replied awkwardly. The dress, which Fleur had said should fit her based on the size of her Yule Ball dress, did seem on the looser side now. "Probably all the training," she added.

"It suits you," he said, nodding. "I hadn't noticed before."

Poppy wanted to say that she didn't want him to have noticed, but they were interrupted by Artie, who was sporting a set of green dress robes, a handsome grin, and two glasses.

"Well, well, well," Artie greeted, handing her a glass of sparkling golden drink, to replace the one she hadn't drunk already. He sent her a cheeky wink and gave the slightest nod, as if to say, play along. "Looking absolutely stunning as usual, Jacobs," he said loudly.

"You flatter me," Poppy replied with a smile, understanding what he was doing.

"I could flatter you some more if…" Artie stopped and raised an eyebrow at Percy, who still stood next to Poppy.

Percy blushed and left quickly.

Artie leant in and lowered his voice. "Didn't mean to be too flirty, but I thought you looked like you needed an out and I'm sure Allette will forgive me. Now, come with me."

Then, he made her grin by spiriting her away to introduce her to his boss, three colleagues, and the entirety of the French Quidditch Team. For a while, Poppy forgot that she wasn't meant to be having fun at this work event, and excitedly asked the Quidditch players if they wouldn't mind signing her napkin. She placed a stasis charm on it before she popped it in her bag, excited that she'd managed to get Charlie's birthday present sorted.

Once she'd finished a long conversation with the French Keeper, a rather lovely witch named Margaux Boucher, Poppy turned around to find that Artie had gone. A quick scan of the room allowed her to see that he was now deep in conversation with a wizard in the corner.

Poppy frowned deeply and watched the pair as Artie slid one hand into his pocket, raising his glass, held in the other, to his lips. His expression remained blank, but his hand shook, and his eyes darted here and there as he listened to the other wizard speak.

Poppy was about to move towards the men, to try and listen in to their conversation, when a loud bell ring sounded, and the chatter in the room stopped long enough for a man to shout, "Dinner is served. Le diner est servi."

By the time she looked around once more, Artie and the wizard were nowhere to be seen.

Poppy joined the crowd on their way into the grand and ostentatious Grand Dining Hall, but just before she reached the doors, Kingsley pulled her to the side. He said that he had come to check that Poppy had her wand, knew all of the exits in case the Minister needed them (as she would sat so close to him), and confirmed that she would choose a different dish to the dignitaries around her (in case of a poisoning attack).

He also winked at her and said to keep up the good work, have fun, and not let Fudge get to her too much.

She didn't have long to wonder what he meant.

During dinner, which was served in nine courses at the longest table Poppy had ever seen, Poppy was sat inexplicably next to the French Minister for Magic himself, and barely had time to eat as she spent most of the meal attempting to translate for Fudge who sat across from her and randomly shouted things across the table. The rest of her meal was spent apologising profusely to the French Minister when she translated the wrong words.

Though, the French Minister seemed more concerned with his wine, steak, and eyeing up his date, to truly notice where she went wrong with her language.

Between the second main and first dessert, Poppy headed to the loo, and found Artie waiting for her when she exited the elaborate women's bathroom.

"Oh!" she said, looking around, seeing no one else in the hallway. "Are you-"

"He's back, isn't he?" Artie asked quickly, stepping closer to her.

Poppy opened her mouth once or twice, but didn't know what to say at the serious and slightly grey look on Artie's face. She didn't know what to say. She'd not been expecting him to be there, let alone say that.

"I know," he said, stepping closer to her still. "I know you'll be in trouble if you say anything, but just… just nod if you believe, okay? This is almost what happened with Grindelwald. He went quiet for a few years and then came back with a vengeance. I- Poppy, I need to know what the government really thinks. Are they secretly working on something? Or are we actually, truly, unprepared?."

"I- Artie," she whispered, stepping even closer, "the government line is that he's not back. It's impossible. And I can't take a side on it. I can't lose my job. But… Dumbledore and Alastor Moody think that he is."

She hoped that he would take from her words what he wanted - either that she believed the government, or Dumbledore, depending on his own decision.

"I know. I… I heard Dumbledore's speech this summer and I've been trying to convince the French Ministry that they need to be ready but Fudge is so convincing," he whispered urgently. "Look. I know you have to toe the government line on this, but from what Allette's said, you've got your head screwed on. You're an Auror-in-training for Merlin's sake. You need to know that this situation… it's dangerous, and you need to start believing before it's too late, okay?"

Poppy nodded quickly.

"Do you know Alastor Moody?" he asked quietly. Again, Poppy nodded. It was dangerous for her to say, she knew, but something told her she could trust Artie. And she had to trust her gut, didn't she?

"Artie, are you-"

But they were interrupted by a door opening, and they both looked round to see a man with long white hair exiting the men's bathroom, flicking a cane in front of him.

Poppy felt immediately uneasy as she made eye contact with the man. Her stomach tied itself in knots, and she felt more on edge than she had in weeks. She knew of him, of course, Lucius Malfoy, friend of the Ministry and definite Death Eater according to Harry and the Order, but this was the first time she'd met him, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to meet him again.

"Ah," Malfoy said, smiling at them both, "should you not be at the party?"

"We were just having a chat," Artie replied jovially, though his voice shook slightly as he nodded to Malfoy.

Malfoy, in turn, raised an eyebrow at Poppy and looked her up and down. "Is that a Monsieur Tailleur," he asked.

Poppy nodded, remembering the name from the box her robes had been delivered in.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking from her face to her dress and back. His eyes darkened, and Poppy stood straighter, knowing what the look meant. After a pointed look at Artie, he turned slowly and left, his cane clacking on the floor.

They watched him go and listened in tense silence until they couldn't hear his cane anymore, and then Artie whispered, as if understanding something suddenly, "You're Muggle-born, aren't you?"

"Uh- yeah," Poppy replied, frowning.

"What did you think of that man?" he asked quickly, looking over his shoulder. Poppy was honest about how Malfoy made her feel, and he nodded and sent her a small smile. "Yeah, that's about right. Right. Well, he won't try anything while you're with Fudge. Wouldn't be that stupid," he said to himself, rubbing his chin. "Look, go out, enjoy the night. Pretend I didn't say anything for now. But next time I'm in London we need to chat. I need to ask you to pass something on to Moody for me. I can ask that much of you, can't I?"

"You can," she said, placing a calming hand on his forearm.

Poppy returned to the table with shaking legs, and continued to translate for Fudge. But her mind was distracted. She looked for Artie down the table, but when she found him, he looked fine once more, laughing along with his colleagues, his shaking gone, his face a normal colour once more.

She wanted to do the same - act fine - but she could barely stomach a taste of the final round of courses. Not with Malfoy sat ten spaces down from Fudge. He hadn't looked at her again, but she felt as though she needed to check on him constantly - check that he hadn't moved, or that he was still there.

And even though Malfoy didn't acknowledge her again, she couldn't shake the feeling that for the first time that night she was also being watched. By the time dessert was finished, she'd had to apologise to the French Minister for saying the wrong thing three times in the space of two minutes.

Later, once everyone had gone home, and Kingsley checked in with her, instead of Apparating home she went straight to the Order headquarters and knocked on the door. She felt as though she needed the comfort of going somewhere secret, somewhere she couldn't be followed.

She knocked a few times, and had to wait for at least ten minutes before Sirius opened the door for her. In that time she'd managed to steel herself - it didn't appear that anyone else was in the square, and the fresh nights' air calmed her.

When Sirius did open the door, she thought for a moment that she'd woken him up until she smelt a faint whiff of whisky on his breath. She caught herself before she let out an audible whine - the poor man had been forced to stay in his family home for months now, and it didn't seem as though the situation was getting any easier for him. It seemed that his only solace continued to be the bottom of a bottle of alcohol.

At the look on her face he seemed to sober and invited her inside, leading her to the kitchen. No one else was in the house, he said, and it did appear to be eerily quiet. When she mentioned this to Sirius, he simply laughed and said he embraced the silence- it meant that he wasn't fighting with the ancient House-Elf, Kreacher, was off skulking somewhere upstairs, and so wouldn't disturb them.

Over a large mug of tea, Poppy explained everything that had happened, and asked Sirius if he could pass it on to Dumbledore or Moody if they dropped by - it was too soon, she thought, for her to be summoning the men herself. He sobered while she talked and agreed to do as she'd asked.

At one point Sirius pointed out that Moody's cynicism was finally getting to her. But he also agreed that although Artie had approached her and although he had not seemed himself and she had seen him speaking to an unknown wizard, Poppy couldn't be completely sure that it wasn't all just an elaborate ruse to get her to admit her allegiances. They wouldn't put that past Scrimgeour.

Then, once she'd finished her tea he walked her to the front door and told her to be safe, "Well, as safe as an Auror can be," before he stood at the door and watched her leave. She couldn't be sure, as she didn't stick around, but she had the feeling that Sirius wasn't going to shut the front door or leave the top of the stairs for a while. Something told her the discarded bottle she'd seen in the tiny front garden was his. She smiled as she walked home - it was comforting that perhaps he also stood there and calmed by breathing in the crisp nights' air as she had.

The smile fell from her face when she thought about Artie and the next time she'd see him. She thought about writing to him, but she didn't know what to say.

His words of worry stayed with her, like a black spot on her heart, for the best part of a week and a half until something shocking and horrific occurred, something which put Fred, George and Harry's lifetime Quidditch bans into perspective.