A/N: You know when I said that this may have 7-ish more chapters? Well, looks like I love a little filler chapter here and there so it might be a lot longer!
Plus, I am still deciding how I want this to end but I can assure you that not everyone is going to do (I think)
Thank you so much for your comments! It helps me stay motivated. It's funny how with each chapter it's just me going "UGH and then I have this academic thing around the corner!"
By the time I am done with this story, I'll probably be a B.A. What to do with a B.A. in English?
Song of the Chapter: Francesca by Hozier
The summer was not as easy as it could have been. It could have looked different. She could be running around, island hopping, travelling around, and finding out about local magics. Getting her affairs in order proved to be a troublesome task. In fairness, looking for a ministry job that could pay for their lives without any training was abysmal at best. Remus, though he supported her decision, pointed out that it was perhaps not in her interest to work at the ministry, let alone be a part of the very machine she hated.
"Are you sure you don't want to go back to St. Mungo's?" he'd ask occasionally. But no, it would mean that she wouldn't be able to go back to Sirius. St. Mungo's had long nights and no regular scheduling.
It took the Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch to help her. They were family friends, the relative of a relative.
"So, you want a job in the ministry?" Hassan asked. He pulled out a Cleopatra and set it alight with his wand. "I thought you'd be saying something more criminal than that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're hiding a criminal and need help?"
Eliza felt her heart race. He couldn't know, could he? Had they been that reckless? Had Sirius been spotted?
But then he laughed.
"Honestly, those people at the ministry. You're the last person to harbor Black, you love your peace too much, I told them that. I walked into that room and said no, she would not go near that man before half of Luxor beats him up for putting you under an imperius curse!"
Eliza frowned.
"You… think he put me under an imperius curse?"
"That's what they were all saying, why else will you disappear for so long? We all said Dumbledore sent you away so you could get better, and then you return – to teach Muggle Studies, not least, at Hogwarts the second he breaks out? Pah!" Hassan shook his head. "I call that a protection program."
"I… I wasn't under a curse."
Eliza never once gave a moment to think about what the wizarding community thought about her. She had been so focused on survival and building back her life, that it never once occurred to her that other people would be thinking of her too. After the initial period of mourning, she'd tried to talk to people, but no reply came.
Coming back, even if it had only been Hogwarts, she remembered precisely what she loathed about it. It was the constant upkeep of who she should be hanging around with, what she should do, and lying about herself. There were genuine moments, yes, but it all felt like a ruse.
Hassan shook his head.
"Even if you weren't, I propose you tell people that when you work at the Ministry. They would not want someone to undermine their authority." There was a glint in Hassan's eyes. She counted her breaths. This was bad. Coming back was already bad.
He changed subjects and pulled out a piece of paper. "Now I asked around and uh, there is an opening. You know, it's what your skill set is good for. It is perfect."
Eliza had a sinking feeling that it was not something she'd like. He was just buttering her up. The paper he held was nothing more than a job opening that must have been on a billboard. Before she could reach out and read it, he snatched it away.
"But tell me one thing," he said. "Why the ministry? Don't you have better places to be?"
Well, Eliza thought in my head. I am glad you asked, Hassan. You see, I've always wanted to be in politics. I love how flawed it is.
Hassan grimaced. "You know more than anyone just how inscrutable the system is. No?"
"I know, I just… think maybe I will find something."
It did not feel convincing.
He grunted. "Well, you will find something alright. There's a job opening in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department."
Eliza opened and closed her mouth. That was neither well-paid nor a well-respected job. But what else was she supposed to do following a stint as the teacher of Muggle Studies?
"Your N.E.W.T.S. didn't help, I'm afraid," he shrugged. "I asked around but…."
"But Black," she finished.
"Ana assef, but they think it's too risky."
Eliza rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn't know that could happen. And yet, former Death Eaters held high-level positions.
It made no sense, but she would take it.
That night she took on the job. Sirius had scowled at it. This time, they were on Nightingale Island.
"You must be joking."
"I'm not."
"Misuse of Muggle Artefacts?" he repeated. "Magical injuries? I mean, I'm sure that is a wonderful job, but you of all people – "
He didn't finish his sentence. The colour had returned to his face since Sirius went on the run. He had a little bit more meat on his bones too, which meant that he was feeling a little bit more like her Sirius.
Which also meant that he was going to be a prick at times.
"Anything nosy happening in Privet Drive?" Sirius asked. Eliza shook her head. "It's been a quiet"
Eliza pulled out two bottles of beer. She slammed the bottle top against the makeshift wooden table, which popped open the lid. Sirius' eyes turned into saucers.
"Wow."
"They don't teach you that at Hogwarts," she leaned back against one of the trees. "Has anything happened here?"
"I watched the birds. Got a letter from Harry."
"How lovely."
"And Remus?" Sirius asked. "Did his time of the month go well?"
She told him about Dolores Umbridge's new rule against employing werewolves. Something flashed in Sirius's eyes and before she knew it, he was cursing profanities at the woman.
"That's what I said as well," Eliza added. "Just… a lot more fancy."
"Oh call her as it is!" Sirius grumbled. "I don't trust that woman. I was in the marketplace near Madagascar the last week. Overheard something disturbing about that woman."
"Being?"
"She's cracking down on imports because, and I quote, the standard of their products do not match those of the British Wizarding Community. Well, let's watch her scramble when she realizes where to get her Wormwood."
"I doubt she does her own potions, Sirius."
Sirius sniffed at his drink. "What's this?"
"Red Stripe, the best beer on the market here."
He took a swig and coughed. "It's alcoholic!"
"It's muggle beer, what do you expect?" Eliza felt the corner of her mouth tugging. It was nice to see him come back to himself just a little bit, whatever that was supposed to mean.
"I'm a little bit off my alcohol game, I might get Halloween of 75' drunk."
Eliza wrinkled her nose. She remembered Sirius being drunk alright. It was a Tuesday night, so the Marauders had a harder time explaining why Sirius was off his rockers.
"I am pretty sure the No Drunk Quidditch rule came about because of you."
They sat in silence. Then, Sirius opened his mouth.
"You do know that if you work for the Ministry, you won't be able to come to me," Sirius voiced. "It would be too dangerous. What if you have after-work drinks? Or someone tried to follow you home?"
Eliza pursed her lips.
"I'm playing the long game."
"And what would that be?"
"Finding a way to prove your innocence," Eliza wrapped her arms around her legs. "It's a stupid idea, I know."
He grumbled. Eliza could not decipher what he was saying.
"What was that?"
"Can't you just be here with me? Isn't that enough?" he spoke up.
"But Remus –"
"Remus can take care of himself, he's old enough!"
"He's alone."
"And so am I!" Sirius burst out. "Blimey, you've been sending me to places where I don't speak the language. The only people here are you, me, Buckbeak, and a bunch of animals."
He set down his beer.
"I…" Eliza trailed on. "I need to keep an eye on Harry too."
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Then fine. Leave. Go to your little wolfsbane potion and your perfect house in Whinging to take care of your little friend in Yorkshire."
"Sirius!"
"You can't be everywhere. You can't keep living two lives."
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
How can a job cause so much despair?
The next time Eliza tried to come back to Sirius, he left no trace for her to follow.
Stay home.
The last Eliza had been to the World Cup was in 1974 when the Syrian team won against Madagascar. Oh how lively the celebrations were, the music. She clearly remembered how her cousins had pulled her along while they danced. That had been a shock to her as her mother never taught her anything outside of waltzes and ballroom dances. Britain had been kicked out in the penultimate round back then, which made some people mad.
Now it was on home turf.
She tucked her scarf of green around her neck. She would be cheering for Ireland this time around. While she wasn't up-to-date on the international league of Quidditch, she did solicit every once in a while in the Quidditch magazines. It didn't take long to figure out who was the Romário of the Quidditch world these days. Viktor Krum was young, which made Eliza tsk. She did not like "the younger, the better", especially in Sports. It left room for too much power abuse and control.
While on a hunt for some satay nearby the Malaysian Quidditch fans, she ran into three curious children clad in green.
"Harry!" Eliza grinned. Harry, though she had seen him from afar during the summer, had grown taller. His hair reached past his eyebrows and needed a cut, seeing as he didn't know how to deal with James Potter's inherited hair swirls.
"Professor!" he exclaimed and gave her a great hug.
"Harry, I'm not your professor anymore," she reminded him.
"I know, but I'm just used to it," he closed in on her. "Have you heard anything from Padfoot?"
Eliza took a deep breath.
"He is fine."
She did not want to tell Harry that she was properly pissed at Sirius for leaving without telling her where he was going. Instead, she put on a smile.
"That's good," he seemed to be relieved. "Listen… there's something I want to talk to you about. I've written to him but I don't want him to do anything haste and show up so…."
Eliza looked around. It was loud, but there were people around.
"Now is not the best place and time, Harry."
He nodded his head vigorously. "I know. When do you have time?"
"How about after the game, if it doesn't go too long?"
Harry scratched his head. "I think… it would be better if you visited me at the Burrow – uh, The Weasley's, if you know where it is."
She nodded.
Hermione pointed out that two of their school friends, Dean and Seamus, were nearby and off they went again.
The seats she had were high up in the stadium, something the muggles would call the "nosebleeds". However, for Quidditch, when you had to look everywhere, they were perfect. The only downside was the weather, seeing as they were in England at the height of the summer, it wasn't far-fetched that it could rain. Nearby her, a lone house elf sat. Whispering in front of her. The seat next to her was free. She frowned. Something was not right.
It could have been a great night. The celebrations, the camaraderie, but when celebrations turned to screams, and the flames flickered around the flags that stood loud and proud, it turned into a nightmare.
The moment the Dark Mark hit the sky, her blood turned cold.
Is Sirius right? Maybe. Is Eliza being a little bit unreasonable? Also maybe. Is this a people-pleaser thing? Also maybe.
