January 25, 1998

I awaited the day when these little lunches would come to an end.

Ianthe Avery, Harrow's mother, had been making it a point to visit Lucinda for tea. It was a fairly cheap tactic to remind her of the position Lucinda was in with regards to Thornell and a combination of arrogance of what her son could have. Lucinda had been playing up her age and the stress the Averys had put under to try and make them feel more secure. She explained it to me as a spry old woman living for another several decades would make them far less angry than a tired, feeble one.

I was beginning to think Lucinda had too much time on her hands to think of ways to mess around with the Averys.

At present, I had been invited to the latest tea party at the request of Lucinda – who had long ago run out of things to discuss with her cousin's wife that were not my pleasing suggestions of 'Choke on a scone.'

Which is how I found myself sitting in the small, out of the way parlor in Thornell caressing my tea on the couch while I tried not to look at Harrow Avery's face – strangely sallow looking and tired, but not in a way that was alarming, just someone who seemed tired and perhaps bored by these formalities. No. Harrow would not be bored by this. Must have missed his morning tea.

Isolt's panties, this man really needed to find other ways to amuse himself.

Perhaps by joining the Death Eaters and dying.

We'd all be better off.

The tea was a peaceful affair, full of the polite utterances and carefully managed nods of agreement on topics that skirted the line of political. The chinking of the china plates and teacups would break through the periodic intervals of polite silence and lulls in the inane conversation.

Lucinda elected to speak of her plans for the garden in the Spring, the new trees and bushes she intended to have planted and showed pictures Tavish had drawn of a potential maze and some of the plants he wanted to include. The pair of them had left out the poisonous ones – just in case some things needed to look accidental.

Or I needed to craft a poison to engage in more dastardly schemes than social politics.

It could happen.

The little cakes and biscuits that came with the tea were soon left to crumbs and the chatter could commence with more meaningful topics.

Such as the ongoing threat of arranging a marriage between myself and Harrow.

I suddenly understood why Lucinda wanted me here for this. She wanted me to hear this directly and perhaps make any arrangements I felt necessary. Leave the country. Hide at the Embassy. Marry Percy and put a larger target on both of our backs. Percy and I refused to marry under duress- it was a talk we had regularly. Unless we were no longer in a position to stay in Britain, we had agreed to flee to Spain and meet with Pearl and Eddie. Perhaps get married in an old church or the beach, whatever people did when they eloped from fascist governments, and perhaps consider a move to the states or staying in Europe. We would make those decision later, but marrying would make it easier for us to run to whatever part of the world was safer.

Ianthe hit the major points in favor of such a marriage alliance with a force that one generally did not expect from such a wispy frame. It kept Thornell in the family, there was less paperwork regarding inheritance, that I had a suitable linage and there had been no sign of Alex in quite some time. Even if he showed up tomorrow to proclaim his intentions to take Thornell for his own, it was too late for Alex to do that.

Harrow had tried to talk me into the alliance, now his mother was trying to swing Lucinda into the Averys camp.

Lucinda looked thoughtful, she played her part well as a doting, well-meaning and old-fashioned woman of declining means and power. She was all polite questions and demur expressions. Her general competence seemingly neutered for an impression of exhaustion and stress that I was not entirely sure was faked for the convenience of current company.

"Oh, I don't know," Lucinda uttered in a sort of half sigh, defeat edging into the remainder of her sentence. "Audrey, what do you think?"

This was a delicate matter. Lucinda was giving me the power to tell the Averys to get out or play them along a little bit longer, Harrow and his family were to committed to this idea of an easy transition to give up easily or quietly in any case.

"Madam Avery, Harrow, I'm so sorry, but I don't feel as if I can commit to any real position on this matter. Not with my Auntie being so fatigued of late. I'm afraid my commitments are tied up for the present." I gave them my brightest, warmest smile as a sort of sheepish apology for their inconvenience.

I rose from my seat; Harrow rising as well to extend a hand and attempt the role of courteous gentleman of means and motive. I managed to avoid contact with his sweaty hands by pretending not to notice the gesture and utter a quick apology for the social flub, blaming my American propensity for independence.

Slipping away on the basis of a meeting with Tavish regarding horticulture orders was an easy excuse, but it was not one I was sure I could use again.

Oo0Oo0

February 19, 1998

My move to the Law Enforcement office at the start of the year was a threat and reminder from Umbridge of what would happen to me if I spoke out to MACUSA. It was too late for that, but it was really the thought that counted.

Now I filed papers about people who had been sent to Azkaban. I had more names. I had their careers. I had their false crimes.

I allowed myself a moment of smug victory, it would be more than enough. This was valuable information and I had done a good job getting to this point.

I outfoxed Umbridge and in her pettiness, she had handed everything I truly wanted to me on a plate with dessert on the way. Sweet as apple pie!

It meant I could confirm the locations of where the deceased were found. Where others had been captured and where they had been put within the Azkaban network of cells- any other bits of important information were now in my hands because people thought me a loyal, apathetic sycophant at last.

The only issue was this I now had to toe the party line on everything I hated. I was still not trusted, but I was too valuable and now clearly supportive of the regime, despite my foreigner status. I had increased in value in some ways, but in others, nothing had really changed.

Yaxley as the acting head of the department was a constant looming presence. I remembered his torturing of me down into the marrow of my bones and declined to spend more time with him than absolutely necessary. He leered at me as he walked by, seemingly surprised at my presence and reminding me of things I could not forget.

But today, there was something different in the air.

A tension that I was not sure I could place or understand. It was like the air was vibrating with words unspoken, a sort of language I did not understand. A silent ruckus tied into a string of whispers and noise the bubbled and popped and grew in volume as word spread faster and faster through whispers of truth and rumor.

Someone had been arrested.

When I probed for more information, stating that I had a neighbor with suspicious hobbies, the words of the other secretaries seemed to dry up. The older ones leading the younger ones away or encouraging their silence. I was confused. I had been earning trust here over the last few weeks, but that was not enough for what was going on.

My day passed me by in a sort of silence. All a quiet repression of something that no one wanted to speak of in my presence.

When Jasmine found me for an afternoon cup of coffee, she finally put the pieces together for me due her better position within the hierarchy of gossip. It was a rushed walk to the small kitchen where she hid her coffee maker and various assortments. I could tell she had something to tell me by how insistent she was that we needed to walk faster. Once the door was closed behind us, she quickly made and forced a cup of coffee into my hands- a sympathetic cup to deliver upsetting news.

It was all very British.

Jasmine heaved a sigh, catching her breath after the brisk walk across the Ministry for a bit of privacy. "They arrested an American this morning. No one wanted to tell you because they thought you would be upset. They all think Americans all know each other."

Interesting...

"Oh, well, that makes sense. Britain has a smaller population of wizards and you all know each other by proxy or reputation to some extent. America is too big for that in any case. Who was arrested?"

Some part of me knew.

"Some woman with a printing press, a newspaper woman called Valerie, I think?"

"Valencia." I corrected without thinking, almost dropping my coffee in, if not surprise, then horror at the correctness of what I had told her would happen if she was caught. If I focused on the coffee maker on the counter, I could stay calm. I knew enough of the Ministry and Azkaban to understand how dire this was.

"You know her?"

"I've heard of her," I debated for a moment about how much to say, but Jasmine would want to know and I clearly was going to be persona non grata again over this latest development. I would hear nothing else except through her if today had been any indication. I sighed, resigning myself. "Valencia Talbott is... Someone with a reputation back in the states. About nine years ago, there was a massive trial regarding her..." How much do I say? No. No half measures. "She was drugged and raped by a sitting MACUSA Senator and the trial was the biggest political scandal in twenty years."

Jasmine blinked. "Merlin's tits."

I could have laughed, but the raw horror inside of me had overcome everything else. I set down my coffee and drummed my fingers on the counter. "Anything else?"

Jasmine breathed out slowly, "It wasn't just an arrest."

"What do you mean?"

"I heard she was talking to people, other Americans..." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Valencia was arrested, the others were killed."

No. I did not hear that. That was a state sponsored murder. That was an international issue now. The kind that could not be brushed aside and the Americans were already flying hot on several other issues coming out of Britain.

"MACUSA won't stand for this..." I breathed, barely comprehending the horror. "Graves doesn't give a damn about Valencia, but dead Americans is a whole new ball game..."

Jasmine put another spoonful of sugar in her coffee and stirred it quietly.

I could hear my brain working on every solution and angle that would occur in the next several hours once the word got to Elihu and the Embassy. If we had not broken every tie with the Ministry, that was not going to be far away now. This was beyond the pale. This was the sort of thing wars were started over, now MACUSA would have the final bit of leverage they needed to come fight in a foreign war. This war in Britain would no longer be a domestic affair, it would be a truly international display and Jack Graves hungered for it.

Leaving the Ministry was now inevitable, but I could not just walk out now, I needed more information and I needed to stay to try and get more information and buy time.

Some part of me was not ready to leave the Ministry yet. Maybe it was the routine, or the fight or the daily conundrum of politics and the stress. Perhaps the idea of being in a completely separate location from Percy made the decision to go into hiding less appealing than it would be otherwise.

"Are they having a trial?"

"Hm?"

"For Valencia? A formal accusation of the crimes against the Ministry?"

Jasmine shook her head. "My understanding is they brought her in, signed the papers and moved her directly to Azkaban." Jasmine paused, "I can't confirm if what I told you about the dead Americans is correct, I hope that's just a wild rumor."

Yeah. There was going to be no salvaging this with MACUSA.

"I see." I picked up my coffee to take a sip with shaking hands. "We need to assume it's true because this isn't going to be good."

There was a clink of china on the countertop. "Go home, Audrey."

"I'm sorry?"

"We both know your embassy will not stand for this, even if it's a rumor. I suggest you go home and don't come back to the Ministry."

"Are you telling me to go into hiding? That's odd for you."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "I'll miss you, but I'd prefer to miss you than mourn you."

I tapped my foot a couple of times and took another sip of coffee, coming to a decision and knowing that I would probably regret it. "I need to see this out. It could be nothing, but I need more information before I make any decisions. Like you said, it could just be a rumor."

Part of me knew it was not a rumor, but the extent of what happened was still a mystery and I needed confirmation.

"You're insane."

"No sane person would stay here this long."

"Are you saying I'm mad too?"

"Yes."

Jasmine rolled her eyes and made a little noise of disapproval and disgust.

I think we were straddling the line of friendship here and neither of us really knew what to do with it. We were not supposed to be friends. We were just supposed to be weird allies in a world gone off the rails. Now it had built something between the pair of us that could be a long-lasting alliance or maybe a kind of friendship that could grow to something longer than the duration of the war.

But Jasmine was going to have to deal with her half-breed racism. That was non-negotiable. I cared too deeply for Misty to continue Jasmine's company unless she broadened her mind that way- if there were future schemes, I could complete them alone, but the company over the past few months had been a boon and pleasure.

I could work on that later.

Thanking Jasmine for the coffee and the warning, I managed to leave the room with a feeling of utter dread in possession of my senses. This had devolved into absolute insanity and now all of the balls were in the air, out of my reach and beyond my control.

I spent the next hour in the Law Enforcement Office listening for any word of Valencia and the rumored dead Americans.

In return for my attentiveness, I received nothing. It was like it never occurred at all, but Jasmine was too through and connected to lie to me- she heard something and at the moment, I trusted it to be fact. There was too much silence in my presence to tell me otherwise.

Knowledge was a burden. It was as if I was trapped in a relentless cycle of curiosity and horror. Prayers of hope that the rumors were untrue, exaggerations of a horrid arrest. Perhaps the dead, if there truly were any, were British. That was no better in ethics, but the consequences would be far less disastrous.

I was tasked to attend to the lower court filings with a few other clerks, moving the files of months ago trials to their new homes in the upper floors. A file office reserved for the Muggle-born trials, Umbridge liked to go in there and look at them occasionally, I did not want to think about what she was doing in there, but I was continuing to keep a mental filing of each one that crossed my path. As Umbridge so enjoyed seeing people brought low, she requested that these files be manually brought up the proper office to prevent to their being misplaced by magic. Umbridge really was a substandard witch in every way.

I followed the three other chattering clerks down the lower levels, the creeping dread of the dementors left me whispering the patronus charm under my breath. It did nothing but sooth my nerves and warm my wand in my hands, filling me with a sense of warmth that kept the dread and sadness away.

While the dementors permeated the walls, my fellow clerks found other ways to keep their mood up. Talking about boys and marriage. Because that was the only reason they were allowed this job at all by their families.

"Father says to try and find a man from a the Sacred Twenty-Eight," one of the girls chirped as the dementor dread faded as we entered the storage room where the trial files were stored until it was time to bring them up for archiving. "But there are not a lot of those left."

"What do you mean?" The second asked, Camilla Pucey was short with a dark bob haircut that surrounded her round face. "They're out there. Maybe not in the Ministry, but they're wandering around somewhere. Unless you're looking for money too?"

The first girl, Verity Overmoore, sighed. "Father implied money, but those are all old men." She shuddered. "I don't want to wake up to that in my bed. I want someone handsome."

Camilla rolled her eyes, "I thought your family was trying to arrange something with the Averys?"

Oh, that was juicy.

I arranged my box of files and records as the girls did the same nearby.

"Yes, but he's too old."

I can see that; I think Harrow is around thirty? I never paid it much mind. I know he's close in age to Alex. To a girl fresh out of school, that would be a reasonable thought to have.

The third girl spoke up, her name was Rodmilla Du Hamel, and she took the lead to the staircase. "My father says the name comes first, we're comfortable." She paused, "If you all were less picky, there's a Weasley in the Minister's Office."

I struggled to remain impassive.

The other two girls made birdish noises.

Verity blanched, "I'm not that desperate! They're all blood-traitors with no money, I don't care if the Ministry kept him. He's not bringing any good connections to any marriage alliance."

"Plus," Camilla added, "imagine raising a house full of boys! They don't really have girls, except the little girl Weasley, and she's apparently a complete accident of birth. We looked those family trees, the Weasleys had not had a daughter in generations."

"Probably adopted."

"Switched with another ginger baby at Saint Mungo's."

Rodmilla giggled, "I wouldn't mind having a bunch of boys. I mean, Weasley turned out alright."

The silence from the other two was both horrified and intrigued.

"He's not hard on the eyes, the Weasleys are an old family and I'm sure he's single."

I gnashed my teeth quietly and adjusted my grip on the box as we emerged out of the dark reach of the dementor's and into the too bright lights of the Ministry. It was quiet up here. The corridors were strangely empty, but I heard there was a big department meeting and it was one I was sure I knew the topic of.

I kept focused on the conversation in front of me.

"Not hard on the eyes? He's silly looking! Weirdly proportioned like a spider!"

Camilla chimed in next, "I always through he looked like a horse. Who would have him?"

He does not look like a horse!

Rodmilla shrugged, "We all need to do our part to repopulate the bloodlines of magic. If I could just get to the Minister's Office..."

"Good luck with that," Verity rolled her eyes, "He's run off three or four secretaries at this point. I doubt you'll do a much better job."

It was a moment composed of sheer frustration and anger, frustration that I could not make my commitment to Percy public socially, anger at the fact it was not possible now anyway and at the fact that twit was talking about him like some sort of – of – ugh! Stud Pegasus!

It would be an easy thing to fix. I could do something insane or I could do something quiet to make myself feel better.

"Oh," Rodmilla gasped as she looked at her box, "I forgot, I'm supposed to pick up some other reference papers for Umbridge that are already on the floor."

"What do you need to get?" I asked, breaking my monkish silence – much to the surprise of the other clerks. I was hiding my rage very well.

"Some law papers from the start of the century, she said there were some laws in there about inheritance and blood status she needed for a case, but I couldn't find them in any of the usual spots."

Camilla and Verity double checked their own papers – making sure they did not have to run any extra errand of their own.

"I'll catch up with you all later!"

I had seen a slightly open door down the corridor on our way down.

"We'll drop ours off and head over to our next assignment," Verity said with a quick smile at Rodmilla.

"Good luck with the tyrannical toad." Camilla added as the two waved and scampered off with

That filing room behind me is not used very often...

Yeah. Screw it.

I silently cast a sticking charm on the open door once Camilla and Verity turned their backs.

"Rodmilla," I heard there might some other reference papers in File Room 713. It might be worth trying."

"Perfect! Thank you so much!" She turned on her heels, practically losing her balance before righting herself and launching herself through the door like a fairy princess.

I gave the door a little nudge with a gust of gentle wind from my wand, letting it close on its own weight before walking down the corridor.

I would send someone down to find her later.

For the moment, I would revel in my fantasy of quitting the Ministry and burning it all down behind me as I left.

Really, it helped me sleep at night.

I was not sure that would work tonight.

Oo0Oo0

Author's Note: I think that mini-arc I was talking about begins here.

Let's roll!