Chapter Text
You woke to the sound of someone, or rather – something – knocking on your window. You yawned, trying to blink yourself awake. Your bedroom was cast in twilight. Even though it was already six o’clock in the morning the sun hadn’t risen yet, which didn’t mean that it was dark outside. Living in a city as big and bustling as London turned “in the dead of the night” into a relative term. The Muggles’ electricity and cars and skyscrapers meant that it was never completely dark, especially if you lived in the heart of the city. There was always something going on, whether that was an ambulance driving past your apartment or drunks singing songs in the street. While scrambling out of bed you were musing about how much easier life would be for Muggles if they had magic. But then again… with magic came a whole lot of other responsibilities and even in the Wizarding World, where you could die by making the wrong movements to a spell or confusing two potions ingredients could lead to growing an extra head, being an Auror was considered especially dangerous.
The knocking at your window intensified. Lazily, you pointed your wand at the hinges. The panes swung inwards, allowing a tiny ball of feathers to fly inside, only to drop on the floor a few seconds later. “Flint!”, you exclaimed and rushed forward, carefully scooping up the brown-white speckled Burrowing Owl. “Hey, you alright?”, you cooed while stroking the owl’s underbelly. Flint hooted softly and nibbled your finger while you were trying to untie the scroll of parchment paper attached to his right leg. “What does Sirius want this time, hmm?”, you asked the owl after setting it down on your bedside table. Flint immediately started hopping around, inspecting your small collection of rings and necklaces. “Now, don’t steal anything”, you gave him a stern look. “I will notice when something is missing.” This time the owl only gave you an indignant look before turning back to pick at your earrings. You shook your head while finishing to dress. “Just as cocky as your owner…” You decided on a sleek pair of black trousers, paired with a blouse and a blazer. You hated not being in the field and instead spending the entire day at the Ministry going over paperwork. It meant that you had to wear formal clothes as Fudge hated his Aurors looking 'dishevelled', meaning wearing anything other than a pinstripe suit or business clothes. If only he paid as much attention to what Voldemort was doing than what tie his subordinates were wearing.
When you were satisfied with your wardrobe you made your way into your kitchen, where, with a flick of your wand, the kettle started boiling. Pulling up a chair you sat down to read Sirius’ note while your tea was pouring itself into a cup that came floating to the kitchen table. You picked it out of the air to set it down. Knitting your eyebrows, you tried to decipher Sirius’s writing. No matter how often you told him, he never bothered to write so others could easily read his hand. A habit he had never been able to break.
Order meeting today, December 12.
Be there at 8 pm sharp
P.S. Don’t be late
P.P.S. Don’t wake my mother
P.P.P.S. Snivellus is going to be there so don’t you dare leaving me alone with him
“Anything else I can do for you, my Lord?”, you muttered to yourself and sighed. Fudge was working your team longer hours every day and you didn’t know whether you could find a reasonable excuse to leave your office before 8. And the prospect of having to be in the same room as Snape didn’t sound enticing either. You leaned back in your chair, rocking it backward and forward. If Snape was going to be there, Dumbledore would probably be there also, which meant that the meeting would be about something important. You pursed your lips, trying to recollect when there had last been an Order meeting that big. It had certainly been a while. Of course you often saw Kingsley, Tonks, and Arthur at the Ministry of Magic and Sirius and you often communicated via owl post but it would be nice to see Minvera and Molly again and meet up with the others in a less formal environment. Somewhere, where you didn't have to pretend to not know them. And maybe… You shook your head to dispel any thoughts that had to with him . You could worry about that later. There was a sudden clicking noise as Flint unexpectedly settled on your right shoulder. “Blimey”, you said, just catching yourself before you and the chair fell backward. “Don’t do that again!”, you scolded the owl that immediately started chirping away. “I suppose you’re waiting for an answer, huh?” You grabbed a piece of parchment and one of your feathers that need never dipped into an inkpot. Growing up believing yourself to be Muggle for 11 years, you had never seen the appeal of using feathers and ink when things like fountain pens existed. However, the majority of members of the Magical Community still looked down on any witch or wizard using Muggle artifacts. Working as a spy for the Order and being so close to Fudge had its advantages, but it also meant that you could never allow yourself to be less than a perfect witch, which unfortunately meant renouncing all things that had been invented by Muggles, however practical they were.
Flint made an impatient hooting noise. “I’m on it”, you murmured and began writing.
Sirius, your handwriting is as sloppy and illegible as ever, but I’ll try to make it to tonight’s meeting.
P.S. Your owl is very inquisitive. Tell him to stop picking at my stuff.
P.P.S. I’m actually looking forward to seeing you all again (Snape excluded).
“There you go”, you told Flint as you rolled up the paper. The Burrowing Owl hopped onto the table and stretched his left leg forward. Carefully, with the piece of string that had come with the message, you knotted your roll to the owl’s tiny leg. Flint started to patter around excitedly. “Off with you”, you said and opened the windows with a snap of your fingers. The owl took into the break of day that was announcing itself with an increasing level of noise as the sky started to turn from blue to lilac to red.
The window closed with a bang and your apartment was silent once more. You grimaced and turned around to turn on your wireless.
“-here at Wizarding Wireless Network. It’s beginning to look very festive and Christmas everywhere you go, isn’t that right, Bert? – Oh, you’re right, Almar. See, yesterday I was walking down Diagon Alley, buying gifts for the family, you know how it is… The kids always want the latest Firebolt model or a new pet-“
You contemplated just staying seated, show up for work a couple of hours late, only to see the look on Fudge’s face but you ultimately decided against it. If tonight was an Order meeting, Dumbledore and the others depended on you to be able to share the latest news and intelligence, and Fudge sure as hell wouldn’t talk to you all day if you decided to turn up late. With a grunt, you heaved yourself out of the chair and into a standing position and you suddenly wished you had gotten more sleep. “Scourgify”, you muttered while putting on your shoes. The used teacup was floating back to the sink that had filled itself with water. The cup jumped into the hot water, there was a bubbling noise and a few seconds later it came out looking as if it had never been used. You threw a glance towards your fireplace and the bag of floo powder hanging next to it, weighing in on whether you should directly apparate into the Atrium, use the Floo Network or the official entrance to the Ministry by flushing yourself down the toilets in Whitehall. You sneered at the thought of once again getting your shoes drenched. It didn’t matter how often you did it and that you would always turn up in the Atrium completely dry, it was disgusting. You decided to apparate as it was the fastest and easiest way but while you were putting on your cape – it gave your outfit that certain extra – you wistfully thought about how much more comfortable it would be to use the visitor’s entrance. The red phone box was charming and quaint and usually spared one the headache that was, unfortunately, a frequent companion when using the Floo Network.
You dipped your hand into the bag with the glittery powder, closed your eyes, tucked your elbows in (a few weeks ago there had been a nasty incident where you had forgotten to do so – Sirius would still bring it up now and then as he thought it incredibly funny) and threw the powder into the fire while saying “Ministry of Magic” as clearly as you could. The fire turned emerald green and rose up to engulf you completely. The next moment it felt like you were sucked down a drain. Spinning faster and faster, you just tried to keep your eyes shut until the spinning stopped. You opened your eyes and stepped out into the Atrium which was already busy with witches and wizards bustling to and fro. You ducked to escape a swarm of paper birds, fluttering dangerously low over the heads of a group of goblins that angrily raised their fist at the paper animals. You tried to make haste, crossing the wide hall, past the Fountain of Brethren, walking towards the set of double golden gates behind which lay the twenty or so access lifts. “Going up?”, you asked the attendant who was managing one of the lifts to the right side of the gate. He nodded. “Great”, you said and stepped inside. The lift was otherwise empty, something you heartily appreciated as you found the lifts to be too small in general for the masses of witches and wizards using them on a daily basis. With a jolt, the lift started moving to the right, accelerating at an incredible speed. “Level 2, please”, you added, worried that you would end up on Level 10 or higher. The lift jerked to a halt and the wrought golden grilles opened to welcome you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You stepped out of the lift in stride, enjoying the swishing sound your cape made. Yes, sometimes you wished your life was easier and you occasionally caught yourself thinking how less stressful it would be, had you been born a Muggle, but being a witch… having attended Hogwarts… those were some of the best things that ever happened to you and you would not want to exchange them and the memories of it for anything else.
Around the corner from the access lift and past a set of heavy doors lay the Auror Office with its two dozen cubicles, one for each Auror. It was cluttered, buzzing with talk, even though it was merely 8 in the morning. “Morning everyone”, you greeted the witches and wizards. You smiled at their cheery greetings as you sat down in your chair. You took off your coat and let it fly to the coat hanger that was standing in the corner of the room. As you got settled you threw a glance to the room’s window panel. Surprisingly, the endless rain of the last few weeks had stopped because today, soft snowflakes were dancing past the frosted glass. You smiled. “Magical Maintenance Department finally got something right, huh?”, said a male voice to your right. Williamson was leaning back in his chair so he could see past the wall that was separating your two cubicles. “Yeah”, you said amused. "Looks like they finally came to their senses.” You got your wand out of your pocket to lay it on the table. “So…”, the Auror began again. “Any plans for Christmas? Anything exciting coming up?” The smile fell from your face and while Williamson was beginning to relate to you the holiday plans of every one of his family members, you pretended to busy yourself with straightening the cut-out newspaper articles clipped to your booth’s wall. This year you had tried to put off thinking about Christmas for as long as possible and while you had been too busy thinking about the Order meeting to listen to what the radio presenters had been chatting about this morning, there was no escaping thinking about Christmas now. “I was- uh, thinking about working through the holidays”, you added when Williamson had paused his ramble, seemingly expecting you to contribute something. “Of course you would”, he said and smiled apologetically. “What does that mean?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh, nothing”, he hurried to say. “It’s just that as one of Fudge’s most-trusted Aurors… It’s probably hard not to work, right?” He winked. “Yeah, right”, you muttered and turned back to your desk. You naturally couldn’t tell him that the only reason you were working extra-hours all the time, that you were always one of the last to leave and the first to arrive, was that you were a double-agent for the Ministry’s no. 1 enemy, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore himself. You couldn’t tell him that you had felt exhausted and drained out for weeks now – with Order meetings often taking place on weekdays; meetings that could go on for hours on end which often resulted in you getting only three to four hours’ worth of sleep before you had to get up, go to the Ministry and play obedient Auror to Fudge. If you stopped and rested for too long you would feel the weariness in your bones, seeping through every pore. So the only way forward was through.
“Hey, Williamson”, you turned to him once more. “How do I look?” The wizard tilted his head. “I mean”, you began impatiently, “do I look normal? Or tired?” You could feel the man hesitating. “It’s alright, you can say it. I won’t hex you if you say something unpleasant.” Williamson chuckled though he seemed a little nervous. “Well, to be honest… You look like hell.” “Thanks”, you murmured. “Are you getting enough sleep? There is this new potion I have been trying out. Puts you right to sleep and works wonders. They ran an ad for it in the Prophet . The missus even complains…” “-no, thank you, I’m fine”, you managed to smile before turning back to your own cubicle, burrowing your head in this morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet without paying heed to the articles or moving pictures. There would be nothing of interest in there anyway, just the usual slander about Dumbledore and Harry Potter. While listlessly flicking through the pages, you were musing about what Williamson had said. If even he had noticed it, maybe it was time to take a few days off. You imagined yourself sitting alone in your apartment on Christmas Day, listening to the wireless while eating pizza. You shook your head. Better come to work, maybe get some extra training hours in. Anything was better than spending Christmas alone.