Chapter Text
The flight was favourable if you turned a blind eye to the slight turbulence they'd been in for a few minutes. It was Naruko's third time travelling by plane, and given his very young age, this could easily be regarded as atypical: It wasn't often that one met a pureblood wizard who didn't neglect Muggle ways of travelling in space, even encouraging them.
In fact, those in charge of Auror training had offered him the 'usual' option for them — to get to his destination using a Portkey that could take him from one country to another. Such a treat was not cheap and required a special authorisation document, just as Muggles had visas, but the academy was also obliged to pay for any other method the student chose, even if it was Muggle transport. Naruko could still remember how the secretary had squinted at him while he was doing the necessary paperwork and calculating the amount of money that, when converted to Muggle currency, would give the right amount of money to buy the plane tickets. The academy worker seemed to be afraid of the huge iron birds, while Naruko found himself marvelling at the sensation of flying them.
Naturally, he didn't deny himself a little fun, taking advantage of opportunities he had every right to take advantage of. In his opinion, it was a small compensation for the three years of Auror training, which was more challenging than he'd ever expected. His brain was still seething from the last of his credit papers in April, and he waited for the start of his internship like a man stranded in a hot desert waiting for a sip of life-saving water. He longed for this moment, when he would finally be allowed to truly act, not memorise endless laws and textbook chapters, combining it with written assignments and diluting it with occasional practice of useful spells. Much of what students had to do in their studies was a terrible bore for Naruko, but a necessary bore because without written and oral credits it was simply impossible to get to the internships that would bring him closer to the final exams. Now he felt almost like a hero who had managed to survive the harsh conditions, and also very lucky because Romania was so conveniently included in the list of places where students could complete their internship.
When the plane that had landed at the capital's airport finally came to a stop and the announcement in two different languages of a successful landing rolled through the cabin, Naruko was already impatient. He tucked the Muggle magazine, which was mostly advertising current global brands and killing his boredom in the last few minutes of the flight, into a small bag and waited for the woman sitting next to him to rise from her seat to follow the rest of the passengers towards the exit.
His handler, alerted to the student's arrival, was supposed to be waiting at the airport. Naruko still hadn't remembered his unusual name, but he wasn't worried about having trouble finding him: He was sure he would recognise a wizard among the Muggles, especially in a place as Muggle as the airport. Next he would be shown temporary accommodation, and then surely he would be given his first cool internship assignment, and finally something truly resembling his future job would begin.
With these encouraging thoughts Naruko left the cabin of the plane. The street greeted him with hot sunny weather, causing him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and undo a couple of the top buttons. It was still early May, but he had prepared himself as he packed his things, choosing more light clothing. It was waiting for him in his suitcase, to be retrieved on a special moving belt after some waiting, and until then he expected to meet his handler.
In the large and crowded airport building, Naruko was still a little confused. He had been here in his sixth year of school, when he had come to the dragon sanctuary for the winter holidays, but his parents had been with him then, and his father and mother had taken care of all the difficult moments while Naruko, his sister and younger brothers had only to listen to and follow their parents. Now everything had to be done on his own, alone, and Naruko had almost forgotten when he boarded the flight that he had to check in and get his boarding pass before he did so. Should he have thought of some sort of plan in case he didn't meet his handler for some reason?
He squinted at the greeters who were waiting for their family and friends, but it seemed to be only Muggles among them. Naruko didn't see anyone who stood out in any way and gave off the appearance of a wizard. Maybe his handler was a muggle-born or half-blood, perfectly adept at blending in with the crowd of ordinary people who didn't have magic?
This thought seemed perfectly reasonable, but Naruko was about to be disabused of it to the point of groaning because the man who had come to meet him would have been easily distinguishable from anyone else, too. Thanks to his size, of course.
Naruko managed to spot him first. The man was walking straight here, looking around so obviously that there was no doubt that he was looking for someone in particular. Whether or not he was here for him, Naruko somehow had no doubt either, which caused him to try to duck, literally hiding behind the back of another passing Muggle, though it didn't save him, unfortunately.
Things got much worse when a loud and almost laughing voice reached him, “Hey, red bean, I see you, come to me!”
The familiar intonation made Naruko shiver and straighten up, pretending that he wasn't the one who'd been trying to escape just a second ago.
Damn! And what the hell was that old man doing here anyway?
Beginning to lose track of what was going on, Naruko still forced himself to walk over to him and faced the harsh reality that in all the long time they hadn't seen each other, catching up with the at least partially imposing stature of the giant big guy hadn't worked out for him one bit. Moreover, Jin Tadokoro seemed even bigger, which made Naruko get a dull and unpleasant feeling inside, as if he himself was still the ridiculous child he had been when they had first met at Hogwarts.
“There you are! I see you haven't changed a bit!” Tadokoro said with a broad smile, the words only reinforcing the unwanted feelings that Naruko wanted to get rid of as soon as possible.
“Hi,” he said idiotically, trying to smile crookedly and then snapping at the same moment, “What the hell are you doing here???”
“What kind of reaction is that?” Tadokoro laughed the exact same laugh he had given Naruko in that very distant moment when he had first heard of his desire to play a Beater on the Quidditch team. Naruko didn't see it, but he was sure that his own face had creased in an eerie grimace. “I'm here to meet you, of course!”
“Why the fuck?” Naruko shrieked even harder. “I'm here for my internship, I was supposed to be met by my handler— what's-his-name—” He frantically began rummaging through his bag to find the parchment on which the required name was written, but Tadokoro prompted before the search was successful.
“Ah, Laurentiu? This is my colleague and mate. He told me he was getting an apprentice for a month, and try to imagine my surprise when I saw your name on the paperwork!” Tadokoro said and laughed again, causing Naruko to freeze and be speechless for a few seconds.
“Wh— Wha— What?” he gasped, raising a disbelieving look. “C-colleague? Don't tell me— You're an Auror?”
Tadokoro blinked before he could answer, and Naruko raised his hand so sharply that he nearly jabbed his index finger in his face.
“What the hell?” he practically yelled as he continued. “You didn't write anything about going to study to be an Auror! Why didn't I know anything about it? You've been lying to me this whole time!”
“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Tadokoro asked, pressing his palm on Naruko's wrist to lower his hand. “I'll apologise for that if you want me to. I didn't tell you because—” He faltered, as if shamefully averting his gaze, which combined with his appearance looked comical, though Naruko was not in the mood for laughing right now. “Overall, I wasn't entirely sure I'd be able to graduate. Studying was hard, so I didn't tell you about it. I'd die of shame if you knew that I entered the academy and got kicked out.”
“Huh!” Naruko exclaimed mockingly, folding his arms across his chest.
It was even kind of funny. They had corresponded occasionally after Tadokoro had finished his seventh year of school and graduated. It was now clear to Naruko why he said almost nothing about himself in his letters, only asking about how the Quidditch matches were going. After Naruko had become a seventh year student and then started Auror training himself, their correspondence had been cut short — he had little free time, and he had never thought that he might run into his old schoolmate in the future in the same area that had nothing to do with Quidditch.
“I see, you're pathetic,” Naruko said with a wry smirk and received an indignant, stern look.
“Don't call me pathetic!”
“Where's your mate in that case?” Naruko asked, ignoring the order, and looked around defiantly at the rushing Muggles scurrying past them.
“He's not here because I'll be evaluating you,” Tadokoro replied, sounding quite serious, and Naruko forgot how to speak for the second time that day. “I said I knew you, so we sent a Patronus to the academy with a proposal to redo the paperwork. I received a confirmation owl this morning. What's more, Laurentiu doesn't speak English very well.”
“Merlin, save me,” Naruko breathed out, clutching at his heart, and then dodged a blow to the head.
“Don't play games, you little one!” Tadokoro shouted, seeming even a little angry. “I made it easy for you, and you should thank me for it.”
“Okay, okay,” Naruko laughed and raised his palms in a conciliatory gesture. Honestly, he didn't know how to feel about the situation that had changed so suddenly. Perhaps it would be better for him to have someone he had known for a long time as his handler, but on the other hand, he also didn't want to screw up in any way in front of Tadokoro. He remembered all too well how embarrassing it was when something like that happened at school, at their training sessions, or during matches. “I guess I have no choice,” Naruko said and then realised, “Oh shit, I have to get my luggage.”
He looked around again and rushed to the belt, which was lazily crawling with all sorts of bags, half of which were wrapped in a strange transparent film. Tadokoro followed silently behind him and stopped beside him while Naruko, impatiently on his toes, tried to catch a glimpse of his suitcase.
“I'm almost not even surprised you decided to come here by plane,” Tadokoro said, reminding himself again. “It's a lot longer than using the Portkey, but you seem to really like it.”
“Yeah,” Naruko said, already noticing the target. “I told you about my first trip here. Flying by plane is super cool!”
He picked up his suitcase, grabbing it by the handle and pulling it off the belt, and looked at Tadokoro with an interested look. He hadn't asked him something else very important, after all...
“Listen. Why are you here? I mean, no... I mean, why are you in Romania? Did you come for work? Although then you wouldn't have wasted your time on me—”
“Of course not,” Tadokoro snorted, rubbing his finger under his nose as if embarrassed again. “I moved here a while ago. I met a girl, and now we're together.”
“What?” Naruko was stunned again.
“Through correspondence,” Tadokoro explained reluctantly. “We found each other by chance and chatted online.”
The reminder that Tadokoro had been able to use all the Muggle inventions like the internet since he was a child because one of his parents was a Muggle sent a slight pang of envy through him, and Naruko pursed his lips, feeling completely out of touch with the times. But once that feeling had passed for a bit, another realisation burst into his head.
“I don't fucking believe in coincidences like that!” he replied almost angrily, to which Tadokoro frowned as well.
“That concerns you too. Why the hell did you come here? Couldn't you get an internship in UK?”
Naruko was about to object but slowed down, remembering that he had a good reason to be here. He had thought of everything. This country was hosting the Quidditch World Championships this year. The group phase was over, and one of the matches was going to take place at the end of May, just when his internship would be nearing completion. He was counting on having a couple of days off before returning to UK. He was going to use that weekend to go to the game because, well... he'd told Hotshot about the internship time and the possibility of choosing Romania to go through, mentioning, just as a frivolous dream, how cool it would be to get to the Championship, and he'd just calmly bought two tickets.
The thoughts made his cheeks feel hot. Naruko really hoped he wasn't blushing, because he was embarrassed for several reasons at once. He remembered writing an emotional letter to Imaizumi, assuring him that there was no way in hell he would accept a Championship ticket from him because of the frightening price, but Imaizumi had made an even trickier move than his previous one, only replying that he would still come to the game and throw the ticket in the trash if Naruko refused it. It was a damn shame, and in a way Naruko already realised that he had given up. He had dreamed of going to the World Cup at least once since he was a kid, and his contrived pride wasn't worth missing the opportunity now, though he still felt like an idiot when he wrote that he was going to take the internship in Romania for the sole reason that he liked it here on his first trip. Imaizumi must have had that stupid smug look on his face when he got the letter.
“Well— anyway—” Naruko drawled, looking down at the floor and not knowing how to admit it. “I'm going to Quidditch!” he said sharply at last. Really, it wasn't something to be afraid to talk about, was it?
Tadokoro hummed loudly in response.
“Going to make the best of it, then. You're not earning your own money yet, are you? Where did you get the money for the ticket? Or did someone give it to you?”
“That's none of your business!” Naruko said indignantly, still blushing.
“I'll go too,” Tadokoro smirked. “But for the finals, at the end of the summer.”
“Okay, go there!” Naruko snorted, turning away defiantly. “I'm happy for you.”
“Yeah,” Tadokoro responded and clapped him on the shoulder so unexpectedly that Naruko almost jumped on the spot. “And now that you've got your suitcase, it's time to get going. I'm parked nearby, so come on, I'll take you home.”
“We'll… go—” Naruko was confused, stepping behind Tadokoro, and he turned his head to smirk again.
“By car.”
“Oh, cool,” Naruko said and tried to hide the admiration in his voice. “Okay, stop. Why did you say you were taking me home? You don't mean—”
“That's what I meant,” Tadokoro replied, heading through the crowd of Muggles towards the exit of the building. “You can get a room anywhere, of course, but we have a couple of spare ones at home, and I'll give you a discount. Don't want to save any money, do you?”
“Tch,” Naruko said through gritted teeth, but he didn't dare object. He could use the extra money, and he seemed willing to agree. What did it matter where he lived?
He decided to remain silent, and they didn't speak again until they reached the car. Only in the car park did Tadokoro exchange a couple of stock phrases with him as he placed his suitcase in the back of the car, after which Naruko found he had other questions. He started with the most pertinent one.
“We could've Apparated,” he remarked as Tadokoro slammed the door and walked to the driver's seat.
“We could've. But I thought you should see the city, and I also remembered that you're crazy about Muggle transport.”
Naruko only pressed his lips together at those words, feeling like he'd been compared to a child, and then settled into the passenger seat as Tadokoro opened the door for him from the inside. He showed him how to fasten the seatbelt, and Naruko twitched it curiously, trying to figure out how the intricate ribbon worked.
“It's a long drive,” Tadokoro explained and jingled the keys in the keyhole, the purpose of which had eluded Naruko at first and surprised him a little later when he realised that it was a way of making the car work. He had yet to ride in one, and once again he felt ridiculously delighted at the imagination and ingenuity of Muggles. “Just relax and rest.”
“Okay,” Naruko agreed as the car shifted smoothly. “Can I ask you anything else?”
“Yes,” Tadokoro replied calmly, turning the steering wheel and keeping his eyes on the road.
“It's about your girlfriend. Don't you live with her?”
“She's not home right now if that's what you mean. She works as a journalist, so she's sometimes on long journeys for work. Maybe you'll see her in a couple of weeks if you want to meet her.”
“Hmm,” Naruko said, trying to hide his snicker. “She's a Muggle, am I right?”
“Guess right,” Tadokoro confirmed, and then Naruko lost his smirk.
“A Muggle, and she works as a journalist. I wonder how quickly their press will find out they live among wizards when she reaches into your pocket and realises she's touched something other than the most important part of your body...”
“Are you wary of Muggles, Shoukichi?” Tadokoro asked with a slight smile in his voice.
“I've been studying the Statute of Secrecy for three years,” Naruko snorted, folding his arms across his chest again. “And the teachers were always trying to hammer into our heads what the consequences of revealing the wizarding world might be. I didn't realise how dangerous it could be before.”
“I know the Statute of Secrecy, too,” Tadokoro replied. “Wizards were once forbidden to have intimate relations with Muggles — anything to keep the secret, but time's not standing still. Besides, wizard blood needs to be renewed, or we'll just disappear.”
“That doesn't answer my question,” Naruko said glumly.
“I know,” Takdoroko nodded, keeping his eyes on the road they were now travelling along with the other cars. “My mother used to explain to me the intricacies of such situations. If I didn't mention it, she got engaged to a Muggle and then they had a child — me.”
“I know one of your parents is a Muggle,” Naruko responded quietly.
“If we get married, I can tell her everything. Explain,” Tadokoro added.
“You bet,” Naruko snorted again. “I'd like to see her surprised when she finds out that her child burned the curtains without matches or turned her favourite teapot into a squirrel.”
“It is because of children that everything remains secret,” Tadokoro responded. “Any mother or father will realise the seriousness of the secret because they want to protect their child.”
“That makes sense,” Naruko agreed reluctantly.
“But you wouldn't risk it yourself, would you?” Tadokoro asked, for some reason developing this theme further.
“I don't care,” Naruko shrugged. “I'm not the one in love with a Muggle girl.”
“It's convenient when you like someone who is already familiar with and part of the wizarding world. You have that someone, don't you? Or are you still innocent?”
The last question was spoken with an unconcealed chuckle and an obvious sneer. It infuriated Naruko, and he barked back almost rudely, “I'm not going to discuss my personal life with you!”
“It was a joke”’ Tadokoro responded, still smiling. “I can see that you're still so easily provoked. But you're going to be an Auror. That's not acceptable in our line of work, you know?”
“What?” Naruko gasped, and Tadokoro gave him a brief glance.
“You have to be more restrained, more judicious. Don't jump into things at the first opportunity. You've been waiting for the internship, going crazy. The first thing an energetic bloke like you needs to learn is patience.”
“I'm not—” Naruko tried to object, but the words stuck in his throat.
“This is one of the most serious jobs,” Tadokoro continued. “The only thing more serious is working in a dragon sanctuary. One false step and you're a pile of ash. But even Aurors often find themselves in dangerous situations. That's why you have to know how to behave properly. You have to build up your character if you're so indomitable.”
“We're just talking!” Naruko was still indignant, almost resentful. “If there was any real danger—”
“You'd do the same thing,” Tadokoro responded, forcing him to bite his tongue again. “I know you well, bean. That's why I'm worried about you. That's why I volunteered to be your handler. You've chosen the most inappropriate profession for you.”
“Why the fuck are you telling me this now?” Naruko hissed, assuming a defensive posture again. “You don't even know what I'm good at, what I've learnt.”
“Cool spells like Patronus?” Tadokoro replied calmly. “But that's not what I'm trying to explain to you. No matter what spells you know or how good you are in wizarding duels, you must realise that sometimes the duel itself is better avoided. But with your spunky and flamboyant temperament, that's very difficult. You can make a lot of mistakes with it, and you'll be lucky if one of those mistakes isn't your last. The job of an Auror is a very risky job indeed at times, but I understand that the idea of risk can get you hot. The idea of doing something that will make others admire you.”
“No,” Naruko replied quietly, and his tone seemed to make Tadokoro pause. “Still… you don't know everything about me,” Naruko added and pressed his lips together tightly.
It might have been fair before. Risk and the urge to stand out had fuelled him in Quidditch, but he wanted to become an Auror for a different reason. Learning to protect his loved ones had become his primary motivation, which he tried to remake and rethink again and again...
“I'm trying, okay?” Naruko said, interrupting their silence. “The teachers told us a lot about what we should think about. I know I have to put aside a lot of things that are important to me if I want to be a good Auror.”
“I'm glad you're not letting that pass you by,” Tadokoro replied. “Still. How are you doing with the Patronus?”
“Pfft,” Naruko rolled his eyes. “I learnt that magic in my last year of school. My Patronus is a tiger, in case you were wondering.”
“Not bad,” Tadokoro praised. “But in school... Who taught you that? I can't believe you did it on your own.”
“I was taught by Professor of DADA,” Naruko replied. “He was an Auror too.”
“I think I know who you're talking about. It was a big story at the time, and he was the Head of the British Auror Office. He changed positions just after the terrorist attack that took place in Diagon Alley at the time. I had just finished the Auror training, and the boys and I often discussed the incident.”
“In that attack…” Naruko said quietly, looking down, “my brother was injured. He was in St Mungo's for a month after a misplaced spell. I didn't write you anything about it, and then our correspondence broke off. I just, somehow, I couldn't—”
“I understand,” Tadokoro said quietly, and then added, “You're very brave, bean.”
Naruko decided not to answer anything, and he could have easily wallowed in unpleasant thoughts, but he didn't have time. Tadokoro didn't let his bad mood get stronger — he asked other questions regarding his studies, telling him something from his training time. They found out that both of them had the worst time cramming for the laws and the subject that covered the basics of medical magic. By the end of the trip, Naruko was even able to laugh heartily after hearing the story of how Tadokoro, in his own internship, had to rescue an old wizard from a Fanged Geranium that he himself had grown.
Thanks to this, the road flew by unnoticed, and Naruko could barely get a proper look at the streets they were passing through. It turned out that Tadokoro lived in a small town south of Bucharest. Here he had a small private house in a pleasant neighbourhood, and after leaving the car Naruko could again feel the unfamiliar atmosphere of a foreign country, which for some reason caused a slight longing for England.
“It took us a long time to get here,” he remarked, glancing up at the darkening sky.
It was cool in the car, but here, outside, Naruko was facing the heat again, and he grimaced, wishing he could pull off the uncomfortable shirt and replace it with a roomy cotton T-shirt.
“I think I'll start by showing you the Ministry tomorrow,” Tadokoro said, pulling the suitcase out of the car. “We'll look at the requests and decide what we can assign you.”
“Yeah,” Naruko said without much enthusiasm.
Tadokoro carried his suitcase into the house without asking, then headed down the small corridor to the right to the last door. That would be his room there, Naruko realised, following behind. It, expectedly, turned out to be small as well but quite cosy. In addition to a single bed, desk and wardrobe, there was a low dresser with a television placed on top of it, and Naruko was openly delighted when he realised that he would be able to watch it whenever he wanted.
“The bathroom and toilet are at the other end of the corridor, and you don't have to go up to the first floor — it's empty,” Tadokoro said, setting Naruko's suitcase against the wall.
“Mm-hmm. I wouldn't mind taking a shower,” Naruko replied, still not taking his eyes off the black TV screen that interested him so much.
“Go to the bathroom in that case, and then to the kitchen,” Tadokoro nodded, placing his hands on his hips. “I'll see what I can feed you.”
“No giant portions,” Naruko grinned and opened his suitcase to pull out a towel and lighter clothes than a shirt and trousers.
Tadokoro only snorted ambiguously at his request, then left — Naruko spotted him in the kitchen a little later, rattling the dishes.
Not looking around the place was too overwhelming a task. Naruko looked for anything magical or indicating the presence of magic, but the house was completely ordinary, which could only lead to one conclusion: Tadokoro really hadn't told his girlfriend anything yet. How did he himself even manage to live here without using magic at all? Did he never forget himself, never accidentally pull out his wand, or did he just not carry it with him?
In the bathroom, Naruko tried not to linger. He was really hungry, so he hastily showered, changed, and with a wet towel made his way to the kitchen, where there was a large dining table, already laden with various appetising foods. Tadokoro's presence amidst this abundance of goodies, wearing a silly apron over a T-shirt and trousers, reminded him of his parents' home, and Naruko hung the towel on the back of the nearest chair and sat down at the table with a grateful feeling.
For the next hour they ate a dense meal, constantly interrupted by conversation, and then Tadokoro managed to pique his interest once more when he pulled two bottles of real Muggle beer from a large white cabinet that cooled the food thanks to electricity. It didn't compare to the wizards' Butterbeer, it wasn't sweet at all, more like bitter and tart, but Naruko liked it a lot.
“You're probably surprised that there's nothing magical in the house at all,” Tadokoro grinned, taking a final sip.
“It would be hard not to be surprised,” Naruko shrugged. “You're a good conspirator.”
“I bet you'll be even more surprised when you see my office. It's my best job at casting hiding charms,” Tadokoro said with pride in his voice.
“Yeah? Wanna see it,” Naruko said, interested, pushing his finished bottle aside.
Tadokoro grinned even wider, rising from his chair and gesturing for him to follow. Naruko, feeling his curiosity growing, hurried after him, and Tadokoro led him to a door that was opposite the hallway. He turned the round knob, opening it, and flicked a switch on the wall, causing the electric bulbs in the ceiling to fill the room with light.
Naruko caught himself thinking that he had foolishly expected to immediately see something out of the ordinary here, objects flying on their own or something, but the office was ordinary too, which would have caused a sense of disappointment if it weren't for the computer on the desk that Naruko wanted to study from every angle.
“Now look,” Tadokoro said, turning off the light and closing the door back.
Naruko blinked, not sure what to look at, but it became clearer later when Tadokoro turned the knob again, but this time more than once. He turned it three times before opening the door to the room, the light in which turned on by itself.
It changed immediately, as if they had entered a completely different place in an instant. Naruko stepped inside and exhaled in admiration because what he saw was definitely not the parameters of an 'ordinary' Muggle room.
This was a real wizard's office. There were enchanted glass spheres flying from the ceiling, candles burning in them, parchments and old books on the desk. A quill that wrote something among the scrolls of its own volition, perhaps copying some report. Someone's shoes stood in the corner, tap-dancing relentlessly, and Naruko's pleasantly familiar things were piled on the dresser, like a box of Wizard's Chess or a magic radio tuned to the frequencies on which he listened to Quidditch matches at school and during Auror trainig. There was a moving figurine in the shape of a girl with a racing broom next to it, and on the opposite wall hung a rather large poster of the England national team. The poster was also enchanted, of course, because the guys were moving, winking, smiling and waving their arms in greeting. Naruko appreciated it because he too was rooting for the England team and really wanted to see them play in the World Cup, even though there would still be other teams playing in May.
“Immobulus,” Tadokoro ordered, taking out his wand and pointing it at the dancing shoes. They stopped, dropping ridiculously. “I can't figure out how to remove the magic from them, it's the same thing every time,” Tadokoro said glumly and walked over to the couch.
“By the way,” Naruko looked up at him. “What did you tell your girl about the job? You didn't give her the secret about the wizarding world, I take it?”
“She thinks I work in the city administration of Bucharest,” Tadokoro replied, taking a seat. “I go there by car, but tomorrow we'll use Apparition to go to the Ministry afterwards.”
“Lying to your girlfriend,” Naruko whistled. “Are you sure she'll forgive you later?”
“I'm sure,” Tadokoro smiled. “We've been together for more than a year, so I know the kind of person I'm going to tie my life to.”
“Lucky her in a way,” Naruko responded, turning around to look at the box of Wizard's Chess again. “Sooner or later she, a Muggle, would learn about the other, wonderful side of the world.”
“Yep,” Tadokoro agreed. “Here, look.”
Naruko turned back and saw a small item held out to him. He stepped closer and smiled weakly. From the rectangular screen, a pretty girl and Tadokoro himself were looking at him as he put his arm around her shoulder. Onoda had a very similar smartphone, Naruko remembered the name of the item and covered a yawn with the palm of his hand and said, “You two look good.”
“Thank you,” Tadokoro replied, lowering his hand. “Go to bed if you're tired, we have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I guess so,” Naruko agreed. “Are you coming too?”
“No. I'm going to work here. I have a report to give to my bosses tomorrow, and then we'll do your internship.”
“Okay.”
Naruko reached the door and grabbed the handle to go to his temporary room but stopped and turned again, looking at Tadokoro, who was now staring at the screen of his smartphone and swiping at it with his thumb.
“By the way,” Naruko said. “I don't mind at all that you've become my handler. I kept wondering when I'd get a chance to see you, and you found it before I did. It was nice to meet you.”
Tadokoro grinned back, “I thought you hadn't changed at all, but you've got more brains.”
“I'll surprise you in more ways than one,” Naruko smiled predatorily and walked out the door, feeling the hot wave inside him that he was carefully trying to hide.
No, he still wasn't smart enough to speak openly about his feelings without shame to people like Tadokoro, with whom he had once foolishly competed...
✨✨✨⭐️🌕⭐️✨✨✨
In truth, Naruko couldn't boast that his internship was going as well as he'd expected — it hadn't even partially met his expectations, for that matter.
The day after his arrival, as promised, Tadokoro took him to the Romanian Ministry of Magic, which, in addition to the Floo Network, had a thoroughly unpleasant and stupid entrance option located in the capital. It was hard to rate which was worse: flushing yourself down the toilet or jumping into a huge, stinking garbage container in the middle of the city. They both had to apply Cleaning Charm to their clothes before they could go to the security and register a visitor.
The Romanian Ministry differed from the British Ministry primarily in its size and layout. During their second year of training, the students had been given a sort of tour of the British Ministry, and Naruko remembered the impressions he'd received when he'd been in an enchanted hall with a lot of fireplaces, or when he'd walked down the long corridors of the different levels that the magical lifts took him to. Here it was a little more boring and not so fancy. There were different levels, of course, but you had to get to them on trolleys, almost like in Gringotts Bank. The halls were modest, and the Auror Office, as it turned out, had been reduced in staff numbers for lack of funds to pay everyone's salaries.
The most frustrating part was the internship assignments themselves. During the first week of his stay in Romania, Naruko had been doing a lot of nonsense, in his opinion, when he visited elderly wizards and helped to clean their old houses from doxy and other small pests that could settle in dusty closets or among mouldy folds of curtains.
Some houses were so neglected that you might even come across a boggart in the next wardrobe. Naruko was great at dealing with them, but what they turned into in front of him left a nasty residue on his soul every time, which made him come home in a horribly depressed mood, and then lie in bed for a long time staring at the ceiling, thinking, thinking, thinking.
He could not get it out of his mind. Images of memories would pop into his mind: one boggart would become a tall, thin man with dark eyes and a frightening smile, the other would turn out to be the twisted, breathless body of a thirteen-year-old boy. Naruko closed his eyes and uttered a harsh 'Riddikulus!' while raising his wand forward.
He lay on the bed and repeated to himself the words of one of the teachers from the Auror training.
“You must clearly recognise why you are here. You have to know what drives you, and if it's something personal, if you think you can just become heroes in other people's eyes, then you don't belong here.”
“A good Auror thinks of himself last. He serves for the good of the community. He becomes the shield of the common people and always knows what to do. He always knows when to sacrifice.”
During his first year of training, Naruko had hated those words. He had been convinced that his first priority was to become strong, to gain the ability to protect his loved ones, and it wasn't until his second year that it slowly began to dawn on him that there was really no point in studying to be an Auror if he was only going to benefit himself. He had thought... that this way he would calm himself down. He thought it would make him feel better about the mistake that had almost been fatal, but it was more complicated than that because it was almost physically painful to imagine the situation repeating itself, albeit with a different outcome.
I don't want to save you — I want you out of danger from the start.
It took too long to realise the simple truth, but Naruko was glad in a way that he wasn't too late. He really could have dropped out, he could have tried to do something else, but he stayed. He had to start thinking more broadly. His goal, the goal of all students, was to grow up, to become a man who yearned to make a difference in the world, to rid it of the threats that actually existed. Everything personal was to remain outside of that aspiration.
For a period of time Naruko even began to think that he had succeeded, that he had managed to relate to the work of an Auror in a neutral way, but the boggarts showed otherwise, made him think again. It was as if they were whispering mockingly:
You're still not out of that swamp, are you?
And Naruko was beginning to doubt. What was he still missing? What did he need to do to finally get over the hurdle and move on? Right now, he was almost despairing of ever finding an answer to that question.
When the weekend came, his next assignment was suddenly cancelled. He was supposed to go to some old lady whose enchanted sugar bowl had gone mad, but the witch was probably able to handle the problem herself, and Naruko realised that he had a whole completely free day. He didn't know what he could occupy himself with then. Of course, he could stay in his room all day in front of the TV, watching so many interesting things, albeit in a language he barely understood, but that wasn't an option he was excited about at the moment. Really, he hadn't come here to watch TV. He wanted at least one normal assignment. Something really interesting. Was it really that impossible?
Tadokoro was in his office that day. Naruko assumed he was resting, but that assumption was immediately abandoned when he turned the doorknob three times and entered the office.
Tadokoro at his desk was buried, almost literally, among parchments and decrepit folders. He looked glum and terribly busy, which made Naruko feel a second of embarrassment at having interrupted him.
“I don't have any assignments for today,” Naruko said, hiding his hands behind his back and trying to look as innocent as possible so that he wouldn't accidentally get a reprimand for his insolent intrusion.
Tadokoro looked up at him hard and immediately dropped his eyes back to the parchments in front of him.
“I think you can rest for a couple of days. I'm very busy at the moment and can't go through the new requests.”
Naruko suppressed a resigned groan and fell onto the sofa, in front of which, on the coffee table was a used tea set that had been in need of cleaning for two days already. Tadokoro had so much work to do... He was doing serious stuff, something Naruko was even envious of now that he was literally left idle.
“Couldn't you find me a more challenging assignment later?” he asked cautiously, still wary of being a victim of Tadokoro's anger.
“No,” was the dry answer, and Naruko couldn't contain his outburst of indignation.
“Why not? I'm sick of dealing with doxies and boggarts! A child can handle them if you give him a wand! Our teacher, when he sent us on our internship, said that we should take something useful out of it, realise our own path to follow. What good will I get out of it by continuing to rid the barns of these wretched creatures?”
“Didn't I tell you before that you should learn patience?” Tadokoro reminded, rustling papers. Naruko bit his tongue, though not for long.
“I have to learn it for the rest of the month? I'm supposed to just become patient and work like this for the rest of my life?”
“You're still a rookie,” Tadokoro replied almost tiredly, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “You think you're going to get a job at the Ministry after the training, and they're going to assign you complicated missions right away? Of course not. You'll be lucky if they don't make you spend your first year just sorting reports.”
Naruko practically gritted his teeth at the injustice.
“I can do more than you think — I'm ready to prove it.”
“I said no,” Tadokoro repeated, remaining impregnable. “Look, I'm making enquiries now about the man who put Imperius on the rarity shop owner. We believe he had an accomplice, and we need to find him.”
He was about to get back to work when there was a muffled knock on the window. Naruko straightened up on the couch, wondering if it was mail.
Indeed. Seconds later, Tadokoro let a brown imposing-looking owl into the office. It brought a thick, large envelope of some kind, and Tadokoro sank back into his chair with a frown, beginning to open the paper.
“Feed the owl, would you?” he asked. “The package is in the top drawer.”
Naruko shrugged his shoulders. He wondered what kind of letter Tadokoro had received, but he tried to suppress his curiosity and went to get some food to feed the owl.
As it ate before flying away, Tadokoro's face as he read the papers grew increasingly dejected.
“It seems the superiors seriously think I have a Time-Turner in my pocket.”
“What's wrong?” Naruko asked, trying to appear impartial.
“Those Quidditch guys always give us headaches,” Tadokoro grumbled, flicking through the parchments. “First you have to figure out who enchanted someone's broom, then something else. Now I got a complaint from a Healer.”
“A Healer?” Naruko blinked, trying to figure out what that meant.
“They've already arrived,” Tadokoro replied, looking up. “The teams that will be playing at the end of the month. When that happens, each team goes through a second medical clearance at the local wizarding hospital. There was an incident during the Transylvanian national team's clearance. The Healer is convinced that he was attacked by someone, but he can't remember the details of the incident, or at least the attacker, and the Obliviators have found nothing. He's almost ninety years old,” Tadokoro said tiredly. “Who would attack him? This is dotage.”
“Wow,” Naruko exhaled. “What are we going to do?”
“Most likely the case will be closed,” Tadokoro replied. “But since there's a report, we have to work on it. We should question the team members and just make sure no one is involved. If Obliviators don't have any leads, it's almost pointless.”
“So you should get on it, I take it?” Naruko asked, catching himself feeling stupidly excited because they weren't just talking about some Quidditch players. They were talking about one of the national teams. If Tadokoro could just, because of his job, meet and talk to every single member, that was... fucking awesome!
“I'll have to,” he muttered. “Though I really have more important things to do right now. I'd just be wasting my time.”
“So assign me to this task as your apprentice!” Naruko suggested excitedly before he could even think about the idea.
“You?” Tadokoro asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes!” Naruko replied hotly, pressing his palm to his chest. “Even I can handle it, can't I? We just need to talk to the team members and make sure we don't have a suspect?”
“Well— yes,” Tadokoro agreed.
“I'll do that, and you can get on with your work!” Naruko urged.
“Look, this isn't some silly amusement, even if the noise probably isn't worth it,” Tadokoro tried to reason with him, and Naruko straightened sharply, giving his face the most serious expression he could muster.
“I understand that,” he said collectedly. “And it would be a good reinforcement of the witness interrogation training programme.”
Tadokoro fell silent, and he seemed to be in heavy thought about the situation. Naruko tried not to disturb him, frozen in anticipation, but to himself encouraging him to give his permission. Wouldn't that be better for both of them? Tadokoro wouldn't have to be distracted and Naruko wouldn't have to die of boredom.
“Okay,” Tadokoro agreed reluctantly, lowering his gaze, and it took Naruko a lot of effort to suppress a cry of triumph. “I think you should be able to handle it. But be prepared to write a detailed report with the results of the investigation, and then compose a letter for the complainant.”
“I'll do it!” Naruko replied enthusiastically. “I have all the templates with me! Can I— Can I get their autographs after the conversation?” he dared to ask, giving a pleading look, but Tadokoro only got angry.
“No! Don't even think about letting yourself relax! This is your job! No unnecessary questions or nonsense like autographs! Your job is to treat them as witnesses, not Quidditch players!”
“I get it, I get it, I'm sorry,” Naruko huffed, and Tadokoro calmed down.
“I'll draw up your authorisation,” he said, rummaging through the parchments again. “Come see me in half an hour. You should be at the Ministry in three hours. You'll find Laurentiu, show him the documents and explain the situation, and he'll take you to the office where you can talk to them.”
“I got it, I'll come back in half an hour,” Naruko responded with a serious face and hurried out of the room.
He went back to his room to wait, and the time seemed endless. It was almost impossible to sit still, and thoughts kept popping into his head. Naruko tried to imagine how things would be when he got to the Ministry, tried to imagine the players of the Transylvanian national team. He knew many of the players in adult Quidditch well, but his favourite was always the England team, so his attention was more often than not focused on them. From the information about the group phase, he was aware that the Transylvanian guys had performed well, though he personally couldn't remember a single face from their team, even if he had read a magazine dedicated to all the players who had a chance of playing in the current World Championships just a couple of months ago.
Naruko mentally pulled himself back, trying to collect himself. He realised that he shouldn't think of them as people he could admire immensely. They were supposed to help his little investigation, which he had wrested away by nothing short of a miracle. He had no right to screw up. Time to prove to Tadokoro that he could be reliable and responsible.
When the half hour they'd agreed on had passed, Naruko slipped the folder with the necessary documents into his bag with a satisfied look and immediately Apparated to jump through space and then go through the not-so-pleasant procedure of entering the Ministry of Magic again.
Once at the entrance to the main hall, he took a couple of minutes to rid his clothes of the smell of rotten food and then headed for the security, feeling as if he had been working here for years and now he had been promoted.
After checking in with the security, Naruko was about to find Laurentiu, but the latter was already waiting for him and intercepted him near the cart. As it turned out, Tadokoro had sent him a Patronus with a message, so his colleague was already aware of what needed to be done and courteously escorted Naruko to the right office.
The nervous Healer, who really looked like a hundred years old, was waiting for them there, and Naruko had to be patient to listen to his rambling story, which was more water than useful details. All of those details were already on the application, though, filed along with the results of the Obliviators. Naruko sent the Healer home, reassuring him that he would look into the situation, and began to reread the documents again, hoping to pass the time until the national team players arrived.
There really weren't any leads yet. The Healer was sure that someone had attacked him and modified his memories, and, setting aside the report of the Obliviators working on him, how could that have happened? That someone appeared to be good at what he did. He was modifying the Healer's memories, but at some point something went wrong? Why would someone attack the old man and then modify his memories, covering their tracks? Taking that option seriously — no plausible explanation Naruko could find yet, no matter how hard he racked his brain.
When the guys from the team started coming in one by one, he still had no thoughts on the case, and the stories of the witnesses, who, one might say, were not witnesses, didn't make it any clearer. They'd all just had a short checkup with the Healer, he'd take a blood test and give an answer on clearance for the games after he'd finished examining the entire team. A standard procedure designed to relieve the team coach of responsibility if one of his players suddenly contracted a dangerous infectious disease. And nobody saw anything. There were no suspicious individuals who might have entered the Healer's office.
By the time it was the last player on the team, Naruko was almost tongue-tied from repeating the same questions over and over again. He wasn't getting his hopes up. The guys really didn't know anything, he was sorry to torture them here and waste their personal time, though he couldn't interrupt this ridiculous interrogation either.
Moreover, he wanted to talk to them about something else entirely. Ask about Quidditch, about how each of them had managed to get a spot on the national team. He had to hold back, which made Naruko literally feel like a traitor to his feelings.
When the last member of the team entered the office, he picked up his notebook and pen again to make notes for his future report, and nearly dropped it all back down because he was confused. He had completely forgotten that there was a girl among the players, and not just any girl. Young, slim, with a very pretty face and black short cropped hair, she looked very hot, but Naruko quickly made those thoughts disappear because he still wasn't allowed to be distracted.
As she took a seat in the chair in front of the small desk he himself was seated at, a strand of her beautiful hair fell over her face but was tucked back behind her ear with such an attractive hand movement that Naruko thought about it again: It looked like it wasn't going to be easy. The hardest part came last, didn't it?
“Um, so,” he said stupidly, turning the page of his notebook. He was going to start with the first question, to check her name and year of birth, but the girl beat him to it, asking her question first.
“Aren't you a little young to be working at the Ministry?” she asked, smiling, but it wasn't a nice smile. A little seductive, Naruko would say, but there was also an underlying sneer that almost hurt him.
“I'm twenty,” Naruko said, trying to remain calm. “I'm in an internship and I'm finishing my training this year.”
“Just twenty,” the girl smiled again, making herself more comfortable. She crossed her legs, causing Naruko to stare at her thighs, which were covered by the dark fabric of her trousers.
“You look very young too, you know,” he said, still not wanting to be indebted, and pulled out the parchment he needed. “Your name is Suzune Yoshimaru, right? Hm. Raine Yoshimaru was the first. Are you related?”
“He's my brother,” Suzune confirmed, somehow losing her smile.
Brother and sister on the same national team, Naruko mentally muttered, restraining himself from exhaling in admiration. Girls in general rarely made the national teams. She was probably a very, very strong player, though it was hard to tell from her physique. She seemed even... fragile? What did she play as? A Seeker? And damn, how he now regretted that he had a list of team members, but it was not written down who was in what position. He could only speculate, which didn't concern his case in any way at all.
“Okay,” Naruko said, deciding to himself that the girl hardly knew which questions he should and shouldn't ask her. “You play on the national team. What position?”
“Beater,” Suzune answered, looking somewhere at the wall and still not suspecting anything.
Naruko gasped.
“Wow. You're so thin, but you can play Beater at such a high level. It's my favourite position.”
Suzune gave him a questioning look that made him have to pull himself together.
“I'm sorry. It's not that,” Naruko said, pressing his bent palm to his mouth and staring down at his notebook again. “So you graduated from Hogwarts?”
“Gryffindor, if you're that interested,” Suzune replied.
Naruko bit his lip, acknowledging to himself that he wanted that girl's autograph more than anyone.
“No offences. No trouble with the law,” Naruko continued, glancing at the document laid beside him.
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Have you ever met the Healer who did the recent examination before? Mr Albescu.”
“No. This is the first time I've seen him.”
“And you were the last one in his office, according to the information I was given, correct?”
“That's right,” Suzune confirmed.
“Did he behave suspiciously while you were talking to him?”
“I wouldn't say so.”
“Did you see anyone who might have visited him after you? Or maybe you heard something after you'd already left the office?”
“No, I didn't.”
Naruko discreetly looked up. There was another moment when the girl, staring boredly away, touched the red ribbon tied under the collar of her shirt with her fingers, and he thought how unusual her movements were. Smooth, as if even hypnotising. She was a witch, no doubt, but she seemed a little too marvellous for a member of the wizarding world, too.
Okay, come on, it's just a pretty girl who knows how to hit Bludgers, Naruko mentally said to himself and decided that it was time to finish, but Suzune suddenly asked him a new question.
“Where did you study?”
“Huh?” Naruko blinked, confused.
“Before your Auror training,” Suzune prompted, smiling at him again.
“Er— Same place as you. At Hog,” Naruko answered, not knowing why.
“Were you a Gryffindor?” Suzune asked.
“What made you think that?”
“I thought the other shades wouldn't suit you. I meant your hair. It's a bold colour.”
“Are you flirting or something?” Naruko said, grinning. “I'm too 'young' for you, aren't I?” he asked jokingly, but even though there was a slight pleasant smile on Suzune's face, her eyes remained cold — moreover, there was something warning in them, something as if dangerous. If she was batting away Bludgers on the field, it was certainly without an ounce of doubt or pity.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked, as if completely bored, and looked away again.
She did that far too often for such a short conversation. Naruko was, of course, only grateful for this opportunity not to be confronted with piercing icy eyes, but it almost made him forget to ask one last question. Already his own because that was something he hadn't been taught during his training.
“Yes. May I ask for your wand?”
Something had changed, it seemed to him. He was clinging to every detail, trying to analyse every little thing, and he was almost ready to swear there was wariness in the girl's gaze for a second.
“Why?” she asked.
“To check the last spells that were performed,” Naruko shrugged. “Just in case.”
“As far as I know, you can't ask me to do that without proper authorisation,” Suzune replied coldly, losing any hint of a smile. “I'm not on the list of suspects.”
“You're right about that,” Naruko smiled. “Of course, I have no right to ask you or anyone else for his wand. Even if you gave it to me, I wouldn't check it out, naturally. That wasn't the point of the question, although I've asked it of all the previous team members who came to see me. Each of them had agreed to give me their wand because they had nothing to hide.”
“Do you think I'm hiding something?” Suzune asked, her eyes even colder if that was possible.
“Not at all,” Naruko replied, trying a friendly smile. “Please forgive me, I'm sorry. I must have offended you with that question. I didn't mean to.”
Suzune didn't answer him, didn't even smile, and Naruko felt the air in the office grow heavier. He felt uneasy. It was the first time he had ever felt like this around a girl. She didn't move or even look at him anymore, and at the same time, somehow, she seemed to inspire confidence that it was better not to mess with her.
So Naruko was in a hurry when he decided to tell her:
“I think you can go now. I really don't have any more questions for you.”
Suzune got up from her chair and it looked like she was going to leave without a goodbye, but as she opened the door, she still turned around with a quiet 'bye'.
Afterwards, Naruko was finally able to exhale and relax at least a little. Looking down at the scribbled sheet in his notebook, he replayed the entire last conversation in his head from start to finish and mentally convinced himself that it had been the strangest encounter of all that had happened today. He wasn't sure he was a good judge of girls, but Suzune Yoshimaru was definitely a strong personality. Overwhelmingly strong. There was nothing surprising about that, perhaps — she had risen to the level of the national Quidditch team as it was, and it would be foolish to... what? To reckon that she was capable of more than just hitting a Bludger at her opponent with a bat?
Naruko grinned to himself. Girls could be really touchy, he knew that for a fact. They could want to chat with him about extraneous topics without any ulterior motive, without planning to distract him. And he certainly didn't think to suspect one of them of assaulting a staff member at a wizarding hospital.