Celestine's fics (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} celescribbles) wrote,@ 2007-11-28 22:35:00 |
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| Entry tags: | vincit |
Vincit Qui Se Vincit
Chapter 6
Chapter summary: Daphne stood in silence as she waited for Theo to finish. He took his time leisurely, glancing up at her from time to time. It appeared that she, at least, hadn’t changed over the summer - still just as unassuming and fidgety as he remembered. The job fit her to a tee, but it was a shame those awful robes hid most of her figure.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Mrs Christabel Thompson glanced down at the file opened in front of her, looking rather bored, and gave a heavy sigh.
“I’m afraid it isn’t, Mr Nott,” she said. “I understand your concern for your father, but we’ve been in a state of alert since July, and certain restrictions have been made as a security measure.”
Theo pressed his lips together against the curses that were threatening to burst out. He felt such a powerful dislike for the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, icy and aloof, that it was almost physically painful to keep his fury under silence.
Restrictions. That was the fancy term they used to justify his father, guilty and criminal and dangerous as he was, being locked up in Azkaban since July without seeing the light of day, or his son’s face. All he wanted was five minutes – that would be enough to settle the most urgent matters.
“Listen, all I want to know is if I’ll be able to talk to him any time soon,” he said. “Or if a date has been settled for his trial, at least…”
“We are still processing through the administrative-”
Theo slapped his hand on the table, and for a split second, a shocked expression passed over Christabel Thompson’s face before returning to dull contempt.
“I’ve just left school,” he said, pressing every word, “and our house is under warrant…”
“Indeed, I have word here that the Ministry will be investigating the location on 30 September,” she replied coldly, shuffling with a few pieces of parchment that were lying on her desk. “All of Mr Jasper Nott’s properties are to be confiscated and examined by the Ministry for the time being.”
“Yes, but - ”
“Mister Nott, I assure you we are doing everything we can to make clear and efficient work of these difficult cases,” the witch cut him off, and rose from her seat, indicating that the conversation was to an end. “Now, if you’d like to make a request for an interview with the under-secretary of the board of the Wizengamot -”
“Will that get me anywhere?” Theo asked testily.
“You can try.” With a wave of her hand, the door opened. “First floor. Office 117. Good day, Mister Nott.”
The halls of the Ministry were crowded with wizards and witches running to and fro, carrying heavy folders and steaming cups of Jobberknoll juice. Theo watched the rustling paper notes fly over their heads as he made his way to the elevator, feeling like he’d just swallowed a ball of lead. It had been his third attempt at gaining permission to see his father. Any communication with him had been impossible since he’d been sent to Azkaban, and now they would take the house, and everything they owned…
His father had blood on his hands, no doubt about it – but that blood dated twenty years back, since before Theo was even born. Since the end of the First War, and for all of Theo’s childhood, he’d kept a low profile, keeping to himself and his affairs and his grief, avoiding the acquaintance of his former friends. He’d tried, and failed, to weasel out of joining the Dark Lord again when he’d returned, and again after being wounded the battle of the Department of Mysteries… That made him a coward on top of being a Death Eater, which was even worse, Theo supposed. But he wasn’t sure his father had murdered anyone this time – after all, he would have good reasons not to want to look at death in the face again.
But there was about as much use of explaining this to Mrs Christabel Thompson and her kind as trying to reason with a bunch of Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Theo took the elevator to the first floor, ignoring the suspicious looks the other wizards were casting at him, and made his way down to Office 117. He was almost there when he heard hurried steps coming up from behind him.
“Nott.”
It was Draco Malfoy. Theo turned around, eyebrows raised. Malfoy stood out from their surroundings as much as he did.
They shook hands, and Theo was about to ask him what he was doing there when the answer slid naturally into his mind. For the same reasons you are. They looked at each other for a moment, embarrassed, like two survivors of a shipwreck who happened to have grabbed onto the same buoy. They had never really been friends at Hogwarts.
“So, how have you been faring?” Theo finally asked.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Not well. They took the manor – me and Mum are renting a small place in… in Diagon Alley..” As he said this, the sneer Theo had heard so many times in his voice sounded more like hopelessness. He was lying, that much was clear – no one in Diagon Alley would rent a place out to the Malfoys. They were probably staying in some dingy room in Knockturn Alley, or even worse, had been forced to rent something from Muggles, and that Malfoy would never admit even if his life depended on it.
“Found a job yet?”
“I’m still quite busy with trying to get Father’s trial underway, and have permission granted to send him owls.”
There was nothing for Theo to add to that, for Malfoy or for himself, and he simply nodded.
“Are you still living in London?”
“They’re taking Clocksworth Place next week,” Theo said. “Just as well, perhaps, it’s getting depressing to have that bloody house all to myself. Our relatives, who were always so happy to drop in unannounced, have all suddenly disappeared to where owls can’t find them.”
“So where are you going to stay?”
“I’ll probably take up a room at the Leaky Cauldron, unless they have a new ‘No Purebloods’ policy. And I have to come here anyway, so… I guess it’s not the last time we’ll bump into each other.”
Malfoy shrugged. “Not like we have much of a choice.” He gave a little twist of his mouth that vaguely resembled a smile. “Well. Good luck with everything.”
They shook hands again, and Theo watched as Malfoy stalked away in the opposite direction, his dark cloak drooping inelegantly from his thin frame. Back at Hogwarts, he hadn’t been able to stand Malfoy’s strutting gait, but seeing him like this depressed him almost as much as the rest. He half-heartedly walked over to Office 117.
A frazzled-looking witch with droopy cheeks was manning the desk, and she looked at him with as much interest as if he was one of the many potted plants cluttering the room.
“I’m here to request an interview with -”
“You’ll have to fill out the form,” she told him, and reached into a drawer. “Fill it out and then – drat, I’m out of them.” She sighed, closed her eyes a moment, then took a small blue paper from another drawer and scribbled something on it. With a flick of her wand, it flew out the door and zoomed into the hall. “Wait one moment, please. Sit down.”
Theo pulled up a chair and looked around the drab surroundings, then listened as the witch replied to a talking paper memo asking for file 345 to be sent to a department on the fifth floor.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have it, Foreman is in charge of all the – oh, come in, Greengrass.”
Theo turned brusquely towards the door. Meeting Malfoy here hadn’t been such a surprise, but this certainly was.
Daphne Greengrass crossed the doorway, carrying a heavy load of freshly printed forms, her dark, curly hair tied in a messy bun and her face red from the effort. She was wearing the same dowdy robes all the Ministry employees wore, which amused Theo greatly. How on earth had she landed a job here, of all places?
“Put the forms in the drawer, and leave one out for this gentleman here,” the witch at the desk said, without looking at her.
When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened and she almost missed the table putting her load down, then realised her mistake and fumbled to recover the rumpled sheets that had landed on the floor. Theo watched, smirking, as she straightened her robes and pulled out her wand, then muttered a shrinking spell that affected only the top portion of the pile. She repeated it, the colour in her cheeks rising, then glanced at him again and remembered she needed a full-sized form. Once she’d turned one back its normal size, she seemed not to know whether to hand it to him directly or wait for an order.
The witch waved her hand and the sheet flew out of Daphne’s hand to Theo. “All right, Mister…”
“Nott. Theodore Nott.”
“Mister Nott, take a quill and fill out the form. Greengrass, you can go – no, wait, stay until he’s finished, then you can take it directly to Gerber’s office. And could you bring back a Jabberknoll juice? Sweet Merlin, I’m exhausted already.”
“Yes, Mrs Tottlebee.”
Daphne stood in silence as she waited for Theo to finish. He took his time leisurely, glancing up at her from time to time. It appeared that she, at least, hadn’t changed over the summer - still just as unassuming and fidgety as he remembered. The job fit her to a tee, but it was a shame those awful robes hid most of her figure. Narrow waist, small breasts, none of the other girls’ curvaceous arrogance – bloody fantastic, to Theo’s mind. She looked as though she could be snapped in two. He bit back a snicker as he signed at the bottom of the form.
“Here you go,” he said, handing Daphne the sheet.
She gave him a wary smile and nodded, then scampered out the door before he had time to get to his feet.
“Don’t forget that Jabberknoll juice,” the droopy witch called after her.
*****************************
Of all the people to show up… but no, it was her fault, she should’ve anticipated it. Of course he would show up here. She’d already caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, and he had to be next – their respective fathers were the most important cases the Law Enforcement Department was working on. But she never thought she’d actually meet him in Deidre Tottlebee’s office.
Daphne ran up to Raphael Gerber’s office and waited for the form to be filed and registered before rushing down to the first floor again with Mrs Tottlebee’s drink. Then there were files to order, and documents to copy, which Daphne didn’t mind so much because it didn’t require much thought, and that left time to think of other things.
“I need three copies of that report by twelve, Greengrass.”
Daphne nodded absent-mindedly to Agnes Palaver, her direct superior and head secretary of the Wizengamot Administration Services. As she pulled out her wand and cast a Replicate charm on the quill lying before her, her thoughts turned to Theodore Nott. What a klutz she’d made of herself in front of him… but to meet him there had been so unexpected! She’d had no time to prepare herself, though that hadn’t done her any good at Hogwarts. No matter how composed she tried to be, she always seemed to end up looking foolish in front of him.
It had started at the end of her fifth year. She could even remember the very day… She was in the common room with Pansy and Tracy, and they were talking about boys, as always, and playing at matching up people from Slytherin. Millicent should go with Crabbe, Pansy said - that was the usual joke. Tracy thought Blaise was good-looking but too snotty, she would much rather be with Adrian Pucey, until finally…
“What about you, Daphne, who do you fancy?”
There had been a salvo of giggles, as if the very thought of her fancying anyone was funny. She’d had small fancies before, of course, but no one in Slytherin, and she couldn’t very well own up to that. But as far as her housemates went… well, she supposed Theodore Nott was interesting. He was very clever, and he had a sharp air about him that she found rather attractive.
In the end, Daphne hadn’t replied because Pansy didn’t like Theo at all. But after that, she had started to watch Theo in class, and her imagination had wound itself around his hands, his eyes, the way his dark hair fell lightly on his forehead, the way his mouth drew into a pout when something displeased him. And then the knots in the stomach had started, the tight throat and burning cheeks, and the humiliation of having everyone in Slytherin snicker about it.
If he’d guessed her feelings, he’d never said a word about it to her or anyone, which was at the same time a relief and a painful reminder that he was perfectly indifferent to her.
Two years had passed, and her longing had been relentless. And now that they were finally out of Hogwarts, Theo had been thrown back in her face along with all the memories of her desperate affection and crushed hopes.
“Good grief, mind your quill, Greengrass, or you’ll get ink blots all over.”
Daphne stopped for a moment to close her eyes, then started again, urging herself to keep calm. There was no reason that she should ever meet him again - only the most experienced staff worked on such important cases as those of the Death Eaters. And that was probably just as well, because her father would never allow her to go anywhere near someone like Theodore Nott.
When lunchtime rolled around, Agnes gave Daphne a twenty-minute break. She had no time in the morning to pack her own lunch and had to purchase it in a Muggle grocery a few streets away from the Ministry. Daphne hurried her way up to the Atrium along with a crowd of lesser Ministry employees who had as few precious minutes as she did to go eat.
As she walked briskly towards the exit, lost in the flow, she saw a familiar figure in the corner of her vision and turned her head, almost tripping over the person in front of her.
Theo. He was leaning casually against a pillar next to where the statue used to be, watching the employees rush past like he would a line of ants. Daphne looked away again, but not before she realised with a jolt of panic that he was heading her way. She stood dumbly in the moving crowd, waiting, half-wondering if she was mistaken and he had spotted someone behind her.
But this was no mistake. They were like two little islands of youth, of former Slytherin glory, fresh out of Hogwarts and still obviously unaccustomed to the grinding mechanism of the Ministry. And that smirk, that little glint of amusement in his eyes, who else could it be for?
“Daphne,” he said politely, then gave a little nod as if to greet her. “Lunch?”
“I – um – hi, Theodore,” she replied, trying to smile. “I’m – yes, on my way to lunch, but I only have twenty minutes. So… is everything fine for you?”
“Not quite fine,” he replied, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Right.” She blushed, feeling tremendously silly. “Well, I’m sorry – I’m really sorry to hear that…”
“So if you have more than twenty minutes one of these days,” he interrupted, “it’s more than likely you’ll see me around. For lunch, I mean.”
“Of course. I’ll be around too. I work here now, as you’ve seen…”
She started to explain what her job was, but every word coming out of her mouth sounded more awkward than the last, and Theo looked wholly uninterested in the matter. “Well, I’d better get going,” she finally blurted out. “I hope… things get better for you. It’s very nice to see you again.”
He said nothing. His smile simply widened, but it didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it gave her a profoundly unsettling feeling, and she turned away, mortified. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder as the crowd engulfed her again, pushing her towards the exit and the busy street and the sandwich she wouldn’t eat, having lost all her appetite. But she could sense a pair of eyes watching her, mocking what she had become, or perhaps what she had always been.
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Chapter 6
Chapter summary: Daphne stood in silence as she waited for Theo to finish. He took his time leisurely, glancing up at her from time to time. It appeared that she, at least, hadn’t changed over the summer - still just as unassuming and fidgety as he remembered. The job fit her to a tee, but it was a shame those awful robes hid most of her figure.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Mrs Christabel Thompson glanced down at the file opened in front of her, looking rather bored, and gave a heavy sigh.
“I’m afraid it isn’t, Mr Nott,” she said. “I understand your concern for your father, but we’ve been in a state of alert since July, and certain restrictions have been made as a security measure.”
Theo pressed his lips together against the curses that were threatening to burst out. He felt such a powerful dislike for the woman sitting on the other side of the desk, icy and aloof, that it was almost physically painful to keep his fury under silence.
Restrictions. That was the fancy term they used to justify his father, guilty and criminal and dangerous as he was, being locked up in Azkaban since July without seeing the light of day, or his son’s face. All he wanted was five minutes – that would be enough to settle the most urgent matters.
“Listen, all I want to know is if I’ll be able to talk to him any time soon,” he said. “Or if a date has been settled for his trial, at least…”
“We are still processing through the administrative-”
Theo slapped his hand on the table, and for a split second, a shocked expression passed over Christabel Thompson’s face before returning to dull contempt.
“I’ve just left school,” he said, pressing every word, “and our house is under warrant…”
“Indeed, I have word here that the Ministry will be investigating the location on 30 September,” she replied coldly, shuffling with a few pieces of parchment that were lying on her desk. “All of Mr Jasper Nott’s properties are to be confiscated and examined by the Ministry for the time being.”
“Yes, but - ”
“Mister Nott, I assure you we are doing everything we can to make clear and efficient work of these difficult cases,” the witch cut him off, and rose from her seat, indicating that the conversation was to an end. “Now, if you’d like to make a request for an interview with the under-secretary of the board of the Wizengamot -”
“Will that get me anywhere?” Theo asked testily.
“You can try.” With a wave of her hand, the door opened. “First floor. Office 117. Good day, Mister Nott.”
The halls of the Ministry were crowded with wizards and witches running to and fro, carrying heavy folders and steaming cups of Jobberknoll juice. Theo watched the rustling paper notes fly over their heads as he made his way to the elevator, feeling like he’d just swallowed a ball of lead. It had been his third attempt at gaining permission to see his father. Any communication with him had been impossible since he’d been sent to Azkaban, and now they would take the house, and everything they owned…
His father had blood on his hands, no doubt about it – but that blood dated twenty years back, since before Theo was even born. Since the end of the First War, and for all of Theo’s childhood, he’d kept a low profile, keeping to himself and his affairs and his grief, avoiding the acquaintance of his former friends. He’d tried, and failed, to weasel out of joining the Dark Lord again when he’d returned, and again after being wounded the battle of the Department of Mysteries… That made him a coward on top of being a Death Eater, which was even worse, Theo supposed. But he wasn’t sure his father had murdered anyone this time – after all, he would have good reasons not to want to look at death in the face again.
But there was about as much use of explaining this to Mrs Christabel Thompson and her kind as trying to reason with a bunch of Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Theo took the elevator to the first floor, ignoring the suspicious looks the other wizards were casting at him, and made his way down to Office 117. He was almost there when he heard hurried steps coming up from behind him.
“Nott.”
It was Draco Malfoy. Theo turned around, eyebrows raised. Malfoy stood out from their surroundings as much as he did.
They shook hands, and Theo was about to ask him what he was doing there when the answer slid naturally into his mind. For the same reasons you are. They looked at each other for a moment, embarrassed, like two survivors of a shipwreck who happened to have grabbed onto the same buoy. They had never really been friends at Hogwarts.
“So, how have you been faring?” Theo finally asked.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Not well. They took the manor – me and Mum are renting a small place in… in Diagon Alley..” As he said this, the sneer Theo had heard so many times in his voice sounded more like hopelessness. He was lying, that much was clear – no one in Diagon Alley would rent a place out to the Malfoys. They were probably staying in some dingy room in Knockturn Alley, or even worse, had been forced to rent something from Muggles, and that Malfoy would never admit even if his life depended on it.
“Found a job yet?”
“I’m still quite busy with trying to get Father’s trial underway, and have permission granted to send him owls.”
There was nothing for Theo to add to that, for Malfoy or for himself, and he simply nodded.
“Are you still living in London?”
“They’re taking Clocksworth Place next week,” Theo said. “Just as well, perhaps, it’s getting depressing to have that bloody house all to myself. Our relatives, who were always so happy to drop in unannounced, have all suddenly disappeared to where owls can’t find them.”
“So where are you going to stay?”
“I’ll probably take up a room at the Leaky Cauldron, unless they have a new ‘No Purebloods’ policy. And I have to come here anyway, so… I guess it’s not the last time we’ll bump into each other.”
Malfoy shrugged. “Not like we have much of a choice.” He gave a little twist of his mouth that vaguely resembled a smile. “Well. Good luck with everything.”
They shook hands again, and Theo watched as Malfoy stalked away in the opposite direction, his dark cloak drooping inelegantly from his thin frame. Back at Hogwarts, he hadn’t been able to stand Malfoy’s strutting gait, but seeing him like this depressed him almost as much as the rest. He half-heartedly walked over to Office 117.
A frazzled-looking witch with droopy cheeks was manning the desk, and she looked at him with as much interest as if he was one of the many potted plants cluttering the room.
“I’m here to request an interview with -”
“You’ll have to fill out the form,” she told him, and reached into a drawer. “Fill it out and then – drat, I’m out of them.” She sighed, closed her eyes a moment, then took a small blue paper from another drawer and scribbled something on it. With a flick of her wand, it flew out the door and zoomed into the hall. “Wait one moment, please. Sit down.”
Theo pulled up a chair and looked around the drab surroundings, then listened as the witch replied to a talking paper memo asking for file 345 to be sent to a department on the fifth floor.
“I’m telling you, I don’t have it, Foreman is in charge of all the – oh, come in, Greengrass.”
Theo turned brusquely towards the door. Meeting Malfoy here hadn’t been such a surprise, but this certainly was.
Daphne Greengrass crossed the doorway, carrying a heavy load of freshly printed forms, her dark, curly hair tied in a messy bun and her face red from the effort. She was wearing the same dowdy robes all the Ministry employees wore, which amused Theo greatly. How on earth had she landed a job here, of all places?
“Put the forms in the drawer, and leave one out for this gentleman here,” the witch at the desk said, without looking at her.
When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened and she almost missed the table putting her load down, then realised her mistake and fumbled to recover the rumpled sheets that had landed on the floor. Theo watched, smirking, as she straightened her robes and pulled out her wand, then muttered a shrinking spell that affected only the top portion of the pile. She repeated it, the colour in her cheeks rising, then glanced at him again and remembered she needed a full-sized form. Once she’d turned one back its normal size, she seemed not to know whether to hand it to him directly or wait for an order.
The witch waved her hand and the sheet flew out of Daphne’s hand to Theo. “All right, Mister…”
“Nott. Theodore Nott.”
“Mister Nott, take a quill and fill out the form. Greengrass, you can go – no, wait, stay until he’s finished, then you can take it directly to Gerber’s office. And could you bring back a Jabberknoll juice? Sweet Merlin, I’m exhausted already.”
“Yes, Mrs Tottlebee.”
Daphne stood in silence as she waited for Theo to finish. He took his time leisurely, glancing up at her from time to time. It appeared that she, at least, hadn’t changed over the summer - still just as unassuming and fidgety as he remembered. The job fit her to a tee, but it was a shame those awful robes hid most of her figure. Narrow waist, small breasts, none of the other girls’ curvaceous arrogance – bloody fantastic, to Theo’s mind. She looked as though she could be snapped in two. He bit back a snicker as he signed at the bottom of the form.
“Here you go,” he said, handing Daphne the sheet.
She gave him a wary smile and nodded, then scampered out the door before he had time to get to his feet.
“Don’t forget that Jabberknoll juice,” the droopy witch called after her.
Of all the people to show up… but no, it was her fault, she should’ve anticipated it. Of course he would show up here. She’d already caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy, and he had to be next – their respective fathers were the most important cases the Law Enforcement Department was working on. But she never thought she’d actually meet him in Deidre Tottlebee’s office.
Daphne ran up to Raphael Gerber’s office and waited for the form to be filed and registered before rushing down to the first floor again with Mrs Tottlebee’s drink. Then there were files to order, and documents to copy, which Daphne didn’t mind so much because it didn’t require much thought, and that left time to think of other things.
“I need three copies of that report by twelve, Greengrass.”
Daphne nodded absent-mindedly to Agnes Palaver, her direct superior and head secretary of the Wizengamot Administration Services. As she pulled out her wand and cast a Replicate charm on the quill lying before her, her thoughts turned to Theodore Nott. What a klutz she’d made of herself in front of him… but to meet him there had been so unexpected! She’d had no time to prepare herself, though that hadn’t done her any good at Hogwarts. No matter how composed she tried to be, she always seemed to end up looking foolish in front of him.
It had started at the end of her fifth year. She could even remember the very day… She was in the common room with Pansy and Tracy, and they were talking about boys, as always, and playing at matching up people from Slytherin. Millicent should go with Crabbe, Pansy said - that was the usual joke. Tracy thought Blaise was good-looking but too snotty, she would much rather be with Adrian Pucey, until finally…
“What about you, Daphne, who do you fancy?”
There had been a salvo of giggles, as if the very thought of her fancying anyone was funny. She’d had small fancies before, of course, but no one in Slytherin, and she couldn’t very well own up to that. But as far as her housemates went… well, she supposed Theodore Nott was interesting. He was very clever, and he had a sharp air about him that she found rather attractive.
In the end, Daphne hadn’t replied because Pansy didn’t like Theo at all. But after that, she had started to watch Theo in class, and her imagination had wound itself around his hands, his eyes, the way his dark hair fell lightly on his forehead, the way his mouth drew into a pout when something displeased him. And then the knots in the stomach had started, the tight throat and burning cheeks, and the humiliation of having everyone in Slytherin snicker about it.
If he’d guessed her feelings, he’d never said a word about it to her or anyone, which was at the same time a relief and a painful reminder that he was perfectly indifferent to her.
Two years had passed, and her longing had been relentless. And now that they were finally out of Hogwarts, Theo had been thrown back in her face along with all the memories of her desperate affection and crushed hopes.
“Good grief, mind your quill, Greengrass, or you’ll get ink blots all over.”
Daphne stopped for a moment to close her eyes, then started again, urging herself to keep calm. There was no reason that she should ever meet him again - only the most experienced staff worked on such important cases as those of the Death Eaters. And that was probably just as well, because her father would never allow her to go anywhere near someone like Theodore Nott.
When lunchtime rolled around, Agnes gave Daphne a twenty-minute break. She had no time in the morning to pack her own lunch and had to purchase it in a Muggle grocery a few streets away from the Ministry. Daphne hurried her way up to the Atrium along with a crowd of lesser Ministry employees who had as few precious minutes as she did to go eat.
As she walked briskly towards the exit, lost in the flow, she saw a familiar figure in the corner of her vision and turned her head, almost tripping over the person in front of her.
Theo. He was leaning casually against a pillar next to where the statue used to be, watching the employees rush past like he would a line of ants. Daphne looked away again, but not before she realised with a jolt of panic that he was heading her way. She stood dumbly in the moving crowd, waiting, half-wondering if she was mistaken and he had spotted someone behind her.
But this was no mistake. They were like two little islands of youth, of former Slytherin glory, fresh out of Hogwarts and still obviously unaccustomed to the grinding mechanism of the Ministry. And that smirk, that little glint of amusement in his eyes, who else could it be for?
“Daphne,” he said politely, then gave a little nod as if to greet her. “Lunch?”
“I – um – hi, Theodore,” she replied, trying to smile. “I’m – yes, on my way to lunch, but I only have twenty minutes. So… is everything fine for you?”
“Not quite fine,” he replied, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Right.” She blushed, feeling tremendously silly. “Well, I’m sorry – I’m really sorry to hear that…”
“So if you have more than twenty minutes one of these days,” he interrupted, “it’s more than likely you’ll see me around. For lunch, I mean.”
“Of course. I’ll be around too. I work here now, as you’ve seen…”
She started to explain what her job was, but every word coming out of her mouth sounded more awkward than the last, and Theo looked wholly uninterested in the matter. “Well, I’d better get going,” she finally blurted out. “I hope… things get better for you. It’s very nice to see you again.”
He said nothing. His smile simply widened, but it didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it gave her a profoundly unsettling feeling, and she turned away, mortified. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder as the crowd engulfed her again, pushing her towards the exit and the busy street and the sandwich she wouldn’t eat, having lost all her appetite. But she could sense a pair of eyes watching her, mocking what she had become, or perhaps what she had always been.
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