Amelia Susan Bones

❝You cannot buy the revolution. You cannot make the revolution. You can only be the revolution. It is in your spirit, or it is nowhere.❞ - Ursula K. Le Guin

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Never Drink Alone || Amelia & Sirius || July 1, 1978

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Sirius could feel the blush on the back of his throat and it was most unwelcome. He had rather been that she wouldn’t notice it when, alas, slim fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt exposing his embarrassment for the world to see. Tugging himself back, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Oi, gerroff me! Unless you plan on taking me home tonight I am going to have to ask you to keep your hands to yourself, Miss. Bones. Lest we give in to the carnal heat which has built between us for years now and end up shagging right here on this bar.” Oh yes, two could play at this game. If a fight was what she wanted then he was not opposed to flirting her socks off. Of course if it worked he would be faced with something of a dilemma, for though he ardently adored Amelia their friendship was one of the few he prized enough not to sully it with sex…but she was dressed exceptionally well that evening. Stop it, bad brain! Hoping to cleanse himself of such unsavory thoughts, Sirius instead tried a much more tender topic.   “Anyway, all flirtation aside I hope you know…” sighing through his nose, he frowned at the bar, picking at one of the coasters (stuck with a thick layer of grime, alcohol or both) with his thumbnail “You…ah…You mean a lot to me. Just…Felt I should say something. Y’know, what with the war, in case anything were to…happen.” 

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She should have known her victory would be short lived. He hit her with the one two punch of rather loudly asking her to keep her hands to herself and then the prophesy of shagging her on the bar. Her face turned scarlet and she immediately pulled back, glancing around to see who might have heard him. There was at least one set of eyes watching with a disapproving expression and Amelia quickly turned around again to avoid them.

“Sirius!” she hissed, fixing him with a less than impressive glare. “Stop that, would you? Someone’ll hear and get the entirely wrong impression. Of both of us.” 

He quickly derailed her scolding by switching back to being sweet. Her ire and embarrassment forgotten, Amelia hooked her arm around his and tugged him closer, pressing an entirely chaste kiss to his cheek. “I love you, too, Black. We’re both going to be fine, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen, I promise. Now then, what are the odds I can get you to walk me home like a gentleman? I’m afraid that if I leave alone the witch in the corner booth might try to claw my eyes out for keeping your attention away from her.” 

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{ Conflicts of Interest } ||        Amelia + Minerva

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Minerva settles herself into one of the seats at the kitchen table, bringing the biscuit tin with her to wait for the tea to be ready. There’s some flightiness to Amelia’s movements that seems unnatural to her usual demeanor but she assumes that to some extent, what she wishes to discuss is not an easy thing for her to bring up. Not to mention, everyone’s nerves have been put on edge with the tidings of battle beginning to churn away in the belly of Wizarding Britain.

At Amelia’s words rushing from her lips, Minerva blinks slowly before forming an answer. “I am.”

It certainly must be a strange dilemma if it has something to do with Dumbledore and Alastor both. The professor keeps her expression passive, not wanting to jump to conclusions before the young woman had her chance to share what was on her mind. She has her own notion of what might be behind it but there’s no way to know what possibly has to do with Amelia.

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“Right, well, I work with Mr. Moody at the Ministry and of course we all share a common side job...” she began, referring to the Order. “He didn’t want me to talk to anyone else about what he asked me to do, but I’m just not sure. I need someone else’s opinion who can perhaps be a bit more objective or at least is removed from the situation.” 

Amelia took a deep breath, realizing she wasn’t explaining very well as of yet. She shook her head and plucked the whistling tea kettle from the stove, setting it on a trivet to steep and moving to sit across from Minerva. 

“Mr. Moody asked me to essentially spy on Professor Dumbledore,” she said, finally getting to the heart of the issue. “I guess he doesn’t trust him and he thinks I’m in a better position to gather intelligence. Which, is sort of true, I mean that’s my job and I’m good at it, but it’s a very strange position to be put in and I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. I mean, I trust both of them and I think that while they may go about it in different ways, they both want the same thing. So in theory paying a bit of a closer eye on Professor Dumbledore isn’t a big deal at all -- if he has nothing to hide then he shouldn’t mind. And if he does have some ulterior motive then we deserve to know. But... I feel like I’m betraying him or the Order. I don’t know what to do.”

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{ Conflicts of Interest } ||        Amelia + Minerva

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Amelia’s effusive greet brings a small genuine smile to Minerva’s lips and she steps in as she’s invited. At the mention of the young woman not being much of a cook, the professor simply shakes her head. “I’ve already had lunch so a few biscuits and tea work well.”

Minerva follows her host as she heads into the kitchen and stands out of the way as she quickly adds, “English breakfast sounds perfect, thank you, Amelia.” It amuses the woman how insistent the former Hufflepuff is in making certain that she’s taken care of, but not making assumptions on her preferences. As an afterthought, Minerva tacks on, “If you have honey, that’s all I’d need.”

There’s need to rush this and Minerva’s more than happy to allow Amelia to fuss over her in making tea and setting out the ginger biscuits. The young woman has a well appointed little home. Quaint and decorated in a way that reflects the Ministry employed woman’s character. It looks nothing like the overstuffed quality of Alastor’s townhouse with all the knick knacks and oddities. Which is exactly like him. Minerva never ceases to be intrigued by just how well a person’s taste in decorating reflects on their own personality.

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“English breakfast it is,” she agreed with a nod, pulling out the appropriate tea and fishing the honey from a cupboard. There was a bit of a nervous energy in all her movements, everything more fluttery and less put together than usual. Alastor’s last instruction to her had been to keep their conversation to herself and she was deliberately disobeying. Don’t think about that now. She pulled the top off of the biscuit tin and set it on the counter in front of Minerva as well. “Please make yourself at home, Professor, this should be ready in just a minute or two.” 

There were already two mugs and two small plates out, so Amelia really didn’t have anything else to do until the kettle started to sing. She took a deep breath and turned to face Minerva. “So, uhm, the reason I asked you to come is because I have a...strange dilemma. You’re pretty close with both Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Moody, right?”

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{ Conflicts of Interest } ||        Amelia + Minerva

Meeting with former students and friends always seems to become more frequent in the week leading up to the new school term. Minerva enjoys the preoccupation and use of her time. Though she certainly doesn’t mind the free time of summer hols, there comes a point when Alastor’s absence due to his demanding work schedule and little to do around the flat becomes a dull way to fill her time.

Of course Amelia’s time is rather precious these days as well, as she works in the Ministry’s law department, often in unison with cases Alastor and his aurors are assigned. Her input and access to information is unparalleled within the Order. The manner of the young woman’s owl has Minerva rather curious to know what the matter is that she wishes to speak with her on.

So it’s with satisfaction and a healthy dose of interest in her plan for the day that Minerva locks up the townhouse and makes her way to the nearest apparation point. With hair perfectly composed and sensible attire, the professor quickly cracks from one location to another and makes her way to the front door of Amelia Bones’ residence. Knuckles rap against the door and the astute woman waits patiently for her host to greet her.

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Amelia had been anxious the entire day waiting for Minerva to come by and speak with her. Alastor had instructed her to keep his request for her to spy on Dumbledore to herself, but she needed help making the decision. This wasn’t something she felt she truly had a grasp on and no one knew the two of them better than the Deputy Headmistress. Though Professor McGonagall hadn’t been her head of house, Amelia had always felt a sort of kinship with her and trusted her to offer wise counsel in this matter. 

It was merely a matter of seconds after Minerva knocked that Amelia opened the door, smiling warmly. “Professor, thank you so much for coming, I know this is a busy time for you. Please, come in,” she greeted her, stepping back and holding open the door so the other woman could come in. “I’m not much of a cook, but I did stop off and get some ginger biscuits yesterday after work and even I can’t screw up a pot of tea.” 

The younger girl lead the way back to her tiny kitchen, and got the kettle out to start tea. “I couldn’t remember if you had a preference on your tea, so I decided to wait until you were here to make any. I have earl grey, oolong, english breakfast, and chai. Or coffee, if you prefer.”

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Protocol & Other Things We Ignore {Amelia & Alastor}

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It was a tricky situation. One he had avoided bringing anyone else in on. To put her between them was not something he wished to do but something that he needed to do. There had to be more eyes on Dumbledore. People had to be aware of everything that was wrong with that man. He had to make people open their eyes and see.

“Thinkin’ is what’s best,” he growled out, moving back to his desk and seemingly blowing her off. “Away with ye an’ think on it. I’m sure I dinnae need ta tell ye ta keep it ta yerself.”

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It was a clear dismissal and Amelia was grateful for it. She nodded and sighed, straightening her blouse and smoothing her hair before exiting in the hopes that she wouldn’t look as wrung out as she felt. Not that anyone would be shocked; closed door meetings with Alastor Moody left most people feeling a bit ragged when they were through. She left the half finished whiskey on his desk, even though she was tempted to throw the rest back to try and soothe her jangled nerves. She paused with her handle on the door, feeling like she ought to perhaps apologize or something but instead just sighed again. 

“I’ll have an answer for you soon.” 

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Professor McGonagall - do you think you might have time to meet with me for coffee before school starts? I'd like to pick your brain about something. -- Amelia Bones

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Amelia, I certainly have ample time to meet with you. Just let me know a time and place and I’m more than happy to meet with you and let you pick away.

Sincerely,

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Professor, 

Would tomorrow work for you? Perhaps in the afternoon? I would prefer to keep our conversation private, so you could come by my home or, if it is easier for you, I will happily come to you. I just find myself in need of some advice. 

Thank you, 

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Protocol & Other Things We Ignore {Amelia & Alastor}

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“Dinnae be a fool, Bones. There’s always been corruption in the Ministry,” he said. It was inherent in the system. There would always be someone with a weak moral compass and money to waste. Just as there would always be Ministry workers that were easily manipulated. “It grows its worst in war years an’ Dumbledore kens it. But puttin’ a bunch t’gether that are nae trained an’ ha’e no realistic concept o’ the world they’re livin’ in. He’s doin’ just the same as this Lord Voldemort an’ dinnae pretend otherwise. Raisin’ them fer slaughter. Ye mark my words.”

He calmed himself. Taking a steady breath. “Ye trust him as they all do because all around ye trust him. Ye dinnae ken any other way because it’s all ye’ve e’er known, lass. Gryffindor he may be but they’re snakes the lot o’ them. Ta my knowledge Aberforth is the anly ane who dinnae go pretendin’ he’s somethin’ he’s nae.”

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“I am not a fool,” she replied, “I’m merely making a point. The truth is I believe in this place, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Nor would I be in the Order if I didn’t believe in them and those in charge. You’re putting me in a very complicated position, Alastor.” 

Amelia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she considered his request. She paced a few steps, trying to figure out what the right thing to do in this situation was. On the one hand, simply belonging to the Order could be considered a betrayal to the Ministry and the Aurors she worked with, but Alastor himself had joined -- even if it was against his better judgement. But spying on Albus was absolutely a betrayal of his trust. But what if Alastor was right? She remembered overhearing Albus talking to someone about acceptable losses -- was there really such a thing as an acceptable loss? She didn’t consider anyone of her colleagues in either organization expendable. Did they? 

“I need to think about this, sir.”

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Protocol & Other Things We Ignore {Amelia & Alastor}

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“Vigilante groups are nae the way ta get things done. Citizens takin’ it upon themselves ta do Auror work is dangerous. It goes against e’erythin’ a Moody is bred fer,” he said.

The thing was, Alastor Moody had always had an impeccable memory. He was good for fine details. Things stood out to him in a way they just didn’t for other people. He remembered the first time he met Albus Dumbledore, aged six and a half. He had been wary of the old wizard even then as he watched him speak with his Father. There was something about him that had young Alastor on edge that night and had ever since. More important were the words uttered to him when his Father knew they were safe…

“Ne’er trust a Dumbledore,” he growled out. His accent was harsher, his tone stronger. A perfect imitation of his Father.

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“You said not ten minutes ago that there’s corruption within the Ministry...isn’t it possible that we’re going to have to go outside of it to get ahead of this?” she asked. Perhaps she was simply playing devil’s advocate, but it felt like a valid question. When the law failed to keep the peace, when those in authority were corrupt and criminal themselves, what else were they to do? 

She took a small step back as he quoted his father, the added gruffness in his voice making her eyes grow wide again. Never trust a Dumbledore? Well why not? The entire Wizarding world trusted Albus Dumbledore with the lives of their children. She swallowed hard and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not trying to be difficult, Moody, but I’m just...I’m not sure about this. Just having this conversation feels vaguely treasonous and I’ve trusted Albus for a long time, he’s never given me a reason not to. I don’t know what his family did to lose your family’s trust.”