Lupin’s success in adding Millicent to their ever growing list of allies, had been probably their largest victory yet. Al had been fairly confident he’d manage it, if he couldn’t it would have only proven to be a fairly large red flag given the fact Al had given her the recommendation themself. They’d practically wrapped the Undersecretary up in a red ribbon and dropped her in his lap, but they would still voice the alliance as Remus’s victory. He needed to look strong, capable of handling people such as Millicent whose loyalty always came with conditions. They were fine giving the win to him, that didn’t mean though they still didn’t want to pop in on Millicent, if only to see how the young wolf did during his first significant meeting into enemy lines since he became their leader.
When it came to their own meeting with the witch, Al decided to take more covert measures, finding far too much pleasure in throwing Millicent off guard. Their ability to cross the border by use of an animagus had remained their little secret, something they could keep to themself and themself only. It was better if most were unaware they could cross the border when certain circumstances called for it, and they made sure those circumstances were few and far between- such as right now. Millicent’s wards- a lengthy series, each magical lock more complex than the last, was the biggest challenge, but not one they couldn’t manage. They wonder to themself, as they alter the last ward to allow their presence inside, if some how Millicent purposefully added wards she knew Al could crack if given enough time to. That maybe, perhaps, she delighted in these little unexpected meetings as much as Al had?
The house is still empty by the time they get themself inside, taking a seat at the kitchen table they decide to wait there until she gets back, sitting in the pitch black with only what little moonlight raining in from the windows as light. Millicent appears not much later, the way she moves about, carefree with her carefully constructed walls seemingly down, tells Al she hasn’t noticed their presence. They wonder how long they could sit there until she discovered them, although they were far too impatient for that game. Shifting in their seat, their shadow alters the way the moonlight reflected on the table, the movement instantly drawling Millicent’s gaze towards the dark corner of the room they were in. When the flash of wandlight reveals their face, they smirk, clearly pleased with themself.
Her question, one involving a time that seemed a millennia ago, pulls a small chuckle up from their chest. “Pretty sure it was something to the effect that if I screwed it up for you, I would be stuck behind a desk, staring at the four walls of the Apparation Test Centre for the rest of my career.“ Who would have guessed that that initial meeting, a brief exchange of jibes and carefully worded threats, would lead the two of them here, one an Undersecretary to the Minister, and the other an enemy of the Ministry themself.
Looking between the bottle of wine in Millicent’s one hand, and the raised wand in the other, they ask, brow arched in amusement, “So, have you decided it’s worth killing me yet, or are you finally going to offer me a glass?”
Several months into being friends with Alastor Moody, around the time Millicent realized she was friends with Alastor Moody, she’d figured out what being friends with Alastor Moody meant. It had started with a threat--you’ll be staring at the piss-yellow walls of the ATC for the rest of your goddamn career--and somehow sustained itself despite the inter-office rivalries between the Aurors and DMAC. The kind of friendship that sometimes involved heated words exchanged over custody of a scene or pursuit of a wix who hadn’t been declared Dark yet, but was halfway to the classification. Arguing with Alastor Moody was often the best mental workout Millicent got all month (and, though she’d never admit it back then, the most fun).
Millicent twisted her wand in her fingers, and another wine glass jumped out of the cabinet to join the first one in her hand. How Al made it through her wards was a burning question, but Millicent knew already that she’d never have an answer to that--this wasn’t the first time the smug Auror had slipped in through a metaphorical back door and grinned cheekily while Millicent checked her security system. They’d even had the confidence to reassure her it was a solid system, which was infuriating in its implications. Millicent had increased the wards since Al’s last visit and still here they were, clever as you please, proverbial cat with its cream and mouse too.
The least they deserved for their stunt was a glass of wine, and Millicent gestured them into the sitting room to set the glasses down and pour. The part of her soul that was ground down from serving Minister Riddle all week brightened up a bit, having a wanted criminal relaxing with a glass of wine in her flat. Of all the wanted criminals in her life, Al was probably the best company.
“I met your cub,” Millicent said, voice taking on a different timbre than she usually employed. Not as harsh; sounding less like the sharpened edge of a knife and more like the silk wrapped around it. Almost conversational and close to casual. “Or--pup, actually.” She descended into a chair opposite the one Al chose and regarded her friend. “Younger than I anticipated, given your glowing review.”
