Chapter Six
Things were different after that night at St. Mungo's, or perhaps Frank was just imagining it after the conversation on the curb. Alice seemed more reserved: she didn't complain about the paperwork, and she didn't goad him quite as much either. It was as if she were deliberately distancing herself from the working relationship they had, and he missed it. Did she not want to work with him now that she had seen action as his partner? Or was she just shaken, like he had been after the first time he had faced Death Eaters with Gawain?
Frank had made sure not to include any reference to her impulsive actions in Godric's Hollow, instead referring to everything that had happened as a mutual decision. Gawain had picked up on it almost instantly, however, and had given Frank the look until he'd told his former partner the real story while visiting St. Mungo's. Was Alice upset about it being her fault? Did she feel guilty for getting them into trouble? He had told her she'd done well and he had meant it; he didn't want to see her pull away because she might have made one mistake.
Or was it something else? He had wanted to lean over and kiss her when he had left her that night, had even taken a fraction of a step forward before realizing what he was doing. It was so sudden, so strong, so unexpected. He recognized an acute stress reaction when he had one, but it hadn't gone away: he still thought about it, every time he saw her. He tried not to, because he knew it was wrong and probably still a response to their intense experience together, but had she somehow sensed his feelings that night, when they had sat outside the hospital? Was she uncomfortable with him now because she didn't feel the same way?
At least they had a lead to work on, something to distract them from Lupin's death, Robard's absence, and the quick loss of the werewolf community to Voldemort's forces. Something had gone down in Godric's Hollow between Wilkes, Carrow, and their mysterious patron. They needed to track down the old man in the pub and try to figure out what it was.
Frank had gone into the office the next day with the envelope he had lifted from Wilkes's cloak. It had contained a single vial of some sort of white powder that Frank had immediately locked down with a Quarantine Spell and sent to the Potions lab. When he had gone down there later, however, he was told that it was not there. In fact, the witch he had handed it to had no memory of him ever being there, nor was there any record of him turning it in. They didn't seem concerned about it either, simply assuming he had misplaced it himself, but Frank was livid: it was their strongest lead on whatever was happening in Godric's Hollow, and now it was gone.
At least it wasn't their only clue: they knew two of the men involved and had got a good look at the third, so they combed through report after report, trying to identify the older man, to connect him to Wilkes or Carrow and gleam some idea of why he was exchanging an unidentified white powder with two suspected Death Eaters in a pub in Godric's Hollow.
There was a funeral for John Lupin at the end of the week, and they attended together both because Robertson had asked them to go, but also because they wanted to be there. They had spent two weeks with Lupin, after all, and had come to know and respect him. Gawain was still in the hospital, recovering from his injuries and unable to attend. John Dawlish was not there either; he had been into the office only twice since the attack and was recuperating at home. Alice said he was not doing well.
The service was crowded. Frank spotted Remus Lupin near the front, sitting with his friends from Hogwarts and an older man who looked more like one of them than a relative of the Lupins. Albus Dumbledore sat behind them with Alastor Moody, Joseph Robertson, and several others. As with most funerals, it was sad yet celebratory: John Lupin had accomplished much in his life to be speak of. Yet Frank sensed that most people were thinking more about the loss to the wizarding world and what Lupin's death would mean for the werewolves he had fought so hard for.
At the end of the service, Frank and Alice went up to offer their condolences. Frank wasn't sure what to say to someone who had just lost his father, as his own had died when he was only ten, but Remus was as calm and collected as he was in school. He shook hands with them both, thanking them for what they had done for his father. Frank could only nod wordlessly; it could have easily been him and Alice who had failed to protect John Lupin, instead of Dawlish and Robards. He once more swallowed his guilty relief that it wasn't.
They left Remus standing with the older man he had been sitting with, who introduced himself as Harrington Potter. James's father, then. James was standing with Sirius Black and a third boy--Peter Pettigrew, wasn't it?--slightly off to the side. Frank was about to turn toward them when he heard Alice sniff beside him. Glancing down, he saw her holding back tears.
He suddenly wanted to put his arm around her shoulder, but stuffed his hands into his pockets instead. "You all right?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question. She gave him a sad smile.
"I'm fine, really. Are you ready to go, though? I think I'd like to head back to the office now."
He nodded as they walked away. They passed Remus's friends with the quick wave of housemates who had not seen one another for several years. The three Gryffindors were engaged in a heated discussion: James Potter sounded upset, and Frank was fairly certain he heard Sirius Black say something about the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe they really were thinking about joining. They must have just finished N.E.W.T.s, so it was possible the Order would find its numbers growing within weeks.
Frank and Alice Apparated back to the Ministry and made their way to the Auror Office, silent the entire time. He wondered what she was thinking about, until they sat down and she gave him an unusually long, thoughtful look.
"What?" he finally asked, confused; she was not usually so quiet with her thoughts.
"We're not getting anywhere with anything," she said, and she sounded frustrated. "We don't have the vial, we don't know who the old man is, and we don’t know what's going on in Godric's Hollow."
"You are absolutely right," he replied with a frustrated sigh. "We know nothing. So do you have any brilliant ideas?"
"One. The old man gave Wilkes a vial of some sort of powder. Perhaps it was something that could be used in a potion, right?" When he nodded, she leaned forward and continued. "Then instead of flipping through more Auror reports looking for this guy, maybe we need to look for him somewhere else."
"Where?" Frank asked. "Godric's Hollow? Robertson doesn't want us going back there yet."
She waved away the suggestion. "No, something a bit closer. If our man was playing with powders, maybe he's an apothecary. So what we need is a list of apothecaries, and then we can start questioning them to see if anyone can point us to the man from Godric's Hollow."
Frank nodded approvingly, impressed with the suggestion; he should have thought of it himself. "We don't know for sure if he's any sort of potioneer, but it's something."
"If we don't find him in an apothecary, maybe someone will at least know him," she replied. "It's worth a try."
"It definitely is," he said, smiling at her and hoping it might give her some confidence back. "Good thinking."
"Thanks." She smiled. "Not that I minded having a relatively calm week after last weekend, but we're getting nowhere, and I'm getting bored."
Frank couldn't help but laugh: that was the Alice Hamilton he knew. "Come on, let's head down to the records division then. They should be able to help us with a list of apothecaries."
* * *
By Monday, they had their list, and with Robertson's permission they started canvassing every apothecary on it. When Frank had visited Gawain at St. Mungo's over the weekend, his former partner had also suggested trying to sketch a picture to take with them, to help in identifying the man from Godric's Hollow.
They started in Diagon Alley, but no one recognized the man in the portrait. Either it was too rough, or they were unwilling to identify the man. Alice suggested that perhaps the man had been out of the business for too long and they just hadn't talked to anyone old enough, but Frank did not remember him being quite that old, compared to some of the wizards they had spoken with; he found it more likely that if anyone did know the man in the picture, they were simply too frightened to admit it.
He was certain of it when they stepped into Knockturn Alley and entered a dodgy shop next to an even dodgier pub. An ancient white-haired wizard stood behind the dirty counter. When Frank showed him the picture, the apothecary's eyes widened slightly before he glanced up with a blank face. "I've never seen him, sorry."
"Yes, you have," Frank snapped, his patience worn thin after so many attempts, and the other wizard’s true reaction poorly concealed. "Who is he and where can we find him?"
"I wouldn't tell you if I knew," the man hissed. "And you can't force me."
"Actually, I can--" Frank started, but Alice interrupted him.
"Why wouldn't you tell us?" she asked, stepping in front off Frank as if she were afraid he might jinx the seedy apothecary. "If you knew him."
"If I knew him, I would tell you he's a dangerous man who doesn't appreciate his name being handed out to a bunch of green Aurors," the man replied.
"Great," muttered Frank, ignoring the insult. "That means no one will tell us then."
The apothecary shrugged. "I doubt it. Besides, if I knew him, I'd wager he's been out of the profession for too long for anyone to remember much about him." He was giving Alice a pointed look; she frowned and nodded.
"Right. Thank you, Mr. Burke. We appreciate your help."
"What help?" he asked, turning away.
"We appreciate your candor, then. Have a good day." She took Frank by the arm and guided him from the shop and back toward Diagon Alley. She seemed to be thinking deeply, so Frank was silent as they made their way back to the Ministry. For some reason he was on edge: the subtle touch on his arm had sent sparks through his body once more, and he felt like it was wrong to have such thoughts about his partner, even though he couldn't help it.
It was as they were leaving Knockturn Alley that he spotted two wizards deep in conversation outside a nearby shop. They were glancing around suspiciously, as if they did not want to be overheard, but Frank picked up something from their conversation about a requiem before they saw him and turned away. He was tempted to go after them--why would wizards be talking about some sort of requiem, it was a Muggle word--but he filed it away instead, deciding to concentrate on finding their mysterious potioneer first.
"You're thinking too hard," he finally grumbled to his partner as they entered the Ministry and headed toward the Auror office. "Are you going to tell me your big breakthrough or not?" She shook her head as if trying to clear it.
"I'm not sure. But that apothecary did tell us two things: the man we're looking for is considered dangerous, and he's been out of the potions business for a while. So we probably need to go back to the records division and dig a bit deeper to find him."
He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked getting out of the office?" he said.
"Oh, I doubt we'll find much of anything," she said with a rueful shrug. "And then we'll just have to go back out tomorrow."
He couldn't help but laugh as they reached their desks. They failed to find any more clues for the rest of the afternoon, however, and Frank returned the next day just as frustrated as ever. It had been almost a fortnight since their assignment in Godric's Hollow, and they had made little progress on anything, anywhere. There were two reports of the mysterious requiem whispers Frank had overheard in Knockturn Alley, but he couldn't concentrate on his own case let alone something so unrelated.
"Sod this!" he finally exclaimed, throwing down his quill in frustration halfway through the morning. Alice glanced up at him, a curious expression on her face. Why didn't she make some sarcastic remark about his temper, his look, even his personality? It bothered him that he missed it, but at least it had been something more than the pressing, guilty silence. He was beginning to think that he had wronged her in some way, but couldn't think of how, aside from the inappropriate thoughts he still couldn't shake.
"Everything all right?" she asked, then went back to the stack of parchments she was going through, yet even older records of registered apothecaries.
"No," he replied, standing and grabbing his robes. "Now I'm the one who needs to get out of here. Let's go." She eyed him in surprise; he knew he was not usually so impatient, but he couldn't help it.
"Where are we going?" Again the calm response. Boring. He had come to count on her more fiery personality to bring some life into his dull routine. He needed it back and would get a response from her if he had to goad it out of her.
"Early lunch," he said. "Hogsmeade. We can dig around up there, instead of in this stuffy office."
"And is that what Robertson ordered?" she asked curiously.
"No, it's what I ordered," he replied. "We're following a lead."
"What lead?"
"Whatever lead we find up there," he replied, daring her to challenge him.
She merely raised her eyebrows, but he saw the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips and just wished she'd let it out already. So she had messed up and he had broken his arm. He was fine. He wasn't angry, and at least they had something to work on thanks to her gaffe with the wizards in the pub and her ideas to follow up on it. She needed to stop beating herself up over it. Her guilt--if that was it--was starting to rub off on him.
She grabbed her robes as he left the office and headed down to the Atrium. They were silent in the lifts, until they stepped out and made their way toward the designated Apparition points. As they stood in the queue--apparently several other people had decided on an early lunch as well--she rocked back on her heels a bit and gave him a sly sideways glance.
"So Hogsmeade," she remarked casually. "The Three Broomsticks?"
He nodded once; she finally grinned.
"I certainly hope it's better than the last time you took me there." He couldn't help it: he grinned back, glad for one smart remark at last, even if it was about the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him all of seventh year.
"Why do you think I picked it?" he returned as flippantly as he could. It was his turn in the queue. "Time to make amends. See you there." He Apparated away with the surprised look on her face firmly in mind.
When he arrived at the Apparition point in Hogsmeade, he stepped away and took a deep breath to calm himself as he waited for Alice to arrive. It was an early summer afternoon, cloudy and cool, and the residents of Hogsmeade were out and about their regular business as they set off for the Three Broomsticks together. Yet Frank sensed an underlying tension that he had not felt the last time he had been there: the war was escalating.
He let his senses stay on alert, but tried not to convey his concern to Alice. He really did want to just get out of the office and enjoy lunch before continuing with their search for the old man they had seen in Godric's Hollow. He knew perfectly well he sometimes worked too hard, too obsessively on something. He needed a break from trying to track down Wilkes and his handler, and so did Alice. And he had decided he wanted to bring up their working relationship over the past few weeks. It was too awkward to continue the way it was.
They talked about small things as they walked, about Hogwarts and their classes and some of the memorable experiences they had shared there, from rowdy Gryffindor parties to losing the Quidditch Cup to Hufflepuff for the first time in years. They skirted around the one memory they had yet to mention past their first meeting back when they had become partners. And Alice still seemed distant, which made him wonder if it had been a bad idea to bring her there. Yet it also made him even more determined to ask her if everything was all right. He was her partner, after all, and he needed to be sure everything was straight between them or their lives could be in danger out in the field.
The Three Broomsticks was growing crowded as they entered, but they found a table in the back and ordered a light lunch from Madam Rosmerta. She gave them a rather pointed smirk, and he sighed; he shouldn't have been surprised, as their one and only date had been a rather spectacular disaster, even if it had happened four years ago. He knew Rosmerta still talked about it, considering she had mentioned it to him just about every time he'd come back to the pub since; he just hoped she didn't bring it up in front of Alice.
As they waited for their food, an awkward silence descended, and Frank was almost certain it had been a mistake to bring her to the Three Broomsticks, of all places. They had come on a date during a Hogsmeade weekend his seventh year, but so many things had gone wrong it was almost a wonder they had survived: a sudden storm on the way into town had left them soaked to the bone before they could cast an Umbrella Charm. A botched attempt to dry off had only embarrassed them both. A bouquet of yellow flowers purchased in apology had produced a violent allergic reaction. Lunch at the Three Broomsticks had been interrupted by a very jealous ex-boyfriend, resulting in a bar fight, several extra appendages, a trip to the hospital wing for a broken nose, and a month of detention. As well as a very pissed-off date and the end of any potential relationship: they hadn't spoken for the rest of the year.
"Look, I'm sorry about--" Frank finally started.
"I'm sorry I--" Alice began at the same time. She stopped.
"Right. You first," he said.
She shrugged as she toyed with a glass of water. "I don't know why we're even talking about it. It was four years ago."
"It was the worst date ever," Frank replied dryly. "I can't apologize enough." To his relief, she burst out laughing.
"It really was," she finally gasped out. "Especially the tail." Frank shook his head and shuddered: he had almost forgotten about that particular spell gone wrong.
"I know I apologized at the time, but I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it was such an awful first date."
She smiled at him. "I know. It wasn't your fault, not really. It was just really bad luck. And you have to admit, it's a good story to tell. I know Rosmerta likes to still tell it."
Frank rolled his eyes, and she gave him her victorious look, and just like that it was over: the awkward history between them was just that, history.
"Can I ask you something?" Frank finally approached the subject he'd been avoiding for days, hoping now was as good a time as any. She gave him a curious look before nodding in reply.
"Things have been…well, different since Godric's Hollow," he said, and to his embarrassment, he was so nervous he could hardly look her in the eye. "And I'm not sure why, only I want to be sure we're okay, because …well, we're partners, and we've got to be there for one another…especially if we…" He trailed off at the amused look on her face. "What?"
She set down her napkin and shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm not making fun. I understand."
"You do?" he asked. "Is there something wrong then? Something I said, something I did?" He hadn't meant to ask about the latter, but it slipped out with his fear that he had indeed done something wrong, something more than just thinking inappropriate thoughts about the woman he worked with.
"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "You haven't done anything at all."
He was relieved, but still felt like his concern was unanswered. "Then is anything else wrong?"
She was quiet as she looked away. "Maybe you were just right with what you said about the fire," she finally replied.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You said most people think they can handle it, but then they get burned." She pierced him with a very direct look. "Maybe I got burned a bit more than I thought."
Frank almost choked on his drink, because he that's how he felt every time he accidentally brushed against her: burned. And the look on her face could have meant the same thing, but surely it didn't. She must have been referring to…
"You mean in Godric's Hollow? At the pub?"
She shrugged noncommittally. "I thought I could handle Wilkes and his friend. I didn't think we'd end up ambushed by four Death Eaters in the street."
Frank couldn't help it: he reached across the table and took her hand and once again felt the heady rush he'd felt ever since they'd grasped hands at St. Mungo's. She glanced at him in surprise. "But I already told you: you did great. Really, I should have supported you more. You got us a good lead."
"No, you got the lead. I got us ambushed." She pulled her hand away, and he felt cold without it. Merlin, he was being overdramatic. He put his hands under the table.
"And now it's gone, so we've got your plan to follow through on." He sat back and tried to smile, but his heart was thumping wildly in his chest from the simple touch of her hand. "I'm not upset, if that's what you think."
She finally met his eyes and smiled. "I know. It's not that."
"Is it about Lupin? Dawlish and Robards?" he asked. He could understand how that would upset her; he'd been troubled about it as well, and he still felt guilty when he thought about how it could have been them, could have been her…
"A bit. John is still not talking about it much at all. He's really struggling--not himself at all." Frank stiffened. He knew she was good friends with Dawlish, but didn't know how close they were. Dawlish had still not returned to work full time, only coming into the Ministry a few times to meet with Robertson. Did Alice see John outside of the office? Why should that bother him?
"Gawain is still in the hospital," Frank said instead, not wanting to talk about John Dawlish. "But they'll both be all right. It's not our fault, what happened that night."
"It could have been," she pointed out, but he shook his head and stopped himself from reaching out to her again.
"It wasn't. Maybe we were just lucky, but it didn't happen to us. We can't keep thinking like that."
She nodded knowingly, a small smile playing at her lips. "So you feel that way too?"
"Sometimes." He tried to busy himself with his lunch, but she kept watching him. "Fine. Yes, I think about it. But we can't let it get to us, get in the way of our jobs, get in the way of our…" He trailed off at the amused look on her face. "Bollocks, I'm all over the place today, aren't I?"
She laughed and patted his hand, and he laughed with her in spite of the shiver that rippled through his entire body. "It's better than the first time we were here, though."
"Anything would be better than that," he replied, glad to move away from the awkward places the conversation threatened to take them. "Sometimes I'm still surprised you didn't run the other way when you found out we were partners."
She giggled. "I tried to get John to switch with me. He refused."
"Of course he did." Frank snorted. "I cleaned him out in Gobstones at least a dozen times."
"That's what he said," she laughed. "But he also said you were a damn good Auror and that I'd learn a lot."
He gave her a skeptical look, but she nodded earnestly. "Yes, he did. You should give yourself some credit, Frank."
"I don't need any credit," he said, brushing off the compliment. "But hopefully you've learned how to do paperwork and read reports, at least."
"I'm also learning how to make flimsy connections, how to track down insubstantial leads, and how not to get attacked in the street by Death Eaters," she replied with a bit of her old, familiar cheek.
"Then we're still partners?" he blurted without thinking, because he couldn't stand the thought that she might want to be reassigned now. The surprised look on her face told him that she had not been expecting such a question, and he tried not to stumble over his words any more than he already had. "It's just that I got the impression maybe you didn't want to work together anymore, after what happened last week."
"I don't," she replied, then shook her head as he felt his heart go cold and knew it shown on his face. "No, I mean I do--I do want to work with you, because I don't want another partner." A nervous laugh told him she was just as uncomfortable as he was. "Sorry, now who's really mucking it up?"
"No, I understand," he said, hoping he sounded sincere. "We just need to get back to where we were. Before all this stuff threw us off." He meant it in more than one way, but he could never say anything, so he tried to bury it once more.
"Right. All this stuff." She finished her drink and set it down with a determined look on her face. "And that means finding that old man and figuring out what was in that envelope."
Frank left some money on the table before she could offer to pay; he stood and motioned toward the door. "Then let's visit some more apothecaries, shall we?"
They left the Three Broomsticks much as they had come in, talking and laughing about their years at Hogwarts, but this time there was no distance between them, no awkwardness as there had been when they had entered. As Frank walked past the bar, Rosmerta caught his eye and gave him a wink; he ignored it. It wasn't what she thought, anyway.
They were working partners, and at least he knew they would be staying that way.
* * *
Love and Order by Gmariam
Chapter Endnotes: Thank you, karaleydargen!