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strangeness & charm.
act one, are you satisfied?
chapter two, an (un?) pleasant surprise.

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NORA CLEARY
the ministry of magic
june 1994

AN ALMIGHTY THUD sent Nora three feet into the air, and someone, somewhere, fell out of their chair.

The paper clip, warped from Nora's thirty minutes of self-proclaimed metalworking, slipped silently from her grasp onto the carpet as she straightened in her chair immediately, her wide eyes pinned to the stack of papers now sat on the desk in front of her.

"What-" She began, her wide eyes traveling from the mountain of pages to Leanne Midhurst standing behind it, whose expression could have turned milk sour.

"Waivers. For the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently, Bagman approved use of a Muggle family's land and no one in Fudge's department bothered to tell us until today, so now we've got to have all these wavers signed by the end of the week or fifteen-thousand people will be suing us rather than attending the World Cup," Leanne said sharply, dropping her eyes distastefully to the stack.

Nora scoffed softly, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Well, by all means, allow me to be the one to disappoint half of Britain if I can't get these signed by the end of the week."

As if possible, Leanne's face turned an even deeper shade of upset, and Nora's playful expression, and her stomach, fell immediately.

"Actually, you'll need to get them done by the end of the day. Signing them is just the first part. After that, they've got to be notarized and scanned and– well, I won't bore you with the details, but rest assured, if they don't get signed, you won't be the only one who's let half of Britain down and been left without a job."

An odd, strangled, choking noise echoed from the back of Nora's throat, and it took everything within her to keep from losing her composure.

"Oh. Thanks, Leanne. That means a lot," She replied calmly, plastering a wan smile on her mouth.

Leanne didn't seem to sense Nora's sarcasm as she simply sighed and took a hand through her hair before clearing her throat. Shaking her head slightly as if to rid herself of any unwanted, stressful thoughts, she turned back to face Nora with a small smile.

"You've got this. Easy peasy." The forced, encouraging tone in Leanne's voice made Nora want to reach out and strangle her.

"Right," Nora said slowly, her eyes following Leanne as she ventured toward the door to the corridor.

"I'm going on lunch break. I'll be back in a few hours. Kill it!" Leanne called as she pressed her shoulder into the door and wedged it open.

"Yep!"

The door closed with a mockingly cruel bang and with a great, exhausted roll of her eyes, Nora swiveled in her chair to face the back wall of the room before allowing her face to fall into her hands and her composure to crumple. A soft groan escaped her lips, muffled by the padding of her palms.

"Do you want to kill her or shall I?"

Beckoned by the sound of a familiar voice, Nora lifted her head slightly from its hold in her hands and turned just enough in her seat to face the woman sat at the desk opposite her, whose sickeningly gleeful grin was enough to have Nora ready to rip her hair out.

Straightening, and facing her desk once more, Nora leveled Bonnie a death glare.

"Debating on it. I, personally, would love to watch you whack her across the head with a frying pan but I'm afraid I'd be charged as an accomplice and — as much as I do love you — I think I'd rather drown myself than sit in prison with you for the rest of my life."

Bonnie pressed a dramatic hand to her chest, pouting her lips and furrowing her eyebrows as though mortally, emotionally wounded.

"And they say love is dead," She crooned, before proceeding to lean back wistfully in her chair, her eyes trained on the ceiling as though she were inches from death.

"They say romance is dead — love is uncharted territory. There's a difference," Nora pointed out, reluctantly reaching forward to grasp the edge of the top page of the stack between her fingers.

Bonnie's dramatic display ceased at Nora's words, and Bonnie's eyes fell from the ceiling to flatten Nora with a disapproving glower. Nora's gaze dropped from her friend to the waiver sitting on the surface in front of her to avoid the glare being sent in her direction.

"Forgive me if I'm not itching to chart it," the Taylor girl scoffed, before leaning forward to take the page on the top of Nora's pile and setting it on her own desk.

"Not sure if I can forgive you for that, Bon."

"Wanker."

The scratching of Nora's quill against the thick scroll paused as she glanced at Bonnie, the ghost of a smirk tugging on the corner of her mouth.

"Please, wait until at least two o'clock to start name-calling. My ego can only take so much," She said, pressing her lips together in a grim line.

Bonnie sighed once again, drawing her quill against the form with a flair before setting the page to the side and reaching forth to take another from the stack.

"Too late, dear, you're the third wanker in two hours."

Nora couldn't help the snort that left her nostrils as she set aside her fourth signed waiver. "Shocking."

"Isn't it just?"

The women fell into a comfortable silence with only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, the hum of the lifts in the corridors a few meters distance from their office door, and the light, drawn-out scratching of quills as their companions. Their coworkers, as usual, had abandoned their desks in retreat to their lunch breaks, leaving Bonnie and Nora alone in the quiet of the empty office.

Just beyond the large, ceiling-to-floor window to their left that overlooked the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, hundreds of beige newspapers flapped past the gargantuan fountain placed in the center of the lobby with the movements of a large flock of migrating geese.

Those who strolled (no, more like sprinted) just below the flock appeared to have walked into a mighty gust of wind, as one particular Ministry worker's hair twisted and writhed in the air behind her head. As the newspapers neared the first row of lifts, they suddenly, and quite violently, launched further into the air in a straight line, almost like magma erupting from a volcano, before drifting gracefully into neat stacks on the newsboy's table beside the lift.

The moment they did so, the newsboy, who looked no older than seventeen, grabbed a paper from the top of a stack and began waving it wildly, his mouth moving at the speed of sound as he hopped around the table like a rabbit might, coercing passersby to buy a paper. Just a normal day.

Several more minutes passed, and the mountain of paperwork placed in the middle of the two women's desks (Bonnie had moved it for easier access) finally seemed to have been damaged with at least a fourth of it signed and discarded to the side.

Bonnie's eyes, almost without instruction, lifted as she was mid-stroke to settle on the woman sitting across from her. Nora's eyebrows were knitted in concentration as she slowly (and obnoxiously, Bonnie thought) drew her quill across her page in complete perfection. An involuntary snort left the Taylor girl as she watched Nora's painstakingly slow, yet perfect, handwriting.

Bonnie's eyes flickered between the page and her friend once more before she sighed and dropped her quill, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"D'you recall the other day when we talked about how everyone's got a purpose?" Her inquiry bounced off the walls of the small, four-walled room and had Nora looking up from the page with a quizzing brow.

    "Course."

    Bonnie paused to run her tongue over her bottom lip in contemplation.

    "Well, I've been thinking. I–" The Taylor girl paused again, causing Nora to raise an eyebrow.

    Bonnie watched her for a moment more, then sighed. "Quite frankly, Nora, if I have to watch you sigh at another stack of parchment like it personally insulted you, I'm going to stage an intervention – well, I suppose this is just that–"

"Bonnie–"

"You were not put on this earth to die in a pile of paperwork," Bonnie interrupted loudly, placing a finger up to silence Nora.

"Pardon?" Nora echoed and placed her quill gently on the tabletop.

"You heard me. You belong out in the world, not responding to memos from idiots who can't tell their arse from their brain. Seeing the sights! Interviewing hot quidditch stars and taking them home with you afterward—" Bonnie began passionately, "—and quite frankly, so do I! Damn it, life is so unfair."

"Okay, look—"Nora interjected, but fell silent upon seeing Bonnie's distaste of the interruption.

"Hello, I wasn't finished. How you sit in this office day after day pretending to enjoy it when we all know you're itching to do more than sign ninety-five wavers for the bloody Quidditch World Cup is beyond me," Bonnie stated as a matter of factly, cocking an eyebrow as if challenging Nora to dispute her.

Nora hesitated for a moment, pulling her hands into her lap. If there was one thing Nora knew as if it were gospel, it was that in the course of Bonnie Taylor's life, the girl had likely been wrong in her assumptions around ten percent of the time.

"Well, perhaps you just lack the creativity to imagine my reasoning behind it," she supplied, earning a scoff from Bonnie.

"One does not need an imagination to see that you're miserable, you twat. It's sad, really. I think you've started blending into the office decor. One day, someone's going to mistake you for a filing cabinet."

    "At least filing cabinets are useful," Nora substantiated, lifting her eyebrows to further her point.

Nora contemplated for a moment, then leaned back in her chair, releasing a heavy sigh from deep within her chest.

"It's what I can do, Bonnie. I can come in here every day and contribute what I have to contribute, and then I can go home, feed the dog, sleep, and repeat. Does it mean it's what I want to do? Certainly not, but if you haven't noticed, I'm..." Nora paused, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth before continuing, "categorically limited."

Understanding dawned on Bonnie, and she pursed her lips tightly.

"Really? Merlin, Nora, Aunt Gertrude has you on such a tight leash you ought to be suffocated by now."

    Nora laughed dryly. "You have no idea."

"Yeah, well, you'd better keep dear old Auntie Gertrude as far away from me as possible or she might end up in St. Mungo's permanently," Bonnie snapped, and Nora swore she saw a muscle jump in her friend's jaw.

"You know, I'd pay to see that," Nora replied, smirking slightly as she imagined Bonnie, previously a beater on her Hogwarts team, squaring up to her Aunt, who'd never seen a day of physical activity in her whole, miserable life.

"I'll bet you would."

Nora fell silent in thought and looked toward the window before glancing back at Bonnie.

"I'm going to get my big break, Bon. I know I am. I just don't want to force it. If the opportunity comes along, I would consider it, but for now, I'm content sitting here signing wavers. And anyways, you're doing the same as I am. What about your big break?"

Bonnie clicked her tongue sharply.

"I've got to have at least four years of this for my resume if I want to work for the International Quidditch League. My big break won't be for another decade," She responded with a dry chuckle. Then, her eyes found Nora's once more.

"Besides, we're talking about you, here. You're... content. But you can be more than that. You're just scared shitless of your Aunt."

A pang of guilt for her meekness towards her aunt struck Nora in the stomach, but she shrugged it back.

"Who isn't?"

"Me."

A chuckle reverberated from Nora's throat, and she clicked her tongue as she straightened in her chair once more.

"Mhm."

Bonnie watched with wide, serious eyes as Nora began pulling pages from the stack again, and she placed her hands flat on her desk before leaning forward slightly.

"I'm dead serious, Nora. Get me fifteen seconds in a boxing ring with that woman and I'd have her flat out before the time's up—"

Nora made no attempt to stop the laugh that escaped her lips as she shook her head.

"Okay, okay, Frank Bruno, you're ten pages behind," she said, referencing Bonnie's stack of signed pages compared to her own.

"Whatever. I'm just saying. I totally would," Bonnie said begrudgingly, leaning forward once more and plucking her quill into her grasp.

"I know."

...

The thud echoed against the thin walls as Nora dropped the signed stack of papers against the wood of Leanne Midhurst's desk, causing the blonde to start from where she'd been previously engrossed in a cauldron-sized phone book. Leanne's browline-shaped glasses slid at least an inch down the bridge of her nose as she jutted her chin forward, eyebrows raised, to grasp a better look at Nora's delivery.

Nora tried not to slam the pile as Leanne had done. However, as she'd begun to place the papers down, a spiteful wave of energy had shot down her arm, causing her hand to gas forward and slap the material with more force than she'd intended.

"Well, here they are. All ninety-five pages plus a list of on-call notaries to contact when you need," Nora supplied, wincing slightly as she analyzed Leanne's expression in reaction to her previous assault on the woman's desk.

If Leanne was put off by the unnecessary force in the placement of the pages, she showed no sign of it, instead allowing her shoulders to sag and a light smile to grace her lips.

"Oh, Nora. You're an angel in human form, I hope you know that," she proclaimed, placing her hands on either side of the stack and pulling it towards her chest.

"It's no problem, really. It's my job," Nora stated plainly, wincing again as she heard the sarcasm in her voice before she could stop it from leaving her mouth.

Again, Leanne didn't appear to notice. "Well, yes. Of course. Thank you."

"Sure, Leanne."

Nora turned on her heel to leave when she was halted by the sound of Leanne's beckoning.

"Oh, before you go-?"

Nora turned to face her boss once more, her eyebrow raised in question. Leanne gave a close-lipped smile before gesturing to the armchair positioned across from her desk.

"Please, have a seat." Nora's face must have slacked at her words because Leanne immediately shook her head and swatted her hand lightly in the air. "You can wipe that 'oh no, my boss just asked me to have a seat in a you're fired voice' look off your face. It's nothing like that."

Nora hesitated, watching her boss's expression carefully. Leanne watched her patiently, but expectantly.

"Oh," was all she said before taking her seat slowly in the armchair and folding her hands in her lap.

Leanne leaned back in her chair and tilted her head with a small smile before resting her elbows on the arms of her desk chair.

"Nora, you've been working here for what, close to three years?"

Nora recounted the time frame in which she'd been at the Ministry – she'd begun her internship in her sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Yes, including the internship."

Leanne nodded.

"And you've worked beneath me for, what, would you say about half that time?"

"That sounds right."

With a deep inhale and exhale, Leanne leaned forward.

"Right. Well, let me be quite frank. When Barty Crouch came to me a year ago and told me about this fiery new intern fresh out Hogwarts that I just had to hire, I was skeptical. I thought, well, Barty, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit swamped with this whole Cup case you've dumped on me and y'know, a pregnancy, but sure. I thought, I'll hire this new intern, and when she inevitably flames out or quits, I can show Barty just how idiotic and wrong he is. But, you didn't, by some bloody miracle because believe me, the seven interns before you had certainly set a precedent. This work is grueling and honestly, very boring, but you stuck to your guns, and Nora..."

Nora's gaze had fallen to intently gaze at her hands as she'd listened to her boss's words, and upon the call of her name, her gaze snapped to meet Leanne's.

"I admire it."

Nora nearly smiled.

"But you don't belong here."

The start of a smile on Nora's expression fell instantly, her eyebrows drawing together as she processed the woman's words. An anxious knot in her stomach began twisting, gnawing at her insides as though it had grown a mind and realized it was starving.

"I don't understand."

"You don't belong here," Leanne elaborated with emphasis, waving her hand in a circular motion around the room to gesture to the space. "Not with the coffee runs and waiver signing and grueling non-paid hours. You belong out. Somewhere. Making a difference with that fire in you, because if you stay here much longer, that fire is going to die and I would rather cut off my left arm than watch that happen."

The intensity of Leanne's gaze burned holes through Nora's forehead, and the anxious pit in her stomach grew ravenous. The similar words of Bonnie from earlier that day echoed in the back of her mind. Do you enjoy signing waivers?

As Nora pondered her boss's words and did her best to keep the gnarling knot in her stomach from eating her alive, Leanne leaned back, reaching for something behind a large stack of books, and returned forward with a thin, red envelope. If not for the gold plating on its edges, Nora would have thought it was a Howler.

In one motion, Leanne leaned forward and dropped the envelope at the edge of the desk to which Nora sat nearest. Then, she leaned back once more and crossed her arms over her chest.

Nora's gaze fell to the piece of folded paper now sitting in front of her.

"What's this?" She asked, her eyes flitting up to meet Leanne's watchful gaze.

"It was delivered to my desk last week, from the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. Harlan Veryan, the team manager, and I know each other from way back at Hogwarts. He's inquiring about candidates for a new, highly classified position."

Nora inhaled sharply, and Leanne watched her every move.

"Turns out, each of his players has their own managerial staff. Just a person or two to oversee their public personas, training schedules, and such. Viktor Krum is evidently missing a staff person."

The pit in Nora's stomach was nearly ready to erupt.

"Harlan says the last one came down with Dragon Pox, and well... I'm sure you can guess..." Leanne trailed off, a somber look crossing her face.

Nora's eyebrows furrowed as she looked to the envelope once more, her every nerve screaming, fighting at her to not get ahead of herself. Still, she couldn't help the hopeful spark that shot through her spine like fireworks.

"So... you're giving it to me... to..."

"To apply for the position yourself," Leanne stated blankly.

The hopeful spark nearly burst into flames, before a crashing tidal wave of repressed doubt and crippling fear wracked Nora's body like a typhoon.

"Leanne, I c–" She began, but Leanne held her hand up so abruptly, it had Nora flinching.

"If you tell me you can't, I will throw this book at you," Leanne threatened, allowing her hand to fall to the pages of the phone book she'd been pouring over before Nora had entered earlier.

Nora shook her head, and as much as she wanted to hope, and as much as her body now screamed at her to do this, to take this chance, the crushing voice of her Aunt in her ear disparaging her was enough to have her pinned firmly in her seat.

"You don't understand. I mean, I have a life—a family, here, and I—I can't move to Bulgaria–"

Okay, so using her family as an excuse was lousy on her part, Nora refused to admit that her denial of Leanne's proposal was solely based on fear.

Leanne tutted, shaking her head slowly, and though her physical language was disapproving, her eyes remained gentle. "How can you expect to make a name for yourself if you let anything and everything keep you in one place for the rest of your life? I'm sure your family would encourage you to do this."

Leanne's words, rather than Gertrude's, now had Nora pinned to her seat. She's right, you know, Nora thought. You can't sign waivers forever.

"Leanne–" Nora began in protest, but Leanne held out a halting hand once again.

"Nora."

Nora let out an exasperated sigh, more-so at herself for sitting there, declining the offer when she should have been snatching the envelope off the table.

"Take it. At least think about it. But I'd better see you in here by the end of the week mailing out a filled-in application," Leanne stated, and from the tone of her voice, Nora knew there'd be no arguing with her.

There was a pause. Nora stared at the envelope as though it might grow teeth and bite off her hand, and Leanne stared at Nora, awaiting a response.

"I need to hear you agree to at least that or I'll lock us up in this office until you do," Leanne spoke after a few seconds before exhaling sharply when Nora finally met her eye.

"I'll think about it."

A grin erupted across Leanne's features, and hesitant though Nora was about agreeing to consider the offer, she couldn't stop that hopeful spark in her chest from igniting once more.

"But I'm not promising anything," she added hurriedly, a small smile forcing its way onto her lips without her permission.

Leanne nodded quickly, the grin still plastered on her mouth.

"That's all I need to hear. You can go, now."

Gravity tugged at Nora's limbs as she stood, and she made her way toward the door. An invisible force somewhere within her body stopped her as her hand reached for the door handle, and she turned slightly, glancing toward her boss, who had resumed her critical scouring of the phone book.

"Thank you, Leanne."

...

The London air was cold despite the summer air surrounding the city during daylight. A frigid wind swept the hair on the back of Nora's neck from its warm hold against her scarf, sending finger-like chills down her spine.

Her steps were light and hurried as she ascended the old, stone steps to her flat building in an effort to escape the cold as soon as possible.

The building, a classic brick townhome with white, wooden framing along the door and three stories of paned, curtained windows, stood identical to the row of eight homes on either side and was only identifiable to Nora by the gold-plated number 17 that reflected the last remainder of the sun's rays into her eyes.

Shoving her key into the old, rusted lock, she pressed all of her weight against the bulky, wooden door and clenched her teeth together against the chill before the door finally gave way and creaked open.

Nora hurried inside, all but slamming the door closed, and let out a long witheld sigh as she shrugged her coat off and hung it loosely on the singular coat hook nailed into the wall behind the doorframe.

The jingling of a bell, faint at first, grew louder, and within seconds, the small, round figure of a rust-colored lap dog came into view. Nora's expression, previously tired and grotesque, warped into a wide smile.

"Buddy buddy, Bagel!"

The pomeranian wagged his tail ferociously and with each wag, the dog's rear end swung to each side so viciously that it seemed close to falling off completely.

"There's my sweet boy."

Nora knelt to Bagel's level with a wide smile, and the moment she was within reach, he vaulted himself into her waiting arms. All anxieties of the day melted away the moment the plush fur brushed against her hands.

"Whatcha been up to?"

Bagel whined in response.

"You don't say. You threw a party without me? Bagel, how could you? Oh–! D'you hear that? It's my heart breaking because you partied all day long and didn't invite me. I'm hurt."

"Woof."

...

"I will not have you thinking in front of the neighbors, Richard."

The plasma television danced with visions of vibrant colors and a running six hour marathon of Patricia Routledge. The low volume edged its way across the room to Nora, who had been passed out between the sofa cushions, eight pillows, three throw blankets, and a half-eaten bucket of popcorn for the better part of the evening.

She had made it approximately five steps into the kitchenette seven hours prior before making the unconscious decision to do exactly nothing for the rest of the night except enjoy a good binge of Keeping Up With Appearances and stress-eat an entire box of microwave popcorn. Did the said unconscious decision have anything to do with escaping from the unopened envelope with the Ministry seal sitting on the coffee table three feet away from her? Without question.

Midnight had long since passed the city. Soft snores left Nora as she fell further into an already deep sleep, and it became quite obvious that not even an atomic bomb could have woken her. Even the erratic honking in the street beneath her window caused by a sleep-phobic lunatic did not stir her in the slightest.

The fluffy ball of fur curled near her hip, however, jolted awake at the unwelcome interruption. Bagel let out an unsettled grunt as he stretched his stubby limbs and looked sleepily around the room. His beady eyes landed on the white, rectangular envelope resting on the table in front of him that was most certainly a page from the newspaper Nora had collected that morning.

The dog tread carefully between Nora's slumbering figure and the edge of the sofa and hopped off of the cushion and onto the coffee table. No more than twenty seconds passed before the sound of ruthless scratching slowly dragged Nora from her dreams. Sleepily, she lifted her head and allowed her eyes to slightly squint open.

The moment she did so, she was scrambling from beneath the covers faster than she'd ever moved in her life. Before Bagel could cause further damage to the envelope she'd dropped without thought, she snatched the piece of parchment from his grasp and clutched it to her chest.

"Bagel!"

Her voice, still ridden with sleep, escaped her throat like a strangled scream. With wide eyes, she stared at the dog standing on the glass tabletop with small shreds of white paper between his teeth.

Nora strained as she struggled to force more words from her mouth. Stunned, she loosened her grip on the envelope and allowed her gaze to fall to the ink on the front. Though mangled from Bagel's attack, the print was still slightly legible. Top Secret.

A great sigh left her chest. She couldn't will her eyes to tear away from the words, nor could she ignore the gnawing boulder in her stomach that hadn't dissipated since she'd spoken to Leanne that afternoon. Nora knew she should've been excited. She should have been tearing down the rafters, bouncing off the walls, screaming to all of London that all of her dreams were coming true. And yet... she couldn't seem to push past the guilt-laden brick wall inside her chest.

A bark sounding from a few feet away snapped her attention away from the parchment and back to the dog who had no concept of the damage he nearly caused.

"No, sir," Nora spoke firmly and pointed a finger in Bagel's direction. The dog whimpered softly, so unused to being spoken to with anything other than a baby voice.

Nora sighed again and dropped her temple into her palm.

"What do you think I should do, bud?"

Bagel simply whined lowly.

"You're no help."

author's note.
and so it begins 😈

thank you for reading!