"Blood Sisters" Part 2 (Amelia Bones, Olivia Mansfield ['M'])
Author: Anonymous
Prompt/Prompt Author:"I know something of a woman in a man's profession. Yes, by God, I do know about that." (Elizabeth I, Shakespeare in Love)
Amelia's just been made head of Magical Law Enforcement. One of her assignments is to liaise with the Muggle MI6 over the Voldemort threat. She and "M" bond (no pun intended) over being the first women in their respective professions. Maybe they comiserate over having to deal with talented rogues like Bond and Moody (or Dumbledore?) / Squibstress
Title: "Blood Sisters"
Characters:Amelia Bones/Olivia Mansfield ("M")
Rating:PG13
Warnings:Character death, reference to extreme violence, angst.
Word Count:13,500 or so
Summary:Amelia Bones finds common ground with her Muggle counterpart. Each of them finds a friend.
Author's Notes:The HP characters are portrayed as inspired by book canon. "M" is of course from movie canon. 007 is more book than movie, and more Daniel Craig than any of the others. Everyone is of course my own interpretation of them, and whatever canon departures there may be are mine. I absolutely loved this prompt, Squibstress, and I hope that the story at least resembles what you had in mind.
My thanks to my relentless betas, who made this much better than it was.
Part 1
Part two of "Blood Sisters"
"We'll go right after breakfast, Olivia," Amelia informed her as she poured the tea. "I'm afraid that it is merely scones with strawberries and Devonshire Cream with a bit of bacon for breakfast, but we will have ample opportunity to supplement that later on. I realize this is not a typical country breakfast, but the strawberries were particularly fine, and I do scones passably well. I hope that you aren't too disappointed."
"Never," Olivia said sternly, "use the term 'merely', in connection with scones with strawberries, Devonshire Cream, and bacon in my presence again, nor apologize for offering it at any time whatsoever, or I shall set 007 on you. Now give it over and get out of the way."
Amelia smiled in pleasure at the obvious relish with which Olivia ate her breakfast. In truth, the menu was Amelia's personal favourite, and she was gratified to see that her friend enjoyed it as well.
"Another scone, Olivia?"
"I can't. I want to, desperately, but I simply cannot. I must have that recipe for Babette. I have never had a scone to match these."
"It's an old family secret," Amelia demurred.
"I'm a spy master. You can't possibly hide it from me, so you might as well give in with good grace."
"Very well. One must choose one's battles wisely. I'll make you a copy, but do keep it to Babette," Amelia requested.
"On my word. The rest of the world simply does not deserve it. I'll just freshen up a bit and then I'll be ready to face the terrors of Apparition on a blissful stomach," Olivia said.
"I'm afraid there will be a bit more to it than that, Olivia. Where we are going Saville Row will stand out like a clown suit at Winchester Cathedral. We'll find you something suitable from my wardrobe."
"It won't have stars and moons on it, will it? Please tell me there will be no stars and moons," Olivia pleaded.
It was merely Hufflepuff black and gold.
"Are you ready?"
"No. But carry on."
They appeared beside a nondescript brick wall.
"Bloody hell! I shall be most cross if that lovely breakfast winds up on the paving, and forgive me, Amelia," Olivia said, looking at the wall, "but this is something less than fascinating."
"Patience, Olivia."
Amelia produced her wand and tapped a brick. The brick quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
"Welcome", said Amelia, "to Diagon Alley."
They stepped through the archway and into a world that met most of Olivia's expectations of what witches and wizards would be. Pointy hats, brooms, cauldrons, a shop that sold actual magic wands, and an apothecary that sold...
"Dragon liver, Amelia? Dragons are real too?"
"Indeed, as are merpeople, centaurs, hippogriffs, elves, fairies, werewolves, vampires, and all sorts of other living beings that you thought were myths. Oh, and giants, mustn't forget the giants. Many of them are not quite what you might expect, though. Centaurs look much like the pictures you've likely seen, as do giants, but -- well, we shall just have to drop by the bookshop and show you," Amelia said.
"Is she an elf? That blonde woman coming this way, I mean," Olivia asked. "She's stunning."
"No, she's a veela. Elves are tiny things with enormous eyes and ears. I suppose your image of elves came from books?"
"Yes, and I can see that all this is going to take more than one day to absorb, Amelia," Olivia said as she took in the strange sights around her.
"Likely, yes. We can take a quick turn 'round the Alley and then return to any place you like, does that suit?" Amelia asked.
"A fine idea, although I could do with a bit of refreshment before we start."
"Well then, I know just the place, and as the students are in school it shouldn't be too crowded. Really, just before the start of term there isn't room to swing a Kneazle here," Amelia said.
"Kneazle?"
"Oh, the things you will see! But first, ice cream."
Amelia was thrilled at Olivia's reaction thus far, the open wonder she displayed showed how comfortable she was with her. Amelia looked forward to sharing her world with her friend, and it would let her see things with new eyes as well.
"I haven't been in an ice-cream parlour in ages," Olivia said as they sat at one of the tables in Florean Fortescue's. "What a lovely place. Do they have many flavours here? I don't see a menu."
"There is no menu," Amelia told her.
"I suppose the server tells us what flavours are available, then?"
"Olivia, every flavour is available. Magic, remember? Just let your imagination run wild, why don't you?"
Amelia stuck with her favourite, spiced pumpkin with raisins soaked in rum, while Olivia fulfilled a childhood dream with mulberry - Supercrema ripple.
"How marvellous! I almost feel like a girl again," Olivia said after her first taste.
"Well, let us be two girls on an outing, then. Properly decorous girls, of course, but there's no reason we can't have a bit of fun so long as our jobs leave us alone, is there?"
"None that I can see, Amelia."
Olivia was fascinated by the books in Flourish and Blotts; by the fantastic creatures she saw in their pages, and they spent quite some time in there. She stopped by a display marked "remainders" and looked at the piles of books, all with the same man on the cover.
"This chap doesn't seem to be selling very well," Olivia said.
"He used to top the best-seller lists, but it developed that he was rather lying about having actually done the things in the books. That is, the bits that weren't made up out of whole cloth. He set himself up as a sort of adventurer or wandering hero who roamed the world fighting the forces of darkness. The man did know his memory charms, though," Amelia explained.
"I see. Well, he looks like a bit of a ponce, anyway. Fine dental work, though. Where to next?"
"Let's see about getting you a proper set of robes, shall we? If you're going to be touring the magical world you should have suitable clothes. You are of course welcome to anything of mine, but the fit isn't all that it could be."
"A splendid idea, but do they take my sort of money here?" Olivia asked.
"We can change some at Gringotts bank..."
"Goblins, actual goblins," Olivia said as they emerged from Gringotts. "I have to say they did look a bit like I had imagined. Not a terribly friendly lot, though, are they, Amelia?"
"Relations are a bit strained between us, yes. They have small love for wizardkind, and not without reason, I admit."
"Magic or Muggle, people will always find an axe to grind. Let's go shopping, we can sort out the world when we're back on the clock."
The presence of Amelia Bones ensured prompt and courteous service, and before very long Olivia had a lovely set of robes in a very deep blue.
"Thank you, Madam Malkin, these are simply beautiful, and the fit is perfect. I've never worn anything quite so comfortable," Olivia said.
"That's always good to hear. Thank you for your custom, and do tell your friends, please," she replied.
"Not bloody likely," Olivia said softly to Amelia once they were back on the street.
"Best not to, yes," Amelia agreed.
Amelia also thought it best to avoid the apothecary, but they briefly toured most of the others. Olivia was fascinated by the owl post office, but her favourite place was Flourish and Blotts, followed closely by Fortescue's.
"What's down that way?" Olivia asked as they passed a narrow side street.
"Knockturn Alley, not a place for us. The shops and people there are on the dark side of magic. We raid it occasionally, and I'm not very popular there, I'm afraid."
"I see. Well, in any event, it's getting late. Is there someplace we can have dinner here?"
"There's the Leaky Cauldron, and it's not a bad pub. I don't suppose Tom will mind it too much if my presence drives away a few of his dodgier customers," Amelia answered.
Tom politely conducted them to a table in a dark corner, and left to get their drinks.
"He's tucked us away nicely," Olivia said with a smile.
"He's a businessman, after all. What do you fancy for dinner?"
"Is this like the ice-cream parlour?" Olivia asked.
"No, but they do have the usual sort of pub food," Amelia told her.
"Might as well do it up right and have fish and chips, then. Oh. They will be normal fish, won't they? I shouldn't like to have the thing start talking or something, Amelia."
"No, they're quite normal fish," Amelia promised.
"Two fish and chips, please, Tom," Amelia said when their drinks arrived.
"Very good, Madam Bones."
Olivia looked around the room, now her eyes had adjusted to the dim light. It did indeed look much like any other pub, barring the clientele's dress. Then her eyes lit on a figure at the end of the bar.
"There, at the end of the bar nearest the front. Now that's what I thought a witch would look like," Olivia said.
"What on earth did your mother read to you when you were a child, Olivia? That's a hag."
"The usual sort of bedtime tales, witches fattening children up to make pies out of them, poisoning apples and such," Olivia told her.
"Oh, well that's true enough," Amelia said.
"Really?" Olivia asked.
"No, goose, not really. Well, not commonly, any road."
"This has been a day of surprises," Olivia said, shaking her head.
Tom arrived with their food, and while not the match of Amelia's shepherd's pie, much less Babette's food, it was nonetheless quite edible. Hot, crisp, and just greasy enough to be authentic.
All-in-all, a most interesting and enjoyable day, and Olivia was still smiling when she hung her new robes in the wardrobe. They were not actually so very different from her Oxford ones, were they?
<<<>>>
As the weeks passed, Amelia and Olivia saw each other frewquently. They dined together whenever they could, and seized any opportunity for an overnight visit. Midweek meals were usually taken at Olivia's. They enjoyed dining out, but, as they had not found a chef to match Babette, they usually opted for the superior cuisine. Olivia was a bit amused at the growing attraction between Amelia and Babette. Both of them thought they were being very subtle, but insofar as Olivia was concerned they might as well have been skywriting. Babette could make "Madame Bones" sound like a proposition. Olivia did remain absolutely mute on the subject, however.
Overnight stays were most often at Amelia's place, it felt more private and cozy, and there was the little pub...
"Same again, barmaid," Olivia said with a satisfied sigh.
"You seem to have taken quite a liking to Ogden's, Olivia."
"Splendid stuff. I still like my Talisker, but knowing that 007 can't get this adds to the savour."
"And you call me a witch. Some nerve you have, Olivia Mansfield."
Olivia shrugged.
"What would we do without the small pleasures? God, I love this place, Amelia. For a time I can forget the ugliness and gain strength to fight yet another day."
"I'm very glad, my friend. I've always loved this place, but never so much as when you are here. I can say whatever comes to mind without fear of being labelled or misunderstood. Having your friendship and help has made a world of difference to me. I no longer feel alone in the battle," Amelia said softly.
"I feel the same," Olivia echoed.
Amelia slid Olivia's glass to her, filled her own, and for a time both women watched the smoke curl from the liquor and simply basked in each other's company.
"You were going to tell me about that painting, Olivia," Amelia said.
Olivia had no need to ask what painting that Amelia was referring to.
"That painting was done after my first and perhaps greatest failure. A kidnapping. Normally that's not in our bailiwick, but this was the 10 year old daughter of a member of Parliament."
Olivia took a large swallow of Firewhisky.
"You recall that the painting is predominately reds and browns, do you not?"
"Yes," Amelia told her.
"Well, I made a bad call, and the girl was killed. 009 took care of him, but it was too late for the child." Olivia's eyes were focused on something far away. "The painting is how I saw the wall of that room after he had smeared that child's blood all over it."
Amelia circled the bar and embraced her friend, knowing that there were no words for this.
<<<>>>
"Do I look all right?" Amelia asked nervously.
"Perfect. Have no fear, Q and his staff will believe your cover completely. Not that it matters. If I take you on a tour, they'll bloody well show you what I tell them to. But do try to save your questions for me, when we have some privacy. Some of what you see will no doubt seem as strange to you as Honeydukes did to me. Blood Pops, honestly, and that damned frog scared the shit out of me."
"I'll behave, never fear," Amelia promised.
The lift stopped, and Amelia followed M into the laboratory...
"Merlin, Olivia! Now more than ever I am convinced that the Statute of Secrecy must be adhered to. I had absolutely no idea how very many ways Muggles had of killing one another. In mass numbers as well."
"The history of mankind is a violent one, Amelia. You know this as well as I do."
"A valid point, Olivia. In the end I suppose there is no real difference in a fatal curse and an -- inflammable circle?"
"Incendiary round. Q branch has developed a variant specifically tailored for our use. Understand that even for us, killing is a last resort, but there is simply no such thing as killing someone a little bit, is there?"
"I suppose not. Some aspects of our work I just don't much care for, Olivia."
"No more do I. But when the choice is between innocent life and a monster bent on destruction, well, it's simply not a choice at all, is it then?"
"Quite. My place tomorrow night, is it?"
"Even if I have to kill someone," Olivia replied with a bitter smile.
<<<>>>
"Come and have a look at the incident map, 007," M told him.
The plot came up quickly.
"There's a pattern there," Bond said.
"There is always a pattern, 007. The difficulty lies in discerning it," M sighed.
"You're the artist, M. What does it look like to you?"
M filed away the information that Bond had apparently been in her sitting room, and decided to take his advice. She employed a technique that she often used in her art. She stared fixedly at the tracings on the screen for a moment and then closed her eyes, calling on her imagination to extend the image where it seemed to want to go.
Her eyes snapped open, and with the remote she changed two symbols from dots to "X's".
"It's a bloody skull," Bond announced.
"Indeed it is. Prepare yourself for a bit of rough living, 007. You're going camping."
<<<>>>
"This may be a real break for us, Olivia," Amelia said as she stared at the map in M's office.
"It's sheer speculation at this point, particularly as to the time of the next attack."
"Our information is that it won't be for about three days. There seems to be a sort of cycle to these training exercises, or initiations, or whatever the devil they are. We do occasionally get information from within the enemy camp. Of course it's suspect, and we can't rely on it completely, so we cannot commit all of our resources to this. But it looks promising, and there is a house at the next logical spot in the pattern that fits the profile," Amelia said.
"Commander Bond is in place and prepared to wait. The fresh air will do him good. All of the attacks have occurred around sunset, yes?" M asked.
"Quite right, and there has always been a week to ten days between. Of course, they may decide to escalate things a bit," Amelia admitted.
"I just wish we could evacuate that family, but we can't chance tipping our hand. I hate this, we're supposed to protect these people," M said.
"Quite. But your man seems quite competent, and my people are prepared to respond swiftly. We simply cannot be sure that they will attack here and not one of the other places that fit the pattern you found," Amelia said.
"You mean the pattern that I imagined. Still, the satellite is online and we should at the least be able to respond quickly if they strike elsewhere." M stretched and rubbed her neck.
<<<>>>
"Hello, you little shit," James Bond said to the figure that had just appeared in front of the house he was watching through powerful binoculars.
This man was in his briefing papers. Richard Wexford, a particularly nasty piece of work, by all accounts. He was shortly joined by two others that were not on his list, but Bond was not inclined to wait and see what they had in mind. His orders regarding this particular individual were quite clear.
007 made a call and then snugged the rifle to his shoulder.
"Wait for my signal," Wexford commanded, "and don't be in a hurry to finish them off. The true art is in drawing it out. Killing is easy, but true suffering and torment, that's an art. Remember, this is for the glory of the Dark L--"
A meaty sort of "thwock" sound interrupted his speech. He had an instant to marvel at the blood fountaining from his chest before he burst into flame. His companions were still staring at him when the Aurors and Obliviators arrived.
On a hilltop 1501 yards away, James Bond grunted in satisfaction and packed up his gear. He made another call and then mounted his motorbike and headed towards the flames.
"Alastor Moody, I presume," Bond greeted the battered old Auror.
"In the flesh, or what's left of it. You'd be Bond, I suppose," Moody replied.
"James Bond, yes. Anything I need to know?"
We're finishing up here, the family is safe and we captured two of the Death Eaters. What in hell did you do to this bloke? He was burning like a torch when we arrived," Moody asked.
"Shot him with an incendiary round. My briefing said that he was particularly dangerous, so I saw no need to take half-measures."
"Where on earth were you?"
"That hilltop south of here," Bond replied, pointing.
Moody stared at the distant hill, and then turned back to Bond.
"I should like to buy you a drink, laddie," Moody said with what Bond supposed must be a smile.
Bond was a bit surprised that Moody excited no notice when they entered the local pub, but he supposed that as a professional and a wizard that Moody had some way of distorting his appearance.
Moody gave him a sharp glance.
"I'm under a glamour," he informed Bond, "I've excluded you from it, but I'm a bit too memorable under normal circumstances. The opposition will have no idea what the hell went wrong here, and that's just how I like it. Name your poison, laddie."
"Vodka martini, straight up, with a twist, shaken, not stirred, and make the vermouth a wish," Bond told the barmaid.
"Same here, with a large whisky on the side, but feel free to stir mine if you like," Moody ordered. "So, it never occurred to you to give him a warning, did it?"
"Not for an instant," Bond confirmed.
"You'll do, laddie. You'll do," Moody declared. "Sometimes you just have to take out the rubbish, so to speak."
"What's with the 'laddie', Moody? I'm hardly young," Bond asked. He found the appellation a bit condescending.
"Youth is relative. I'm seventy-eight."
It was Bond's turn to stare.
"'Laddie' it is, then. That's a long time in this business. Small wonder you've picked up a few dings," Bond said.
"Ha! Delicately put."
The drinks arrived and the two warriors saluted each other.
"I understand that your boss is a woman as well, Moody. Tell me, how does that sit with you?"
"Son, it doesn't matter whether the boss pisses standing up or sitting down. What matters is the job. My chief is the best I've ever served under, and she has an uncommonly high opinion of your boss. She had you in the right place at the right time, didn't she? Has she ever let you down when it mattered?" Moody asked him.
"I'd have to say no, certainly not unless the job demanded it," Bond admitted.
"Then forget about what is or isn't between her legs and pay attention to her. It's what's between the ears and behind the breastplate that counts in this business. Another round here, barmaid, if you please! Now then, laddie, fill me in on how exactly it's possible to kill so precisely from that distance, if you would..."
<<<>>>
"Please give Commander Bond a 'well done' from me, Olivia," Amelia said after cleaning her monocle upon emerging from the fire in M's sitting room. "Bloody ash. Wexford was a vicious bastard and we are well rid of him. Tell me, how did Bond accomplish this? My people said it looked like Fiendfyre, but I don't think he is a wizard."
"He does think that he has a magic wand," Olivia replied, "but no, not a wizard. A troglodyte when it comes to women, but pure Muggle. He shot Wexford from extreme range with an incendiary round. I'm sure you remember those from our tour. They burn at several thousand degrees. This is another product of my own sort of wizards. Apparently that distracted his companions long enough for your people to arrive and clean things up nicely. Not sporting, perhaps, but Special Section does not deal in half-measures. I believe Commander Bond shared a drink with your man Moody at the local afterwards."
"They do make a pair, appearances notwithstanding," Amelia said.
"Cut from the same bolt, I agree. I suppose their bond is much like ours." She handed her friend a glass of scotch. "Friends," she said, raising her glass, "they enable our tenuous hold on sanity in the dark times."
"Friends," echoed Amelia. "What has the magnificent Babette prepared for us tonight?"
"A dish of her own creation, featuring scallops."
"Tell me, is she seeing anyone?" Amelia asked casually.
"Not that I am aware of. However, she did prove immune to Commander Bond's charms," Olivia told her. "She catered a dinner for me at the office. 007 was quite taken with her, but he never even got a smile out of her."
"A discerning woman, as well as a sublime chef. She is a pearl beyond price."
"I also gave her free reign on the wine. I admit to a certain level of expectation regarding that."
"Indeed. These evenings are a positive tonic for me, Olivia. Ambrosial food and splendid companionship have a magic all their own."
"Indeed they do. Let us hope that our colleagues allow us this evening undisturbed. Come, Babette is expecting us."
<<<>>>
"Magnificent meal, Babette, even by your standards," Amelia told her.
"Merci, madame."
"I cannot convince you to call me Amelia?"
"Forgive me, but that would not be proper, I think. I know very little of the work that you and my employer do, madame, but I know that it is important and very dangerous. My form of address is my way of showing respect. It cannot be easy for either of you."
"Thank you, Babette, I very much appreciate that. I hope, however, that you do not mind that I consider you a friend as well as a marvellous chef." Babette smiled.
"I am honoured, madame. More wine?"
"Please."
"The wine is exceptional, Babette," Olivia said, "I shall have to increase your salary since you are now serving as sommelier as well as chef. Perhaps that will also make it more difficult for Amelia to steal you from me."
"You can't blame a girl for trying, but really, my kitchen is simply not up to her standard."
Privately, Olivia did not think that the state of Amelia's kitchen had ever occurred to either of them.
Babette poured and returned to her kitchen.
"Things are getting worse, aren't they, Amelia?"
"Much. Frankly, the Minister is right out of his depth. He simply refuses to acknowledge that You-Know-Who is back. The man has the worst case of 'ostrich syndrome' I've ever seen."
"What can I do to help?"
"The same thing you've been doing, Olivia. Thanks to your help we've been able to keep a bit of a lid on things, and we've saved a few lives. But I have a strong feeling that things are about to escalate. The recent disappearances are most troubling. My people are being targeted specifically, and the Death Eaters are growing bolder."
"How is your man Moody? Has he lost any further body parts?"
"Hah! Not yet, at any rate. People no longer think he's crazy for seeing enemies around every corner, though. Like as not, they are there. How fares Commander Bond?"
"007 remains his incorrigible self, maddening, primitive, sexist, and effective. The bugger had the cheek to break into my home. He's not even supposed to know where I live, but I found him sitting by the fire one evening."
"What do you suppose he was about? Rifling through your unmentionables?"
"Hardly. I suppose he did it just to show me it could be done. Gave me a bit of a turn, I can tell you. Babette did not find him remotely amusing, but he did know the code phrase so she did not trip the alarm. However, she did not offer him any refreshments, either."
"I can put some magical protections in place. I'm ashamed I didn't think of it sooner. Actually, I'll do it straight away. If the Death Eaters ever realize how you're helping us they will no doubt want to eliminate you. They still don't know what really happened to Wexford. There was much finger-pointing in their ranks after that and I believe a few of them were killed as suspected traitors. That was a gift that kept on giving."
"I'm glad to hear it, and I appreciate your concern, as well as your help. Do whatever you think best, Amelia, you have my complete trust. But enough of shop talk for the evening, I think Babette has a new pudding for us..."
<<<>>>
"Things have taken a decided turn for the worse, Olivia," Amelia said by way of greeting as she emerged from the fireplace in M's home. "Several Death Eaters, among the worst of the lot, have escaped from Azkaban Prison. The only glimmer of 'good' news in this is that it is no longer at all possible for the Minister to deny that You-Know-Who has returned. Indeed, he has now seen him with his own eyes. Fudge is sure to be sacked. Frankly, my people are pressed to the limit. Oh, and Moody and your man Bond seem to have hit it off and are cooperating nicely."
"Perhaps Moody can convince 007 that women are more than a place for him to put it, and Bond can help Moody get a date," Olivia said with a smile that faded as quickly as it had appeared. "There are rumblings throughout the intelligence community as well. I have all of our operatives in the field under the vaguest possible instructions, as I am still unwilling to bring anyone else in on things, although the PM has been in touch. Thus far we've been able to pass off the murders as the work of 'conventional' terrorists, but things are indeed coming to a head, I fear."
"Quite. I don't have time to join you for dinner, Olivia, but I'm going to regardless, if you'll indulge me. It is easier to 'screw your courage to the sticking place' on a full stomach."
"You know the bard?"
"Of course. Actually, he was one of our sort," Amelia told her.
"I suppose that explains 'Puck'."
"I rather expect so, yes. Merlin, what a week this has been. But I must say that your company is most reassuring. With you I know that I'm not alone in this."
Olivia wrapped her arms around her friend and held her close.
"So long as I draw breath, my dearest friend, you shall never be alone. Selfishly, I almost think it was worth all of this to have you in my life."
Amelia squeezed her tightly.
"You do have a way with words, Olivia. I couldn't have said it half so well, but also selfishly, I agree."
"Now then, no more business until after pudding. As tonight's menu was my option, I have selected Wellington, made with Kobe beef. Babette promises that the wine will be something beyond our experience. I believe her," Olivia said with a smile, "I've just seen the invoice..."
"I'll pay my share," Amelia offered.
"No need. I can expense this," Olivia said with a smile.
The exquisite Babette poured a small amount of wine and handed it to her guest. Amelia took a moment to savour the bouquet and then rolled a small sip around her tongue.
"Astounding, absolutely astounding. Babette, I am your slave," Amelia declared.
"Vraiment? Très intéressant... " Babette replied with a smile.
Amelia blushed.
Olivia coughed conspicuously.
Babette smiled again as she poured the wine, then she returned to the kitchen.
"Best of luck, Amelia," Olivia said as she raised her glass.
The exceptional wine made fair progress in dissolving the day's frustrations for Amelia.
Amelia now felt as content and happy here as she did in her own home, perhaps more so. When she was here she was always with friends.
Olivia usually knew her thoughts and feelings without either of them having to say a word. Babette anticipated her every need. It even began to appear that Babette was prepared to meet her every need.
But things happen in this business.
<<<>>>
"Impossible, absolutely impossible," Amelia said as she cut her second helping of Wellington with her fork. "Food like this does not exist, nor does wine. I shall explode and die."
"We all have to go sometime, and there are worse ways."
"Most of them, in fact, Olivia. Really, this has done me more good than a full night's sleep, which neither of us is likely to get in any event."
"We have not yet had pudding. Do recall the rules, Amelia."
"I beg your pardon, it would indeed be an obscene act to so profane this meal. Damn!"
Amelia opened the locket she was wearing and peered at it closely; her face clouded as she did so.
"Bastards! I'm sorry, Olivia dear, but I must leave at once. Thankfully this mess is at present confined to our side, but a warning to your people would not go amiss."
"You know how to reach me, Amelia."
"Please give my profound compliments to Babette. I believe that missing her pudding tonight will rank among my deepest regrets."
Amelia ran for the sitting room Floo, and Olivia filled her glass.
"Good fortune, my friend," she whispered as she held her wine aloft.
<<<>>>
"Visitor from the ministry coming, Director," Sir Reginald blurted.
Olivia took a deep breath of relief, as she had not heard from Amelia since the truncated dinner. But the breath caught in her throat when she saw her guest.
"Director, I am --"
"Alastor Moody..."
"Yes. I suppose I'm rather easy to recognize. I'm sorry, Director, but I've come to inform you that Madam Bones is--"
"Dead."
Moody nodded and shifted awkwardly.
Olivia felt the world shift. The one person she had known who had truly understood what it was to be her, was gone. She could not bring herself to be surprised at this, as the risks were well known to them both. She was, however, surprised at the size of the hole in her chest that this news occasioned.
She recalled Amelia's amaze at the things Q had showed her. She recalled the many pleasant evenings they had shared, silently communing over smoking glasses of whiskey. She recalled her own astonishment at the things Amelia had shown her of the magical world, the childlike wonder that that she had felt at Chocolate Frogs, and talking portraits, and moving staircases, and fantastic beings. She recalled the growing closeness between Amelia and Babette, and her heart wrenched at the thought of delivering this news. She recalled the plot of anthuriums that Amelia had so carefully tended, and the time they had spent together there honouring the fallen.
She recalled her friend, in short.
And then she recalled just who and what she was, and her face went cold and blank.
"How did it happen?"
"She was attacked in her home, and we're still trying to sort out how they found her. I can tell you that she fought fiercely, and the evidence indicates that You-Know-Who himself was obliged to intervene. Amelia was an extremely skilled and powerful witch; they are bound to have paid a high price for her life."
"Not high enough."
"No, not high enough. She was worth more than the lot of them by a mile. I apologize for coming almost completely unannounced, but Madam Bones charged me with this duty herself. I have a letter for you from her, prepared against this eventuality." Moody cleared his throat. "She was a person I very much admired, as well as my superior, and I can tell you that your friendship meant a great deal to her, Director. She spoke most highly of you to me."
"Olivia, please. Thank you, Auror Moody, she was a singular woman."
"Alastor, please, and she was an exceptional human, although perhaps not quite singular. You put me in mind of her, the things she told me about you. I'm glad that she had you for a friend. Real friends are hard to come by."
"Yes, they are, especially in our line of work."
Moody nodded and handed her an envelope.
"I also have something for you from me. Something I'm not supposed to give you, I expect." He produced a folder from inside his cloak. "From what I've been able to piece together, the people in this folder were directly involved in the attack on her. Some of them are hopefully already dead, but I expect not all of them. It's everything we have on them, likely locations, known associates, pictures, the lot."
"Thank you, Alastor."
"The Ministry is in chaos. I have no idea how things will shake out, so I have also included a list of people I am sure that you can trust. It is regrettably short," Moody apologized.
"Such lists always are. I thank you again. Amelia trusted you. I am sure that I can as well."
Moody inclined his head in acknowledgement.
"I don't suppose I'll see you again, Olivia. I'm on special assignment, not supposed to be here now, truth to tell. But she asked me to come, so I'm here." He scrubbed his sleeve across his face. "Shit. One never gets used to this sort of thing."
"One never really does, no."
"I'd best be off, fires to put out all over the place. Best of luck to you."
"To you as well."
Moody turned to the fireplace, took a step towards it, and stopped short, turning back to her.
"Oh. About your man, Bond."
"What about him?"
"Scary piece of work. Serious." Moody pointed at the folder he had given her.
"Were it up to me, I'd turn the bugger loose on those bastards," he said gruffly, and then he was gone.
Olivia Mansfield, "M", sat at her desk and carefully went through the information Moody had supplied her. Her face was a stone mask of concentration. The tears would come, as would the grief, but she would save the tears, the grief, and the letter from her dead friend for later, because just now she had business to attend to.
She keyed the intercom.
"Yes, Director," Moneypenny responded at once.
"Call 007 and tell him I said to drop whoever he's doing and get his arse in here. I have some work for him."
<<<>>>
Olivia sat at her accustomed spot at the table, and Babette removed the cover from breakfast.
"Beef Wellington? For breakfast, Babette?"
"It is for her," Babette whispered as the tears streamed down her face.
Olivia said nothing, but rose and guided Babette into her own chair at the table. She served Babette a generous portion of Wellington and poured her a glass of port. She then got another plate from the sideboard and similarly served herself.
"Eat," she encouraged Babette, "you know she would hate to see this go unappreciated."
<<<>>>
"Go straight in, 007," Moneypenny said as Bond approached the door to M's office.
"I always do, Penny," he replied with the special smile he reserved for her. Bond preferred to think of her as 'the one not yet caught' rather than 'the one who got away'.
He had, however, given up on Babette. She was too handy with knives by half.
"That last lot is sorted," Bond announced. "Who's next?" He took a seat across from M.
"I have been informed by my new opposite number that this Voldemort character is in truth dead this time," M informed him as she set two squat crystal tumblers on her desk. "If our assistance is needed for the mopping up, he will let us know. He seems a reasonable sort. Meanwhile, I think a small celebration is in order."
Olivia Mansfield produced a dusty bottle and poured. She slid a glass across her desk.
"This stuff is smoking, M."
"Yes. I have several cases of this from her. I think you'll like it."
He had no need at all to ask who "her" was.
He took a cautious sip.
"Bloody marvellous," he pronounced.
"Yes, she was." M raised her glass, drained it, and poured more for both of them.
"I'm sorry about your friend. By all I've heard she was an exceptional human being," Bond said quietly.
"Thank you. She was indeed, but I'm surprised that you did not qualify that by saying that she was an exceptional 'woman'".
Bond shrugged.
"It's not what's between your legs that matters, it's what's between your ears and behind your breastplate. Moody taught me that. He was exceptional too, but he's just as dead as Madam Bones is."
"Alastor Moody," M said, once again raising her glass.
"Amelia Bones," Bond offered in return.
"You know, James, in the end I think it will just be you and me here."
He nodded.
"The last of a dying breed, Olivia."
"No," she said with a cold smile remarkably like his own as she slid a folder across her desk to him.
He looked at her expectantly.
"The last of a killing breed, 007."
Prompt/Prompt Author:"I know something of a woman in a man's profession. Yes, by God, I do know about that." (Elizabeth I, Shakespeare in Love)
Amelia's just been made head of Magical Law Enforcement. One of her assignments is to liaise with the Muggle MI6 over the Voldemort threat. She and "M" bond (no pun intended) over being the first women in their respective professions. Maybe they comiserate over having to deal with talented rogues like Bond and Moody (or Dumbledore?) / Squibstress
Title: "Blood Sisters"
Characters:Amelia Bones/Olivia Mansfield ("M")
Rating:PG13
Warnings:Character death, reference to extreme violence, angst.
Word Count:13,500 or so
Summary:Amelia Bones finds common ground with her Muggle counterpart. Each of them finds a friend.
Author's Notes:The HP characters are portrayed as inspired by book canon. "M" is of course from movie canon. 007 is more book than movie, and more Daniel Craig than any of the others. Everyone is of course my own interpretation of them, and whatever canon departures there may be are mine. I absolutely loved this prompt, Squibstress, and I hope that the story at least resembles what you had in mind.
My thanks to my relentless betas, who made this much better than it was.
Part 1
Part two of "Blood Sisters"
"We'll go right after breakfast, Olivia," Amelia informed her as she poured the tea. "I'm afraid that it is merely scones with strawberries and Devonshire Cream with a bit of bacon for breakfast, but we will have ample opportunity to supplement that later on. I realize this is not a typical country breakfast, but the strawberries were particularly fine, and I do scones passably well. I hope that you aren't too disappointed."
"Never," Olivia said sternly, "use the term 'merely', in connection with scones with strawberries, Devonshire Cream, and bacon in my presence again, nor apologize for offering it at any time whatsoever, or I shall set 007 on you. Now give it over and get out of the way."
Amelia smiled in pleasure at the obvious relish with which Olivia ate her breakfast. In truth, the menu was Amelia's personal favourite, and she was gratified to see that her friend enjoyed it as well.
"Another scone, Olivia?"
"I can't. I want to, desperately, but I simply cannot. I must have that recipe for Babette. I have never had a scone to match these."
"It's an old family secret," Amelia demurred.
"I'm a spy master. You can't possibly hide it from me, so you might as well give in with good grace."
"Very well. One must choose one's battles wisely. I'll make you a copy, but do keep it to Babette," Amelia requested.
"On my word. The rest of the world simply does not deserve it. I'll just freshen up a bit and then I'll be ready to face the terrors of Apparition on a blissful stomach," Olivia said.
"I'm afraid there will be a bit more to it than that, Olivia. Where we are going Saville Row will stand out like a clown suit at Winchester Cathedral. We'll find you something suitable from my wardrobe."
"It won't have stars and moons on it, will it? Please tell me there will be no stars and moons," Olivia pleaded.
It was merely Hufflepuff black and gold.
"Are you ready?"
"No. But carry on."
They appeared beside a nondescript brick wall.
"Bloody hell! I shall be most cross if that lovely breakfast winds up on the paving, and forgive me, Amelia," Olivia said, looking at the wall, "but this is something less than fascinating."
"Patience, Olivia."
Amelia produced her wand and tapped a brick. The brick quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
"Welcome", said Amelia, "to Diagon Alley."
They stepped through the archway and into a world that met most of Olivia's expectations of what witches and wizards would be. Pointy hats, brooms, cauldrons, a shop that sold actual magic wands, and an apothecary that sold...
"Dragon liver, Amelia? Dragons are real too?"
"Indeed, as are merpeople, centaurs, hippogriffs, elves, fairies, werewolves, vampires, and all sorts of other living beings that you thought were myths. Oh, and giants, mustn't forget the giants. Many of them are not quite what you might expect, though. Centaurs look much like the pictures you've likely seen, as do giants, but -- well, we shall just have to drop by the bookshop and show you," Amelia said.
"Is she an elf? That blonde woman coming this way, I mean," Olivia asked. "She's stunning."
"No, she's a veela. Elves are tiny things with enormous eyes and ears. I suppose your image of elves came from books?"
"Yes, and I can see that all this is going to take more than one day to absorb, Amelia," Olivia said as she took in the strange sights around her.
"Likely, yes. We can take a quick turn 'round the Alley and then return to any place you like, does that suit?" Amelia asked.
"A fine idea, although I could do with a bit of refreshment before we start."
"Well then, I know just the place, and as the students are in school it shouldn't be too crowded. Really, just before the start of term there isn't room to swing a Kneazle here," Amelia said.
"Kneazle?"
"Oh, the things you will see! But first, ice cream."
Amelia was thrilled at Olivia's reaction thus far, the open wonder she displayed showed how comfortable she was with her. Amelia looked forward to sharing her world with her friend, and it would let her see things with new eyes as well.
"I haven't been in an ice-cream parlour in ages," Olivia said as they sat at one of the tables in Florean Fortescue's. "What a lovely place. Do they have many flavours here? I don't see a menu."
"There is no menu," Amelia told her.
"I suppose the server tells us what flavours are available, then?"
"Olivia, every flavour is available. Magic, remember? Just let your imagination run wild, why don't you?"
Amelia stuck with her favourite, spiced pumpkin with raisins soaked in rum, while Olivia fulfilled a childhood dream with mulberry - Supercrema ripple.
"How marvellous! I almost feel like a girl again," Olivia said after her first taste.
"Well, let us be two girls on an outing, then. Properly decorous girls, of course, but there's no reason we can't have a bit of fun so long as our jobs leave us alone, is there?"
"None that I can see, Amelia."
Olivia was fascinated by the books in Flourish and Blotts; by the fantastic creatures she saw in their pages, and they spent quite some time in there. She stopped by a display marked "remainders" and looked at the piles of books, all with the same man on the cover.
"This chap doesn't seem to be selling very well," Olivia said.
"He used to top the best-seller lists, but it developed that he was rather lying about having actually done the things in the books. That is, the bits that weren't made up out of whole cloth. He set himself up as a sort of adventurer or wandering hero who roamed the world fighting the forces of darkness. The man did know his memory charms, though," Amelia explained.
"I see. Well, he looks like a bit of a ponce, anyway. Fine dental work, though. Where to next?"
"Let's see about getting you a proper set of robes, shall we? If you're going to be touring the magical world you should have suitable clothes. You are of course welcome to anything of mine, but the fit isn't all that it could be."
"A splendid idea, but do they take my sort of money here?" Olivia asked.
"We can change some at Gringotts bank..."
"Goblins, actual goblins," Olivia said as they emerged from Gringotts. "I have to say they did look a bit like I had imagined. Not a terribly friendly lot, though, are they, Amelia?"
"Relations are a bit strained between us, yes. They have small love for wizardkind, and not without reason, I admit."
"Magic or Muggle, people will always find an axe to grind. Let's go shopping, we can sort out the world when we're back on the clock."
The presence of Amelia Bones ensured prompt and courteous service, and before very long Olivia had a lovely set of robes in a very deep blue.
"Thank you, Madam Malkin, these are simply beautiful, and the fit is perfect. I've never worn anything quite so comfortable," Olivia said.
"That's always good to hear. Thank you for your custom, and do tell your friends, please," she replied.
"Not bloody likely," Olivia said softly to Amelia once they were back on the street.
"Best not to, yes," Amelia agreed.
Amelia also thought it best to avoid the apothecary, but they briefly toured most of the others. Olivia was fascinated by the owl post office, but her favourite place was Flourish and Blotts, followed closely by Fortescue's.
"What's down that way?" Olivia asked as they passed a narrow side street.
"Knockturn Alley, not a place for us. The shops and people there are on the dark side of magic. We raid it occasionally, and I'm not very popular there, I'm afraid."
"I see. Well, in any event, it's getting late. Is there someplace we can have dinner here?"
"There's the Leaky Cauldron, and it's not a bad pub. I don't suppose Tom will mind it too much if my presence drives away a few of his dodgier customers," Amelia answered.
Tom politely conducted them to a table in a dark corner, and left to get their drinks.
"He's tucked us away nicely," Olivia said with a smile.
"He's a businessman, after all. What do you fancy for dinner?"
"Is this like the ice-cream parlour?" Olivia asked.
"No, but they do have the usual sort of pub food," Amelia told her.
"Might as well do it up right and have fish and chips, then. Oh. They will be normal fish, won't they? I shouldn't like to have the thing start talking or something, Amelia."
"No, they're quite normal fish," Amelia promised.
"Two fish and chips, please, Tom," Amelia said when their drinks arrived.
"Very good, Madam Bones."
Olivia looked around the room, now her eyes had adjusted to the dim light. It did indeed look much like any other pub, barring the clientele's dress. Then her eyes lit on a figure at the end of the bar.
"There, at the end of the bar nearest the front. Now that's what I thought a witch would look like," Olivia said.
"What on earth did your mother read to you when you were a child, Olivia? That's a hag."
"The usual sort of bedtime tales, witches fattening children up to make pies out of them, poisoning apples and such," Olivia told her.
"Oh, well that's true enough," Amelia said.
"Really?" Olivia asked.
"No, goose, not really. Well, not commonly, any road."
"This has been a day of surprises," Olivia said, shaking her head.
Tom arrived with their food, and while not the match of Amelia's shepherd's pie, much less Babette's food, it was nonetheless quite edible. Hot, crisp, and just greasy enough to be authentic.
All-in-all, a most interesting and enjoyable day, and Olivia was still smiling when she hung her new robes in the wardrobe. They were not actually so very different from her Oxford ones, were they?
<<<>>>
As the weeks passed, Amelia and Olivia saw each other frewquently. They dined together whenever they could, and seized any opportunity for an overnight visit. Midweek meals were usually taken at Olivia's. They enjoyed dining out, but, as they had not found a chef to match Babette, they usually opted for the superior cuisine. Olivia was a bit amused at the growing attraction between Amelia and Babette. Both of them thought they were being very subtle, but insofar as Olivia was concerned they might as well have been skywriting. Babette could make "Madame Bones" sound like a proposition. Olivia did remain absolutely mute on the subject, however.
Overnight stays were most often at Amelia's place, it felt more private and cozy, and there was the little pub...
"Same again, barmaid," Olivia said with a satisfied sigh.
"You seem to have taken quite a liking to Ogden's, Olivia."
"Splendid stuff. I still like my Talisker, but knowing that 007 can't get this adds to the savour."
"And you call me a witch. Some nerve you have, Olivia Mansfield."
Olivia shrugged.
"What would we do without the small pleasures? God, I love this place, Amelia. For a time I can forget the ugliness and gain strength to fight yet another day."
"I'm very glad, my friend. I've always loved this place, but never so much as when you are here. I can say whatever comes to mind without fear of being labelled or misunderstood. Having your friendship and help has made a world of difference to me. I no longer feel alone in the battle," Amelia said softly.
"I feel the same," Olivia echoed.
Amelia slid Olivia's glass to her, filled her own, and for a time both women watched the smoke curl from the liquor and simply basked in each other's company.
"You were going to tell me about that painting, Olivia," Amelia said.
Olivia had no need to ask what painting that Amelia was referring to.
"That painting was done after my first and perhaps greatest failure. A kidnapping. Normally that's not in our bailiwick, but this was the 10 year old daughter of a member of Parliament."
Olivia took a large swallow of Firewhisky.
"You recall that the painting is predominately reds and browns, do you not?"
"Yes," Amelia told her.
"Well, I made a bad call, and the girl was killed. 009 took care of him, but it was too late for the child." Olivia's eyes were focused on something far away. "The painting is how I saw the wall of that room after he had smeared that child's blood all over it."
Amelia circled the bar and embraced her friend, knowing that there were no words for this.
<<<>>>
"Do I look all right?" Amelia asked nervously.
"Perfect. Have no fear, Q and his staff will believe your cover completely. Not that it matters. If I take you on a tour, they'll bloody well show you what I tell them to. But do try to save your questions for me, when we have some privacy. Some of what you see will no doubt seem as strange to you as Honeydukes did to me. Blood Pops, honestly, and that damned frog scared the shit out of me."
"I'll behave, never fear," Amelia promised.
The lift stopped, and Amelia followed M into the laboratory...
"Merlin, Olivia! Now more than ever I am convinced that the Statute of Secrecy must be adhered to. I had absolutely no idea how very many ways Muggles had of killing one another. In mass numbers as well."
"The history of mankind is a violent one, Amelia. You know this as well as I do."
"A valid point, Olivia. In the end I suppose there is no real difference in a fatal curse and an -- inflammable circle?"
"Incendiary round. Q branch has developed a variant specifically tailored for our use. Understand that even for us, killing is a last resort, but there is simply no such thing as killing someone a little bit, is there?"
"I suppose not. Some aspects of our work I just don't much care for, Olivia."
"No more do I. But when the choice is between innocent life and a monster bent on destruction, well, it's simply not a choice at all, is it then?"
"Quite. My place tomorrow night, is it?"
"Even if I have to kill someone," Olivia replied with a bitter smile.
<<<>>>
"Come and have a look at the incident map, 007," M told him.
The plot came up quickly.
"There's a pattern there," Bond said.
"There is always a pattern, 007. The difficulty lies in discerning it," M sighed.
"You're the artist, M. What does it look like to you?"
M filed away the information that Bond had apparently been in her sitting room, and decided to take his advice. She employed a technique that she often used in her art. She stared fixedly at the tracings on the screen for a moment and then closed her eyes, calling on her imagination to extend the image where it seemed to want to go.
Her eyes snapped open, and with the remote she changed two symbols from dots to "X's".
"It's a bloody skull," Bond announced.
"Indeed it is. Prepare yourself for a bit of rough living, 007. You're going camping."
<<<>>>
"This may be a real break for us, Olivia," Amelia said as she stared at the map in M's office.
"It's sheer speculation at this point, particularly as to the time of the next attack."
"Our information is that it won't be for about three days. There seems to be a sort of cycle to these training exercises, or initiations, or whatever the devil they are. We do occasionally get information from within the enemy camp. Of course it's suspect, and we can't rely on it completely, so we cannot commit all of our resources to this. But it looks promising, and there is a house at the next logical spot in the pattern that fits the profile," Amelia said.
"Commander Bond is in place and prepared to wait. The fresh air will do him good. All of the attacks have occurred around sunset, yes?" M asked.
"Quite right, and there has always been a week to ten days between. Of course, they may decide to escalate things a bit," Amelia admitted.
"I just wish we could evacuate that family, but we can't chance tipping our hand. I hate this, we're supposed to protect these people," M said.
"Quite. But your man seems quite competent, and my people are prepared to respond swiftly. We simply cannot be sure that they will attack here and not one of the other places that fit the pattern you found," Amelia said.
"You mean the pattern that I imagined. Still, the satellite is online and we should at the least be able to respond quickly if they strike elsewhere." M stretched and rubbed her neck.
<<<>>>
"Hello, you little shit," James Bond said to the figure that had just appeared in front of the house he was watching through powerful binoculars.
This man was in his briefing papers. Richard Wexford, a particularly nasty piece of work, by all accounts. He was shortly joined by two others that were not on his list, but Bond was not inclined to wait and see what they had in mind. His orders regarding this particular individual were quite clear.
007 made a call and then snugged the rifle to his shoulder.
"Wait for my signal," Wexford commanded, "and don't be in a hurry to finish them off. The true art is in drawing it out. Killing is easy, but true suffering and torment, that's an art. Remember, this is for the glory of the Dark L--"
A meaty sort of "thwock" sound interrupted his speech. He had an instant to marvel at the blood fountaining from his chest before he burst into flame. His companions were still staring at him when the Aurors and Obliviators arrived.
On a hilltop 1501 yards away, James Bond grunted in satisfaction and packed up his gear. He made another call and then mounted his motorbike and headed towards the flames.
"Alastor Moody, I presume," Bond greeted the battered old Auror.
"In the flesh, or what's left of it. You'd be Bond, I suppose," Moody replied.
"James Bond, yes. Anything I need to know?"
We're finishing up here, the family is safe and we captured two of the Death Eaters. What in hell did you do to this bloke? He was burning like a torch when we arrived," Moody asked.
"Shot him with an incendiary round. My briefing said that he was particularly dangerous, so I saw no need to take half-measures."
"Where on earth were you?"
"That hilltop south of here," Bond replied, pointing.
Moody stared at the distant hill, and then turned back to Bond.
"I should like to buy you a drink, laddie," Moody said with what Bond supposed must be a smile.
Bond was a bit surprised that Moody excited no notice when they entered the local pub, but he supposed that as a professional and a wizard that Moody had some way of distorting his appearance.
Moody gave him a sharp glance.
"I'm under a glamour," he informed Bond, "I've excluded you from it, but I'm a bit too memorable under normal circumstances. The opposition will have no idea what the hell went wrong here, and that's just how I like it. Name your poison, laddie."
"Vodka martini, straight up, with a twist, shaken, not stirred, and make the vermouth a wish," Bond told the barmaid.
"Same here, with a large whisky on the side, but feel free to stir mine if you like," Moody ordered. "So, it never occurred to you to give him a warning, did it?"
"Not for an instant," Bond confirmed.
"You'll do, laddie. You'll do," Moody declared. "Sometimes you just have to take out the rubbish, so to speak."
"What's with the 'laddie', Moody? I'm hardly young," Bond asked. He found the appellation a bit condescending.
"Youth is relative. I'm seventy-eight."
It was Bond's turn to stare.
"'Laddie' it is, then. That's a long time in this business. Small wonder you've picked up a few dings," Bond said.
"Ha! Delicately put."
The drinks arrived and the two warriors saluted each other.
"I understand that your boss is a woman as well, Moody. Tell me, how does that sit with you?"
"Son, it doesn't matter whether the boss pisses standing up or sitting down. What matters is the job. My chief is the best I've ever served under, and she has an uncommonly high opinion of your boss. She had you in the right place at the right time, didn't she? Has she ever let you down when it mattered?" Moody asked him.
"I'd have to say no, certainly not unless the job demanded it," Bond admitted.
"Then forget about what is or isn't between her legs and pay attention to her. It's what's between the ears and behind the breastplate that counts in this business. Another round here, barmaid, if you please! Now then, laddie, fill me in on how exactly it's possible to kill so precisely from that distance, if you would..."
<<<>>>
"Please give Commander Bond a 'well done' from me, Olivia," Amelia said after cleaning her monocle upon emerging from the fire in M's sitting room. "Bloody ash. Wexford was a vicious bastard and we are well rid of him. Tell me, how did Bond accomplish this? My people said it looked like Fiendfyre, but I don't think he is a wizard."
"He does think that he has a magic wand," Olivia replied, "but no, not a wizard. A troglodyte when it comes to women, but pure Muggle. He shot Wexford from extreme range with an incendiary round. I'm sure you remember those from our tour. They burn at several thousand degrees. This is another product of my own sort of wizards. Apparently that distracted his companions long enough for your people to arrive and clean things up nicely. Not sporting, perhaps, but Special Section does not deal in half-measures. I believe Commander Bond shared a drink with your man Moody at the local afterwards."
"They do make a pair, appearances notwithstanding," Amelia said.
"Cut from the same bolt, I agree. I suppose their bond is much like ours." She handed her friend a glass of scotch. "Friends," she said, raising her glass, "they enable our tenuous hold on sanity in the dark times."
"Friends," echoed Amelia. "What has the magnificent Babette prepared for us tonight?"
"A dish of her own creation, featuring scallops."
"Tell me, is she seeing anyone?" Amelia asked casually.
"Not that I am aware of. However, she did prove immune to Commander Bond's charms," Olivia told her. "She catered a dinner for me at the office. 007 was quite taken with her, but he never even got a smile out of her."
"A discerning woman, as well as a sublime chef. She is a pearl beyond price."
"I also gave her free reign on the wine. I admit to a certain level of expectation regarding that."
"Indeed. These evenings are a positive tonic for me, Olivia. Ambrosial food and splendid companionship have a magic all their own."
"Indeed they do. Let us hope that our colleagues allow us this evening undisturbed. Come, Babette is expecting us."
<<<>>>
"Magnificent meal, Babette, even by your standards," Amelia told her.
"Merci, madame."
"I cannot convince you to call me Amelia?"
"Forgive me, but that would not be proper, I think. I know very little of the work that you and my employer do, madame, but I know that it is important and very dangerous. My form of address is my way of showing respect. It cannot be easy for either of you."
"Thank you, Babette, I very much appreciate that. I hope, however, that you do not mind that I consider you a friend as well as a marvellous chef." Babette smiled.
"I am honoured, madame. More wine?"
"Please."
"The wine is exceptional, Babette," Olivia said, "I shall have to increase your salary since you are now serving as sommelier as well as chef. Perhaps that will also make it more difficult for Amelia to steal you from me."
"You can't blame a girl for trying, but really, my kitchen is simply not up to her standard."
Privately, Olivia did not think that the state of Amelia's kitchen had ever occurred to either of them.
Babette poured and returned to her kitchen.
"Things are getting worse, aren't they, Amelia?"
"Much. Frankly, the Minister is right out of his depth. He simply refuses to acknowledge that You-Know-Who is back. The man has the worst case of 'ostrich syndrome' I've ever seen."
"What can I do to help?"
"The same thing you've been doing, Olivia. Thanks to your help we've been able to keep a bit of a lid on things, and we've saved a few lives. But I have a strong feeling that things are about to escalate. The recent disappearances are most troubling. My people are being targeted specifically, and the Death Eaters are growing bolder."
"How is your man Moody? Has he lost any further body parts?"
"Hah! Not yet, at any rate. People no longer think he's crazy for seeing enemies around every corner, though. Like as not, they are there. How fares Commander Bond?"
"007 remains his incorrigible self, maddening, primitive, sexist, and effective. The bugger had the cheek to break into my home. He's not even supposed to know where I live, but I found him sitting by the fire one evening."
"What do you suppose he was about? Rifling through your unmentionables?"
"Hardly. I suppose he did it just to show me it could be done. Gave me a bit of a turn, I can tell you. Babette did not find him remotely amusing, but he did know the code phrase so she did not trip the alarm. However, she did not offer him any refreshments, either."
"I can put some magical protections in place. I'm ashamed I didn't think of it sooner. Actually, I'll do it straight away. If the Death Eaters ever realize how you're helping us they will no doubt want to eliminate you. They still don't know what really happened to Wexford. There was much finger-pointing in their ranks after that and I believe a few of them were killed as suspected traitors. That was a gift that kept on giving."
"I'm glad to hear it, and I appreciate your concern, as well as your help. Do whatever you think best, Amelia, you have my complete trust. But enough of shop talk for the evening, I think Babette has a new pudding for us..."
<<<>>>
"Things have taken a decided turn for the worse, Olivia," Amelia said by way of greeting as she emerged from the fireplace in M's home. "Several Death Eaters, among the worst of the lot, have escaped from Azkaban Prison. The only glimmer of 'good' news in this is that it is no longer at all possible for the Minister to deny that You-Know-Who has returned. Indeed, he has now seen him with his own eyes. Fudge is sure to be sacked. Frankly, my people are pressed to the limit. Oh, and Moody and your man Bond seem to have hit it off and are cooperating nicely."
"Perhaps Moody can convince 007 that women are more than a place for him to put it, and Bond can help Moody get a date," Olivia said with a smile that faded as quickly as it had appeared. "There are rumblings throughout the intelligence community as well. I have all of our operatives in the field under the vaguest possible instructions, as I am still unwilling to bring anyone else in on things, although the PM has been in touch. Thus far we've been able to pass off the murders as the work of 'conventional' terrorists, but things are indeed coming to a head, I fear."
"Quite. I don't have time to join you for dinner, Olivia, but I'm going to regardless, if you'll indulge me. It is easier to 'screw your courage to the sticking place' on a full stomach."
"You know the bard?"
"Of course. Actually, he was one of our sort," Amelia told her.
"I suppose that explains 'Puck'."
"I rather expect so, yes. Merlin, what a week this has been. But I must say that your company is most reassuring. With you I know that I'm not alone in this."
Olivia wrapped her arms around her friend and held her close.
"So long as I draw breath, my dearest friend, you shall never be alone. Selfishly, I almost think it was worth all of this to have you in my life."
Amelia squeezed her tightly.
"You do have a way with words, Olivia. I couldn't have said it half so well, but also selfishly, I agree."
"Now then, no more business until after pudding. As tonight's menu was my option, I have selected Wellington, made with Kobe beef. Babette promises that the wine will be something beyond our experience. I believe her," Olivia said with a smile, "I've just seen the invoice..."
"I'll pay my share," Amelia offered.
"No need. I can expense this," Olivia said with a smile.
The exquisite Babette poured a small amount of wine and handed it to her guest. Amelia took a moment to savour the bouquet and then rolled a small sip around her tongue.
"Astounding, absolutely astounding. Babette, I am your slave," Amelia declared.
"Vraiment? Très intéressant... " Babette replied with a smile.
Amelia blushed.
Olivia coughed conspicuously.
Babette smiled again as she poured the wine, then she returned to the kitchen.
"Best of luck, Amelia," Olivia said as she raised her glass.
The exceptional wine made fair progress in dissolving the day's frustrations for Amelia.
Amelia now felt as content and happy here as she did in her own home, perhaps more so. When she was here she was always with friends.
Olivia usually knew her thoughts and feelings without either of them having to say a word. Babette anticipated her every need. It even began to appear that Babette was prepared to meet her every need.
But things happen in this business.
<<<>>>
"Impossible, absolutely impossible," Amelia said as she cut her second helping of Wellington with her fork. "Food like this does not exist, nor does wine. I shall explode and die."
"We all have to go sometime, and there are worse ways."
"Most of them, in fact, Olivia. Really, this has done me more good than a full night's sleep, which neither of us is likely to get in any event."
"We have not yet had pudding. Do recall the rules, Amelia."
"I beg your pardon, it would indeed be an obscene act to so profane this meal. Damn!"
Amelia opened the locket she was wearing and peered at it closely; her face clouded as she did so.
"Bastards! I'm sorry, Olivia dear, but I must leave at once. Thankfully this mess is at present confined to our side, but a warning to your people would not go amiss."
"You know how to reach me, Amelia."
"Please give my profound compliments to Babette. I believe that missing her pudding tonight will rank among my deepest regrets."
Amelia ran for the sitting room Floo, and Olivia filled her glass.
"Good fortune, my friend," she whispered as she held her wine aloft.
<<<>>>
"Visitor from the ministry coming, Director," Sir Reginald blurted.
Olivia took a deep breath of relief, as she had not heard from Amelia since the truncated dinner. But the breath caught in her throat when she saw her guest.
"Director, I am --"
"Alastor Moody..."
"Yes. I suppose I'm rather easy to recognize. I'm sorry, Director, but I've come to inform you that Madam Bones is--"
"Dead."
Moody nodded and shifted awkwardly.
Olivia felt the world shift. The one person she had known who had truly understood what it was to be her, was gone. She could not bring herself to be surprised at this, as the risks were well known to them both. She was, however, surprised at the size of the hole in her chest that this news occasioned.
She recalled Amelia's amaze at the things Q had showed her. She recalled the many pleasant evenings they had shared, silently communing over smoking glasses of whiskey. She recalled her own astonishment at the things Amelia had shown her of the magical world, the childlike wonder that that she had felt at Chocolate Frogs, and talking portraits, and moving staircases, and fantastic beings. She recalled the growing closeness between Amelia and Babette, and her heart wrenched at the thought of delivering this news. She recalled the plot of anthuriums that Amelia had so carefully tended, and the time they had spent together there honouring the fallen.
She recalled her friend, in short.
And then she recalled just who and what she was, and her face went cold and blank.
"How did it happen?"
"She was attacked in her home, and we're still trying to sort out how they found her. I can tell you that she fought fiercely, and the evidence indicates that You-Know-Who himself was obliged to intervene. Amelia was an extremely skilled and powerful witch; they are bound to have paid a high price for her life."
"Not high enough."
"No, not high enough. She was worth more than the lot of them by a mile. I apologize for coming almost completely unannounced, but Madam Bones charged me with this duty herself. I have a letter for you from her, prepared against this eventuality." Moody cleared his throat. "She was a person I very much admired, as well as my superior, and I can tell you that your friendship meant a great deal to her, Director. She spoke most highly of you to me."
"Olivia, please. Thank you, Auror Moody, she was a singular woman."
"Alastor, please, and she was an exceptional human, although perhaps not quite singular. You put me in mind of her, the things she told me about you. I'm glad that she had you for a friend. Real friends are hard to come by."
"Yes, they are, especially in our line of work."
Moody nodded and handed her an envelope.
"I also have something for you from me. Something I'm not supposed to give you, I expect." He produced a folder from inside his cloak. "From what I've been able to piece together, the people in this folder were directly involved in the attack on her. Some of them are hopefully already dead, but I expect not all of them. It's everything we have on them, likely locations, known associates, pictures, the lot."
"Thank you, Alastor."
"The Ministry is in chaos. I have no idea how things will shake out, so I have also included a list of people I am sure that you can trust. It is regrettably short," Moody apologized.
"Such lists always are. I thank you again. Amelia trusted you. I am sure that I can as well."
Moody inclined his head in acknowledgement.
"I don't suppose I'll see you again, Olivia. I'm on special assignment, not supposed to be here now, truth to tell. But she asked me to come, so I'm here." He scrubbed his sleeve across his face. "Shit. One never gets used to this sort of thing."
"One never really does, no."
"I'd best be off, fires to put out all over the place. Best of luck to you."
"To you as well."
Moody turned to the fireplace, took a step towards it, and stopped short, turning back to her.
"Oh. About your man, Bond."
"What about him?"
"Scary piece of work. Serious." Moody pointed at the folder he had given her.
"Were it up to me, I'd turn the bugger loose on those bastards," he said gruffly, and then he was gone.
Olivia Mansfield, "M", sat at her desk and carefully went through the information Moody had supplied her. Her face was a stone mask of concentration. The tears would come, as would the grief, but she would save the tears, the grief, and the letter from her dead friend for later, because just now she had business to attend to.
She keyed the intercom.
"Yes, Director," Moneypenny responded at once.
"Call 007 and tell him I said to drop whoever he's doing and get his arse in here. I have some work for him."
<<<>>>
Olivia sat at her accustomed spot at the table, and Babette removed the cover from breakfast.
"Beef Wellington? For breakfast, Babette?"
"It is for her," Babette whispered as the tears streamed down her face.
Olivia said nothing, but rose and guided Babette into her own chair at the table. She served Babette a generous portion of Wellington and poured her a glass of port. She then got another plate from the sideboard and similarly served herself.
"Eat," she encouraged Babette, "you know she would hate to see this go unappreciated."
<<<>>>
"Go straight in, 007," Moneypenny said as Bond approached the door to M's office.
"I always do, Penny," he replied with the special smile he reserved for her. Bond preferred to think of her as 'the one not yet caught' rather than 'the one who got away'.
He had, however, given up on Babette. She was too handy with knives by half.
"That last lot is sorted," Bond announced. "Who's next?" He took a seat across from M.
"I have been informed by my new opposite number that this Voldemort character is in truth dead this time," M informed him as she set two squat crystal tumblers on her desk. "If our assistance is needed for the mopping up, he will let us know. He seems a reasonable sort. Meanwhile, I think a small celebration is in order."
Olivia Mansfield produced a dusty bottle and poured. She slid a glass across her desk.
"This stuff is smoking, M."
"Yes. I have several cases of this from her. I think you'll like it."
He had no need at all to ask who "her" was.
He took a cautious sip.
"Bloody marvellous," he pronounced.
"Yes, she was." M raised her glass, drained it, and poured more for both of them.
"I'm sorry about your friend. By all I've heard she was an exceptional human being," Bond said quietly.
"Thank you. She was indeed, but I'm surprised that you did not qualify that by saying that she was an exceptional 'woman'".
Bond shrugged.
"It's not what's between your legs that matters, it's what's between your ears and behind your breastplate. Moody taught me that. He was exceptional too, but he's just as dead as Madam Bones is."
"Alastor Moody," M said, once again raising her glass.
"Amelia Bones," Bond offered in return.
"You know, James, in the end I think it will just be you and me here."
He nodded.
"The last of a dying breed, Olivia."
"No," she said with a cold smile remarkably like his own as she slid a folder across her desk to him.
He looked at her expectantly.
"The last of a killing breed, 007."