Aurors: The Fist of Mars

A Good End to a Bad Week

The Polyjuice potion was nearly ready. Brynja had Oliver schedule a meeting with Harry for Saturday night. After a terrible week—one that began with a triggering event and clipped along with her partner being arrested as a serial killer—Brynja was ready to relax with a friend and do something productive. She was going to hand-off some hair to Harry for use on Monday.

She met Oliver for dinner at a local tavern. Penny met them. Brynja had invited her after Oliver had confirmed that Percy would not be coming. The three old classmates chatted over drinks and dinner, and then Brynja followed Oliver back to his flat where Harry would be waiting.

Harry was there right on time, and Oliver said something outside about some Puddlemere merchandise he had picked up for the hero wizard. When they had come inside and locked the door, Brynja opened her handbag and pulled out a little Puddlemere United makeup mirror. A few dark hairs were curled up inside.

"Here is is," she said. She placed it on top of a pile of robes and shirts and kid-sized quaffles that Oliver was handing Harry. Harry tucked the compact into the breast pocket of his rugby shirt.

"And you're a hundred percent sure it's your hair?" Harry asked.

"I plucked it straight out of my head."

"Good," Harry said. "Wouldn't want to become your roommate standing at the gates of Azkaban."

Brynja thought back to her last conversation with Proudfoot. He had promoted some pretty Fist-of-Mars-like ideas: merciless justice with no deals. If she wanted to catch a big fish... "Harry," she began, hesitating. "How are you going to get him to talk? I mean, what if he doesn't brag just because he thinks I'm standing there? What then?"

Harry chewed on his lower lips. His brow furrowed. Brynja could tell he was a bit stumped.

"Has Kingsley authorized you to make a deal?" Brynja asked. "He's a lifer. Maybe he'll talk if he can get some time off. Or if you can get his mother some time off." Brynja knew Sam Capper had been loyal to his family. That was why he had joined the death eaters to begin with. He trusted them when, as a child, they told him he was superior. He trusted them when they chose sides in the war. His father had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, but maybe he would talk if he thought he could help his mother, who was also in for life.

"His mother?" Harry nodded. "I'll have to take a look at the charges against her. I don't know if we should let someone who tried to kill you out. I mean... what if he came after you?"

Brynja would have liked to think she could take Sam in a fight. She could even finish him off if her life depended on it. He had tried to kill her, after all, and he had unknowingly killed their unborn child. But after Monday afternoon with what happened in Attaway's apartment, she just didn't trust herself to keep it together. She had spent the past few days wondering if she should be assigned a new partner or just stay on desk duty for a while. "I'm pretty sure his mother didn't kill anyone," Brynja said. "She was a property manager. She arranged housing—rewarding The Dark Lord's followers with the plushest of seized accommodations. Their inhabitants were already dead, jailed, or fled when she got involved."

"Then I'll see if I need to," Harry said. He hoped that he could just get Capper talking. If he thought he was raving at his ex, perhaps in his ramblings about betrayal and purity, he'd let it slip. "Thanks." Harry patted his pocket. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Oliver, who had been standing around quietly, showed Harry to the door. "Don't give Capper a deal if you can help it, Harry. Or you might have to come arrest me."

"I only arrest dangerous dark wizards, not regular murderers, Wood. That's for the hitwizards." Harry smirked. "But yeah, I don't plan on letting him ever see the sky."

Oliver clapped Harry on the back. "You're coming to tomorrow's game, yeah?"

Harry nodded. "Of course."

Oliver locked the door behind Harry. He turned back to Brynja, tension in his shoulders.

"I'll be fine," she said. "You heard him. Harry isn't going to give a deal to S—Capper. He'll stay locked away for the rest of his life."

Oliver crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. Brynja buried her face against his shoulder. She had needed that. A week of fear and anger and self-doubt melted away.

"So, your partner is a serial killer," Oliver said when he pulled back. "That's shit."

"And we had a death eater, too," she said. "All in one week. Ron Weasley could had diedtwice."

Oliver laughed. "Ron Weasley has had plenty of opportunity to get himself killed these past few years. He's a lucky git. Goofy as hell, but lucky." Oliver sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to him. "Is it strange? To be that close to someone hiding a secret like that?"

Brynja sat down next to Oliver. "I'm quite used to spending time with murderers. Only this time I didn't know what he was. He was quite personable."

"I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing."

"I've met more good werewolves than bad," Brynja said. She had been taught by Lupin seventh year. And there was Marcus (she hadn't even told Oliver about his secret). Fenrir Greyback seemed to be an anomaly. He was the exception, not the rule. "You can't do that as an auror. You can't let your personal vendettas get in the way of the law. Kingsley Shacklebolt understands that. The Fist of Mars wants vengeance, not justice. Proudfoot wanted the same thing, but the person he wanted payback from wasn't within his reach. He killed three people, and he made a lot more live in fear."

They sat in silence for a while. Oliver finally got up and, using his wand, set a fire in the fireplace. Brynja wondered about Proudfoot. They had different areas of focus, but Proudfoot's vengeance seemed a lot like the ideas of The Fist of Mars. Would he have warned them to move their Halloween meeting? Would they move it anyway, just to be safe, once their potion-maker was found?

Brynja felt the cushions of the sofa move as Oliver sat back down. She looked up at him. She supposed she should head home soon. Tomorrow she would be back here for Oliver's game and the inevitable party that followed. Brynja didn't much care for rowdy parties with lots of screaming sports fans, but she liked to make an appearance to show her support. She especially made a point to come when his team lost because Oliver tended to be in a bad way when that happened.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her. She realized she had maintained eye contact for half a minute without saying anything.

She shrugged.

Oliver smiled.

His smile faded.

Oliver cupped her chin with his hand and pressed his lips to her own. Brynja, caught off guard by his kiss, tensed for a moment before closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. It had been almost five years since their last kiss. They had been teenagers then, two people with vastly different interests who couldn't seem to make their lives at Hogwarts fit together. Whatever hadn't worked, it was gone now. Brynja kissed Oliver, and worries about death eaters, werewolves, and vigilantes went away. She wasn't an auror. He wasn't an athlete. They were just Brynja and Oliver.

And it was right.