Chapter Five | Ambigendi locus
[Room for Doubt]
Vivian doesn't much believe in providence. She finds the term rather archaic; a product of a bygone age, when life was modeled upon themes of right and wrong with no shades between to mark the passage of human existence. Providence, they say, came to those deserving of it. Providence was a gift from God who pushes forward the world. Concerning her own life thus far, Vivian doesn't believe in any force greater than her own, and therefore doesn't think much of it when she happens upon the grace of superintendence, whether divinely extended or not. But that is often the way of things. Rarely do we see beyond the superficial until much later, when hindsight gives us clarity enough to look behind the curtain that shrouds the deeper meanings from view. As for Vivian's own clarity, hindsight will not come to her for some years yet.
"...See anyone?" Sirius murmurs to her as they walk through the main lobby of the Ministry. Swarms of employees bustle past them; latecomers to work, or those with varying hours as compared to their fellows. It's after rush hour at this point, but the Ministry of Magic is always busy, it seems. In addition to those wearing the standard Ministry robes, others, like Sirius and Vivian, are a part of the bustle. Filing information, registering with various departments, attending court hearings – there are innumerous reasons.
Vivian shakes her head and responds, "Not yet, but it's bound to happen at some point."
What, exactly, is bound to happen is this: Vivian, who had not been out in the open like this for some months now, is taking something of a risk by walking into the Ministry of Magic like this. After all, the Ministry is filled with purebloods who share the same circle as her father, who she hasn't heard from since before graduating Hogwarts in the spring. The one letter her mother had sent her since then had informed her that her father was hoping to find her and speak with her. Vivian translates this to mean that he wishes to knock some sense into her by reminding her that stepping away from her family equates to losing her inheritance and smearing the Blair name beyond recognition, at least in his eyes. In any case, the thought of running into her father's colleagues doesn't entirely appeal to her for a variety of reasons, but neither does the thought of staying put in the cottage. When Sirius had informed her that he meant to go to the Ministry to speak with Moody about working in the Auror department, she had decided to go with him. He had, naturally, pointed out the likelihood of her running into an old acquaintance of her father's, but hadn't tried to bar her from coming. Sirius Black is much too daring to be bothered with all that. In fact, though he hasn't outright said so, Vivian suspects that he wants to run into a pureblood while they're here, if only to make his day a little brighter with some proper Death Eater harassment.
"Well, stay close," Sirius responds, though he doesn't sound very concerned. They are, after all, in a large crowd, and even if they do run into someone they know, it isn't as if said someone can do anything about their presence. They can't very well start firing stunning spells at them in the middle of the Ministry of Magic – not unless they want to expose themselves for the Death Eaters they are. This is probably why Sirius hadn't tried stopping her; he's half hoping that this is exactly what will happen, even though he knows that the likelihood isn't very high. Slytherins don't operate with that sort of recklessness, usually. He would know. He's become a bit of an expert.
"James owled me this morning, by the way," he tells her as they head to the lift that will take them deeper into the Ministry. "He wants to take a rain check for tonight."
Vivian shoots him a raised brow. "He's the one who wanted to get us all together, and now he's backing out?"
They were supposed to meet the other Marauders at a muggle pub that night. Vivian had done her utmost to pretend not to be excited about it for the survival of her reputation, but in truth, she had been looking forward to venturing out into the muggle world. The last few Order meetings had brought them to the heart of muggle London, but they hadn't had the time nor the inclination to go exploring. Besides that, she does have to admit that she had grudgingly been looking forward to seeing the Marauders too, though she had made certain to pretend otherwise. Reputations are very important, you know, especially when dealing with pests like James Potter.
Sirius shoots her a faint smirk and drawls, "Do I detect a hint of disappointment in your voice, Vivian?"
She rolls her eyes, shouldering past him into the lift and sending a Slytherin glower at a man who is already standing inside. "As if I'd ever be happy to see your ridiculous friends," she grumbles, but her voice lacks the same hardness that it used to possesses, back when she might have said those words with more resolution. Sirius's smirk widens.
"Right, right," he murmurs, keeping his voice low as he joins her on the crowded elevator. "I guess that means you're happy enough having only me for company." He grins at the scowl she throws at him.
"You know, I've been playing around with a spell that only allows specific people into the wards we've set up. It's an alteration of the Caterwauling charm, without all the ruckus." Vivian crosses her arms and arranges her expression into one of boredom as she stares at the doors of the lift, which remain open as several additional Ministry employees hurry to enter it. As everyone shuffles about to give them room, Vivian leans against the back wall and finishes, "I wonder what would happen if I banned you."
Her mouth threatens to twitch up when Sirius turns to eye her, half inclined to take her threat seriously. One can never be too sure, he has learned, when it comes to Vivian Blair. Of course, the cool manner in which she delivers her threat rather lessens when the elevator doors abruptly swing closed and the entire thing lurches upward. When Vivian, who had been casually leaning against the wall and entirely unprepared, grabs a fistful of his shirt to prevent herself from falling, the only thing that threatens him is the renewed grin that spreads over his face.
With a full-blown smirk curling over his mouth, Sirius swings an arm around her waist to steady her and murmurs, "Please. I doubt you'd last a day without me, Godric."
Vivian pauses just long enough to summon another scowl, but alas, the force of it is further lessoned from the slight embarrassment that can be faintly detected in her eyes. She elbows him, casts a glance around the elevator to see if anyone had noticed, and wraps her fingers around the cool metal bar that extends around the entirety of it. She notably doesn't attempt to wrangle his arm from around her waist, though, which is not lost on him.
"I could last plenty of days without you," she mutters at him, just because she can.
He snorts. "I give you a week, tops," he nonchalantly responds. "After that, you'd probably burn the house down trying to turn the oven on with magic."
Ah, well, Vivian might have tried that a few times over the past few months, but to be fair, she's never actually worked an oven before. Sure, she vaguely recalls learning that magic doesn't work on muggle appliances, but she'd dropped Muggle Studies the first moment she could back at Hogwarts, so her new life requires something of a learning curve. Anyway, she hasn't tried using Incendio to start a fire in the oven for a while now, ever since Sirius had explained to her what 'electricity' is, and how 'muggles use these things called wires, which connect to this thing called propane, which the muggles use to heat their homes'. That conversation had been illuminating, if not a bit circular, as Sirius hadn't been able to answer any of the other questions she'd had concerning how all of these things actually work. The muggle world is a lot more complicated than she'd thought.
"...I haven't tried doing that lately," Vivian grumbles at him, and ignores the widening of his smirk when he realizes she has nothing better to say. Damned Gryffindor. Her annoyance fades somewhat when she feels his thumb brushing against her hip, though, and a bolt of warmth slivers through her. She doesn't look at him, and he doesn't look at her, but somehow he still manages to cultivate a quiet intensity in his touch even though they are hardly alone. It's a feeling she'd never felt before he barreled into her life; a sort of silent affection which doesn't need words to be drawn forth. She feels her halfhearted scowl twitch into a tiny smile as they reach the first floor.
No one else pays them any mind, two young adults as they are, who clearly aren't Ministry employees. The others on the lift come and go. Sirius and Vivian remain toward the back until the cool voice overhead informs them that this is their stop. When the doors open, Sirius takes the lead and steps out into a rather shabby looking lobby, no more than ten feet across with several doors leading off of it. No one else follows them onto this floor. Once the lift closes its doors and shuttles off to its next stop, they are alone.
Well, sort of. No sooner than they step into the small, unimpressive lobby does one equally unimpressive witch come bumbling through one of the doorways, muttering to herself as she carries a strange looking box that she appears to be struggling with. Every few seconds, the box jerks a bit in her hands, as if its contents are attempting to come out. Vivian and Sirius both pause to watch the debacle, until the woman sees them and explains with a harried, "Enchanted muggle rubber ducks. Someone's idea of a joke, I reckon. Merlin, why I thought it was a good idea to work with that bizarre man, I'll never know..." She releases an annoyed grumble and sidesteps them on her way to the elevator, continuing her mumbles as she goes.
"...We are on the right floor, aren't we?" Vivian hisses at Sirius, eyeing the woman with a heavy helping of imperiousness. Then, with confusion tainting her voice, she adds, "And what in Merlin's name is a rubber duck, Sirius?"
Sirius shrugs, looking a bit lost by comparison, and responds, "Er. I think we're in the right place...and I think I'll let James answer that question." The faint amusement in his voice doesn't bode well. She decides that it would be in her best interest not to ask Potter after all.
They are indeed on the right floor, however, which they discover the moment they file through the leftmost door and into the smaller corridor beyond. Moody's haphazard directions, which he had barked at Sirius during the last Order meeting the week before, seem to have some merit to them, because they do appear to be in the right place. On the wall of the corridor that they are now walking down are dozens of 'Wanted' posters with faces of witches and wizards printed thereon, with warnings scrawled on the parchment below their photographs. Things like 'Is known to use Confundus charms – use memory wards if seen', and 'Do not engage and contact the Auror Department immediately'.
"Charming décor," Vivian drawls, eyeing the wall with a growing sense of unease. She doesn't recognize any of the faces, but she isn't surprised about this. Many of her previous acquaintances in the pureblood world are suspected Death Eaters, but until the Ministry has enough proof of this, the Auror Department can't issue an arrest or warn the public about them. Not unless they want to outright declare war, that is. For now, the posters extend only about halfway down the corridor before they disperse.
Sirius grunts. "Too bad we didn't bring a photograph of your father. We could've added him to the list."
The joke isn't in very good taste, mainly because Vivian is well aware that he isn't actually joking, but she snorts anyway. It isn't as if she disagrees.
"If only I had pictures of the lot of them," she mutters in response, thinking of Bellatrix and Rodolphus, of Malfoy and the rest. If only it could be that easy, just a simple act of pinning a photograph to a wall; a few seconds spent on a seemingly menial task, ignoring the red tape set in place to distribute the Ministry's authority on the people, to safeguard the general welfare of the citizens. For the handful of those 'suspected' Death Eaters that Vivian bears witness to, she wishes that she might bend the rules this time. To make an exception.
Alas, though. One exception always leads to another, until a rot takes hold of society; the slow cumulation of agendas too disparaging and secretive to understand in the moment of their inception, but all too apparent when those secrets cast off their shadows and step into the light. Only then it is too late. The rot has already festered within the foundations, and those seemingly insignificant exceptions are at the heart of it.
With a sigh, Vivian continues down the hall with Sirius at her side. The corridor opens up to an office space, with multiple cubicles lining the area. Several busy looking wizards are rushing about holding rolls of parchment. One is carrying what looks like some sort of Dark Detector, though he passes too quickly for Vivian to get a proper look at it. Her father had a few of those instruments in his study, pressed between the books on his shelves. They had been a source of amusement for him and little else. There is no real need for such things when you welcome in the Darkness.
They hear Mad-Eye's voice suddenly bark out an order several cubicles down, and Sirius turns to glance at Vivian before striding forward, weaving around the space in search of the man. Vivian is quick to follow, especially when she receives several looks from the Aurors who see her. They are careful, measuring looks, quickly administered before the eyes turn away, but she can feel those eyes return to her the moment her back is turned and it makes her ill at ease. Surely, they don't know who she is? But then again, if they deal with Dark wizards on a daily basis, then they must know of her father...
The glance that Moody sends her when she appears behind Sirius in the doorway of his cubicle is a little too similar for her liking.
"Blair. Didn't know you'd be tagging along," he gruffly greets, his magical eye spinning around a few times before settling on her with unnerving focus.
She feels slightly irked at the way he says 'tagging along', as if he thinks she has nothing better to do than to follow Sirius about wherever he goes, until she realizes that this isn't very far from the mark. After all, what has she done these last few months? Hide away in the cottage and pretend to busy herself with making it livable while Sirius leaves her behind to help the Order? The few times she had approached Dumbledore after meetings to speak about what she can to do assist the cause, the wizard had brushed her off with a gentle, 'Your father is still searching for you, Vivian. Best keep to yourself for now'. She's starting to grow tired of it.
Sirius sends her a glance before saying, "I didn't think it'd be a problem if she came with me."
Moody doesn't respond for several seconds. Instead, he casts another look at Vivian and studies her, as if he's trying to unravel her thoughts. She sends him a raised brow meant to challenge him, but it only makes his eyes narrow just so and it doesn't appear to help her case.
"Well," he finally grunts out, still eyeing her, "sit down, Sirius. You've got fifteen minutes before I have a meeting with the other Aurors. Can't give you any more time than that." He waves his wand and conjures an uncomfortable looking wooden chair for Sirius to sit in, then turns back to Vivian to say, "Best not wander about, Blair. You don't want to run into any of your...acquaintances."
Vivian stiffens, and not only because of Moody's obvious dismissal. With a narrowed gaze, she forces out, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sirius coughs and opens his mouth to speak, but Moody cuts him off with an unapologetic, "You know well enough what it means, Blair. This place is full of pureblood elites and you'd be smart to keep to yourself. You shouldn't have even come here to begin with."
The words 'keep to yourself' spin through her mind. She grits her teeth, lifts her chin, composes her expression into the very same 'pureblood elitism' that Moody had just mentioned, and starts to say, "I can go wherever I – "
"Vivian, he's just being cautious," Sirius quietly interrupts, much to her annoyance. He steps over to her and, in an undertone, murmurs, "Look, I'll meet you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. Mad-Eye is right - don't wander around by yourself."
Vivian stares at him, feeling frustrated, but Sirius only stares back and doesn't waver. She feels, abruptly, as if they're back in one of their shared detentions, on the brink of another scathing argument, ready to hurl insults and hexes at the other. They aren't, though. They're in the Ministry of Magic, and they're being watched by dozens of Aurors who seem not to trust her because of her family name, and she doesn't want to prove them right by acting out in a childish fashion.
"Fine," she responds lowly, her voice cold enough to make Sirius pause and eye her. "I'll just wait in the lobby, then."
She casts one last glance at Moody before turning on her heel and marching out of the Auror department, seething as she goes. She knows she's being a bit childish despite her desire not to be, but frustration tends to draw such things from its bearer. If she's being honest, she isn't even frustrated that Moody doesn't want her listening in on his conversation with Sirius, even though the meeting is only about Sirius's desire to become an Auror. What she's really frustrated about is how this seems to be becoming a common situation for her. Being left out, that is.
Do they not trust her? Hasn't she proven herself to them already, by walking away from her pureblood life? Is that not enough for them? They must think it a simple thing to do, abandoning your home and your inheritance, your foundations and your family. They must think it as easy as breathing.
In truth, it's a lot harder than she had imagined. Perhaps it wouldn't be, if she had an assignment for the Order, something to work towards and focus on, but so far she's been kept at arm's reach. She's been allowed to attend meetings, so they must trust her to some extent, but that's about it. She feels listless. Without purpose.
This isn't the life she had expected.
With a grunt, Vivian storms into the lobby, silently seething at the thought of Moody's careful eyes upon her, and the eyes of his fellows as they had watched her leave. Her exit had drawn their attention again, but this time, they hadn't averted their eyes in an attempt to appear nonchalant. No, instead they had watched her until she had disappeared down the corridor full of wanted posters, as if they thought that perhaps her face deserved to be among those papers. Even then, the photographed eyes of those criminals had stared at her through the lens of their invisible cameras, not giving her any peace. Is this what she had signed up for? To be mistrusted and watched, just because she's the only Slytherin in the Order?
With gritted teeth, Vivian marches to the lift and slams the button to summon it. oh, yes, she had told Sirius that she'd wait for him in the lobby, but when has she ever listened to Sirius Black?
"Don't wander about by yourself," she mutters with a scoff, repeating Sirius's final words to her before her departure. "As if he has any right to worry about me when he follows Death Eaters around London in his spare time," she scornfully adds. Really, he should know better than to give her a direct order. He knows her well enough that he shouldn't be surprised when she turns around and does the exact opposite, just to spite him.
Damned Gryffindors, the lot of them.
She enters the lift and presses a random button on its panel, shuffling back to lean against the wall of it. As she does, her anger fades somewhat. Here in the silence and solitude of this small contraption, she allows herself to admit that Sirius hadn't meant anything by his order, and that really, it had been more of a request than anything else. It's only that she's frustrated with the fact that she hasn't been given any actual work to do for the Order. The notion that she still hasn't proven herself to the other members rankles her. She had left her entire life behind, everything familiar to her, so as to help their cause and live the life she wants. She knows better than anyone what's at stake should Voldemort win this war. She's been in the midst of his most trusted followers. Hell, she'd nearly married one of them.
This is precisely why they don't fully trust her and she knows it. Moody looks at her like that because he's wondering if she had spent too long in that darkness. He wonders if it has well and truly corrupted her, and if she's only here because she's using the Order to help Voldemort. She's not blind to this. She'd have to be completely stupid not to see it, obvious as it is. Still, Sirius isn't to blame for it. She shouldn't take her anger out on him. He trusts her.
Head swimming with the sting of her fading frustration, Vivian feels a quiet exhaustion sweep through her as the cool voice of the lift announces, 'Department of Magical Education: Committee of Experimental Charms, Department of Magical Artifacts, Magical Maintenance Department, Research Committee, and Wizarding Examinations Committee'. As the voice lists the various departments on this floor, the doors of the lift open and several people clamor inside. Vivian remains where she is, staring gloomily at the opposite wall. The door close and she glances around at her new traveling companions, her lip curling up distastefully at the thought of her peace and quiet being encroached upon. A rather rotund wizard shuffles into the spot in front of her and reaches up to hold onto one of the handles that drops down from the ceiling, shrouding much of her view. She glowers at the back of his balding head as her lip curls higher. With a huff of impatience administered beneath her breath, Vivian shuffles to the side in an attempt to create more space between them. The scent of his stale body odor is not pleasant. But when she begins her sideways exodus, her eyes land on two men who are now standing at the front of the lift, and the sight of the familiar head of black hair makes her freeze where she stands.
She has seen that face before. Those shoulders. That expensive cloak. She's seen him at many a pureblood gathering, turning up his nose at her father for his decision to withdraw Vivian from the contract the two men had agreed upon at her birth. She has seen him lingering by his wife, a most irredeemable woman, who had always eyed Vivian in a manner entirely too hawkish for her liking, as if measuring Vivian's ability to live up to the legacy of the Noble and Most Ancient house of which she hails. Yes, she has seen him. And he isn't alone. The last time she had seen Abraxas Malfoy or Orion Black had been at the Christmas Eve party held at the Malfoy estate. Though that had been over seven months ago, neither of them appears to have changed in the slightest.
Thankfully, their backs are facing her as the lift begins to move towards the next floor, but Vivian still holds her breath as she shifts back to where she had been standing a moment before. She's suddenly grateful for the large wizard who has taken a stand in front of her. If nothing else, his presence provides some measure of cover. The two men don't seem to realize that she's there at all, having entered the lift after her unknowing savior. She stares hard at the floor, clenching her fingers around the bar of the lift that she's leaning against, and concentrates on what they're saying.
" – Not happy. Not at all," Orion is muttering.
His voice is loud enough to reach the back of the lift, though she seems to be the only one paying attention. The man in front of her is more interested in the files he's holding in his hands, and has begun to shuffle the papers around as he waits for his stop.
"Well, he's been planning this for close to a year now, after all," Abraxas returns in an equally quiet voice.
Orion lets out a low grunt. "The real question is whether she meant for this to happen or not. If I didn't know any better, I'd – "
The man in front of Vivian suddenly drops several of his papers. He releases a muttered curse and bends down to pick them up, drawing the attention of Orion and Abraxas. Vivian, suddenly reeling with the fear of being seen, promptly assists, ducking her head so that a curtain of her hair drops forward to shroud her face. Not that it makes a huge difference, though. After a cursory (and rather disdainful) glance over their shoulders, the two men turn back after exchanging a judgmental look.
"Ah, thank you, my dear," Vivian's unknown savior says when they both straighten up and she hands him several of the papers she'd retrieved. She sends him a thin smile as he turns back around and resumes shuffling them back into order. The sound effectively drowns out the continued conversation being had beyond, which makes her wonder if perhaps 'savior' is too generous a word. Salazar, couldn't the man wait until he leaves the lift to riffle through his files?
" – Regardless, we'll get to the bottom of it, and then everything will be set right," Abraxas murmurs.
Orion hums. "One can only hope. I hate to think what he'll do if he has to change his plans – "
Unfortunately for her, the remainder of Orion's sentence is further drowned out by the cool voice from the intercom, which announces the next floor.
'The Atrium, Lower Courtrooms, Regulation Committee for Hearings, and the Office of Public Welfare.'
The elevator doors open with a jittery flourish. Vivian tentatively peers around her unknowing savior and watches Orion and Abraxas exit the lift. She frowns and turns her eyes forward, down the long corridor that opens into the Atrium. For several brief moments, she does nothing but stand there, clenching down on the metal bar, staring at the back of Orion Black's head. What would Sirius say if he knew that his father is here at the Ministry? The answer comes quickly: he'd say that she ought to get as far away from him as possible. He'd probably also remind her that he'd told her not to wander around, that this is exactly what Mad-Eye had warned her about. The Ministry of Magic is full of her pureblood brethren. Whether power is, so are these men.
Yes, he'd tell her to stay on the lift and return to the floor where the Auror's office is located. He'd tell her to keep to herself. But Orion and Abraxas's conversation just now had sparked something within her. Though they never spoke outright about their meaning, she knows they were talking about Him. For some reason, Voldemort is displeased. Why? Something he's been planning for nearly a year is being foiled, and someone is to blame for it.
She supposes that she probably should stay on the lift and listen to Sirius's predictable warning, but listening to Sirius Black has never been something she's much cared to do in all the years of their schooling. Sure, their relationship is much changed these days, but that doesn't mean she ought to obey everything that leaves his mouth. And besides, she feels an itch rise up within her – a desire to know more of Orion's meaning. A need to understand what is hidden. Oh, it is both blessing and curse for a Slytherin heart, this desire to stay one step ahead. A failsafe and an affliction, and not easily ignored at that.
Just as the elevator doors are beginning to shut, Vivian darts around the large wizard and slips through them, stepping into the dark corridor that Orion and Abraxas are now reaching the end of. The gates of the lift slide shut with a resounding click, and a moment later, she hears it shuttle off to its next stop, leaving her there in the echoing stillness.
She pulls her cloak tighter around her frame to ward off the telltale chill from being underground, and steps forward. After spending so many minutes in the clanging, shuttering lift, the silence in the corridor feels almost oppressing. She is struck with an odd sensation that she has stepped through some sort of invisible barrier, into a world where she is not meant to be. At least, not anymore. To step back into it is jarring. It is like waking up from a dream that agonizes you, only to forget the source of your agony the moment your eyes flutter open.
She reaches the end of the hallway and glances into the Atrium, a round room with a tall ceiling. Several closed doors surround the walls, emptying out into the chamber. Orion and Abraxas are walking towards one even now, the former waving his wand to swing it open. The hems of their cloaks disappear beyond, and Vivian hurries to cross the room and follow. There are several other people lingering here and there within the space, witches and wizards loitering about dressed in long black and maroon robes with silver badges pinned to their chests, but no one pays her any mind as she passes through them, and she doesn't pause to study them either. Her eyes remain trained on the door that Orion and Abraxas have gone through, singularly intent on keeping up with them.
When she slips through it, she finds herself standing in yet another long corridor, but this one is lit with several sconces of magical fire, whose blue flames cast a cold and eerie glow upon the walls. The feeling of otherworldliness presses upon her yet again, and she shuffles closer to the wall, finding solace in a patch of darkness that blends in well with her dark cloak. It feels bizarre, hiding like this in the Ministry of Magic of all places. This is not a pureblood manor with its many hidden doorways and nondescript passages, and yet the mere presence of the two wizards in front of her makes it feel startlingly similar. She is swept through with the sensation that she ought not be here, but she wrangles it down lest it spark her into cowardliness, and silently shuffles forward.
The corridor, she soon realizes, is home to the lower courtrooms. She learns this when she draws near one of the doors and hears the proceedings within, but doesn't linger. These are the public courts, as far as she recalls, and she's allowed to be here just as any other is. The thought quells the thundering of her heart somewhat, but not entirely, especially when she reaches the end of the corridor and peers around the corner. Her heart gives a lurch when she sees Orion and Abraxas standing about halfway down the adjacent hallway, but they aren't the reason for her quickening heartbeat. Head bent together, the two of them seem to have come down here for a reason, and that reason happens to be standing beside them, murmuring to them in a low voice that Vivian has to strain her ears to hear.
He is much the same as he was several months ago. Broad-shouldered, physically imposing, with his dark hair and dark eyes and dark arrogance. It seems to drip from his form, transforming him from a seventh-year Slytherin student to...well, to what? From the looks of it, Adrian Mulciber appears to have gotten a job, but it certainly isn't the sort of job that Vivian would have expected him to pursue. He wears the same black and maroon robes that mark the standard dress of an attorney of some kind. An official looking badge is pinned to the chest of his robes, identical to the ones the other witches and wizards in the Atrium had been wearing.
" – Father suggested me because I know how to handle her," Adrian is saying. He sounds smug, for some reason. Gloating and amused.
Orion snorts. "Are you quite sure you don't have enough to do here? You're a man of the people, now, after all." In contrast, his voice is judgmental and arrogant, drawling with a generous helping of sarcasm, as if he believes his own acerbic description to be ridiculous. Vivian is inclined to agree. A man of the people, indeed.
Abraxas reaches out to clasp Adrian's shoulder. "What Black means, of course, is that you have many allies should you need...assistance." Then, casting Orion a look, he adds, "Besides, we need men in the courts and you well know it, Orion. It's the one place we haven't managed to overtake yet."
Orion Black doesn't appear to care for his colleague's reminder, for he gruffly mutters, "The boy could've gotten a higher position with his father's influence. What use is he now? He doesn't even represent high profile people – "
"Yes, which is why no one looks at me twice," Adrian interrupts with a scoff. He crosses his arms over his black and maroon cloak and drawls, "Our Lord wanted me here. Or do you doubt his plans?"
Vivian frowns, casting another glance at the badge pinned to the chest of his robes. Well, this answers the question of what an ambitious man like Adrian Mulciber is doing in a job with such low visibility. Not that attorneys aren't important, but it's a rare thing to see a son of a prominent pureblood starting at the lowest rung of the ladder. Nepotism runs rampant in pureblood circles, where power is currency and the key to success. Obtaining wealth isn't the goal – her fellow purebloods hardly need to go out of their way chasing money and fame – rather, the desire to rule and manipulate is where true ambition leads them. This is why the thought of Adrian working in the lowest level of the Ministry, representing clients who are hardly worth his time, is so jarring a thought.
"Regardless," Abraxas smoothly cuts in, "we came to inquire into your plans, Adrian. You were given quite a task. How do you intend to accomplish you orders?"
Adrian shrugs the older man off with a dry and overtly disrespectful, "Leave that to me. I know how to deal with blood traitors."
Abraxas eyes him distastefully. "...Your days of bumbling around Hogwarts hexing Mudbloods is at an end. You're in the real world, now, with real consequences."
Adrian's eyes flash with equal distaste. "Like I said, I know what I'm doing," he responds in a clipped tone, clearly not appreciating the insult administered by his elder.
Orion raises his chin and peers down at Adrian through narrowed eyes. "There's no shame in asking for assistance." Then, pausing, he glances at Abraxas and drawls, "But I can see that the young master is eager to prove himself. Come, Abraxas. I believe we've spent enough time in this...dismal place." He eyes the darkened corridors with a curled lip.
Several parting words are exchanged, but Vivian doesn't linger where she stands at the corner. If she's seen by either one of them in this quiet corridor, there's no telling what might happen to her. Though this is the Ministry of Magic, the halls are, at the moment, empty, and she knows better than to stick around in a place where there are no witnesses. She turns and hurries down the corridor from which she came, her palms clammy and her heartbeat still jolting unnaturally in her chest. She feels cold and drawn even as she reenters the Atrium. The gleaming silver badges that are proudly pinned to the robes of the witches and wizards still making their way through the space seem soiled, somehow, after she had seen the very same badge on Adrian Mulciber's chest.
So that's what he's been up to. In truth, she hasn't given him much thought since graduating Hogwarts. Why would she, when she's been too focused on discovering herself in her new life? She's made a marked effort to remove herself from the pureblood circles, and to not follow the news with too much proximity lest she be swept back into those circles. Yet now, as she bustles across the Atrium, hoping to reach the lift before Orion or Abraxas see her, it feels strange how welcoming the familiarity of her old life is. How a part of her, however small, yearns for more of that familiarity, if only because she knows how to navigate it with far more prowess than her current life.
Her mind is spinning with too many thoughts when she enters the lift. A quick glance beyond the doors of it tell her that the two purebloods are nowhere to be seen, but it is only a small comfort. How does she piece together everything she had heard? Who is the blood traitor that Adrian seems to have been tasked to locate, and what purpose does Voldemort have in finding this person? Does it have something to do with what Orion and Abraxas were murmuring about before, on the lift? She's sure that it does. In fact, she's positive of it.
Her fifteen minutes have long expired, and Sirius will no doubt be looking for her, annoyed that she hadn't taken his words to heart. She can't bring herself to feel bad about it, though. She's far too busy mulling over what she had heard to give much of a thought to Sirius's potential frustration. She's sure that she had overheard something important, something that will be of help to the Order, yet she feels a quiet sort of unease pressing into her as she contemplates it.
For, though she has no concrete evidence to give the theory any weight, Vivian has a strange and foreboding feeling that Adrian was talking about her.