Chapter Eighteen | Amo ut invenio
[I love as I find]
The weekend following the mission at the Lawrence Court Theatre is slow and lazy. Pulling an all-nighter has effectively mucked up their sleep schedules somewhat, for they spend the majority of Sunday afternoon catching up on sleep. Well, Vivian does, anyway, or at least she tries to. Sirius is annoyingly bright-eyed for having spent the night before dodging killing curses, and he is still annoyingly bright-eyed on Monday morning, which just so happens to be a work day. Conversely, Vivian is still groggy and exhausted, which is not exactly conducive to Sirius's current mood. This is mainly because when she is tired, she is impatient.
"Did you not hear me before when I told you I was going to be late?" Vivian dryly wonders when he corners her against the counter and attempts to swoop in to kiss her cheek.
She needs to leave in ten minutes and she isn't at all ready yet. She'd just barely managed to take a quick shower and dry her hair without burning it all to a crisp and she still hasn't eaten anything for breakfast. Sirius, despite having been awake long before her, apparently hadn't been paying attention to the time, for he hadn't thought to wake her up. The moral to the story is that her being late is all Sirius's fault, obviously.
"Yeah, I heard you," he replies breezily, hardly batting an eye when she pushes him away in favor of rummaging through the cabinet for an insulated mug that she means to fill with some tea. She doesn't have time to sit down for some before leaving and she's not about to subject herself to the tea at the break room because it's foul.
Sirius pulls his wand from his pocket and waves it idly towards the kettle, which promptly begins to heat up. Then, throwing Vivian a boyish smile, he muses, "You're in a terrible mood this morning, Viv."
Vivian shoots him a look. As she sets the mug down onto the counter and turns to their selection of tea, she mutters, "Your finely honed ability to notice such a thing is truly spectacular, Sirius."
He laughs at that, totally unfazed at her grumpy tone.
"Mm. It's a bit too early to deal with moody Slytherins, if you ask me," he returns, just as breezily as before.
"I didn't ask you. Now would you please go and get my work case? I think it's in the sitting room," Vivian mutters, throwing some tea into the mug and then turning to decide what her breakfast options are.
Sirius isn't very good at taking orders.
"You can grab it on your way out the door," he shrugs. "How about a bagel?"
She huffs at him but merely sighs, "Fine." Then, glancing at the clock, she grumbles, "Actually no, I don't think I have time. This is all your fault, you should've woken me up."
He just shrugs again and replies, "You needed your beauty sleep."
At this, Vivian pauses, sends him a narrowed look, and demands, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sirius smirks and snickers, "Merlin, Vivian, you always think I'm insulting you. You need to relax – wait, don't forget your tea!"
She rolls her eyes at him and stops in the doorway of the kitchen. Sirius quickly pours the hot water into the mug, grapples with the top, and strides over to where she's standing. A quick smile later and he's swooping into deliver that kiss at long last, and though Vivian is still a bit annoyed at him for that 'beauty sleep' comment, she doesn't try to stop him this time.
"I need to go," she tells him when he draws her closer.
"Mmhmm," he hums against her mouth.
She stares at him for a moment before huffing and reaching up to thread her fingers into his hair and pull him back, kissing him properly. Then, with the clock counting down her remaining time, she sighs and says, "See you later?"
Sirius sends her one of his bright-eyed smiles and returns, "Yeah, later. And if Mulciber tries to pawn off more of his work, do me a favor and send a tripping hex at him, yeah?"
This makes Vivian's mouth pull up into an amused smile, which is precisely Sirius's goal.
"I do know a couple of good tripping hexes," she thoughtfully muses.
He nods, "Yeah, I know."
His voice is just sarcastic enough to make her smile turns to a smirk. Memories of their many altercations at Hogwarts briefly flash through her mind before Sirius is chuckling at her and pushing her towards the door.
________________________________________
"You've got the hearing with Mr. Attenbury at noon, then you're meeting with Mrs. Jones for lunch at two to discuss her – "
"Situation with the neighborhood thugs, yes I remember," Adrian Mulciber mutters at her as Vivian stands in front of his desk and drones off his schedule for the day.
She eyes him for a moment before reminding him, "The neighborhood boys. She could be making all that up."
Adrian releases an amused scoff and returns, "Doubtful. She seems like the sort who'd be targeted like that."
He leans back in his expensive chair and twists a quill idly in his hand. Vivian pretends not to notice the way he's staring at her and instead flips to the next page of the schedule while she mutters, "It almost sounds as though you've got prior experience, Mulciber."
He smirks at her and drawls, "You must think poorly of me if you think I'd leave dog shite on someone's doorstep. I'm not that boring when it comes to matters of revenge."
This time, she can't quite help herself from lifting her eyes to hazard a glance his way. She immediately regrets it, of course. Mulciber is still staring at her from across his desk, and upon arriving at the topic of revenge, his eyes are now gleaming subtly. Their eyes meet briefly before Vivian drags her attention back to the schedule in front of her, steeling herself as she scans over the page with what she hopes is a thoroughly unconcerned air.
"I thought my thinking poorly of you was a given by now," she tells him, hoping she looks adequately busy as she taps her finger against the page and rereads the text before her.
Across the desk, he hums, "It's a bit difficult to tell, with you. You do have a tendency of insulting people you actually like, after all."
Her eyes snap back up to stare at him, this time with a more indignant expression. She certainly doesn't appreciate him attempting to call her out. And anyway, that isn't even true! She compliments people plenty. No more than they deserve, that's all.
"Let me be clear with you, then," she briskly responds. "I do think poorly of you, and I don't like you."
The corner of his mouth tilts up into another one of those maliciously amused smiles. Seeing as it hadn't been her intention to summon that particular look, Vivian can't claim that she's pleased to see it. Still, she'd also like to finish up with his schedule so that she can go back to her own office. Out of all her new duties, this part of the job is one she dreads the most.
"Like I was saying," she mutters, "Mrs. Jones is meeting you at the Hallberg Café in Dia – "
"Had a late night over the weekend, Blair? You look knackered," Adrian drawls before she can finish, eyeing her with that malicious gleam in his eye.
Vivian pauses again, sighs, and raises her head to spear him with another look. "I did, actually," she replies, her voice drenched with impatience. If she's hoping said tone might mask the slight wariness that she feels at him having asked such a question, and so knowingly at that, Vivian is disappointed. He seems to hear it nonetheless, or perhaps he sees it play out in the crease of her eyes, for his smile only grows a bit larger.
"So did I," he murmurs at her. His voice is almost a purr. One might even describe it as gentle had it belonged to anyone other than Adrian Mulciber. He smirks at her and adds, "I went out to the theatre, you see."
Vivian pauses yet again, this time because she isn't expecting him to come out and say the very thing they've both been alluding to. It's such a simple set of words, innocent even. Anyone who might have overheard it would have merely put it down to small talk between coworkers, and if they had stopped to consider why Adrian's expression is so full of that dark amusement, they would have perhaps supposed that it had been a bad evening out, and left it at that.
Vivian knows better, of course. She also knows that she is currently being tested.
"Oh? That's funny. I saw a show, too," she murmurs back, catching his eye and holding it despite every muscle in her body ordering her to look away and leave. She can't, though. She knows Adrian doesn't trust her, and maybe he never will. She knows she's on thin ice right now, not only here within his office but also working at the Ministry in general. She knows, also, that nothing she can say will actually do anything to gain his trust. The way to secure such a thing from Adrian Mulciber isn't through words but through actions. See, she knows a thing or two about him as well, which is precisely why Vivian lowers the schedule to her side and leans against his desk a moment later, quipping a humorless smile his way.
"It was a bit of a mess, though," she tells him. "I swear some of the actors completely ignored their scripts. Badly done, if you ask me."
He raises an eyebrow at that, leaning back in his chair so that he can incline his chin up. The movement succeeds in making it appear as though he is looking down on her despite Vivian being the one standing.
"That's strange," he muses. "I thought the very same thing. Especially when one actor in particular ended up disappearing before the curtain call."
Vivian sends him an intrigued look that's obviously fake and drawls, "Maybe that particular actor had another show to get to."
They stare at each other for a long moment before Adrian murmurs, "Mm...that's the thing about theatre, I suppose. You never know when the show truly ends or whether there's an encore on the way."
Her mouth curves up just so. She's itching to turn on her heel and leave, but instead she forces herself to stay perfectly still and respond, "You should've gotten a job as a critic, Mulciber. I think you missed your true calling."
He snorts out a laugh at that, but his eyes are just as flat as they'd been before. Her attempt at making light of the whole thing hadn't worked, then. In truth, she hadn't really expected it to.
"Well, one good thing came from the show, I suppose," he says suddenly, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair as he studies her. When she lifts an eyebrow in question, he shrugs, "It's now a little bit clearer who the good actors are, and which ones are terrible at reciting their lines."
She stares at him. In a voice that is very close to being dangerous, Vivian replies, "I hope you aren't inferring anything about that particular actor you mentioned before."
Adrian merely smiles at her, though, and crosses his legs in a more relaxed position, as if he's abandoning all attempts at his silent little power plays.
"I'm merely saying that the next show will be much more engaging," he tells her. "Perhaps we'll both have front row seats next time."
It's impossible to decipher his true meaning, though Vivian certainly makes an attempt in the moment. She feels lost even as she tries to, overturning his words again and again within the span of those few seconds of silence. Whatever hidden insight she might gain from them are not to be found here, however, and so to avoid making her confusion apparent, Vivian lifts her chin a bit and says, "Perhaps we will."
His eyes gleam at her again, and for a moment, she wonders if she'd made a mistake in responding after all. But then he's leaning forward and crossing his arms loosely over the desk's surface, and he nods at the abandoned schedule. "What were you saying about Mrs. Jones? Ah, right, the Hallberg Café. I think you should accompany me. It'll be good for you to see how an attorney conducts business outside of the office."
Vivian purses her mouth and, in a tight voice, replies, "I'm not sure I have time to go to Diagon Alley today. I'm a bit behind on cases after you unloaded all that paperwork on me last Friday."
The slight accusation in her words only makes Adrian smile all the wider. He sends her a look and stands up, brushing the wrinkles from the front of his trousers before he says in a slightly judgmental way, "You can tell me if it's too much for you to handle." Then, before she can respond to this or question his sudden generosity, no matter how sarcastically it had administered, Adrian is sweeping around his desk to take her shoulder and turn her towards his door.
"I'll swing by your office at a quarter to two," he tells her as she's pushed into the hallway. Their eyes meet briefly before he warns, "Make sure you've got all the paperwork relevant to this case."
Then, just as Vivian is opening her mouth to complain and demand that he goes to meet his client alone, Mulciber is shutting the door in her face, and all she can do is glare at the plaque attached to it with gritted teeth.
_______________________________________________
Mulciber's lunch appointment goes just as Vivian expects: terribly. She supposes that, as far as the actual meeting with Mrs. Jones, everything turns out well enough, but beyond that...well, let's just say that Adrian and Vivian still haven't managed to get on equal ground yet. He makes a snide comment about how frazzled she looks when he comes to collect her in her office (so not true, she looks fine, damn it) and continues the passive-aggressive remarks all the way to the café itself. They arrive before Mrs. Jones, but instead of ordering any food as Vivian expects, Mulciber just asks for two pints of butterbeer and makes her pay for hers. Vivian, who hadn't eaten lunch yet because she figured she'd be eating here, is quite hungry at this point, and the butterbeer is definitely not enough to curb that hunger.
Mrs. Jones, when she arrives at ten minutes past two, looks far more frazzled than Vivian and makes a bit of a ruckus joining them at their table. To Adrian's thinly veiled annoyance, she rattles on for a good five minutes straight about how she'd found another pile of dog shite on her doorstep just last night.
("I nearly trod right into it on my way to talk to my neighbor, who'd just come back from holiday, you know, and it would have been quite rude of me not to go and ask her how it went and whether she got waylaid at one of the portkey stations and all – Merlin, but don't you just hate how long those lines can get? – and anyway, I daresay it wouldn't be dramatic to claim that I've ruined a dozen pairs of shoes by now – oh, and you haven't introduced me to your acquaintance yet, Mr. Mulciber, is she your secretary?")
Vivian hadn't much appreciated being called a secretary. Coupled with her hunger and irritation to be forced to sit at the same table as Adrian Mulciber, she had sent Mrs. Jones a glower that would have surely caused offense had the woman on the receiving end of it bothered to take notice. As it so happened, though, Mrs. Jones had scarcely glanced Vivian's way before flagging down the waitress and ordering a hearty meal before returning to her rattling in short order.
Vivian's irritation had only grown from there, of course, seeing as she would have liked to order something too – but the moment she had turned to catch the waitress's attention, Mulciber had sunk his elbow into her side and put a swift end to her attempt, muttering something beneath his breath about getting this over with just as soon as possible and not wanting to wait for her to finish eating. Mrs. Jones, naturally, hadn't noticed this underhanded rebuff, for she had already begun to launch into a description of the shape, size, and odor of the dog shite, which by the by, had only ended up making Vivian lose her appetite altogether.
As for seeing how an attorney operates outside of the office, Vivian cannot claim to be impressed by the whole affair. Adrian certainly has a way about him and it is decidedly not charming. The only saving grace to be found had been the simple fact that Mrs. Jones is remarkably poor at picking up on social cues. She doesn't seem to take notice of Adrian's growing annoyance, nor does she seem aware that he keeps attempting to ask her questions that do not require a full minute's worth of unnecessary details involving what she had been wearing at the time and what her precise thoughts had been just before the incidents had taken place. By the end of their appointment, his attempt at politeness is hardly perceivable at all, and Mrs. Jones is the only one who hasn't taken notice.
They part ways with her before the hour is up, having apparently gotten what they need from her to continue the case. Vivian isn't sure what that is, exactly, but as per Mulciber's order, she'd spent the hour taking notes and jotting down what she supposed to be important details. Mrs. Jones agrees to meet with Adrian at his office in one week's time to go over the case he'll be putting together, and as she takes her leave, she bids goodbye to 'the secretary – I can't recall your name, dear, I do apologize' – which makes Vivian smile in what she supposes must resemble some manner of politeness. (It doesn't.)
After that, her and Adrian head back to the office, using the floo network at the Leaky Cauldron so as to save a bit of time passing through security at the Ministry's main entrance. After shuffling onto the lift, Mulciber throws an edged look at the notebook in Vivian's arms and gruffly wonders, "How in Merlin's name did you manage to take that many notes? She hardly said two words worth writing down."
Vivian snorts, "I was trying to look busy. It's mostly doodles."
A brief silence falls between them at this blunt tidbit of honesty before Adrian mutters, "You really shouldn't admit that so callously, Blair. It's bad form and all."
Vivian sends him a dry look and returns, "Oh, I'm sorry. What part of the last hour should I have written down? The fact that Mrs. Jones was wearing her raincoat on the third morning of her dog shit sightings?"
Adrian doesn't seem to have a response to this, for he merely shoots her a glower before returning his gaze to the doors of the lift.
Vivian leans against the back of said lift and mutters, "Are all your cases like this? I'm beginning to see a pattern here."
With a haughty sniff, Mulciber denies, "No. I've had a couple of good ones."
The rest of his sentence hangs in the silence following his staunch denial: that he's had mostly bad ones.
Vivian might have found this amusing had she been in a better mood. As it is, though, her appetite has come back at full force, along with a headache from having to spend so much time listening to that woman rattle on about absolutely nothing. She isn't currently inclined to find any amusement whatsoever in Adrian Mulciber, so she just remains silent until they reach the Atrium several floors down and shuffle out of the lift.
Adrian glances over at her and gestures to the notes she's holding. With an air of distaste, he orders, "Go through that and see if there's anything useful. Have it on my desk by tomorrow morning."
And, despite an urgent desire to tell him to stuff it, Vivian just purses her mouth and gives him a reluctant nod. She glowers at his back as he takes his leave of her, even more annoyed than she'd been before. Before the afternoon appointment, she couldn't imagine why Mrs. Jones would bother bringing this situation to court at all. It seems as if the only possible outcome would be to file for a misdemeanor and fine the boys responsible, though even that might be difficult seeing as they're underage. She suspects that Mrs. Jones' entire tactic is to simply make noise about it and attempt to sow fear into the boys' hearts, but the whole thing is incredibly annoying for Vivian, who has to actually assist in creating a feasible case that she can't see actually getting anywhere.
For the purpose of her own mental sanity, she puts the case aside for the rest of the afternoon. Mulciber had said to leave the organized notes on his desk in the morning. She can't imagine that it will take more than a few minutes to pick out potentially relevant details, so she'll just finish it when she gets to work tomorrow. In the meantime, she focuses on other things, dallying away the rest of her afternoon on other cases and more important matters. She ends up going to the break room soon after her return to the office to scrounge around for something to curb her hunger, then shuts herself in her tiny cubicle to while away the last two hours of work.
Each minute that passes is more torturous than the last one. She hadn't had a good start to her day and she isn't having a good end to it, either. Or so she thinks, anyway. Her foul mood takes a bit of a turn when she packs up her things and heads to the main floor of the Ministry with the intent of apparating home. Just as she's passing the large fountain that towers over the center of the marbled foyer, her eyes drift to a figure that is quite familiar to her, and her bad mood shifts to accommodate a generous helping of pleasant surprise.
The woman is sitting on the edge of the fountain with several folders in her lap, her head bowed over them as she peruses the contents. Vivian would recognize the large frame and short hair anywhere, and, given the fact that she hasn't seen her since graduating Hogwarts, she makes an abrupt turn to beeline over to her.
"Mauve?" she calls, approaching her with a smile that is decidedly less sharp than most of the ones she'd summoned that day.
Mauve McCallum starts at the sound of her name and looks up with furrowed brows. When her eyes land upon Vivian, the confusion clears and is replaced with an equal helping of pleasant surprise, for she hadn't thought to see her old classmate here.
"Vivian," she greets. As she closes the folder, her eyes drift over the Ministry robes Vivian is wearing. The badge pinned to the front of them catches her attention soon after, and she lifts her eyebrows as she questions, "You got a job here? I had no idea."
Having never been close enough to keep in contact after graduation, they've rather lost touch in the months following. Mauve's surprise to discover Vivian's new position is therefore hardly surprising, and Vivian just shrugs and glances down at her badge with an expression that isn't half as impressed as Mauve's is.
"Yeah, well, I only just started a few weeks ago," she replies, turning her attention back to Mauve. "It's a bit of a long story, really. What're you doing here?" she wonders, now casting a curious glance at the papers in Mauve's lap.
The response is a slightly awkward, "Oh. Er, well, I'm applying for a position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I wanted to play professionally, but I didn't make it, so...this is my back-up plan."
Vivian hums and swiftly replies, "That's great. I had no idea you were trying to get into the League. Shame they didn't accept you, you're one of the best Beaters I've seen."
This sudden and rather unexpected compliment seems to take Mauve by surprise, for she doesn't seem to know how to respond to it and merely sends Vivian another awkward smile before falling into silence. Vivian isn't fazed by this and merely goes to sit down on the edge of the fountain next to her, setting her case by her feet before wondering, "I take it you just picked up the application? When are you planning on handing it in?"
If Mauve is surprised that Vivian isn't immediately taking her leave, she doesn't show it. In fact, she seems rather grateful for the conversation, for she turns to Vivian with a less awkward smile and responds, "The end of the week, probably. I'll need to get a few recommendations first."
"Oh, well, I can ask Dumbledore for you if you'd like," Vivian immediately replies.
Mauve stares at her. It takes a moment for Vivian to notice, but when she does, she just asks, "What?" in a slightly clueless voice.
Mauve's awkwardness is fast disappearing when she raises a skeptical eyebrow at Vivian and points out, "I thought you hated Dumbledore. You said he was a second-rate wizard who bumbled around Hogwarts like a dementia patient."
Vivian pauses, then clears her throat and responds, "I don't think I said any of that."
"Yes you did."
"No, I mean, the dementia part sounds a bit familiar but – anyway, do you want the recommendation or not, McCallum?" Vivian grumbles, spearing her old classmate with a look.
Mauve, despite her amusement at Vivian's attempted forgetfulness, sits straighter and nods, "Yeah, of course. I'll definitely get the job if Dumbledore himself recommends me – but how're you close enough to ask him?"
Vivian brushes off Mauve's question and just responds, "Oh you know, connections and all. I'll send you an owl, yeah? What's your address?"
Mauve turns to search for a spare bit of paper for which to write it down. Vivian helps her out, opening her case to procure an empty roll of parchment. She hands it off to Mauve and, a moment later, is rolling it back up with Mauve's address written in the top margin.
"Thanks, Vivian, this is really brilliant of you," Mauve tells her as Vivian slips it back into her case. "It's nice seeing you again, too. I haven't run into any of our classmates yet. Do a lot of them work here?"
Vivian shrugs. "I don't know, I haven't seen anyone besides Mulciber."
This admission naturally has Mauve pausing. The thought of Adrian Mulciber working in one of the Ministry's departments certainly doesn't sound very pleasant, especially given her own history with him back at Hogwarts. It's hardly any surprise that Mauve would want to keep as far away from him as possible. Though he hadn't targeted the members of his own house nearly as much as the others, Mauve's questionable blood status and background has never been in her favor.
Vivian sees the look on Mauve's face and waves it off with a short, "Don't worry, he works in the Department of Law, with me. I doubt you'll see him. The Ministry's a huge place, after all."
This doesn't appear to assuage Mauve's worries overmuch, so Vivian adds, "The Department of Sports is on the other side of the Ministry, Mauve. Honestly, there's no need to worry about it."
Mauve sends Vivian a nod. She still looks a bit concerned about the whole thing, but Vivian just stands up and pats her leather case with a short, "Look, I've got to run. I'll owl you this week sometime. Let me know when you're planning on handing your application in and maybe we can get some lunch or something, yeah?"
Mauve's expression turns a shade warmer. She smiles and replies, "That'd be nice. Thanks, Vivian."
Vivian just shrugs and says, "Of course. See you around," before taking her leave. She sends Mauve one last look before disappearing into the crowd, feeling much better than she had only minutes before. Running into Mauve McCallum had certainly not been something she'd expected, but it's nice to talk to a fellow Slytherin. Being constantly surrounded by Gryffindors does make a person tired, you know. They're all so annoyingly energetic and all.
This point is further driven home when she apparates back to Tinworth and makes her way down the path that leads to the cottage, which rises up in the near distance once she crosses through the protective wards. Its overgrown features are a welcome sight to her after the long day she's had, and for a moment, Vivian pauses to admire the cottage in a way she never has before. She has started to like it, really, even if there is an unnaturally large number of muggles nearby.
The thought of being home after such a long and tiring day bolsters her mood, and Vivian lets herself inside with a faint expression of relief to be back in familiar settings. All is quiet inside, until she hears the sound of something clattering in the kitchen. With this destination now firmly in mind, she tosses her work case onto the lumpy couch Sirius had managed to procure from one of those second-hand shops he'd been going on about and goes to greet him. When she arrives in the doorway of the kitchen, however, she is reminded of that little notion regarding energetic Gryffindors, and finds herself lifting an eyebrow skeptically.
Sirius has practically overturned the kitchen. The little table in the center of it is loaded with pots and pans. A knife is magically chopping up what looks like red pepper nearby, with a bowl placed next to the cutting board to collect the chopped pieces. The magic is a bit faulty, though, because only a very small portion of pepper ends up in the bowl. The rest ends up strewn over the counter and floor. Sirius himself is standing in the center of it all reading one of the cookbooks Lily had foisted on them months before, which has only been opened a handful of times before Vivian had given up entirely.
She clears her throat loudly to get his attention and drawls, "What the hell are you doing?"
He must not have heard her entrance, for Sirius ends up startling a bit. He spins around to face her, then glances at the mess he's making, and shrugs, "What's it look like?"
She pauses, then bluntly responds, "It looks like you're trying to cook again, which means we'll be spending the rest of the evening scrubbing soot marks off the wall when the oven inevitably catches fire."
Sirius turns a page in the cookbook, and nods, "That about sums it up, yeah."
Vivian tries not to roll her eyes at his nonchalant acceptance of this likely future, and just sighs, "I thought we both agreed that we're terrible cooks and should avoid the kitchen at all costs."
He shoots her a grin and puts the cookbook down to reply, "Yeah, but today is a special occasion."
At this, Vivian's eyebrow lifts up again. She doesn't get the chance to ask what this special occasion is, though, because Sirius is already reaching over to take a roll of parchment and handing it to her with an excited gleam in his eyes. His excitement only grows when she goes to unroll it, her curiosity overpowering her desire to inform him that the chopped pepper is now hurtling across the room and hitting the far wall with a building vengeance. Whether he notices this or not, she isn't completely certain, for he's watching her read the letter with all the eagerness of that energetic Gryffindor she'd mentioned before.
"Mr. Black," Vivian reads aloud, "We are sending this letter to inform you that, upon considering your application, you have been accepted into the Auror Training Program – oh, that's – "
She doesn't get to finish, because Sirius is quickly chiming in with an excitable, "Brilliant, right? I was starting to wonder what was taking them so long, you know?"
Vivian hums and reads the rest of the letter, smiling a bit at his enthusiasm. It's mainly to do with what's expected of him, when his first day is, and a brief synopsis of what to expect at the orientation. When she reaches the end, she rolls the parchment back up with a wider smile and says, "That is brilliant. I knew you'd get in."
He grins back and playfully scoffs, "Obviously. I'm a great dueler, you may recall."
Vivian sniffs, "If you're referring to the duels you and I had back at Hogwarts, I'd like to take a moment to remind you that – "
"I won most of them," Sirius cuts in with an amused gleam in his eyes.
"You won a few of them," Vivian amends.
"I won practically all of them save one or two."
"I'm fairly certain I won most of them, actually."
"You didn't. You're remembering it wrong."
"I think you're remembering it wrong."
"Vivian, I know it's hard for you to admit that you aren't the best at something, but this time I have to tell you that – "
"We'll have to celebrate your acceptance into the program, of course," Vivian purposefully interrupts. "I have the perfect idea."
This perfect idea of hers naturally distracts him from the need to inform her that he's the better dueler (for now, at least), for Sirius tilts his head at her and wonders, "Oh? What sort of celebration did you have in mind?"
There's an undertone of innuendo in his voice, which he makes more obvious when he waggles his eyebrows at her and reaches to circle his arms around her waist. Vivian rolls her eyes at him and says, "I was thinking more along the lines of a nice game of Beat the Beater."
The suggestion makes Sirius pause. The innuendo drops away from his voice, only to be replaced with a hearty dose of confusion when he repeats, "Beat the Beater? Am I supposed to know what that is?"
She smirks, and he knows he's in for it.
"It's a game," she informs him.
"Yes, you said that already," he responds.
"It's a game involving a bludger and two beater's bats, which Morrigan and I created back in fifth year," she continues.
"If it was created by two Slytherins, it must be borderline psychopathic," he muses, though doesn't immediately reject the idea. Actually, he looks vaguely fascinated.
Vivian nods, "It is. The rules are simple: the first person to get bludgeoned off their broom loses."
Sirius lifts an eyebrow at her and quips, "So let me just get this right. You want to celebrate my acceptance by bludgeoning me?"
Vivian shrugs and drawls, "Well, if you don't think you'd be able to beat me, I suppose we could just take a walk or something."
When it comes to convincing Sirius Black to do something, there's nothing quite as efficient as assuming that he'll automatically fail. It typically makes him all the more determined to succeed – something she had learned very quickly within the first few confrontations they'd had in their first year of Hogwarts. Since then, it wouldn't be false to claim that Vivian has become rather adept at challenging Sirius to do whatever it is she wants, simply by cajoling him into it via a bruised ego. That isn't to say that she always came out on top during the scuffles that had followed, of course, but she certainly knows how to prod him into them.
"Your memory is awful today, Godric," he sniffs. "You forget that I was the best Beater Hogwart's has ever seen."
And just like that, he takes the bait.
And he thoroughly regrets it. He should've known better than to take part in one of Vivian's batshit crazy games, especially knowing that Morrigan Flint was co-creator of it. And especially since she'd decided to up the ante by having them play it over the ocean. And also especially since Vivian has had several years to perfect her strategy concerning said game, which naturally means cheating.
"Oi!" he hollers at her after dodging the bludger as it passes an inch away from his head. "No head-shots! And I saw you use your wand, don't den – bloody hell – "
As he dodges the bludger when it comes back around in a sudden swerve, Vivian taps her wands against her leg and smirks viciously at him.
"I told you, the only rule is not to get knocked off your broom," she calls, looking altogether too smug as she watches him duck out of the bludger's way once more. The smug look disappears when he manages a good hit though, sending the bludger hurtling in her direction.
So far, they've both been lucky (despite Vivian's blatant cheating). There was one close call in which Sirius had nearly lost his grip on his broom, but he managed to fall into a feint he'd learned during his Hogwarts Quidditch days and saved himself at the last minute. Vivian hasn't had any such close calls, but she did almost drop her wand into the ocean, which gave her a bit of a scare and made her lessen her cheating somewhat in favor of not losing it.
The sun is sinking closer to the horizon by the time a proper hit is made. Both of them are admittedly getting a bit tired of the game at this point, having been out here a good hour already and both hungry to boot. It's almost a blessing when Sirius slams his bat into the bludger and sends it ricocheting towards Vivian, a bit more purposefully than he necessarily means to. Vivian is very nearly unseated when she has to make a sudden feint by falling upside down mid-air, and unfortunately for her, she ends up dropping her Beater's bat into the water in the process. A split second is afforded to thank Merlin that it hadn't been her wand before she realizes that the bludger is zooming back in her direction and she really ought to move lest she wants to be bludgeoned right into the sea.
What happens next is wonderful, in her opinion. Sirius doesn't necessarily agree, at first anyway.
Within the span of a handful of seconds, Vivian recenters herself on her broom and darts forward towards Sirius. Now bereft of her bat, she'll have to use other means to win. No matter – the bludger chases her over the water, zipping along in her wake with a vengeance. Sirius doesn't even have time to dodge before she's flying by him, so close that she nearly rams into him entirely. After that, it's history.
Or, at least, it will be, because Vivian Blair is not about to let him live this one down.
The bludger knocks into Sirius's abdomen, hard enough to send him flying backwards into the water. His shout of surprise gets drowned out by the ocean as he's pushed under the waves. Vivian's shout of success is not, unfortunately for him when he resurfaces, struggling to hold onto the bludger as it attempts to wrangle free from his grip.
"Merlin's bloody arse, woman," he complains, scrunching his face. "I think I nearly broke a rib!"
He spits water out of his mouth as he gains his footing. They aren't so far out that they can't stand up in the water, so Vivian isn't overly concerned that the bludger will drag him under the waves. It does look like it's attempting to, though, so she decides to help him out and flies over to where he's floating.
"Here, let me shrink it," she tells him, drawing her wand. Sirius sends her a glowering look (he's a sore loser, as usual), but doesn't complain and simply holds the bludger out a bit to give her more room for the spell. A moment later, it's the size of a walnut, and much easier to hold on to.
"My broom's floating out to sea," he grumpily tells her as he shoves the shrunken bludger into his pocket.
Vivian retrieves it for him and hovers nearby to hand the broom over. She can't quite help herself from boasting, "I probably should've told you – I've never lost a game of Beat the Beater."
The smug tone makes him narrow his eyes at her, which should have been warning enough for what's coming. This said, Vivian is still surprised when Sirius reaches over to take the proffered broomstick and, before she's released her hold of it, jerks her forward. He feels a little bit better about his defeat when she tumbles head first into the water with an indignant yelp. Watching her splutter up to the surface and shove her wet hair out of her face does take the edge off a bit.
"You tosser!" she cries, and swims over to him to give him a good shove.
He laughs, releases his broom, and grabs her around the waist to pull her under the water. She starts issuing a complaint, but it gets lost in the ocean before it can be voiced.
Sirius, evidently, had not broken a rib, otherwise he wouldn't be laughing as he wrestles her into the water. Vivian therefore doesn't feel at all bad for him when she retaliates. Their game morphs into a more childish effort to one-up the other by shoving them under the waves as often as they're able, until finally Vivian cedes with a loud, "You win, you win – I think I've swallowed half the ocean by now – can't believe this – "
Hearing that he'd won at least one of their battles is naturally all Sirius cares about, annoyingly competitive Gryffindor as he is, and so he doesn't attempt to stop her from swimming over to grab their brooms, which have by now floated some ways away from them. After that, they make their way to the shore, where Sirius flops down on the beach with a hearty sigh and reaches down to rub at his abdomen.
"You got me good, Godric," he tells her, though he doesn't sound quite as grumpy about it as he had before.
Vivian pushes herself onto her elbow to look at the bruise that's starting to form and offers, "Want me to heal it for you?"
"No, I'll survive," he tells her, though he doesn't stop her from leaning over to feel the bruise and make sure his ribs are intact. Then, when she reckons he's fine, she presses her palm over his stomach and shifts closer to him with a faint smile.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she wonders, lifting an eyebrow at him.
Sirius pauses, studies her for half a moment, then clears his throat and says, "Actually no. I feel terrible. You should definitely make up for bludgeoning me like that."
She hums in agreement and slides her hand up his torso to tangle into his wet shirt. Then, after studying the way the setting sun is glowing over him so perfectly, she leans down to kiss him there in the sand, with the gulls as their only witness.