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Author: Caleb Nova Story: That Terrifying Momentum Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 267,976
Harry immediately complied with Scott’s direction and took a sharp turn into an adjacent corridor. The move neatly avoided yet another cluster of girls anticipating his arrival beneath an inconvenient batch of mistletoe. “Don’t look back,” Scott advised Harry. There was a second of silence as Scott listened closely for the sound of approaching footsteps. Hearing nothing, he relaxed. “I think you’re good.” “This is a bloody pain in the arse,” Harry complained. “Whose idea was it to put up mistletoe in the first place?” “Not mine. That stuff has way too much mysticism attached to it for being such a stupid little plant.” The more Scott thought about mistletoe the more he started getting into the subject. “Plus everybody has to kiss under the mistletoe but nobody does it well, you know? Nothing kills the mood like mistletoe. Mistletoe means your hot girlfriend will give you the kind of kiss you’d get from your grandma.” “That wasn’t really what I was thinking, but at least you agree with me.” The pair was headed towards the library for an impromptu study session, though there were ulterior motives. Scott knew Harry was seeking out some peace and quiet in the stacks away from the ever-present eyes of his many admirers. Slughorn’s Christmas party would take place the following day, and Harry still hadn’t asked anyone to go with him, a fact that stirred up considerable anxiety amongst a large portion of the female student body. The pressure was on the Boy Who Lived, and he wasn’t handling it well from what Scott could see. Scott’s presence was due to a request (or, perhaps more accurately, desperate plea) from Harry for accompaniment. Understanding that the last thing Harry needed was to be caught alone by any girls, Scott acquiesced. “Are you even going to ask anybody?” Scott questioned Harry. He didn’t bother to introduce the relevant topic for the inquiry. Harry knew exactly what he meant. Harry looked despondent. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I went by myself, would it? Who would care?” “I can think of any number of people who could possibly care quite a bit,” Scott said, “friends and enemies. It’s up to you, but I think you should ask someone.” “I wish this wasn’t so hard. You’d think I’d be better at it after the Yule Ball.” Scott braced himself and casually suggested, “Ask Ginny.” Sure enough, Harry glared at him. “I thought I told you to let it alone?” “You want me to ask her for you?” “No! Look, just shut up about Ginny already. I don’t want to hear it.” “Would you do it if I ghost wrote a poem for you to give her?” “What did I just say? Sod off about Ginny!” Harry said angrily. “Would you do it if it was a good poem?” This time Harry didn’t bother answering and instead upped his pace, leaving Scott behind. Scott let the smile he had been hiding spread across his face as Harry fumed ahead of him. “Would you, could you, in a box?” Scott mumbled through his grin. “Would you ask that red-haired fox?” Harry strode angrily through the entrance to the library, and Scott jogged to catch up. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for libraries. The allure of accumulated knowledge was timeless, and even while he followed Harry past the shelves of books, he had the urge to pick one out at random. The sheer size and depth of the Multiverse guaranteed that no matter how long a lifespan you had, it was impossible to learn everything. Even if a person somehow managed to learn absolutely all that had ever happened in the past, the rate of new information being created would exceed the speed at which it could be absorbed. Every single world was in itself an eternity of study. That didn’t mean Scott couldn’t try. In the study area of the library, Harry and Scott found Hermione working on one of her many essays. Scott did a quick survey of the surroundings, but Ron was nowhere in sight, an odd occurrence. Harry dumped his book bag onto the table and Scott followed suit, sliding into a seat across from Hermione. “Hey Hermione,” Scott said, looking around again. “Where’s Ron?” “You just missed him,” she replied. “He went back to the common room--which reminds me...” Hermione put down her quill and looked at Harry quite seriously. “You’ll want to be careful when you go back, Harry.” Harry returned her look warily. “What? Why?” “I was in the lavatory earlier--” Hermione began. Scott leaned forward with exaggerated eagerness. “Do tell!” “--and overheard several girls talking about you,” Hermione said, pausing to give Scott a narrow-eyed warning, “including that Romilda Vane. They’ve all bought those love potions from Fred and George’s shop, and you can expect them to be used. I suggest you don’t consume anything offered to you.” Scott forced himself not to laugh at Harry. The poor guy was already suffering, and now Hermione’s dire prediction turned him decidedly pale. “And you didn’t take the potions from them?” Harry said incredulously. “They didn’t have them at hand, Harry,” Hermione snipped at him for daring to question her confiscation abilities. “Why don’t you just ask someone so the rest will settle down? They’re getting desperate. You won’t be able to eat or drink until tomorrow night at this rate.” “Easy for you to say,” Harry grumbled. “You had someone to ask.” “Kids with love potions.” Scott shook his head. “That’s just plain wrong. Still, look at it this way Harry – better they try to slip you a love potion than Bremelanotide or cantharidin or, God forbid, Flunitrazepam. You should be thankful your admirers are going to be offering you love-potion-laced food instead of hiding in a dark alley with a syringe full of Ketamine.” Harry ignored Scott out of long practice, but Hermione immediately latched on to the scientific terms. “Those are all chemicals, aren’t they? What do they do?” “They make Harry grateful for comparatively undamaging love potions,” Scott replied without actually answering her question. “Harry, she’s right. You gotta get off your ass and ask someone to the party.” Harry stubbornly set his jaw. “We went over this a few minutes ago, and nothing’s changed since then.” “Wrong!” Scott exclaimed triumphantly. But before he could tell Harry why he was wrong, the long nose of Madam Pince came into view, bringing with it her furious countenance. “You will speak quietly in the library!” she hissed at Scott venomously. “I will?” Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “If that’s what I will be doing, then what should I do now?” Madam Pince appeared to literally choke on her own rage. Hermione quickly intervened, probably for fear that the woman would suffocate on the spot. “We’re very sorry,” she said with a level of sincerity that Scott was sure he could never achieve. “My friend was—um—overexcited about the topic of his essay. It won’t happen again.” With some effort, Madam Pince drew another breath. Her beady glare moved between Scott and Hermione – apparently she couldn’t decide whether to trust the exemplary student or punish the one with the smart mouth. “See that it doesn’t,” she said finally, pausing before she turned around to give Scott one last nasty look. Once the librarian had left, Hermione gave Scott an equivalent look of her own. “Why do you do things like that? We might have been kicked out!” “I was just asking a simple question,” Scott sighed with vast dishonesty. “So why am I wrong?” Harry prompted. “Hmm? Oh, right. You’re wrong because Hermione is here. She wasn’t here before, therefore something has changed.” “Pure semantics,” Hermione dismissed his argument. “You’d still agree with me if you knew what we were talking about,” Scott told her. Hermione raised a doubting eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?” “Don’t,” Harry said immediately. “I was telling Harry that--” Scott began. “Don’t start.” “--he should ask Ginny to the Christmas party,” Scott finished. “Bollocks,” Harry said, and laid his head down on his crossed arms. “You’re right; I quite agree,” Hermione said firmly. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” “Perhaps it doesn’t matter to you,” Harry said, voice muffled by his arms, “but Ginny already has a boyfriend, and it isn’t me.” “You can still invite her as a friend,” Hermione pointed out. “Exactly!” Scott agreed. “Friends with privileges. Fuck-buddies, I believe the arrangement is sometimes called. Though certainly not by me, heavens no.” Hermione took on the severe, tensed up look she always did whenever Scott talked like that. “That really isn’t necessary,” she scolded him, “and it’s hardly likely to encourage Harry.” Scott made a rude noise of disbelief. “Not encourage? I’ve yet to meet a teenage boy who wouldn’t go the distance for a chance to pop a cherry!” “I’m ignoring you,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly. Turning to Harry, she said, “It really wouldn’t hurt to try.” “It really might,” Harry sighed, lifting his head. “And I can’t, alright? I can’t, and I won’t. Stop asking.” Hermione clearly wanted to say more, but under Harry’s steady gaze, she closed her mouth and picked up her quill. Being Hermione, she still had to have the last word. “If that’s what you want, Harry. But you know what I think.” “Oh yes,” Harry said sarcastically, “I know what you think.” The rest of their time in the library was spent working. While scribbling down some musings that didn’t really relate to the subject matter he was supposedly studying, Scott saw with amusement that Hermione gave Harry’s customised copy of Advanced Potion-Making more than one dirty glance. It wasn’t that Scott was blind to the controversy caused by Harry’s book, but he honestly couldn’t see the harm in it. He had examined the text on several occasions and, to the best of his ability, could detect nothing particularly important. The object simply was not one of any Priority. Scott knew that there was a chance, however slight, that the universe was concealing it in order to prevent interference, but without a solid reason, he didn’t want to take the book from Harry. Removing the book could have just as severe consequences as leaving it alone. Some time later Scott leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out, releasing a sizable yawn. “The library is going to close in a few minutes. Should probably pack it up.” Madam Pince must have had the same idea because she re-emerged from somewhere back in the depths of the library right after Scott finished talking. “The library will be closing shortly,” she began. Then she spotted Harry’s book lying on the table, and things quickly deteriorated. “What have you done to that book, you depraved boy?” The librarian lunged for the textbook with a grasping hand, and Harry quickly yanked it back beyond her reach. “It’s not the library’s; it’s mine!” “Despoiled!” Madam Pince hissed. “Desecrated! Befouled!” “You forgot ‘profaned’, ‘defiled’ and ‘vitiated’,” Scott noted impartially. When Madam Pince turned her vicious glare on him he blandly returned it. “What? You’re not the only one with a thesaurus.” “Out!” Hermione grabbed both Scott and Harry by their shoulders and hurriedly dragged them towards the exit. “Of all the stupid things…” Hermione fussed at Scott once they were free of the library’s forced whispering. “I won’t be surprised at all if you’re banned after this.” “Like she could stop me from getting in if I wanted to,” Scott scoffed defiantly. Some small portion of Scott’s mind knew in a detached sort of way that he was being childish. While he had always possessed that aspect in some varying amount, this current level of insouciance and pride was most likely a side effect of becoming a teenager again. Those vague and distant realisations didn’t stop him from acting out anyway, of course. Hermione huffed out a breath in exasperation. “You wouldn’t need to if you’d just keep your mouth shut! I swear, for someone who’s supposed to be undercover you’re not very good at avoiding attention.” “I’m just keeping it real.” Scott shrugged. “Madam Pince has always been barking mad anyway,” Harry said. “It’s not all his fault.” “You’re right!” Hermione agreed a little too quickly. “If you hadn’t brought that book of yours--” “I’m not listening to this again!” Scott pushed his luck one more time. “Would you rather talk about how you’re going to ask Ginny to the party?” Harry exploded. “Will you for once just shut it about Ginny!” The thunderous culmination of all Scott’s incessant pestering came at an unfortunate time. Professor Slughorn had just come around the corner and was bearing down on them at the exact moment Harry decided to let Scott know just how he felt. The corpulent Potions Master stared at them while the echoes of Harry’s fury faded away. “Professor Slughorn!” Hermione squeaked. She edged slightly away from Harry and Scott as if she could distance herself from any possible disciplinary repercussions. “Er, sorry Professor,” Harry mumbled. He turned his head for a fraction of a second to give Scott a white hot glare, which Scott felt wasn’t entirely fair since Harry had been the one yelling. “I sort of lost my temper…” “Oh, well, no harm done!” Slughorn chuckled genially, and much of the tension left the three students. “Lily had quite a temper herself as I recall – these halls were no stranger to her full voice, I assure you! Just coming back from the library?” “Yes sir,” Harry confirmed. “Excellent, knowledge is power, you know. Of course that would be no mystery to such a superior student of potions like yourself, I would imagine… In fact, I believe it was just yesterday I was telling – oh, but you’ll be meeting her at the party tomorrow night! It will be a marvellous time, no doubt whatsoever. Will you be bringing a guest?” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure yet. I might be.” Slughorn gave him a knowing smile. “Unsure of your affections, are you? Ah, to be young again… But always remember, Harry, there’s no shame in bringing a friend – good company is always preferable to none, I say! And speaking of which, fortuitous I should meet the three of you here…” Slughorn turned his attention to Scott, who personally thought it highly unlikely that the professor had happened upon the three of them by chance. “Just the lad I was looking for. I’m afraid I’ve neglected a proper introduction for the two of us, Scott – may I call you Scott?” Without stopping to see if he could indeed use Scott’s first name, Slughorn continued, “It was remiss of me to forget our resident American, I sincerely apologise! I, for one, have always been a strong proponent of international magical cooperation. I don’t suppose, in the interests of goodwill, you would attend my party tomorrow evening? Fine dining and superb discourse, I would greatly enjoy the chance to speak with you further….” “But I would be delighted to attend,” Scott said flamboyantly. “Cooperation is, after all, a principal duty of all civilised men.” “I have thought much the same thing myself,” Slughorn jovially replied. “Tomorrow night then! Feel free to bring a guest if you’d like. The more the merrier!” With a gracious nod to Hermione, the professor trundled off back the way he had come. Once Slughorn was gone, Harry turned to Scott. “Who do you know that would make him interested?” “Nobody, yet, with the probable exception of you,” Scott answered. “He’s scoping me out.” “Well, good, now you can suffer too,” Harry told him vindictively. “I don’t mind talking to Slughorn,” Scott said, disregarding Harry’s hostility. “It’s kind of fascinating – like conversing with a well-dressed walrus. I keep thinking he might shut up if I throw him a salmon.” Harry didn’t laugh. “I don’t think anything could make either of you shut up.” “Yeah,” Scott sighed. Harry was way too touchy about the whole Ginny thing. “You’re probably right.” “I suppose now you’ll have to invite someone, Scott,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Any ideas?” Despite a brief internal struggle, the devil in Scott won out. “I guess I could invite Ginny.” Without a word, Harry turned and stalked off down the hallway. “Harry!” Hermione called out after him, but he didn’t turn around. She levelled a sharp look at Scott. “Why did you do that? He asked you several times to stop!” Scott crossed his arms unrepentantly. “Don’t get all self-righteous on me, Hermione. You were bugging him about Ginny too.” “Not like that, I wasn’t. You can’t have honestly thought he’d put up with it.” Scott clenched his jaw in frustration. “He’s not cooperating. If he’d just grow some cajones and make a move, we’d be in business, but instead he keeps on dragging his feet every damn step of the way. And what the hell am I going to do about Dean?!” He threw up his hands, despairing. Hermione’s eyes revealed a dawning comprehension. “Wait a minute… you’re actually trying to get Harry with Ginny, aren’t you? And not just as a lark?” When Scott nodded in confirmation she drew in a quick breath. “But that would mean it was important….” “Another brilliant deduction by Sherlock Holmione.” Scott fiercely rubbed at his temples in a gesture of aggravation. “I tried basic psychology, I tried shaping, I tried attacking his pride, and now I’ve tried getting him to do it just to make me shut up. We’re dead in the water, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll just have to kill Dean to get him out of the picture.” “You wouldn’t!” Hermione gasped. “No,” Scott sighed, “I wouldn’t.” Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself. “That wasn’t funny, Scott, don’t even joke about things like that!” “Whatever,” Scott brushed her reproof aside. “Maybe Lil could fix this. Or maybe I’m screwed.” “Heaven forbid Harry come to terms with Ginny in his own time,” Hermione said tartly. “Yes, exactly.” Scott moodily gazed down the hallway where Harry had disappeared. “Heaven forbids.” On the way back to the common room, Scott considered his options. It was entirely possible that Hermione was, in her own way, correct. The universe could be intentionally stonewalling his efforts to accelerate the growing attraction between Harry and Ginny. Given the lack of impact he’d had so far, it was tempting to accept that conclusion. However, that was dangerous thinking. Just because something wasn’t working didn’t mean it was impossible – he might be doing it wrong. Rather than give up, Scott decided that he needed a new plan of attack. Since approaching Harry hadn’t yielded any results, he would try working with Ginny. He would also try and get his sister in close proximity to the two of them in case he was missing a significant avenue. By the time they reached the Gryffindor portrait, he felt a little better about the whole affair. Hermione was still rambling about relationships, or more specifically, the one between her and Ron. “… and after all, you’ve said yourself that most lives are carried out perfectly well without your interference. Ron and I had a bit of a bumpy start, but we managed to work things out. What makes you think Harry and Ginny can’t do the same?” Scott laughed cynically. “Oh yeah, you and Ron. A storybook tale. The fact of the matter is you owe Lila in a big way and should get me at least a gift card or something.” Hermione stared at him. “What are you talking about? It’s true that I do appreciate your occasional encouragement, but if you think a few crude comments on your part managed to compel Ron--” “You’d be surprised. It doesn’t really matter though because Lila’s the one who set you on the right path. That’s the fine art in the shaping, you see,” Scott said, meeting Hermione’s widening eyes. “It’s the subtle nudging that gets the most done.” “She nudged us?!” “It’s like walking on ice. Shove somebody, and all they do is fall over. Give them a gentle push and they start moving. It’s not like you have anything to complain about. You got Ron, my sister got to prove once again that she’s better at romantic manipulation than I am, and I got out of having to do it myself. Everybody wins.” Hermione was at an uncharacteristic loss for words, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Scott quirked an eyebrow at her. “Does it really bother you that much?” “…I’m not sure,” she said finally. “I don’t know what to think. It’s certainly a disturbing imposition.” “You can’t change what isn’t there to change in the first place,” Scott told her. “You can’t influence something that doesn’t exist. If Lila brought you and Ron together then it’s because that was already a possible, or probable, outcome.” Hermione considered that for a moment. “I suppose that makes me feel slightly better…. But I don’t think I could become accustomed to having my life controlled like that without my knowledge.” “You already are!” Scott scoffed at her opposition to the concept. “Your school, your government, your big businesses, your friends, your parents, your whole goddamn society. You are obliquely affected, influenced, directed. I’m not saying this is a good thing, I’m saying that’s just how it is. All you can do is try to find your own way. Even if your path is never fully your own, you still chose it.” “That’s just your opinion,” Hermione said stubbornly. “Not all of us see the world like that.” Scott shook his head. Hermione had a strong inbuilt resistance to the loss of control. That was healthy so long as she could still recognise the bigger picture, but apparently she didn’t want to see it. “Alright, whatever,” he grumbled. “Don’t listen to the guy with actual experience.” “I won’t, thank you,” Hermione snipped. “You may have experience but you’re far too pessimistic for any of it to be unbiased.” “Huh.” Scott frowned. “That’s pretty much what my sister said.” Hermione spoke the password and the portrait swung open to admit them. For whatever reason, the common room was fairly full that evening and the two of them had to step aside as a group left. Hermione looked at them disapprovingly for leaving with curfew closing in, but Scott rolled his eyes and pushed her through the portrait hole before she could say anything. Scott spotted Ron sitting by the fire, engaged in a chess game with a beleaguered-looking Harry. A box of some sort lay on the floor next to Harry’s feet, and Romilda Vane was hovering nearby with her flock of likeminded girls. Figuring that he owed Harry for what had happened earlier, Scott picked up a large chair and crossed the room to place it down next to the chessboard, blocking the view of the chattering females. “Gentleman,” he greeted Harry and Ron, “how goes the war?” “I could have used more advice for this particular one,” Harry said sourly. “You’re never around when I actually need you.” It appeared that Harry had cooled off at least a little bit. “Knight to D-4,” Scott recommended. “Will that help?” Harry asked hopefully. “Nah. This shit’s over,” Scott assessed. “The only thing now is to do as much damage as you can when you go down, so that the next person who fights him can finish him off.” “You do realise the board resets after a game,” Harry scowled, watching a now grinning Ron decimate yet another of his pieces. “I know,” Scott said lowly, “but were we talking only about chess?” Harry did not respond to that, but his face darkened, and he made little further effort to delay defeat. Ron must have picked up on the mood because he quickly finished Harry’s chess pieces off but didn’t ask for another game. “That’s game,” he said. “I’m going to go, uh…” Scott watched in amusement as Ron made a beeline for Hermione, who was ensconced in a nearby couch with yet another large tome. Turning back to Harry, he gave the other boy a small shrug. “What can you say? The man knows what he wants.” “Took him long enough,” Harry said, watching Ron casually drape a long arm over Hermione’s shoulders. Scott became more serious. “Harry,” he began evenly, “I know you’re mad at me, but if we could just be cool about this for a second… why won’t you make a play for Ginny?” “How many times have I had to explain this to myself?” Harry said under his breath. “She’s Ron’s sister. She’s Dean’s girlfriend. And most of all, she’s over me. I missed my chance. And how would I even go about telling her anyway? I’m not like you. I can’t just say anything I want and not care.” “I admit to a sometimes unfortunate conversational dispassion,” Scott concurred, “though I don’t really think I’m that bad. And it’s not the same when you’re talking about romance. You don’t know what I would be like in that situation.” Harry shook his head tiredly. “No, I guess not.” “More to the point, you’ve got to figure out how much you want her. If it’s worth fighting, for then fight for it. I know what’s been going on – you can’t get her out of your head.” “I’ve tried.” “And failed.” Scott raised his hands in ideological surrender. “I’ll shut up about it… well, for now. But you’re the one who has to live with her just out of reach.” Harry didn’t reply, his face holding the blank look of dark contemplation. Scott decided to leave him to his thoughts and went over to sit across from Ron and Hermione. “At least you two got it together,” Scott told them as he slouched in an armchair. “One more success story to my name.” “Your sister is the one who did all the work,” Hermione said tartly, looking up from her book. Ron didn’t seem to have any trouble following the conversation, and Scott figured Hermione had been outlining things for him. “Yeah, but as the MOFA on this mission I can take the credit,” Scott said smugly. “The Council never reads the FPRs, remember?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, so he added, “Field Performance Report. And Main Operative Field Agent.” “What’s the point of filling out a report if no one’s going to read it?” “The first job of any bureaucracy is to generate as much paperwork as possible. That way, when something goes wrong, they can always find someone to blame,” Scott explained. Hermione just looked at him for a moment. “Scott, you have a lot of very… interesting ideas, don’t you.” Scott grinned at her. “And that's why you love me, right?” To Scott’s surprise Hermione actually laughed. “I hate to disillusion you,” she countered, “but I’m already involved.” She closed her book and said to Ron, “I’ll be right back; there’s another book I want to start.” When she left to go up to her dorm room, Ron smiled at Scott. “Already involved. I like the sound of that.” “Yes, I thought you might.” “Hermione told me what your sister did,” Ron said. “I think you’d have worked it out eventually anyway,” Scott shrugged. Ron looked unconvinced. “Maybe. She was a bit upset about it. Me, I just wanted to say… thanks.” Scott started to rise from his seat, pausing to grin at Ron. “I need you to thank me – I get paid for this shit.” He headed for his dorm room, his mind now turned to more imperative matters. With the Christmas party looming ever closer, he needed to come to a decision concerning whom he was going to invite. Also of importance was getting Ginny to attend, if that was even possible. Scott knew the situation might be static. That left either acceptance or subterfuge. He’d have to make a call or two. Reaching his dorm room, Scott made sure nobody else was present before extracting his phone. He thumbed the speed dial button for Lila. It took four rings before she answered it. “Hello?” “It’s me. How’s the apartment?” “I haven’t touched your room, Scott,” Lila sighed, “it’s just the way you left it – a drywall box with a bed in it.” “And yet it still has more character than anything you could bestow.” “I suppose the absence of anything at all would aptly fit your persona. It’s like a description of your existence in room form.” “Give me a chance to work on it – I’ll actually have a little variety in my choices. I figure everything you own is pale pink, so you don’t accidentally walk into it, being colour blind to everything else.” He thought he could almost hear her roll her eyes. “And how exactly are you going to give the room personality when you don’t have one yourself?” “It’s not my fault,” he explained, “you have a vacuum effect on all life around you. My personality is blotted by the spiritual stain that you project.” She sighed again. “Was there any point to this call, or did you just want to trade unpolished insults that we haven’t had the time to mentally rehearse?” “Alright. Anything interesting happen lately?” “Earlier I was taking a crap and I ran out of toilet paper,” Lila said brightly, “so I finished with Q-tips.” “Now that’s the kind of ingenuity that makes a top field agent.” “Unlike you, I actually have things to do right now, so…” “To the point then,” Scott said. “I’ve obtained an invitation to the Christmas party tomorrow night and I need someone to invite.” Lila laughed at him. “And the best you can do is invite your sister?” “No! You’re on back-up duty. Your presence wouldn’t be particularly useful unless I can think of a way to get Ginny to attend. I’ll need to invite someone else, though who that is might change depending on the situation.” “I’m always glad to be your last resort,” Lila blandly intoned. “I know. Any amazing ideas as to who I should invite?” “You could always invite Strauss.” Scott blinked in surprise. “That’d be a little out of my way. What made you think of Strauss?” “You mean besides how the two of you have been molesting each other with your eyes for the past few millennia?” Lila sounded like she was highly amused. “Strauss happens to be over here at the moment.” “What?!” Scott barked out. “I didn’t give you permission to bring in an uninvolved FA!” “Cut the crap, Scott. What are you going to do, report me for insubordination?” Lila asked sarcastically. “You couldn’t face the paperwork. Despite your long held opinions I do have a life outside of you, O brother mine. Strauss wanted to see our house.” “Well, put the Strauss-house on the phone then. Quit hogging all the social.” “Strauss!” Lila called out. “Scott wants to talk to you!” There was a pause. “And no phone sex, I’m going to be standing right here, and I’m not listening to that shit,” Lila added while she handed over the receiver. “Lil!” a slight voice protested. “He can hear that!” “That’s the idea,” Lila distantly replied. “You really should start calling her by her last name,” Scott said into the phone, “she does it to you.” “Scott? You sound so young!” Scott had known many women over the course of his years, a fair number of them Kharadjai. Many were beautiful, and Scott had never been one not to appreciate art where he saw it. Existence on the bleeding edge of Kharadjai affairs was often bleak and lonely, and as such had fostered in Scott a certain admiration for the finer females in life. But no one had ever quite so consistently or constantly caught his eye as Sophie Strauss. “That might have something to do with me being young.” “Lila said you were younger for this mission,” Sophie recalled. “I guess I still didn’t expect you to sound like this.” “Give me a couple years,” Scott told her, “I’ll regain that low, sexy bass that sets you all aquiver.” “Oh Scott, you’re so irresistibly manly when you’re full of yourself like that,” she said sarcastically, but giggled anyway. Sophie’s own tone was very light and girlish, the kind of voice that Scott had often told her would be perfect for voiceover work. “I was never one to sacrifice ego for the sake of the mission.” “No, never,” she gamely agreed. “How is your mission going?” “It’s a work in progress. Actually, I just made a decision concerning it about five seconds ago,” Scott said. “And what’s that?” “I’m not going to try to get Ginny invited to the Christmas party. I think at this point jamming her into close quarters with Harry might actually hurt things. Harry’s a smart guy, he’ll know it was me.” “Would that matter?” “Yeah... Right now it would. I’m kind of in a tight spot, relationally speaking.” “You know if you need any help, all you have to do is ask,” Sophie told him. “It’s not a very hard mission when you get down to it,” Scott admitted, “but as long as you’re already offering, I may in fact have a job for you.” “What’s that?” “Will you go to a Christmas party with me tomorrow night?” Scott nearly pleaded. “I don’t want to go stag, Sophie.” “Hmmmm…” Sophie hummed thoughtfully. “It is tempting, but the age difference is kind of creepy…” “You’ll be aging yourself down to accompany me.” “Is that an order?” she teased. “Are you currently on assignment?” “Nope! I just got back from a test at Crane Hill.” “What did they want you for?” “They wanted someone who was at the Seven Gates collapse to be on site,” Sophie explained. “You and Lil were doing this, Kresser is still on leave, and I have no idea where Malin is, so I got called.” “Then consider yourself pulled for this OP.” Sophie hesitated. “Officially? I know you hate the paperwork, Scott, but I don’t want to get in trouble over this…” “Fuck the paperwork!” Scott declared. “This is a matter of my social standing! I need a beautiful woman to bring to the party tomorrow night, and I need one now.” “I’m not saying no,” Sophie stressed, “but I’d prefer it if you’d get permission like you’re supposed to.” “Oh for crying out--” “Please, Scott! You weren’t there when they got on to me last time. That might be how you like to finish your missions, but I don’t like getting yelled at!” “Fine, alright. I’ll make the call. Happy?” “Very,” Sophie answered brightly. “I’ll come get you when it’s time to go. Make sure you’re about fifteen or sixteen by then.” “I will. Do you want to talk to Lila?” “Do I ever?” “Yeah right…” Sophie giggled again. “If you guys couldn’t insult each other all the time, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves.” “I’d regain my self-esteem, that’s what I’d do,” Scott lied. “Talk to you later.” “Bye!” Scott stood in the silent room for a moment after ending the call, thinking hard. Excluding Ginny was a tough choice but the best one he could make. He needed to let things settle down before he pushed any more. Trying to force things into place was a good way to break them. He’d let it all drift for awhile and see where everyone ended up. His deliberations were interrupted when Harry emerged from the staircase, looking tired and hassled. The dark-haired boy gave Scott a warning glance, obviously not wanting to deal with any more meddling. Scott obligingly kept his peace. Whoever Harry did or didn’t invite to the Christmas party was no longer relevant. For the time being, Scott would allow events to occur naturally except in the case of a blatant emergency. He was sure that was a resolution that would be sorely tested. Nothing was more difficult than watching the action unfold when he possessed the capacity to change things. ***---~**~---*** Before breakfast the next morning, Scott slipped away from the trio to make his required call. With almost all of the student body occupied in the Great Hall, it wasn’t difficult to find a secluded place. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a very long ordeal. He had always hated dealing with the Consistorium’s desk jockeys and their over inflated sense of self-worth. It was only two rings before a surprisingly familiar voice answered. “Primarius Requisition, how may I help you?” “Eva?” “Hello, Scott. How are you?” “I was about to ask you the same thing,” Scott said. “Since when do you do the Consist’s busy work?” “I do not,” the woman on the other end responded in her cool contralto. “They very politely asked me to sort out the filing in Second South, and I was bored so I have rerouted all the phones to me.” “I take it they don’t know that.” “They will probably get suspicious since they have not received any direct calls for the last few hours. What is the current status of your mission?” “Primes, UOs, intrapersonal relationship bullshit… The usual. Just out of curiosity, how many other calls are you taking right now?” Scott inquired. “Nine concurrent calls from the Deep Blue – they have had another explosion on the new rig. Fifty-six regular reports from the Praesaedius, eight for temporary replacements, twenty for vacation time, ninety-two calls for various information requests, about four-hundred and eighty miscellaneous personal and business incoming connections that need to be forwarded, six new applications for the Primarius--” “Poor dumb bastards--” “--and one inebriated individual who sounds like he is in a bar downtown, asking for an immediate fire mission.” She paused. “He keeps screaming ‘broken arrow’.” “Tell him the birds are en route.” “It would be worth it just to hear him hit the floor. I will let him talk himself out, otherwise he might call again. Is everything well with you, Primare Kharan?” “So formal?” Scott said in a wounded tone. “My dear Eva, what have I done to earn such distance?” “Very well. How is it hanging, Scott?” “Down and to the left,” Scott answered. “Why, you been dreaming about me again?” “No, but if you would like, I could pretend for the sake of the joke.” “Nah, don’t bother.” “Why did you call Requisitions?” “I need Sophie Strauss tacked on to my SMA,” Scott explained, “which is why I’m damn glad I reached you. I didn’t feel like fighting with some suit over the necessity of it.” “I see. Can you provide evidence as to why Primare Strauss is required?” “Don’t even start with that shit,” Scott warned her. “It is all in the phrasing, of course,” Eva commented evenly. “Actually I am not trying to antagonise you, Scott. I would actually like to know why – off the record, as it must be.” “I’ve got a party to attend tonight, and she’s my hot date.” “Oh my,” Eva murmured. “I must admit to having wondered at times whether you would ever summon the courage to ask her out.” “Hey now…” Scott said defensively. “This is all part of the bigger shape. When have you ever known me to mix business with pleasure?” “Constantly,” Eva immediately replied. “For you there is almost no separation in the practice of either.” “Okay, so I enjoy my work,” Scott acknowledged. “Sometimes more than you should. I will file the papers for you, no more questions asked. I would hate to think that it was me who sabotaged your ascent from bachelorhood.” “Now there’s some uncalled for optimism. You do remember this is a mission, right?” “I always keep my mind on the mission, Scott – you know that,” Eva said levelly. “The question is, can you?” With that query hanging in the silence, she closed the connection, leaving Scott frowning at his phone. As usual, Eva’s words were laden with uncomfortable truths. Eva had long been a close companion of Scott’s. She had started existence as an artificial intelligence program, one of the rare few Kharadjai recruits who had not been born sentient, and, though she had received an organic body, she retained her computational mind. What Eva lacked in physical clout, she made up for with an expanded psyche fully capable of interfacing with machines, and over the years she had served as Scott’s living library and information gatherer. While she was human in all the ways that counted, she was still extremely level-headed and pragmatic, possessing a generally cool exterior and an evenly modulated voice with few noticeable inflections. Obviously, Eva didn’t think Scott was inviting Sophie to the party out of pure necessity. Eva was probably right. Scott didn’t feel like examining his underlying motivations too closely, but he had to admit that the concept of spending any amount of time in proximity to Sophie Strauss had a great deal of appeal. Pushing such thoughts aside for the time being, Scott hurried down to the Great Hall to partake of breakfast before it was no longer available. Taking several sets of stairs two at a time, Scott sprinted through the double doors of the Hall and over to the Gryffindor table. After seating himself next to Hermione, he made a swift play for Harry’s bacon, was blocked, and settled for the serving platter instead. “That didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” Scott commented, shovelling the first crispy strips into his mouth. “Record time. Hey – I didn’t ask Slughorn, but what are we supposed to wear tonight?” “Most of the other parties have been casual,” Hermione supplied, “but for the Christmas gathering we’ve been requested to dress formally.” “Great, wonderful,” Scott muttered into his bacon. “Anyone know where I can get a cheap suit?” Hermione frowned. “You don’t have any dress robes? They were on the school list.” “What the hell do you call these?” Scott gestured at his school uniform. “Any robes are ‘dress robes’. There’s no such thing as casual robes. That’s like saying you need a casual cummerbund. Oh dearie me, I seem to have misplaced my casual tiara.” “I’ll have to get out my casual cufflinks,” Harry added. “What about your casual pocket vest?” “I’m leaning more towards my casual top hat.” “You could always wear your casual monocle,” Ron joined in. “No, I think it would clash terribly with my casual kilt…” “I’m sure we all understand the joke by now,” Hermione interrupted them. “Scott, what are you going to do?” “Panic,” Scott replied shortly, but his mind was moving quickly. “You can’t borrow any of mine. I’ve only got one set,” Ron shrugged apologetically. “And you’re too tall for Harry’s,” Hermione mused. “I suppose I might be able to enlarge them with a spell or two…” Scott shook his head. “Forget it. I’ve got a plan.” Hermione gave him a look of clear disbelief. “Does this plan involve showing up in a t-shirt and jeans?” “Oh ye of little faith,” Scott rebuked her. “My plan is excellent, you’ll see.” “I hope it’s excellent enough to get you a date,” Hermione said, “because the party isn’t that far off now, and you don’t even have dress robes.” “Good point. Hey, Harry, for the sake of convenience how about we go gay tonight?” “You can if you want…” Harry leaned away from Scott. “Useless,” Scott grumbled. “Still, I must admit that particular plan B wasn’t very desirable – no offence, Harry.” Scott discarded the majority of his food and left breakfast early, heading straight back to the secluded spot where he had made his first call of the day. He was getting a little tired of long distance conversations but networking was an important part of being a Kharadjai. If he needed help, his phone was the way to get it. When he had talked to Eva she had clearly been enjoying herself, and Scott was counting on her dragging out her time at the Consistorium to retain control of the communications system. It didn’t really matter because he knew how to reach her separately, but out of sheer mischief he dialled the extension for the marriage registry. Sure enough, Eva’s smooth voice answered. “Registry and Census, Matrimonial Desk. How may I help you?” “Yes, I’d like to register the marriage of Scott Kharan and Sophie Strauss.” “You work quickly,” Eva said in a low tone of amusement. “Is there a third party or are you keeping this marriage traditional?” “Hell, I don’t know. Is that even allowed?” “No. But I could make an exception.” “Well if you want to join us, I could definitely see myself working that big black ass of yours in the sack…” Scott said lasciviously. “You were ever the charmer. Why did you call back again?” “I need a suit, a nice one preferably, and fit for my sixteen year old self.” “Tuxedo or pinstriped?” “Mmm, pinstriped,” Scott decided. “Tuxedo is a little much I think.” “Dark blue three piece with a white silk tie?” “I’m wanting something a little more Mafioso. Make it a grey three-piece with a red tie.” “Understood. I will have it delivered to Lila.” “I couldn’t survive without you, Eva,” Scott thanked her. “And shit, I gotta get to class. Could you get in touch with Sophie for me and tell her it’s not a casual party?” “I am talking to her right now, and it is done.” “There’s a reason you’re the best. Talk to you later.” “Goodbye.” With the suit taken care of and Sophie given adequate warning, there was nothing to do but attend class and wait for the evening. The rapidly approaching party was still something of a mystery – the amount of fuss surrounding it seemed to indicate an important event but Scott had yet to detect anything unusual with the shape of things. His preparations were now in place, and he was set to attend and react according to whatever should happen, if anything. The gathering would provide him with the opportunity to examine a larger web of personal connections. His normal sphere of operation was a narrow one, spanning only his key group of Primes. With so many significant people in one place, the festivities could possibly highlight something he had missed. Developing any sort of tunnel vision was dangerous. Widening his focus, even if only for a night, could supply him with valuable reconnaissance. On the other hand, it might also yield nothing at all. Not every event had to mean something. A party could simply be a party without any further implications. The lesson in Transfiguration that afternoon proved to be challenging. The class was supposed to be practicing human transfiguration by altering the colour of their eyebrows. It was not as easy as it sounded. Scott was once again frustrated by his lack of a full grasp on the local form of power. His first attempt resulted in a misfire. While Harry chuckled in open amusement, Scott stared glumly into the mirror that had been provided to him, his hair now tinged an unpleasant lime. “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Scott sighed morosely, “who’s the greenest of them all?” “You,” Harry gratuitously supplied. “At least I didn’t leave a job half finished,” Scott retorted, motioning at Harry’s one yellow eyebrow, “quitter. And Ron – that’s quite a regal moustache you’ve sprouted.” “Thanks,” Ron said, his voice slightly muffled by voluminous whiskers. “It should keep me warm, I imagine.” “Wax it,” Scott suggested, “then you can curl the tips.” “Here, Ron--” Hermione fussed over him with her wand, suppressing her laughter inadequately. “--let me try and fix this.” “You should leave it,” Harry said. “It'll be the hit of the party.” Ron shook his head, making Hermione grip his chin to keep him still. “I wouldn’t want to have a bigger soup-strainer than Slughorn. It’d be bad form to show up our host.” After class, Ron, Scott and Harry all headed back to the common room for some down time while Hermione left for her next lesson. Scott’s mind was still firmly fixed on the evening ahead, though now his thoughts had turned from contemplations of Primes and their directions to his pseudo-date with Sophie. Given the space to ruminate on the subject, Scott found himself uncharacteristically nervous. He had known Sophie for a great many years, but the majority of time spent with her had been on the job or in a more general, friend-based social setting. They had certainly never been on a date. The Christmas party, while technically not a real date, was close enough to make Scott a little uncertain. How would Sophie expect him to act? Scott was reminded of Eva’s statement that for him there existed no clear distinction between business and pleasure. It was comforting that at least Sophie had been a friend long before she ended up as his arm candy. About the best thing he could do was be himself and pick up on her mood to guide him. Maybe he was completely overthinking it, and Sophie regarded the night together as nothing more than a bit of possible enjoyment while on duty. Going by the book, Scott was officially her superior officer and could issue orders in the field, a fact that had been true even before Eva had assigned Sophie to the mission. In the Primarius however, things usually didn’t work like that unless the situation called for it. Discipline was important, but when every individual was so highly trained, democracy had its place. Sophie could do what she wanted under the informal circumstances of the party, so perhaps she was in the same frame of mind as Scott. Scott noticed during his deliberations that, despite the boy’s earlier humour, Harry was looking decidedly strained. Hogwart’s most eligible boy had yet to choose any accompaniment for the party, and it was mere hours before the time would come to hit the scene. With this in mind, Scott prepared to reach out to Harry one last time. “So are you just going to resign yourself here or---” “Luna!” “-are you whaaaaaa……?” Scott trailed off when Harry shouted Luna’s name. Luna had come around a corner ahead of them in her usual aimless fashion and stopped when Harry called to her, looking in their direction with a small smile. Harry approached her with a purposeful stride, and Scott immediately put two and two together. It took Ron a few seconds longer. “Wait a minute,” Ron said slowly, “is he really going to…” Harry’s words drifted back to them. “Luna, would you like to go to Slughorn’s party with me tonight--as friends?” “You gotta hand it to the boy,” Scott said to Ron. “He knows how to pick ‘em.” “Well, she is sort of barmy, but she’s not all that terrible…” Ron uncomfortably replied. Both the greater amount of time Luna had been spending with the Gryffindors and Hermione’s influence had obviously served to increase Ron’s regard for the odd Ravenclaw girl. Scott shook his head. “That’s not sarcasm, my friend. I can think of a few things I’d like to stick in that ass.” “I guess Luna is a bit of a looker, in her own way.” Ron agreed, and then immediately sent Scott a worried look. “Uh, don’t tell Hermione I said that though.” “Frankly I think Hermione would just be pleased that you gave Luna a genuine compliment. What I said – not so much. But then I do tend to give Hermione reason to unleash the rage within.” “I honestly don’t know how you’ve kept her from hexing your bits off by now.” “My junk is impervious to hexing,” Scott boasted. “I’d cut this Hogwarts crap and go choke Voldemort to death with my dick, but he’d just take it like a pro.” Luna happily bounced off to prepare herself for the party, and Harry came back down the hall, appearing relieved that he had finally taken the leap. “At least that’s over with,” he said. “Some fast thinking on your part,” Scott congratulated him. “Snagged her just in time.” “The best part is you can’t bother me about it anymore,” Harry told Scott. Ron elbowed Scott in the side. “And you’ve been talking a lot for a bloke who doesn’t have a date of his own.” “Shows what you fags know,” Scott scoffed at them. “I happen to have a prime piece of poon lined up for tonight.” “Oh yeah?” Harry said sceptically. “Who?” “Nobody you’d know.” Harry and Ron both immediately looked at each other with twin expressions of condescension. “Right, of course,” Harry said. “We do know Moaning Myrtle, actually,” Ron said. “She’s a Kharadjai, cock holsters,” Scott retorted, “so obviously you wouldn’t have met her, now would you.” “Whatever you say, mate,” Ron shrugged disarmingly, but he was still grinning. Upon reaching the Gryffindor tower, the three of them saw Lila standing outside the portrait and garnering more than a few curious looks from students passing in and out of the common room. Under her left arm she held a nondescript white box. When she spotted Scott, she straightened up from her position of rest and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “There you are,” Lila said as they approached. “This package is yours, apparently. I came all the way over here to deliver a stack of porn, I’m going to kill you.” “Oh yeah, like you could resist from opening something addressed to me,” Scott shot back. “It’s not a bad suit,” she commented. “Not the colours I would have chosen for you, but I’m sure that was factored into your decision when you picked them.” “I could get through life pretty handily by doing the exact opposite of everything you tell me to do.” The corners of Lila’s lips were tugged upwards as she fought a smile. “Don’t do that.” “See what I mean?” Scott turned to Harry and Ron. “I’ll be a minute; you guys can go ahead.” Grabbing Lila’s arm, Scott pulled her off to a more secluded area. Harry’s spur-of-the-moment decision to invite Luna had changed things yet again, and Scott was reacting, making it up as he went along. While not essential, Luna’s presence at the party would provide a possible opportunity that Scott had every intention of exploiting. “Harry invited Luna to the Christmas party,” Scott summarised for Lila once they were alone. “I need to take advantage of this and get Neville to go too.” “Then you’ll dump Strauss and invite Neville,” Lila said. “I will if I have to for the mission’s sake but there’s another option – you party crash, just show up with me. Officially I’ll invite Neville to come, you bring Sophie, then once we’re at the party, we set Neville loose and let him gravitate into Luna, and Sophie can chill with me.” “Not bad. I like it.” Lila nodded her approval. “Although this doesn’t help me get a chance to work on Harry and Ginny.” “I know. Every time we try, something prevents us – nothing to do but let it go. I was planning on approaching Ginny later, but let’s take the beaches within sight and cut our possible losses for now.” “Agreed. I’ll go get ready with Strauss and we’ll meet you right outside the portrait before the party.” “Wow, that was easy. You feeling okay?” “Even you can have a good idea every now and then, Scott,” Lila said scornfully. “The law of averages guarantees that much.” “The ‘law of averages’ is actually used incorrectly in that regard. Repetition does not increase the probability of any statistical occurrence-” “It’s an expression you overeducated asshole!” Lila put both hands on Scott’s shoulders and pushed him forcefully back towards the Gryffindor portrait. “Go find Neville, or do something else useful.” Back in the common room Scott caught Neville emerging from the lavatory. Neville didn’t generally seem like the party-hearty kind of guy, so Scott would have to make Slughorn’s shindig sound appealing. A simple mention that Luna would be attending would probably be enough. A tap on the shoulder alerted the shorter boy to Scott’s presence. “Scott! I don’t suppose you’ve seen Trevor?” Neville asked hopefully when he turned towards the Kharadjai. “I’m right here!” Across the room the tousled head of Trevor poked up from over the back of an easy chair. “What’s going on?” “Oh, I meant my toad, actually…” Neville said awkwardly. “He’s run off again.” Scott shook his head. “Haven’t seen him. But I’ll keep an eye out.” He looked over at Trevor and waved him off. “False alarm, kid.” Trevor appeared a little unhappy at his being associated with a toad again, but sank back into the chair. “Anyway, Nev – you know that party tonight?” Scott continued. “The Christmas party? What about it?” “Turns out my sister is coming,” Scott said, “which opens up an extra slot on the guest list. You wanna hit it with us?” Neville’s eyes widened. “Me? Are you sure you don’t want to invite a girl?” “I already got a date; you’ll just be joining the group. Besides, Luna’s gonna be there with Harry, Ron and Hermione so we can all hang out. Free drinks, man.” “That sounds like fun,” Neville agreed. “I’ll go then, thanks!” “Sure thing. We’re going to meet up in the entrance hall at about eight, so be ready around then.” With that taken care of, Scott headed for his dorm room to try on his suit. He made it about four steps before being accosted by Trevor. “What’s in the box?” Trevor inquired, peering eagerly at the package. “Is it Quidditch stuff?” Scott resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Nope, it’s a suit for the party tonight.” “Is it a Quidditch party?” “Tell you what--” Scott said, tucking the box containing his suit up under one arm, “--if you can convince Kylie to go with you, then you can come. And it’s a Christmas party.” “You don’t think she’ll want to go, do you?” Trevor scrunched up his face, displaying a rare moment of awareness. “You never know until you ask.” Trevor eagerly scampered off to locate Kylie and Scott resumed his walk to the dorms. By this point he had dramatically exceeded his allowed party invitation of one extra person, instead bringing five. Scott wasn’t worried, though. He seriously doubted Slughorn would notice the extra people in the press of the crowd. Even if the professor did, Scott didn’t feel it would be hard to distract the man or talk his way out of it. Slughorn’s apparent geniality might have been hiding his obsessive self-interest, but in order to advance his social networking, that same friendliness was essential. Confronted in public, Slughorn wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise his easy-going image. The party had been dominating his thoughts recently, but it was also time to start thinking about Christmas break. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do while school was not in session. If Lila’s contact with Mrs. Weasley paid off, then he would most likely have opportunity to see his Primes outside of Hogwarts, but chances were they would be out from under his thumb a great deal of the time. He’d have to make sure things didn’t get away from him. ***---~**~---*** ADDENDUM: TO: ALL ACTIVE PERSONNEL (PRA0-PRI0) FROM: PRINCEP GARY STAUFHOLM (DIR, CBMS) SUB: FA Field Reassignments Sat.Com Messaging Referral 1354.36976.99 ENCRY-B I have been asked by various parties to address an issue which has become an increasing problem. Over the past several years there has been a growing trend of field agents, both Primarius and Praesaedius, who have requested additional support through personal communication channels. It is not the stance of the Imperiarchy or the Council to require field agents to complete assignments alone or under a strict personnel limit. It is understood that rapidly changing circumstances in the field often require supplementary manpower in order to effectively pursue goals on the ground. However, while allowances can and have been made for rapid deployment in the case of emergency, it remains a requirement that the MOFA(s) requisition both AFAs and nonstandard equipment through the Requisitions Office of their specific military branch. Circumventing this process creates inaccurate post-OP records and can adversely affect the accounting process. Properly authorizing AFAs ensures that they are correctly compensated for their mission time. Those of us in the administration do realize that tensions exist between the active field corps and the administrative staff of the Council Auxiliary, and, as such, ask that any field agents contacting the Consistorium for their appropriate Requisitions Office call the office directly and not utilize the main Consistorium Directory Desk. Thank you for your cooperation. Princep Gary Staufholm Director, Council Board for Military Staffing ***---~**~---*** Author’s Note: Man, I had a hell of a time editing this chapter down to a T rating. Scott was particularly foulmouthed this chapter, dropping a total of twelve F-bombs, so I had to make some changes that I always hate having to make. I hope you all appreciate it, dammit. Anyway, if anyone noticed how the previous chapter disappeared and then reappeared, it’s because I screwed up and sent a non-PhoenixSong version of that chapter to my beta for submission. It’s all fixed now, so you can go back and enjoy Winterlude all over again with slightly less swearing this time around and actual scene breaks. It’s almost orgasmic. Well, no, not at all actually. But if you wanted orgasmic, you’d be looking at porn instead of reading this story. If that sounds like a good idea to you, it does to me too. Feel free to hit me up with an email if you want some links. I hope you like lesbian midgets. - Caleb
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