Time to Find Out

Working at an embassy wasn’t something that Adelaide was cut out for. It was a boring, tedious employment that made her want to bang her head against the wall and yell at the top of her lungs. She’d only been at the office, working, for three and a half hours, but in that time, she’d come to the conclusion that being there was a waste of time, that she was meant to work at the Washington D.C. branch where she could actually put her skills to use, as opposed to just sitting around the office, waiting for American citizens that hadn’t shown up all day. Why people fought for those positions was beyond her. The only reason why anyone would want to work at an embassy was because they wanted to do the bare minimum, while still maintaining the status of being a diplomat. That had to be it. Because there was nothing grand about working there, nothing that made her think she was making a difference in the world. She just sat at a desk, paced around her office, walked around the building, and then went back to her office to kill time.

Cassandra noticed how restless Adelaide was. From her desk, she watched with curious eyes as the young witch left her office to travel about the building, and heard the string of profanity that traveled through the door that separated their two spaces. She wondered why Adelaide was having so much trouble adjusting. The other diplomats seemed to be enjoying themselves. They appeared at ease with the easy workload, relishing in the lack of stress in their professional lives, but not Adelaide, her brow was furrowed in displeasure and the only smile Cassandra had seen on her face, was the one that she’d worn when she walked in at seven-thirty that morning. Wanting to put her new employer at ease, Cassandra decided that she would have a chat with her during lunch. So she went downstairs to the kitchen area, to ask the house elves if they could prepare salmon and wild rice meals for them. She remembered Adelaide mentioning how fond she was of seafood, so she hoped that the meal would be a welcomed one.

Sure enough, when the house elves arrived with the lunch and Cassandra knocked on Adelaide’s door, the young witch gladly welcomed the company and the meal. She’d just been thinking about what she was going to have for lunch. She’d woken up late and since she had to drop Theodore off at the doggy day care, hadn’t had enough time for anything more than a cup of coffee.

“This smells heavenly.” Adelaide commented as Cassandra handed her the plate.

“It is quite lovely.” Cassandra agreed. “The house elves here have a way with food, unlike any I’ve ever seen. I believe it’s because they took professional lessons.”

“They did?”

Cassandra nodded. “Awhile back, about six years ago, the diplomats paid for a chef from a popular restaurant to come teach them, can’t remember his name, but he’s quite talented and ever since then the quality, which was good to begin with, has become worthy of the palace.”

“Guess that’s one of the perks of working here.” Adelaide cut her salmon into smaller pieces.

“There are others, perks, I mean.” She set down her fork. “I know it’s not as exciting as working at the capital. There are no treaties to negotiate here, but it does have its charms. London is spectacular, not a place, like it in all the world, and I'm fairly certain that in time it’ll grow on you.” Cassandra smiled reassuringly, hoping that her words would put the young witch at ease.

“Thanks for your concern, but it’s not London that doesn’t agree with me. It’s the workload. I'm used to running from one meeting to another, and staying up late to go over terms for a treaty, so this – being idle, is different and . . . I don’t know, it’s – I'm not used to it.”

“Give it a bit of time. I promise that at some point today, there will be at least one American coming to inquire about one thing or another.”

Adelaide laughed. “Hopefully I’ll be the diplomat that gets them. Give me something to do. I’ve already reorganized the office twice since I got here.”

“There’s a recreational area. Remember?”

“Uh, I don’t actually remember that space.”

“It’s two floors up from here, same floor as the library. In fact, its door is right across from it.”

Adelaide furrowed her brow, mentally retracing her steps. She’d been on that floor, having gone to the library during one of her walks, but she didn’t remember having seen the recreational area. She thought harder about it, trying to remember the layout of the floor, and then, she realized that there’d been a door across from the library. The door hadn’t been paid much attention to. A simple glance had been cast at is, before Adelaide returned her attention to the library, having been drawn in by the extensive book collection that the stately room housed. The recreational area had to have been behind that door. She was certain of it. And when she asked Cassandra if that was the case, the older witch nodded and began describing the contents of the area.

It sounded like a pleasant enough space, there was a pool table, a chess set, couches that would undoubtedly be perfect for afternoon naps, and Cassandra had even said something about their being a muggle television set. It sounded like an ideal space to waste time, so after lunch ended, and the plates were cleared, Adelaide bid farewell to Cassandra and decided to go see for herself if the space was as brilliant as it sounded.

On the way to the recreational area, Adelaide bumped into Wilson. He was the second youngest person there, she being the first. He was thirty-nine years old, with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. Though, the fact that he had a newborn at home had taken a serious toll on his appearance and he looked much older, not only older, he looked in desperate need of sleep. They chatted in the hallway, politely discussing how different work at the embassy was than in Washington. Wilson seems quite keen on the way things worked at the embassy, stating that if things continued the way they were, he’d finally be able to catch up on his sleep. Adelaide forced a laugh. He was pleased with their lightened load, while she yearned for the stress of life in Washington.

Just a month ago, she had been complaining about how draining work was, how she was missing out on sleep and wasn’t having as active a social life as she would’ve wanted, but now that she had all the time in the world, now that she could sleep at work, she missed the stress, she missed having to stay all night at the office to sort out an unexpected problem that a greedy corporation or careless Auror had created, but she was going to have to get used to the way things worked, or else she was going to be miserable for the duration of her stay in London. She’d grow irritable, short tempered. She’d probably be as bad as she was when her dad passed away, before Gwen gave her Theodore, and that was something that she wanted to avoid at all cost.

There were no further interruptions on the way to the recreational area. The halls were deserted and she was glad she didn’t have to force a smile to talk with the other diplomats or the staff that assisted them. When she reached the entrance to the room, her eyes sparkled with curiosity and without wasting any more time, she cautiously opened the door, as if there was a chance that someone might be sleeping within. As is happened, there wasn’t anyone else inside. The couches were deserted, as was the pool table, and chess set. She walked in slowly, her eyes scanning the layout before her, taking in every detail that she could. It was beautiful, there was no denying that. The furniture was elegant, a bit less grand than the one in the library, but still something that one might see at a royal palace, or at the very least, at the country home of a royal.

“What to do?” she mused aloud.

Chess was out of the question. There was no partner with whom to play with, and even if there had been, she didn’t know how to play. She was decent at playing pool, but again, there was no one to play with, and a solo match wasn’t the least bit tempting. She decided on watching television, there was bound to be something that’d capture her attention, and sure enough there was a show called Absolutely Fabulous that was on BBC One. She ended up watching two episodes, not bothering to laugh quietly since there was no one that would be disturbed by her booming laughter.

It wasn’t until Roxanne entered the room that Adelaide turned off the television. Apparently Cassandra had phoned the young witch, asking her to find Adelaide because the Head of International Magical Cooperation was at the office, waiting for her so he could make her acquaintance.

“He just showed up?” she asked as she stood up from the couch, trying to smooth out the barely visible wrinkles on her charcoal trousers. “Didn’t call or send word?”

“No, Miss Thirlby.” Roxanne replied. “He’s not the kind of person that calls in advance. He just shows up whenever he likes, thinks himself important enough to take such liberties.”

“And did Cassandra mention what it was he wanted?”

“No, Miss.” Roxanne held the door open. “All Cassandra said was that Mr. Mulciber was waiting for you. I suppose he’s there to welcome you, to see what kind of person you are. He did the same last week with Wilson and Mark.”

“That’s comforting.” Adelaide’s nose wrinkled in disgust when she smelled her breath. “I shouldn’t have had salmon for lunch, breath smells horrible.”

“I’ve got some mints.” Roxanne pulled them out from her pocket. “Want some?”

“Yes, thank you.” She took four and threw them in her mouth, a shiver running through her body from the intensity of them. “Are those magical mints?”

“No, they’re actually muggle ones. It’s amazing what they invent without magic.”

“It really is.” Adelaide agreed. “Are you fond of muggles, then?”

“Love them!” she replied, a bright smile playing across her lips. “I'm actually dating one. He’s a musician, plays in a blues band and he’s just so – ah! Don’t think you want to hear that. You’re my boss. Well not my boss, but one of the bosses. I talk too much sometimes. Have you noticed that?” she asked, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“No, it’s fine. It’s nice to hear that you’re enjoying yourself in London.”

“London’s great. I'm sure it’ll grow on you as much as it has on us.”

“Hopefully,” she followed Roxanne down the stairs.

The rest of the walk was silent. Adelaide fussed over her appearance, smoothing out her straightened hair in case any hairs were sticking out, and throwing on her blazer when they reached the entrance to her waiting area. She thanked Roxanne for having fetched her, and then, took a deep breath. She’d heard about Mulciber. Cassandra had made her disdain for him, well known to her. And if Adelaide was going to be honest, she had to admit that she already preconceived notions about what he was going to be like, and was predisposed not to like him. She hoped he’d prove her wrong. That he’d end up being a person that she could get along professionally with, though, the fact that he didn’t call or owl to say that he would be dropping by her office, had already rubbed her the wrong way.

When she walked into the waiting area, the first thing she saw was a tall man standing with his back to her, he had broad shoulders, and dark black hair, though there were a few noticeable grays in the vast ocean of black. Adelaide looked over at Cassandra, whom mouthed, ‘That’s him.’ Adelaide nodded in understanding and plastered the smile she used with fellow diplomats, it was a welcoming smile that showed that she wanted to have a good professional relationship, but the look in her eyes always made it perfectly clear that she was not about to screwed over by anyone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mulciber.”

At her voice, he turned, revealing a handsome face, that was by all means pleasing and attractive, but there was something cold about his gaze, something about the dark orbs that made an unsettling feeling shoot through her spine. Adelaide had always been good at reading people by looking into her eyes. It was a gift she’d had since she was a child, a gift she shared with her late father, and as she stood there, a nagging voice in the back of her mind screamed that that man was not to be trusted. That he was every bit as dangerous and an elitist as Cassandra had painted him out to be.

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” she said, not letting the feeling coursing through her get the better of her. “I am Minister-Counselor Thirlby. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Minister-Counselor Thirlby,” he greeted her, extending his hand. “I believe the pleasure is mine. I had been meaning to visit ever since I spoke to your cultural attaché last week, and was informed that the new ambassadors had arrived.”

“I am glad to hear you keep regular contact with Mr. Davenport.”

“Mr. Davenport is an intimate acquaintance. He often frequents the Ministry to keep himself informed of the cultural happenings.”

“Then I must count myself fortunate to have such a cultural attaché.”

He smiled a forced smile as he took note of the distrust in her eyes. He wondered if she was a liberal, one of the American government employees that were calling their government to intervene in England. The way she spoke made him think she was. The way she carried herself appeared to confirm that thought, but only time would prove whether or not he was right in supposing so.

“Have you yet to visit the Ministry?” he inquired.

“I can not say I have. I was actually going to be calling at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I had sent word to the British branch of the International Confederation of Wizards; I am to have lunch with them tomorrow.”

“Are you?” he mused aloud. “Well that is brilliant. I had heard that none of the American diplomats had yet to call on our representatives.”

“We hadn’t the time to do so last week, for we were moving into our new abodes and setting up the office. Work commenced this very day, and as such, we have divvied up the days to see who would go to the Ministry on which days so as to keep at least two ambassadors here at all times.” She paused before continuing. “In fact, Career Minister Mark Hudgins is going to the Ministry this very afternoon. He’s to dine with the representatives.”

“Is he now?”

Adelaide nodded.

“I am glad that an effort is being made on both our behalves. These are difficult times at the Ministry, quite trying on us, and it does one well to know that there are diplomats willing to work with our offices.”

“American diplomats will always work on behalf of anyone fighting for the preservation of the basic rights of both magical individuals and our muggle counterparts, as well as for political justice.” Adelaide stated. Her eyes fixed on him as she gauged his reaction.

Mulciber smiled a tight smile that was clearly forced, but said nothing on the subject. He didn’t stay much longer, claiming that he had to get back to the Ministry. He assured that he would do his absolute best to make it to the lunch with the representatives and she almost told him not to bother, that she just wanted to meet with them, but she smiled politely, as she had to, and said that it would be lovely if he could. After she walked him out to the main lobby, she returned to her office with a desk full of questions and there was only one person that she could inquire to them about, well, there two, but only one of them was present.

“Cassandra?” she called to her.

She looked up from her book. “Yes, Adelaide?” asked Cassandra.

“How well acquainted is Mr. Davenport with Mulciber?”

“To my knowledge, they are very intimately acquainted. Mr. Davenport spends most of his day at the Ministry, which some would argue that is normal considering that he is the cultural attaché, and must be kept informed of the happenings, but I think he spends far too much time there. His secretary, Jeffrey, always complains that he spends most of his day alone, waiting for Mr. Davenport to return. I believe there must be a close friendship there, for him to spend as much time at the Ministry as he does. But again, those are just my suppositions.”

“Well thank you for sharing them.” Adelaide placed a hand on her hip. “Did you notice the look he got when I referred to muggles as our counterparts?”

“I did.” Cassandra let out a breath. “I'm afraid Mulciber isn’t fond of muggles. At the Christmas party last year, which was held at this embassy, he refused to shake my husband’s hand because he was a muggle.”

“How rude,” she commented, her mind already racing, forming questions that she would have to ask Gwen.