Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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April 30th, 1981
Tired after hours and hours of intense Auror training since the clock struck eight that morning, Avery finally let out a long, grateful sigh. Muscles aching and robes still dusty from the last round of combat drills, she crossed the training hall to gather her things. Boots echoed faintly against stone floors, parchment rustled from distant offices, and the cool underground air brushed against her flushed skin as she swung her bag over her shoulder.
Just as she reached for the door, a faint pop sounded behind her.
"Greengrass."
She turned to find Callum Rowle standing, arms folded over his chest. Even at the end of the day, he looked as composed as he had at eight a.m., dark training robes immaculate, expression firm.
"Yes, sir?" Avery straightened unconsciously, the fatigue slipping from her posture though it still pulsed in her bones.
Rowle jerked his chin toward the far corridor. "Can I have a word with you?"
She hesitated only a second before nodding. "Of course."
Rowle didn't wait for her to fall in step as usual; he simply turned and strode down the dim corridor, but Avery followed.
They passed the empty briefing chamber, then the training records office, until Rowle stopped near a recessed alcove where the glow of a single lantern cast sharp shadows across his face. He turned to her, arms no longer folded but locked behind his back.
"Close the door," he said quietly.
Avery did. The faint thud of it echoed down the corridor, leaving them wrapped in silence.
Rowle studied her for a long moment before finally speaking.
"You were out of formation during the final drill."
Avery blinked. Of all the things she expected—a reprimand, maybe, but not that. "Sir, I—"
"I'm not finished." His voice didn't rise, but the steel in it was unmistakable. "You broke formation to intercept a spell aimed at your partner."
She retorted quickly. "Tamsin was out of position. If I hadn't moved—"
"If you hadn't moved," he cut in sharply, "Tamsin would have taken a stunner and Garcia would've had her carried off to the infirmary for an hour. Inconvenient, but not fatal."
She swallowed. Rowle's gaze didn't soften.
"What you did instead," he went on, voice low and clipped, "was step directly into the crossline of two spells you had no business engaging with."
"I neutralized both."
"Yes," Rowle said. "By blind luck and faster reflexes than sense."
Avery's jaw tightened, but she stayed silent this time.
