Chapter 3
Once a year the DMLE was allotted actual money to throw a party. Like, actual money. It went counter to how stingy they were every other part of the year and I hated myself for how much I looked forward to it.
If I felt generous, which I seldom did, I’d admit that they actually did have something to celebrate. Most trainee aurors quit in their first year, and a slow but steady number called it quits each year after. Five years of training sounded excessive when I first got here but now that I’d watched it all I had seen first hand how much it mattered.
After all, even Potter’s handwriting had improved so he could finalize his own reports. Apparently the DMLE accomplished miracles.
Thirteen candidates completed their training this year. It was an unlucky number, but they couldn’t very well throw me up on stage to round it out. I’d served five years in what may as well be their basement. It wasn’t the same as honing myself into a dark arts destroying agent of good. Nothing like Potter, who stood all broad and imposing on stage in the place of honor for highest marks in the class. Or Weasley, who was somehow half a head taller and actually did all the work that should have earned the distinction. You could tell Harry knew it, too. He was so embarrassed when they handed him the award. He kept making puppy eyes at his best friend, who by now had a lifetime of smiling through this sort of nonsense, even if his auror training had only sharpened his awareness of bias.
Anyway, there was an open bar. I took my glass of Ogden’s not-quite finest and stood as far out of the way as I could because the last thing I wanted was attention. If they noticed me they might remember to resent me enough to concoct a rule to forbid me from coming back.
I wasn’t completely detached from the world on a day-to-day basis. Most people who visited records didn’t view me as an actual person, which meant they were far too open with their gossip when I was standing right there in front of them. I knew before Granger did that Weasley was going to propose. Apparently he’d been waiting to officially pass his final exams because he wanted to be able to provide for a future family. Which was silly. Even as a full auror, Granger would be making more money than him with her senior position in the minister’s office. I heard from Longbottom’s own mouth in year three that he was only staying on until Professor Sprout retired next year. Absolutely everyone talked about Potter’s on-again-off-again fling with “Andi” whenever some new development hit the papers. It was all silly things like that. Just enough to make me nostalgic for the days I could pitch stories to Rita Skeeter.
These people were the future of wizarding Britain. And me? Well, I planned to get drunk.
I suppose it was a certain sort of hubris that had me thinking I was invisible to these people. Could you blame me? Granger herself didn’t bat one eye in my direction when we queued up next to one another for a second round of drinks, and if it wasn’t for her I’d be dead. I guess I just forgot that there was more to the world than aurors and war heroes. There were also perfectly pleasant childhood friends who had the good fortune to be sent to Durmstrang during the war so they didn’t have to fight in it.
Of course Andrew Sprocket was fine. Perfectly fine. He was the sort of friendly chap who spotted me at once and was happy to launch small talk like we were still family friends. He saw me wearing a trainee outfit and asked when I joined the aurors. He noted my blush and stuttering and deftly changed the conversation to quidditch. He just had the nicest smile and the novelty of being smiled at stung deeper than it had any right to. And I stood there very much aware I was being an asshole.
I had to watch Potter fucking walk up to Andrew - Andi - and wrap an arm around his waist. I had to watch Potter nod at me, fucking nod at me, as if he’d even once acknowledged me unprompted before. I had to be civil and make excuses to leave because it was clear Potter wasn’t going to do it for me.
After five years of fucking torment, I never once considered that what would gut me would be ignorant kindness, and one of these auror fuckers being polite just to keep up appearances with his boyfriend.
I got a third drink before I left the party. And a plate of mini sausage rolls. And an assortment of French pastries. Sure I was running away to sulk, but I survived off soggy food served in troughs for the masses. I hadn’t cut myself in months but I’d probably go straight to that tonight if I didn’t get anything out of this evening.
It had been hubris to think I could have one night a year when the DMLE would let me tag along like I was one of them. Like I’d earned something same as the rest.
I’d never fucking learn, would I?