"Ní mhaireann solas na maidine don lá." // "No morning sun lasts all day."

Nine years later…

Leta plopped down on the edge of Tara’s bed early one morning, shaking her roommate's leg with a purpose. The Irish witch simply groaned in response, turning her body over with a defiant shake of her head. She had had a long night shift the previous evening and was well past exhausted. 

“Tara, come on. Eat some breakfast.” Leta urged. “I have good news.”

With a persistence that only the younger witch could boast, she eventually managed to drag Tara out of bed and into their small, dingy kitchen.

“So- you know how I applied for that office job at the Ministry?” Leta asked as Tara stuffed her face with breakfast potatoes, humming in affirmation. 

“Well, they extended me an offer.” Leta continued with a smile. “And I accepted.”

Tara swallowed her food.

“Oh, wow. That’s awesome Lee.” she said. “Well done.”

Leta smirked at her from across the table.

“I know you didn’t mean that, but I am still taking it as a compliment.” she said, blowing a raspberry at her roommate.

“Oh, come on, you know I’m happy for you Lestrange.” Tara countered, shoving another round of potatoes into her mouth.

Leta simply rolled her eyes in response. 

After cleaning up her plate. Tara used her wand to wash both their dishes and ultimately sent them floating back into their cabinets. 

“You know, you should consider a temp job too.” Leta called out to her as Tara made her way out into the living room. “It pays way better than your bartender gig.”

“Hey, don’t hate the bar.” Tara fired back. “That’s what’s keeping the roof over our heads cheap.”

Leta sighed heavily, relenting for the time being.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡☆ﾟ.･ ───

“I’ve been asked to try and convince you to re-think their offer.” Leta said to her one evening after she returned from work.

“Pardon?” Tara asked as she threw her jacket over her shoulders. She had been just about to walk down to the bar and begin her shift that night when her roommate had cornered her.

Leta stared forward at her friend, not detecting any sarcasm in her voice at all. Instead, the witch saw genuine confusion.

“Tara…” she said slowly. “Are you not even opening their letters?”

Now finally understanding what Leta had been referring to, Tara pressed her lips into a flat line, refusing to answer. 

Leta scoffed in disbelief, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Merlin, Tara. You know you’re the only witch I’ve ever even heard of that’s getting scouted by other countries’ Ministries. And you’re not even bothered!”

Again, Tara didn’t respond verbally, simply reached up to scratch at the back of her neck. 

The younger witch rolled her eyes, stomping out and into their living room. She briefly rifled through the pile of letters on top of their coffee table until eventually finding the one that she had been looking for. Standing back up straight, she quickly returned to where Tara was still waiting by the door, all but shoving a white envelope into her hands.

“Here.” she said. “Read this one. Please.”

Tara sighed.

“Lee, I don’t think-”

“Tara Kelly, sit down and read the damn letter.” Leta barked.

Tara’s eyes widened at the sharp tone of the five-foot-two witch. Immediately, she obliged, taking the envelope into her hands and sitting down at their kitchen table.

Her name was printed in a particularly fancy script along the front, and the address in the top left-hand corner was that of the British Ministry of Magic. She let out a long, heavy sigh before breaking the red seal on the back and unfolding the letter.

Immediately upon doing so, a low, posh-sounding British voice filled their apartment. 

“Ms. Kelly,

We have been made aware of your lack of desire to join the ranks of our Aurors, and we can assure you that we respect your feelings and decisions. However, the British Ministry of Magic has been keeping tabs on you since your years at Hogwarts, and has deemed your specific skill set invaluable to our operations. Because of this, a meeting was held between our top Directors, and we concluded that the best course of action would be to create a brand new position here at the Ministry.

It is common knowledge that the threats the wizarding world is facing these days have drastically changed. And for the more dangerous. That being said, we pride ourselves in our Auror’s ability to handle those threats. We believe that one of the best ways to keep them in the best shape that they can be, would be to implement a trainer of sorts, to hone and improve skills.

All of this is to say, we at the British Ministry of Magic would like to officially extend and offer to you, Tara Kelly, to join our ranks as the newly created Director of Lawman Training.

Please respond to us at your earliest convenience with your answer. And we look forward to seeing you here at the Ministry very soon. 

-Minister for Magic, Hector Fawley.”

Tara placed the letter down on their kitchen table as the voice faded away into the air around them.

“Shit.” she muttered to herself.

Leta fought back a smile.

“So…?”

Tara shook her head, quickly standing up and straightening out her coat again.

“I need to think.” she said, making for the door. “Let me just- I need to sleep on this.” 

With that, she disappeared out of their front door, and into the night.

Leta sighed heavily, folding the letter back up herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡☆ﾟ.･ ───