An Abandoned Arrangement

When the Minister said later today, he unfortunately meant that literally as it was already passing midnight. Simon was exhausted, and he actually wanted to throw up, hoping it might make him feel better. Although he heard what Lupin said about the whole ordeal, he didn't have the presence of mind to process any of it.

So when he found himself being not quite thrown into a cell somewhere in the Ministry, Simon realized he wasn't actually sure how they had gotten there. Had anyone picked up his wand? Or that other thing he'd been holding? Did it matter, really? They were going to figure out who he was, Tobias would stick his stupid pointy nose in, and Simon knew exactly where he would end up before the week was out. Possibly the day. Could they determine who he was by his wand? He didn't even know. He hadn't ever been the brightest, had he?

They'd told him to sleep, likely to see if it worked the alcohol out of him. Despite his anxiety about the whole evening, he somehow did manage to fall asleep pretty quickly. A few hours later, the rambunctious young aurors were tapping back and forth across the bars of his cell.

Merlin's beard, that was loud. His forehead ached, and that place right behind his eyes? Oh, God. He would've lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sent up a request, but there were lights up there and he hated them too much. Maybe someone would hear him anyway. The aurors sure didn't.

"Up and at 'em, sleeping beauty," one said too loudly.

Simon didn't move. He wanted to sass them, but he knew better now that he was feeling more like himself. If they pushed him, though, there was no telling. Everyone had their breaking point.

"I know," the man continued. "It must be odd to have someone reference a storybook character in a situation like this. But, then again, you're the guy that killed a three-year-old, aren't you? How did you manage that, Marek? Win her trust with story time? That's what the investigators thought."

So. They weren't even going to question him. They knew, and he was done, and there was no way he intended to speak a single word when the Minister or whoever came in to question him. But he did want to contact a certain individual. And he'd have to ask forgiveness from the other one, but he had no choice. So he kept quiet.

Well, he did for a minute anyway.

The other auror, one he didn't recognize from earlier, pulled a folder out from behind his back as Simon turned his head to just stare at them. He must have done the research, whoever this bloke was.

"You get one contact. Shall we get in touch with Miss McCallum?"

The younger one leaned over to peer at the file as it was opened up. "Merlin, no. No need. I'll go get her, myself," he suggested with a horrible smirk, already reaching for the wand in his pocket, clearly suggesting that he was going to apparate and find her.

Simon was at the bars in an instant, moving with more grace than they probably anticipated from him, silently making use of his old seeker athleticism. They both jumped back as he appeared in front of them, a murderous expression on his face.

"Do it," he dared the idiot one. "I promise you'll regret it."

The more mature one, though he had looked amused in the breath between the words and Simon's surprise, frowned deeply. "I would be careful if I were you. Do you want us to get in touch with her or not?"

Simon knew that if [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] was one thing, it was caring. She would want to know, she would want to help, and despite the early hour, he knew she would want to do something about it. But he didn't think she ought to be involved. Instead, he shook his head.

"I need a quill and parchment," he requested, tone still tight despite his attempt at saying it politely. They both lifted their eyebrows questioningly. He didn't elaborate. They would probably read what he wrote, regardless, and he knew exactly what he was going to say. He was going to piss [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.] right off.


Jack,

I'm currently in a holding cell somewhere in the Ministry. I was arrested last night, and I'm using my contact opportunity to tell you this: It's over. There's no point now that I'm back here, so we should probably just drop it. You probably couldn't have fixed it anyway.

-Simon

Oh. By the way. That broken door at the back of Satan's? That was definitely me.

Robert had gone and gotten the narly green goo taken care of, and the bloody wound on his neck, and he'd gotten a change of clothes. He was clean, but he had had to alter his usual impeccable dress b/c of the damage the green goo had done. He had found he could find very little to put his bandaged foot into.

He'd ended up settling for well fitting black dress jeans, a black button down, and a black jacket. He had no patience for a tie. And the traditional black dress shoes had been sacrificed for a pair of black medical clogs. It was the only thing that would go on over the bulky dressings.

He was supporting himself with a simple black walking cane with an embossed darby handle--an antique he'd had for many years. Certainly not new by any means.

He went down to the interrogation rooms for the holding cells, not asking for Marek to be brought to him. He had his secretary bring him two paper cups of tea and then leave him. He figured if Marek hadn't too bad of a hangover, decent tea might be welcome. Marek was in enough trouble as it was, by the looks of the paperwork and all the business that Robert hadn't known of before. Robert had no interest in making it worse. The natural consequences seemed to be doing a fairly good job of bashing Marek about without any "bad cop" tactics from Robert. It seemed undo overkill to even try to go there. He wasn't sure why he felt for the young man, but a part of him did.

He settled in at the table, hanging the handle of the cane off the edge of the table and took a sip of his tea and waited.

After his letter was sent off, Simon knew it had to be nearly time for him to go back and see who would be asking him the questions this time. It had been some Ministry lawyer last time, if he remembered correctly. And Simon could practically see the whole ordeal in front of his eyes, opened or closed, so he doubted he had it wrong.

Either way, the idiot one had somehow convinced the research one to wander off, because only one came back to get him when it was time to go. Simon glowered at the other man, watching as he opened the cell carefully. What damage Simon could do to him was beyond the man in question, but he kept his jaw shut this time.

They passed through balls that Simon wished he didn't recognize, until they finally came upon what was meant to be his interrogation room, and the former Quidditch player felt his muscles tense and eyebrows raise. The Minister? He must be in more trouble than he had thought.

Silently, he walked in after receiving a shove from the auror, and made his way around the table to stand across from the Minister. It took a moment, but he finally sank into his chair and looked over at Lupin expectantly.

"So," Simon began carefully. "How is it going to go this time? Shall I confess to things you already know? Or deny what people still believe I've done?"