We were supposed to rule

Caleb Flint knew that it was his particular curse to be restless and bored. But how cruel was it to have a taste of a more potent future for it to develop into nothing. To step forward onto a cliff and prepare to fall, only to take that step and feel solid earth where there should have been nothing. He had been ready to fall into whatever came next. And instead-

He was at a f*cking brunch.

His parents had decided to meet with the d’Amiens, a French pureblood family that had decided to go on their annual summer tour of Europe. Now that Émeline was the ripe age of sixteen, she was absolutely horrendous, and the preening of both Madame d’Amiens and Caleb’s mother wasn’t at all helpful. Mathieu, who had always been a handful, was being particularly obvious this year with his attempts to woo Camila. Camila could hardly make it three feet away from him before he skittered after and, now that they were seated outside in the courtyard, he continually leaned in to whisper something to Camila.

Camila, as always, was a champion. She smiled under the praise of the four pureblood adults, politely responded to Mathieu whilst carefully discouraging his continued attempts, and did her best to attempt to probe deeper into Émeline’s life- though these probes mostly revealed more and more thoughts on fashion, culture, and, of course, he future match.

And there were one too many pouty, eyelash-heavy looks Caleb’s way.

Caleb wasn’t sure if his mother had also given Camila new clothes, or if she had chosen a matching yellow dress when she saw the yellow cardigan his mother had purchased for him. Between that and the subtle glances his way from his twin, Caleb felt grateful to have her in his corner. But he was distracted. Icy grey eyes, far less friendly, had burned into his skull and he could hear the crackle of flames above the gentle clink of silverware.

His chair screeched against the stone of the courtyard as he stood, causing a look of shock and irritation from Little Miss Priss, who had been detailing her latest proposal. The ladies of the group, save Camila, had jumped in surprise and the entire party stared at him in confusion. Camila’s eyes were narrowing on him, curious but disapproving already, as though she already knew…

“Caleb, dear,” Vitoria said, inquiring gently. Caleb turned his eyes to his father, his stony gaze was softened with confusion. Caleb loved his mother, but it was Marcus who mattered.

“I’m so sorry,” Caleb said, cracking the tension with an inviting, apologetic smile. A hand pressed against his heart in a tender appeal, causing Miss d’Amiens to simper a bit, as he explained, “Work. I have a clever little card here-,” he said, withdrawing one of his own business cards and twirling it between his fingers, “burns when there’s an emergency. Muscle memory makes me jump into action, I do apologize. Please, you must forgive me. But I’ll only leave if Miss Émeline thinks I might be spared.”

All eyes but Camila’s slid towards the prim blonde – Camila’s slid skyward. Émeline perked right up, naturally, and tossed her aristocratic head. “I suppose I can forgive your absence,” she said, and he swore she was playing up that French accent, “but you must entertain us at dinner with tales of your work. I’ll be very upset to find out I was brushed off for anything less than a national emergency.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. He turned his gaze towards her parents and brother and gave a short half-bow of sorts, before shaking his father’s hand and planting a kiss on his mother’s cheek. Camila shot him a smile that only he could interpret as one of betrayal before he turned on his heel and walked out of the courtyard.

As he walked through his parent’s manor, he picked up the pace, pushed up his sleeves, and the smile dropped from his features. He twirled his wand and after one, two false starts, a silvery falcon burst from his wand. “Where can we meet?”

It was time he and Kit get back on the same page.

**

Katherine had been doing her best to keep busy. It was difficult, though, when family standards didn't leave much room for the female Averys to be providers in a serious sense. How dull. She didn't need the money, though, so it wasn't a job that she was looking for. No, no. She was looking for information. Kit wanted to know precisely how the Order had handled what she and Caleb had done.

So far, they'd been quiet. And that was horribly annoying. It was equally frustrating, she'd found, that Caleb was busy with family or work or whatever he was up to. The idea that he was an Auror was still laughable to her, but it was indeed a brilliant cover for anything he decided to do below the letter of the law. Perhaps that could come in handy.

What she needed, actually, was a wider circle of people to help her by poking around in others' business. It sounded sneaky, and really, it was. Kit just didn't care anymore - not like she used to.

She was lounging in a chair at the end of the Avery's dining table that day, ignoring the bickering amongst her brothers. Mesut had no idea, of course, about Luke. Caleb didn't either, though, to be fair. Perhaps she would mention the fact if she ever bloody saw him again. Luke was just winding Mes up because he could, and because it was likely one of the few things that still brought him any joy.

He clearly just hadn't found the right outlet.

After a while, though, she simply hadn't the patience. Without so much as standing up, she lifted her wand and banished her plate. Then she waved off their questions and pushed her chair back, disapparating.

Feet landed in the garden, the skirt of her dress whipping around and causing an odd shadow on the pathway beneath her. Kit rolled her eyes, still thinking of their ability to argue over absolutely everything. So she took to walking amongst the rosebushes and fruit trees as she tried to think of someone besides the ever-busy Flint.

However predictably, she was getting annoyed again by the time something changed. Because, actually, she just wanted to locate Caleb and use whatever contacts he had, because surely he had some good ones. He loved reminding her of how much he knew or had or could do.

Prick.

On the plus side, he was a prick with ideal timing. At least today. A slow, almost pleased smile curved her lips, and she lifted her wand, picturing flames and a thrilled smirk.

"The Hog's Head," she decided, thinking of the relative frequency of patrons of ill repute. "I'll sit towards the back."

And so, away her patronus went. And then she went away, too. To the shady inn and on to a small round booth nestled in the back corner.

Caleb hadn’t even reached the end of his lane before he had a response. He couldn’t quite smile, because it was frustrating that after all this time a meeting was so quickly arranged. It didn’t fall on any parties’ shoulders, he knew. His thoughts could be self-involved but he had perspective enough to take his share of the fault. Whether Katherine could, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the patronuses worked two ways, and he had sent it first.

(Not that he was keeping score.)

He apparated off to Hogsmeade and stepped down the lane, reaching up to run a hand through his carefully done hair, ruffling it. The act of breaking the seal of gel did more than make him look more casual and at ease – there was something defiant to it, a turn on the expectations and rules he allowed himself to subscribe to. He was breaking form. He was taking control. Expectations be damned.

He slipped into the pub and cast an eye around. He caught sight of Katherine and nodded, before turning towards the bartender, signaling for service. He strode across the room and slunk into the seat across from her, folding his hands on the table. “I was at a brunch when I realized I was in the mood for a bonfire.” He arched an eyebrow. Anyone could be listening. Best to toe the line between suggestion and subtlety. “Have you been well?”

Amused that he insisted on sitting all the way across from her, Katherine kicked her feet up on the empty space of the seat between them and leaned back. She anticipated some dirty looks from their server, of course, but she didn't care. Really, if they didn't want people doing this, they shouldn't have made the seat round to begin with.

She smiled lazily at his greeting and tilted her foot towards him in its high-heeled shoe. Not enough to touch, as she predicted a disapproving look, but close enough, perhaps, to draw his attention. Just for fun. Plus, Caleb looked quite comfortable, which was entertaining. But surprising him and making him uncomfortable was vastly more exciting.

"Well, you know I'm more than happy to pick out a campsite as needed," she drawled, more pleasantly than she really meant it. It was beneath that pleasantry that her nearly sultry amusement lingered.

His question was a tedious one, but she knew it's real purpose. It wasn't about the how such much as the where and the why of their distance. Of her absence. Kit waved a hand, casual but cheeky as well. "Oh, Caleb. It's been horribly dull without you. Is that what you'd been hoping to hear?

"I'll grant you, I've been pretty bored lately. But unless you think you can do me some good this time, I may be better off handling things on my own. Don't you think? You did well, of course. And your career could certainly come in handy one day if I'm ever in.. trouble. But I'm searching for something, now. And I'm not sure it will be enough to hold your interest after I so stupidly tried to last time. I've worked it out," she said, her feet dropping back to the floor. "I'm going to do well enough without you if I must, but we both know you could come in handy. I won't sit back while you play your little games on me, Flint. But I would be more than happy to play them with you, instead."

Part of him absolutely hated that she seemed so blasé and relaxed. He felt so wound up and restless, and she looked like she had enjoyed a vacation. He hoped that it was mostly an invention, another game to play cool to try and best him, especially because the alternative meant that she hadn’t minded the inaction, the quiet, the passivity.  He couldn’t believe that, not just because he had seen the fire in her eyes far before it left her wand, but because if he didn’t have a true ally in the Avery woman, he might not have an ally anywhere.

Not in this, at least.

Not in what mattered.

As she confirmed her own boredom, he felt a small trickle of relief, though the stoniness did not leave his face as he felt a sense of anger and indignation bubble up. “If I recall, I arranged this meeting,” he reminded her. “If you think I’m going to beg for further invitation, you may need to look for a more docile… camper.” Stupid, f*cking metaphors. “I called you here. If you think I have games in mind, then you must be playing solitaire, love, because I stopped playing games a long time ago.”

Katherine couldn't help it. She really couldn't. Despite her best efforts, her lips parted in a single brief laugh as she turned her gaze towards the rest of the pub. "Perfect," she declared, pleased with his impatience. It may have had little to do with Kit, herself. And that was fine, sort of. But at least she had someone with ambition who was willing to - or maybe even wanting to - work with her.

An eyebrow lifted at the undoubtedly meaningless endearment, but she nodded anyway as she turned back to him. "Fair enough," she went on, having to physically stop herself from adding on a snippy version of that endearment right back. There was no need to make him more annoyed, now that they were past whatever that greeting had amounted to.

Finally, she sat forward, curling the fingers of her right hand so she could rest her chin on the backs of them. "Did you have something specific that you needed me for, then? You were the one that asked for the meeting," she went on, a teasing little smile betraying just how pleased she was about that.

"I don't doubt you could've gone to someone else if you'd wanted to, so what can I do for you, Caleb?"

He couldn't blame her. If he had the whole situation figured out, and his confidence in his abilities made it almost impossible to doubt that he had it solved, then this was all new for her. He secrets, the plans to take down an entire society while moving silently through it, sweating one's goal off in the woolen disguise pulled over one's hide. She hadn't grown exhausted from feeding a flame that never ignited.

He had.

But that could change.

She reeled back her blasé attitude and focused back - thank the gods, wherever they were.

What did he want. That had been the question for all these years. What did you give to someone who had money, influence, women, brains, ambition. All that he valued he had, in some capacity. It wasn't enough.

"I thought we could perhaps show our parent's old country club how to really party."

Kit's face changed, one of interest and consideration appearing in place of the blank expression that had come before. But that, as is ever predictable in scenarios like theirs, was the perfect timing for their lazy - and rather sleezy, Katherine might add - server to intervene.

Realizing she'd been leaning forward with a bit too much curiosity, Katherine slid backwards, her spine finding the seat again.

After stating her request - though it was obviously more of a demand, coming from her - for a vodka martini (up and dirty), she attempted to look less impatient than she was until the man wandered over to the bar.

"What's the angle, then?" She asked, wasting no more time. "If you tell me this can somehow lead me to more information on that little club we stopped at a few weeks ago, I'd do just about anything you wanted."

Okay, so that was probably pointed. And entirely untrue. But she kind of liked the idea that he'd think it were true. Maybe he'd request something outrageous and she'd finally start to determine where his head was truly at.

Caleb hurriedly ordered his scotch, less out of need or desire, and more out of the habit of throwing money towards any comfort that presented itself. He was bringing his focus back to his breathing, realizing how out of character the tightness in his face was, the seriousness of his brow. He looked as serious as he could, in a damn yellow cardigan. He leaned back as Katherine ordered, reaching up to run a hand through his curls, loosening them further, mussing them into a more roguish, Caleb-ish style.

She turned her eyes back on him and he couldn’t help it. He dropped his chin to his chest, taking a deep breath to expel a heavy sigh, but a exasperated laugh fell from his lips instead. He rolled his neck so his head was back to (almost) upright and squinted at her. “You know there’s no cameras, right? This isn’t a spy movie with catchy one liners. Life is more complicated than angles and clear lines of loyalty and through lines of thought. Sometimes you do something because you want to, because you’re bored, because if you don’t, you may as well throw yourself in a lake. And a few years ago I woke up bored, and I haven’t stopped yet. Not until our last meeting.”

He paused. “But if it’s information you want, the way I see it… If you want to kill rats, you don’t become a cat. You starve the cat so they have no choice but to go hunt.”

Katherine rolled her eyes at first, but his admission - regardless of how secretive, or not, he meant it to be - brought her eyes back to his. And then she shook her head with a full-blown smirk.

"Now, now. I may be wrong, but don't spy stories also come with loose women and guns?" She tilted her head slyly. "I doubt you'll find those in a country club, Flint."

Shaking her head, Katherine sank her hands into the booth seat's cushion and used that leverage to scoot herself around the seat until she was next to him. "Listen, mate, it's like you said. It's got to be worthwhile in some way or other, so why do that when we could do something else?" She asked, lowering her chin just enough that she had to look up at him to still maintain eye contact. "So if the country club is the plan, Caleb, then I want an angle. And it want it directed at my brother."