I only want a girl who ain't afraid to love me
Not a metaphor but we really could be
Oh, I ain't putting on a show

Roma Avery Warrington - outfit

It was high time that Nora got her head on straight, she had decided. It was very unlike her to allow anything to seize control of her, wether it was sorrow or anger or fear. She had always known what she wanted, done what was necessary, and demanded respect while she was at it. That was why she was where she was in this moment. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, head of one of the major departments in the Ministry, and in charge of a union of powerful families that was big enough to have political leverage in a government that needed support from as many families as it could get. Nora knew how to wield her power, she had always fought for it, and having gained it she would not allow it to take over her life. She would not allow her job to take any more time away from home, she would not allow her reputation to take her father from her, and she would not allow her family's duties to alter her temperament. She was done with that, well and done. It had been a sudden clarity that she'd gained, sitting in her office after lunch, drinking her thirteenth cup of coffee of the day. She wasn't just tired and exhausted; she was sick of everything. Eleanor was not a slave to her position, she was not a slave to anything.

Without further ado, she had left the office, told Monroe she was done for the week and to put everything else on the waiting list. Roma and her children were overdue for attention. She had decided, however, to leave the children to the weekend. No doubt Roma would want to invite her Avery niece and nephew to spend some time with their new family. Tonight was just about her partner, she had sent a note ahead to the casino to reserve one of the private rooms in the top floor. One with the warmed balconies and a private setting. She had sent word for Roma to find her there, because of course Roma had a lot of work to do at the Prophet and with the Minister. Just because Nora had decided to take the evening and afternoon off didn't mean that she was obliged to. She'd sent the invitation with flowers, but the bouquet had been made by Nora herself, from the flowers of her greenhouses. A lovely, elegant thing, with flowers far more exotic than boring old roses. The afternoon had been spent with her father, helping him in whatever mad project he had decided he wanted now. She'd had to dissuade him from becoming a snatcher, telling him that Jules had quit that already and it could indeed no become a grandson-grandfather bonding activity. He could do that with Ivan, if he so wished. For the rest, it had been a blood ritual of some sort to create a golem. Of course, her father's mind was failing and he got the runes wrong, which meant it all failed. It was entertaining, though, even if the blood had taken ages to get out from under her nails.

She'd gone to the casino. She'd won several rounds of poker -the benefits of living in Knocturn Alley with her many make cousins for so many years- and then promptly returned to the room she had reserved for Roma and her. Cocktail in hand -something emerald green, she recalled it was mint absinthe, delightful- she had made her way back, only to find Roma already seated. Blinking, she smiled warmly. "Darling! I thought you would be delayed longer, an hour more at the very least." Walking forwards, she laid down the drink on the table and kissed her wife warmly on the lips. "Forgive me if I started drinking ahead of you. Friday nights are something I have missed so very dreadfully." Then she, the far shorter of the two, sank down to sit on Roma's lap instead of her own seat. Merlin and Morgana, how she had missed such intimacy. Plus, it was all private, nobody to hide from or show decorum for. "How was your day?"

No, real loving is sure
The way that I love, there's no taking my place
Stare at you, right in your face

outfit

Once the flowers had arrived in Roma's office, her evening was sealed. With the note cracked open, so was the rest of Roma's day. While the Prophet's stories could be managed and rearranged, the Minister was not as easy to reschedule. Roma did appreciate that, truly. She was aware of the pretty picture they all made once together: the petite Minister, dark-curled and pale-skinned, the strawberry blonde lawyer, the similarly petite blazing redhead, and Roma herself, the tallest of the four. She supposed with their stories, they fit each other well enough-- the former blood traitor, the politically neutral, the woman caught between both sides, and Roma herself, whose loyalties had never been in question. Black and Lestrange, Macmillan and Cavanagh, Gamp and Burke, Avery and Warrington-- most of those names rang out, dug deep. They were mostly cousins of some sort, with Hesper's husband as a second cousin removed from Roma's mother, as well as a first cousin of the Minister's father. Nora was connected in other, closer ways, and Ephraim doubtless had some lesser relation. Certainly they were also connected in other ways, and the red hair of Hesper and Isolde might be some Prewett trait from some centuries back.

True magical lines were tangled in blood, and there were those who could not understand for all they claimed the title and lineage. The Sacred Twenty-Eight were a Burke invention, but there had been other lists, other gatherings of families and clans, and Roma's were on all of them. The Burkes showed up on others, and Dolohov history ran deep in Russia. Semele had had the true raising of Roma when her mother could not go through the days without Arcturus. Roma had sworn to herself then she'd never be so undone at the loss of any man, even were she desperately in love with him. The promise had always rung hollow to her own ears, distant as the edges of Chukotka. It hadn't been until some years later Roma realized why, once she discovered how deeply her feelings truly ran for Eleanor Selwyn.

Had she pictured this then? Had her imagination ran this deeply, this ambitiously for themselves? Yes and no. Roma had always seen herself as more of a warrior, a firebrand than an adviser and editor-in-chief of a paper. That fire had been tempered some by age, forged into something more appropriate, beaten into a mold she shaped herself. How many other women could claim the same-- that they'd chosen their path and fit themselves to it? Roma stood high by her credentials and her blood, her lover's laurels were near as polished as her flawless nails, their sons were educated young lords with handfuls of specialties, their daughter following a respectable path and soon to be wed to an heir of a well-connected family.

Even with all the years in the work camps, slaving away in near-a-prison for a fanatical man's wishes, Roma wouldn't choose anther path. This was had brought them into the light, where they longer needed to hide in passageways, where they might flaunt their love and damn the others, as there was nothing their patriarchs might have done then. They had came through the fire, brilliant, hard-edged, and together. Roma might at times wish they might spend more time with each other, but such was the price they had paid for their titles and positions, every one of which her lover fully deserved.

Once seated at the room Eleanor had reserved, Roma had only to wait the space of a handful of breaths (barely enough time to finish removing her heels) before the door opened, and Nora entered, magnificent as always, the smile Roma loved so on her lips. "I was fortunate, and there was little for me today to do much for." She returned the kiss, hand grazing Nora's collarbone. Absinthe, she thought. "Excellent taste, as always."

Roma gave a laugh, shifting to accommodate her lover as she skimmed her hand to Nora's hip, her heat burning through her dress. She was grateful she'd worn something relatively thinner today, really. "It was Friday, and the Prophet was eager enough to leave on a slower day, though they'll regret that come Sunday, I've no doubt." Her lips curled into a smile, and she pressed a light kiss on the nape of Nora's neck. "Your Friday was not as merciful as mine, I suspect?"

We could be bigger and brighter than space Ain't no running away No, real loving is sure The way that I love, there's no taking my place Stare at you, right in your face     Nora had been very busy with all sorts of duties, of late, and their children were included in those. Not Ivan, the oldest of the boys was always focussed on his studies rather than on people. The day he actually needed to get married would come and she and Roma would have to find someone for him, no doubt. It was futile to expect him to be interested in anyone on his own accord. No, it was Jules who had kept her busy, and even then it wasn't that he was giving her work but rather that all this business with his previous relationship and his future engagement had worn her thin. It was likely more draining than all her work put together, to be honest, because it was an emotional sort of draining. It had nothing to do with stress or being overworked, it was just the grief of knowing her son was hurting and that she had caused it. Wether it was because she was the one telling him no or because she was the one that had raised him to make this mistake, it didn't matter. Either way, she was to blame for his current state. She needed to distract herself from all of that and she knew that she had been neglecting her beloved. This way, she got rid of both problems simultaneously as well as getting enough drinks in herself to get her own spirits up. So far, it seemed to be working.     "That's good to hear. I've missed you lately." Smiling, she tilted her face closer to Roma's until their noses were brushing. The air was warm between them, which was a good thing. They'd shared a bed for many years, but there was nothing quite like feeling her love's warmth all around her. They'd gone through many things, helped each other survive a war and marriages and the work camps. As long as they were together, everything would be fine. The world was as dangerous as always, really, and it was unlikely that everything would stay the same forever. They weren't the same young women as back in the first war and they weren't the mother of young children as they were in the work camps either. If anything changed, after this, they would be able to handle it all far better than before. "Oh, employees on Friday... always so eager to postpone their suffering for a few more hours of leisure."     Laughing lightly, she grabbed her glass from the table and tilted it against Roma's lips, giving her a sip. Then she took one of her own and put it back down, tasting the bite of the strong spirit on her tongue and then in her throat. She shook her head at the question. Oh, no, her day had not been easy at all. Nothing was easy lately, it was nothing new, and things actually seemed to get harder by the day. It was the result of her questionable emotional state, she knew. Some days, she sat after working and had a drink and wondered if that was how cousin Thorfinn felt. If every day he just sat there in silence and wondered what it would feel like to fade into nothing that very second. It she would feel lighter as she vanished, free from her worries, or heavier because of the load she dropped on everyone she left behind. Of course, she would never find out. Those were foolish, selfish, intrusive thoughts that weren't worth entertaining. Sometimes she just couldn't help it anymore. It was the guilt, probably. She had done many things and killed many people and hurt even more without batting an eye, without a shred of remorse. The difference was that she had not loved any of them, and Morgana did she love her Jules.     "I've always known Lords were more trouble than they were worth, my love, but I had never quite known the extent of it until I was put in charge of an entire room of them with political power to boot." With a last sigh, she shook her head and dispelled all uncomfortable thoughts and downed her drink. There, done with all of that. Tonight was about feeling good.

Roma Avery Warrington --- same OUTFIT 
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