A Smile And A Song [Rufus!]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 642 ( TAGGED ) RUFUS ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Ambalee had tried very hard not to fuss, as her foster lady told her (Ambalee refused to think of the shrill, angry female as a mum figure to anyone – even the lady’s two big boys probably had better mums in their teachers than in this lady) but the foster lady had tugged the brush too hard and it had hurt and Ambalee didn’t care that one of the big boys called her a baby for crying. What made her mad was that the foster lady didn’t even say she was sorry. She just tutted and finished doing Ambalee’s braid like she hadn’t done a bad thing. Thoroughly frustrated with these foster folk, Ambalee knew better than to throw a fit. Her Daddy had always told her to use her words, but honestly she had nothing to say to these people. Not one single thing. So when her hair was done, Ambalee had stomped back to her bedroom and closed the door, picked up her favorite doll Miss Emily, and sat down on the bed with a huff. Today was her meeting day, which meant that she would get to see her Nice Lady, Auntie Andie soon. That at least was a comfort. Ambalee just wished that the adult stuff would finish faster – she wanted to be with her Auntie and not with these people. There was something off about the foster man, and she just did not like the foster lady and all her loudness, and the foster boys were just big and rowdy. Nice though – nicer than their parents were, at any rate. Ambalee wondered how that happened. She didn’t have much time to wonder before the foster lady had come to take her through the floo to the Ministry. Her grip on Ambalee’s hand was painful, but Ambalee didn’t complain. She had nothing to say to this lady, because anything she had wasn’t nice and Daddy said if you have nothing nice to say you are not to say anything at all cause rudeness is bad. It wasn’t long until they were in the meeting room, but Auntie Andie wasn’t there yet and wouldn’t be for some time. Ambalee was sent to the make-shift play-center the Ministry had devised as part of the ‘Lost Kids’ program they’d been forced to accumulate, but Ambalee had no intentions of staying there. She waited until the watchers were busy talking to one another before she slipped out and made her way back to the lift. After a moment of humming, Ambalee picked a button and poked it, before getting careened onto her butt when the lift jerked into motion. Giggling, Ambalee picked herself up from the floor and tried to stay balanced. The lift came to a stop and she went right back onto her butt, making her giggle again. Being quite used to landing on her bottom, Ambalee got right back up without any crying, and skipped out of the lift. Folding her hands behind herself, Ambalee bounced along, looking this way and that, humming mindlessly and just plain enjoying herself when suddenly there was a person. Ambalee didn’t have any time to stop, so she ended up crashing right into the person’s legs, and falling back onto her bottom again, though this time was much less funny. Biting her bottom lip, Ambalee tilted her head and looked up to see who she had bumped into. She looked up – and up – and stared. She knew that face. ”You’re on Daddy’s paper!” Ambalee exclaimed, pointing up at who was, no less than Rufus Scrimgeour himself. ”Or…you... Daddy doesn’t have papers now…but you might still be in them…” Ambalee trailed off, confused, knowing there was a different way of speaking about people when they went to Heaven but not sure quite how it was done. Tenses were still a bit beyond her. how can you not want this kid?!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

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[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] TAG: escapee child, WORDS: 1047, NOTES: <3 IVE SEEN THE BEST OF ME GO PAST [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Rufus Scrimgeour was pacing. It was far from an unusual occurrence, he could often be found walking tight circles, mute and pensive. The second attack on Hogsmeade had been better handled, a plan formulated after the disaster of the first attack, after promising that he would not again be caught so off guard and sat waiting in the wings should the enemy attempt to make such a move again. And it had worked. Turning fear back against those who would utilise it as their strength. There had been considerable success in thwarting the enemy, lives saved without all out fury at any potential complete extermination of the werewolves at the heart of the attack, members of the death eaters ranks even captured. Anyone else might have considered it a victory, might have rewarded themselves with a good nights sleep, with a large meal, perhaps even a lie in at least past the four am that had become the usual waking hour. But not Rufus. The battle had been a much needed step in the right direction, a mark back to the offensive action that should be governing their war effort. But it was not a victory. Too many had still been lost, to many exposed to the werewolves as Voldemort had planned. There was still so much more that needed to be done. So it was he had been found the very next day at his desk as usual at seven am having already been there for some hours. ‘No rest for the wicked dear minister’ Dolores Umbridge had smiled at him with a giggle, he’d resisted a sudden split second though deeply tempting urge to throw the paperweight on his desk in her general direction. Since the battle in the rare moments he was alone Rufus could be found in his pacing, brooding silently over matters. Much to the horror of his security detail he had taken to the battle field without so much as a word. And had stumbled across a sight he would never have anticipated. Bellatrix Lestrange. A dementor looming over her preparing for the ultimate punishment, the kiss. There had been no others around as she fell to her knees. For a long, long moment he had stood silent. He could leave, he had told himself. Turn his back and pretend he had seen nothing, choose to do nothing. Thus denying the enemy of his lieutenant, seeing the terrors of Bellatrix Lestrange met with a final well deserved miserable end. The slave had been rescued by its master once; even the chance of it happening again could not be allowed. It would have been the easer and by far the more logical option. Enough so that he had even began the walk before stopping himself. Easy. Logical. By far the better move for this war. But not right. Not justice. If anyone deserved their full sentence in Azkaban it was Bellatrix. One only need think of Frank and Alice to confirm that. Her sentence had been given and justice demanded that was the punishment served. If anyone deserved to rot for their sins it was her and yet if anyone deserved to be removed from existence, to be made as soulless as their crimes had already pegged them he could think of no one better. But that was not the justice he had placed his faith in for long, not the system he had governed himself by all these years, not the moral, legal code he had set down for himself decades previously. So he had stood for a long moment, wand clutched before finally a surrendering growl escaped him, knowing full well he was going to regret the decision. And regretting it he ready was stood momentarily on the second floor, the department of law enforcement, a home his pacing continued to return him to. Silently stood away from the busy offices and corridors, surveying the Ministry through a large window, a futile attempt to allow more light and space in their underground environment, looking down several floors to the main atrium. He had been raised with sensibilities others might now call old fashioned. Raised that you never raised your wand to a child or a woman, though years as an auror had caused some breaches of the latter. When it came to crimes of dark magic his colleagues were well acquainted with his righteous fury on the matter. But that was a pleasant summers breeze in comparison to crimes against children. There had never been that made him quite as sick to his stomach, no lower form of cowardice, nothing quite as despicable. Despite the momentary success Rufus remained angry. Ever increasingly so it seemed. The enemy had been wounded but he knew well enough that it would only make them more dangerous. A victory a fleeting call in giving the people hope, something to cling to in there desperation. More was needed. There was still so much to be done. He was jostled rather unceremoniously from his thoughts as a small force collided unexpectedly with him. Whatever he had been expecting to see as he looked down with a disgruntled glare it was not a small child on the floor staring up at him. The glare soon diminished to an arched eyebrow, returning her stare over the top of rectangular glasses. Hummm. So it seemed even children had free run of the Ministry now. He glanced for a moment up and down the corridor, awaiting a harried parent to come running frantically. But there was nothing. Surely someone had noted a missing child? Had he been another man he might have smiled at her as she announced she had seen him in her fathers papers, oh yes he was still in them. Far more then he would care. “Unfortunately so.” He confirmed dryly leaning down and with little effort lifting the tiny child back up and placing her back down set on her feet. Had the corridors not been deserted in the working hours certain members of his staff might have stood by and watched utterly dumfounded as he crouched from his rather considerable gangly height to meet her at eye level. “Where are your parents child?” He asked, a wariness to his tone though it was not unkindly. [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 501 ( TAGGED ) RUFUS ( STATUS ) COMPLETE The look she got from the paper-man wasn’t exactly nice. Ambalee felt a little bit like a bug that just got stepped on – like she was something gooey and unpleasant to him. It made her shift back a bit unconsciously, and her lip wibbled just a little bit at his dry and humorless tone. He leaned down then, and Ambalee instinctively cringed back from him. It was not often that Ambalee flinched away from human touch, but there was something about this stern man from the papers that made her feel a little scared. Yet when he plucked her up and set her back on her feet, Ambalee tilted her head slightly in curiosity. He crouched down so that he was on level with her, which gave Ambalee a clear view of his oddly yellow gaze. That was when she understood him, just a bit better. Smiling, Ambalee reached out and patted him on the head, much like she would a good kitty. The paper-man wasn’t mean, he was just a cat-person. Cats were nice, but they weren’t friendly like dogs were. They also didn’t like to be bothered, so it made sense that he’d given her the bug eye for bumping into him. It also made sense to pet him for being nice anyway. At his question, Ambalee took her hand back and smiled. ”Mommy and Daddy are in Heaven.” She told him politely, not thinking that she should be sad about this. Daddy had always told her that Heaven was a happy place, and she knew that Daddy had missed Mommy for a very long time and been very sad without her. So it made sense to be happy they were together again, even if it meant she was alone and would have to wait until her Auntie Andie could adopt her. Remembering that a lot of Daddy’s adult friends had always seemed sad about Mommy being in Heaven even though it was a happy place, Ambalee thought it might be best to explain it a little better for the kitty-man from Daddy’s papers. ”Mommy’s been there a long time, but the werewolves took Daddy there.” Here her nose wrinkled, and for a moment she did look like she just might cry – though not because she was sad her Daddy was in Heaven, but because he had to go there so badly. ”Daddy’s happy now. And I’m going to be adoptered!” She exclaimed, smiling brightly at this concept, because it meant she wouldn’t have to make lemonade stands so she could have money to make sandwiches until she was old enough for a big people job and knew how to make other food for herself. Remembering her manners that her Daddy had taught her, Ambalee took a small step back and gave a sheepish smile as she said, ”I’m sorry I bumped into you mister paper-man! My name’s Ambalee – though Daddy calls me Bambi. You can too!” She added with a grin. She liked being called Bambi, after all. how can you not want this kid?!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

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[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] TAG: escapee child, WORDS: 686, NOTES: =) there's a heart in there somewhere... IVE SEEN THE BEST OF ME GO PAST [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]His own head tilted slightly, watching quizzically as she of all the things in the world, reached up and patted him on the head like one would rewarding a pet for good behaviour. As if rewarding the rare moment of compassion from him. He said nothing, merely watching her with a slightly arched eyebrow. What a peculiar child. Ah. He promptly came to the conclusion he had asked the wrong question indeed. He stifled the hard sigh that threatened to escape him as she told the small tragic tale of her little life so far, matter of factly and politely. It was only for a moment she looked as if she would cry. Don't cry. He willed silently. A child was one thing but a crying child was quite another, he certainly wouldn't have any idea what to do with her if she was in floods of tears. He had, had very little to do with children in his time. While his sister had been significantly younger then him, he had already been wrapped in the obsession of his career by that point, she had been a child only fleetingly between his rare visits and even then their mother had often laughed at his uncanny knack at attempting to speak to children as if they were fully grown adults. The werewolves. How many other orphans had been left after the last battle he wondered. If Rufus was anything it was a man of duty, a man of responsibility. He had taken the position of Minister under the sole oath to do everything within his power to protect the citizenry. Under the sole promise that this war would be done before it had even been started. And despite what others may think as they watched his movements he had meant it, with every fibre. But everything he had soon learnt wasn't quite good enough. Giving everything was a matter more complicated then he had ever paused to imagine, the cost of lives had been weighed so many times in his mind, weighed against strategy, the cost of who was most important to be saved above others it would haunt him for the rest of his days. Rufus was not a man who failed. And yet here this lost little girl stood, alone, deprived of her father. For a man who had made himself so very cold, closing himself from the world, from all those who could touch him, all those who could hurt him, there was such a guilt that gnawed and grated in the darkness. For a moment he pondered what those young eyes had already been forced to witness so early in life and felt a new surge of fury at the enemy, so uncaring of their consequences, of the mess they left behind for others to tidy away as best they could. Thankfully the smile was soon back on her face. There was something infectious about her contented nature. She announced with all the certainty in the world, a certainty only a child could possess that her father was happy and she was being 'adoptered'. He made a mental note to check the adoption registry later for the assurance a good family awaited this child, the last thing needed was further cruelty. “That's quite alright. Be more careful in future, you'll get yourself hurt.” Rufus informed her with his usual cold matter of fact manner as she apologised for bumping into him. The world was not full of people willing to pick you back up onto your feet, especially not now but even he could recognise that was a level of old suspicious cynicism best left unsaid to a little girl. “It's nice to meet you Ambalee... Bambi. My name is Rufus.” He couldn't remember the last time he had actually introduced himself to someone, the wizarding world was so insular in it's nature it had long proven unnecessary. “Now...” Sharp yellow eyes surveyed her over the top of wire rimmed spectacles, like a piece of a puzzle out of place. “Where are you meant to be?” [/style]

TABLE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING @ CAUTION 2.0

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 491 ( TAGGED ) RUFUS ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Ambalee giggled – she couldn’t help it. The cat man was funny, and in a way he reminded her a bit of her Daddy. ”I’ll try,” She promised, bobbing into another curtsy simply because they were fun, and it felt like the right thing to do at the time. She was perpetually clumsy and she knew that promising to be more careful was a promise she could only make if she promised to try. One did not break promises – not ever! Since she would fall and stumble even when she was being careful, this was the strongest of promises she could make. At the introduction, Ambalee stared a moment, before she burst into a peel of giggles that were somehow bell-like without being shrill. Her hands came to clutch at her belly, which felt funny when she laughed like this, and the amusement seemed to roll off the little one in waves. Rufus. Rufus. Who named a cat-man Rufus? That’s a dog name! It even sounded like what dogs say! Oh what silly people, naming cat people like they are dog people. ”You look more like Alonzo to me!” Ambalee declared, thinking of the brown and black tom-cat from her favorite theater play with all the music. Deciding that Alonzo truly suited Mister Rufus far better than his silly people name, she decided that was his new name. He was her Alonzo! She wondered if he could sing. ”What?” She asked, distracted by thoughts of Alonzo singing and what that might sound like with his admittedly dog-like voice. Growly. He would sound growly. ”Oh!” She exclaimed, realizing what he had asked. With a slight wrinkle of her nose, Ambalee confessed, ”Its meeting time. So papers and things. They want me to play with the other kids, but they all feel like sad and confused. I wanted to see what the adults who didn’t feel like boring were doing.” Bouncing on the tips of her toes, Ambalee looked around herself before stating in an off-hand sort of way that was jarringly adult for someone of her age, ”They won’t notice unless I’m still gone when the clock rings again.” It generally took two hours to go through things during the visits, sometimes less. So long as she was back sometime after the first sound of the clock and before the second one, nobody ever noticed her as missing. ”We all look the same to adults.” And in that moment, Ambalee confessed herself a bit more aware, a bit more attuned to her world, than most people twice her own age. Turning her gaze back to Alonzo, Ambalee smiled brightly and stated, ”I can stay with you until then! Or I can go into the lift again. The lifts are fun.” She told him solemnly, like this was very obvious and she was certain he already knew, but she was polite so she was telling him that she too agreed with this universal truth. how can you not want this kid?!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5