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Sep. 21st, 2005 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clumsy_aurorAllbright leaned against the doorway to Nymphadora's cubicle. "Still getting letters?"
She looked up and sighed, nodding.
A displeased grunt. "And they're none of them overly nice, I'd wager."
"Well." Nymphadora dropped her quill and massaged her temples. "Some of them are okay. But most -- yeah. Most of them aren't really all that wonderful."
"You might consider," he said, "throwing them a bit of a bone, so to speak. Tell them you got married, and when, so they can't deny knowing. I mean, I'm not saying send them a bloody wedding photo, but just take away their plausible deniability. Give them something real to print."
"Really think that'll help?" she asked wearily.
"Don't see that it can hurt." Allbright surveyed her, his brow furrowing. "Tonks, you look like rubbish. Take the rest of the week off."
She blinked. "What? No, I've got the Burlington case analysis to finish, and--"
"Kingsley'll do it. It's fine." She opened a mouth to protest again, and he held up a hand. "No arguments. You're in a stressful position, just now, and you're pregnant. I won't have you raking yourself over the coals on my watch. Nor," he added, "do I particularly want to get an earful from that husband of yours when you come home looking like death warmed over. Be back on Monday." And with one final stern look, Allbright turned and stalked back to his office.
For a minute she just sat there. Then she heaved a deep sigh and started gathering up her things. And if a few case files found their way into her bag, what of it?
As she headed out the door a few minutes later, Nymphadora decided to see about a Portkey to Rome.
She looked up and sighed, nodding.
A displeased grunt. "And they're none of them overly nice, I'd wager."
"Well." Nymphadora dropped her quill and massaged her temples. "Some of them are okay. But most -- yeah. Most of them aren't really all that wonderful."
"You might consider," he said, "throwing them a bit of a bone, so to speak. Tell them you got married, and when, so they can't deny knowing. I mean, I'm not saying send them a bloody wedding photo, but just take away their plausible deniability. Give them something real to print."
"Really think that'll help?" she asked wearily.
"Don't see that it can hurt." Allbright surveyed her, his brow furrowing. "Tonks, you look like rubbish. Take the rest of the week off."
She blinked. "What? No, I've got the Burlington case analysis to finish, and--"
"Kingsley'll do it. It's fine." She opened a mouth to protest again, and he held up a hand. "No arguments. You're in a stressful position, just now, and you're pregnant. I won't have you raking yourself over the coals on my watch. Nor," he added, "do I particularly want to get an earful from that husband of yours when you come home looking like death warmed over. Be back on Monday." And with one final stern look, Allbright turned and stalked back to his office.
For a minute she just sat there. Then she heaved a deep sigh and started gathering up her things. And if a few case files found their way into her bag, what of it?
As she headed out the door a few minutes later, Nymphadora decided to see about a Portkey to Rome.
