A Gift Only He Can Give: the Truth (Tag: John)

It had been nearly three weeks since Madison last spoke to John, and visited the Order much less frequently since their last venture together. At first Madison was too angry to speak to him, and probably would have cursed him without a second glance, had they crossed paths. But he seemed to understand that Professor Reid was not to be trifled with, and had done little to alter their lack of association thus far. The space had allowed her to thoroughly vent her frustrations into other, more productive outlets, such as tidying her office (it was now more organized than it had been in years), catching up on all the grading that had been piling up on her desk, and she had even finished reading that one book on Egyptian artifacts that she just never had the time for before.

As far as the Order went, it was resemble more of a distant memory rather than one of her top priorities. Members disappearing had become a regular routine, and it was becoming more and more difficult to cope with. Especially now, when there only seemed to be a handful of members remaining, herself included. Relying on the Order to make things happen just no longer seemed practical. And yet, today she found herself at headquarters, sifting through some of the old paperwork Michelle left behind. Madison was seated in a chair somewhat in the middle of the long dining table in the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork set out neatly in front of her in a few separate piles. At the other end of the room, the fireplace illuminated the room, whilst the curtains at each window were drawn.

Honestly, after this long, Madison didn't expect anyone to be here except her, and why she even bothered coming here herself she wasn't sure. Eventually, she set down the paper in her hand, and leaned back in her chair as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Her thoughts began drifting, though started to dwell on what she needed to get done when she got back to Hogwarts. Things had dwindled back down into the dull day-to-day work, but at least she didn't have to deal with any surprises.

The days became long and the nights became even longer. Instead of stagnating, doing nothing of importance, John found himself diving into his work. Work consumed his life for the most part, stopping him from dwelling on unsavioring memories, and deep rooted feelings that he kept denying to himself. He was an informant, free flowing with information, that is what he is good at. The ministry had many skeletons in their closet, he just had to ferret out some to expose them for what they truly are, Corrupt.

That is what he has been doing the last few weeks. During the day he would visit a friend in Cardiff, or speed time in a local dinner, where several Ministry officials go. The other times he could be seen writing trivial news articles in the Daily Prophet, listening for a new scoop, something that peaks his interest to investigate that others think is trivial or too dangerous. At nights though he spent his evenings at the Order Headquarters filing reports, browsing the Hard copy data base, or busy planning his next move.

Today was different from all the other days. Sometimes he hated being himself, knowing things he wasn't suppose too. It weighed heavy on his mind. He debated on whether he should tell her, them or keep it to himself. His dilemma was answer by the rustling of papers from the Meeting Room, just down the hall from the entrance way. The door was slightly ajar but he knocked anyways, seeing Madison on the far end, her nose buried in a book.

It was the first time in three weeks since he saw her. Had her bitter hatred quel or was is still fueling her, he could not tell. Without waiting for a response he entered the Meeting Room, which could hardly be call that now since we had so many few members left scattered across Great Britain. "Ms. Re-Madison, what are you doing here this late of evening?"

Those images, those unexplain feelings surfaced once more. His quips and light hearted playfulness that annoyed her, to the arguments they had over books about History, to yes even that day three weeks ago...all of it. "I got news on Matthew Harrison, he was found dead this morning in the Dark Wood Forrest. The official reports is he was attacked by bears and died several weeks back. I thought you should know."

This wasn't the information he wanted to tell her. The knowledge festered and started to eat away at him, but he remain silence for now. Now wasn't the right time.

She glanced up as someone knocked on the door, and as John appeared, she took that moment to take a sip of her drink, to spare having to react to him just yet. When she set the cup down and looked at him though, she couldn't look long before retracting her gaze and looking back down at the papers in front of her. Their last meeting after all, was not the most typical of circumstances, and though she was angry for a length of time, now the thought only embarrassed her. Seeing him was only a reminder of the whole incident. So, fairly easily, she took to not looking at him at all, acting as though her paperwork demanded her full attention.

"Change of scenery, I suppose," she replied before flipping through a few pages; hearing about Matthew, she gave a short sigh and she leaned back in her chair again, "Seems bad news is becoming a theme here." She took a stack of the sorted papers and shoved them to the side, before crossing her legs and looking off towards the fireplace. "Ministry must've been covering their tracks." She murmured to herself as she thoughtfully brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

She sat there for a time, straying off on her own thoughts before realizing he was still there. She reluctantly looked his way tilting her head ever so slightly as she asked, "Anything else?" Her tone was short and to the point, as though the only motivation he could have for speaking to her was strictly over business. She obviously wasn't ready to discuss anything regarding their previous encounter, and didn't think she would be for a long time. In fact, she would rather forget it ever happened, but unfortunately, the image of John in boxers was permanently burned into the back of her mind. The thought was utterly distracting, and was the reason she had been avoiding eye contact thus far.

John stood in the middle of the long rectangular room, trying to gleam anything off Madison's expression. Was it the soft flickering lights that had aged her, or was it something else entirely, but this wasn't the same women he meet all those months ago. She still held that preservation in appearance. Her hair spiral in perfect spires over her shoulder, her eyeliner perfectly align, her skin was flawless, but in the short time John knew her, she had changed.

She was a women that was constantly defeated. The pillar of unyielding strength she wears like a royal cloak, has withered away with time, maybe even long before he walked into her life. She was less than herself, constantly bombarded by terrible news, leaving only shattered pieces in her wake as she walk through life. That is what he saw, when see could not hold his stare anymore.

Instead of withdrawing, back to the haven of, too, being alone with his own consciousness, he stood fast. He did not even take a second thought of his decision. Those unceremonial deep rooted thoughts he had of her, or the lies he concocted to shield her from knowing the truth, All of those were meaningless at this point. He did not care about the repercussions at that moment, instead he moved beside Madison, and held out one of her hands to her in response to her last question. "Yes, There is more."

She glanced at him once again, straightening up in her chair as he approached, and she quirked an eyebrow and watched as he extended his hand. Madison gave him a sharp look before giving a sigh and a simple shake of her head, "I'd rather not." She still came off polite, but there was a firmness in her tone, warning him to tread lightly. She assumed he knew that although she was civil for now, that was leagues away from forgiveness. Without any explanation or reason for his gesture, she wouldn't be going anywhere with him.

John may as well have been a ghost, as Madison turned away to take another sip of her coffee, and returned her attention to the papers in front of her. She turned over a few slips of parchment, before finding an article from the Daily Prophet on a supposed Death Eater attack in Godric's Hollow. Unlikely she thought, despite the Death Eaters being very active, very rarely did the Prophet seem interested in their endeavors. And just because a muggle was attacked, it did not instantly connect back to the Death Eaters. She would have to read through the article to see if they held much evidence (often not the case), but that would have to wait. Realizing he was still hovering over her shoulder, Madison looked up again, her expression plain as she told him, "I'm not going anywhere with you John."

His childlike demeanor started to surface with her refusal to go. Just like the first day they meet, he was fascinated by her. Everything she did, everything she said it made him intoxicated. He wanted more. Instead of backing off, he thrived on her rejection, having a childlike glee in his eyes. "And I promise you two things: The day we meet that I promise you a date and 3 weeks ago the truth...about me."

"What do you say?" He stood tall, one had still held out while the other presented itself towards the door, as if he was the greeter in front of the church welcoming everyone inside. "Madison Elizabeth Reid,When was the last time you had fun?"

Her face contorted into what appeared to be disgust, as no matter how much she pushed him away, he remained- stuck to her like glue. She honestly couldn't understand why a man would waste so much time on a lost cause, but she had a feeling it had something to do with John seeing her half dressed just a few weeks prior. There was very little that John said that she could agree to, like how she never recalled wanting a date with him to begin with, or how she was a grown woman working what may as well have been two jobs- 'fun' wasn't on her agenda, and certainly not the kind of fun that qualified as a date.

But, as he was well aware, she did want to understand how the same gleeful idiot standing before her was also somehow an ace detective when presented with a crime scene, and what's more, a fairly adept wizard as well. After the incident, she didn't want anything to do with him, but he seemed to know exactly what kind of bait she would take. If it was to uncover the mystery behind the two-faced weasel, then surely she could endure a few hours or so with him. "I don't recall ever saying I wanted a date, nor do I remember telling you my full name." She finally answered, but all the same, she slid her hand into his, and rose to her feet.

"Every Great Adventure has a beginning," he said watching Madison slip like liquid fire off the chair and onto her feet, standing pose like a regal queen, but she too was one half of a two sided coin that never seemed to turn over, until now. "Ours begins with one word. One simple word...Run."

It was if the whole universe exploded inside him. Energy from a thousand of galaxies burning all at once, and he was driven mad with excitement as he headed through the doors, still holding on tight to Madison so she could not escape. Everything was a blur to him. He was in the Meeting Room, now he was outside running through the gardens. The only thing guiding him was the stars that weren't stars but fairies. The garden melted away and he was among the trees, the border of the headquarters, where they could safely apparate. Like smoke, like light, fire and ice all mixed together flourishing around their bodies. They were there but not there. The whole world around them shifted into smoke and ash, until it suddenly stop. The whole world stop and they reappeared at a Lakeside.

The whole of the universe, the moon and the stars reflected off the surface of the clear water. Firelight danced in the distance as the villa held life and breath in each and every wall. Standing before them a small table with red satin table linen, and two candles burning on candleholders as if she knew they were coming.

All John could say was, "wow." It took his breath away.

Madison didn't quite understand what he meant, until her arm was yanked forward and she was forced to run along with him to keep from planting her face into the ground. The minute he started dragging her out the door, every vile, malicious word she could muster just rolled off her tongue, but he just kept running, apparently having turned deaf for the time being. John never ceased to amaze with how blatantly he believed he could mistreat her.

But then he suddenly stopped, just passed the enchantments surrounded headquarters, and they disapparated away. She closed her eyes the minute the world began to shift, and when she opened them once more, the moon and its glossy reflection appeared where there had once been trees. She turned her gaze, and a villa stood off in the distance, and though beautiful, it gave her no inkling as to where they were. Finally, she looked at the table, and was admittedly surprised; she expected him to have much less class than this.

"You put some thought into this." She said, not asking, but merely observing, as she ran her fingertips along the table cloth to test the quality of fabric. She scanned over every detail, from the style of candle holders, to how comfortable the chairs looked from where she stood. It was as though she sought even the tiniest flaw that would set her off. But as she could spot nothing wrong at first glance, it was obvious that John planned for this date long before coming to her. Unsure whether that was a bad or good thing, Madison looked to him thoughtfully, waiting for him to move things along on this little 'date'.

The night was still, but still the spark of fire danced on their waxed podiums. Time froze for John for only a moment as he watched Madison fingers dragged her hands across the red silk. It flowed over her hands like water. He waited for her to say something, anything to break the looming silence that laid heavy in the air. When she finally spoke, it wasn't what John wanted to hear, but it was a response that suited Madison.

"Actually," he said moving beside Madison and letting his hand graze the fabric as well. "This was not my doing." The moment he withdrew his hand from the tablecloth was the moment two simple white plates appeared with red etching circling the border. On top of both plates was a nicely folded card. He took a quick glance at the one closest to him, and on the card was one word written in gold lettering: Truth. John was curious about what the other card said, but he did not asked Madison. It was between her and the sender. Instead, he folded the card back up and placed it in his coat pocket. "Obviously, I choose this place, but this-" He presented his hand to all of this. "was Cecilia, the seer doing and the proprietor of the villa just beyond the bridge there."
__________

The other folded note in the same shimmering gold as John's, wrote: Be Kind, My Dear.

As the plates appeared, John reached over to grab one of the notes, and she watched as he read it to himself, before looking at the note placed on the plate opposite his. It was quite a peculiar way to start out, especially if it was someone else who prepared things. When she picked up her card, the note piqued her interest, as it was obviously not written by John. As he mentioned Cecilia, she looked across the way, towards the villa, as the though the woman he spoke of would be standing there, smiling at them. Madison said nothing over the matter of Cecilia being a seer, but she had always been skeptical on what some witches and wizards claimed to be (as a mere note was not enough to convince the doubtful history professor).

She wasn't sure about her thoughts on the card either, but all the same she folded it and set it back down on the table before speaking, "How very... generous of her," though it was all quite attuned to Madison's tastes, she wasn't quite prepared to show any appreciation just yet, less John jump to the conclusion that she may actually start to enjoy herself. "How did you come to know a seer?" She asked, genuinely curious enough to ask. There was the possibility that he would only give another vague answer, but she did wonder that, given his promise, he would be more open to her questions.

John watched as she slide the note across the table. It laid peacefully, only shuttering a little bit when on a whim a breeze pass through. Maybe it had all the answers, maybe it had none, but curiosity always blossom when the unknown was involved. He pulled his eyes away from the simple note and back towards the great lake and the villa beyond, taking his place on one of the two empty seats.

For being the dead of night in winter no less, it was oddly warm. Cecilia's doing no less.  He tugged at his blue scarf, untangling it from his neck and letting it coil on his lap for safe keeping. "A peculiar women, she is." One hand, propped up on the armrest, traced the edge of his cheek and jawline as he stared off into the distance, letting the story unravel before his very eyes. "Every summer since I received a letter to go to the most prestigious magic school for witchcraft and wizardry, I had to work. I had to put myself through school: Textbooks, robes, my wand, things like that. Anyways, my last three summers at Hogwarts I worked as a waiter in a muggle restaurant. Once a week, the same time, the same day, Cecilia would come and asked to sit at one of my tables. For three months she came to the dinner, and the next summer after that she appeared, and the next summer after that. I always listen to her stories. At first I thought she was derange old women with alzheimer's, because it was a muggle restaurant after all, but than I came to understand that she was a magical, like me."

He was not aware of what he was doing as his fingers drummed the table in perfect rhythm over and over and over again. "Well the last day of my waiting job, she appeared and offer me my fortune. At the time, I thought it was nonsense. It was sporadic phrases strum together and had no sense or baring, but it stuck with me. We lost touch after that, but a few years ago fate so happenly align on another job I was working on we meet again."

Instead of letting the silence give rise to Madison's insatiable appetite for knowledge and curiosity, he cut her off by stating, "Yes, everything she told me has come to pass, and no I will not repeat what she foretold. That is between me and her."  As his story came to a close, the Appetizer, salad, appeared on both plates. Crystalline glasses and wine submerged in ice also followed along. He took the wine and read outloud, "Tulaberry Wine...never heard of it." With that he popped the quark and poured both Madison and himself a glass. After placing the bottle of wine back into the ice, he picked up his glass and said, "Lets play a game." He let the deep red liqueur swirl around in his glass until it formed its own whirlpool.

She followed his lead, taking her seat shortly after John. She remained silent as she listened to him tell his story, in surprising detail no less, and it seemed her simple question gave a small look into John's childhood during his Hogwarts years. Just a small detail compared to the mound of mystery Madison hoped would be revealed this evening. She glanced down to adjust her tableware every so slightly, and to take her napkin and fold it neatly in her lap, when the appetizer appeared before her. Her gaze lingered over the wine, however, as John poured wine into both glasses. She gave a faint smile as he read the label aloud, amused by the extra bit of proof that Cecilia was a seer. Whether it was truth, or simply a continuation of the claim, Madison was pleased all the same. "She must be very fond of you if she went to all this trouble."

She said very little beyond that, she even refrained from commenting on the wine. She took the glass in hand before looking at John as he swirled his own drink, wondering if it would be too bitter for his tastes, as it was for most. "What sort of game?" She asked him after a time, feeling suspicious at first (believing he would do something so silly as suggest a drinking game), but soon relinquished the thought and simply waited for him to answer, as she lifted her fork off the table and started picking at her salad.

The vortex of wine stopped as suddenly as it began. His attention was once again diverted by a flash of light that cast it blight across the lake. As his eyes skip across the lake, back towards the villa, he noticed another room lite. One that was connected to a large, architectural appealing balcony that oversaw all. John knew exactly what room it was, and half expected Cecilia to emerge with her youthful smile urging him along. "Yes, she does, but I don't know why?" he said diverted in reality and his own thoughts.

Sometimes he felt like a monster, like the beast within was emerging, taking over him. The need to kill frighten him enough to make his hand start to shake with glass in his hand. The deep violet slosh about on the verge of spilling, before John set it down and placed his hands on his lap, holding it still until his nerves settle. His mind kept drifting back to  his bulky hands coiled around Madison brittle neck. Just a moment more...the thought was appalling and made his stomach turn.

He was about to lose his nerve and walk away from the table when Cecilia crept into his mind eye again. Her bony figure, wrapped in a simple, earthy brown dress that skim the floor. Her curly grey hair, harden her features seeing them bundled up into a singular pony tailed, pulled tight in the back. She was nothing but brittle and bones, but she was abnormally strong, as she jabbed John in the ribs with one of her boney figures. He could not help but half smile, reliving that memory as she berated him on another matter altogether, but this applied all the same.

"Right," he said picking up his fork and jabbing the first thing he saw on the plate. It was a beat red radish. He hates radishes. Cecilia knew that, but always pester him to eat more of them. That is how she kept her youthful beauty or so she keeps telling John. Instead of putting it back on the plate, he forced himself to eat it, chewing it quickly so the bitter taste did not linger in his mouth. Once he swallowed, he continue on speaking, "It's called the Truth game. We each take turns asking the other person questions, and the other person has to answer honestly." He pushed aside the other three radishes to the corner of the plate, freeing up the deliciousness underneath.

"Because you went first, I will asked you a personal question." He let the silence enveloped the air as he took a bite of his salad, then another. Instead of asking his question, he picked up his wine glass and took a delicate sip, only enough to quench his thirst. When the anticipation reached an all time high between them, he asked, "Whats your favorite color? and it can't be black."

In the back of her mind, Madison was interested in meeting the old seer, and wondered if she was anything like another seer she knew once: Cecilia would likely be no more convincing than Giselle, but it was plausible that they may have the same air of mystery when speaking of things they couldn't possibly know. If anything, it would explain where John picked up on the trait from. But seer or not, the woman did obviously care for John, as seen by the level of detail gone into the table setting, the particular choice in wine, and even the variety of vegetables in the salad.

Though it wasn't all perfect, she realized once John began explaining this silly truth game, the thought of which gave rise to some anxiety on the aurface of her thoughts: there were many uncomfortable questions she thought he might ask. She took another sip of wine as she considered the possibility. They were on personal questions, and they hadn't even started the main course. But instead of coming out with the question, he let the silence sink in as he took a few bites from his salad and a sip from his wine... the longer this went on, the sharper her anticipating gaze became. Finally, he asked her what her favorite color was.

She stared at him, stunned that it had been so simple, such an easy thing to answer. Perhaps John did not want to use this date as a means to torment her further after all, though she wasn't sure why he would go to through the trouble, but nonetheless, the tension in her muscles lessened, and she was starting to believe she could actually relax. Taking another sip of wine, she spent a moment considering her answer, though not nearly as long as he'd taken to ask the question. "Blue," she replied. It was a fair answer, as Madison was frequently surrounded by blue banners and decorations whenever she was in her office at Hogwarts. If she had a favorite color, blue would be the most likely.

Now that it was her turn to ask a question, she was somewhat reluctant to do so. She didn't want to spoil her luck and ask an uncomfortable question, which would result in John offering one in return, but on the other hand, coming up with simply a conversational inquiry proved difficult for her. Madison took a bite of her salad as she thought it over for some time, but finally, she came up with a happy medium, "Are you still investigating Mr. Harrison?" Madison had ceased her involvement in the case after their last incident for obvious reasons, but she was also hopeful that he would have kept himself busy during the last few weeks. And if he had uncovered anything important, she wanted to know about it.

"Blue, huh?" he said to himself. At first, John thought of a harsh color blue, like a bitter winter blue, almost stark white. It fitted nicely to her cold, stern demeanor, but slowly the image of blue warmed. It grew in richness in his mind's eye until it turn into twilight blue. It sparkled like a sky tapestry holding up every star in all the heavens. Once again, his heart skipped a beat than went a mile a minute as he ponder the mystic of Madison. These unmistakable feelings were more debilitating than him speaking the truth about his past and who he really is.

Even though he seemed calm on the surface, giving Madison a courteous smile as they both slowly eat their entree, he was anything but. "Madison," he said seeing her eased back into her seat, watching some of the tension dissolved away. "Be honest. What do you truly want to asked? If you is really want to know about Mr. Harrison than I will oblige your request." He finally put his fork down, his salad half eaten.

At first, John seemed to be staring off into space, as though the color blue was really all that important. As the silence settled amongst them, Madison gently swirled the wine in her glass and looked out at the lake. She waited patiently for him to escape his own thoughts. It wasn't long before he spoke again, addressing her by name. She returned her gaze to John, whilst considering a response.

"Mr. Harrison would be a start," She replied sharply, before taking another drink, "but you did say one question at a time." She set down her glass and folded her hands together pointedly.

"As you wish," he said after dabbing his face with a napkin, as if that was the start of coming clean. "A few days ago, Mr. Harrison's body washed up near London. The coroner report, a muggle medical physician who investigates the desist, stated no outward signs of trauma. The label his death as an accidental drowning, but no water was found in his lungs. In my honest opinion he died shortly after he was captured, either by the men he was being chased by or by the ministry of magic he used to work for. They seemed not too interested in investigating in suspicious circumstances of Mr. Harrison wounding up dead on their doorstep, figuratively speaking of course. All of this is in the report, I sent to the order." Every word he choose was carefully selected, leaving the doors, which he personally selected for Madison to walk on through, and those he dare not reveal until he absolutely have too.

Now it was his turn. "What was your happiest memory as a child?"

While John described what had happened to Mr. Harrison, it was obvious by the look in her eyes that the gears were turning as she pictured the state of the poor, deceased man. "I suppose it's all too easy to cast a killing curse, and leave no trace for the muggles to come across." At this point, she didn't seem to be speaking to John directly, but rather working it out verbally so that it made sense to her, "And if he had no form of muggle identification on him, and there was no other way for them to uncover his identity, they would not have a reason to investigate. The muggle police cannot waste resources on a John Doe, after all." She mulled it over a bit, before looking up at him once more and asking, "Do you know if his wand was found on his corpse? Wait, no, that's not my next question."

As John asked his question, Madison instinctively took another drink, and by now was already starting to feel the alcohol's hold on her. And because continuing this truth game was in Madison's best interest, she forfeited an answer. This one, of course, was simple enough to answer, in fact, it was the memory she used when first learning the patronus charm.

She took a short breath before replying, "I remember overhearing my mother and Transfiguration Professor  discussing my progression in his class. He was praising me, and my mother said something- I can't remember what exactly- and then she smiled... in a proud, sort of way." She glanced down at her wine with a hint of a smile, but it was gone as quick as it came, "My mother was not the most expressive woman, so it is a memory that remains firmly in my mind."

-----

She could almost recall everything about that night. It was in the summer, between her fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts. Her mother had been close friends with the professor and had invited him over for dinner one evening with the family. Most of it was rather awkward for Madison, meeting her  teacher outside the context of school, but aside from the fact, it was a fun evening, especially when Professor Rothley transfigured the centerpiece on the table into a raven. Her father had been in the kitchen at the time of course, otherwise he would likely have had a real fright. Madison at that point, was taking empty plates away, and while she was headed back into the dining room, she heard her name mentioned in conversation.

"You must be quite proud of her Emalee. For Madison to be so young and to have such a firm grasp on transfiguration already!" The professor paused to take a drink, "If she practiced enough, I'm sure she could be ready for her N.E.W.T.s before the end of her sixth year."

"I couldn't ask for a better daughter." And as her mother Emalee smiled, young Madison smiled in turn.

-----

It took some time for Madison to realize that she was straying off in her own thoughts, and when she looked at John, she couldn't be sure how long she had been silent, but now she could consider her next question. The more she stared at him, the more mysteriously vague he became. She knew so little of him, and it was only now, when he possessed secrets, that she felt the need to know more. She squinted her eyes slightly, thinking about the detailed way John described Mr. Harrison's death, and it was then that she pushed her glass towards John so he could refill it. After that, she asked, "What was your profession before you joined the Order?"

The mystery of the Mr. Harrison's suspicious circumstances only deepen as they both ponder the events leading up to his death and what came after the fact. It seems the more they dig, the less they knew about what was going on, why was the man killed and who was pulling the strings. It was infuriating sometimes not having the full weight of Auror headquarters at his disposal. Ferreting out information was something John excelled at, especially under the red tape bureaucracy. Now that he had more liberties and freedom than the scope of government allowed, he had less resources at his disposal.

He seemed to not fret over it for very long as he lean forward, enthralled by Madison's story. Her face seemed to light up as she relived her most happiest memories. She spoke softly, even the leaves were louder rustling in the breeze. Her hair, which was raven black to begin with, captured the moonbeams by the candle light. John could almost see a smile creeping in at the corners of her lips as she sat in silence, playing the scene in her mind. This was the side of her john wanted to see, that John liked to see, even though he never once saw it before. It was almost well worth the price of revealing himself to her...almost.

John knew what was going on in Madison's head even as she lifted up her empty glass to be refilled. While John poured the glass, to distract her, he answered her initial question. "No. His wand wasn't found on his person. Either it got washed away by the river or someone collected it from his cold dead hands. It wouldn't be the first time that has happen." The ploy did not work. The question he was dreading the most came to past. She gaze him intently with those piercing eyes, only figments of her softer side was distant memories as she waited for answers. John sighed heavily as if the weight of the world was on his shoulder, before answering. "I did not lie to you, when I said I am a writer of sorts, but you are right I haven't been completely honest with you either...I am an ex-Auror. I worked for the Ministry of Magic."

His answer seemed to get caught in his throat, and for good reason. If there was one thing that he should have learned by now, it is that she was very adamant about even the mention of the Ministry, as she expected most of the other veteran Order members to be as well. She glanced down at her wine glass, quietly thinking over his answer. It certainly pieced everything together, why he played himself off as a squib when he joined the Order, and being an ex-auror, it made sense why he had a talent for investigations such as Mr. Harrison's disappearance. He must have figured out what happened to the once courageous Order of the Phoenix, else he would have been more open about lending his experience to their efforts. But how did he know before becoming a member? Imagining him there at the Ministry the day the Order members were all rounded up like livestock chilled Madison to the very core. It was all too easy to imagine John among the other aurors, as her enemy no less.

But she recalled on one occasion John asked her about the event at the Ministry. He hadn't known about any of it- still didn't, considering at the time Madison had changed the subject immediately, making it clear that the Ministry was not something she would ever talk about. The fact that he even asked proved that he had not been involved, and it put her mind at ease. After taking another sip of wine, she stared out at the lake. The black water rippled under the moonlight, and the faintest breeze carried along a calming fragrance that she could not quite place. She took in a deep breath, and with their little question game forgotten, she asked, "And why did you join the Order?" Just like that she had moved on, changing the subject despite having more questions about his time as an auror. She didn't wanted to avoid talking about anything relating to the Ministry, if she could help it- at least for now.

He waited with bated breath. His body was tense with anticipation. His heart was beating out of his chest, just waiting for Madison to react to the news that he was once apart of the Ministry, on top of that, an auror none the less. John tried to read the situation, knowing full well that the situation could turn ugly faster than a lightning strike, but he sat their in silence waiting for Maddy to say something or turn on him.

Finally, when he couldn't wait any longer and the tension was at an all time high, Madison asked him why he join the Order of the Phoenix. She did not accuse him of being a fiend or a traitor to the cause of betterment of wizard kind. It was a relief, but also he question her motives. Was that it? Was that all she was going to asked?

It seem so unlike Madison not to question every little detail about his history into being an Auror, as if she too was hiding a deep dark secret, something sinister she did not want him to pry. Well, he wasn't in the mood to ferret out her secrets. He likes a bit of mystery and intrigue. And without a doubt, Madison was full of both.

"Hm? Why I join the Order, you say?" To be honest, if he came out and just said that he was a mutant freak, experimented on by the Ministry, or that he was the cause of so many deaths to make him what he is now, it would spoil the evening, maybe even the fragile resemblance of friendship they had now. No, this burden was his to bare and his to bare alone.

"Well if you must know," he said with a sly devilish grin. "I join the Order to meet a pretty girl." He could not help but chuckle as he rubbed his cheek. "That was 2 questions, and a bonus third, guess its time to reveal the penalty of breaking the rules." He was back to his old, juvenile self again as he pondered what penalty he should dish out.

Madison was surprised by his sudden revert back to humor, but she rolled her eyes and couldn't retract the small hint of a smile. It was somewhat irritating, for him to make light of the situation which she took so seriously.

Though, as he pointed out, she had asked a few too many questions according to his game, so she supposed he could childishly argue that those extra questions didn't count, so the rules didn't apply. She did wonder what was so difficult about telling her the reason for him joining the Order. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully. Something must have happened to make him want to quit as an auror, perhaps to settle down from all the excitement of chasing rogue wizards and the like. But if that were true, he wouldn't have joined the Order. The more likely case would have to be that he found out about the horrendous things the Ministry was doing in secret.

Madison folded one arm over the other uncomfortably, as her train of thought hit some dangerous waters. If that was what happened, she wasn't sure she was prepared to ask about it. Even now, after all this time, she felt as though the shadow of the Ministry loomed over her, ready to snatch her back up if she so much as mentioned the Department of Mysteries. She suddenly felt cold, but then realized that John was looking at her, as there had been a break in the conversation. She took another sip of wine before returning her full attention to him.

"Alright, what is this penalty?" If she wanted to learn more about his mysterious past, it seemed she would have to go along with his game. So that's exactly what she was going to do, for now. Though she couldn't help but feel frustrated with John's mischievous expression and the sudden change of subject.

He took the napkin off his lap and placed it on the table cloth. A mischievous glim was in his eye, as he pushed his chair back, in order to get to his feet. He never took his eyes off Madison as he walked around the round table to her side. Mild curiosity and weary anticipation plagued Madison’s face, as she too was watching John, like he was a newly found manuscript with sinister cursed placed upon it. It was tempting to read, but was it worth the price?

Madison was strong in her resolve to not let her guard down, John had to give her that. That was probably one of the reason why he liked her so much. John was the kitten trying to unravel the ball of yawn that was Madison. She fascinated him beyond words. That is why he teased her so, and pushed her buttons so much. He wanted to see her softer side. Her gentle side.

He held his hand out to her. “One dance.”

John's gaze was unnerving as he stood from his chair and walked over to her end of the table, and she couldn't look away from the fiery embers in his eyes as they glowed in the candlelight. She felt frozen where she sat as John stopped before her, and only when he held out his hand did she seem to snap out of it. A few more moments, and she regained her composure. With a deep breath, she repeated, "A dance... that's what you want?" The thought puzzled her, likely because she had been so focused on the answers she hoped to gain from him. She had thought this 'date' had simply been another one of John's tactics to further tease and torment her, as was his typical behavior before, well, all of this spiraled into chaos. Despite much of John's behavior having been an act, what with pretending to be squib, and just overall being unhelpful, his mischievous streak was genuine.

The candles, the moonlight reflecting off the lake's surface, and the food and wine, if John wasn't careful, Madison might have to start taking his flirting seriously. Obviously with the night he prepared it should have been clear to Madison long before now, but having John take an interest in her- hell, for anyone to take an interest in her- it just seemed so unlikely. She couldn't see why. But she could see now, beyond her blind need for answers, that his focus was entirely different from hers since this evening began.

Madison drew a long breath as her hand slipped away from her glass on the table, and then she took his, "Very well." She said, sounded almost defeated. She couldn't recall ever enjoying a dance, or having to be so close to another person. It had always been something she learned for fancy gatherings to, well, keep up appearances, such as the Charity Ball Hogwarts students had attended. She could still remember that snake of an Auror goading her into a dance, only to mock her with the memory of her time locked away in some secret cell deep within the Ministry. As she rose to her feet, and John pulled her close, however, it felt different. Of course rather than tormenting her with her haunting past, instead it was his own past, one she frustratingly knew little about. But more than that, she didn't feel disgusted as he placed a hand on her waist, but what still outside of her comfort zone as she would rather keep her distance and keep those cold walls up. Plus given their last embarrassing encounter, Madison couldn't help but look off, over his shoulder rather than look him in the eye when they were so close. The silence became stifling as she waited for John to lead into the first step of the dance.