Justice in the life and conduct of the State is possible

[justin_sheep]

Category: Pink Sheep RPG

Dobson smirked as he dropped the file on Finch-Fletchley's desk, taking quiet delight in creating a slight disarray in the neat orderly piles. It wasn't that he had it in for the senior Auror, except well, that he did. Pillock had reported him to Shaklebolt for pulling a triple. The man was insufferable. Even his own partner couldn't stand him, if the rumors floating around the office held true. That's why Finch-Fletchley got himself transferred over to cold cases and desk work. Boring as shite if you asked him, but at least he didn't have to do as much paperwork.

"Got a live one for you, Finch-Fletchley."



Justin looked up, hands just itching to put the stacks of files right back into their places. Everything was in it's place. He was organized. He had a system. "I'm afraid you have the wrong desk, Dobson. Perhaps you need to speak to Shacklebolt to see where this is best assigned?"

Dobson smirked. "Nah, this one's just special for you. Old perp of yours, Corwin Macnair, got himself offed last night. Valentine's day. Sort of fitting no? Hate to meet the bird he pissed off."

Biting the inside of his cheek, the senior Auror opened the file and began to glance at its contents, trying to block out the others' chattering. Since starting his new position in January he was starting to understand the value of silence more and more. "No, I suppose not," he supposed, flipping through the crime scene photos.

Macnair looked like he had gotten himself disemboweled if his uncle's more graphic history books showed the procedure correctly. Glad he hadn't had much time to do anything but take his morning tea, Justin took in the medical examiner's report. Little to no magical evidence could be found, which made the case all the more challenging, but not impossible.

Dobson moved towards the door, pausing in the doorway. He had taken one look at the photos on his way over to the office and had found them a bit too gory for his own liking. He was glad the case was being handed off. "That's all Finch-Fletchley. Oh. And McDonald's going to want to see you."

The blonde waited until Dobson was gone before pinching the bridge of his nose and counting to ten. Of course Natalie wanted to see him. It had been their case, one of their last. Something open and shut. Victim came in. Perpetrator collected at crime scene. Evidence taken. Statements taken under Veritaserum. Confession. Justin didn't want to know how Macnair had gotten himself released on bail. The man was a former Death Eater, for Merlin's sakes. Blood must have run deep in some circles. Who knows, if he had been in Azkaban, Macnair might still be alive today.

Taking a last sip of his lukewarm tea, Justin stood, straightening out his clothes. Folder in hand, he made his way over to Natalie's office and knocked, waiting permission to enter.

Cursing the fact that she had yet to make up her mind about transferring to MI-6, Natalie said irritably, "It's open."

Justin stepped through the door, holding up the folder almost as if it was a shield to protect him. "Macnair's dead."

"I noticed," she replied, holding up one of the gorier pictures from the crime scene for her former partner's benefit.

"Person did a number on him," Justin said dryly. "It's an almost perfect textbook example of disembowlment with a side of drawn and quarter. All that's missing is the historically accurate clothing." He summoned the case file of Macnair's assault charge. It had been open and shut, but there may be a few leads. If there was something he learned from working the cold cases was that nothing should be overlooked.

Natalie sighed and took a sip of her coffee. "First things first: does Bulstrode have an alibi for that night?" She might have been hungover, but there was something about the other woman that didn't sit well with her.

"I've only just gotten the case file now. I wouldn't know." He began to flip through. "Do you have the contact information or do we have to go through her barrister?"

Shuffling through some papers, Natalie hunted through loose pieces of parchment until she procured the desired one. "Here," she said, handing it to him.

He looked down at it. Her address was listed as a 'Dunmore Estates'. That could mean many a thing, of course, but this was pureblood society. Estates meant estate. This could only mean one thing, a pain in his arse. "Fantastic," he murmured, looking at the additional information provided. "Macnair was killed yesterday?"

"At five o'clock a.m.," she answered, glancing down at her notes.

"Look at her birthday," he passed his sheet over to her so she could take a look. "Perhaps Bulstrode made herself a birthday present?"

One fine blonde brow rose above a dark brown eye. "Looks that way," she commented, "or someone did it for her."

"Brother?" She had several. "One of whom was a Death Eater." So was Macnair of course, but they could posit theory after they collected facts.

"Maybe. Former lover? Known associates?"

"She has a Russian friend, if I remember rightly." Justin thought back to the case in late July. "Same barrister. She's also been known to have lunch with Pansy Parkinson about once a month."

Natalie's eyes darted up from her notes to Justin. She knew his personal theories on Alexander Mason's death, that Parkinson had had something to do with it. As it had been a closed case, though, he'd never fully delved into his suspicions. "If," she stressed the word, "this was Parkinson... it doesn't match past suspicions."

"No, no it doesn't," Justin agreed. At times, in his spare moments, the few that there were, he had been tempted to reopen Alexander's case, but things tended to be very clear from above. The case was closed. "She's just on the list of past associates. As is a Dimitri Mikahailov. Do you think it would be prudent to request Bulstrode's file from Archives to get a more complete list?"

She nodded, fingers flicking through the case file quickly as sharp eyes took in the information there. "This looks like the work of a jealous lover," she said, "like the Shea case, just...messier."

He hummed his agreement as he sent the request off. "We can only hope it's no where near as bad bureaucratically." The assailant had been a muggle and many of their forensics team had no idea what to do with bullets and casings.

"I doubt a Muggle would want to off Corwin Macnair, nor do I think Millicent Bulstrode would fuck a Muggle." Of course, if that was all she could get... no, Pureblood pride ran too deep. Her nose crinkled at the very idea.

As the requested file slapped into Justin's hand, he shook his head. He'd rather not think of former classmates' sex lives if possible and only then if it was absolutely required. Leaning against a bit of spare wall, he began to look through it. There was noting really remarkable in it, surprisingly. Though, in the end, he didn't even know what he expected. Then something caught his eye. "Huh. Look at that," Justin passed the piece of parchment over, "looks like she's become one of us. She's down in the Department of Mysteries."

That posed a whole new set of possible barriers, but at least they wouldn't have to go out into the winter cold to track her down.

The mention of the DOM made Natalie groan. "Oh goody," she said sarcastically. Trying to get anything out of anyone in the Department of Mysteries was a bloody nightmare.

"My thoughts exactly." Justin snorted. "But at least we'll be warm?"

"Until we find the frigid bitch," the blonde muttered.

Justin kept quiet and instead focused his attention and reviewing any material he thought might be pertinant. Refiling the papers, he looked up. "Well, do you wanna try anyway? Something might turn up." Not that he was actually looking forward to going to Level Nine. Things were always filled with red tape.

"We sorta have to. She's our main suspect," Natalie quipped. She wasn't looking forward to talking to Bulstrode again; people like her triggered Natalie's punch reflex.

"Right." Justin went to the office door and held it open for her. "After you."

Rising from her chair, Natalie's heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she swept past Justin, pausing only to throw up the wards on her office before the pair was off, heading towards the lifts.

"Miss me, Finchy?" she asked, lips twitching when she heard him catch up to her rapid strides down the hall.

"Of course," he threw out, wondering if Natalie was good practice for when Bridget started walking. Not that he expected the infant to do so anytime soon, but still, the thought was in the back of his mind.

She didn't believe him, but he was too polite to let his real thoughts show. Poncy aristocrat; never let anyone in. "Right," she said, stopping in front of the lifts as she hit the button which led downwards to the bowels of the Ministry.

He had missed her, but there was nothing he could say that would make her think otherwise, so he left well enough along. Detante was better than any war, cold or other wise. As the doors opened, Justin was the first to exit the lift. Horrible things they were, though it wasn't as bad as it was in the morning or evening with everybody crammed in. He usually took the stairs then.

Smiling at the receptionist, he pulled out his badge. "Aurors MacDonald and Finch-Fletchley to see Millicent Bulstrode."

Joan looked up, happy at least to see this one at least had the forethought to have identification ready. "If you'll wait one moment please." It took her a moment to look up the name, it wasn't one she recognized before sending an alert to the coordinator for experimental potions. "If you'll take a seat please." The redhead gestured to the set of chairs and couches off to the side. "Unspeakable Bulstrode will be with you as soon as possible."

"Bloody hell, are they taking everyone these days?" Natalie grouched, snapping her badge shut as she moved over to take a seat.

"She doesn't strike me as the type to be doing fieldwork." Justin sat, wishing he had thought to bring some paperwork as they waited. There was no telling how long they'd be kept.

Natalie raised a brow. "Really? You think?" she quipped sarcastically, though the idea of Bulstrode running down a suspect made her snicker.

Justin raised an eyebrow. "You know," he drawled, "there are some that believe the same about me." Then again, he had always used such disbelief to his advantage. He was dedicated to his job. And good at it too.

"Yes, but I know better about you. Besides, you're the yin to my yang." She didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but work had felt off without Finchy hovering about, working with her. His absence was part of the reason- she had yet to determine how large that part was, though- that she was seriously considering leaving the MLE for a bit.

Yes, but did you then? Still, Justin had to smile at that. Perhaps she didn't hate him as much as he had previously thought.

Millicent hurried down the halls of her Department. Still, after nearly two months of working in this godforsaken place, she still got lost too easily. For someone who had mastered the switching staircases at Hogwarts within the first week, this was especially troubling.

The missive had said that somebody was out to see her. Somebody, it didn't say who, and even behind the icy Slytherin exterior, she felt her throat constrict, desperately hoping it was not one of her brothers. She had left the first moment her research would allow, not even bothering to remove her potions robe.

When she caught sight of the two Aurors from that summer, she slowed. Finch-Fletchley, the Muggleborn Hufflepuff, and the other one. "How can I help you?" she asked, keeping her tone even, controlled. If this had to do with Corwin Macnair, they could go through her barrister. That's what she kept him on retainer for, wasn't it?

"Miss Bulstrode," Natalie said evenly as she rose. On heels, she had a good five inches of height on the other woman, something that brought her immense satisfaction. It wasn't just this woman, though; Natalie just liked being tall, period. "We need to ask you a few questions."

Fucking Macnair. She couldn't think of any reason why the aurors would need to contact her, these ones especially. Unless it was about Calvin, but Dent seemed to have his fingers all over that one. "Fine. May I ask what this is about?"

Justin glanced at Natalie. "Corwin Macnair, Miss Bulstrode. He was killed yesterday morning."

Well, that had been unexpected, though not unwelcome, news. "And you think I had something to do with it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Natalie answered bluntly. She didn't have time to tiptoe around the other woman's feelings. She had a murder to solve. "Where were you yesterday morning around five o'clock?"

Millicent blinked as the news washed over her. She didn't know what to feel. A sense of relief, of course, that he would never bother her again. Another part of her was angry. How dare he escape guaranteed Azkaban sentence? Death was usually preferred to the dementors. "Asleep. Like any normal person."

"Is there anyone who can verify that?"

"If that's your way of asking if there was anybody in my bed, then the answer is no. I live alone on my family's property. But my brother holds the wards. He would have known if I had left Dunmore." The fact that she was a suspect was unsurprising. Millicent resisted the urge to bite her nails. She had been broken of that habit when she was five.

Natalie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "I could care less if there was anyone in your bed, but if no one can verify that you were alone besides your brother..." and if this was a family affair, her brother could very easily cover for Miss Bulstrode's little birthday indulgence.

"No. No one." A thought crossed the Slytherin's mind. "How did he die?"

Justin knew he was being quiet, but he was more focused on Bulstrode's reactions than anything else. There seemed to be genuine surprise over Macnair's death, but that could be faked. Especially if you were one who learned how to hide your emotions early. The fact that there was a small part of him that didn't want Millicent Bulstrode to be guilty was also concerning. As soon as they were done with this interview he needed to tell Natalie. She needed to look at any angles he might miss or deliberately ignore.

"He was dismembered," Natalie said, keen brown eyes watching for her reaction.

Millicent's nose wrinkled in distaste. For all the fact she grew up on a working half-farm to supply potions ingredients, she had never cared for the slaughter of animals. To kill a living thing was... difficult to do in person. "And how do you suppose I would have done it?" she asked. "He had several inches on me and brute strength."

"Yet you've proved in the past that you're the better with a wand." Playing the 'damsel in distress' card was not going to work with Natalie. She was walking proof that size didn't matter; she could easily overpower half the male Aurors in the department.

"And hacking up a body takes too long unless you're an expert butcher," Millicent countered. "I'm a potions mistress. If I were to kill someone I would use what I know." Which would of course, be poison. Then again, if she had poisoned the bastard it certainly wouldn't have been detectable by any of them. And she would have made sure she had an airtight alibi.

Justin raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't exactly exongerate you, Miss Bulstrode."

Millicent glared. "Shall I take Veritaserum for you then?" It was just like the whispers in the halls, even though she was unmarked her hands were still stained in blood she did not shed.

"Yeah, you probably should," Natalie shot back, returning Millicent's glare with one of her own. "Since you have no one who can vouch for your whereabouts."

Millicent turned around to the receptionist behind the desk who was doing a very poor job of pretending that wasn't eavesdropping and hanging onto every word. "You can tell anyone who's looking for me I'm with the Aurors." She took off her potions robe and banished it back to her workroom. It looked like she wouldn't be able to return to her research anytime soon. If Dent had complaints he could just take it up with the Aurors. She wasn't going to fucking Azkaban unless she did something to deserve it.

Natalie pulled Justin aside while the other woman was occupied with the receptionist. "Interrogation room two. I'll get the Veritaserum."

As Millicent was lead into the interrogation room, she tried to resist rolling her eyes. "Well this is familiar," she murmured to herself.

Justin pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. "It shouldn't be more than a moment," he said before retreating to the wall to wait.

The woman didn't bother to look at him as she sat down. She was confident in her own innocence.

A few moments later, Natalie appeared in the interrogation room, the vial of clear potion in hand. "Before we begin, you have the right to your barrister. Do you want him present when we administer the potion?" she asked as she shut the door behind her.

Millicent pursed her lips. "As long as the questioning remains in the purview of Macnair's death only, I should have no need for a barrister." She glanced directly at the female Auror. It wasn't that she thought the perfectly law abiding official would weasel any non-related information out of her, but better safe than sorry. "Any work that I do may be considered classified."

"I'm well aware of the rules and regulations surrounding the Department of Mysteries, Miss Bulstrode," Natalie said icily. Probably more aware of them than you are. "If you feel him to be more competent, my partner can administer the questions." Her hand was practically itching, she wanted to hit something- or someone- so bad.

The brunette waved her hand. "I volunteered for this, did I not? Give me the vial."

Natalie set the vial down on the table in front of the hefty woman a bit harder than necessary, but she had to do something to air her ire out without resorting to physical violence. "Cheers," she said in a clipped tone.

Millicent broke the seal and tossed the liquid back like it was a shot of vodka. "You had questions? I didn't kill Corwin Macnair."

Nice, but the potion didn't set in that quickly. Natalie waited for the woman's eyes to take on that certain sheen to them until she was sure it was in effect. "Miss Bulstrode, do you understand why you're here?"

"Do you want the realistic one or political?" Try as she might, she'd never lose the image she had built in school. Her biggest folly and misstep. She'd always be branded one of those Slytherins.

"Both." If one reason turned out to be a dead end, then maybe there would be leads at the other end of the spectrum.

Millicent's lip curled. "Realistic. I've had a known history of confrontation with the bastard that ended with him getting arrested for sexual assault and attempted rape. Political: I'm one of the pureblooded Slytherins from the wrong year. I make a convenient scapegoat. It would be easier to send us all to the dementors. After all, someone's blood is on our hands."

"Your brother is also an exonerated Death Eater." Scapegoat her arse; Natalie couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Politics aside, you have motive. Where were you yesterday morning at five o'clock?"

"In bed and asleep. I didn't wake up until seven to go work my horse." That was her normal routine, well, less so now that she worked at the Ministry full time.

Fuck. Natalie glanced at Justin, but his face betrayed nothing. Dammit. "If you would please list all your former lovers, staring from Hogwarts until the present," she said, procuring a quill and a piece of parchment and sliding it across the table. "As well as any other friends and acquaintances you spend any amount of time with."

Grimacing, Millicent scrawled out Vincent's name as well as Dimitri's and the other intermittent lovers she had taken throughout the years. "Dimitri in St. Petersburg. He couldn't make it to England for my birthday." And she couldn't make it to Russia. Under a different heading she included names such as Pansy Parkinson and Dunmore's employees. "There are, of course, other members of the Department of Mysteries."

"Their names aren't classified."

Millicent wrote them down as well. "Is that all?" she asked. She did not kill him nor did she know who did. She was half torn with wanting to buy the person a drink and hexing their spine out of their back.

"One more thing. Do you have any idea who could have killed Mr. Macnair?"

"Could or would?" To her mind, that was a very important distinction.

"Let's focus on the could, Miss Bulstrode. Let us figure out the would," Justin spoke up from his spot against the wall.

"Could would be my by eldest brother Dominic, Dimitri, or Vincent Crabbe." She blinked. "Though none of them have reason to. None know about our previous altercation."

"We'll take that into consideration," Natalie said. "I don't have any more questions, unless..." she glanced over at Justin, raising one brow at him.

He gave a slight shoulder shrug. There was nothing more he could add at this time. "We'll keep in touch, Miss Bulstrode. Thank you for your time and knowledge."

"As if I had a choice." Standing, Millicent smoothed her clothes. All she wanted to do now was escape to her lab until the damn potion was out of her system.

You really didn't, so shut the fuck up already. With a wave of her wand, Natalie opened the door for the other woman. "Yes, I'm terribly sorry the pursuit of justice has interfered with your day," she drawled sarcastically.

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "I'm happy the bastard's dead, do not mistake the thought that I relish being in a prison cell, gilded though it may be." Realizing she spoke too close to her heart, Millicent stiffed and brushed past Justin. To her lab she'd go, stewing and waiting until it was feasible to return home to Dunmore.

Natalie waited until the other woman was out of hearing range before she spoke again. "A pleasure, as always."

"Well, that went." Justin said after a moment. Time would tell exactly how it all played out. "She could have paid someone to kill Macnair, though my instincts tell me it's unlikely." But his instinct wouldn't bring a conviction.

"Or this could be someone's idea of a sick birthday present," she said. "She's not sorry he's dead, though I can't fault her on that."

"True." Justin couldn't help but think the world was a better place without Corwin Macnair occupying it, but then again, they had bigger things to worry about. Like the person who murdered the man in such a gruesome fashion.

Keen brown eyes glanced over the names that Millicent had provided, stopping to linger on one. "Vincent Crabbe... why does that name sound familiar?"

"Slytherin in my year," Justin supplied helpfully. "Dumb as an ox. Usually rides the lifts during the day. Doesn't speak much." Chalk up another reason why the Hufflepuff chose the stairs.

"Ah. Vapid eyes. I've seen him."

"Ah, watch for him." Justin steepled his fingers. "I've heard from friends that he was one of the Carrows' pets."

Natalie glanced over at him, her face unreadable. "Then I'll make sure I'm armed when we talk to him," she said, eyes dropping to the knife that was holstered at her waist, under the safety of a Disfigurement charm. He knew she never went anywhere unarmed.

He followed her gaze. He was glad for her wand and the knife, but that didn't guarentee a thing. He had never tussled with Crabbe and Goyle personally during his time at Hogwarts, thank Merlin, and he didn't want a trend now.

"So... what do you think?"

"I think there's more to this than we know. Or that we'll ever know." They were playing with fire, touching the old pureblooded families. Though they liked to think they were so different from Muggles, they really weren't. Money, while coming in may different forms, spoke the same language.

She sighed. "So do I. I have a feeling that this one'll get swept under the rug just like Mason."

Justin's eyes darkened. "Then we investigate until we're told not to." Then you just did so when nobody was looking.

"And then we do our own investigating," she finished.

"In not so many words, yes."

Gathering up her papers, Natalie rose from her seat and gave her partner a smirk. "See? Isn't it great to be off of desk duty?" Though she still had lingering doubts about her partner's ability to do his job to the best of his ability, hopefully these past two months had kicked him in the bollocks.

Summary: Justin and Natalie are put on the case of a grizzly murder. Their first suspect? Millicent Bulstrode.