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Working . . .
Feb. 6th, 2009 03:15 pmalthough if I could, I'd be home. Poor Molly came down with the influenza quite suddenly last night. Ginny took to her bed just after her, and Luna looked just as peaky when she showed up for lessons this morning. I'm rather worried about them all, and I wished I could stay home to help, even if I am all thumbs in the sickroom. There was an early morning Floo call, though, about trouble at the Sevenoaks Camp (the Muggle headman there, Charlie Patterson, was knifed to death last night, victim of a stupid drunken brawl he was trying to break up. Great pity; he was a good man. Smashing good violinist, too.) And Warrington has been chuntering on and on about getting the January placement program reports completed and turned in. (Nott has been breathing down his neck because they're fearfully late.) So no use dossing off, I felt obligated to go in.
Fortunately, our neighbor Maisie Diggory took pity on me when I Flooed her in desperation this morning, and came over to look after Molly and the girls (it's certainly not the sort of thing I'd ask of Xeno, particularly knowing the awful stuff he'd probably take it into his head to dose them with). Since getting here I've been working at a steady slog all day; haven't even had a chance to break away for a bit of midday tiffin.
Seems I'm always here late. The department's understaffed, has been for years, due to chronic budget shortfall. The welfare of Muggleborn wizards isn't a particularly high priority for the Ministry, I suppose. Sometimes when I glance over at the clock after hours spent toiling over parchment reports, and I just know Molly's fuming because the dinner's long gone cold, I wonder why I keep staying after Warrington and Jenkins and all the rest have gone home, night after night. But these folders on my desk all represent real people, and I know I'm truly the only one who can help them. So I do hate to let the work slide.
I was in a melancholy mood last night when the young woman who empties the bins came in. I've come to quite look forward to seeing her in the evenings. Nymphadora Tonks, a Hufflepuff, just finished Hogwarts last year. Charming woman, really, bit shy of me at first, but we've had quite a few good chats once I convinced her I really was glad to share a cuppa with her on her breaks. A friendly face can help make the long hours seem not quite so bad.
Fortunately, our neighbor Maisie Diggory took pity on me when I Flooed her in desperation this morning, and came over to look after Molly and the girls (it's certainly not the sort of thing I'd ask of Xeno, particularly knowing the awful stuff he'd probably take it into his head to dose them with). Since getting here I've been working at a steady slog all day; haven't even had a chance to break away for a bit of midday tiffin.
Seems I'm always here late. The department's understaffed, has been for years, due to chronic budget shortfall. The welfare of Muggleborn wizards isn't a particularly high priority for the Ministry, I suppose. Sometimes when I glance over at the clock after hours spent toiling over parchment reports, and I just know Molly's fuming because the dinner's long gone cold, I wonder why I keep staying after Warrington and Jenkins and all the rest have gone home, night after night. But these folders on my desk all represent real people, and I know I'm truly the only one who can help them. So I do hate to let the work slide.
I was in a melancholy mood last night when the young woman who empties the bins came in. I've come to quite look forward to seeing her in the evenings. Nymphadora Tonks, a Hufflepuff, just finished Hogwarts last year. Charming woman, really, bit shy of me at first, but we've had quite a few good chats once I convinced her I really was glad to share a cuppa with her on her breaks. A friendly face can help make the long hours seem not quite so bad.
