heading out (open)

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Lincoln Walker was not a morning person. Even as a student, he didn’t like the early mornings, but that was probably because he was always up late at night doing something or another. He wasn’t a party animal, like some he knew, but he wasn’t a goody two shoes either. He got up though, because he had to, and does still now that he is out of school and working a traditional nine to five job. He never thought he’d have one of those, sure he’d always be a Quidditch player until he was no longer fit to play, but that idea had been stripped of him when he lost his vision in one of his eyes, which killed his chances of really making it beyond what he had already accomplished.

Link enjoyed his job with the Ministry though. He still got to be around Quidditch, which is the only reason why he does the job in the first place. He could have easily gotten a job working for the British and Irish Quidditch Headquarters, but he took the job in the broader Magical Games and Sports department. He got to do a lot that he had done before, except for physically play the game he loved so much, but that also gave him more time to hang with his mates and not be away from his family for so long. He guessed there were pluses and minuses to playing Quidditch. He is just glad that he’s been able to understand and experience both sides of it.

He had been at work for a few hours now and was told that he could go to lunch if he wanted. He saw that it was only half past twelve and he nodded to his boss and got up from his desk. He grabbed his coat, not wanting to leave it and freeze in the late March weather, and left the office. He took the lift to the Atrium and then began to make his way towards one of the many grates so that he could floo to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. There were many places he could go, but there seemed like the easiest of places to go to. He had only just past the large fountain that was in the middle of the Atrium when he knocked into someone. “I am so sorry,” he said as he saw papers flying every which way.

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Rose had just finished a really great story, at least she thought so, and was headed to the Daily Prophet to try and get it published. It was very rare that she had chances to go to the ministry and she was lucky enough to make time this week for the trip. She had scheduled to be excused from a day of classes to pursue this task. Since she was a sixth year, her teachers were pretty supportive of her career endeavors. Her Father, Ronald Weasley, picked her up in Hogsmede and brought her here.

Barely a word was spoken on the way. Ever since his best friend, Harry Potter, had been killed Ron didn't say much. Rose was already shy and not great at starting conversation. The trip wasn't uncomfortable per say, just a little sad. Father and daughter not being able to find words. Rose couldn't comfort him, and he didn't know how to be comforted.

When they arrived at the ministry they hugged goodbye and went separate ways, Ron was going to meet her in about an hour to take her home to see her mum before heading back to school. She was innocently walking along, armful of her story, backing, grounds, warrants, statistics, interviews etc. when a man ran into her.

"What in the he-" Rose bent down to pick up her papers that had been flung about. She glared up at him and then her furrowed brow disappeared, but she still frowned. "In a hurry, are we Sir?" She didn't mean to come off so harsh, but Rose had a hard time controlling her temper.