It was later than usual, half past eleven at night, on a Saturday night. Robert had not intended to be here tonight. It had been his plans to be home, but it hadn't gone that way. The new minister, Ms. Audra Prewitt, had wanted to see him that evening, and he wasn't sure why but had gone. He'd come away from the meeting angry and frustrated in a way that he didn't often become. He hadn't wanted to take his dark thoughts home to his family, so he'd come to Hogsmeade, intending to go have perhaps some firewhiskey with Michael. Once he got here, though, he hadn't wanted to do that either, hadn't wanted to burden Michael. So here he was in the little park not far from the main crossroad.
It wasn't much of a park, really, just a little patch of ground with a small playground for children, a fountain, and a few scattered benches. They'd even managed some quaint lighting this year. It was tiny, like Hogsmeade, and at this time of night, he was the only one here. He was glad for the quiet because he'd not had a chance to sleep in three nights straight because of either patients at St. Mungos or Ministry issues that Ms. Prewitt hadn't taken interest in but would have had dire consequences to three Unspeakables if he hadn't stayed to address them. He'd tried to talk to her, and she had simply called him melodramatic. He was infuriated, so this was looking very much like the count of sleepless nights might stretch into four tonight.
He wasn't a man who normally was slowed by his own personal demons, but they were trying to best him tonight. He usually cloaked his emotions well, deliberately leaving few tells even for those who knew him. His family only recognized one thing--cigarettes. He carried them all the time, but if he smoked a pack a year, it must surely have been a bad year. So far tonight, he'd chain smoked two and he was lighting up this third. He was simply walking in the little park, and he figured he was likely to carve some new trails in the grass by daylight.
Prewitt knew nothing about the real cost of war, the real cost of keeping the peace. She had cited to him an impressive number of statistics about past conflicts, particularly from the second war on. It had taken all he had to not put her in her place. She knew numbers, but she hadn't seen war. She hadn't done espionage. She hadn't watched a massacre of friends and family. She hadn't had to bury those she loved. She hadn't ever had to sweat over whether a plan would kill more or less people. She hadn't done any of it. She knew research and what was theoretically supposed to work. Young people who had experienced nothing and believed they knew bloody everything. The arrogance of youth could bring about death and destruction with someone like Prewitt at the wheel. She was old enough to have lived through the Second Wizarding War, but she hadn't been in it when it had actually occurred. Robert was inclined to agree with Michael that she surely must have schmoozed her way to office. So Prewitt was going to be a figurehead, and that was about all. That frustrated him, and his job, in part was apparently to help her continue to look good. That was nauseating at the very least, and it made him feel very alone.
To make matters worse, an Unspeakable had died when she had tried to command espionage movements because she had relied on statistics, something she had coldly called a calculated risk. That Unspeakable had left a wife and two children under age 4. Robert had been vicious and brutal with Prewitt when he'd learned of it. She'd challenged him that if he believed he could do better, then he could have the Unspeakables. He quickly took her up on it and insisted she leave Intelligence matters and national security to him. She had taken him up on it, thinking he was just an arrogant old fool, a jibe that had rolled immediately off Robert's shoulders because he didn't give a damn what she thought of him. He'd instantly sent Michael to extract two other Unspeakables that Robert believed would be the next fatalities if he had not acted, and Michael's efforts had saved at least two lives, but most likely more. And Robert had taken immediate action to make sure the Ministry provided for the lost Unspeakable's wife and children. He'd gone to see the wife in her grief and done what he felt was the Ministry's due diligence to console her and reassure her they would help her and support her.
And so he was here alone, hoping to decompress, and hoping to not allow his old demons and scars to add to his issues, but he was well aware they were just waiting in the wings for their cue to take the stage and steal the spotlight. Robert didn't have energy for them. Michael would surely have been supportive. He always was, and he had walked through chapters of Robert's life that not even Kate knew of. What Kate did know was the exhaustion that was written too clearly on his face, and it went deeper than just the absence of sleep. It was an exhaustion of spirit and mind that had pushed sleep completely away again.
In his frustration, he kicked a perfectly innocent tree. "Damn. Damn her and everyone like her." he muttered.
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