Author's Note: This was written for the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition at the HPFC forum. The category was Zeus.

Her office looked out over the atrium, a long, thin window showing the dark wood floor several stories below. From her position, hovering by the slightly dirty glass, she could see tiny dots of varying colours, people rushing about. Amelia Bones returned to her desk and sunk down into her chair. She leant back and dropped her hands over the sides, letting them swing slightly. Flopping back her head, she let out an audible sigh. Then she ran her fingers through the fringe of her short, greying blonde hair. It had been a long day in a very long week in a very long year. As head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, her job was never easy, but today was one of the worst she felt she had ever experienced. It hadn't been a lot of work, not in terms of of hours, but it had been hard, emotionally and physically, and Amelia now wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, to pretend today hadn't happened.

When a silvery lion Patronus had run through the window of her kitchen, Amelia knew it couldn't be good. She had returned home a few hours ago, but the lion had told her, in a deep, gruff voice, that she was required back at the Ministry. What had greeted her there was a mix of confusion and terror; after asking several white faced wizards, all of whom hadn't answered the question, she finally yelled at an intern, who informed her of the fact that You-Know-Who had been spotted in the building. Amelia remembered closing her dark blue eyes and feeling no breath coming through her slightly parted lips. She remembered her thoughts from the last months coming back in a wave of triumph and disappointment. She had put more stock into the recent speeches of Albus Dumbledore than others in her circle had and now they would suffer for their arrogance, some men in particular. She remembered opening her eyes and doing her job, in an almost automated way, no feeling in her voice as she gave instructions to those in her control.

Now she was in her office, her immediate duties over, but instead of feeling like she had finished she felt as if she had only just begun. He was back, there was no way to deny it now. There would be a war, like the last time, and many would die for the right to live. Amelia had seen so many people die for it already; friends, family, loved ones. The thought of losing even more drained her, making her body feel heavy and, yet, so empty. She leant forward in her chair and opened one of the drawers in the large, wooden desk before her. Digging through it, she pulled out a box of cigarettes and a sliver lighter. She stared at them for a while, running her finger over the smooth cardboard, twisting the lighter with the thumb of her other hand. Then, in a spur of the moment decision, she lit the cigarette and took a long, deep breath. Giving a slight cough, she exhaled and the grey smoke pulsed into the clean air.

A knock came from the doorway, where a man had come in. He was tall, with a mane of brown-grey hair and bright yellow eyes. His face was extremely serious, in appearance not just expression, but there was a certain regality and nobility about the way he stood. Amelia motioned for Rufus Scrimgeour to sit down, which he did, limping slightly as he moved towards one of the large chairs by the desk. He came in with great professionalism but slouched down in a similar way to his companion, who smirked. He stared at her.

"I didn't know you smoked," Rufus commented flatly after awhile.

"I haven't," Amelia said, "for nearly twenty years."

"Why start again now?" he asked.

Amelia gazed philosophically at the glowing tip in her hand, watching as the paper burned down and the ash piled up.

"I thought, perhaps," she said, a wistful note in her voice, "that it would fill the void that is currently in my life."

Rufus's expression didn't change, but something flickered playfully in his eyes.

"And did it?" he asked with a teasing sort of cynicism.

"No," Amelia answered honestly, "not in the way that it used to."

Both sorcerers watched the smoke curling around in artistically beautiful shapes. Amelia watched with a certain blankness, her eyes searching for something to occupy them. Rufus watched with an appreciation for the aesthetic, but a disdain for the action; he had never been a smoker.

"Are you even allowed to do that in here?" he said conversationally.

Amelia shrugged and gave a small laugh.

"It's my office."

"Not for long, from what I hear," Rufus said slyly.

Amelia said nothing, but shifted in her seat and raised an eyebrow.

"Fudge has stepped down," Rufus explained, putting an emphasis on the last two words.

"Stepped down?" Amelia said with amusement, "Well, that was quick. And quiet. Though I can't say I'm terribly surprised."

"Or disappointed," she added in a quieter, slightly vindictive voice, as she conjured up an ashtray with her wand.

Rufus smirked at her words, but said, "in his defense, he didn't have any real evidence that You-Know-Who was back."

"Yes," Amelia conceded, "but what evidence did he look for? Whilst I agree that security policy can't be built on the testimony of one man and a boy, given the serious nature of the claims, not to mention the character of those concerned, it should've been investigated further. I know for a fact that Fudge was advised by several senior members of various departments that he should get people looking into it; I was one of them. But he wouldn't sanction it and we shall all be worse off because of it."

"You've never liked him," Rufus said knowingly.

"I don't have time for stupid men," Amelia said in response.

For the first time, Rufus managed a proper smile.

"Then I'll consider it a compliment that I'm still sitting here," he said.

One corner of Amelia's mouth was tempted upwards.

"You should," she said gently.

She took the cigarette and crushed it into the ashtray, leaving the slightly acid smell behind. After twenty years, Amelia could not remember what the drug had done for her to begin with. She straightened up and laced her fingers together, facing the man in her office straight on.

"The point, however," he said, "of that story, was not to highlight his faults, but to point out the gap he leaves behind. We are now a ship without a figurehead."

"Figurehead?" Amelia said with a laugh, "Are we indeed?"

"And it has been said," Rufus continued, "that many are hoping for a strong, pretty, blond figurehead with previous leadership experience."

He tilted his head in a pointed way and Amelia looked incredulous.

"Me?" she scoffed.

Rufus nodded, amused at her surprised.

"Has it never occurred to you?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Amelia admitted, "Just about every career advisor I've been to has suggested it."

"So what's stopped you?"

Amelia thought about this question for a moment. What had stopped her? She'd been in this position for a while now and had had more than a few opportunities to try her luck with the main job.

"I'm too old," she said finally.

Now it was Rufus's turn to look incredulous.

"You're younger than I am," he exclaimed.

Amelia rested her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on the table. She gazed at him in an inquisitive manner.

"I don't even know what your age is," she said, the words hinting at a question.

Rufus smiled and shook his head.

"If you consider yourself to be old," he said, "then you can hardly expect me to own up to you."

"You can't be that old," Amelia mused, "You don't look that old."

The intensity of her stare increased as she slipped further into her thoughts, roused only by a sharp cough from the wizard seated opposite her.

"If you are not going to run," Rufus said, "I was thinking that I might."

Amelia sat up, the reason for his visit suddenly coming to light.

"Oh," she said, in a tone that held more surprise than she had meant to show.

"What?" he inquired.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, "Straight out of the Auror Office. It's certainly ambitious."

"I do realize that the next logical step for me is head of the department," Rufus said, "but as you show no signs of relinquishing that position. I would really appreciate your support in this, Amelia."

The witch nodded slowly, her brow furrowing. The serious expression on her face was soon mirrored on that of the wizard.

"You have misgivings?" he said, not worried, merely slightly annoyed.

"About your competence?" Amelia said, "Not in the slightest. I have no doubt that your leadership style would differ greatly from that of your predecessor."

"But?"

Amelia sighed.

"You can be so cold. So ruthless, even in your current post."

Rufus did speak coldly when he said, "I have only the best interests of this nation at heart."

"It is not the nation I'm worried about," Amelia said with some concern.

Rufus's yellow eyes flashed and he stood up quickly. Giving her a curt nod, he walked towards the door. Amelia felt angry with him, as she watched him go, but mostly angry with herself. Despite this and despite her better judgement, she called out after him.

"Is that all that visit was?" she asked accusingly, "An application for me to pledge my support to your cause?"

Rufus turned his head back to look at her.

"No," his voice was the coldest it had been through out the conversation, "It was a declaration. Of my already pledged support. For you."

And with that he left the office.

His office over looked the atrium, several floors up from it, the window running around most of the wall. Rufus Scrimgeour had been in this room before, but only as a visitor. It seemed bigger, more impressive but also more ominous. Another man was putting things into a bag as Rufus entered. He looked up and gave a small, somewhat bitter smile.

"I'm just getting the last of my things," the man said, "Welcome to your office, Minister." Rufus nodded gravely and said nothing. At the present moment, he was only acting Minister for Magic, having been selected by the Wizengamot to fill the role. The other man, Cornelius Fudge, perhaps needing to fill the silence, continued to talk.

"You're hitting the ground running alright," he said, "I'm off to talk to the Muggle Prime Minister very soon and a note came only a few moments ago saying Pius Thicknese wants to see you."

"Thicknese?" Rufus asked, his voice blank but his mind confused.

"The Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Fudge said in a surprised voice.

The replacement for Amelia. Rufus frowned slightly. Fudge must have guessed what he was thinking.

"Did you go to the funeral?" he asked.

Rufus nodded, a definite sadness in his eyes, the first emotion he had shown thus far. He had slipped in at the back, just as it was beginning. It had been a Wednesday, the sky was cloudy and there was a chill in the air. He'd spent the whole time staring directly at the coffin that sat before the large crowd mourners, the edge of his conscious questioning the reality of the situation; she could not be gone, not after how they had left things. He remembered listening to the stories and the songs and thinking how nothing they did could correctly represent the woman that had been Amelia Bones. Nothing they did could show the scale of her impact, the complexity of her mind, the fairness, wisdom and good judgement that underlay every decision she had made. He had not cried; she would not have wanted it.

"It's a great, great shame," Fudge was saying, "She was a brilliant witch."

Better than brilliant, was all Rufus could think.

"She should've been here," he said, "not me."

"I don't think she would've liked that," Fudge said with a smile.

The current minster looked at the ex with confusion.

"Did you not know?" Fudge exclaimed, "Madame Bones was instrumental in swaying the committee in your favour. She said her full support was behind you. Words like that from a witch like her still mean something."

Her full support. Rufus blinked furiously. He had spent the last few months analyzing what had passed between them on that day in her office. Maybe, he thought, if he could identify what gave her doubt, he could improve and change her mind. But, apparently, she had rearranged her opinions on her own. A weight settled in his stomach. If only he had spoken to her about it. Because there were still some words that haunted him; It is not the nation I'm worried about. What did that mean?

"Sir."

In his distracted state, Rufus had not noticed Fudge's departure or the arrival of the man of whom they had been speaking. Pius Thicknese stood next to him, holding a parchment letter in his hands. The smooth, looping handwriting on the front was one that Rufus recognized.

"I found this in Madame Bones's desk," Thicknese said, "It was addressed to the Minster for Magic."

"Thank you," Rufus muttered, taking it from him.

The letter was not meant for him. Most likely it would be some forgotten memoranda for Fudge, as Amelia had not lived long enough to see Rufus become Minister. Still he held on to the letter like it was something precious, not daring to open it, desperately wanting it to contain some divine words of wisdom from a woman he had admired so much. And, to his surprise, when he finally opened it, it did. Sort of.

Rufus,

Take care of yourself,

Amelia.