From the Department of Internal Affairs and General Mindfuckery

The Boss is losing his mind. Dracaena is still in her meeting. It shouldn't be taking this long, and Penny is taking the minutes so I can't ask her. Mrs Scalara doesn't know, but she's practically frothing at the mouth because, according to her, we have to get all the Malfoys out of Londinium before sundown. (And then I had to go and tell her that Yvon Malfoy was at St Mungo's, and good luck getting him to leave without the Boss's little brother.)

Miss Umbridge, who is always exactly three minutes early coming back from her lunch hour, has taken a long lunch without any warning. My best guess would be that she's at St Mungo's too, but something tells me that now is not the time to tell Nico. Surely they won't let her in to see Portia before Nicodemo has a chance to clear her himself?

Bran Evans still thinks he's going to get the Boss in his office to talk about things that aren't real, as far as the Boss is concerned, no matter what his little brother (who is just a little mad, sometimes) says.

If Raissa interrupts me today to complain about her children (or our brother, who might as well be one of them), I won't be responsible. She has David and Ephraim and Alexei to worry about.

I have Nicodemo Zabini. And Verity Umbridge.

I win.

I am so tired. How in the world did I get so tired just going to services?

But Ilan and Teresa are so madly in love that you can practically breathe it in just sitting next to one or the other of them; it's absolutely adorable, especially when she glances at the mechitzah as if she wishes she could see through it.

I remember feeling like that--about a hundred years ago, or so it seems. I miss it.

My nephew David, and his friend Zipporah Kaplan, who's finally turned up after skipping today's round of services, don't seem to inspire the same degree of indulgence. The mother part of me thinks we should probably write to the Kaplans at once; the practical part of me is aware that the Kaplans, who are much more observant than we are, won't open their mail till the yom tov is over, especially since, according to my daughter Sadie, they are perfectly aware that Zipporah ran off to go to the Malfoys' to be at Melina Ducas' wedding--which irritates Sadie no end, since she and Melina Ducas, now Zabini, did not get along.

Raissa and Alexei and David are arguing; I just wanted to know what had happened, so I took Zipporah aside and asked her, because I wanted to know what to expect Monday morning.

It seems the Boss's brother didn't marry that girl after all.

We are so fucked.

I was relieved when he told me it wasn't really Teresa saying these things, because it didn't seem like her, except then I was sorry I hadn't scratched her eyes out like I really rather wanted to when she came in here, because she'd told me that she might disappear, but she hadn't told me someone else was going to take her place, and you know, I was one of the ones that Fortune believed it about!

I really don't need anyone else looking into my bookkeeping, although I'm far more careful than I once was, and I was never not careful.

He's reacting predictably, which is to say, he's foaming at the mouth when no-one's looking and biting the heads off those individuals who can't read the obvious signs that his last nerve has frayed. I sent Fudge out on an errand that I know will take all day because I don't want to listen to him blubbering any more than anyone else does, and I'm going to give him to the Ozzer as payback for that little lecture he gave the boss this morning.

And Charteris' people all insist that either they never knew of Mrs Silveira having a child or that her child died in France and would I like to see the papers.

I should probably warn Dracaena.

I won't say I've never been this glad to get him out of here, because it isn't true--two months ago he was making the interns cry, and sometimes they didn't even make it to the loo before they broke down.

But he's always in such a rush these days--always out of here by six at the latest, no matter how long the rest of us have to stay to ensure it. Still, he's in a good mood, and if he's in a good mood, life is easier for everyone, and I don't have a child who is nearly as old as I am myself and still biting.

It was kind of Teresa to warn me, but Teresa is kind by nature and as much as I do love our boss, I'll be glad when she has someone who deserves her. Mother's at Mungo's now, unfortunately--but he's always made sure that we're on the best of terms with the staff. (Kitty Turpin and her sweet tooth! Although really I think she'd be perfectly satisfied with the amount of gossip he provides her with, lately, just coming and going.)

It will be good to see Alessio again, at any rate.

On his feet, and I do mean both of them, hopefully.