Got hair in a curl That flows to her bones And a comb in her pocket If the wind get blown Sunday, December 17 • Morning
Sunday mornings at inns were incredibly dull, in Tonks' opinion. Drinking some tea, laughing at the things printed in the paper and watching people check out and then go about their business was good for about an hour, but then things quieted down.
No shops open, no home to putter about yet, and no visiting to do yet ... as that was one nest of Doxies she wasn't quite yet ready to dive into.
Hence: rattling about the office. ... Theo surely wouldn't object to a bit of colour at her desk, would he? Tonks regarded the print before her dubiously before shrugging and waving her wand to plaster it to the wall. It wasn't like she was girling up the place with plushed animals or anything, and besides, the thing had been Charmed so that clients would see the cover of Kirley McCormack Duke's solo album, not the men of the Kenmare Kestrels.
Let's siphon up some gas, let's get this show on the road Said the coma girl to the excitement gang Friday, December 8 :: Afternoon
On one hand, it was heartening that mum had pushed her out the door so soon with a lead on a job in the wizarding world.
On the other, being reminded of Andromeda Tonks' formidable connections was a bit intimidating. Getting set back up with a paycheck quickly was well and good, but once that was done she would sure as anything move on to the lovelife.
Distracted by that incredibly frightening thought, Tonks barely missed a gaggle of young witches. A parcel caught her on the arm and sent her stumbling against the side of the record store next to The Leaky Cauldron.
Right-o. Have to visit there next, good to remember.
She straightened herself up and brushed her jacket off.
Wouldn't do to show up at an interview with this Mr. Nott with brick dust all over, would it? The holes in the jacket he'd have to accept, though. That was vintage denim.
Consider the daffodil. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff. - Jack Handey Wednesday, December 6th ~ Evening
Theo had come to Hogsmeade with a plan - a plan that had seemed perfect. Unfortunately his prey had made other plans and not shown.
How very inconsiderate.
He was vehement that the appointment would be kept this time - he was even willing to come to them if necessary. Which would go to explain his first stop, climbing over the balcony of Draco Malfoy's penthouse and slipping through his wards.
Now, if I was a vain and vapid git, where would I keep...
Like a thief in the night I'm gonna steal what's mine Wednesday, Nov. 1 || Late night
Hardly a proper test.
A doddering fool of an Auror, the cover of a quiet night and a key. Everything had been provided, everything was in readiness. If Mr. Nott failed, Bellatrix would feel it almost a kindness, the steps she would have to take to cover her tracks.
Almost she yearned for that opportunity; it had been so very quiet lately.
Bellatrix buried her impatience and waited for Mr. Nott to return.
So if you meet me Have some courtesy Have some sympathy, and some taste Use all your well-learned politesse Or I'll lay your soul to waste. Saturday, Oct. 21 || Afternoon
An increase in activities in the shadows and outside of the law had not escaped Bellatrix's notice, although from all appearances it largely had escaped the notice of the Aurors and Hit Wizards.
Bella's hooded eyes scanned a piece of parchment, both a report confirming the identity of the wizard behind so many items of interest lately and a letter of recommendation for the same.
Her plans, some in motion even now, some still ripening, needed darkness and quiet to succeed. There was no spare room for someone else's meddling. A grand scheme, something of worth — that she might be willing to accommodate and make room for.
Petty thefts, however. She would not allow something so small to jeopardize her aims. Either this Mr. Nott would have the skills to continue to keep his activities beneath the notice of the noxious authorities, or he was a threat to be eliminated.
And so she would put him to the test. Bellatrix drew a cloak around herself and entered the alley behind a building rumor indicated would soon be the site of a ... "security firm."
Mr. Nott would either prove useful, or would be quieted.
Midsummer's Festival Saturday, June 24th ~ Early Evening
"This is Anastasia Witherpool, live in downtown Hogsmeade where the Midsummer's Festival is well under way. People are crowding the streets, vendors are out offering their - "
A slight scuffle is heard over the air, ending in Anastasia muffling a curse and muttering about her foot.
"Rita Skeeter here. Voting for this year's Litha Queen is still open and remember, every vote counts some more than others so be sure to come out and vote for your favorite candidate. Someone you know and trust, someone you would welcome into your homes every evening during her segment on the nightly news. Someone, for instance, like me?"
-back that microphone, woman, before I -
"Ezekiel Brunderbluss, back at the WWN studio once more. We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties with our live broadcast.
A homecoming of sorts Wednesday, April 26th - Afternoon
Dung stubbed out his cigarette and thought longingly of the pipe packed safely away in his bag back at the inn. He'd been in a hurry to meet his contact and hadn't wanted to take the time to find it.
"Where are you? I've got t'ings ta do, can't be lurking 'bout waitin' all day," he grumbled under his breath, still trying to blend in with the rest of the afternoon crowd at the Hog's Head. He'd chosen a booth in the back, near the almost hidden back door he'd discovered on a prior visit when a quiet, unobserved exit had been needed.
Long, nimble fingers dug into his cigarette pack for another smoke.
Muggle London was just like she'd remembered from her days as a student at the Le Corden Bleu Academie D'Art Culinaire and Daphne was beginning to think that maybe moving back to London wouldn't be such a horrid idea after all.
She sipped her soda and looked out at the busy street from her chair at a little outdoor cafe.
It certainly couldn't be any worse than all that had happened since she returned to Hogsmeade. At least during the years she'd lived amongst the Muggles she'd never been seduced by a vampire, never felt like her heart was being broken in two - several times - by the same damn wizard, never been attacked by a demented over-protective house-elf, never ended up covered in Circe knew what numerous times... never fallen in love, never opened her own place and felt that all consuming sense of pride when it didn't fail...