(no subject)

[pansy_parkinson]

Who: Pansy Parkinson and open
What: Same Slytherin, different day
Where: Diagon Alley
When: Late afternoon
Rating: PG?
Status: Incomplete

Something was stirring, and it was not just the cool autumn wind. Miss Parkinson hardly minded the wind, and had firmly put other matters out of her mind, as dangerous as dangerous as she knew the "ignorance is bliss" mentality was. The day was overcast, and it had been raining, if the darkened cobblestones of Diagon Alley were any indication. She curled further inside her cloak as she meandered along the sidewalk, perversely enjoying the stark, cold air, glad to let it do its best to energize her. She had a few spare coins, and was due to receive her pay, soon: perhaps she'd have a cup of coffee, or even a pastry, before returning to Malfoy Manor. Perhaps she'd merely wander the streets, wraithlike, happy to be lost in limbo. She had the vaguest suspicion that they'd all have to choose sides, soon enough.

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[pansy_parkinson]

At the sound of his voice, she jumped a little, and then grinned in spite of herself. She shifted, the better to accomodate his reaching, and then leaned forward, peering at the jar.

On the contrary, given the look of fascination, she certainly didn't find it appealing, per se; interesting, though, absolutely. "A Transylvania wood sprite," she repeated softly, mindlessly, as she listened to his recitation of the facts. The little thing did look disgusting, but she wasn't concerned with the aesthetics of its appearance.

"And what do you use it for, Theo?" she asked, straightening, in a tone that was half singsong teasing, half burningly morbid curiosity. It might have been obvious that she didn't really expect a truthful, or even serious, response.

[theo_nott]

Theo grinned at her question and he gave her a playful little smile. "Me? I sell it. For about a hundred thousand galleons a wing. What the BUYER uses it for... well. That's none of my business." He flashes her a teasing wink before he slipped the jar back and he smoothly pressed it to the back of the shelf... the room was HEAVILY guarded with curses and spells, so he wasn't too concerned...

"So if you need anything you know where to come. Here, you might like this." He smiled a bit and he softly squeezed her hand, tugging her over to the other side. He took a small, clear box, and he pulled it down before he showed her its contents. A small, purple flower... its petals were thin, and frayed at the edges, but it was pretty, nonetheless.

"I can't really pronounce this one... it's russian, and it's supposedly very strong when it comes to mind control potions.. it sells well. Intunca... Intru.. eh, whatever its called." He blushed a bit and laughed a little, but he placed it back on his shelf and started to tug her back to the bookcase. "Come on, the kettle is probably ready and your hands are still cold..."

[pansy_parkinson]

What she would've done for a hundred thousand galleons didn't even bear thinking about. Pansy goggled at the creature for another moment, and then looked transferred her attention to the flower he produced.

"It's beautiful. I'm a bit sad that I can only love flowers from a distance. Allergies, you know. Otherwise, I might've had an easier time in Herbology."

"I'd nearly forgotten about the hot chocolate, how terrible of me," she tittered, tugged along in his wake. "You've been a wonderful host, Theo. I can't thank you enough."