5:41 pm



In the bright, cheerfully lit atmosphere of Hogsmeade’s most popular sweetshop, Rick glared at a jar of treacle fudge as if it was to blame for his presence there in the first place.

It was the twenty-third of December – the eve of Christmas Eve – and he did not want to be here; by all rights he should’ve been back at the shop—working—or having one last drink with the guys before leaving for Santa Monica. But letters from home (Howlers, even, what the fuck) had flown in that morning, each written in varying degrees of pushy and cajoling and every one of them a last-minute request. For things. Sweet things, like there wasn’t a damn candy store in the entire country they could order from on their own. Ice Mice, Chocolate Frogs, Acid Pops and Jelly Slugs—you name it, they wanted it, and oh, would he be so kind to buy maybe fifty pounds of chocolate? They’d pay him back, they promised-

God, the crap he did for family.

And so two hours later, Rick found himself in an achingly, blindingly green room, brows set into a mulish frown and surrounded by brightly colored sweets on all sides. Broad, leather-clad shoulders hunched into an unhappy slouch, the wizard let his gaze be drawn away by a display of sugar skulls and stared at them with what he hoped would pass for disinterest (instead of, say, confusion); he wasn’t really a sweets person. Out of sheer self-defense, he had already begun studying the large candy dispenser (–figuring out the proportions, idly calculating what alterations he’d make to increase efficiency–) when, finally, he decided to cut his losses. Delaying the inevitable only meant he’d be there longer, after all.

Biting down on that soft ‘fuck’ he wanted to sigh so badly – and sparing a moment to shoot a wary glance over at the counter – Rick turned to the nearest person in the aisle. “Hey,” he reluctantly tapped a shoulder, and tried to school his expression into something more… polite. Less like he’d saw his own foot off, maybe. “Twelve-years-old, picky kid, likes her candy to uh, move. What would you give her?”

By the skin of his teeth, he managed a somewhat pained, somewhat sheepish smile and shoved his hands into his pockets. “ ‘S for my niece.”

---

Mark was minding his own in Honeydukes, trying to figure out what to get that pesky little brother of his. Colin needed something to suck on. Maybe just a lollypop? But he wanted the kid to have something special. Something magical. As he looked around the shop, he found himself standing next to the tall gent, and didn't even know what to do. With the attacks on his apartment going on, Mark Hunter was a nervous wreck. Anyone could be the one out to get him.

Mark's eyes settled on the taller man in his peripheral vision, trying not to stare. Could he be the one targeting Mark? Below the radar. Just stay below the radar, and don't appear to be a threat. The man was much taller than Mark, much more toned than Mark, and a whole hell of a lot more intimidating than Mark. Just make your way to the door, and you can slip out. Get ready to go in three...two....

"Hey, Twelve-years-old, picky kid, likes her candy to uh, move. What would you give her?... ‘S for my niece.”

Mark shut his eyes, then slowly opened them. Don't bother the big, frightening man. You're safe here. You're in the pubic eye. He's probably not the one out to get you. You're probably safe. Mark then started to fumble over his words, as he tried to conjure a sentence. "Well, uh, you, uh, you could do a Chocolate Frog. That'd, uh, be your, uh, best guess," He said looking at the big man, his eyes huge.

(( its the first time I join an already going thread so pleas, excuse me if I scrap every thing  OnO)

Clement eared the conversation, and it was pretty hard fir him to not Clément into it and make a suggestion. For a strange reason, it was like something deep in him was pushing him. Having not much relations with people and eating his feelings had made him discover manny tasty and delicious stuff, especially sweets. The best of all to forgot a broken heart. And so, he decided to jump in and risk something like being totally embarrassed.

"Hem, excuse me? Maybe you could, well...try the Gingerbread Tritons or the caramels. They are....p-pretty good" now that he did it, a voice in his head was repeating "Why did I do that, whydid I do that, why did I do that, why......" The taller one was especially intimidating. He felt like he would be able to eat him in one bite...literally.

"Well, uh, you, uh, you could do a Chocolate Frog. That'd, uh, be your, uh, best guess."

At the man’s uneasy stare, Rick felt his eyebrows climb, feeling the urge to frown (because all he’d done was smile, for fuck’s sake), if it hadn’t been for the gut feeling that doing just that would only make things, well, worse. The guy was looking as tense as a chord set twisted and wrenched at both ends—Rick was pretty sure any change in expression would flat out spook him. He reminded the werewolf of a rabbit, and the comparison wasn’t exactly a comfortable one.

Much to the Artificer’s fraying patience, the second one wasn’t much of an improvement – temperament-wise – either.

Still, Rick gave the teen’s suggestion consideration. Stepping back from the shelves to get a better look at the aisle, he scanned them for said Frogs and Tritons, brows furrowing anyway. Either sounded like a good idea – both fitted the requirement, and looked okay enough that he was tempted to try ‘em himself – but there was a piping, girlish voice at the back of his head that, in a matter-of-fact tone, had gone, ‘boring.’

Making a face – and momentarily forgetting about the skittish blokes – Rick wondered just how much trouble he’d be in for giving the kid a Blood Pop under false pretenses. And not just one of the regular kind, but the newer types, like the cinnamon flavor or ‘Eastern’ blend (‘mango, lychee and peach fusion, for the discerning palate!’ it had said in shiny, curling gilt). She hated those.

“You sure?” he asked, side-eyeing Mark. They were starting to put him on edge, these two, and while he liked to think his furry problem was one he had to worry about only once a month, he’d had it for so long that some things just stuck. Maybe he should’ve gone straight to Rosie…

What irritated Izola about Hogsmeade, to the point of being a potential deal breaker, was the absence of food stalls on the streets prepared to sell her food at any hour. It meant that Izola visited Honeydukes, situated opposite her salon and always glowing brightly with the promise of sugary and delicious goods, far more than was healthy, because while she'd stopped expecting a stall selling waffles (she didn't expect decent food from food stalls in the UK outside Borough Market) to appear next to the Shrieking Shack, Izola was yet to stop wanting food that she didn't have to cook on demand.

The other potential deal breaker with Hogsmeade was the impossibility of calling for pizza.

Still ruminating on the possibility of starting a pizza delivery business when she walked into Honeydukes, Izola eased her scarf to be a little less tight around her neck as she walked in, smiling at the cashier (whose name she was unable to remember, although he'd been the cashier for many of her irregular trips to Honeydukes in the past couple of months). It was a smile that widened when she caught sight of a familiar back, clad, as ever, in black leather- something that, as ever, made Izola roll her eyes in disgust, even as she reached up to place a perfectly manicured hand on Rick's shoulder, applying just enough pressure to get him to turn and see her smile. It was amazing how many teeth Izola could fit into a smile, when she wanted to.

"Darling, I didn't expect to see you here," she trilled, stopping short of hugging him because she might then be expected to hug the two people facing him, neither of whom were an attractive prospect, although that was unattractive compared to Rick, which was almost everybody. "Oh, hello," Izola smiled at the other two, a smile that only had the slightest hint of smirk about it, "It's a pleasure to meet any of Rick's friends, I'm Izola."

Mark kept his eyes locked on Rich, as his hand inched closer to his wand that was in it's holder in his belt. That way, if he was held up on leaving, he could create a distraction and get out of there. Mark tried to search his peripheral vision for any watchers, to see if he was being followed or anything. But it seemed safe. For now.

“You sure?”

"Yes, uh, my, uh, friend loves them." Mark replied hastily, not wanting to give away too much personal information, in case this man was working with the person who was sending the threats. He didn't want to take any chances, as anyone could be looking for him.

Just as his hand started to graze the handle of his wand, when a women came behind Rich and smiled, then called him Rich's friend, finally discovering the intimidating man's name. "Oh, I don't know him." He said quickly, keeping his hand only an inch away from the wand.

''I have a Gingerbread Tritons box with me. I...I can give it to you, I'll just go get another o-one'' He wasnt feeling good around those people who looked strange to him. Even if he wasnt verry smaller than them, he gave the Gingerbread Tritons box to Rick and walked quickly away from them. He still couldnt understand why he poped out of no where just to help a perfect stranger. But something inside him was also saying: ''Dont go to far, they might say something interesting...'' And so he did.

Clément went right behind them, pretending to look at the chocolates and sour crawling snakes, waiting for something cunchy. Why was he doing this?

Arianne entered the sweets shop with a bright smile on her face, terribly grateful for the Hangover Potion she had just ingested minutes ago. She felt she deserved copious amounts of chocolate for the terrible headache she had been suffering since she woke up. So after she picked up her potion at the owl post, to Honeydukes it was!

She recognized him instantly, she would know  that behind out of a hundred, but before she could smile utterly pleased the presence of one of her students in the shop, completely rained on her parade. She couldn't very well be seen in his company—at least not in the way she would've like to grab-greet him. Eherm. But, alas, the fates were in her favor! 'Oh this is going to be fun. Merveilleux!' she though to herself. Happily for Arianne, Izola Bellamane - her good friend and owner of the most fantastique beauty salon in all of wizarding England - was also there. Talking to Monsieur Donovan, nonetheless. Unfortunately for him, however... while Arianne and Izola knew each other and also knew him, Rick had absolutely no idea that the two women were acquainted—or that they shared stories about him, all sorts of stories. Fun indeed.

"Chérie" Arianne exclaimed just as she approached Izola. She smiled devilishly, very discreetly looking at Rick behind her, then quickly back at Izola and gave her a naughty wink. "Oh, it is so incroyable to meet you here, darling" she said still smiling, as she leaned forward and kissed her on both cheeks. Before she turned around, she gave Izola a very excited but subtle grin.

"Monsieur Donovan, I would've never" she forced her face in a fake expression of shock "thought to see you anywhere near a sweets shop" she continued in fake outrage. By which she actually meant 'how dare you come near Hogwarts and not announce me'. She gave him a small knowing smile and turned back to Izola. "Mademoiselle, my hair is in desperate need of your attention, as soon as possible" she smiled politely, then gave her another wink while subtly looking at Rick from the corner of her eye.

When Rick felt Izola’s hand fall onto his shoulder - saw Izola’s smile stare at him, like something horrible from the black depths of an ocean – and then, and then see it side by side with Arianne, of all people – Rick felt dread well at the bottom of his gut.

This… This… What.

He barely registered Clément shoving the box of Gingerbread Tritons into his hand, it was that horrible.

“Apology gift,” he wrung out, staring blankly at them in horror. When he held up the Tritons for their scrutiny, they were held up like a shield; in any universe the two women, in conjunction, were terrifying. Izola, Rick wasn’t even moderately ashamed to admit anymore, had been running his life whenever she felt like it, ever since he moved to London. Arianne, on the other hand, had a very sure grip on his balls since Paris.

And now, apparently, they knew each other—were friends, even. Fuck. Damage control, damage control, he needed-

He needed someone else to have their attention. That many darling’s couldn’t mean anything good.

Without so much as even glancing Mark’s way (although there was a small, brief moment of regret. No one deserved having something like this sprung on them), Rick suddenly smiled at the women, the harsh planes of his face melting into an easy grin. “These guys were nice enough to help me out,” he said as he visibly turned his attention back to the shelves, moving casually down the aisle—and leaving Mark within their grasp. “But if I’d known you were in town, Arianne, I would’ve called you for help. Kids are basically your job, aren’t they?”

The grin Rick slanted her way was smug as hell – he knew very well neither woman liked children – as he passed by Clément on the way to the cashier. “Thanks, kid,” he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. And then he was at the counter, shoving the box across it and pulling out his wallet.

Mark sighed a breath of relief as Rich left the aisle. So he wasn't the one hunting him down. Mark slid the wand properly into it's holster, and relaxed his shoulders. "Oh, uh, happy Christmas!" Mark called after him, offering a nervous smile, knowing it was an awkward thing to shout after an exchange like that. That man had two women at his side within minutes. It was impressive to say the least, and as Rich checked out, Mark nodded to each lady, in a hello fashion, and tightened his scarf around his neck.

Mark then grabbed the first thing on the shelf he saw, and turned on his heel, heading off to a different aisle hoping that the ladies wouldn't talk to him, or drag anymore attention to him. He just wanted to fade into the background like he used to in Hogwarts constantly.