(Same day as Every Child is an Artist where Shade's away)

Lawrence was reaching a new record in how long he could nurse a beer in the Leaky Cauldron before someone asked him to leave. He smiled to himself as the clock on the wall above the bar in the Leaky Cauldron ticked over a new hour. He'd scoured the Daily Prophet for most of the time, ringing jobs with a quill, penning applications on the smallest amounts of parchment in the hope he'd not have to buy any more on his limited funds. He didn't much want to get a normal job, but if he wanted to not live in a hostel, or beg the floor from an inebriated newly met friend each night, he was going to have to find funding some way.

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of red hair caught his eye.

Red hair was not uncommon in the wizarding world. The Weasleys were living, breathing proof that red hair didn't hold you back in being both a well respected old blood family and also the most despised for popping out more children than seemed sensible from one woman. The hair, and the face he'd caught a glimpse of were ringing bells in the back of Lawrence's head. He tried not to stare, and instead, reached into his secondhand duffle coat pocket with his remaining hand, and dug it out. There it was.

Red hair had been here yesterday, with a sandy-haired boy. There'd been a key and they'd gone upstairs to a room. This meant one of two possibilities, she was a paying guest staying for a while, or well... the sand-haired boy was paying, and today there'd be someone else. Lawrence had dismissed the second after consideration. How handy of her to reappear today, when he had the wallet in his coat again, just for that opportunity. He wouldn't ordinarily risk being caught with someone else's wallet - the law enforcement patrol at the very least would have a field day.

Rolling the newspaper, parchment and quill up, Lawrence stuffed them in his left hand pocket, and shoved his arm into the pocket after it. His right hand closed around the wallet in his pocket as he approached her at the bar.
"Excuse me," he asked politely, clearing his throat. His face was quickly reassembling the repenting, reformed criminal he'd presented to the Daily Prophet on his release in February. The way he was dressed did nothing to suggest other than he was scraping by and had seen better days. The staff behind the bar gave him a suspect look which wasn't helping.
"Hello there. This is going to sound awfully strange, but did you drop a wallet in Diagon Alley?"

Chloe had had a day. She was taking care of errands, selling back some old school books that she wouldn't need, scrounging around for a little pocket change. Luckily, she found a great little second hand book store, and she knew that the old history of magic books would go to a good cause. Hopefully, some other student would fall asleep on them at the beginning of the year. The morning errands had taken up a majority of the day, and now, she wanted to settle down for a little lunch, and a butter beer.

She sat down on a bar stool, next to a long haired fellow that she had seen once or twice before. He didn't give off the best of aura's. Course, you never could judge a person purely off looks, and so, she knew that she had to keep an open mind. Also, just because she sat next to him did not mean that she needed to socialize with him. Eat, then go upstairs. That's all.

 She flagged over a waitress, and ordered a fish and chips, but then, the strange man sitting next to her started talking to her. When she finally studied his face, she recognized him from the Prophet. He had been released from Azkaban, and he was talking to her. Oh, awesome. This was an awesome situation to get into. If her mother could see her now...

He asked her if she had lost a wallet yesterday, and her eyebrows knit together. "Actually, yeah, someone stole it," She replied suspiciously. How did he know that she lost her wallet? She would have to be careful around this guy, his history spoke for itself. "Why do you ask?" She wondered carefully. There were enough people in the bar. She was safe.

"Stole it?" Lawrence asked, his face adopting a look of alarm. "Goodness, are you alright? Did it happen this morning?" He glanced up and down at her, pretending to look for signs that she was hurt or otherwise harmed. "Did you report it to the aurors?" The question was genuine, as to whether he might run into them later for some questions about this discussion. He had to tread carefully, lay the foundations and hope for any potential reward.

He dug into his pocket with his hand and pulled out the purse, gripped between his fingers. He studied it a moment and observed her expression, which showed recognition.
"I found it out in the gutter this morning on my way here. Thought I would hand it in if I saw the patrol come through, or take it into the Ministry later, but I recognised you. The thief must have tossed it aside." He turned it in his fingers. "I hope you don't think this is silly, but just to be sure it is yours and not someone else's, would you tell me something about what is inside?" He frowned, "Can't be too careful," he inclined over a little towards her, keeping the purse out of her reach as he did, "There are some sticky-fingered people around the Cauldron, the aurors should really do more about it..."

Chloe was growing more and more suspicious by the changing moment. She shook her head as he looked her over, which was just a little odd. Why the sudden concern about her wellbeing? Any other person probably wouldn't be that worried about a stranger. "No, um. I'm fine, thanks," she said, sitting back in her chair, and crossing her arms skeptically. He was asking a lot of questions. "And I didn't report it. I just didn't really think about it. I guess I was kinda in shock," she replied.

The strange guy then pulled out her purse and she was surprised. He actually had it, wow. She put down her arms and looked at it, like it was gold. She thought she wouldn't ever see it again, yet here it was in the hands of a sketchy guy who was holding it just out of her reach. "Yum, there's a few galleons in there, there's a photo ID, actually, to Chloe Harris," she said. "Could I just get it back? Thanks for fimding it for me, though," she said. There was something else going on here. She knew from the start that she count exactly trust this guy, but he did have her purse. And she did want that back.

"You didn't?" Lawrence asked, genuinely surprised. "My dear, you do not trouble the Ministry enough."

He opened it deftly with his one hand and made a show of checking the photo inside just to check, even though he was quite sure.
"Harris, now no relation to old Warty are you?" Of course she wasn't - or if she was, poor girl, he felt pity for the relation but glad that she was fairer in face.

The purse was still in his hand as he asked, flicking it shut and looking a moment as if he was going to hand it over before asking if she were a relation.
"He used to love to breed frogs, only he was forever claiming they'd been stolen when I was an auror. The things used to hop off, of course, he wasn't the brightest. Good job you aren't related, I say. But wizarding family, your lot?" As he asked, he gestured with the purse in his hand, taking hidden delight in Chloe's expression and the way her eyes followed her property.

Chloe was really picking up on the actions now. This guy was wasting time when he clearly could give the purse back. But also, he had seen the ID, he knew it belonged to her, and now he was bantering about some other Harris guy? Really? This was some kind of suspicious. "No, I'm not related to him." She said briefly, before looking over to his eyes, in a way, pushing him to give the item to her.

He continued about this other Harris, before asking what her family was like. "Yeah, I'm from a lot of muggles. Now, can I have my purse back? Please?" She asked, as her lunch was delivered alongside a butterbeer. She took a sip, sighing, and rubbing her temples. She just wanted her bag back, so she could close this chapter of the book.

"Looks good," Lawrence remarked, nodding to her lunch. "They always do good lunches here, good ol' Leaky, hasn't changed." He tapped her purse on the bar between them. "Pity I can't afford to eat here. Hard times."

He was receiving funny looks from people behind the bar now, so he tapped the purse twice more.
"But you're not here to listen to me whitter on." He got back to his feet, and went to turn away and leave, tossing the purse back to her, his expression darkening as he left, feeling he could string her along no more. It was clear there was nothing more to gain by this route.

Chloe watched him closely, as he put the purse between them and made a comment about how he was too poor to eat at the place. At this point, she was a bit too freaked out to even think about what he said. Either way, nothing logical pointed her to buying him lunch either- she wasn't a Hufflepuff, for God's sake! "Thanks, yeah. The Leaky's pretty great," She added.

Finally, he got up and went to leave. She was about to call after him and ask for her purse, but she didn't need to; he tossed it back at the last moment, and as they made their last bit of eye contact, his expression turned her blood cold. Every instict of hers was called forward, yelling at her that this guy was not a guy to be with, nor to mess with. In that moment, their whole conversation played again in her head. This man was something different. She did not feel okay around him. "Nice speaking to you," She said more to herself as she turned into the bar, and huddled over her lunch, trying to calm her nerves. Something wasn't right.