“Honorious!” Nicola Randall stepped from the back of her shop onto the main floor, heels of the black ankle boots clicking on the wood. Long dark hair fell down her back and over her shoulder in a loose ponytail. Such raven coloured hair and darkly coloured lips posed a stark contrast to her extremely pale skin. Deep brown eyes locked onto the handsome figure in red robes as the door closed behind him. That was definitely not the auror in his forties that spoke to her like muggle shit. He’d been the bastard assigned to ‘babysitting’ her for over a year. Apparently, the ministry was still convinced she was up to no good, they just couldn’t prove it and she certainly wouldn’t let them.

The shop floor wasn’t large, with the good stuff hidden out back in the basement. Nothing of any real interest was kept in the public eye. No one knew who would stumble upon the shop! But the room was busy, but well laid out. Various devices, furniture and magical objects were scattered around, no price labels visible. The price was whatever the proprietor believed one could afford.

Stood behind the counter, the owner of the Black Widow stopped, eyes dancing over the face, the eyes, the robes. “No.” the statement was blunt, direct. “Too handsome.” She shook her head and slowly stepped around the waist height counter to move closer to the red robed auror who’d replaced Stilicho for this meeting. “Are you a really early birthday present?” Lips twisted into a smirk and she continued to move closer, swinging her hips with her slow predatory movements.

When Omari had demanded to finally have some fieldwork after his time off, he had not meant some silly mission like this. He had meant infiltrating warlock circles in Warwickshire; or persuing goblins gathering counterfeit galleons; or even accompanying azkaban arsonists to their arranged trials. All of these he would have gladly done instead of pushing papers. What he had not meant was babysitting some witch in Knockturn Alley with a tendency for wickedness.

It wasn’t the fact that he was in Knockturn Alley that irked him - he had been many times before and had gotten so used to the empty threats that he wore his robes with pride, even in there. No, it was the fact that he had been put on patrol duty, with his instructions being nothing else than “just go and see if she keeps herself in line like she promised”. Simple. Too simple.

Omari wasn’t in the best mood as he opened the door to the shop, and a small chime made his presence known. The room was busy with numerous trinkets and devices, half of which Omari wished he had the resources to test out for Dark magic. He glanced around, his Auror training in mind, and scouted out all possible exits. You never knew how the inhabitants of Knockturn Alley would react when an Auror came to visit!

“Honorius!”

A woman’s voice came floating through from the back right before a witch stepped into the room. She was pale, dark haired and dressed in a burgundy lace dress. Her face faltered for a second when she saw Omari, but quickly turned into a smirk as she rounded the counter and walked towards him.

“Are you a really early birthday present?”

If Omari hadn’t been in a bad mood before, he was now. The lady’s unwanted advance, from her smirking face to her swinging hips, did nothing but put Omari off her. He was here on business, which she could tell from his red robes, and she should act accordingly. This was not Calaveras past midnight. (Although Omari could already not wait until he could get a large glass of firewhiskey in his hand.)

“Miss Randall, I presume?” he said, making sure his voice was extra deep.

The auror was at least a foot taller than the slight witch who barely reached 5”6 with her tall heels. Dark skin, dark eyes and muscular. He really was quite the specimen; a real upgrade to the usual stiff that made his monthly visit to the Black Widow to raise the ire of the owner.

“Handsome and clearly intelligent.” Nicola responded, dark eyes trailing his body as if drinking him in hungrily. Why him? Why the delicious scowling beauty instead of the old cripple with wrinkles and halitosis that made her want to wretch? Was this an attempt to have her weakened? To start blathering about her links and ties to the criminal underworld or her bad deeds? Were they hoping she might admit to her relations with Tawse if they stuck a new face in front of her? Was the whole ministry full of morons?

“Wasted in red.” The witch smiled before turning back away from him and walking back behind the counter and through to the back room. He’d follow her. It was his job. They always followed. They always wanted to know what the crazy widow in Knockturn Alley was hiding. “Come on, Red, the dead bodies are kept out here.”