2210 hours, Camden Town.


            "Which member of ABBA did you bleed dry to get that shirt, mate?"

Terrence Hooker joined Tristan at one of the pew booths in his establishment - the Camden Town Hookers. The bar was what many in the wizarding community knew as a bit of an open secret; they were fairly above board when it came to most of their business but if you knew the right people then you also knew that the coven who ran it were in the habit of illegally drinking blood 'straight from the tap'.

"Excusez-Moi," Tristan blinked back and motioned at his old friend's outfit, black tie loosened at the collar. "Some of us like colour in our wardrobes."

Terry laughed, his sharp teeth looking especially white. He had been much friendlier since Tristan had visited with Ceph and Andromeda earlier this year; they could shed grand pretences without Ministry wixes around. One of the barmaids dropped by with two tumblers of blood - Ministry verified - and then drifted away to the bar. The great mirror behind the counter reflected none of its vampiric patrons. Of the dozen weekend visitors tonight, only three were human.

Four. A little witch strode through the doors.

            "Food or fun?" Terrence asked Tristan, nodding subtly in Nemo's direction.

Tristan observed her for a second as he picked up his drink and breathed in the bouquet (a potent blood, he could smell its magic). "I don't know but we will have our answer soon enough," he raised an eyebrow at the other vampire. "She comes our way."

"Camden Town Hookers? You know what they do there, kid?"

She'd been warned, but that just made the place more magnetic. In the last month she'd met Draco Malfoy and a werewolf. Vampires was on brand for October. She fancied herself on a dark errand, to acquire a rare and risky magical reagent. From vampires.

Two sets of doors ensured no sunlight could seep its way in. Nemo moved through each with projected confidence. She wore a black hooded poncho, with lavender boots and matching lipstick. She had no plan other than to be as wily as she could, and most importantly, show no sign of intimidation or wariness. So far, so good.

She stood just inside the entrance and looked over the room. Some of the figures were very clearly no longer human, making no reflections in the large mirrors and exuding vibes. She took a deep breath and swallowed a lump in her throat, unsure how to proceed. She realized she probably looked like a sore thumb. Nemo had just turned 17, but her round face and shaggy fringe aged her down a bit more.

She felt it before she noticed it, two of them were looking at her or had glanced in her direction. They looked positively marvelous. And creepy. The little American witch took a deep breath, lifted her chin and sauntered over.

Stance wide, hands in pockets under her poncho, Nemo took a stance at their table-side and looked at each of them in turn.

"Evening, gentlemen," she said with a slow blink and a crooked smile.

"So don't ask me how I know, but I think you're who I need to talk to."

Wouldn't anyone be curious if they thought someone had been talking about them? Wouldn't most people wonder why they might be needed? It had worked getting into 21+ venues back home; but would vampires see right through it?

            "So don't ask me how I know, but I think you're who I need to talk to."

"Why would we ask you how you know?" Terrence answered first, exchanging an amused glance with Tristan. "Nothin' to hide here. Hooker's in plain sight," he sat back with his arm stretched along the back of the booth seat as he watched the girl with unreadable eyes. "Anybody who's anybody knows me."

Most, if not all, of the patrons here were thrill-seekers looking to get high off having their blood consumed. Tristan himself could distantly remember that feeling from when he used to socialise with vampires in his mortal days; the hedonistic rush of pleasure, its sensuous and criminal gratification. This one looked too young to be interested.

Tristan licked his lips, laughing at Terry's kingly demeanour.

"Who do you need to talk to, little one?" he asked their charming instigator, clicking his tongue at her like she was a misbehaving child. "Do you come to buy or sell? Très méchant, non, Terry?"

Hooker didn't look away from Nemo but he hummed in agreement. "Yea, mate. Very wicked."

The young one licked his lips. Nemo gave him a very practiced look of aloof disgust, shifting back and crossing her arms.

"Simmer down, dude," she said. 

She looked back and forth between the two. They were clearly not impressed with her and toying around, talking about her in French. She'd have to pivot. It would be better if they took her more seriously. From the werewolf's reaction, what she was after was not for the faint-hearted.

"Alright, I get it. You think I'm a flaky waif. Easy mistake to make. But I think this is the only place where I can get what I need. And it's not exactly legal."

She let that hang a minute, then took out a little tin of black cigarettes and lit one with her wand.

"Unicorn blood," she said, a breath of smoke carrying the words from her mouth. She looked between the two of them, gauging their reactions.

He laughed, tickled by the young witch telling him to settle down. Le enfant! Très mignonne, taking herself so seriously.

Terry was listening to her more seriously, however, being the proprietor and in a position to perform illegal activities without the Ministry breathing down his back. Tristan's illicit proclivities were restricted to consuming the odd suck of blood over the course of bohemian friendships or bedroom activities. It was a compromise worth making to fight for the rights of his kind - and most covens understood why he did it.

That this girl wanted unicorn did not surprise him. Her phrasing, on the other hand....

"You need this blood?" Tristan queried patronisingly before his friend could say anything. "Pourquoi? You are dying?" he narrowed his gaze to examine her with more care.

As far as he could tell with wixes, she was not sick. Her blood smelled of magic that was particular to Americans, in aroma. Terrence appeared to be doing the same thing, deliberating over whether this was good or bad business.

            "We don't sell the stuff," the other vampire lied. "Don't know what made you think we did, luv."

"We're all dying," Nemo quipped back with a little twist of her chin and flare of her eyes.

At least they hadn't laughed this time. Actually, now they were both staring at her.  Their eyes were impossible to read, glittering but actually kind of dead. She swallowed a lump in her throat and took a drag on the cigarette to try and hide any nerves. Then she did what she often did - her best defense against nerves? Doubling down.

"People talk, luv," she said and slid into the bench across from the old guy (Terry, they'd said his name) and next to the younger one. She took off her hood and fixed her hair, sliding it over one shoulder. She set her little case on the table. It had that black cat on it, that you always on old french posters.

"I can pay. What? You think I'm a narc? C'mon. Read my mind or something. You guys can do that, right?"

Her heart was beating fast in her chest, and she took another puff. 'Can't stop now, Nemes. No going back.'

              "We're all dying," said the girl and Tristan pulled a scowl of disdain.

Good God. This one was maybe even younger than she looked, to be saying such things to members of the undead. It reminded him of those mortal children who dressed in black clothes and shied away from the sun, a pseudo-denial of weaknesses many vampires desired to shed.

Terrence looked at him when she slid into the booth, as if to say she was Tristan's problem now.

"You did not answer," he ignored her payment offer and witticisms. "Why do you need this blood? You think it is sold for coin alone?"

It was, to others of his kind, but they were wary of selling to humans. The state of undead souls were... different. To consume unicorn blood as a human was not a thing to be done lightheartedly and without need. A part of Tristan was also aware that abused unicorns had been brought on to level four a few months ago.

Abused for their blood, by a witch the Ministry happened to be hunting. And here, an innocent lamb going around asking for it.

They might be taking her more seriously now, but she was not landing on their good sides, obviously. How could she patch things up? Did they want her to take them more seriously? Nemo turned to lean forward on her elbow so her back was to the bar and her front facing the young one.

"I don't ... need it need it. It's ... a present. For someone."

Inside she was trying not to freak out about the 'sold for coin alone' comment. Like, what could that possibly mean besides the obvious. Her five year plan included going outside ever and hanging out with mortals so yeah, um, her soul or whatever was not on the table.

"What are you worried about?" she mumbled a little petulantly. "What's this going to take?"

She didn't want to make the first move in a negotiation. She'd already offered money and they hadn't run her off. Yet. So maybe there was still room to wiggle?

That the 'purchase' was not for her own consumption made the witch sound even more suspicious. Terry was sipping his drink, laughing into it as Tristan narrowed his gaze at her. He nudged his friend's foot, their long legs mingling below the table. A part of him wondered if they were too old to be humouring youths. Another, certain that nobody was ever too old for it.

"A strange present, non?" he murmured. "And do you know your friend's intentions?" Tristan continued not to bother answering her other remarks, with the ease of someone pretending to have a good in-demand. He knew she was throwing up a front but this wasn't like buying a bag of gillyweed.

He was about to say as much when the other vampire nudged back, setting down his empty glass.

           "What's your name, lil sprog?" Terry asked and licked the blood from his lips. "Give me your wrist," he extended his hand, palm up, casual.

Nemo chanced a look at the other one. Was he laughing at her? Well, that was unsettling. She swallowed a shiver and turned back to answer the question.

"No. It's a surprise. It's a present. Presents are surprises."

Silly question. But the interrogation was starting to give her second thoughts if the unicorn blood was worth it (or safe) to be handling. On the other hand, the more everyone played up how terrible it was, the more it seemed the perfect thing to impress Draco Malfoy and solidify her claim that she could get anything she wanted from anyone.

The one called Terry spoke to her and she drew back from his hand. A chill went down her spine, and was suddenly so spooked that she shut her mouth tight, shook her head and hid her hands under the table. Nemo was now suspecting this was the cost. She might've just up and left right then if she wasn't frozen. And just a little curious.

No name offered, no specifics given. What Tristan saw was a risk - or someone who was willing to involve this vampiric establishment in criminal activity without risking themselves. Mortals. They never understood that the cost was higher for his kind. The Ministry would persecute Terrence much more strictly than they would a wix. Existing with their natural habits was a danger.

"You should leave."

Slowly but noticeably, the servers and staff in the bar came to a quite halt. Their dead gazes were drawn to the booth. The other human patrons were confused but they hardly dared to move.

Terry's smile darkened as he turned his hand around to lay his palm flat against the table. This was his coven and Tristan had just issued an order to someone under its roof. It was a social faux pas between vampires. He glanced at Tristan, who furrowed his brow apologetically.

            "My friend has a point." Terrence finally spoke, which was a relief for his underlings. "Go. You aren't welcome here any longer, girl."

Nemo's face fell and she looked around the room as everyone fell silent. What had felt like cat and mouse before was now very truly more of a wolves' den. Not Welcome, Girl.

"No!" she hissed and almost threw both her fists out onto the table, on either side of his hand. He'd turned it over. Offer revoked. She'd fucked up.

"My name's Nemo and I work for Draco Malfoy," she whispered rapidly.  "I just want a little. Don't kick me out. I'm useful. I can do things."

She was afraid of the vampires, but more afraid of failing. And more afraid of them than Draco. Nemo leaned in more, and looked back at the younger one. "Please. I won't tell anyone where I got it. Nobody knows I'm here."

Oh god oh god oh god. Nemo's eyes settled again on Terry's and didn't break.

Tristan absorbed her name and details, prepared to keep an ear out for anything relevant should he hear gossip from level two about the lakehouse crimes. It might be a dead end but it might also be useful to the aurors - and God knew he was better off encouraging good relations between their floors.

            "I won't tell anyone where I got it. Nobody knows I'm here."

He laughed, catching Terry's eye. The other man shrugged in a manner that granted permission for him to do what they should have done the moment Nemo marched in asking for unicorn blood.

"Nobody, oui?" Tristan reached into his shearling jacket and drew out his Ministry pass between two fingers, waving it before her eyes. "I know you are here, mademoiselle, but I can pretend I did not see anything if you leave this establishment as soon as is humanly possible."

           "And don't come back," Terrence added as he greedily reached for Tristan's drink. It wasn't long to go before the new moon, when their hunger would peak.

"And don't come back," Tristan repeated softly. "Please."

They laughed at her again. The one in charge was blowing her off.  Her eyes went wide when the strangest, most unexpected thing happened: the younger one produced a Ministry of Magic badge. The whole time she'd been reassuring them she wasn't a cop, but he'd been ... the whole time ...

Now, anger and embarrassment were mixed with the heart-beating fear. She swore to herself and scowled as she took her wrists back and scrambled out of the booth.

"You guys suck," she hissed, in her adolescent wrath unaware of the pun. Nemo paused at the end of the table, where she'd stood when she'd arrived. There was nothing she could do about it. She'd taken a chance and mentioned Draco's name and a Ministry person had heard it. It was all blown.

Nemo took a few more shaky angry breaths as she backed away. Then she turned and strode away, banging all the doors she could on her way out. "Dicks! she shouted at the last second.

             "You guys suck," she accused the pair.

If there had been tension in the bar earlier, this statement successfully diffused it as the other vampires and patrons echoed Tristan's own laugh. He had not been wrong - Nemo was très mignonne even in her very juvenile anger. They were not fussy about their clientele at the Camden Town Hookers but vague teenagers were not the target audience.

At her final parting word, Terrence finished his second glass of blood and slammed it on the table with a grin. "You drank my share," Tristan stated playfully and peered at the empty glass with a mock frown. "Very cruel, Terry."

           "Yea, yea. You know wot I'm really itching to drink right now?"
"Please do not say an angry witch named Nemo."

Hook kicked his shin under the table, another flash of teeth. "Nah," he looked over his shoulder and gestured at the barmaid. "Unicorn blood. I think we deserve it."