The streets and rooftops of Hogsmeade were blanketed in white-symbolic of a fresh, unspoiled beauty to most.  Others saw the fall as the beginning of the year's death and the winter's snow as its grave.  Nero Donovan Monroe chose to believe in both views.  Death, beauty, and renewal were all tangled together in his own reality.  There was no remorse for the loss of life, only appreciation for what was gained.

Though such somber, sobering thoughts were not more atypical anywhere than here at Zonko's Joke Shop.  Perhaps in an attempt to gain a little levity, another Monroe was not too far from Nero's watchful gaze.  The twisted assassin lingered in the shadows that he'd made his second home.  Stealth was absolutely essential to a killer for hire and Nero was very comfortable in his chosen profession.  There were probably few people in the world that were more dissimilar than Leon Monroe and his Uncle Nero...

Leon Monroe was a good boy. He had high positions at Hogwarts, he kept his robes clean and proper, his fingernails cut, his grades high. He would never, never think of pulling a practical joke on an unsuspecting victim, he would never harm a fly. But as he stood outside Zonko's Joke Shop, people bustling in and out of it, he was afraid people would think he was a hooligan. He didn't want to step inside the store. He didn't want people judging him. Nor did he want people to think he was spying on the hooligans, which was also a possibility. Which Leon would never do. He was too nice, too good-hearted. Leon was a good boy! He didn't have to go into the store... He could go somewhere else... The store was bad and Leon was not. He was in quite a predicament.

In short, Leon didn't typically go to Zonko's Joke Shop. It simply wasn't his style. But when he learned of a sale on sugar-quills, he was quite tempted. Honeydukes didn't have a sale... And Leon enjoyed saving his coins, being the brilliant boy he was. Bundled up in a black sweater, Ravenclaw scarf with a matching hat, and fuzzy socks that remained unseen underneath his black slacks and polished shoes, the boy was beating the cold. He was used to it, participating in Quidditch definitely helped that. He was a keeper, so he had to sit around a whole lot while everyone else zoomed around and worked up a sweat. He stepped into the shop, hesitantly, and slowly edged over to the sweets.

His eyes glanced up and down the boxes. He wanted to get out of there, quickly, but he knew from experience that if he rushed, he'd grab the wrong type of candy-quill, and might end up with frogs coming out of his mouth or his tongue lighting on fire. Zonko's products made Leon wary of the store long ago. He wasn't about to end up in the Hospital Hut because of his mistake. Once he found the normal, sugary kind, he grabbed a small pack, eyed the students who were crowding the store, and began to make his way through it to the checkout line. The sight of the crowd made Leon even more nervous. What were those students planning? Being Head Boy, he had to pay close attention now. A Gryffindor passed by him with newly-bought dung-bombs. A nervous squeak escaped Leon's lips. This was awful.

He nervously looked around, making sure no one was judging him. But then... He thought he saw someone watching him... From one of the corners of the store. He took a double-take... There was no one there. The possibility of Nero Monroe being there hadn't sprouted into Leon's mind. He was focused on more important things. He didn't usually worry about his assassin-Uncle. He shook his head. Leon was worried it was someone important, such as a Professor, who had spotted him. But the only Professors he knew of that would be hiding in shadows would either be Bombay or Morgan. Both of them Leon would not like judging him harshly.

Leon looked up and down the line. It wasn't too long, but he wouldn't be leaving quickly. He tapped his foot, anxiously. He wanted out of there. The shop was bad news. He felt like a criminal. He should just drop the quills and leave... But they were only twenty-five knuts... For a whole pack of them! And Leon couldn't deny he had a sweet tooth. He didn't eat candy often, since it was bad for the body, but it was nice to have them around. He looked around again. Leon still felt like he was being watched... Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

The truth was that Leon's paranoia was well founded.  However, his hidden watcher could not have been more far removed from Morgan or Bombay.  Nero was clad in an olive, button up shirt which was elaborately styled in a military fashion with various badges and straps along the canvas-esque material.  It was rather ironic considering his completely undisciplined style.  A pair of grey carpenter jeans and black boots didn't seem nearly so contradictory on him.  However the most remarkable thing about this peculiar individual was the thick, black head scarf that flowed down in the cool winter breeze, leaving only his eyes and the bridge of his nose exposed.  However...when Leon exited the store, Nero approached from around the side.

"It has been too long...hasn't it my nephew?"

At this point Nero lowered the scarf from his face and allowed it to hang more loosely.

"Yet I would not expect to find you here, of all places...and in Hogsmeade, no less?"

His deep blue eyes chillingly analyzed the younger man as he canted his head on a slight angle.  Nero hadn't always been this way, but his family had seen a difference years before his arrest and 3 year stint in Azkaban.  There had been discussion of a curse or an unfortunate spell misfire, but no answers had ever been found.  It seemed all the Monroes had distanced themselves from the black sheep of the family...and with good reason.