The first time Alastar had met Lothario d'Aubigne had not been a face-to-face encounter but a meeting with confederates of his, who had then relayed of what the job would entail and the specifics that only he need know. Petty crime, it was not, as Lothario was one of the big players from a family that were renowned to have dealings in organised crime on both sides of the globe. The wealth of many purebloods have been ill-gotten, or so accused the Ministry, although it would’ve been insulting to say that such financial luxury was something which looked after itself. Although they may only have met around four times in the whole five years Alastar had been an accomplice, he felt somewhat loyal to the man for his decency in looking after him whenever he were in a monetary rut. They hadn’t reached the point of seeing each other casually through any manner of friendship but like many operating within the black market, it was likely Lothario would prefer to keep contact to a minimum whilst the eye of the Minister was cast over him.

The only complication from Lothario’s stealth within the criminal community was trying to find him and despite going through his network of men, he was none the wiser of where or when to catch Lothario at a convenient time. Some had said he had returned to Italy on business, which may or may not have been the truth, however as things stood, Alastar could not afford to investigate any further in such desperate circumstances. The last few days, after Jarvis failing to show up with work and the length of time quibbling over whether or not to go to Lothario, had only hindered any chance Alastar had of generating money at such short notice. With no patience left, or time to hang off for a while longer, he had sent an owl to the man himself requesting a visit away from the prying eyes of the Aurors in London. An owl had returned with word that one of Lothario’s men would then meet Alastar with a time and place; better to pass instructions through word of mouth for the sake of privacy.

It was raining particularly heavily on a Saturday evening, when Alastar reached the secret location, and huddled underneath the stony front of a small building he couldn’t quite read the sign of. He had had plenty of time awaiting Lothario to observe small features such as the stained glass windows which were fogged up to further obscure what was inside and the number ‘66’ on the metal, bolted door. It was one corner of London that Alastar had never come across before, which would’ve put any man out of his depth if he hadn’t a wand to rely upon and the street smarts of a wizard who had lived in the big city for years now.

With a sharp tilt, Alastar whispered ‘lumos’ to illuminate his wand and took out a poorly folded Daily Prophet from his pocket. The headlines were littered with scandal, although it had to be said when it came to any mention of the Ministry, the paper was strangely gentle. It was of course the duty of the Prophet to write as much dog vomit as it could about the people who were keeping the wizarding world afloat nowadays. With a half-inked quill, Alastar began to scribble down possible bets for the quidditch on the weekend, on everything from goals to the first seeker to catch the snitch.

Lothario was not a muggle lover by any means. He mostly found muggles to be beneath him and obnoxious- including muggle born wizards. It was, hoever, quite convenient for him to be familiar with muggle London. Many of those he worked through lived in Muggle London and it was a good place to meet away from the prying eyes of the ministry and the possibility of being recognized. Being a notable figure of London society made it difficult to meet with other witches and wizards without somebody taking notice. This was why he often worked through others, using them to deliver messages and negotiate terms and take care of the light dirty work for him. That was just how business went for Lothario when it was of a less than legal nature.

He was in the business of taking small time criminals and aiding them with getting bigger and better jobs. He found they worked for less pay, and were often more effective. Professional crooks were pricey, and Lothario preferred to keep his money in his Gringotts vault whenever possible.

Alastar ó Dálaigh was Irish- much like his beloved cousin, Liadan. He had aided the man in finding some jobs, and had never been disappointed with results. Rarely did he meet one on one with someone who wasn't an important part of his operation. He was a busy man. Lothario had a gallery to run and a philanthropic facade to maintain. The owl he had received had taken him off guard- typically the two worked for a middle man. More than likely a middle man who liked to skim off the top as far as payment was concerned. Perhaps the man was tired of not having a direct line to the action? It could be. Unfortunately for Alastar, often times Lothario was a middle man himself. People knew that he knew the right people, and he got things done. He took the largest cut of the profit. It was quite lucrative, really.

He was meeting Mr. ó Dálaigh in a less than favorable area of London. People were rarely in the streets at night, and it was the sort of place where a wand would go unnoticed if it was needed to be used.

"How nice of you to be punctual," he commented after he approached, pulling a set of keys from his pocket to unlock the door that the man had earlier been peering at. "Please, come in out of the rain." He pushed it open and ushered Alastar inside. Lothario closed the door and flipped the light switch. Electricity was an interesting thing, an invention he admired. The inside of the building did not match the outside, though. It was well furnished and nice. A common meeting place that Lothario used when doing business in London. "Make yourself comfortable, please," Lothario gestured to one of the arm chairs.

A house elf approached shortly after he had begun speaking, and Lothario crouched down to speak in quiet tones to the creature. Then he removed his coat and sat down, propping his feet up on an ottoman and flicking his wand at the fire place which quickly blazed to life. "I do apologize for having you go out of your way to find me. On occasion is benefits me to work outside of the confines of the wizarding world... Now tell me, Mr. Alastar, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Beads of rain were quickly absorbed by the dry heat circulating within the building and it came as rather a shock when the place lit up so suddenly at the back of Alastar. There was a comfortable amount of seating, some cherry wood tables with mosaic green lamps, everything of fine quality but not obvious of what their purpose was. He would think himself fairly knowledgeable when it came to muggles having grown up closely with many of them but even now there were some items that completely threw him off guard, like snorkels and shoe horns.

There was something about Lothario that gave the impression he could be either a perfect gentleman or dangerous, depending on how you were to relate to him and the latter wasn’t untrue; tales of brutality circulated throughout the minions of the black market just to remind them of the importance of keeping their mouths shut. Tales however were all they may have been as Alastar had never witnessed such things himself never and cared not to entertain those thoughts if he could. In contrast to Lothario, Alastar was dressed with no thought to whether or not he might stand out in a crowd, deciding that his leather jacket over a Hawaiian shirt was nothing eye-catching in the midst of all the colours of London. They weighed in as two entirely different men, but this was purely business and such trivial details didn’t matter.

With his kind beckoning, Alastar approached upon where Lothario was seated and lowered himself on to the chair facing the man. The fire ablaze cast a curious light upon their faces creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere that would warn any intruder that private conversation was happening there. Luckily the only other soul was a house elf, who was of no notice of either of them after being given instructions. "How nice of you to be punctual.” He wasn’t quite sure of whether this was a genuine gratitude or whether it was a warning for any future meetings, however Alastar felt relieved that he had arrived earlier than he had intended.

“The pleasure is mine.” He returned. They both knew Alastar had more cause to be sitting there than Lothario had, for it was usually Lothario who came to Alastar when he required him, not the other way around. “My apologies for stealing you away from your affairs and I realise we have had little reason to deal within the same circles – my line of work is for the most part exclusive my own, dealing in rare ingredients for any concoction you can think of. You must know however that although times are good when they’re good, my business is seasonal, permitting weather and greenhouse conditions.” It had felt wrong to ask the man so blatantly for work without explaining why and indeed, they had a lot to learn about each other, a lot of ground to cover at least on Alastar’s side of things.

“I’m a man on the brink of his late thirties and we both know I’m not going to enter a career in the Ministry, and truth be told, I need something to keep me afloat in between growing and cultivating seasons.” It had become apparent to Alastar that work wouldn’t come for free from anywhere and although he would be taking care of small-time business on behalf of Lothario, Knockturn Alley was rich with witches and wizards who would be only too happy to do the same at a much larger cut in payment.

“I’m aware that you deal in art but I can assure you demand for potions is only on the rise and the small areas of London I work within alone are teeming with custom.” Licking his lips, Alastar leaned towards Lothario without detracting the light from their faces. “Wizarding folk are having their wands confiscated all over the place and hell, some choose not to use them whenever possible. If you’ll forgive me, they’re somewhat old-fashioned in the modern run of things.” If it were possible to open up next to Olivanders, I might even put him out of business. He was putting out a flag for the man although he seemed so Alastar thought, to be listening carefully.

There was no need to beat about the bush. The words had fell smoothly off the Irishman’s tongue not because of his arrogance but because he was actively selling a portion of his business to a man who could either accept or throw Alastar out on his arse without further argument. Taking off his red-tinted sunglasses, Alastar fell back again into the chair and summarised his request: “I didn’t want to drop in on you on the mere matter of scouting for work, Mr d'Aubigne. I wanted to have something to offer you too; ten per cent of my takings per season for the assurance of steady work off-season.”

Lothario summoned an ashtray and a box of cigars, offering on to Alastar before lighting one for himself. "I trust it doesn't bother you if I smoke," He commented, waiting for the man to divulge whatever reasons he had for contacting him directly. He listened as he began to speak of potions ingredients, and talk about himself. No, Alastar was not cut out for the ministry. And if the boy dealt in plant-like ingredients, then Lothario doubted that he could be of any use to his cousin's failing farm.

Lothario allowed his attentiont o be diverted as the house elf returned with a tray of cheese of wine. He stamped out his cigar and poured himself some wine, swirling it in the glass before taking a sip. He motioned for Alastar to help himself. "As far as dealing in potions ingredients, there is more to be had than simple plant ingredients. My dearest cousin, Miss O Morain, is a fine example of this. Her farm harvests animals for use in potions ingredients, wand cores, et cetera. She has recently fallen on hard times, but if you are looking to branch out in that area I have no doubt that she wouldn't mind funnelling a few things my way to be sold at a greater profit." He knew that she had been looking for dragon eggs, but it was not something he wished to state aloud. If he told Alastar that his cousin could get him dragon parts- some of which were incredibly hard to find- he had no doubt that his cousin would have a fit.

"If you are interested in getting involved in the potions business, no doubt you are aware you will have competition. There is at least one witch or wizard that I know of who has a large clientele as far as ministry restricted potions are concerned. Honing in on that business would be a conflict of interests for me. Although, if you are simply talking in circles to get around to the point of asking me for more work- that, we can arrange."

"Wizards without wands have done something to lose them. I have yet to meet a wandless wizard who did not deserve it for some reason or another. I have no interest in re-wanding those wandless wizards if that has a part of what you're speaking of. If the ministry catches a man with a wand who ought not have one, they will wonder where it came from, and I cannot afford to come under their radar for such an offense. I have a gallery to run, after all."

And then came the business proposition. He set his wine glass aside and tilted his head as he inspected the man across from him. He had always done a good job in his work, but Lothario admittedly had no idea what takings he was speaking of or exactly what he was proposing. "The matter of being mysterious does you no favors, Mr. ó Dálaigh. You go from speaking of potions ingredients, to wands, to offering me part of your takings- without clearly identifying what those takings are or what we are speaking of. I cannot make any business decisions without a clearer understanding of exactly what it is you are proposing. You are not a man who generally makes such speeches, I am certain. Practice would do you some good. As it is now, I fear you may be wasting my time. But, since I am a patient man, I will give you the chance to fully explain what you mean instead of dismissing you altogether."

Smoke billowed out of Lothario’s mouth, causing a thick and rank atmosphere that brought back memories of the local pub in Ireland that Alastar so sorely missed. This image evaporated however when the elf toddled back with cheese and wine, which humoured Alastar in a way he didn’t reveal to his company. It was just that he hadn’t realised quite how different he and the man he were addressing were. Alastar had been raised on the simplest of values, with quidditch and the odd camping trip in Cardiff being regarded as a luxury, yet here he was the finest of fine things and a man whose ties probably cost more than his rent for the month.

… there is more to be had than simple plant ingredients. A simple man would’ve found this insulting, however Alastar had expected Lothario to be critical of him. The Ó Móráin operation from what he had assumed of it was vaster than his own, although it had to be said that Alastar too would have liked to branch out if he had both the money and the means to do so. As it stood, he was resigned to the inconvenience of travelling back and forth from Ireland with only the pokiest of apartments in central London as a laboratory.

 It wasn’t wise of Alastar to verbalise of how he had his doubts and anxieties when it came to Lothario’s cousin, so he kept his mouth shut to mull over what was being exchanged. The news of competition within those who brewed illegal potions was not really news at all but never the less left Alastar slightly deflated. Short of bigging up that his plant life was completely organic, he was right out of luck with convincing the man he was missing out on anything he couldn’t get his hands on anywhere else. If he had’ve been Irish, maybe things would’ve been different. With a shrug, he confessed, “You got me.”

I have no interest in re-wanding those wandless wizards if that has a part of what you're speaking of… “Ah, no no, nothing o’that.” Alastar felt he had irritated the Italian somewhat and attempted to clarify. “I was just trying to demonstrate who may be after the quality of potions I supply, but I think we understand each other so far as that chapter.” Lothario was more particular than Alastar had originally imagined although there was no danger in a man trying to protect himself and his interests. If anything, Alastar would do well to take a leaf from the same book, as while Lothario was looking to downsize the risqué criminals in his circle; Alastar was trying to find as many as possible. His protest had however got the point across and forced the man to swiftly move on before the subject could do any more damage.

But, since I am a patient man, I will give you the chance to fully explain what you mean instead of dismissing you altogether." “Forgive me, for you must understand I’m a man of the streets and talking business on such a formal basis isn’t my strong point.” The Irish lilt to Alastar had straightened out a little and although he kept his composure, felt that he ought to go with the bare bones and stick to speaking about what he had come for. It wasn’t always wise to let your wild business fantasies indulge themselves. “Without the confusion of anything other than my original agenda, I came to you for work, Mr d'Aubigne.” That seemed simple enough. And he resisted of asking for more on the Ó Móráin farms.

"Well, depending on your clientele, expanding your potions business could be useful. I presume that you deal locally?" he asked, draining his glass and setting it aside. "I always have people coming to me, looking for rare potions. Depending upon what you brew, how often, and the cost I could always point them in your direction. The only thing I refuse to have part in is any wolfsbane potions. Werewovles are dangerous, disgusting creatures. I would rather they register with the ministry to be properly tracked. That way it does not come back to quite literally bite a man in his bottom."

Lothario was glad to hear the man admit he was not accustomed to discussing business. This was why he had a go-between. Lothario did not always understand the ways or slang of the street, and visa versa. He seemed to rethink his purpose, stating he was around simply to find work. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at Alastar and slowly stood up, walking over the fireplace. He extracted a poker from the rack next to it, and absent mindedly stoked the fire for a few moments. "I am certain I can find a job for you, Mr. ó Dálaigh. Though I must admit I am not certain why, to ask for work, you came straight to me. I will not ask for your reasoning. I am going to assume you were tired fo the middle man taking a cut of the profits. Wise business decision, to eliminate the middle man."

He returned to his seat and poured another glass of wine. "Are you interested in any legal employment?" Lothario asked. "As I am certain you are aware, I do run an art gallery in Diagon Alley. I am always looking for someone to lend around the gallery for heavy lifting... Or to stand about and look important." Lothario made a dismissive gesture. Really, he often hired people to keep on hand in case they were needed for one thing or another, often times getting paid to do mostly nothing. "I am often taking part in fashion shows, having concerts in the auditorium, things of that nature. It is always convenient to have people on staff to aid with lending a hand in setting up. Basically odd jobs around the gallery. I am well aware you likely have little education in the arts, so a museum guide would naturally be out of the question..."

"But it would be a good job to keep. A nice way to allow the public to think that you are interested in reform- or at least, for the ministry to think so. I often employ questionables, and they assume I do good for the world. It could keep you out of trouble, keep you with regular pay, and if I needed you for more nefarious activities you would, of course, be at my disposal..."

Lothario nibbled a bit of cheese, examining the man's reaction to his offer. "Though, if that doesn't suit you- some people aren't cut out for normal jobs, I completely understand that, then I will have to check my current business log to see where I could use your particular area of expertise. Is there a specific pay range you are looking for? If you happen to be in trouble with loan sharks- or anything of the sort- chances are I am good friends with them, and I can aid you there."

”Werewovles are dangerous, disgusting creatures.” Now here was a controversial subject and one that Alastar hadn’t quite the energy to enter into whilst Lothario was discussing the prospect of a steady job. There were few whom he had supplied with the wolfsbane potion, which he had concocted with his very own, personally nurtured and loved, arnica montana. Sadly, Alastar had little choice but to charge a premium price, which did not suit those who relied upon the remedy to contain them from night to night. With an agreeable nod, Alastar said boldly, “I have to agree wit’cheh there.”

To a certain extent, Lothario had wrapped up Alastar’s current situation with the absence of any middle men at all. After quarrelling with the last of his contacts within the potions market, Alastar had effectively closed himself off from anyone he knew of his dealings. He was tired of drifting through life without so much as a return on the countless nights he had spent circling Knockturn Alley, the meetings with potential clients, the failed business opportunities and the feeling that there was too much competition on the streets of London. Thoughts of returning to Ireland on a permanent basis had simmered in his mind for some time now, but to settle for a life of farming would have caused his very soul to wither and die.

"Are you interested in any legal employment?" This was an entirely fair question, for Alastar had a strange, patchy employment history of both criminal and good ol’ working man style jobs. His criminal record hindered any chance of finding a career as a law abiding citizen, and hell, who would’ve wanted that anyway? Back home, Alastar’s father had been a real whiney bitch about settling down and thinking about a family and truth be told, the thought alone made him nauseous.

”A nice way to allow the public to think that you are interested in reform- or at least, for the ministry to think so.” Alastar smiled, revealing two deep slits at either side of his cheeks, whilst he mulled over the idea of being around art. Art, of all things. There was nothing cultured about Alastar. He knew of potions, alchemy and herbology and was a fair flyer but art and creativity was of little interest to him.  “You know and I know that I have nothing to offer besides a strong back and a lot of time to dispose of, but I’d have the luck o’the Irish behind me, Merlin willing.”

There was an atmosphere that seemed to have evolved from one of tension to resolution. The matter, Alastar presumed, was closed and although a small part of him had yearned for Lothario to land him with contacts who would end this era of poverty, he had at the very least come away with the solidity of a job. 

"Though, if that doesn't suit you- some people aren't cut out for normal jobs…” ó Dálaigh bit back a smile at this and then looked serious. “If you’ll forgive me, I know you aren’t running a nursery here, Mr d'Aubigne. I asked for a way to get a steady pay cheque every month, and of that you’ve assured me.” They both knew there was more. “But I’m a man of many capabilities, of which you’ll learn. Especially when it comes to farming and the like.” It was dangerous of him to venture this far but Alastar was feeling as confident as ever by this stage.

Lothario appreciated his honesty. "No, I am not running a nursery, but I find that it is important to take care of those, who in turn, take care of me. It is only logical to prevent oneself from burning bridges. Going out of your way once in a while can reap amazing benefits in the future." When he mentioned that he was a man of capabilities, especially in farming, Lothario quirked a brow.

The Italian was not an idiot. He was well aware that Alastar was digging, perhaps attempting to position himself where he wanted to be, instead of where Lothario wanted to put him. It was an admirable trait in any person he dealt with, a certain level of cautious courage. It allowed Lothario to know more of a man's character, and to understand that they were more than disposable pawns. Pawns were handy, but on occasion, a man needed someone stronger than that for more important and secretive jobs. "I am afraid that a farming position is not one that I would have available at the gallery. Unless you would be interesting in doing some landscaping, making the grounds more pleasing to the eye. We have thought about starting a garden outback. Though, and do forgive any offense Mr. ó Dálaigh, you do not strike me as a man with an eye for decor. Trimming hedges and pulling weeds, certainly, but designing a color palate of flowers pleasing to the eye seems beyond your grasp."

"As I mentioned earlier, and no doubt you have retained the information, my dear cousin Miss Liadan is owner and proprietor of a magical creature farm in Ireland. Recently she has suffered a bit of a set back, and as a result has been downsizing her staff until things pick back up- the smart thing to do financially, you see. The remaining creatures are few and far between, but I am certain she could still use some help in maintaining the grounds. Ensuring that fields and pens do not become overgrown until she can rebuild, things of that nature. If you would prefer such a job, a place to keep you busy and still remind you of home, perhaps I could pull some strings?" Lothario was well aware that Liadan owed him a few favors, but he was still unsure whether or not she would hire someone who was a criminal. Considering the past she had herself. If he offered to sponsor the man, foot the cost, she might be more inclined.

"The farm has a bad reputation in the past, I will not lie about that. And Liadan would be hesitant to hire someone with a criminal record given that past and the common appearance of aurors to ensure things are still running legally... It would require secrecy, on your part. I do not believe she would want you trumpeting about the farm business." Especially if she managed to locate those dragon eggs he had put her in contact with people to find. "How the farm runs now, I am unsure. Whether she hides the illegal business or has truly gone straight. If you happen to see anything out of the ordinary, and you were to tell the wrong people, please have no doubt that you would regret it. There is a time when a man ought not to run his mouth, Mr. ó Dálaigh, for his own safety. This would be one of times."

Lothario called for the house elf, who took the tray of cheese and the wine and empty glasses away. He flicked his wand, sending his cigars back to their usual place. "Those are the only options I have available for now. Perhaps if Miss Liadan takes a liking to you, she might be able to offer you some ingredients to further your potions business. One piece of advice, should you take that route, charming her would be pointless. She is truly a souless, cold-hearted witch. Liadan has no interest in romance, unless you are pure and can offer her substantial amounts of money and an increase to reputation and power. It is typical of women raised in our family. But some people tend to forget their place in our society. I am trusting you are not one of those men.