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𝕾ighing gently, rolling the sleeve of my darkened robe up, I checked the time of my watch, then sharing a side glance with the witch besides me, her nose crinkling at the thought of twisting her ankle on the cobbled stone.
I'd reluctantly left bright and early this morning, ignoring the powerful desire in my bones to crawl back underneath the blanketed covers where Remus and Maple were snoozing away, our little veela tucked between his draped painted arm and chest, parted lips ghosting her head. Truly, a precious sight.
He'd undoubtedly be pissed I've gone without his knowledge when he wakes, but there's a glittering hope that when he realises Scarlette's with me too, he can trust we'll both be on constant vigilance and safe in the deserted streets of Diagon Alley. If not, he would just have to understand in his own time, this was an overriding meeting, one only I could go to with an exception of the Slytherin tagging along.
Scarlette looped her arm around her best friend's, the both of them journeying towards the Leaky Cauldron, head's slightly bowed to cover their identities as much as possible — Willow's unique appearance was after all, quite unforgettable, they didn't want to be getting into other business besides the one they were there for. She didn't know much as of yet, just who they were briefly meeting, she knew she had the uttermost faith in her, and knew that she'd only do what is necessary.
Still, nerves jittered in her stomach, preparing herself in a protective mode Remus would be glad for in case something unexpected did happen.
Tapping the bricks to enter the small, walled courtyard which could also be an entrance to the alley, we stepped into the open pub, politely declining breakfast from the head wizard, heading straight towards the cloaked figure in one of the cornered booths.
"My sweetheart....The bane of my existence"
Scarlette smiles sickly sweetly towards her greeting from the familiar low voice, scooting into the seat besides me, opposite him. I snorted compulsively, locking gazes with the dulling grey eyes with fading tints of blue and green — once lively and entrancing. The look of exhaustion was evident, creases in his forehead, pale complexity with the exception of the purple that paints under his eyes.
Theodore Nott was clearly not enjoying the 'high life' death eaters were currently revelling in.
My gaze drifted downward to his riding up sleeve, right forearm on show with the unmistakable figuration of an unbreakable vow there. Both forearms taken for their own, the inked dark mark on the other, hidden from sight.
Rubbing my lips together, I rolled my eyes at the smirk still twisting onto his lips, wondering, "How's that little one of yours?"
Scarlette turned to us both in surprise, processing the knowledge of him also having a young child with the witch he was arranged to be married to. Though, as she probably thought about it more there was little shock, even in these times when death eaters believe they're ruling the world, they are still pureblood supremacists wanting to continue their bloodline.
