#thread;alice

No doubt the Borgins and Burkes would be very pissed to learn that Aurors had entered the shop while no one was around - legally, of course. And absolutely, strategically, on this particular night when they'd all be getting drunk for their spoiled daughter. Currently, Ted and Alice were rifling around, searching for a crown with reportedly powerful properties, which was stolen from a Muggle museum. Someone had tipped them off, claiming it was hidden here. The Order had also alerted that You-Know-Who knew about the crown and would likely want it for himself.

So here they were, avoiding curses while examining the surroundings. Ted was on-edge. He loved Alice and trusted her abilities completely. But she was pregnant and gave him heart failure every time she reached for objects that could be dangerous. After the fifth scare, he breathed through his cheeks and turned to her exasperatedly.

"Alice, dear-" Pushing a creepy stuffed Erkling back into its spot on a shelf, he pleaded, "- could you stick to the less deadly objects? If you touch one more thing, I might end up hyperventilating in St Mungo's."

Since Rabastan's return to good health, the shop had been busier than usual. Emmeline had done an exquisite job covering everything alone, on top of her work for the Ministry. But there were simply some families who preferred to deal with Rabastan, and upon hearing of his return they had flooded him with various items and other requests for his attention. It was somewhat flattering, but irking nonetheless. Rabastan's time was limited. He wanted to be catching-up with his work for the cause, not lingering in the store for hours upon hours. But he did not complain, and merely applied himself until his desk began to clear of tasks.

It was on such a typically busy afternoon that he sat in the front, having just returned an heirloom to the Travers' heir. As he followed the sight of the man leaving, a figure struck his eye outside the window. Alice Longbottom. Eyes narrowing, he remained in the front for a while longer, discreetly observing her while he turned through a copy of the Daily Prophet with fictitiously distracted attention. His suspicion was alert. But, in truth, it was not because she was an auror; it was because she was married to Frank. That man acutely riled his patience.

Rabastan had managed to secure a precious moment of quiet. Currently lingering in a small courtyard off the Atrium, he paced languidly across the stone path. The chill of the evening air was a welcome contrast to the warmth inside the Ministry. It cut across his skin, the wind refreshing and cruel in the same scathing breath. He didn't mind the cold. It may have been spring, but it seemed that message had not yet reached the evenings.

As he walked, the sound of his steps resounded dryly from the surrounding walls, the noise of mindless chatter soon left delightfully behind. His gait conveyed intrinsic arrogance; a natural entitlement gifted by his birthright. There were a few others milling in the open air, but not enough to make it unpleasant. So when another person approached along the narrow path, he stepped aside without annoyance, allowing them to pass while his eyes hovered their features to quietly identify them.