July 30th - Mid-Afternoon, Diagon Alley

[naught_common]

Theodore had given in to impulse and gone home after meeting Weasley Female by the lake. He’d taken the safety off the dueling dummy and had subsequently spent several hours in simulated combat. When he emerged from the dungeon, bruised and slightly bloody, he had felt infinitely better

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[stoppered_death]

The problem with working off one's frustration, tension and boredom in the Potions lab - even in labs as lavishly stocked as the ones Voldemort had given him - was that it made a hell of a hole in the ingredients.

Simple materials could always be procured by house elves, but as for the more dangerous, rare, complex or delicate ones - the majority of the ingredients he used these days - Snape certainly couldn't trust House Elves not to bollocks things up. Of course, he trusted anything the other Death Eaters would procure for his use, even less.

It left Snape with little choice but to make occasional forays into various Apothecaries. Naturally, he varied his disguise every time. He even altered the methods he used to disguise himself: unpredictable combinations of Polyjuice and other appearance-altering potions, glamours, and even Muggle disguises and prosthetics. Though the latter strategy was certainly the most inconvenient, it was likely to be the last that would occur to his Ever-So-Pureblooded rivals for Voldemort's favour.

So it was that when he walked out of the darkness of the Dark Lord's lair into the afternoon sun of Diagon Alley, he did so as a wispy-looking little woman with a Hermione Granger-esque cloud of mousy-pale hair, draped in enough shawls to vaguely resemble Sibyl Trelawney.

Intent on his 'shopping list' as a vampire on a particularly ruddy throat, as secure in his disguise as someone with his level of paranoia could become, he drifted down the street, headed for Slug and Jiggers.

[naught_common]

Theodore stood for several moments simply watching the crowds pass. Most people seemed to be traveling in pairs or small groups. There was very little small talk and even less laughter. One woman looked at him and crossed the street. Theodore simultaneously thought that that was entirely uncalled for and wondered if he was beginning to resemble his father. He curled his fingers unconsciously around the hem of his sleeves, pulling them further over his hands. His wand slid down his arm, teasing the palm of his right hand.

Standing still in the sunlight while wearing black was not conducive to being inconspicuous. Therefore, Theodore picked a random direction and began walking. He passed Ollivander's dark shop, a pub and Quality Quidditch Supplies. The latter gave him pause, and he stood briefly in front of the window, staring at the latest racing broom as if he was an 11-year-old child again.

[stoppered_death]

One of the multitude of drawbacks to being in disguise was that the crowds certainly didn't part before Snape, pushed back gratifyingly by invisible waves of fear and revulsion, as they always used to do when he was a Professor.

But those days were gone, and would never return again; so now Snape had to resign himself to being buffeted to and fro, forced to weave his much shorter, weaker body in between the passers-by, rather than jabbing his way through with sharp elbows and bony knees.

By the time Snape was bumped aside by a fat man bulldozing his way through to the pub, his never copious supply of patience was wearing decidedly thin. When he rebounded off someone who was actually blocking traffic by standing and gawping like a firstie in a shop-window, for that instant it was all Snape could do not to hex him into internal haemorrhaging without even bothering with word or wand.

Then, through the fluffy fringes of his own borrowed hair, he saw the traffic hazard's face.

Well, well, well, if it isn't Mis-ter Theodore Nott. I wonder what you're doing, slumming around here? Shopping for Draco, perhaps? Aloud, Snape gasped and stumbled in that fluttery way that witches of his borrowed build often used. "Oh, oh oww. My ankle!" He hobbled, one delicate hand flailing for support as he teetered beside Nott.

[naught_common]

People generally avoided coming into uninvited contact with him. Biting back a snarl, Theo looked at the crowd that appeared to have materialized around him. Theodore hadn't realized he was actually creating a hazard. The woman was wailing and he'd been trained to be a gentleman. Bending his arm without thought, Theodore offered it to the teetering witch at his side. Smiling as she grasped him.

"I do apologize," he said, "are you injured?" He looked solicitiously at her and silently wondered who had dressed the woman and if it were possible that she'd lost some sort of bet.

[stoppered_death]

One of the things Snape's long incarceration at Hogwarts had done for him was to give him ample time to observe the flirting techniques and other mannerisms of vapid little chits. So it took no mental effort at all for him to gasp and fold decoratively against Nott's side. "Oh, they shoved me, did you see, it was awful, I think my ankle's broken and I'm simply horrid at healing charms!"

It was just as well that all this occupied only the tiniest fragment of Snape's attention, for inwardly his mind was whirling. Why is Nott here? Very unlike him. But I'll hardly find out anything by just asking him. Is it worth the risk? He kicked himself for not questioning Draco about his boyfriend's capabilities as an Occlumens, and shrugged mentally. If he senses something, I can always just Disapparate...

With the ease of literally decades of practice in casting wordless, wandless Legilimens, Snape met Theo's gaze for just a moment through tear-wet lashes. In that instant he extended the tiniest, stealthiest possible tendril of mental presence. It was the antithesis of the usual Legilimentic attack: the stealthy dip of a pickpocket's fingers, rather than the roar of a cannon to destroy a mental fortress.

[naught_common]

He ended up with an arm around her, holding her up. Theodore would gladly have pointed out, to any interested party, that he was most definitely not holding her against him. No, he hadn't seen anyone shove her. He couldn't exactly blame them. Having the creature glued to his side, however, was fit punishment for the crime of losing himself in trivialities.

"I can do a fair job with ordinary healing charms but I'd not want to risk healing a bone in the street. Can I," he looked up into weepy eyes and suddenly felt a bit light-headed. He shook off the feeling and continued with his thought, "help you to a healer or at least to a chair?" He should have simply left the solicitor's office and gone straight off to torture or otherwise maim the man they'd discussed. It would probably have been more entertaining. "There is a bench just down the way," he offered.

[stoppered_death]

The first cautious dip into the depths behind Nott's eyes was met with exactly what Snape had expected: waves of annoyance/irritation/boredom. At the lack of reaction or realisation, he breathed an (entirely mental) sigh of relief.

In response to that offer, Snape faltered "Y-yes, thank you," in a tremulous treble which could hardly be less like his usual bass grumble. "I should be able to make it that far..." He looked hesitantly from the bench to Nott, and during the fleeting instant of eye contact, he dipped inside again, casting his impalpable magical line after a bigger fish: Draco.

"You're such a gentleman," Snape simpered up at Nott as he started to hobble toward the bench, "Your sweetheart's a very lucky girl." The last phrase was the bait to Snape's legilimentic hook: a cue to prompt Nott to think about his true lover, bring memories of Draco closer to the surface of his mind, where Snape could sense them during his sly, split-second samplings of Nott's thoughts.

[naught_common]

Theo refrained from rolling his eyes. He'd had people flirt with him before - far more appealing people. There was absolutely no way he was going to return the favor. He got a picture of blond hair in his mind's eye, which he immediately banished. His lover was far away. "Not a common opinion, but thank you." He remembered laughing with Hermione. Life was a funny thing. Perhaps he'd previously had a female repelling charm placed on him? He wondered how to get it back.

Theo supported the woman's weight until she reached to the bench. "Would you like me to look at it?" He knelt near her and waited, wondering even as he did so why he had this sudden solicitous urge. Surely there was someone else who could assist her.

[stoppered_death]

Snape's momentary glimpse inside Nott's thoughts landed him a flash of sleek hair - a very familiar, very distinctive platinum blond - but it was so brief: nothing more than confirmation of what Snape already knew. "Oh now, I'm sure that's not true, she'd have to be the topic of universal envy." Snape gave Nott a watery half-smile, as if attempting to put a brave face on pain. He glanced ruefully from one temporarily-tiny foot - clad in a soft suede knee-boot - to Nott's face, sending another swift probe inward even as he sighed, "You're welcome to, though I don't know how much you can see in this." The drape of the handkerchief-skirt shifted, revealing a glimpse of leg: matchstick-slim and as pale as a china doll's.

[naught_common]

Theo wondered if he could break that tiny limb with his hands. He wouldn't, of course, but the universal envy comment was a bit much. Theodore was not fond of being mocked. "Actually, madam," the title might have held just a bit of acid, "I prefer men." Man. One particular man. For some reason he suddenly thought how sweet Draco had looked licking green cotton floss off of...

Theo was not going to think of Draco while he contemplated touching this creature. The boot was butter soft. Rather than removing it he ran his hands gently over it. "I don't want to take this off, because if you have injured your ankle enough to swell then we'll not get it back on." There was no obvious muscular response, although the woman carried on a bit. He next cast a freezing charm on hands and pressed them to the ankle so that the cool would pass through the leather. "Would you like me to cast a stiffening spell on the boot? It would keep your ankle secure and provide support until you could reach an actual healer."

[stoppered_death]

Snape winced inwardly at the flash of rather lurid memory of Draco; he used the reaction, channelling it into an outward wince as Nott handled his ankle. "-ow... I expect that'd be the best thing, thank you."

At a level far below his false face, Snape was annoyed: at Nott and his profoundly predictable hormonal reactions, but far more so at himself for wasting his precious time prying into Nott's mind after secrets that might not even exist. One last try, Snape promised himself, then I'll give up on this and maybe even get to Slug and Jiggers sometime today.

A demure smile at Nott from under mousy-brown eyelashes. "...Very kind of you."

[naught_common]

Theo concentrated on the charm, but it wasn't a hard one. His eyes wandered, focusing on the crowd. A shock of white-blond hair caught his attention and he froze. Not Draco. Draco was safe and far away from here. Theo knew full well that Snape would as soon kill him as look at him, but Snape would take care of Draco.

Theodore looked briefly up at this strange woman before looking back at the foot in his hands. "I am not often accused of being kind." Memories of Draco flitted through his mind and he thought briefly of how nice it was to be able to have a conversation with someone rational. He looked up again - something the antithesis of this person. "Better?" he asked.

[stoppered_death]

The currents of Nott's thoughts shifted, bringing a sudden shoal of memories pouring past Snape's stealthy Legilimentic probe. Unfortunately, since Snape wished to keep his efforts undetected, this meant that he couldn't pursue any individual memories, couldn't even try to lengthen the glimpses he got. So he was left with an overall impression, conveyed in flashes of emotion, angry faces and raised voices.

An impression of Nott arguing with Draco. An intensely jealous Nott. Intensely jealous, of Potter!

It took all of Snape's ice-cold control, ingrained by the brutal necessities of decades of spying, to keep the sudden spike of his own angry apprehension from showing. Instead, he nodded in a cascade of brown fluff and gave Nott a particularly vacuous smile. "Much, thank you! I'll just sit here and rest for a little while longer, and I should be able to get by after that. If only all wizards were so gallant as you." He extended one slender hand, palm down, simpering in a way that indicated he expected said hand to be kissed in farewell.

[naught_common]

The pain in behind his eyes was unexpected. Theodore blinked. It must be that he was spending too much time inside, out of the light. A moment passed before he tuned back in to the woman. He had no idea what she's said. Fortunately, he didn't care.

There was a hand in his face. No, Theodore, you may not hex the woman... in public. Instead he stood, took the hand, and kissed it. "Good day to you," he said politely, looking at her one last time before turning quickly away.

[stoppered_death]

Snape waited until Nott was well and truly out of sight, then waited a little longer, before collecting himself and limping down the street - slightly enough not to draw fresh attention, convincingly enough to look realistic in the vanishingly remote chance that Nott had doubled back, Disillusioned, or had delegated someone else to watch him.

From there it was a pleasantly-uneventful trip to Slug and Jiggers. The shadows were lengthening by the time Snape returned to the Dark Lord's lair, along with a trove of shrunken ingredients, and a truly heartfelt dislike for all the world's fluttery little airheads.