Every time Tara came into the shop, she expected the worst. It operated in a grey zone -- as long as almost nothing was on display except worthless plastic amulets and smelly incense, most of the time Umbridge and her goons let it be.
But that was only most of the time. There'd been a couple bad days over the last few years
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She pushed the door open and sauntered in like she belonged there (which was just true of wherever she chose to be at the moment, naturally). "Knock knock," she singsonged.
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She kept asking, even though she could almost tell by looking that the imperio curse still held.
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Moment over, though. She made a show of scanning the contents of the shelves for anything untoward, then moved over to lean against some shelves. "How are things?" she asked. "Pretty quiet and boring so far, I hope." The words were casually conversational. The undercurrent was not.
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"Tara! How is your day going how is business can we talk ordering things maybe?"
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