What The Shopkeeper Saw

The shopkeeper discreetly observed the woman that had just entered his shop. Oh, she was a powerful witch, there was no doubt about it, she seemed to glide rather than walk, her whole body movements screaming confidence and superiority. 'Probably an arrogant pure blood' he thought to himself bitterly, polishing the stone that lay in his hand with vigor, but he continued to observe her nonetheless, she was not what one would typically describe as beautiful, but she was stunning in her own right, interesting to look at, to wonder about.

She was medium height, and although her body was naturally curved, her face contrasted dramatically, the protruding cheekbones rather gaunt compared to the rest of her features. She had lovely eyes though, a deep brown colour; they were not the eyes of an innocent soul, but rather eyes of one who had experienced life, through the good moments and the bad. Her lips were rather thin, but they were outlined in rouge, making them appear fuller, and the brightness complimented the paleness of her face. She was clothed only in black, black flowing skirts, an intricate black belt, and a rather plain black top that matched well with the rest of her clothing. Completing the outfit were her boots, they were leather, high-heeled boots, and they tapped rather irritatingly on the hard wooden floorboards, almost like a catchy chorus of a song.

He could not help but wonder about this unusual woman. What was her name? How old was she? Where did she live? Usually he could read people like a book, sense facts about them from the way they talked and moved, their body language and posture, hell, he could tell people facts that they hadn't even known about themselves. Not with this woman though, she was a mystery, a complete mystery, as unreadable as a book without words. From what he could sense, the guarded woman intended to keep it this way.

Suddenly, the sound of the bell jingling merrily above the door, dragged him out of his thoughts, and in walked someone who was completely different from the other. Fresh-faced and pretty, her expression oozed youth and innocence, whilst her body language held a sense of secrecy and pain. Fantastic, another unreadable one. He was surprised when the first woman, the woman he had rendered in his head as voiceless, cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Well, well, well, of all the people to bump into in Knockturn Alley…" she murmured, letting her voice trail off into a sharp silence. The younger witch moved closer to the elder, and the shopkeeper could tell straight away, just by the way their bodies interacted with each other, that they had quite a colourful history.

"Mrs. Lestrange, a pleasure, as always" the younger one snarled. Her tone was painted heavily with bitterness and sarcasm…but the shopkeeper felt, for just a moment, that there might have been a hint of truth in the statement.

Just a slither of truth, a dime, but truth. 'They' he thought to himself, beginning to polish the stone once more with fierce concentration, 'enjoy each other's company more than they let on'. Sighing to himself, he felt his crinkled eyes grow slightly watery, it was such a shame, to see pride win over love, Merlin knows he had seen enough of that already.