Who: James Potter What: He'd told Remus that he'd finish up scoping out Diagon for the Marauders Map and he's going to keep the promise. Where: Etoile. The most expensive jewelry shop in Diagon. When: Late Tuesday morning, March 10, 2009 Status/Warnings: Finished and bad language Note: Took a risk roll for this, fyi. :)
Etoile.
The name sounded French and for James that was more than enough reason to hate the place. There weren't many shops in Diagon he'd never ventured in-- actually, this could very possibly be the only one-- but he was here now. He had to be here now. He'd promised Remus a week ago he'd get to it and he hadn't and now Remus was dead and it seemed like a pretty twatish thing to leave the one thing his friend had asked him to do in the last week undone.
He had the cloak, which kept him hidden, but even more conveniently kept the fucking tears hidden. If James had his way he might not take the cloak off for a week. Maybe he'd just never take it off. Maybe he and Lils and Elvendork could all live under the cloak and none of them would ever have to come out. So it was irrational? Life made no sense anymore anyway.
The door opened and James slipped in unnoticed. He ignored the sign that proclaimed the shop unwelcoming to muggleborns. Lily would hate this fucking place anyway. It was pink, very pink, unfortunately pink, and the scent of perfume was nearly overwhelming. It burnt James's eyes and made them water which wasn't such a bad thing since he could now pretend he wasn't a complete ponce for sobbing his way through this fucking mission. If it hadn't been for his promise to Moony he wouldn't be bothering. More thoughts of Remus... more tears... lovely.
He had a small sketch pad in his pocket and he began to draw what he saw, peeking in the few side rooms and stopping at a ledger that had been left out on a desk. Name after name popped out from the list, next to a date and exorbitant amounts of galleons.
Malfoy Purist twat Malfoy Lestrange Purist twat Chevalier Lestrange Black
His eyes scanned to the bottom.
M. Lestrange - Tenth of March, 1980 - 8 am. - Emerald Bracelet
Marius Lestrange had been here. This morning. To buy an emerald bracelet. To what? Celebrate killing Remus? He'd murdered one of his best friends and then sat around thinking of jewelry. He'd spent enough to feed a small city for it when Remus and Marlene had sacrificed so they could buy their wedding rings? What had they gone without or scrimped and saved and now Remus was gone and what did it even fucking matter except James was pretty damn sure that no one was going to kill Astra and send that bracelet back to marius in a fucking vase.
James's vision was blurring and he felt dizzy and sick. Remus was dead. Remus was dead. Remus was dead. He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have attempted anything on his own when every thing seemed so fuzzy. When he was so angry he wanted to pick up a brick and smash it through the glass and--
and he wouldn't even have to. The keys were right there on the counter. The women in the shop were gossiping about the new Minister and their backs were to him. In their arrogance and faith in the new Administration they hadn't even bothered to keep the wards on the case while they stood so close. James reached out for the keys silently and placed them in the lock to the largest display case. It slid open and he swept his hand over the dark green velvet, grabbing every single piece he could. He shoved it in his pocket and grabbed for more. He kept an eye on the women but of course they were unconcerned. They were alone with their pureblooded selves-- safe from the muggleborns and foreign terrorists.
There were diamonds and rubies and emeralds the size of his thumbnail attached to thick gold chains, and rings and bracelets and brooches. He didn't care. He was taking it all. His pockets were full and he began shoving what was left into his socks. The entire case was empty and those dumb twats hadn't even glanced back toward him. He slid the case closed again, turned the lock, replaced the keys where he'd found them and crept toward the door.
He was four steps away from the entrance when he heard a soft plink as a chain fell from his pocket and hit the top of his shoe before sliding to the floor.
Fuck.
The women didn't look up though and continued their chatter even as an opal necklace appeared magically on the floor. Seeing the exit so close now, James lunged for it, not worrying that it would seem strange that the door would fly open on its own. It might tip them off but he didn't care now? He had the cloak. He had no idea how much what he'd taken was worth and he ought to feel guilty but he didn't. He was afraid to use the Apparition point now, who knew if they were being tracked or not, so he headed for muggle London instead, feeling his cheeks burn with exhileration. When he thought he was safely on his own he ducked into an alley, and concentrated hard as he popped away home.