WHO: Severus Snape and Merope Gaunt WHAT: A meeting between the two. WHEN: Late night WHERE: The streets of L.A. RATING: TBD STATUS: In Progress
Even with, or perhaps because of, the constant threat of the Dark Lord hanging over their heads, Severus had been brewing various potions as steadily as he would have were he back in his dungeons of Hogwarts. Along with the supply of Wolfsbane he regularly made for Remus Lupin, he also had several healing draughts and an extremely healthy supply of the numbing salve meant to stave off the agony of the Dark Mark still burning upon his flesh. It would keep on burning, he knew, until he answered the call, so it made sense with the slow pace that Gryffindors tended to react to situations to have quite a bit of the salve on hand so he could enjoy however long their indecision might take in relative pain-free peace.
Still, for all of his brewing and as much as it did help him keep a clear and focused mind, there was one problem with his plan. The more potions he brewed, the more ingredients he needed. Which meant having to leave the safety of the Weir to gather some. Normally this thought would put him in a relative foul mood even on the best of days, but with the Dark Lord lurking about, and Dementors roaming the skies, it was fairly safe to say that his mood as he stalked past the gates of the building was well beyond foul.
The bad mood carried him all the way to the small, out of the way shop he'd discovered during his last foray into the city. The place offered very little in the way of flashy magic trinkets that the Muggles seemed to find so fascinating, and instead specialized in various herbs and other things which, while easy to find in any Apothocary in Wizarding Britain, were near impossible to locate in this laughingstock of a city.
While waiting for the owner to find the answer to a question he'd asked about a particularly difficult to find ingredient, Severus browsed the rest of the shop. It wasn't until he heard the chime above the door sound that he looked up from the shelves, black gaze sliding to the doorway as he studied the young woman who had just arrived. There was something... oddly familiar about her, although he couldn't immediately place it, and turned his attention back to the shelves rather than try to puzzle it out. If she knew him, she'd approach. If not, she likely wouldn't the nerve. Very few - Muggles especially - were willing to approach him. Of course, given his attire (his typical black robes) as well as his expression (his usual sneer) it was no real surprise.