Date: 10th January 2002 Location: Muggle London Characters: Barty Crouch (formerly Jr) and Artemis Laidlaw
Each pull of breath was sharp, a tight push against the fullness of his lungs. Barty tugged his collar upwards to cover his mouth and breathed through his nose. He watched his exhaled breaths rising against the hazy colours of shadow and street-light. The tip of his boot caught a muggle drinking can and sent it skittering into the quiet road. Even the quiest scuff could be deafeaning in a quiet street, the padding steps of a cat could alert your heightened senses. These noises did not attract Barty's attention, he was quite distracted as he walked.
His clothes were simple - unfortunately muggle - but suited to their job. He wore black trousers, a jacket and beneath a shirt that was (according to the fitter) "one shade darker than cream". His boots were new; polished but not to fault. You couldn't walk around muggle London looking too rich. He made certain to be a little crumpled around the edges; well dressed student, rather than young businessman. Regardless, there was always someone who wanted to rob you of something, regardless of how poor you looked. Barty hadn't really chosen his clothing for this sort of security though, rather the sort that inclined policeman to regard young gentlemen strolling the streets in the small hours to be 'up to something', echoing the thinking of wizarding aurors across the globe. Night was a time for the criminal, the lover, and the drunk. It was the last of these that Barty intended to employ, to confund any over-inquisitive muggles.
The results he and Bella had discussed had been re-created flawlessy. It had almost been a monument to the memory of themselves. One corner of his mouth lifted into a dreamy sort of smile, and he looked down at the pavement, carefully dodging the refuse of a Friday nights revelry.