What Price? - February 28th, 2009 [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
What Price?

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February 28th, 2009

A Ravenclaw and a Slytherin go to lunch [Feb. 28th, 2009|10:29 am]
whatprice
[acrophile]
[Tags|, , ]

Who: Adrian Pucey and Morag MacDougal
What: Business lunch
When: Fall 2008
Where: A cafe in Muggle London

I've had to go to--mundane equivalents for certain requirements. )
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...it's winter again, a white-washed and frozen sky, I came to the door, eyes maladjusted... [Feb. 28th, 2009|11:13 am]
whatprice
[legally_minded]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Location |Knightsbridge, London]
[Current Mood |sad]
[Current Music |"Winter's Passing" - TAI]

Who: Chris and Belvideria Warrington
What: Some meticulously organised memories.
When: Late December, 2008.
Where: Adrian's townhouse, Knightsbridge.
Rating: G

I’m going to go to Hogwarts, right Papa? )
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Backstory: Cho Chang and Charlie Weasley [Feb. 28th, 2009|05:15 pm]

whatprice

[troubledwater]
[Tags|, , ]
[Current Mood |hopeful]

Who: Cho Chang and Charlie Weasley
What: In which an offer of assistance is made and accepted.
Where: St James' Park
When: An evening in the spring of 2008

Oh, you mean that there's some secret organisation inside or partially inside the government conducting secret activities that may or may not be in line with the actual objectives of the government, or may be orthogonal to it? Nah, I can't imagine that kind of thing ever happening. )
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[Feb. 28th, 2009|10:57 pm]
whatprice
[whathesaid]
[Tags|, , ]

Who: Adrian Pucey and Samrat Amarnath
What: Word of the clinic gets out.
Where: the Clinic
When: November, 2008
Rating: PG-13 for some language, references to violence

Insomnia. It was one of the easiest things to fake medically and, Samrat considered as he walked up to the small flat, he certainly looked as if he had it. His eyes were swollen from exhaustion - Ghanem had kept him up for hours the night before, plotting, planning and all the while never once giving him anything concrete that he could put his finger upon. He blinked bleary water from his eye as he lifted his hand to rap at the door three times, short, sharp jolts.

He had come to see if there was anything to his brother's suspicions. The younger man had insisted that there was something wrong with the clinic that was treating so many of the people who hunkered down in their corner of London. Sam hadn't been able to pin him down for details, nor had anyone he'd spoken with been able to verbalize anything wrong beyond an occasional comment about how good the doctor was. Skill in medicine isn't something that should be a miracle, the man thought as his hand fell, waiting for the answering sound behind the door.

And for those who are inclined to cause trouble, well, I have ways of managing that. )
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