Narissa wasn't sure what to expect of today. Work had been slow, recently - not as many people as there would have been not so long ago coming to her for spells and the like... though of course she knew why.  

Gah, Death Eaters in power. It made her sick, really it did. And on top of that her grandmother's gone off into the wilderness somewhere, and Narissa has no concrete knowledge of her wellbeing...

Narissa's... not in a good mood. That's not going to help her get any clientelle, though whatever clients she may indeed get are likely to be blood purists these days anyway, so her willingness to be helpful is... pretty low, all things considered. But she's still civil, no matter how much she fantasises about punching them in their smug, 'superior' faces.

Narissa entered the office and spelled the adjoining door locked shut, then sat down at her desk. The buisness was open, now she must simply wait. 

---

Notes: OPEN

Tags: None

Words: 154

She wasn't quite sure what she wanted. Nothing to do with Justin, that was for-fucking-certain, because if she did it would be a proof she knew about him, and she couldn't go through that-- no, that was a fucking lie, and she knew that. She could go through that, but she couldn't put her mother through that. Her mother had lost both her parents when she was ten, went from relative to relative, found who she thought be be a nice quiet man, and they lived through the slaughter of his family, and Agatha (while never particularly brave) worked in a hospital where a fucking shitsack scum excuse for a human being who should have been executed twenty years ago sometimes came in.

No, no that wasn't fair, and she knew it. It was an insult to call him a human, was wrong to call people like that human. Werewolves were human, Veela whatever they decided to be, and to call something like that a monster was an insult to Beasts. She took a breath, trying to calm her thoughts, before knocking on the cottage door.

Narissa was notified of a knock on her door, and went to open it. "Hello," She greeted the supposed client. "Dorian Spellcrafters, how may - may I help you?" Narissa really hoped the other woman didn't notice her slip. Elise was a muggleborn, and she didin't want it known by any random person that she'd run. 

The other woman was younger than herself by a few decades, and she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts - Narissa could get that. After all, you could say the same about Narissa these days.

Her grandmother - the last fully conscious close relative of Narissa's, was running around the wilderness due to her muggleborn status. And then there was the fact that Death Eaters had taken over, and that Narissa hadn't gotten a single peep from the order, in any way shape or form. Alas, that's that, and Narissa can do nothing about it. 

---

She'd been a Hit Witch-- had this been a case, she would have let it be known, been on her guard. But she was a fucking civvy now, or civvy enough that she was sure that no one would be lying in wait to attack her.

"Do you do names?" She'd charmed her hair brown, and lopped off about twenty inches for the visit, leaving it short and dull. It would grow back, she'd have it grow back, her hair hadn't grown out without a quick chop since she was seventeen. She'd painted freckles on her face, darkened her eye color from pale Bones-brown to hazel, and dropped her typical attire. Her wand was an obvious identifier, so it was both hidden and easy to reach.

Not all places did names,she knew. She didn't know about this one-- plausible deniability was always a good thing, always a dangerous thing. Not that what she was asking for was dangerous, though, but-- call it a preemptive visit, maybe.

Narissa looked at the other woman cautiously. Straight to business was a good thing - especially these days - but still...

She hadn't been asked for that in a long time. 

Narissa flicked her eyes around the clearing surrounding the cottage-office warily, before standing aside. "W-I may be able to assist you." She responded. Elise - her grandmother was always the one that had done names, and so Narissa, well. 

Her grandmother's notes and files and texts are still in the office, though, on the second floor, under the filing cabinet. They weren't - alright, so her family was paranoid, but with good reason. It just meant that Narissa - competent as she was - would be able to do this job well. And besides... she needs the money. Business has been slow, these days. A business run by a halfblood (and formerly also a muggleborn) wasn't exactly popular among the Death Eaters, for obvious reasons. 

And they weren't welcome here regardless. Narrisa can't exactly make that clear, but she's barely civil when they turn up, and it's probably quite evident. 

"How about we bring the discussion into my office?" Narrissa said smoothly, eyes lingering on the path that led to her clearing from the apparition zone. She'd never been wholly comfortable with the greater populace knowing her home's location, but it was needed for the business to thrive. 

However, considering the current political climate... now more than ever, Narissa was -

Paranoid. 

Narissa was rather jealous of the Dorian complex back in France, in all honesty. The privacy, the intricate wards. But this was all beside the point. 

Narissa walked in and opened the door to her office. "Take a seat," She nodded to the chairs across from her own. "I'm sure we can work something out."

---

There had been another-- one that was most likely not here any longer. With things as they were, that meant likely one thing.

A set-up was still possible, but she doubted it. A long game, perhaps,but they'd have set up a spellmaker with a bit more confidence, most likely."Your office sounds wonderful," Susan responded, keeping her fingers from dancing to her wand. Old habits, ones she'd be keeping to until the day her bones turned to dust, she was sure.

She followed the older woman through the home, automatically categorizing items: useful in a fight, delicate, most likely spelled, attached firmly to walls. A window here or there, a mirror. Nerves hummed. She wasn't jumpy, no-- this was instinct, searching for places that could be escaped from, blind spots, hidden areas-- this was this was how she'd done her job. Aurors received similar training-- it wasn't as if she'd given away anything-- only that she was trained, and that was if her eyes had been paid attention to.

Her eyes flicked around the office, mapping out and recatagorizing, and she took a seat. "Thank you, Madam."

"Wonderful," Narissa nodded, "Right this way, then."

Narissa was no slouch; having fought alongside the Order, having needed to be observant to survive, Narissa couldn't afford to be. Therefore, Narissa kept an eye on the younger woman. The lady's eyes darted around the office's entrance, and Narissa could tell that she was trained - for what and by whom, she couldn't say. 

It was best to keep her guard up. 

The woman did the same with the office; taking it in with her eyes and assesing the environment, before sitting down. Narissa nodded once in response to her words; an incline of the head, and then sat across from her behind the desk - Elise's desk; this is the one with the paperwork for names - and removed a few sheafs of parchment from the top left draw, along with a quill, then placed the parchment on the desk and slid it over to the other woman.

Narissa placed the quill in the table's ink pot and slid that over as well, before speaking. "Straight to business; you require a name, yes?" Narissa asked, rhetorically, and nodded to the parchment. "If you can, I'd like for you to fill in the form there as much as you can; no box specifically is required, necessarily, but I do need some information to get what you wish for. And how much you're willing to pay will influence what I can and cannot do, of course." Narissa didn't actually know how Elise priced the names, and nor was she going to - because if Narissa truly started taking over her grandmother's part of the buisness, it would feel like...

Like it was - a permanent thing. That Elise would not be coming back. Narissa can't truly handle the thought of that, let alone the reality, so - she's improvising. It's - Narissa isn't a fan of this, honestly, but there's not much else she can do.

---

"Only as much as you'd require one." Her nerves were half-tingling-- the spellmaker knew that Susan was taking in her surroundings. It was like the set up to an interrogations. She kept her muscles from coiling. Wasn't that she was too fucking civvy-- unless it was a feint or a sleeper, she figured she had an idea of what side the worker was on. She read the papers carefully.

Her personal name-- well, everything had happened a generation or two ago. Her namesake and aunt had been high-profile, but Amelia's murder had been twenty fucking years ago, and the murders of her grandparents, and her uncle, his wife, and their children had been fifteen years before that. She had joined Magical Law, she had done well-- and that wasn't quite unexpected for a Bones. If she followed the centuries-old-pattern, she'd likely die in a battle.

She could almost live with that-- death didn't scare her. Almost never had. It was a Bones thing-- why they had no family ghosts. Death was Hufflepuff-equal, came to all in the end. The only thing that kept her from honoring that was the fear of what had had happened to her uncle's family: that when she died, her children went with her too. She couldn't bring down the House of Bones to their final crashing end, she couldn't hold the lives of her children in her hands anymore than she already did.

"Money isn't a problem." It wasn't the complete truth, but it was her fucking truth. If this was a plant, it would be seen as suspicious, possibly-- she ought to fucking care more about that. But she'd been out of the Ministry the day of the coup-- she'd been off chasing a tip, and when she'd returned it had been to find out that the fucking death eaters were in power, a-fucking-again. And somehow, there were more-- more older ones, more powerful ones who hadn't been in Battle, who weren't defeated by schoolkids who had spent half the year in hiding. That she fucking cared about, because with Riddle in hidden power, they'd lasted less than a year.

She filled out the forms using her right hand. She was ambidextrous-- it made little difference, but it was the dominent hand of most, and thus it made made sense to seem as if she was one.

People had their own reasons for wanting names, and Narissa wasn't one to pry. As much as she disliked the lack of transparency between her and the customer, Narissa has gotten used to this sort of thing over the years. Especially during the first war, when keeping secrets was the difference between your death and a Death Eater's. And now, that was happening again - the secrecy, the suspicion, the paranoia. 

So yes. Narissa would rather not get a curse to the face - not that she couldn't defend herself, but it would be rather the mess - and so she doesn't ask. Saying the wrong thing to a person as tense as the other woman appears to be, when there is a war going on (no matter how hidden it may be) is simply foolish. 

"Well then." Narissa nodded. "That's good." For her and the other woman; money was a little tighter on the income side of things these days. (Not that she didn't have a fair amount stashed away (and a lot of it not in Gringotts - it's not that she doesn't trust them, it's that she doesn't trust they won't be broken into)) Additionally, on the flipside - if the other woman had less money to give, she could not afford as good a job. 

Simply business, as her grandmother would have said. 

Simply business. 

Narissa watched and waited for a moment to make sure the woman started to fill in the paperwork, and then stood, walked over to her grandmother's file cabinet, and opened the second draw, taking out a folder. Narissa flipped through, found the pricing, and returned to the table. 

"Here," She placed it down, slid the folder over - open on the back page. "The prices for names." Narissa knew Elise's name was on the file, but there was nothing she could do about it in such a short amount of time that wouldn't have gone unnoticed. It's simply more effective to act as if nothing is wrong or out of the norm, and hope the woman's obvious wish for anonymity would mean that she'd keep quiet even if the lady did notice anything amiss.  

---

The names sounded half-familiar, but set up no tingle-- they weren't Death Eater, they were-- positive, she thought. She'd trust her gut; it had only led her wrong with one fucker. (two, maybe, but Justin had fucking reasons so he was in a very grey area) Well, she'd made a fucking knot by asking about names first, but what-fucking-ever. Her hand lingered near her coin purse, and she pulled out the price for names, keeping her face Hit-Mage-Straight.

"Susan Bones."

It wasn't like she fucking expected her name to be recognized, or lived in fucking fear, but-- she wanted safety spells, she didn't know how much the other person liked their name to be out. Because it wasn't like anyone had fucking mattered, not since her aunt was murdered a generation, not since uncle and aunt and fucking cousins and grandparents near a generation before that.

(dead grandparents. dead aunt, dead uncle, dead cousins. dead family, living-dead-girl who grew up in a mausoleum and learned how to spell her name on her murdered cousin's grave, saw it on around fifty others.) "It's a pleasure."