Ivan paid little attention to the cauldrons, broomsticks, and the ever popular tiny chopped pieces of who-knows-what littered around the Alley in scores upon scores of stands and shops, like animal carcasses.
He watched the people, but he diddn't look any of them in the eye, he had little interest in who they actually were, but then again they diddn't have much interest in him? Why would they? Middle aged, gaunt and nosy, and he did not deny it, but he truly wished it wasn't so.

He could smell people, in posseys ranging from two to ten and far beyond (he wondered, did all people travel in flocks or was it just the Sunday crowd?). The swirl of colors, yellows and blues and reds of cloaks, suits and dresses always reminded him of the Circus, he'd never been to one, but he remembered the chipped wooden posters on the telephone polls in Birmingham every year...Yes the Alley was rather like a Circus, the animals especially completed the picture, barking, yammering and cawing their little brains out at everything that passed.

He wouldn't have traded it for anything, well it would have helped if he had a bit of shine to flash around...but...

Even if he could have spent his money on those particular things he rather doubted he would, living like a Muggle was not as bad as many made it out to be, and being brought up rather austere he hardly knew what he was missing, to him, it was polite to subtle about your magic rather than running the risk of pissing off some Great Aunt with rosary beads, and gowns thick as her curtains, the whole nine yards.

In places like this, and Hogwarts, if he remembered correctly (Damn how many of his memories had been strayed, fragmented and made up?) the freedom that it exuded, seemed more enchanted than the organization in which he spent most of his middle-aged days. Ironic, because the place where he worked his tedious little day job was supposed to be the capital of magic in Great Britain.
He probably had, oh say five incantations on his entire house, perhaps two spell books, not to say he diddn't love it. He was born with love for it, but he had yet to find a spell that could fix any of his problems, no, not even the leak in his roof (it had a rather curious look to it, which was perhaps why his charms diddn't work. He had heard rumors...) , or similarity the gaping hole in his bank account.

But he could afford to look, and get a little icecream, and hey, he wasn't being trodden on by a herd of enraged centaurs.

Oh...!

Puppies.

He saw them occasionally, squirming and hopping like little sausages in a frying pan, in the dry down where they played, the window was thick and covered with the smudges of handprints from the outside and pawprints from the inside.
Their cute....I want one. he thought, marveling at this childish (and, kind of womanly ) desire as he saw, what looked sort of like a Jack Russel puppy yawn and roll over in it's sleep.
He sort of doubted one of his Great Aunt's dogs would have a forked tail however.

He forced himself to stop staring at them rolling around and supressed a flow of "baby talk" that practically gushed from him Being a raging homosexual is not one of things I'd rather flaunt. he thought sullenly at himself.
Well, if he was going to be a child today, what better way of appeasing it than spilling icecream all over himself? He stuttered blithingly at the man in the stand, took it and gave it an experimental lick.

Not bad at all.

He stood off from the crowd, near one of the less crowded shops (a second hand book store, Ha.) Occasionally he looked back at the puppies in the window and hummed under his breathe.

I still want one.

Willow walked quickly out of Flourish and Blotts, and increased her speed gradually as she wove through the crowd. God, why couldn't they leave her alone? Stupid people.How do they know me, know I went to Beauxbatons? And why is it so importand to them? She slipped silently past a man selling ice cream, cursing in French. Well, there goes my happy day of finding a new book... She was so intent on hiding herself, (a fairly simple tast, despite her long and vivid red hair, because she was so short) that she nearly missed the second hand book shop. Yes! She cut quickly to the left and went inside, passing a tallish dark haired man who looked in need of a good meal. She might be slender, but she was healthy and althetic. He was just gaunt, and very pale.

She inhaled as she stepped inside the shop. Ahhh, old books.... Her dark blue and crystalline eyes (well, at least normally, they changed colour according to her mood) swept the shop. It was very small, but perhaps it would have some interesting books to investigate while she hid? Hopefully. She ignored the shoplady, and went to a shelf near the back. Nevermind... All it had were dragon care books. She sighed, and went to the shelf nearer to the window. Much better. She browsed through the books quickly. Read that, read that... and that and that and that... Hmmm, haven't read this one. She pulled it out and flipped it over, reading the back. Yes, I think I'll get this one. She heard a familiar voice outside. Shit, why are they following me still?

Willow ducked around the shelf, and went overto the counter. "I'd like to buy this please," she said softly. "Sure thing honey! That'll be 28 sickles." That seems reasonable, actually fairly good... She paid, and headed towards the door, holding the book to her chest. She peered outside, and since it seemed safe again, she headed outside. She didn't feel like heading any further down, knowing which way her miniature papariazzi had gone, but she didn't head back, on the off chance they had left a few behind. "Zut Alors..." She muttered, and leaded against the wall, sighing.

The gaunt man was still there. She watched him intently in her peripheral vision, while she pretended to look around the shops. Taller than he looked before, he's hunched over, like the world's out to get him. He had lovely hair, a very feathery black, slightly unkempt looking, though obviously he was neatly groomed. He's very twitchy, she noted, and noticed that something seemed to attract his attention quite often. A gaggle of puppies who were romping around. Whener the man looked at them, his gray eyes softened. He wants one, obviously, but I highly doubt he has the money for one. They are very cute... but I do prefer cats. She smiled to herself, and brushed her waist length red hair out of her face. She drummed her fingers on her book, resisting the temptation to start reading it. She wanted to continue examining this man.

A wind stole by, and she pulled her long dark grey jacket around her, and shivered. How can he be eating ice cream? She wondered. It had been much warmer earlier, that might be why. As she had that thought, the wind stopped blowing, and the air got warmer. Dammit, I hate weird tempature changes. Willow took a moment to glance down the street. Her paparazzi were back. Willow glared sullenly at them. She heard one of them talking about the bookshop. And there goes my conveinient hiding spot. I swear, they are scarier than any dark creature that roams this earth.

Willow frowned unhappily as the one that was talking about the bookshop saw her. He immediatly made a beeline for her, and the rest of them followed. She stamped made up her mind not to pull out her wand and curse them into the next century, and wished she hadn't changed her mind when she heard a familiar voice, heavily accented in French. "See, I told you she liked books." Chris grinned at her and she stifled the urge to scream at him. "Why. Are. You. Here?" She said through her teeth, glaring at him. "Well, I found out where you have been working, and I, accidentally, dropped some of your history to these nice people here," He said, obviously undaunted. He grinned insolently at her, and she said a mixture of threats and impolite words, in a mixture of English and French, with a little German thrown in. He tsked at her, and walked away as the group of people surrounded her.

She completely forgot about the man she had been watching, distracted by the barrage of questions. She stared at them, as they ignored the message of distress her wide blue eyes must have been conveying by that point. "No, I don't know who that is, I'm not related to your dutch explorer person." She tried to sink into the wall behind her as they came closer. Her eyes darkened from a clear blue to a dark grey. "Leave me alone, I don't know any of what you are talking about! Who are you?" One of them paused, confused. "Aren't you Willow Rayne?" Willow had an idea. "No, I'm not. I'm Claudia Burset." She randomly pulled out the name of a girl she had known in muggle school. Thank god Chris had been overconfident and left.

"Oh," the same person said, slightly confused. "Sorry..." They quickly dispersed, and Willow covered her face, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. "I HATE people." She said, though it was slightly muffled through her hands. She had completely forgotten about the gaunt man that had been so interesting before, and instead was trying to keep herself from hunting down Chris and subjecting him to torture, one involving papercuts and lemon juice.

((Sorry it's so long, this usually happens with my first posts. My next ones won't be so long, they'll match yours.))

Ivan had glimpsed his silent observer, but he had lost her in the shuffle, and stood feeling, again out of place and self conscious.

He saw people laughing (he could see their mouths, their bared teeth) but not their faces, though they were close in his minds eye, he was pretty sure they had not yet come within a distance like that. They sounded to him, like crows or seagulls.

How often did his paranoia turn out to be right? He trembled, the childish desires becoming replaced with childish fear.

It was fine, he was fine, he was used to this. (His icecream had spilled, a good quarter of it on the pebbly gray ground.)

I'm fine.

He forced himself to remain calm, though almost instantly he felt the desire to bolt. If someone had been observing him there must have been a reason why, and perhaps he should be the gentleman and go find out exactly why

He stared back, scanning the crowd, his eyes resting on something odd, a young redheaded girl slumped, crouched somehow, her face contorted in...either fear, sadness or anger.

He strained his eyes, forgetting how obvious he was being.

He could not buy a puppy. If there was any time to take a leap, now would be it. He felt guilty, and besides, this woman had been staring at him for at least twenty minuites or more,.... there must have been a reason.

He hesitated, and then began to walk, the rest of the way he did not look at her, nervous of her first reaction, but when he came he had already decided what to say.

"Would you l-l-like to take a walk with me M-m-miss"?

There was nothing romantic in his intentions (for obvious reasons, at least to himself) but she could construe it however he liked. He felt harried, as if he were about to be chased off the bright, noisy street.

"Would you l-l-like to take a walk with me M-m-miss?"

Willow looked up quickly, startled. The person she had been watching earlier was looking down at her, seeming rather nervous. She stood up, muttering apologies, and brushed the dust off her coat. Interesting, is he a stutterer, or just nervous? She tilted her head minutley, narrowing her eyes. Now that he was closer, she could see he seemed rather harried, but it seemed somehow as if he was usually like that.

She nodded slowly, slightly tense in an unconsious reaction, ready to fight and flee if the need arose. "I would like that, thank you..." She leaned down and picked up her book, which she had accidentally dropped earlier. Had he noticed that she had been watching him for so long? Maybe he was... She dismissed the notion before it was fully formed, tucking the book into her bag so it wouldn't come to harm. She gestured down the street. "This way, unless you have somewhere in mind?" She said quietly. She could tell that there was nothing romantic in his approach, and anyway, he was probably at least 10 years older than her.

"I...-I don't"

He replied swiftly, 'gathering his cloak' before he realized he wasn't wearing one. Somehow he diddn't like the way this woman kept looking at him, it was unnerving to be analyzed by someone he did not know. Then again, it seemed they were becoming acquainted whether they both liked it or not.

But he did feel sorry for her, after what he had seen, and somehow she looked just as troubled as he no doubt did, just in a very different way. He put his long, slender hands together and waited for her to lead, looking back over his shoulder occasionally, if he were an animal his ears would have been perked and held back in suspicion.