There's Nothing Blue About Firewhisky.

Ash glowed pumpkin orange, breaking through the oppressive darkness that the dramatists demanded. The colour waned and darkness enveloped once more as the stunted glow was moved by the wave of a hand and the glint of a ring was caught in the low light of a handful of candles melted onto the sideboard behind the three feet of mahogany that so many drunks treasured.

Light was gained by the ignition of lighters or additional candles. None of the overhead, artificial lighting was employed, though. The patrons were content enough, tapping into their arty sides or something like that.

For many though, it was a new opportunity to complain quietly to the owner of the restaurant and bar. The place was a dank hole and the music was rubbish and this and that and something else to do with Mandy from Madam Malkin’s wearing my dress, remove her!

Needless to say, the blues players didn’t come back for a second set. In their place there was light and jazz reigned.

Elijah Krum blinked and rubbed at his eyes as he tried to grow used to the sudden influx of colour that the jazz players had blessed them with. The dancing returned, the drinks were poured with more vigour and meals were abandoned in favour of the music. Many had scoffed at the combination of a bar and a restaurant. Elijah had seen proof enough that it had worked.

The man had gone to the bar, an endless source of Firewhisky, and used that in order to get straight many of the documents that he was tangling with. He’d lost his old studio in Paris but he was determined that if he was going to take Katarina to France then he was going to get a new studio and a small villa somewhere for them to stay in.

The girl had been thrilled at his offer and Elijah was sure that she didn’t believe that he was going to make good on it. Yet, here he sat, cigarette dangling from his mouth and different pictures of little cottages and villas just begging to be filled with cheese, wine, bread and paint. Elijah would’ve picked them all but he knew Kat wouldn’t enjoy the upheaval. He’d skirt between Paris and somewhere on the coast, he’d decided. Merlin knew, he wanted somewhere warm.

Elijah took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the ash into the glass bowl beside his elbow and reached for his Firewhisky. He took an absentminded sip as he continued to mull over the papers and put the glass down again, putting the cigarette back between his lips before grabbing at another page, comparing the two homes.

It would be a long night yet, Elijah knew. For supper he was due at the Rookwood home and he intended on showing Kat then but it’d probably be in the morning once he started on the wine with Kendall and Athena. Augustus would sod off Merlin only knew where and the kids would be put to bed. Kat wouldn’t linger too long. It’d have to be the morning then. Elijah just hoped he’d have it all ready by then.

Katrina-Carlotta stepped into the restaurant, mentally lamenting over how tired she was. Not that one could really tell from looking at her, to appear tired was an obvious weakness, and the woman had never been fond of exposing those. The dark witch was just about to find a nice quiet table, when she spotted Elijah Krum sitting at the bar.

Not only was Elijah the owner of the establishment, and it was always good to have ins in such places, but he was also the Deputy Minister Of Magic. Usually, unless attempting to assassinate them, Katrina-Carlotta would steer clear of such types. This man was a slightly different story though.

The witch had heard whispers that the high-up official was not as light as one would expect. He wasn't a dark wizard, by any means. But if her sources were correct, the man was not a dark-hater. Katrina-Carlotta knew a good opportunity when it was exposed to her, and took a seat next to the man.

With a quick glance at the well-dressed bartender, the woman paused for a moment, realizing that she didn't know how extensive the bar's wine stores were. "I'll have a glass of whatever decent Italian wine you have on hand," the witch announced nonchalantly.

Turning to the Krum, wondering if the government official would recognize her face, or just her name, the European asked, "you are the owner of this fine establishment, are you not?" It was a decent enough way to start a conversation, and far better than announcing her name and sending the man running.

Katrina-Carlotta reached into her pocket for her wand, not needing it, but just needing to know it was there. It was a horrible habit of hers, something that the woman had told herself needed to be remedied but had never gotten around to doing.

Withdrawing her hand, she twisted her wrist slowly in a counterclockwise circle, a pleased smile appearing on her face when the joint made a satisfying crack. Ever since she was young her joints had been prone to such things, it was in no way painful, just another part of her. That didn't mean the dark witch didn't like to play it off as a weakness, it could be useful when people underestimated her.

No one really chose to sit next to Elijah Krum; preferring instead to shout down the length of the bar at him to complain, because they were out of arm’s reach. Elijah knew as soon as he felt the woman’s presence beside him that there was a point to her sitting there. People usually left him alone at the end of the bar to drink and smoke and read because they knew better than to bother him. They only moved to sit near him if they wanted something so when the woman sat down next to him, Elijah immediately looked up.

The witch was quite pretty and suitably exotic looking but appeared as though she’d come from his neck of the woods; Eastern Europe and in and around those volatile Ottoman states. Elijah managed an easy smile for her benefit but did not address her until she spoke first to him. It was then that Elijah properly turned his head and with a quirked eyebrow he looked at her, curious as to whether or not he could read her motivations, read her desires, by just looking at her. He couldn’t.

Elijah picked up his glass of whisky and nodded before taking a sip of it, still trying to ascertain what she wanted from him. It was then that he remembered her face. Elijah put the glass down and studied her with a little bit more intensity, now genuinely interested in what it was she wanted from him as the Deputy Minister of Magic instead of him, Elijah Krum the owner of Eli’s Bar and Fine Dining.

“You decorate the wall in the Department of Law and Enforcement like so many others before you. What is it, Madam Du Hunt, that I can do for you?” Elijah inquired smoothly. “Certainly, good news travels fast doesn’t it; amongst rebels, corsairs and Death Eaters?” Elijah looked at her pointedly before picking up his glass once more.

“Get her something a little more expensive,” Elijah told the barman who merely nodded and disappeared through a door that led to the cellar where the more expensive wines were housed. “I do believe we will be talking business, hmm?”

Katrina-Carlotta was able to pinpoint the exact moment that the government official recognized her. It was a much better reaction than she had hoped for, the man simply studying her face and questioning her motivations.

"My intentions for the night were to track down a decent eating establishment, and unless you intend upon telling your chef to poison my food, I think you have provided me with such already," the witch replied smoothly, hardly even hesitating. It was the closest thing she'd gotten to making a joke all day.

"I also tend to make a habit of attempting to find interesting conversation whenever entering someplace new, and do forgive me Mr. Krum but none of your patrons look like they'd be up for my type of stimulating conversation," Katrina-Carlotta said, rather satisfied with her chosen words. Her sentence had provided her a weak excuse for approaching the man, avoided his question, and hinted at the fact he may be slightly darker than the general population believed. The woman allowed herself a smirk, leaning back in her seat.

Katrina-Carlotta took a light breath in, ensuring that she didn't flinch or in any way react to the comment of Death Eaters. This was still a Ministry official, after all. "Business indeed," the dark witch found herself murmuring, although this was hardly her usual type of business. "If it is my allegiances that worry you, I can assure that very little of my beliefs correspond to the deceased self-proclaimed Dark Lord," the woman announced honestly with another crack of her wrist. Hopefully, this would cause Elijah to doubt any suspicions he had about her being a Death Eater.

The so-called Dark Lord had been focused primarily on blood, one thing that Katrina-Carlotta hardly believed, and that separated her from many other dark magicals. The purebloods had it all wrong, it wasn't about blood, it was about power. Some could argue that purebloods had power that others didn't, but the simple reason for that was that purebloods had knowledge that was kept secret and passed down within families. She should know, she'd killed for enough of it.

“You want something.”

Elijah’s response was airy enough but he would’ve wagered his accuracy. He’d known enough women in his time to understand when they wanted something. They liked to indulge in their pretty words and batting eyelashes. They’d wear easy smiles and pay dripping compliments that made even the most egotistical man shudder. Of course, Katrina was not the worst of the bunch but she was no better than many of the harlots and sneaks he’d come across before.

Before she could reply, the bartender returned and set down the bottle of wine with all of the necessary trappings. He left them then and Elijah busied his hands with the corkscrew and the bottle, getting the cork out with practised ease before nudging the glass over towards Katrina. He poured her a starting amount of wine, more to try than anything else, and set the bottle down again before leaning against the bar, his interest now truly piqued.

Of course, allegiances in Britain were paramount. Truly, Elijah did not understand it himself but knew well enough the dangers Lord Voldemort had brought and Grindelwald before him. Factions meant safety, in a round-about way, he supposed.

“Which one?” Elijah smirked at her. “Dark Lords come and go but only a handful make the history books; though I presume you mean Mr. Riddle, hm?” Elijah waved his hand dismissively. “It is all circumstantial. Perhaps such a bond would have made more in years gone by. Not now. Not here, especially. This place is politically neutral and Aurors are rarely admitted if they’ve a mind to arrest. Still, I expect you know that.”

Elijah slid off the stool and gestured for her to follow him. “I suggest we go to my office. Less chance there that someone would overhear.”

The dark witch stood from her seat, and followed the man towards his office. She hadn't expected the him to get right down to business, but it didn't displease her that such seemed to be his plan. "Of course I want something, don't we all?" Katrina-Carlotta said simply. She hadn't approached the male for any particular reason, other than that he was certainly someone it would be useful to know. If the woman thought about it, she could surely come up with many things she wanted from the restaurant owner, but who didn't want things that the Deputy Minister for Magic could provide?

Katrina-Carlotta had taken the wine and her own glass with her, having not even tasted the liquid yet. She'd run the necessary tests shortly. The woman might have been a tad paranoid, but it was hardly unwarranted. As the saying went, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you. The witch certainly appreciated the humor in such a statement, but agreed with it all the same.

"It's quite admirable of you to create a politically neutral establishment Mr. Krum, but sadly we are both aware that there is no such thing as a true neutral when it comes to living beings," the Du Hunt commented, seeming off-handedly.

The European stepped into the man's office, and immediately began scanning the room. It was second nature to her, something done without a thought. The woman stepped to the side to allow Elijah the space to enter, and remained at the side of the door. Katrina-Carlotta would wait for the male to offer her a seat, both for the sake of politeness and because the man's choice for her would be telling.

Unable to help herself, the witch swirled her wrist in an elegant movement slightly reminiscent of a ballerina. The wrist let out a crack that almost echoed around the room, amplified by the silence in the office. The sound was almost ominous, and the witch impulsively sent Elijah a crooked smile.

Elijah had dealt with his fair share of witches in his time; most of which on terrible power trips in order to validate themselves. The very fabric that was the female had always interested him. He’d never really gotten over his initial amusement. Their sex was very important to them and along with their sexuality it appeared to determine their power over men; or so they played it. What he wouldn’t have given for an innocent, for once; one that didn’t want anything but simplicity and a life devoid of a skirmish for power. But that was an impossibility, he felt, and they all knew it.

Sidling into the room, Elijah put the bottle down on the desk and sat down in the leather chair he coveted so. He kicked his feet up onto the side of the desk and gestured for her to sit down, flicking his hand briefly in the direction of the door, causing it to snap shut with a flourish. The man then looked up, his eyes falling to the woman’s wrist. In response, Elijah clicked his own fingers and smirked a little before pouring a few more fingers of Firewhisky into his glass.

“Those who enter her know the score.” Elijah replied with ease. “Take it outside...” He gestured to nothing in particular at all as a slow smile formed on his lips and he chuckled, mostly to himself, before bringing the glass to his lips.

Smacking his lips together after a moment, Elijah sat back in the chair and studied the woman, trying to ascertain where he stood. She wanted something, he knew. Didn’t they all? But what could he do about it, he wondered?

“Now what is it that you’re after, madame?” He inquired lazily. “What is it that I can do you for, hmm?”

(OOC: Naff, I know. Just getting back into the swing of the thread.)

The dark witch paused for a moment before sliding into the seat the man had gestured towards. Katrina-Carlotta almost marveled at the apparent ease of the wizard sitting only a few feet away from her. Of course, she probably wasn't something too new for the Deputy Minister. The man was likely used to dealing with those whom practiced dark magic, accustomed to those whom talked in only power-plays, and most certainly aware of how to handle a powerful woman. Just because she was notoriously all of the three, only meant that the Krum would have to keep such in mind.

The dark-haired female didn't want Elijah as an enemy, but it would not be easy to become the man's friend. Katrina-Carlotta was aiming for allies, something that would certainly benefit them both. "Of course," the woman replied, wondering how many times the man himself had to force people to "take it outside" before the rule had stuck.

Not bothering to move quickly, Katrina-Carlotta poured herself a glass of the wine. Setting the bottle down upon the desk, the European raised the glass to her nose so she could smell the liquid. Slowly lowering the glass, the witch swirled the wine with a practiced hand. Finally satisfied, the woman sat the liquid down next to the bottle, and looked up at the powerful male directly in front of her.

"At first, I will admit, my only goal was to speak with you. I'm sure you are aware how interesting a conversation with the Deputy Minister would be to someone like me," the woman stated casually, leaning back in her chair. "But since you seem to be practically offering," Katrina-Carlotta paused here for a single moment, "what do you know about dragons, Mr. Krum?"

It was bizarre how his life had taken a turn. With one notch on his wand, he found himself delving deeper into the Dark Arts and into the lives of those who practised them. He didn’t see hide or hair of the Lupins much anymore and in their place he found kinship with the Rookwood family and their many associates. It seemed almost second nature to him at the time to clear Athena of any wrongdoings as far as the courts were concerned. It was even easier to draw Jude up through the Ministry ranks and hand over jobs to friends, to associates, to the good and the bad. For once, he finally found himself understanding how it was that the Death Eaters had punctured the Ministry during the Second Wizarding War; it was so easy to get them in.

Favours were something he’d become notorious for providing behind closed doors; an open secret, regardless. As Elijah sat and studied the European witch, finding an odd kinship with her having, too, experienced the foreign stage that was the British Wizarding World. He could help her – she knew that as well as he did – but there was a price to everything and Elijah wouldn’t be a politician if his wheels weren’t greased with gold.

The Deputy Minister quirked an eyebrow at her question and he sat back in his chair idly, spinning in it gently from side to side as he thought.

“There is a reserve in Bulgaria that the world has assumed ceased to exist decades ago.” He answered easily. “Keep it close to the Romanian reserve and no one will notice it. Put it somewhere obscure, they’ll pick it up quicker than anything. What it is that you want a dragon for, exactly, madame?”

The information he'd given her was quite useful. If Elijah wasn't willing to cooperate, she could always just take a little road trip to Bulgaria. It might take a while, but she was talented enough that it wouldn't take too long for her to track down the reserve. Elijah seemed to be willing enough however, so she only wondered what the man would want in return. The woman wasn't naïve enough to think that the powerful wan would just hand over a dragon free of charge.

Looking deep into the man's eyes for a brief second, the dark witch spotted an odd predatory gleam. It wasn't the type found in an insane dark practitioner, but more like what one would see in a cat stalking its prey. Wondering absently if the man was an animagus, the witch decided to keep an eye out for other subtle hints.  

"Well Mr. Krum, this is going to seem terribly childish of me, but I just want one," Katrina-Carlotta admitted with an amused quirk of her lips, "I've never had a pet, you see. I was never particularly interested in cats, or toads, or birds. But a dragon; a dragon is a creature worth having."

The European wasn't sure if the man would believe the peculiar truth. After all, it did sound a bit like a bad joke. An infamous dark witch goes to see a corrupt government official about a dragon. But she doesn't want it to cause chaos, or spread fear, or burn down towns. No, she wants it as a pet. So the official says "what is it that you want a dragon for?" and she says...