Antonin Dolohov sat on a small swivel stool behind the counter of Michael's Photo and Camera Equipment. He had one leg rested on the ground and another rested on the support bar of the stool. Wedged between his thighs was a camera body, and held between his hands was the disembodied lens. Breathing onto the lens, he rubbed at it with tissue until it was suitably clean.
His mind was preoccupied with thoughts from the meeting. He was annoyed that he had been involuntarily volunteered to tutor insufferable younglings in the Dark Arts. These students, products of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were indisputably the victims of an inferior education. Though he did not manage to complete school, he held a great measure of pride at having attended Durmstrang, where he was the top-performing student in all his years there, where he was even accelerated a couple of levels due to his preternatural ability...
It was not untrue to say he owed his parents a great deal in that regard, though he had many mixed feelings about that matter. Had they seen him attend school they could not have been prouder, but they did not, and anyway he subsequently dropped out for personal reasons, so it was not like he carried any official qualifications to boast of.
He had not been in school for more than eight years now, and he struggled to put together a lesson plan. In line with his Durmstrang experience he knew that the key to success was intense pressure, for that was how diamonds such as those in the Urals were formed, as the teachers were so fond of saying.
He was dimly aware that a customer had entered the shop and was hoping Misha would attend to him, but the customer headed in his direction.
"So sorry to interrupt—" came the voice, low in register but wrapped in warmth.
Antonin looked up to see the redheaded boy from the other day, Fabian Prewett. He nearly broke into a cold sweat wondering how Fabian had managed to track him down in this muggle place. He spent his days away from the Dark Lord hid amongst the muggles, for that was where he was the least visible to the world. There was no way anyone was supposed to be able to find him here, not even by magic.
"How did you find this place?" Antonin asked suspiciously.
Fabian looked taken aback. "You er, you gave me a number? On the felly—sorry, telephone. I dialled that number looking for you, and Mary said you worked here sometimes."
"Who's Mary?" Antonin asked, suspicion growing.
"I...I have no idea, actually. Your mother? The person who lives at your place?"
Antonin thought for a while. "Do you mean Rizwana?"
"Perhaps! Who is Rizwana?"
"My landlord. She has got to stop doing that, she always telling people she's Mary," he muttered to himself.
"Oh," said Fabian, looking down at his shoes. After a while, he picked his head up and thrust a package in Antonin's face.
"Here are your sheets! Freshly laundered, spic and span, as good as new," he declared, then dropping his voice to a stage whisper, with a waggle of the eyebrows thrown in for extra effect, he continued, "No one will be any the wiser about what we did on it."
Antonin looked up at Fabian, inwardly vexed.
"I'm in the middle of work here."
"Aha!" Fabian exclaimed brightly. "It just so happens that I am in search for a camera. Do you think you might be able to help?"
This was all too convenient, Antonin thought. One of the enemy just showing up at his workplace suddenly deciding he wanted to purchase a camera. He should have killed him like he meant to the other day before he got sidetracked.
"What kind of camera do you need?" Antonin asked with a surly face.
"Ahh," Fabian said lightly. "It's for work..."
"What model? What functions? What price range are you looking at? What is the exact purpose of its use?"
Fabian batted his eyelashes coyly, as he pressed a finger into his freckled cheek, pondering the options on display.
"I don't actually know. I do think it would be useful for work however. Say, you're the camera expert, aren't you?"
"I could help if you give me more information. What do you do anyway?"
Fabian smiled at him mysteriously. This was beginning to get on Antonin's nerves.
"It's terrible...the work I do," Fabian said vaguely, maintaining an aura of coyness.
"I'm sorry, I can't help you unless you tell me something."
Fabian spread himself on the glass counter in a sudden move, propping his chin flirtatiously with one hand. His bottom, which was mostly flat and shapeless, protruded over the edge into the air. "Say...if I buy a camera from you...will you go out with me?"
How on earth could anyone be so infuriating?!
Antonin grabbed a camera and put it in front of Fabian.
"Look, just get this. It is very high quality, Made in Germany. It is fully manual, you can operate it in the harshest conditions. If you buy this today I will throw in some accessories for free, like a cleaning cloth and a camera strap. Of course, you will need some lenses before you can start shooting, which I will be happy to show you. I recommend you also buy this light meter, as you will need it, being a complete novice."
"Ooh," Fabian squealed. "You are doing the salesman thing. How do I know you're not ripping me off?"
"Well, if you want something else, get this." Antonin pulled another camera off the shelves. "Made in Japan, this is even faster, with a higher range of shutter speeds."
Fabian squinted at the price tag.
"If you want quality you have got to pay for it," Antonin said plainly, eager to end this transaction.
"Which one gets me dinner with you?" Fabian asked.
Antonin looked at the two cameras. If Fabian needed something for his job, and if his job was what Antonin thought it was, the Nikon would be a good choice, but since he had no intention of helping Fabian out and he had every intention of getting he best he could out of this dire situation, he made a purely economic decision.
He put his hand on the Leica. "This gets you dinner with me," he said.
Fabian beamed at him. "Very well then," he said, picking it up. "I will get this, and we shall go for dinner."
"You're not going anywhere with that," Antonin said sternly. "Not before you get some lenses."
Fabian Prewett spent a horrific amount of money in that shop, but because he was terrible with understanding muggle money, he thought it was all fine and dandy.