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[clumsy_auror]

The wizarding district of Rome is nestled between the Forum and St. John Lateran, lost to Muggle eyes in a sea of alleys and ancient, cobblestoned streets. Nymphadora emerges from just such a shop, and walks down the street towards a small fountain. She pauses, looking first left and then right, keeping a keen eye out for a flash of golden hair in the warm, late summer sun.

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[a-fell.livejournal.com]

It's really no surprise what's attracted Aziraphael's attention. He's standing, hands in pockets, gazing into the window of a dusty little bookshop. His posture is certainly casual, but the tiny wizened shop owner is standing on the doorstep, hands rubbing together slowly, a gleam in his eye.

[clumsy_auror]

Ah, yes. There he is. Nymphadora weaves her way through the people on the sidewalk and slows to a stop beside the angel, gazing into the shop window as well.

"...What're we looking at?" she whispers, leaning closer to his ear.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He nods his head at one corner of the window display. It's entirely possible that his hands are tucked into his pockets in order to disguise their shaking.

It's only a battered Bible, peeling gold letters on a plain blue cover, but his voice is low and almost reverent.

"I think... I can't be sure, of course, but I think that might very well be one of the 'delicate' Bibles."

[clumsy_auror]

"Mmm-hmm." The witch nods solemnly and bites her thumb nail, scrutinising the Bible. "Very interesting."

Yeah, she's got no idea what he's on about.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He glances sideways at her, smiling, and nudges her with his shoulder.

"Oh, do hush."

His eyes are drawn back to the book.

"Translated into Italian from the English, you see, by an abbott with an over-developed sense of propriety and a shaky grasp of English. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's... er." He flushes faintly pink. "Deretano."

[clumsy_auror]

"Oh!" And now she's nodding more enthusiastically. And also snickering a bit, perhaps. "Well that is a find, I reckon."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"I 'reckon' you might be right, my dear. Excuse me a moment."

He's in the bookshop an admirably short space of time, exiting with a paper bag stuffed into one pocket and an expression of slight regret - he does generally love the process of haggling, but Nymphadora's entirely more important just now and he had just paid what the owner had asked.

From the open door of the shop can be heard cracked whoops of glee.

Aziraphael hunches his shoulders, slightly, and then sighs and offers her his arm, smiling.

"Shall we?"

[clumsy_auror]

"I think so, yes." She slips her arm through his and takes a deep breath, pulling her sunglasses off the top of her head and settling them on the bridge of her nose. "Nice here. Much warmer than London, at the moment. There someplace nice and quaint with outdoor tables and handsome waiters where we can have a drink?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"It's Italy, dear. Everyone is handsome."

He looks considering for a moment.

"Up until the age of about forty, in any case. Then the pasta catches up with them."

He leads her, as he speaks, down the street to where a small alley leads into a beautiful square. There are three or four little cafés, ostensibly identical, but he heads unerringly towards one called 'Antonio's'.

Possibly it's because it serves the best coffee. Possibly.

It's surprising how many people nod to the both of them, pause to exchange greetings with the angel. One old woman cackles at him and calls across the street, a flood of Italian that makes him go quite ridiculously pink.

[clumsy_auror]

Biting her lip to keep from laughing at his expression, Nymphadora leans close again. "Do I even want to know, angel? Or is it best left to the imagination?"

She sets her bag down next to a chair and takes a seat, pulling the menu over to them. Antonio's appears to have, thankfully, a wide selection of granita.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"You probably do want to know, yes. But I'm most certainly not going to tell you."

[clumsy_auror]

"Awwww, you're no fun. Was it about your arse? She looks like a woman to appreciate a good arse."

Now she's grinning, even as she carefully examines the lunch selections, wavering between pizza rustica and a seafood risotto.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Nymphadora Diphda Tonks-Wrangle!"

And then the look on his face fades, slightly. Turns, gradually, into a smile.

"He's going to have a wonderful name for the purposes of shocked and outraged shaming, isn't he?"

[clumsy_auror]

She remains unruffled by the use of her full name, and grins widely. "Yup. Especially with the 'Ezra' thrown in there. Nice and gutteral. I can hear Bernard yelling it already."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He half-stands, leans over the table, gives her a smacking kiss on the cheek.

[clumsy_auror]

Laughing, Nymphadora reaches up to tousle his hair, and then turns her smile on the (indeed, very handsome) waiter who comes to take their order.

"Hallo! Ummm. Pizza rustica, please, and... granita di limone?"

He grins at her accent, which is utter rubbish, and then looks politely over to the angel.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael waves him away, and the waiter vanishes into the café, reappearing only a couple of minutes later with Tonks' drink and a pot of tea for the angel.

Clearly he's been here before.

[clumsy_auror]

She takes an appreciative sip of the granita, which elicits a shiver -- as all good granita should.

"So how's it going? You've been missed, at home."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"It's going. Slowly."

He shrugs, and pours his tea, and for a moment he looks unbearably weary. When he looks up at her, and smiles, it's gone again in an instant.

"It's simply marvellous to see you."

[clumsy_auror]

A soft smile in return. "'S good to see you too. This business with the Prophet, it's just so maddening... but I've not come to talk to you about that, so we'll just move right along. But yeah. Miss having you around to talk to."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Then what have you come to talk to me about? I would have imagined it was at the forefront, you know.

And... of course I've missed you too. There's nothing, really, I can talk about, but."

He takes her hand, squeezes it lightly.

"I've missed your face."

[clumsy_auror]

The waiter returns with their food, and Nymphadora casts an appreciative eye upon her pizza rustica.

"Just wanted a day away from work and London and everything. Get my head together, I guess. See you. Eat Italian food."

At the last, she glances at him sidelong, a wry smile on her lips. "Oh? Just the one, then?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Simply.

"They're all you. But this one, particularly."

[clumsy_auror]

A small, non-committal noise as she breaks his gaze, ostensibly examining her food.

"Thanks."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He raises his eyebrows, curious.

"I said something wrong?"