Victor Keller strode into the Ministry's Legal Library, careful to skirt around the librarian's office. He didn't exactly want the man remembering his visit, not that it mattered since the library was open to the public. But being cautious was second nature by now.

His target, Tracey Davis, was settled at a table, surrounded by musty books and parchment. She looked lovely, as a witch of her breeding should, even with the smidge of dust on her cheek. He'd seen her before, of course. Had even talked to her for a moment at one event or other, though he doubted that she would remember that, even if he had been trying to charm his way into her bedroom at the time. She had been willfully oblivious, he had thought. Now, knowing what he knew about her, it was entirely possible that she had been truly unaware of his intentions.

"You have a smudge, Miss Davis," he stated when he reached her, causing her to jump at the noise. He smiled apologetically and presented his handkerchief, which had been carefully prepared by his single house elf to be crisp and nicely scented.

Tracey looked up and blushed when she saw a very fit dark-haired man holding out a handkerchief to her. He motioned to her cheek and she grinned as she took it and dabbed her face. "Thank you, Mr. Uh, excuse me, but I don't think we've met before, have we?" She normally remembered when someone with a smile like that spoke to her. It wasn't very often, so it was worth remembering.

"Not formally, though we did chat at the birthday celebration you planned for Joey Jenkins. My name is Victor Keller." He bent over her hand and blew faintly on the back of it before kissing the air right above her skin. If she was sensitive enough, she would have imagined the feel of his lips on her skin. Hints could be so much more affective than bludgers after all.

"You look hard at work here. Are you researching for business or pleasure? Or... Was that too forward a question?" He looked down at his feet in a show of embarrassment before glancing at her from beneath his eyelashes.

He obviously seemed intent on seeing her blush all over again. When he'd kissed her hand she forgot she had a boyfriend at home for a moment and couldn't help but give him a shy grin. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you, but it's nice to meet you again, Mr. Keller."

Tracey glanced down at the dusty books surrounding the table and sighed. "I'm researching for neither business nor pleasure, I'm afraid. I'm doing it out of necessity." She frowned thinking of why she found herself in these dodgy surroundings. "Though, a nice break is always warranted. I wasn't in your way or anything, was I? I can move if you're trying to use one of these books."

"Not at all, Miss Davis, not at all. I had actually just finished my task here when I saw you and I couldn't help but re-introduce myself. It's not every day that I get to talk to such a beautiful witch. And I find myself compelled to help you with whatever endeavour you are undertaking, if only to spare you the frown lines that were marring your brow. Land Entitlement Laws," he read from the top book of the closest pile before pushing it aside to look at the next one. "Land Seizures of the 1700s. Terribly dry reading, I should think."

She sighed. "Not my favourite topic either. I have a little problem and I'm trying to see if I have any recourse. Nothing that would interest you though, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he said, taking a chance and dropping into the seat beside her. "I work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. You'd be amazed at what laws you need to be familiar with when working with foreign wizards. For example, did you know in Thailand that it's illegal to leave home if you're not wearing... Well, perhaps I shouldn't say." He silently cursed himself for bringing up that law. Yes, it was amusing, but Tracey Davis was a modest pure-blooded witch. One simply did not mention underthings around her, it was inappropriate.

Though, he was man enough to know that he wouldn't mind seeing her in her underthings.

"At the very least, I can help you make sense of the solicitor speak these types of books always seem to be in. Or, if you tell me about the problem, I might know someone who can be of more use to you."

Tracey found she couldn't stop smiling at the wizard. Perhaps it was his easy manner, but she couldn't help but be a little charmed by him. "I can imagine what the poor Thai wizards aren't allowed to leave the house without, but thank you for that lovely image." Thinking about his offer she sighed. "My problem isn't really my problem. Actually, it's not really a problem problem, either. I'm talking in riddles, aren't I?" He smiled graciously at her so she continued. "It seems quite silly saying it out loud, but I've been looking into how one would reclaim property seized by a former Ministry. Whether there was any legal recourse for the offspring of one found guilty and sentenced to Azkaban to receive their inheritance."

She was talking about Theodore Nott, of course. Victor had studied the Liberi's file on her, learned her every secret. He knew things about her that she probably didn't even know about herself. Like the fact that her love of Nott wasn't anything more than a girlhood fancy come to life. They would not live happily ever after, not the way it was now, at least. But Nott's presence in her life gave them a edge, leverage to use to bring her to their way of thinking.

He made a show of shaking his head sadly. "The Ministry has robbed so many pure bloods of their property and dignity. The oldest families are forced into poverty, into taking menial positions in order to earn enough money to eat. Meanwhile, outsiders who do not understand our traditions force themselves into society and politics while shoving Muggle ways down our throats."

He cleared his own throat uncomfortably. "I... I shouldn't have said all of that. You might not share my beliefs, and speaking of them is no better than what the Mudbl--Muggleborns do. I apologize."

He twisted his heavy silver ring around his middle finger, putting on a show of nerves. The quaffle was on her side of the pitch now.

Tracey could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was almost like he had read her thoughts and repeated them out loud. For a brief moment she wondered if that was exactly what he had done, but she shook it off nearly as quickly as it had come.

She cleared her throat and looked around. "Well, wow, this is awkward. I'm not used to finding people who share my... politics. At least not ones who admit it so openly. It's not the most popular thing believe these days." She smirked at him. "And you should know, I've always been about what's most popular.. at least in public. Even in my own circle I try not to... 'share' my thoughts on the matter too loudly. I must have been the only Slytherin around who didn't get the memo that we were all supposed to change." She sighed, thinking about the men in her life. Blaise and Greg both becoming so chummy with Muggles and Mudbloods. It hardly mattered that Hannah was a sweet girl, she still was a symbol of how things would change - in Tracey's world and in the wizarding world in general.

"So you see my problem. I'm searching for a way to fight a monster that no one else can see for what it is. A system that keeps trying to change to suit new blood instead of defending the ones who have supported it for centuries. It seems impossible." She said with a sad smile, hoping he had a better answer than the one she kept finding herself.

"It does sometimes appear that way, doesn't it?" He pretended to ponder for a moment before leaning forward and practically whispering in her ear, making sure to blow softly into the shell at the same time. It never hurt to try, after all. "I happen to know a group of like-minded individuals, some of which have significant influence over those in power. This is the type of thing that they love to get their hands on; righting the wrongs of the past. If you're willing to exchange services, I'm sure that they would offer to help you with your problem."

He leaned backwards and studied her face, looking both for signs of intrigue and feminine awareness. He suppressed a smile when he found both.

Tracey's face burned. She wasn't used to this kind of attention not from random good looking wizards. "Exchange services? What could I have that this... group would ever need? I'm not in a position of power nor particularly talented. I suppose it would be my money then. Am I right?" She continued quickly to reassure him, "Not that I care, personally, but I like to know if I'm paying to solve my 'problem', what sorts of things may be required of a simple little witch like me."

"I think you bring more to the table than gorgeous looks and a plum bank vault," he said with a smile. "You know a lot of people, I'm sure, from your work planning events. And you are not without your own political influence. You might be asked to introduce one of the group to someone who can be of use. Or perhaps to have tea with a politician's wife and mention that the decree under review would mean that her husband would no longer be able to purchase those secret dark potions that keep her looking fit. It would be nothing that you would not feel comfortable doing, I'm sure."

"There is very little that I can't summon up the nerve to feel comfortable doing," she said with a wry smile. "And this is all you suppose would be asked of me? To look pretty, to be a public face that uses the connections I already have to further this group's influence? Why does it sound too good to be true?" Tracey closed the book sitting in front of her and clasped her hands under her chin. She was giving him her undivided attention and really hoped he say something that would win her over. The possibility that she might right the wrongs done to Theo and his mother was a big draw to her. He couldn't possibly know that she'd already almost made up her mind.

"Probably because you've become used to the way things are done now. Having to fight tooth and nail just to keep what is rightfully yours, to prevent it from being taken because of circumstances beyond your control. Like your friend, the one with the stolen inheritance. He did not deserve to have his legacy taken from he and his future children, and yet it was. There's cases of pure-blooded widows being tossed into the streets because of what their husband's did. Of brothers losing their holdings because their sister had the misfortune to marry the wrong wizard. They're trying to edge us out and unless we do something about it, pure bloods and their traditions will be a thing of the past."

He forced himself to glance down to avoid her eyes in the hope that she would mistake his high color for an embarrassed blush and not see the fervor in his eyes. It was a subject he was intensely passionate about, which he freely admitted. But too much passion could ruin a recruitment.

His words made her heart beat faster and her face grew hot with excitement that she was struggling to hide. Usually she was much better at schooling her features. Was there really people who actually thought about things like she did? "And if I were to consider aligning myself with such a group? How exactly would that work then?" she asked curiously... cautiously. She hadn't said she would, she just wondered how it would work.

"We're called the Liberi Of Sanctimonia. It's a bit pretentious, I know. But it describes what we believe in so perfectly. As to how it works... I would leave you a way to contact me and let you think about it. Once you made a decision, then we could discuss more details. I'm sorry I can't tell you more than that. History has made us wary of trusting the wrong people."

"Well then, that sounds lovely. I'd like the chance to think over some of the things you've said. I'm not usually one to jump into things without thinking long on them. You said there would be a way to contact you?"

He nodded and pulled a card from his pocket. A single peacock feather, tinted purple, graced the face of it. "All you need to do is write when and where you'd like to meet, and I'll be there. Would you mind if I mentioned your problem to some of my colleagues in the meantime? It would get some of the preliminaries out of the way at the very least. I might even be able to bring you good news when we meet again." When, not if. He knew that she would contact him again. Tracey Davis was too much of a blood snob not to. It was one of the things he liked about her. It was too bad that she had a boyfriend. Not that he minded the competition, but she was too in love with the idea of being in love with Nott to give him up so easily.

"A purple peacock. I'm intrigued," she said with a smirk. "Quite a trick on Halloween. I wish I'd been there to see it. Thank you for this. You've left me with a lot to think about." She stood and grabbed her cardigan off the back of her chair. "I'm done here, though I hope we see each other very soon." Her smirk turned into a warm smile as she held her hand out to him.

She obviously meant to shake his hand, but Victor was having none of that. This was more than just a business deal, after all. This was the start of something much bigger for her, even if she didn't realize it yet. He lifted her hand and flipped it over so that her wrist was exposed. It was delicate, pale, and the epitome of femininity. Suppressing a sly smirk, he placed a soft kiss right at her pulse point.

"I'll be awaiting your message."

Tracey couldn't keep the grin from exploding all over her face as she took her hand back. You won't be waiting long, I'm sure, she thought and she nodded to him and walked out the door. She couldn't help but turn back just before it closed behind her to see Victor still leaning casually against the desk, watching her leave.


(Summary: Tracey is approached by a very handsome, very charming member of the Liberi. After a multitude of blushes, she agrees to think on his offer.)