In a concealed alleyway in one of the many corners of Diagon Alley, there is a quiet, but rather an elegant establishment. The renowned enterprise is called, "Madam Zenarie's, Emporium of Fine Delicacies, Treats, and the Exotic." The well-known establishment was frequented by those belonging to the upper crust of the wizarding world or those with great wealth. For even a single night with the cheapest of Madam Zenarie's flowers and herbs was at least worth one hundred galleons, never mind the more expensive flowers, the most popular, and rarest of them all.
Madam Zenarie treated her flowers and herbs rather well since the Madam had once herself been one of the most famous flowers of London in her younger years. Not that she still wasn't a looker, but despite her age, she still turned many a man's heads. It was simply the fact that she longer took coin when taking a man into her bed, but rather simply for her own personal enjoyment.
The classy establishment is filled with many voices, some belonging to gorgeous young women in silk gowns that utterly charmed and captured the patron's attention. Then there are a few herbs walking about in elegant robes and suits. Some of the herbs are like the flowers, pretty and feminine, others strong, attractive, and muscular. Overall a wide variety of flowers and herbs to choose from, a flavor for every patron to be found.
More than a few patrons simply lounge about chatting as they rest in chaises and catch up with old friends or acquaintances. While others are led upstairs to the private bedrooms to be serviced by their favorite flower or herb of the day. Excluding those that already selected a flower or herb for the evening, there is a chandelier-lit dining hall filled with fine food, and exotic delicacies for the patrons to enjoy a meal, before or after the main course.
There are even a select group of patrons that solely attended Madam Zenarie's Emporium for the cuisine and not even for viewing nor partaking of the many flowers or herbs that resided in her establishment. Though rarer in number, these patrons were a large enough group that she hired only the best of cooks that the wizarding world had to offer. More than a few squibs retired flowers, and herbs were openly employed in her kitchens and were cherished as a most valuable commodity that they in fact were.
Among the cooks was a pretty, but scarred squib by the name of Tamara. After the beating from Mulciber, not even the best healers paid by Madam Zenarie could remove the scars caused by dark curses. With the payment received from the Mulciber family, Tamara had redeemed her debt and thrown herself into becoming a chef that Madam Zenarie could be proud of. And thus far, Tamara showed great talent and was quickly becoming one of the rising cooks within Madam Zenarie's staff members.
A furrow appears on Madam Zenarie's brow as she recalls her current task. The Potentate of London had requested to use a private room that evening. She had no choice but to go and welcome him and his guests. Still, it was better to deal with the devil that one knows.
Shrugging off such unpleasant thoughts from her mind, Madam Zenarie paused in front of a tastefully placed mirror to peer at her reflection. She was greeted by a lovely visage of a cream-skinned, beautiful middle-aged woman in a silk blue gown. Her kohl-lined eyes glow thanks to her light-colored eyes paired with exotic almost styled makeup, and lush, plump lips.
Her figure still caused many a man to flush with desire despite her age. She was still slim and properly curved in all the right places showcasing her taut flesh. There are light silver tracks in her wheat-colored hair, but her face nary had a wrinkle nor blemish regardless of her age. Not that it hadn't cost her a pretty galleon to maintain, but it was well worth the exorbitant price to maintain her youth.
Having satisfied her vanity, for the time being, Madam Zenarie nods at her reflection in satisfaction, before gracefully sashaying away. Madam Zenarie makes her way down the hall into the front hall and begins to greet and mingle with the patrons of her establishment. With trained ease, she smoothly navigates the various currents of power found within wizarding society as she moves from patron to patron.
Madam Zenarie hides a smile at spotting a small, portly young man with rumbled hair wearing a lime-green bowler hat, pinstriped cloak with a scarlet tie, and pointed purple boots. It was Cornelius Fudge from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. The wizard had utterly become besotted with the Katelyn. A perky young witch with wheat-colored hair, a large bosom, and a cheery smile. And t'was not only Cornelius Fudge, who was besotted for the same could be said for Katelyn as the girl had ceased to take any patrons except for Cornelius Fudge.
The rumors among Madam Zenarie's more romantically inclined flowers and herbs whispered that Cornelius Fudge thought to redeem Katelyn, and even ask for her hand in marriage. However, Madam Zenarie had lived most of her life in the pleasure business, and only twice had she ever witnessed such a scene come to life. It was highly unlikely, but not impossibility merely improbable.
Cornelius Fudge nervously approaches Madam Zenarie clutching his lime-green bowler hat in his hands. Closely following him is the taller, well-besotted witch and flower, Katelyn. Arching her brow at the two of them, Madam Zenarie says, "Good Evening, Mr. Fudge. What may I do for you and Katelyn this evening?"
Cornelius Fudge nervously draws himself up to his full height, (which isn't much, to be frank), and says, "Madam, I-!" His voice begins to falter, but Katelyn squeezes her lover's shoulder to boost his confidence.
Cornelius Fudge takes a deep breath before a determined bulldog-like expression appears on his face. Clutching his lime-green bowler hat tight enough to begin to bend, he says, "Madam Zenarie, I would like to redeem Katelyn's debt, and wed her."
Katelyn flushes as her hand joy and pride grips Cornelius Fudge's shoulder tighter causing the diamond engagement ring on her finger to glisten under the chandelier light. As strange as it might sound, Katelyn had fallen for the peppery, plumb wizard. He had no taste in fashion whatsoever, but he was always sincere and true with her. Most importantly, he loved her and her in turn. She knew that some of the other flowers and herbs were envious of her fortune and out of spite would whisper to her many times that her dear, Cornelius would abandon her for a new flower the first chance he got. But he never had, and she'd been his only flower since the night that they had first met.