Samuel stood at a mirror hung between two windows of this beautiful house in Paris as night fell, the second night since his arrival in the city. The edge of an open razor glided around the contours of his jaw in a practiced motion.
His reflection was tall and rather dark. His face was unlike a regular face, one that one would see many times on the streets. And the house, it did not belong to him. It was his friend Etienne's, who had already taken off to Beauxbatons to prepare for the new term.
Etienne belonged to a very old family and carried a name that he always said would die with him. He was a good man; Samuel was fond of him. But he was not sorry to be without him on the occasion of this visit.
This visit marked, in a way, the point of many things ending. His laboratory in London was disbanded and his new quarters in Hogwarts ready for his tenure there. A chapter of Samuel's life was closing and in two weeks, a new one would open.
Maybe it was this circumstance that made him feel like something else — new and of a familiar nature at the same time — would transpire in this limbo in between.

Samuel dried his face with a towel and gave a spin to one of his metal placards that lay on a table. It showed his location to his clients if he wished so, although presently it would display this address to exactly one person and remain blank for the rest.
He got dressed. One thing was certain: he would go out tonight; he would dance. He knew just the place for it.
Uncertain was, at this point, if Miss Blackwood would join him, or if he would find a companion out there. He took a look out at the dark street and decided to give it half an hour before he would depart.