Juliana froze when she realized what the woman was referring to. How could she have been so stupid? She'd taken such care to be inconspicuous, up until that moment, and then to do something like that! This woman seemed inclined to let it slip, but if she hadn't already known what it was Jules could've very well caused an incident, and what would have happened then? If things got out of hand and the Ministry became involved, she could find her reputation and her research at risk — to say nothing, of course, of the risk she would have put A in through her negligence. He might still be on his way here when the place was under Ministry quarantine and memory charms were being handed out like party favors to every Muggle in the pub.

Face white, she silently took her wand back and replaced it in her pocket. A part of her, mortified by her foolishness, wanted to simply leave. She shouldn't have been here in the first place, and while she was fortunate to have met another witch (by all appearances), she couldn't justify staying when her presence was, as she realized now, adding an unnecessary and frankly unacceptable risk for her research subject.

But then it occurred to her: could it really be coincidence that, in a pub full of Muggles, the person who'd approached her was unfazed by the sight of a wand?

"I'm not usually so careless," Jules insisted in a quiet and still rather shaken voice. Who was this woman, and what twist of fate had brought her here? Of course her first thought was A, but there was no reason A would have recognized her, any more than Jules would recognize him or her. A was the only other member of magical society with a reason for being in this particular pub, though, because it didn't serve wizards, generally.

Was it possible that even while she'd been morally torn over the idea of waiting out to catch a glimpse of A, he — or she — had done the same to her? The stakes were much higher for A, of course, and she'd written to give him the location and the date beforehand. If A had been here earlier, when she'd rented the room, he could have pieced it together. He could even have followed her from here to the Diagon post office and had a suspicion confirmed.

Even the fact that she was here with someone else didn't discount her entirely, Jules realized. A had at least one friend who knew, and werewolves were, in her experience, much more likely to confide in family members than friends. This woman had said she was here with her brother — either of them could have been A, feasibly.

Merlin, she had botched this. All she had to do was leave, and stick to the plan she'd laid out in her letter — now, for the first time in nearly six years of research, she was likely about to lose a subject due to breach of trust.

There was a sudden sick feeling in her stomach, and she wanted a drink of water to quell it, but the only thing available was the drink she'd ordered with dinner. She picked it up and polished it off, but it didn't help. "Do you live in London?" she asked, trying to seem nonchalant. She didn't know, and so she couldn't give anything away, but — Merlin, what a mess.