8:00pm on January 10, 2010
The Three Broomsticks

At what age does it become acceptable to date a former student? Is it ever socially acceptable? And even if society accepts it – how could Minerva ever approve of it? She’d had dinner with several of her previous students, and even holds close friendships with quite a few of them, but to become romantically involved was simply out of the question. So silly. Why she’d even allowed herself to become part of the bachelorette auction was a mystery to the elder witch. She could very easily have just donated funds to the hospital without the embarrassing aftermath of a date. Tonight was bound to be absolutely horrid.

The wind outside was viscous and cold as it wrapped itself around the seasoned Headmistress. She’d requested private dining chambers in The Three Broomsticks over a week ago, and even reserved the poor bloke a room for the night – just in case he didn’t feel like travelling back to London after their evening ended. Not to share, of course! That’d be preposterous and scandalous! He’d have the room alone or he could find nightly company elsewhere!

The basket hanging from Minerva’s arm was filled with special dishes prepared lovingly by the Headmistress, all by herself. It wasn’t often that Minerva had a chance to cook, and she hoped that her skills in the kitchen weren’t completely sub-par. When she reached the pub, she handed off her basket to the barkeep, letting the kindly gent take it to the back to heat and finish preparing to bring out in a bit. A member of the wait staff brought Minerva to a sitting chamber and brought out their finest bottle of elf-made wine.

She waved off the lass with a kind smile as she placed the bottle of wine upon the small table. She’d wait until her counterpart came before starting drinking, though she was sure she’d need to drink quite a bit to get through this evening.

He should have worn a bow tie!

Cynric Rosier walked out of the biting winter, fiddling with his scarf like a little boy as he surveyed The Three Broomsticks curiously. It was warm in here, lit with a golden light. Perfect for a date! A date with a lioness! Oh he had known the moment he read that elusive darling tiny summary who it belonged to! And to be proven right...

A gruff voice interrupted his thought. "Rosier?" the inn bar fellow inquired and Rascal's eyebrows leapt up pleasantly. He was expected, how lovely.

"Yes! But hold on-" he smiled at the wizard and made a gesture, jerking a bouquet of fragrant white flowers from thin air. "Much better, don't you think? Oh nevermind, lead the way." The air in their wake drifted with the scent of roses- not at all intoxicating but light, like something carried in by the early Spring.

The door to the private dining room was thick and heavy. It creaked open noisily, warning its occupant of an arrival, and Rascal shooed away the barkeep before he finally slipped through the gaping entrance. The setting went right over his head as soon as he saw her. Tart lips, sharp eyes and a bearing that would scare a hopping boggart out of its skin. Obviously beautiful.

"Professor McGonagall!" the schoolboy grin returned, shy, and he found himself performing an elaborate bow towards the seated woman before glancing up cheekily. "You'll forgive an author his cliches, when I say that you haven't aged a day." He straightened his lanky frame startlingly while offering a galant hand to her. "It is good to see you again."

It truly was. He wouldn't have spent a fortune of galleons on just any old witch.