They’d been getting along. Not the ‘oh Merlin’s big hairy beard, I want to rip off your underwear and make hippogriff noises’ kind of getting along; more the ‘we’re still married but I kind of hate you yet feel obliged to be polite’ kind of getting along. It was an awkward situation, and while Gen tended to enjoy a good bit of awkwardness, she found this situation less than appealing.

Today, she had agreed to eating lunch with her ex-not-ex-husband, father of her child and former-not-former-death eater. It was entirely complicated, their relationship. She’d agreed to Friday because her time would be limited. The final edit for this week’s copy would be on her desk in an hour for her final approval. It was the Saint Patricks’ Day edition. Lots of green and Irishness. That meant she had an excuse to leave and cut their lunch short. Gen also supposed it might irk him should she leave for the job she was well aware he disapproved of. Let him disapprove. There was something quirkily thrilling about his irritation. It meant there was still something there, didn’t it?

Gen, stepping into the café, was dressed for a day in the office followed by a Saint Paddy’s night out. Her sparkly heels were a dark green and covered in the usual glitter. She wore skinny black trousers, an emerald blouse, and a black leather jacket. Her hair was fairly straight, but with a few streaks of emerald green. Her ring finger was still glaringly bare. Across the room, she saw Leo. Was it her imagination, or did he look better with each rendezvous? Freedom suited him and it only served to make things even more complicated.

“Have you seen the specials? My assistant mentioned a mean kale and pumpkin savoury muffin.” The witch asked with a smirk as she approached the table. Leo would probably never be the sort to even entertain a kale and pumpkin muffin.

The quaint little coffee shop was decorated in green, and his wife was dressed to match it as she entered through the front door. Leo spotted her almost immediately, following her with his own green eyes as she confidently made her way across the room to his table.

Genny had always been eye-catching, and she'd clearly spent the past thirteen years learning how to captivate attention. Leo raised his eyebrows at her as she came to sit, taking in the sparkly heels, the streaks of green in her hair. She had certainly gone out of her way to dress up for a simple day in the office, even one as licentious as the Witch Weekly.

"Kale?" he repeated for politeness' sake, peering past her at the chalkboard menu over the counter. This wasn't the sort of place he would have chosen to dine on his own: it was a little too charmingly Muggle, as many places in Diagon Alley had become in the years since he'd been out in the world. But he was willing to tolerate it regardless. Meeting Genny out in the world meant that everyone knew they were spending time together.

Genny had yet to sit down, so he took a moment to take in her appearance up close, letting his gaze move slowly over her. The green hair was something that would have seemed dangerously daring back in their Hogwarts days, and yet here she was, now in her forties.

"You look nice," he told her, his green eyes unreadable as he gave her a faint smile. "Looking forward to your afternoon at the office?"

“Kale.” Gen confirmed, mildly amused as her estranged husband made his own assumptions. Having been a meat and potatoes fan, she wasn’t certain the wizard had even heard of kale before his incarceration. His tastes would probably be even blander after 13 years inside dining on what she could only presume was gruel and slop. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight throughout his stay at Chez Azkaban, and Gen noted that he was finally starting to look more himself, if not for the aging.

It was impossible not to notice the sharp green eyes taking her in at his leisure, and Gen pressed her lips together in mild displeasure before offering a strained smile and sitting down.
“I’ve an event later.” she explained, choosing to ignore the compliment. Gen wanted to be open to whatever this was, but their previous conversations and his birthday present dumped on her bed were etched too clearly in her memory. “We should order. I’ve only got an hour. I need to approve tomorrow’s edition or my print master will get his knickers in an awful twist. Deadlines!” Brown eyes danced over his face. “You know how it is.” An awkward frown then twisted the witch’s features. “Well, did, I guess. Sorry.”

...an event later...
...only an hour...

Something quirked at Leo's brow, as if a fly had landed alongside his eyebrow and had to be quickly urged alight again. Always in a hurry, his Genny. He doubted if she even consciously knew if she were scared of him, or afraid of what she might do if she allowed herself more than an hour in his company. For as long as he'd known her, she'd always been the brave one: quick to jump headfirst in to the dalliance with the handsome Slytherin boy, to defy her parents and drop out of Hogwarts, to move into that squalid little flat with him in Knockturn Alley. It had once seemed as if nothing could ever phase her.

And yet, here she was, eager to make excuses and set artificial limits even when he'd only asked her to lunch.

Her last comment was a little bit of a knife twist. Leo's green eyes shifted past her again to study the chalkboard, which was full of menu items that likely wouldn't have been considered edible the last time he'd been out to lunch with his wife thirteen years ago. No, it had been a long time since he'd had to worry about deadlines. He'd had exactly the opposite in Azkaban: long stretches of endless, torturous monotony that had left him with nothing to do but wait.

"Why don't you order for me?" His shamrock-haired wife, dressed in green and glitter, eager to get on to her libertine night out. Leo gave her a mild smile, as if they were sharing in some private joke together. "Even without deadlines to worry about, I'm afraid I haven't had time to catch up on the latest trends in savory muffins."

A lot of thoughts were currently occupying a great deal space rent free in Gen’s head. She wanted to know what Leo was hoping to gain from a lunch out with her other than perhaps the eyes of onlookers and the instigation of gossip. She was internally berating herself for turning out looking so Queen G that drawing most of the gazes in the small café was a given. Of course, the biggest question in her mind was still about Leo’s possible guilt and what he planned to do to her when he obtained the opportunity. And now? Now her mind was filling up with several lunch possibilities that would convey her openness to forgive and support yet fear, pride and protectiveness over her son all in one dish. A big ask, no?

Attempting to not appear at all affected, Gen took an intake of breath through her teeth, eyebrows raising.
“Talk about pressure, Gamp” she said. Turning in her seat to glance over at the blackboard of specials, Gen began to read out the options, “Roast pumpkin and feta tarts, not terrible, full of butter. Something you might benefit from. Moroccan baked eggs and sausages…not sure what makes them Moroccan. Oh, there’s the kale muffin. That’s a no. Nope. Nope. Too greasy. Too nouvelle vogue. Ah, there it is.” She turned back to Leo, looking moderately satisfied with herself. “Beans on toast. Well, almost. We can ask them to remove the lightly poached egg and avocado to replace with baked beans. If you are really nice to the waitress, she might see if they’ve got some brown sauce and those crappy little sausages they used to put in with the beans.” Back in the days when they’d had no money, Genny and Leo had had their fill of the cheap little muggle tins of beans and sausages.