It was evening, she was off, and there was nothing that was going to keep her inside on a night like this. The week had been dreadfully long and boring. Work seemed to only drag on and she was starting to find that it droned on without hope of becoming exciting. Where was the entertainment she had hoped would be hers with a straight job.

Tonight would be the night to let loose. Picking out an outfit was the hard part. With her wardrobe being rather plentiful, she had found herself pulling bits and pieces out and not like them, going back to find more. Finally deciding on a black skirt, with red heels, and a lace choker with a red gem she checked herself out in the mirror. It appeared her hair needed some work, so she pulled out her wand to help curl and place it up in a curled ponytail. To hold it she put a blood red flower with soft petals. Smiling at the get up she grabbed up her cloak and purse.

With little more then a wave of her wand, Emily found herself at the club in Hogsmeade known as Signature. The Atmosphere was light and fun, and she could use a drink or two. Stepping inside she check her cloak at the the door and headed in towards the bar. What was it about women on the prowl that led them to clubs, pubs,and taverns she never knew but it was like a calling she couldn't fight. A beacon of warmth beckoning her closer and closer to the liquor and lights.

Outfit

In the first week of school, Graham had consumed both of his bottles of scotch that was kept only for emergencies.  He had sworn off drinking when he first entered the school, claiming he was on the straight and narrow.  After five years, Graham felt he had completed enough of his penance that he could drink a little.  The stress of dealing with children almost made it mandatory, and it was all he could do then to keep it to only a drink or two every now and then.  Now he was almost completely jaded, thanks to this year's crop of first years.  The emergency bottles of liquor had been brought out after the first day, and it didn't take much to finish them. 

It was Saturday evening; Without hall duty to keep him busy, Graham found himself headed towards Hogsmeade to refresh his stock.  A brisk walk into the Forbidden Forest yielded a CRACK!, and he stepped forth into the small town.  He was still avoiding a brute from Hog's Head who he had 'looked at the wrong way,' and so Graham reluctantly found himself within the multi-colored lights of Signature.  He hated the noise, he hated the lights, and he hated the adolescent, unemployed heirs that frequented the club.  But he needed their alcohol. 

He pushed his way through the squirming youth that dripped with pheromones, and made  his way to the bar.   Small as he was, he had nothing to attract attention to himself, and it took three shouts at the bartender to catch his eye.  "Get me a firewhiskey, and bag up three  bottles of your cheapest scotch," he shouted, aggravated by the assault on his eardrums.  While he waited for his beverage, Graham surveyed the club, his eyes landing on various displayed anatomy until he found just his type.  She was a bit older, but still young.  Black hair.  Clear skin. Gorgeous eyes and a latent air of superiority that was suddenly making the air a bit warmer. 

Graham took the drink offered, and gave up the prized bar stool.  It took him a moment, particularly without spilling his glass, but he managed to sidle up to the attractive woman.  "Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?" he asked, his voice a bit gruffer than he liked but still oozing with a charm that was uniquely his own.

There was a certain type that frequented the Signature club, those who were acted the fool on the floor blowing Daddy's hard earned galleons. Emily knew the type, she grew up with them. Coming from money herself, it was no surprise that she would associate with their kind, however she wanted more than just being the daughter of wealth and privilege. Taking on a job with St. Mungo's exceeded the expectations set for the Cooper children.

The Cooper line was expected to flourish, which is why she had a little brother. Howard was looked to for keeping their blood clean and to continue to create Cooper children for generations to come. Emily was meant to marry well, have children, and show up to social events. One out of two wasn't bad, she could be social when she wanted to.

Marriage and babies didn't work for her mum, what made anyone think she would care much for it? Granted she didn't really know her mother, what memories she had were faded the pictures worn and fraying on the edges. There was a large painting at the main estate where her mother is sitting on a chair with a small smile which vanishes and comes back as if she is watching them for most of the day. Granted her mother's portrait never spoke like she had hoped, Emily used to wish that the person in there could give her a connection she never had. No such luck.

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?"

The line that has been used for hundreds of years, was being used on her at that very moment. Looking every bit like the younger version of her mother, Emily turned her head to the side to see who was slinging the ancient line her way. A small smile creased over her face, the red of her lipstick shimmering slightly as she gave him a cursory glance, "If that is what you wish to do, I see no reason to keep you from it," with a gesture she nodded towards the empty stool beside her. "Please won't you join me," Emily continued to look at him with interest wondering who he was.

"If that is what you wish to do, I see reason to keep you from it,"

Graham suddenly felt as if he were speaking to a younger incarnation of some centuries-old goddess.  If he were a weaker man or more prone to superstition, he might have believed that.  Instead, he merely backed off what no one but himself would call 'his game.'  He didn't stand still at Hogwarts with his ears closed.  No, Graham knew what was going on in the world and how the conventions of society were quickly changing.

He took the seat next to her, and debated briefly between whether to order high or low end.  She had the body of a high class drink, but the language of a low-end.  He opted for the middle, and ordered a beer--imported.  "For you," he offered, graciously handing her the bottle of Stella Artois.  It wasn't often he spent his money on others, let alone women, and while he hoped it would be a good investment Graham couldn't help but cringe as he paid the bartender.  He was still weighing his chances with her or the blonde bimbo shimmying up against a column.  And if Graham had to pay for two drinks that night, well that was two more drinks than he ever intended to buy. 

"So, do you come here often?" he queried, already plotting a way to her bedroom.  Of course his was closer, but he didn't want to deal with helping her leave in the morning.  What if she got angry and tried to destroy the greenhouse? He had enough students working on that as it was, he didn't need any additional trouble.  He subtly let his gaze linger on her more prominent features.  She might talk like the sphinx, but he was willing to bet she was a minx in the sheets.

The man was bold coming up next to her the way he did. Then to offer her something like a beer, it had to be one of the less exciting drinks he could have offered on the menu. Instead of rejecting it however, Emily decided to play along, who knew what the night could bring. The man before her was at least decent looking, and she liked the cheek he had throwing out old lines as if he was some suave bloke. Obviously judging by the offer he wasn't, however feeling very charitable this night, she let it slide.

When she went out, it was usually high end drinks and company. Family life had always been top society, never was she to associate with the lower class, the riff raff. Anyone deemed too seedy for a social function were not someone that the Cooper family wanted their little girl mingling with.

Too bad she had a taste for the bad boys, and dirt that the other half had to offer. Men of darker promise generally made the list of company she wanted. Allowing her eyes to fall over him, she recrossed her legs allowing her hand to find her knee. Given the angle she now held herself, Emily knew that it would give herself great angle to be viewed at. "No, actually I don't come here often, do you?" She chirped back deciding to take up his offering with her left hand, allowing the bottle to meet her lips she took a sip. "What's your name stranger?" Pausing licking her lips, "Do you always swing by Night Clubs buying drinks for ladies sitting all by their lonesome?"

"No, actually I don't come here often, do you?"

The voluptuous vixen had teeth, and Graham was glad to see she wasn't one of the simpler women who fell for any dime line.  "Neither do I," he drawled, leaning back against the bar to take on a similarly relaxed pose.  Although hers placed on display much better than Graham's.  His eyes raked over her, savoring the view.  "A busy man such as myself rarely has the time.  But when I do, I always make it worth my while," he replied, giving her a lecherous wink.  There were reasons why Graham didn't go out much, not from preservation of time but rather the constant urging from those Graham actually interacted with on a more intimate basis, to never do so again.  He rarely heeded their advice.  

It was all about presentation, and for this catch Graham knew he'd have to play it up.  Here he wasn't some meager professor or a failed entrepreneur, he was a man.  And she was a girl that he was about to make his, as it should be.  "Bombay," he replied, lingering a moment like the suave countryman often mentioned as a role model, "Graham Bombay.  And I only buy drinks for the beautiful ones," he added, following every movement of her lips.  

"And you?" he asked, propping his elbows back against the bar in attempt to showcase his own pectorals, though mostly hidden by his robes.  "Or do you go by your true name, Aphrodite?"  A smug smile graced his lips, oozing the arrogant charm that characterized most of his dealings with women.

The glitz and glam of Signature was not lost on Emily. There were people from all walks of life, not just the rich and well off. Though she was a standard in the socialite functions, Emily also enjoyed to get down in the muck and the mire with the rest of the witches and wizards. To get involved with the more dangerous lot was pleasing to her, and intriguing. While her co-workers looked to play for the light and respectable, Emily was busy sniffing around where she didn't belong.

"A busy man such as myself rarely has the time.  But when I do, I always make it worth my while,"

Emily cocked a brow and attempted to get a good look at him. "What do you do that is so important?" Her fingers rolled over the curly black hair with a sly smile. This bloke seemed a little too scrubbed to be dirty, and a little too intriguing to be completely straight and on the level. To learn more about him seemed like the only way to tell. When he told her that his name was Graham Bombay, she chuckled to herself. "Well Bombay, Graham they call me Cooper, Emily Cooper. Though I have heard the Aphrodite reference once or twice. "

Baited, hook, line... and a heavy sinker. The arrogance was a plus, if she wanted a wuss she would date someone she worked with. There had to be something there, and she was interested to see how far that would go. "So my idle flatter of the night," she took a swig of the beer once more and scooted a little closer to him recrossing her legs when she was once more settled, "Tell me what is it that you do for fun... I find myself curious about you." Emily could see it in his eyes he was interested and she liked to have people pay attention to her.

He smiled at the arched brow.  She was on the hook, and now all Graham had to do was reel her in.  It was almost exhilarating, or it would be if he weren't too worried about screwing it up.  But if Quincy St. James could fall in love him, surely this delectable morsel would follow suit in a heartbeat.  Poor girl, he could almost pity her.  She had no idea who she was up against.

"I'm a herbologist," he responded casually, as if he wasn't knowledgeable on many of life's secrets revealed through mother nature herself.  Taking a cue from the Isaac Fraiser book of pretension, Graham smiled at using his enemy's famous ploy for his own devices.   "My publisher's been hounding me for days for a second manuscript," he added although it was half true.  He did have a publisher, and it would be his second book.  There just weren't any hounds involved, yet.

He smiled at her little name game.  That she aped his own template was endearing and held a promise of his dominance for the evening.  He certainly knew what position he would be taking that night, not that it was ever a question.  But there was another question, one he was somewhat confused on.  Fun? When did he ever have fun? Fun was for children, puppies and elderly women still trying to be children, not Graham Bombay.  He paused for a moment, trying to find an answer to bewitch her yet still convey that he was a fun-loving guy.  Oddly enough the latter proved more difficult. 

What could he confess? That he put together jigsaw puzzles? Or grafted hybrids? Or cultivated his garden? Instead, he chose an answer that flew out from some unknown corner of his brain.  "I--I curse people," he responded, somewhat shocked that a true yet repressed statement slipped from between his lips.  It was an old habit from his days at Jigger's.  In the early morning, he and another intern would hide behind Vane's cart and hex innocent shopkeepers getting an early start on their day.  It was quite amusing, but he hadn't done so in years, partly as atonement for his sins and partly because he'd get in trouble for it at the school.  Students could serve a detention but professors were fired for such hurtful shenanigans. Azkaban was a much more powerful incentive to behave than losing the House cup.