[9.22pm]

Quincy's heart was a-flutter with nerves and excitement as she prepared for her first 'date' in...well, ever. She had never actually been on a date before. She and Eddie never 'dated', they just sort of fell together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit together just right without having to play around with them at all. Or so she thought. As she applied some clear lip balm that gave just the right amount of fullness to her lips, she paused. Thinking about Eddie was not the right thing to do at this moment in time. Not when she was about to go out with another man - especially considering it was a man her ex-husband hated.

But he had really infuriated her that afternoon. The way he had reacted to the fact that she was pregnant, the fact that he then tried to act all noble and self-sacrificing. Quincy threw her lipbalm across the dresser in annoyance. Even when he wasn't there he was able to frustrate her to no end.

She took a deep sigh and ran her fingers through her slightly wavy hair. She had gone for the toussled 'Yes, I just fell out of bed this morning and naturally looked this good' look, hoping to convey that she didn't have to actually do anything to her locks. She stood up and admired her reflection in the mirror, hoping that her outfit had been the right choice. She was of average build, but had a nice waiste and hips that her black dress hugged complimentary. She smiled slightly. She hadn't had much to dress up for lately - even her birthday saw a cardigan over her shoulders. Baring flesh was not a favourite past time of hers, but this was one of those occasions where it was called for.

Perhaps she was wrong for toying with Graham's emotions like this, but she needed to make herself feel good. And the best way to make herself feel good, was to have a man tell her that she was good. After a final spritz of vanilla perfume, she grabbed her purse from the bed, made her way down the stairs and out of the front door.


[9.33 pm]

Crack.

Quincy appeared at the bottom of the main cobbled street in Hogsmeade. Yes, she was late. But she wanted to keep Graham on his toes for a little while. Considering she'd never dated before, she was feeling quite smug with how good things were going so far. The cobbles were a pitfall, however, as she hadn't taken that into consideration when choosing her ridiculously inappropriate-for-walking-in shoes. However, she thought to herself, the shoes were a must for this outfit, and really brought out the muscle definition of her legs. If only she could make it to more stable ground without falling over, the night so far would be a success.

Halleluja, she made it to the front entrance of Signature. There was an enormous queue of young and old alike, all eager to make their grande entrance into the infamous club. The couple had arranged to meet outside of the entrance, and after a moment of not spotting her date, Quincy wondered whether maybe Graham had been too busy to warrant leaving the comfort of the castle walls.

CRACK

[9:35pm]

Time positioned power, and with such knowledge in mind Graham decidedly arrived five minutes past the assigned meeting time.  Through his school years, Quincy had always been top dog, the one to impress.  But for once, Graham felt as if he held a bit of power.  She was meeting him, on a date, behind her husband's back.  Graham was king.  

He shaved earlier that day, the only thing he would admit to doing in preparation for the date.  She had asked out the groomed Graham, and to appear otherwise would be disastrous.  He knew he'd be skating on thin ice as it was by coming late, but he had to find some power.  Quincy dated equals, not inferiors.

When he arrived, it took Graham a moment to find his date.  He was half-afraid she hadn't shown at all when he saw a similar looking blonde.  No.  That couldn't be her.  Yet it was.  Graham cautiously walked up to the striking young woman and chanced a smile.  It was her.  Even with the common blonde hair she was divine, unapproachable and erotic.  He desperately tried to keep his eyes from the peek-hole of her dress but it was a losing battle.  He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how dismal he must look in his robes.  His button-up black shirt was from Gladrag's, and even his best pair of black slacks were a little dingy.  He was a herbologist, it went with the territory, but Quincy's presence left him ashamed for not matching her eye for style. 

"You look fantastic," he finally stated once he came to her side.  Fantastic hardly did her justice, but it was the closest adjective he could summon that was appropriate for the conversation.  "Shall we go in?" he asked, eager to get her to the alcoholic drinks within.  Liquor was probably his only chance of getting anywhere with her that night.  He gestured towards the club doors, one arm extending behind her back.  Did he dare touch the small of her back to guide her through the doors?  His fingers tensed with hesitation mere centimeters from the fabric.  Be smooth he kept telling himself, and after a moment's gathered bravado he made contact.  Like a high-class gentleman, Graham escorted her, not having realized he was even holding his breath until he touched her divine dress.  His fingertips pulsed in ecstasy as he imagined the smoothness of her skin.  Maybe tonight would be different than all the rest.

Quincy heard a noise behind her and turned to find Graham behind her with his tongue positively hanging out of his mouth. She felt a little colour rise to her cheeks - it was a nice feeling. He was paying attention to her, and she liked it. She deserved it. She lifted her right hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, flashing a smile in his direction but averting her eyes in perhaps the most flirtatious way she could. She had never been one to assume she was able to succesfully flirt, but this presented a situation in which she was able to try and see whether perhaps it was just Eddie who seemed immune to a decent looking woman [who just so happened to be his wife] flirting with him. Or maybe it was because she was his wife. He could be quite old fashioned at times, so it wouldn't have surprised her.

But she had told herself she wouldn't think about her ex-husband that night, so she pushed the thought out of her mind as quickly as she could. It was helped by Graham stating that she looked fantastic; clearly at this moment in time she was fickle, and fickle people liked compliments. "You look really good, Graham." she replied, putting her hand gently on his sleeve.

"Shall we go in?"

She nodded eagerly, feeling the desperate need for something smooth and clearly non-alcoholic due to her predicament. His fingers lightly found their way to the small of her back to help guide her through the doors. She smirked slightly as they made their way over the threshold and heard the music pulsing from above in the club. "Thanks for agreeing to come out with me." she spoke over her shoulder, her head turned towards him very slightly. "I know it was short notice, but I'm glad you came."

"You look really good, Graham."

If Graham were a female, he would be positively a-twitter.  A compliment from Quincy was balm to his ears, and did much to heal the scars from his own Hogwarts days.  They had been quite mean, brutal as children often were, and Graham could often still hear their shouts in his inner monologue.  'Greasy Graham' often rang in his ears when he passed by uncovered mirrors, not to mention a few other monikers of a more obscene nature.  Her touch on his sleeve was as if a fairly had lighted upon his clothing.  It was a fragile breath of beauty, something to be preserved and treasured.  There he was, with an entire butterfly upon his arm, a shy nymph, one to be protected--and Graham was just the man to do so.

The pulsing music almost seemed too violent for their outing.  A picnic, an art gallery, or perhaps boating upon a loch would be more appropriate.  Her head turned, and Graham could swear she had the profile of a Mona Lisa--but ten times more beautiful and enchanting.  "It is my pleasure," he replied, truly meaning every word.  She was one of the few things besides herbology and potions that brought him pleasure, bliss even.  That she was glad he came was even better.  To think that Graham might love, much less be loved in return was heart-breakingly wonderful.

They reached a table, and Graham pulled out Quincy's chair from underneath the table for her to seat herself.  "Madame," he purred graciously, his hands resting on the back of the chair.  "What would you like? he asked, ready to fetch her the Hope Diamond if she so requested it...and it was on sale.

"Madame,"

He was quite the gentleman, pulling her chair out for her. She smiled graciously as she sat in the chair slowly, and his hands lingered over the back. She was positive, were she to make a sudden movement one of two things would happen; either he would be so startled he would run for the hills, or he would eat her. Or both - eat her and then run for the hills. Either way, she felt the need to move very carefully and slowly.

"What would you like?"

"I will have....a...pumpkin juice, please?" It was at that very moment in time she kicked herself mentally. He wold no doubt ask why she was not choosing an alcoholic drink, and she would have to come up with some lame excuse. Or tell him the truth. Either would be excruciating. If he wasn't already planning on running for the hills, he would when she told him her 'good news'. Or maybe he liked eating babies too? From what she'd heard of him as a teacher, it wouldn't surprise her.

"I will have....a...pumpkin juice, please?"

"Of course," he replied.  Ensuring that she was seated well, Graham made his way to the bar.  The moment his back turned, Graham realized he had been holding his breath.  In an almost audible sigh, he returned to his memories, counting each step he made and whether it had been gentlemanly enough or pleasant enough, or even aggressive enough.  Quincy needed a man to sweep her off her feet, she deserved it.  If only Graham were confident enough that the man could be him. 

"Pumpkin juice and a gin an' tonic," he spoke crisply, his mind still five minutes behind.  He looked down briefly and muttered an expletive.  He forgot to polish his shoes.  How of all things, all things in the world, could he have forgotten to polish his shoes? They were scuffed from work and he was certain Quincy had noticed.  It was as sure as rain fell from the heavens.  It was sweet of her to have not left, if it were ten years ago she most assuredly would have, he knew.  A woman like Quincy didn't tolerate a man with scuffed shoes.  He glanced back at the bar, ensuring she had her back to him before he drew his wand.  Pointing down, he found his mind blank for the spell to polish and instead shot a small jet of black ink onto the spot of muffed leather.  There, good as new. 

He stashed his wand back into his pocket, exchanging it for a few sickles.  The bartender returned with their drinks, and Graham took a quick sip of his own before he made his way back.  Fresh with courage from a pair of clean shoes and having procured a drink for his lady, he set the glass in front of her before taking his own seat.  "How have you been?" He asked, not quite sure how to begin a date conversation, "I hope Mungo's hasn't kept you too busy."

As Graham went up to the bar to get the drinks, Quincy sighed and almost lifted her hand to her head. What on earth was she doing? She was making a mess out of everything. Leading this poor man on to get back at her ex-husband, whose child she was carrying and whose best friend she had very nearly slept with. Her nose wrinkled slightly. Come to think of it, she sounded very cheap right now.

She shook her head a little, rolling her shoulders back and forth to try and loosen them up. Now that she had dragged Graham from the confines of his greenhouses, she wanted to at least let him enjoy himself, even if nothing was going to seriously ever come out of it.

Graham came back with the drinks and Quincy smiled at him. "Thanks." She reached out for her pumpkin juice as Graham sat opposite her and attempted to make small talk. She took a sip of her juice as he asked whether she was being kept busy at the hospital. "They certainly know how to work me hard." she grinned. "But what about you? How is Hogwarts treating you?"