Outfit | Title Reference

If there was anything she had picked up from George, it was How To Put Your Date In An Sticky Situation In Three Quick Steps. One Invite her him to the most out-of-the-way, ridiculously inconvenient place possibly accessible. Two Make sure it’s not so accessible. Three Commence with the date-ness.

And thus, Lou had triumphed: the tiny, cramped cupboard with its crate-box dinner table and its exposed ceiling beams full of cobwebs and brooms older than Lou’s mum’s knickers were “quaint” decor of tonight’s oh-so-haute hot spot. Because, really, Edmund had said it himself: Valentine’s Day was rubbish. Tonight was February the 14th. And Lou was determined to see through with it.

With such titular information posted on the door in her familiar, hurried scrawl, Lou had christened the old broom closet just that: Fourteen February. The dining locale so exclusive that they never took reservations and only ever had room for two.

Lou lit the last of the candles with her wand, the flame catching its reflection in the polished gleam of her new gold earrings. The gift had been perfect, exactly her, and she’d put them on as soon as she’d ripped open the package. They went well with her ballsy ballerina garb and gold slippers. She was a wayward Cynderella with an intimate agenda.

Stooping down onto one of the pillows she’d brought along in lieu of chairs, the Gryffindor bent over the crate table and tapped her wand three times against the glass beside her empty plate. A sudden pop announced the presence of one of Hogwarts’ finest chefs: the house-elf Cordon.

“Monsieur Bleu,” Lou called him, pronouncing the imaginary surname with a certain flair, twisting her neck to the side, tilting her chin down, and raising one cheek absentmindedly toward the door in her peripheral. “How’s the nosh coming along?”

Edmund had received Lou's invitation with anticipation and excitement. His schoolboy nerves were a thing of the past, and Klint had regained that usual cocky charm of a lust-filled libertine. Valentine's Day was something Edmund had never really understood; so soppy, and so false. Seeing usually normal guys bend over backwards for a girl and vice versa seemed a little put on. Sure, hang out and have fun, but don't act out of character. Edmund wasn't keen on compromising his personality for anybody. Not even Lou.

Ten minutes later than he'd anticipated (Hogwarts, even in his final year, was still beyond labyrinthine) he approached the broom cupboard, a smirk appearing on his face. Valentine's Day being spent in a cramped space with the hottest girl from Gryffindor? This could only be heaven.

Opening the door slowly, Edmund popped his head around the door first, instantly seeing Lou and instantly beaming. She looked incredible, and Edmund could hardly contain his testosterone-dripping expression.
"Good evening, Carter," he almost whispered, letting himself in and closing the door quickly behind him. She'd gone to a real effort dolling the place up - it was ideal. Secluded, cramped and away from any potential intruders. Edmund gave a nod to the house elf, taking a seat opposite Lou.

"You look awesome," he quietly replied, leaning over and kissing her cheek with heavy lips, practically staining her skin with his attraction. "Did you like my presents by the way? Hope they weren't too much." There it was; the return of his awkward modesty and naivety. Just why did Lou have this effect on him? He immediately straightened up, attempting to hide the softer side of Edmund Klint. "I sent it 'cos people send things like that, it's no big deal or nothing."

“It’s ready when you are, Miss Emily Louise,” squeaked the elf.

Lou flinched and waved a hand. “None of that. I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s Miss Emily Louise’s name, Miss Emi--”

“Shhh.”

The door opened.

The look on Edmund’s face, partly shadowed by the glow of the corridor behind him, told Emmylou what she needed to know. She’d picked the right locale for their little not-a-Valentine’s-dinner Valentine’s dinner. And she’d dressed appropriately, too. She stopped what she was doing and stood up in the cramped little closet, meeting Edmund halfway and throwing an arm around his neck, reeling him in like a prize.

He’d shut the door, and she backed him against it, picking up on their perpetual tango of power and ego and blind attraction. The rogue Ravenclaw and the tomboy lioness in holiday frock. “Good evening-- Klint,” She murmured, chinned turned upward, breath hot and confident, face a mere inch from his toned chest. She studied his eyes and then released him, backing into her seat just in time for Edmund to sit down opposite.

The kiss to her cheek was like a pleasant bee sting, warm and lasting. Its ghost was invisible, entirely unlike the haughty Hogwarts spirits. Suave and subtle, but there. Something to invite a blush, which Lou fought to the death. It didn’t rise in her cheeks, but a smile did.

Her smile became cheeky as his voice betrayed him. She looked awesome. He’d said it without batting a lash. And she reveled in it nonchalantly, enjoying the compliment for what it was: honest, not some loveydovey lamesauce laid on thickly by a boy desperate to lose his v-card on v-day. Edmund wasn’t like that.

But the smirk on Lou’s face was there for another reason. He was self-conscious, and it was showing. It wasn’t that he doubted his own words. He doubted his own carefree attitude when it came to gauging her reaction to his gift. It was adorable.

Tilting her head so that the poor lighting highlighted the gleam of pure gold, she let him decide for himself whether she liked his gift or not. The earrings went splendidly with her outfit, and while Lou was not so terribly into fashion that it ruled her life, she was still a girl, and she appreciated the effort that went into looking... effortless. Apparently so did Edmund. Her witchy, mysterious smile might have been hard to read for most, but she had faith in the Ravenclaw to pick up on her gratitude (before she showed it, that was.)

“You look brilliant yourself. And I hope... my thanks for the lovely gift will be more of a hands-on demonstration. You don’t mind, right?”

She glanced at the elf, who disappeared. In a flash, their silver-covered plates began to steam.

“I hope you’re a fan of chips,” she said in her most falsely modest voice, lifting the dome from her own plate to reveal the tantalizing scent of fried, spicy street food mated the standard pub fare. Chips, curry, the like. Courtesy of the Hogwarts elves.

The run-of-the-mill steaks and fancy desserts were for the sick-hearted. They could have those dishes at Hogwarts anytime they pleased. The abundance of feasts surely left than wanting for nothing, be it painstakingly traditional or festively exotic. No, Lou wanted something special: something one might pluck fresh and greasy from a cart vendor before a big Quidditch match. Something she'd eat with Quinn and Grace before a night of drinking and sneaking leftover, homemade roast from Quinn's mum's fridge in the middle of the night (it was even better the second time around). "Of course, if you're feeling like a lady, we can always order something else."

Edmund felt his heart almost burst out of his chest as her adorably wicked face laid inches from his chest, trying hard to poison those cliché butterflies what endlessly fluttered in his stomach whenever Lou was around. In pure honesty, all Edmund wanted to do there and then was throw everything off that table what she'd so longingly prepared and succumb to his teenage lust that he'd been riddled with ever since his first meeting with the Gryffindor in the best detention he'd ever experienced. Edmund was the kind of Ravenclaw that would normally swagger back to the courtyard, telling Hector and Leon how he'd successfully charmed the poor girl into his wicked grasp: but it wasn't like that with Lou. He liked her, enough to constitute a proposal to be his... girlfriend. Edmund's own admission made him shiver - he'd never been so voluntarily committal, so why so now? It was a question he didn't like to ponder too much.

"You look brilliant yourself," she replied as Edmund took a seat opposite. He smirked, cockily shrugging his shoulders and giving a sigh of amusement.
"Of course I do." His own words were dripping with that Ravenclaw arrogance and confidence that he was so well known for, but there was nothing offensive in his words; Edmund just liked to radiate an attitude that was amusingly sure of itself.

As the food was eventually revealed, Edmund let out a schoolboy gasp of relief. It was like he'd died and gone to heaven. This wasn't typical Valentine's food, but real, proper, greasy food. The food you had with mates and never with family (Helene Klint, the matriarch, would have gone nuts if she found out Edmund had an inclination towards such unhealthy foodstuffs), and it was just perfect for non-Valentine's day.
"I actually could marry you and that house elf this very second," he murmured, an honest smile appearing on his face. "This is beyond epic."

Edmund immediately shed his usual debonair, gentlemanly charm and took a chip, dipping it into a nearby pot of curry sauce and popping it into his mouth, savouring the familiar taste of spice and  potato  that  he'd  secretly  grown to love over the years in the company of the Quidditch team and his set of lads.
"You're officially the best date in the world, Carter."

Playful as she was, Lou felt the weight of the Big Night upon her. Their non-Valentine's Valentine date was their first official non-outing as a couple, and Emily couldn't remember the last time she'd had a proper boyfriend. Usually broom closet tangos involved less food and more snogging. And no one quite so dashing as Mr. Klint over there. She was pleased to have reeled him in, or the other way around. She'd have to send a thank-you card to Ramsey to show her gratitude.

But enough of that...

She smirked at his ego, nearly seeing the actual glow of it in the dim little dining room. "It's a good thing, too," she added, false weariness, or warning, in her voice. "If you weren't so delicious, I'd be tempted to go downstairs to that dance and snag three boys for midnight snacks. A girl has to eat."

And eat she did. The chips and curry were apparently not simply a guilty pleasure for the ladies. Edmund's eyes made Lou feel a surge of pride. She'd chosen wisely, and it would pay off. She reflexively brushed her chaser's fingers over the gold in her ear. "Slow down, stallion, I'm not going anywhere near an alter until I'm nine months up the duff," she announced. "At least."

It was an exaggeration, but truly, the word marriage terrified the girl. Having watched her mother grieve for her father for the past half year, how could one not find it daunting? And then there was the tiny fact that Lou was only barely legal. Marriage was supposed to be repulsive to a wild child on the verge of graduation.

But she really did dig Edmund.

Taking two chips and dipping them into the curry in agreement, she mock-toasted Edmund, soaking up the compliments. She popped the chips into her mouth and sat back with a sort of content smile, staring between the ceiling and the table and Edmund-- catching glimpses of him, stretching her feet 'round the crate to tangle slightly with his. "And if you're the second best date in the world-- no-- boyfriend," she corrected herself, liking the sound of the word on her tongue. "You'll have brought something to drink."

Flicking her wand at a dusty shelf of feather dusters, Lou turned on a seemingly-invisible Wireless. The radio crackled into an old favorite, something by a wayward rock band her mother claimed to hate.

"A love-hungry cannibal?" he asked after heartily swallowing a curry-drenched chip. "I never realised you followed Kitty Li's school of thought." Edmund raised an eyebrow in jest, his lips vaguely curling into a smile. It was true, he was purposefully winding his new girlfriend up. And yes, it was oh so satisfying. "I'm sure I'll be gone within a few weeks, only to be replaced by some better-looking, younger model." He leaned forward slightly, still smirking.
"I've got you sussed, Emily Louise Carter."

As she mentioned the possibility of a drink, Edmund paused his chewing, widening his eyes a little. He was such an idiot - turning up to a meal without anything to offer was just unacceptable. Usually the ever-attentive (and egotistical) gentleman, he shrugged awkwardly.
"Call me a rubbish Valentine's date, but I haven't got anything..." Edmund murmured but immediately grinned, an idea flooding into his head and evaporating any burgeoning embarrassment. "But this is a Non-Valentine's Day date, and that means, usual pleasantries are straight out of the window." He beamed at Lou, proud at his own conclusion and narrow escape, flashing clenched teeth at her comically.

The rock tune lightly filled the room and Edmund rolled his eyes, letting out a laugh.
"You Gryffindors call this music?" he ducked his head, still giggling softly. "Man, how wrong I was in thinking you were pretty awesome."

Emmy scrunched her nose, folding her arms and lifting her chin in a sort of ‘hmph’ reaction. “Are you making fun of my appetite or calling me a soulless dementor?” She challenged, not needing to utter the fashionable fifth year’s name a second time. The ice princess got more than enough mention around the castle, and then some. “Or do you just want me to wear shorter skirts?” She added, her face relaxing a bit as her voice became milder, more candid.

She reached across the table and took his hand, forcing his palm flat open on its back. She traced the lines, eyes fluttering shut, throat offering a scratchy hummm. “I predict... you’ll last twice as long as that.” Her eyes snapped open, brilliant blue against the dim of the cupboard. “You have a very long Life-- Er, Love Line.” She winked and offered his hand back to him.

Sussed? Sussed indeed.

Even a girl like Lou could use a V-Day surprise or two. (Granted his gifts had come, and they were lavish, one in each ear, fit for a socialite.) “Well, then...”

It would be up to her.


Mouthing the words and half-bobbing, half-shaking her head as she flounced to her feet, she refused to acknowledge his insult. She began to dance, alone, and quite chuffed. Edmund Klint could say what he pleased, this music was awesome.