Hogsmeade brought back plenty of pleasant memories for Marissa. She'd been popular enough in school, being on the Quidditch team -- and coming back around here just served to remind her that no matter how terrible everything 'out there' seemed, there would always be rosy-cheeked children willing to spill their enthusiasm (and butterbeer) all over anyone who wanted to listen to them. She'd been caught up in listening to a group of Gryffindor girls squeal about Charlie Spinnet for apparently two or three firewhiskys by now -- enough drink that she didn't hesitate in getting up from her chair when she spotted a lovely looking curly-haired gent.
She dropped easily down into the chair next to him, taking care not to let her prosthetic hand clunk down too hard on the counter, and flashed him a small, genuine smile.
"I know I'd remember if you were in my year."
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