February 14th, 1980
WHO: Ellsinore Branstone and Elliot Alderton
WHAT: Rewind of their first date!
WHERE: Fancy schmancy restaurant!



She needed a paper bag.

Being that her mind was on a loop of breathless, nonsensical, anxious statements, Elsie couldn't recall if she was a particularly punctual person or not, but she was as of this moment. In fact, she had been sitting at this table for fifteen minutes, studiously avoiding all the stares she imagined she must be getting, about halfway to twisting her serviette to shreds in her lap, on the verge of hyperventilation.

It was no use telling herself this was nothing to get worked up over, because that would be a very big lie, and it would likely just cause her to abuse the serviette faster. Even if a date was hardly the end of the world.

Only, it was, it really was, and she hadn't even been on one of them in three years. One lone encounter with a male specimen kept her from nunhood, and she would have preferred altogether that it had not occurred.

Though Elsie tried not to make that knowledge very public, Nora was one of the few remaining friends she had from school, and she knew about it, and that was very embarrassing, and it made Elsie a little sad to be without real friends for so long, so when Nora insisted she go on this blind date, she complied. She had pressed for details, but all Nora told her was that it was someone who understood her situation… whatever that meant.

And while she may be wishing heartily she hadn't agreed, perhaps this was good! Just the swift kick in the rear she needed to not get so lost in her head, particularly around this time of year. No, this was good, and it didn't matter that today was Valentine's Day and she needed a mystery date to celebrate it.

At least, it didn't matter all that much…

Telling herself sternly to smile, she released her death grip on the sad piece of cloth in her lap and fixed her clasped hands on the table top, beaming at a man walking past her. No, not him. That was all right, she could keep smiling! There was a periwinkle ribbon in her hair, the first time she'd worn something of the sort since her first year at St Mungo's, and it was to identify her to her date tonight. She resisted patting it to know it was in its place. And at last, here was someone slowing by her table! Elsie looked up to fix him with a smile, and blinked suddenly. No, that wasn't—it couldn't be—

Her smile dropped rather like a stone.

Elliot had waited outside of the restaurant, pacing along the pavement as he decided whether or not he should show his face. He’d always disliked Valentine’s Day and hadn’t ‘properly’ done anything for it in a few years. His wife had been pregnant with Liam during their first Valentine’s together and all Millie had desired were chocolates, the next year he’d forgotten and they’d had a horrid row, and by the next go around they’d practically hated each other, having been forced together only because of the baby and obligation.

And now she was dead.

He’d told Nora that it hadn’t even been a year since Millie had died from the virus that had struck the wizarding neighborhood, but his friend, one of few that made an effort to keep in contact with him from Hogwarts, had insisted that he’d been miserable for far longer than she’d been gone. It was true, of course, but that didn’t mean Elliot was okay with going out in public with another woman. He knew the women that Nora hung around with, and if it was that Spinnet whirlwind of a girl he was going to strangle his friend. The last thing he wanted was someone who was going to insist on moving things at a pace he sorely did not desire, and it was only when the clock reached a minute-to their agreed upon date time that he stepped into the restaurant.

Maybe she would be a troll and he wouldn’t feel guilty about ditching her. No, no he would feel guilty, and with his luck he’d end up spending far too much money on someone he had no need to see again and then he’d be broke until he got paid next. Work, he’d rather be at work, because at least there he knew he wasn’t wasting his time and---no way. Was Nora out of her mind? Branstone? Was that Branstone?

Elliot pulled back from the entrance of the restaurant before the other woman could see him. Bloody hell, what had Nora been thinking? Elsie Branstone was the perfect princess of Ravenclaw, woodland creatures frolicked to her, rainbows poured out of her eyes, it---Elliot face heated up and he walked halfway to the front door to leave before his conscious once again got the better of him. He couldn’t leave someone he knew. How was it a blind date if he knew the person, it---he was going to strangle Nora, regardless.

Deciding that Elsie couldn’t possibly eat as much as the troll he’d been imagining would be wearing the periwinkle ribbon in her hair (always with the ribbons), Elliot finally came out to the main floor of the restaurant and started toward her. He tried to keep his eyes ducked, but there was no way to avoid her look of surprise and alarm. Great, looked like he wasn’t the only one that remembered their rather brusque encounters in school.

“So I think Peakes has something loose in her head,” Elliot said, sticking his hands in his pockets. He stood for a moment, unsure if Elsie would want to continue with this Valentine’s Day disaster date. He pointed to the blue tie he wore, and then at her ribbon, which matched her eyes.

Did Nora hate her?

Surely this was not happening. Surely she had to have remembered Elsie's history with this boy—or man, he was a man now, she supposed—so he could not be the one wearing the correctly coloured tie. But even when she took the precaution of blinking, the blue remained when she opened her eyes again. She could recall with perfect clarity every snide comment, every grunt, every withering look Elliot Alderton had given her, and while Elsie had persevered through those Charms tutorials, she had not been sorry in the least to say good-bye to him five years earlier.

And five years was a very long time… Hadn't Elsie heard something about him being married? Yes, she was certain she had, she even remembered mention of a child, but… obviously she was missing something. Had there been a divorce? No, that wasn't it. Something tugged at her memory, until she recalled hearing along the grapevine of old schoolmates that his wife had died in the past year—of that mysterious illness, if she wasn't mistaken.

So, Elsie was sitting in front of a recently widowed father who disliked her rather intensely during their school days. On Valentine's Day. The further this evening progressed, the more she was convinced it was really one of the worst days of the year. And at this moment, she was very willing to label it as the worst.

But he wasn't sitting yet. He still hovered with his hands in his pockets, a sort of sheepish look about him. Was that his way of saying the evening was over, since they knew each other, and "blind" was sort of the point of these things? Was he waiting for her to invite him to sit down? To dismiss him? Was she going to?

No, she thought. No, she was not. Because she had actually worn a pretty new outfit she couldn't afford, she'd done something with her hair, and she had tried. If Elliot had agreed to come tonight, he should have been prepared for the worst, because that's what blind dates were, as had just been proven, and she was willing to stick it out. Perhaps it could be her making him uncomfortable for a change.

Except he was still a widower and she was not a very vindictive person, so it was possible she would regret such a decision very soon.

Elsie instead chose to not say anything at all and let him make his own decisions. So, naturally, she reached blindly for the menu by her plate and opened it so it nearly covered her face as he did so. "She met with a nundu some years back," she murmured, staring blankly at the nonsensical small print before her to avoid eye contact. "I fear she's never been the same since."

Wonderful, Elsie was so nervous she couldn't even read English anymore.

“Right.”

Elliot stood for a few more beats, waiting for Elsie to tell him to move on and get out of here. That’s what she should have done, because there was no way that he was going to be able to tolerate a whole dinner of her twittering and optimism. It didn’t matter that she did look rather nice, even prettier than he’d remembered her being. Elliot just---knew that this wasn’t going to happen. But, she had picked up a menu and began reading off the choices for the night. Elliot could remain standing like a fool, he could leave and let her fend for herself, or he could sit and endure the torture he recalled not-so-fondly from Hogwarts.

Grunting, he pulled out the chair and sat down; he’d come all this way and gotten dressed, he may as well eat.

Elliot’s lips twisted in annoyance as he picked up the menu, trying to decipher the different appetizers, first courses, main courses, desserts. They had picked the fanciest of fancy restaurants and on Valentine’s Day, so there was no doubt that the main chef was pulling out all the specialities. It was decorated as if Madam Puddifoot had taken a pepper-up potion and had her way with the place. The tremendous amount of pink and hearts did not give Elliot anything of an appetite, and his brows furrowed even further when he noticed that there weren’t any prices on the menu. That was never a good thing. He was going to be broke and annoyed beyond belief by the end of the night.

“I can’t read this thing,” he admitted with defeat. If there was one thing about Elliot’s relationship with Elsie, he’d always been brutally honest. “Just---pick what you want.”

When she was able to take her attention off the man she was pretending to ignore who had just taken the seat in front of her, Elsie saw the menu made little sense to her extraordinarily clever brain because she was holding the thing upside down.

Righting it hurriedly, she again took advantage of the sanctuary its large pages offered to hide her flaming cheeks. It wasn't until he'd sat down that she realised, having lost most of her bluster already, she actually wanted him to go and thus save them both from the inevitable awkwardness of the night. If she didn't summon up the requisite cheerful persona that was her best weapon against him, they might very well spend the whole night in a silence that ranged from timid and awkward to surly.

It wasn't a wholly unappealing idea.

But she took in his appearance and softened, seeing that he too had actually tried. Perhaps he also chose to take tonight as a chance to even dream of beginning again… or most likely he didn't, but whatever he'd expected from the night, it certainly hadn't been her. That was all right. It wouldn't be much of a hardship to attempt to be pleasant, if not upbeat. Despite his recent troubles, Elliot looked very well, and she could feel the slightest bit of an old, very ill-thought out school crush surfacing.

She was really going to kill her friend after this night.

Entirely too distracted to focus on the menu, she told the waiter, "The specials are fine!" But they were all specials today. "The chef's specials!" What did she think a special was? "Whichever you," Elsie tried, turning on her sunniest beam for him, "personally recommend will be wonderful!"

Exhaling as the barely-appeased waiter left, she thought hard for a safe topic of conversation. "You—I heard you work in the Ministry, now," she prompted with a small smile.

The specials. The chef’s specials. Whichever you thought was special! The whole bloody world was special in Elsie Branstone’s eyes. He’d put his menu down when the waiter had come by and he hadn’t bothered to look at the poor bloke while Elsie made her ridiculous order. How could she be so happy all the time? Why did she have to make looking happy so nice with that lovely smile of hers? Elliot scowled at his thoughts and snatched up a piece of bread from the center of the table, only to tear it apart but not actually eat it. If he was going to spend an arm and ten galleons he couldn’t stuff himself on the dinner rolls.

“International Magical Trading Standards Body,” he said with a nod. “It’s boring.” He was good at it, and he wanted to become the head of his department, but it was rather boring. The day was only made tolerable because of the time he was able to bother Archie at his office. Elliot needed a place where he didn’t have to think very much and where the monotony wouldn’t drive him mad; the past couple of years of his life had been a whirlwind, and he didn’t need his job to add any more stress than it already did.

After successfully demolishing the roll into crumbs on his plate, he let out a breath, “How’s Mungo’s?”

Because of course he knew and remembered that she got into the healer program their seventh year. He’d acted very unimpressed with the fact, of course, and managed to hide his jealousy at her brilliance and ability to pursue such a career.

She blanched a little at the mention of the hospital, because she hadn't expected it. Of course, Elliot wouldn't know anything about the past three years of her life, there would be no reason for him to. And that harrowing story was not something she would burden him with on a blind date that wasn't his choosing, so she dropped her gaze and worried her lip when she saw his roll very much resembling her serviette from earlier.

Ignoring the dull flush still creeping up her neck, she said, "I—left there, actually," quite nonchalantly, though she kept her eyes on her plate. "I'm at Flourish and Blotts now." She never particularly felt the sting of shame or embarrassment of the downward spiral of her career. Elsie had been good, she'd even been brilliant, in her chosen field, but going back there was an impossibility. Perhaps being a shopwitch in a bookstore wasn't the most stimulating of jobs for her busy brain, but it was enough for now. Or at least, she had always thought so until this moment. For a reason she didn't quite understand, or perhaps she did, Elliot Alderton's inevitably churlish opinion of what she did was suddenly very important to Elsie.

"Surely that must be more boring than your Magical Standards?" she offered, resting her chin on one fist.

“I doubt it,” Elliot said honestly, though it felt like she needed to know that. All he could recall from school were the excruciating charms lessons he had to sit through with Elsie, those feelings of complete annoyance were surprisingly not present. Elliot supposed that he hadn’t been very happy with anyone during his Hogwarts career and that maybe now that he was...now that he’d managed to move past a lot of things, Elsie didn’t seem so damn irritating. It was now quite easy to look at her as a smart, pretty face without all the baggage he’d had pulling him down.

There was a little chit chat and he’d pulled out a picture of Liam and she’d cooed. Eliza was brought up and Elliot growled about her fool of a boyfriend. He wasn’t particularly sure he trusted this ‘Diggle’ character, and began to re-enact how completely awkward the boy had been when he’d visited their father’s store this past winter. Elliot’s hands were up and about his head, giving a demonstration of how Diggle completely knocked over a rack of freshly fixed Comet broomsticks, when the waiter returned what was supposedly their appetizer.

Elliot’s hands remained up in the air as he looked down at the...the...”Is that fish?”

His face contorted into a strange mixture of amusement and disgust and Elliot blinked owlishly at Elsie. “Are you really going to eat that?”

Elsie hadn't known Elliot could be funny, but she'd really been in quiet stitches once the desperate awkwardness had dissipated and they'd moved into more personal territory. She'd even felt a bit put out once the waiter had interrupted and approached with the first course, which left her staring at her now-laden plate.

The first order of business would be addressing what that was. It… was fish. Or at least, it had been at one point, as its face was perfectly preserved, complete with a bugging out eye and gaping mouth. But its… artfully? slashed sides were brimming with something she really, truly hoped was sauce, and something pearly spilled out from its poor fishy underbelly. Its expression seemed so horrifically morose, she could almost imagine seeing it sigh in resignation to its culinary fate.

Though slightly nauseated, she clapped her hand to her mouth as she began to giggle almost helplessly. "I'm sorry," Elsie gasped, pressing her hand harder to her mouth in an effort to staunch the flow of laughter, lest she appear manic. "It's just—this evening hasn't been—anything like I imagined it would be." Biting her lip, but still smiling, she shook her head. "If this is the best recommended dish, I shudder to think of what sending it back would achieve." Not to mention they'd likely still be charged for them. An establishment that offered a special limited menu for holidays and couldn't bother to put ice cream on the menu seemed like the sort of place that would even charge for the dinner rolls, if they weren't escorted from the premises first.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. This was bad, this was really bad. Elliot had come to terms with how much of a grouch he’d been during school in these recent years, mostly in thanks to his sister. Eliza had managed to grow out of her shell and enjoy her time at Hogwarts and it had made Elliot reflect on how he could have turned himself around faster and may have found himself in a different place. Maybe he wouldn’t have had a one-night stand with the girl in the next cubicle, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten her pregnant and then had to marry her because her parents insisted.

Maybe he could’ve had a real chance with the pretty girl across the table if he’d put some effort into things. Thinking himself to be a much better, albeit still a bit grumpy, person, Elliot pulled the napkin off of his lap (it had magically unfolded itself and laid upon his thighs) and tossed it onto the plate in front of him. That fish was not going to be touched by either of them.

“Fortescue’s is still open for another half an hour,” he said, standing, “Mint chocolate chip, yeah?” Elliot allowed himself a smirk, feeling his ears get hot; of course he’d managed to remember her favorite ice cream, he’d scowled at how delighted she always was when she got to have it for dessert. He patted down his pockets and let out an exaggerated groan, “And I must’ve dropped my wallet out on the pavement!”

Elliot sent a helpless glance toward the waiter, who gestured for him to go retrieve it, “I suppose I’ll have to go get it...”

Had the last fifteen seconds truly happened? Had he suggested what she thought he was suggesting? Was he doing what she thought he—Elsie was certain she was staring at him in undisguised, jaw-dropping stupefaction, until she came to her senses and clamped her mouth shut. But there was a small smile on her face that grew and grew as she tried unsuccessfully to hide her fifteenth blush of the night. It wasn't simply that he'd remembered some small detail of her that she wasn't even aware he'd known (although that was a large part). The only thing she'd believed Elliot capable of was the last part, where he claimed to have conveniently "dropped" his wallet outside and would just be half a moment to collect it, but with one small edit: she wouldn't have been in on the joke, she would have been the joke.

Now, he'd just made her a partner in crime and was supplying her with her opening. Elsie couldn't say she imagined the night taking a turn for the fraudulent, but it appealed strongly to her sense of the ridiculous and appreciation for the art form of mint chocolate-chip ice cream.

"Darling!" she let out with a laugh, standing as well. "You're not even wearing your glasses, how can you expect to find it by yourself?" Elsie stepped forward to tuck her arm around his, stroking it soothingly. Looking back over her shoulder at anyone who might be listening, she said, "Sometimes I think he'd forget his head if I wasn't there to remind him it was attached," with a smile that plainly read Isn't he just adorable?.

Then they were walking, and making very good progress. Keeping up a mindless, rather cooing chatter, Elsie could see the double doors come within a handful of strides, and didn't even see the need for picking up the pace. Until she heard the authoritatively hesitant, "Madame?" ring out from behind them.

"Run!" Elsie whispered, starting to laugh as she tugged his arm rather needlessly. "Go, go!"

They were bailing on the bill. Not that they’d actually eaten anything other than a bread roll and some water, and with the crowd they were sure to be able to slip that ridiculous fish of a dish onto someone else’s table without the patron being any the wiser, but still. They’d bailed and were actually running down the pavement to put as much distance between them and the overpriced and overcrowded restaurant. Elsie’s grip on his arm did not go unnoticed and she tugged him along for a bit, but when Elliot spotted a good place to turn and hide he took hold of her hand and pulled her into the nook of an alleyway. It was really more like the small space between two building that was actually necessary to call them separate places, and Elliot pressed his back hard against the wall to give Elsie as much room as possible.

“I don’t really think we had to run,” he teased, keeping an ear out for the maitre’d that had called after them. His heart was racing, not only from the sprint but from the idea that they may, just may, have actually gotten in trouble for not paying for the bread and water. Elliot was sure he hadn’t done something that silly in a very, very long time. Play time with Liam on the carpet did not count, this was actually---taking a chance and a risk and Elliot had forgotten how extremely exciting that could be.

His hand hadn’t left hers and Elliot made to let her fingers go, but then he took a chance, “I could apparate us to Diagon,” he offered, his shoulders going up, “Do you trust me?”

The laughter or the running alone would have been bad enough, but the combination thereof had her collapsing next to Elliot against the brick, heaving her shoulders. Elsie pressed a hand to her side and found herself unable to wipe the grin from her face, though she was only occasionally racked by a giggle after a few moments had passed.

She elbowed him slightly for the teasing, but couldn't deny her exhilaration. Was what they had done childish and probably quite stupid? Of course. But she was enjoying herself so much, she didn't care. In fact, the whole night had had a very surreal feeling to it, so much so that Elsie could not say she had not imagined the entire thing. But that was all right—this was a quality many more of her evenings might benefit from.

Not once, ever, had she imagined this man was capable of this sort of… she didn't want to say "foolishness," but that's what she meant, only not in a bad way at all. Perhaps it didn't reflect well on her, but she was almost positive she'd have done anything or gone anywhere if only to see what other mysteries Elliot Alderton concealed of himself. So when he asked her his question, she was only a little surprised to learn she already had her answer. "Yes," Elsie said, turning her head to better look at him. She still had his hand within hers, and gave it the slightest squeeze. "I trust you."

His heart thudded at her words. Elliot hadn’t meant for his own to carry such meaning, but once again his feelings towards Elsie Branstone were hiding themselves behind a mask of apathy. He hadn’t truly trusted anyone in a long time and in his life he was sure that Eliza was the only person he dared to feel vulnerable with. Anyone else had managed to break his heart, so hearing that Elsie trusted him, even if it was just a trust to not splinch her on their trip to Diagon Alley, gave him the urge to reciprocate the feeling.

It was strange to think about how much he had changed since Hogwarts, and how he hadn’t realized he had until tonight. What had Nora seen in him that would have made her think he was good for Elsie? What had she seen in Elsie that was supposed to be so good for him? He tried to remember the conversation he’d had with Nora that had prompted the idea of a blind date; they’d sat in the ministry cafeteria for lunch and like idle chatter tends to do, it slipped into a negative place that Elliot wanted to avoid. A jaded comment towards the idiocy of Valentine’s Day had cause Nora to give him a look of clarified understanding.

‘You haven’t been loved in a while, have you?’ she had mused, and her words struck Elliot sharply. He knew he’d been miserable in his relationship with Millie, but the idea that he hadn’t had someone care for him in that way for a very long time gutted him in that moment. Did Nora think that Elsie would be someone who could fill that void? Elliot didn’t think his luck could manage a turnaround of that great of proportion, but he shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

“Here we go.”

She held her breath and closed her eyes until they arrived. When she opened her eyes, there was a smile of quiet contentment on her face as she took in the familiar sight. Though she saw them every day, the garish pink, white, and heart-strewn store-fronts still made Elsie laugh into night air so cold that puffy clouds issued from her lips.

Thirty minutes ago, she was ready to write off the night, and ready to write off the idea of any sort of relationship again. Three years had taught her being alone was her only option, since there was something broken or fundamentally missing within her. She smiled and laughed and daydreamed still, though all those things had taken time to do again, but there was an emptiness to Elsie. An inability to master something that came so easily to other people, and she was growing steadily resigned to that fate.

But the unexpectedness of tonight, because it had been in every single way, and the true enjoyment she had to admit to having, were beginning to change her mind. No, she thought while surveying the streamers and heart-shaped lanterns adorning the front and interior of Fortescue's, all it had taken was a little delinquency to wake her up, to show Elsie what she should have known all along.

"Come on!" she cheered, towing Elliot by the hand before shortly breaking into another run. "I know exactly what were getting, and I am not half so kind as to ask for your trust!"

She wasn't broken or lacking, not at all.