Who: Lavender Brown, Charlie Weasley
Where: The Grotto
When: 11 April 2002, evening
Lavender was in a very good mood. It had been a great week overall (karmic hangover and getting told off for no reason by an irrational Alicia aside). She felt like dancing. Luckily, her second profession lent itself to wearing very tiny dresses of her own design and shaking her arse behind the bar as she made patrons their drinks.
Plus her tips always seem to go up along with the amount of smiling and dancing she did, so that was an extra plus.
She grinned as a new but unmistakeable face arrived in her domain. Leaning on her elbows in front of Charlie, she drawled, “Well, well, if it isn’t Mister I’m A Good Boy Really himself.”
Charlie held his hands up in surrender, but he smirked all the same. He wouldn’t have guessed who she was at first, but her remark tipped him off. “It’s entirely possible I may have exaggerated my virtues just a tad.” Glancing behind her, he scanned the bar to see what was on offer, but his gaze finally settled on Lavender and her tiny dress. “You won’t hold it against me, will you?”
“Probably not,” Lav said with a smirk. “Especially as you’re just proving me right.”
But, frankly, after her recent dating experiences she was beginning to think that good boys were overrated.
“What can I get you?”
“You can get me a pint of the Old Speckled Dragon,” he decided, gesturing at the tap. “Unless it’s terrible, in which case I’ll take a firewhiskey.” Charlie grinned. He was fairly certain that he’d tried the beer on his last trip to Helga’s Hill, but that was many, many pints ago.
“So this is the nightlife of Helga’s Hill, is it?” It was a step up from what he had lived with in Romania for the last few years. “I bet a pretty witch like you gets your share of drunken proposals. Or do you just save that for the Badger?”
“The proposals I get in here are generally a lot more indecent than the one I got in the Badger,” Lavender laughed. “Especially considering I’m fairly sure that Dean has never had a single ungentlemanly thought about me.” She pouted as she pulled on the tap and served his beer. “Which is a bit offensive, actually.”
Charlie made a disapproving noise, shaking his head. “That just doesn’t sound right. He must have something wrong with his sight.” He smiled. “Or maybe a screw loose somewhere.” He pulled his glass closer as she put it in front of him.
“So I bet you know everything that goes on around here. Anything or anyone I should watch out for? Apart from you, of course.”
“Hmmm,” Lavender murmured, being a bit more blatant with the once over she gave him than was probably professional (but, then, how professional did you really need to be when you worked in a bar, right?). “The girl who keeps bar here on the weekends, Romilda, has a tendency towards slipping handsome men love potions. I’m sure she’ll be after you like a shot.”
Laughing, Charlie fished out a selection of coins from his pocket and sorted through them to find the right change for his drink. “Sounds like I’m going to have to keep my wits about me with you girls in this place.” He passed Lavender the money. “You could be dangerous to my health.”
“No little old me,” Lav said, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she counted the coins and put them in the till. “I’m not dangerous in the slightest.”
Unless you counted the whole werewolf thing.
Charlie smirked. He believed that about as much as she believed that he was a good boy. He leant forward a little, one elbow resting on the bar. “Pity, I like a bit of danger.” He stepped back then, picking up his drink. Charlie lifted his glass in a half salute. “Cheers. I guess I’ll see little old you around.”
“Yeah,” Lavender said, smirking right back. “I guess you will.”