Ari stepped out of the shop, clutching two warm preztels wrapped in napkins. It was much, much too cold for her liking. Even with her hood pulled up over her hat covered head, she felt freezing. The only warmth came from the preztels she was holding and those seemed to be losing some of their warmth as well.

The weather was dispicable and Ari wondered why she was walking anyway. Sleet came in gushes as she managed to nibble a bit as she walked. Ari hated mid-winter in England and she firmly wished she was back in Greece, playing on the beaches with her family. But her job at the Ministry was important and so she stayed, even though her parents and siblings were begging her.

As she walked she kept her head down, avoiding the stinging cold from her eyes. But having her head down prevented her from seeing people well. And so Ari ran straight into someone who had just apparated into the Aley.

"Sorry." She said quickly, looking up. "It's too cold to keep my head up so I didn't pay attention." She offered quietly, her head once again down.

"Curses and damnation!"

Artemius stood straight up, whipping his hands about him to pull closed the coat he'd picked up at Zimmerman's a couple winters ago, not quite as heavily laden with Charms as it had been, once upon a time. He feverishly fought with his suddenly attacked with cold fingers to button it up, leaning forward to begin his return to the Leaky Cauldron and the warmth of his home. The quick stop at a Wizarding friendly grocery (with much kinder prices than in Diagon Alley, if a good broom ride away) had been carefully planned -- Floo from work, then a quick Apparition to Diagon Alley, then straight into the Leaky Cauldron. Mind, weather had been much nicer at the shop, and he'd not been wise enough to check for London before he'd left. He'd hardly taken a step forward when he came in contact with another body.

Startled, he threw out his hands, barely catching the shoulders of a witch, huddled in her own robes to hide from the cold.

"Sorry," she said quickly, looking up.

Big brown eyes looked into his -- she was tall, though not quite eye level with his 6'2" -- and dark hair surrounded a face not devoured with make up. It was a simple beauty.

"It's too cold to keep my head up so I didn't pay attention," she added meekly, once more hiding her face.

"I wasn't quite paying attention myself, sorry," he replied, manners his first reaction. And then the cold reminded him of its presence, gifting him with very cold, wet sleet slipping underneath his collar. He had not expected precipitation, and probably looked a fool wearing a hoodless, albeit warm, wool Muggle coat. Not quite warm enough, though, as he once more looked down, to button it up with trembling fingers. "I was kind of distracted by the cold weather. Stupid me didn't check for the forecast before leaving shelter." Otherwise, he would have pulled the hood from his lighter jacket beneath the coat out -- and reinforced it with some water resistance. Now, it seemed a bit moot, as the wet and cold was already in. He could only just hold himself tighter and hope it didn't get worse. His teeth started to chatter. "I'm a dolt, I know." He glanced about, trying to get his bearings. They were between Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron, but he looked back down at the witch.

"Anyway, I'm terribly sorry for prattling -- are you okay?" If his mother were there, she'd give him a very stern eye. In fact, he thought he could feel the icy glare of his deceased father... but that could also just be the weather. He looked about for anything fallen that he could help her with. He'd hate to have ruined someone's something by being a useless git. He was already cold -- he earned that. They shouldn't have to be bothered on account of his foolishness.

Arista looked up at the man as he prattled on about checking the weather before he left. "You must have flooed this morning then." She offered, trying to be somewhat helpful. "It's been like this all day." Arista hated slush and ice more than almost anything so the concept of not checking the weather in this month in England was not a normal thing for her to do. Of course, Arista had checked. It was the tall man who seemed like some type of professional man - not a shopkeeper or a roamer - and someone who seemed generally caught up in his own world, who hadn't.

"I'm fine." She answered carefully, looking down to make sure he hadn't stepped on her feet or anything. "However, my warm pretzel might need a funeral." She looked back up with her big brown eyes, a small smile hidden in them. Arista picked up the soggy, now frigid pretzel and shook her head. "Yep, there's no point in trying to resuscitate it." Her odd humor coming out at another odd time.

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" She glanced around before continuing. "Or a drink since the Leaky Cauldron is closer. That is, if you aren't in a huge hurry." Arista offered a smile, pulling her cap down further over her ears.

"I'm Ari Seaborne by the way." She offered a hand for him to shake as she waited for a reply.

"You must have flooed this morning then," she said. "It's been like this all day."

"Yeah... Bit stupid of me, really." He grinned sheepishly. "I should suspect it, you'd think. But I'm not quite used to London yet."

"I'm fine," she answered his question. "However, my warm pretzel might need a funeral."

Artemius grimaced as she retrieved a soggy, sleety pretzel. "Oh bollucks -- I'm sorry. I can replace that, if you like," he offered. Actually, a pretzel sounded rather good right now...

She gave him a small smile and he rubbed his neck bashfully, looking furtively at the sky, the cold soaking his hair by now.

"Yep, there's no point in trying to resuscitate it."

"Seriously, though. I-I can -- "

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?"

Her interruption was welcomed. He grinned. "That sounds nice, actually."

She glanced around before continuing. "Or a drink since the Leaky Cauldron is closer. That is, if you aren't in a huge hurry."

He smirked. "Nah, I'm not to busy.

She further hid behind her hood from the weather. "I'm Ari Seaborne by the way." She offered a hand for him to shake as she waited for a reply.

Artemius took it. "Artemius Baxby." And then took a step towards the Leaky Cauldron. "But we best be quick afore we get acute hypothermia or something." He grinned as he motioned for her to follow.

"You aren't used to London?" Arista asked, repeating what he had said. "I thought everyone was used to London. And you don't look 17, no offense, so I'm guessing that you didn't come straight from Hogwarts. So why the interest in the lovely city where the pigeons seem to love to attack humans without any bread?"

It was much too detailed of a question to be asking someone she had just met but she was curious. No accent gave him away so she was extremely curious as to where he was from. Although people said there was a general Londoner accent, the man's speech was only slightly different than her own.

He stuttered, trying to apologize for the pretzel, which made Arista smile. "I know, I just enjoy the melodrama in pastries." It was an odd statement but one, that if the person were to know Arista's character, would think it perfectly normal. She was a Ravenclaw alum which in itself led her to odd thoughts and conclusions.

He shook her hand, offering up his own name as Artemius Baxby. An interesting combination of names to say the least. He didn't let go of her hand as they walked quickly into the Leaky Cauldron. Once inside she lowered her hood and took off her hat. "Acute hypothermia now avoided, however, the hat hair, I think was inevitable." Arista shrugged and grinned, walking over to an empty table.

She sat down and took off her coat, draping it beside her, letting it lean against another chair as it began to drip. "So what do you do for a living Artemius?"

"You aren't used to London?" she echoed. "I thought everyone was used to London. And you don't look 17, no offense, so I'm guessing that you didn't come straight from Hogwarts. So why the interest in the lovely city where the pigeons seem to love to attack humans without any bread?"

Artemius laughed at the question. It was true that the rats with wings here were a bit more threatening than was usually the norm. "Work, actually. Originally, me mum was a Londoner, and although he was Irish, he spent a good amount of his professional life working out of there. As for me, I'm typically from Wales." He grinned. "We're a little forgotten, but we get our own royalty," he joked, a common jest about the title of Prince of Wales -- the title of the uncrowned heir apparent. It was always a fun story, particularly for foreigners, who weren't aware of the title's origin.

"I just enjoy the melodrama in pastries." It caught him off guard; and yet, it seemed a perfectly natural observation. He smirked. That sounded like something his house mate Birdie might have said -- the Ravenclaws were all a strange lot.

"We all have our quirks," he replied. "As for myself, I'm horridly, deathly afraid of frogs, if that's any consolation." He chuckled. It wasn't something he very commonly expressed to others, but the random thought seemed to require a suitably eccentric response.

They made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, and ducked into the warm and dry bar, even if it did smell of booze and pea soup.

"Ah, here we are..." Artemius gratefully set to undo his coat -- he'd need to shake the wet and cold out of it, as well as his jacket.

Arista, meanwhile, took off her hat. "Acute hypothermia now avoided; however, the hat hair, I think was inevitable." Artemius grinned as she shrugged and grinned, walking over to an empty table. He took her absence to shake the sleet out of his own hair, making it a horrid mess, but much less miserable. He finally got the last button done and peeled it from himself, copying Arista's motion and hanging it on the opposite side -- the dark wool a good seven shades darker, and wetter than it really ought to be -- and loosened the fleece jacket he'd worn underneath it to unsettle the wet spots.

As he sat down, she looked at him curiously. "So what do you do for a living Artemius?"

"I am..." Ah, bugger it. It was still cold. He took off the jacket too, leaving him with the button up shirt (tee underneath) he wore indoors. "Sorry. I am a security guard, actually." He put the jacket on the back of his own chair, as the wet was not as severe. "For the Ministry of Magic." He gave a quick sigh at finally being dry and gave her a smile. "What about you?"

"Typically from Wales. Nice turn of phrase there." He mentioned something about having the royalty and Arista smiled, laughing softly. "Yeah, you guys were lucky like that. Me, I got stuck with good ol' wet land. Mum's Scottish, Dad's Greek." She shrugged, her smile still on her face. She was enjoying herself even if she was freezing and warm food was just half an hour away if she cooked quickly.

"I would have never taken you for a scared-of-frogs person. I think you would be scared of something more menacing. Not hippogriffs because they're too Ravenclaw so I think I would go with a moose. Yes, I think you would be afraid of a moose." Arista had only seen a moose once or twice in her twenty six years but it didn't stop her from thinking he would be afraid of a moose. Anyway, the only way to see a moose in England was to be up in Scotland (and even then she wasn't sure there were any) or in America. And he didn't seem like the kind of person to have visited America. But again, she was making several assumptions.

Artemius started to say what he did for a living but then he stopped. Arista looked curiously at him as he removed another layer of clothing. Inwardly Arista smiled, thinking something dryly that she probably shouldn't have thought, but she did anyway.

"Ah, that's why you looked very vaguely familiar. I work on the first floor. Used to be speechwriter for the Minister. Now, well, now my job's in limbo." The waitress went around and she ordered a cup of hot Irish hot cocoa. The hot chocolate would warm her up and the alcohol would help her unwind after a long day at work. She smiled up at him as she took a sip.

"So...we've talked about moose, frogs, our jobs and melodrama. I believe it's your turn to pick the conversation topic."

"Typically from Wales. Nice turn of phrase there."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"I would have never taken you for a scared-of-frogs person."

"My parents didn't, either. My father was a little over zealous once -- he traveled a lot, and brought home this massive, indigenous mask from South America or Asia or summat, and it scared the bejesus out of me -- it was animated, you see. They took me to the aquarium the next day to talk some sense into me, and I decided that reptiles and amphibians in general were okay, but when they gave me a frog, it jumped at me, adding to my nervousness and making it a full-blown paranoia." He smirked sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. "It's a deep psychosis, I think. I've tried getting out of it, but it just doesn't work. If things in general jump at me, or someone throws something at me without my knowing, I panic. I even batter around my chocolate frogs before I eat them, and usually avoid them, if I can." He chuckled. "My mother says I'm abusive to my chocolates, which has since become a running joke over the years."

Ah... Because, I think you would be scared of something more menacing. Not hippogriffs -- they're too Ravenclaw. So, I think I would go with... a moose. Yes, I think you would be afraid of a moose."

Artemius laughed. "You know, I've never met a moose, in actuality. Deer, yeah, but not a moose. I've spent a fair bit of time in the forest, so I do have a bit of a healthy respect for big animals, sure, so..." He pondered an encounter with a moose. Compared to certain other, large hairy beasts that he had encountered in the past, it would be not as scary, but still... "Yeah, I guess I might be frightened a good bit if I saw a moose." He grinned. These sorts of random conversations were what he'd enjoyed most in school at Hogwarts, and when talking with his mother's patients. The stories some people had to tell -- or the kind of randomness they could bring to the table -- was always rather fascinating.

"Ah, that's why you looked very vaguely familiar. I work on the first floor."

"Ah. Yeah, I'm often seen standing blankly at a door if you see a mindless drone that looks every so vaguely like me there one day, it means you caught me in the middle of the shift." He laughed. "Of course, it could be we went to school together -- I just graduated from Hogwarts -- " 24-18=14-8=6 " -- six years ago. Ravenclaw, actually." She had said Ravenclaw earlier. "If you were a Ravenclaw, too, you might remember me." He grinned. "But, more recently, yeah. I think I was stuck doing wand check on... Tuesday, I think." He smirked. "As it is, most of work is the same thing. The only thing that changes is the scenery, and even that is very similar in the Ministry." He laughed.

" Used to be speechwriter for the Minister. Now, well, now my job's in limbo."

A waitress came by. "Can I get something for you, too?"

"An Irish cocoa for me, please," Arista ordered.

Artemius grinned. "Actually, I'll have the same." He smiled at his guest. A bit of cocoa sounds like it would hit the spot. In all honesty, I haven't had some Irish cocoa in a while. But, ah..." He gave a lopsided frown. "You say you're job's in limbo?"

"So...we've talked about moose, frogs, our jobs and melodrama. I believe it's your turn to pick the conversation topic."

"Oh, okay..." Artemius grinned. He quite liked this witch. She was a bit eccentric, but that was quite alright with him. He pondered for a moment, then... "Favourite spell." He smirked. "What is your favourite spell? Or enchanted object." It was random, but he was curious to her response.

He said thanks for the compliment and grinned, Arista smiled herself because his own smile seemed to brighten her up. It was a calming smile and one that seemed to get who she was. It was weird how she often could tell things about people through their smile, but she could. For example, she was able to tell that Artemius was a trustworthy man and she definitely wouldn't mind spending more time with him. She didn't get to spend time with honest and decent men often anyway. She hadn't dated in forever.

"Well now I know I need to get you for April Fool's." Arista teased. "Although that might be a bit mean. I hate heights so I suppose it's all to their own."

Arista sounded shocked. "You haven't met a moose? Of course, I suppose they aren't native to here, but you've never been to a zoo or something? Honestly if it wasn't absolutely freezing I would remedy that right now." She grinned as he admitted he would be a bit scared. "They always seemed majestic to me. Maybe a bit scary yes, but also very majestic."

"I graduated nine years ago, also from Ravenclaw." Suddenly she was blushing, hiding her face. "You're that Artemius." She kept her head ducked until he asked a question about her job and she sighed.

"The new Minister of Magic apparently writes his own speeches. And he's also apparently too kind to fire me. So I don't know exactly what my job title is right now."

"Favorite spell?" Arista repeated, intrigued. "Hmm... I would have to say the one that brews my morning coffee. Either that or the firebell charm - I always loved blue flames anyway. As for enchanged objects - hmm... I am a huge fan of quick quills." She knew there would be some sort of grimace coming - there always was. "Not a Quick Quotes Quill but just a quick quill that does the writing for me. I can talk quite a bit faster than I can write, unless I'm using a pen." She took a sip of the spiked hot cocoa and smiled. "Yourself?"

"Well now I know I need to get you for April Fool's." Arista teased.

Artemius smirked. "Just be sure I don't get you first." He pulled a bag of O'Malley's Best Itching Powder and placed it on the table before him. "I am a bit of a prankster myself. Typically I save it for those who earn my, ah... displeasure, but I always have it on my person." He replaced it with a devilish grin.

Arista sounded shocked. "You haven't met a moose? Of course, I suppose they aren't native to here, but you've never been to a zoo or something? Honestly if it wasn't absolutely freezing I would remedy that right now."

"Eh. A zoo isn't the same thing as meeting a moose." Mind, by 'meeting', Artemius had in mind face-to-face encounters with beasties that could kill you in a certain proximity. Invading that proximity was 'meeting' them. Staying out of it, as in skirting an animal in the woods or observing from behind safe bars at a zoo, was 'seeing' something, not meeting them.

"They always seemed majestic to me. Maybe a bit scary yes, but also very majestic."

He smirked. Big beasties indeed were often very majestic -- gorgeous marvels in and of themselves. But their might required a certain level of respect, as well.

"I graduated nine years ago, also from Ravenclaw." Suddenly she was blushing, hiding her face. "You're that Artemius." She ducked her head.

Artemius grinned, sensing an interesting story. "That Artemius?" he echoed. "What horror stories have you heard about me?" Mind, he was a bit of a prankster, but only among friends, with the occasional assault of itching powder when someone ticked him off or messed with one of his friends. Of course, he had been a Chaser for Ravenclaw starting his fifth year, and had a penchant for bringing mochas and cappuccinos for his friends at games and had a fire mutt that left charred remains all over her cage, but Marschi never hurt anyone. Of course, it might also be his ever unexplained disappearances -- every time something had happened at home -- a silver-tainted hate owl, a particularly bad full moon, where his assistance was needed to help with repairs, or a denizen of the Cottage passing away -- he would leave to take care of it. For some reason, his humour was always missed most sorely by his "family" when he was away at Hogwarts. Still, he was curious as to what might have been said of him when he disappeared in this way -- he'd only told a very small handful of people where he'd really gone -- his very closest friends, and had them sworn to secrecy.

"The new Minister of Magic apparently writes his own speeches. And he's also apparently too kind to fire me. So I don't know exactly what my job title is right now."

Baxby gave a lopsided frown. "Yeah, that sucks." He knew numerous times his own quidditch position had been put into question due to his absences. Limbo wasn't a fun place to be.

"Favorite spell?" Arista repeated, intrigued. "Hmm... I would have to say the one that brews my morning coffee."

Artemius chuckled. "That is a good one."

"Either that or the firebell charm - I always loved blue flames anyway."

"That is a very good one," he responded, nodding. He'd used it plenty of times himself, wandering through the woods around his Welsh home, looking for any tell tale signs of their denizens' transformations, lest some unsuspecting Muggle find them first.

"As for enchanged objects - hmm... I am a huge fan of quick quills. But not a Quick Quotes Quill," she interrupted. "Just a quick quill that does the writing for me. I can talk quite a bit faster than I can write, unless I'm using a pen."

"Oh, believe me, I understand that -- I've known countless authors who have used those -- and quite frankly, if they didn't, their fingers would fall off from all the scrawling." The first that came to mind was the fellow who'd written "Hairy Snout, Human Heart" -- he'd used tons of those things, until they were worn ragged.

[b]She took a sip of the spiked hot cocoa and smiled. "Yourself?"

Artemius savoured the cocoa -- the contrasting sweet chocolate and bitter alcohol was an interesting combination -- as he pondered the question himself. "I'd have to say..." He smirked. "Right about now, it's the spells I'm gonna put on this damned robe when I get home," he joked, thumbing at the robe beside him. "Stupid me hasn't put all the drying Charms on it since the magickless week."

He smile saddened slightly. "Little things like that were kind of forgotten for a bit." Yeah, for some reason, he couldn't feel the cold to protect himself from it. Suffering a loss had that effect on you.

"But as for item, I would have to say this," he added, pulling out one of his Never-Endless Ink Quills. "It's a prototype, at the moment, but I know the fellow who makes them," he explained, passing it to her. "The magick is experimental, but it holds the ink in a pocket of space that is connected to the quill. One of those bigger-on-the-inside tricks. It's quite a bit like a Muggle ball-point pen, but it has it's flaws, still. If you don't keep the cap on it, for example, it leaks, wasting the ink -- which, although it does have a lot, is not actually endless -- and spilling it all over your pocket. But, they're insanely useful, as it means you can keep quills with you without carrying bottles of ink, too." The fellow who made them was an associate of his father's, who was quite fed up with being ridiculed for his Muggle pens, despite how useful they were compared to quills. The lack of feathers also bothered some wizards. "As soon as he perfects them, he's convinced he'll make millions, and I'm kind of inclined to agree with him," he noted with a fond smile.

Arista chuckled when he pulled out the Instant Itching Powder. "Another interesting thing I wouldn't have taken you for. But it seems Ravenclaws have always had a way of tricking people - in fact, I think we're better at it than Gryffindors. But of course," Ari put a hand over her heart. "I'm one hundred per cent biased." Even before Arista had attended Hogwarts she had been biased towards Ravenclaw. They seemed to have everything to Arista. They had the brains and the social grace, the humor and the sarcasm. Well, of course, Arista had only met a few Ravenclaws and had based all her assumptions off of that. So when she went into Hogwarts and was sorted into Ravenclaw she tended to forget or ignore the ideas that made the house weak. Ravenclaws were, in general, stubborn, aristocratic and snobbish with their knowledge sometimes. And in some ways, Arista was no exception to that stereotype that fit the Ravenclaws so well.

He said something about meeting a moose in a zoo wasn't exactly meeting a moose. Arista merely shrugged. "You apprently haven't been to the right zoos. Had a friend - crazy Hufflepuff girl - who worked for a zoo in Cardiff. She let me visit once and as a trick, locked me in the moose enclosure. I had my wand but what was a wand going to do with a moose, especially since it seemed to like blocking the door. And I was afraid if I apperated it would scare the huge creature. That is my story of meeting a moose." Arista said, taking another sip of her cocoa. "Now, do you consider that meeting a moose?"

What horror stories have you heard about me?

Arista sighed, the tinge in her cheeks slowly fading. "The girl who slept two beds down from me, well, she was kind of obessed with you. Spied on you quite a bit her last year after she had learned how to be sneaky enough. And then she would tell us stories about how she found you studying in the library, looking forlorn while reading and while a quill in your mouth. Or some such nonsense as that. She really wanted to date you, though, no offense, I can't see why since you were so much younger. I mean, I know I'm talking myself into a hole because you've grown up and changed and stuff but..." Arista sighed, taking yet another sip of cocoa to hide the idea that she had talked herself into a corner and had almost admitted something she wasn't sure if she was suppose to admit.

Arista looked at the Never-Ending Ink Quill. "Ah, see, I prefer the muggle pencils to their pens. I need the smoothness of ink and I have yet to find one in the muggle world that doesn't cost a fortune. I buy pencils in bulk and then put sharpening spells on them. Works like a charm, of course, the sharpening spells have to be fine-tuned and I am still working on how to get them to know when they have to sharpen the pencil, but it's not like I have...had," She corrected, "a ton of time before the new Minister came. Now I have to research such silly and weird things." Arista shrugged, continuing. "I spend most of my day in the cafeteria now since it's not as busy and I can avoid the limbo easier."

Arista had almost finished her cup of cocoa and her cloak had slightly dried when she thought to ask the next question. "What was your favorite subject in school - and why?"

"Another interesting thing I wouldn't have taken you for."

Artemius grinned. "I do like keeping people on their toes."

"It seems Ravenclaws have always had a way of tricking people - in fact, I think we're better at it than Gryffindors. But of course," Ari put a hand over her heart. "I'm one hundred per cent biased."

Artemius laughed, toasting his drink. "I completely understand. I'm quite certain, in fact, that I bleed blue and bronze."

Arista merely shrugged. "You apprently haven't been to the right zoos. Had a friend - crazy Hufflepuff girl - who worked for a zoo in Cardiff. She let me visit once and as a trick, locked me in the moose enclosure. I had my wand but what was a wand going to do with a moose, especially since it seemed to like blocking the door. And I was afraid if I apperated it would scare the huge creature. That is my story of meeting a moose." Arista said, taking another sip of her cocoa. "Now, do you consider that meeting a moose?"

Artemius twisted his lips in contemplation. "It sounds like an adventure. And another very good example of the insanity of Hufflepuffs. I haven't met one that was right in the head, but they are fantastic fun," he chuckled. He'd often jested with Aronel that she ought to have been a Hufflepuff, had she gone to Hogwarts.

Arista sighed, the tinge in her cheeks slowly fading. "The girl who slept two beds down from me, well, she was kind of obessed with you. Spied on you quite a bit her last year after she had learned how to be sneaky enough. And then she would tell us stories about how she found you studying in the library, looking forlorn while reading and with a quill in your mouth. Or some such nonsense as that. She really wanted to date you, though, no offense, I can't see why since you were so much younger. I mean, I know I'm talking myself into a hole because you've grown up and changed and stuff but..." Arista sighed, taking yet another sip of cocoa to hide the idea that she had talked herself into a corner and had almost admitted something she wasn't sure if she was suppose to admit.

Artemius looked at his drink as he tried to remember -- yes, that's right. She was about three years older than him -- always caught her poking about, seemingly up to no good, and occasionally asking him strange questions. He'd never been properly introduced -- he'd told Aronel about her, and they'd dubbed her Mrs. Lovett in a jest. "I think I remember her." He smirked. "My friend Aronel and I used to refer to her as Mrs. Lovett, I think." He chuckled. It was a Muggle reference, sure, but the 'love' in Lovett might not go unnoticed. "She never told me she fancied me." He smirked. "I might have taken her up on it, if she'd asked in the right fashion." Mind, he left often, so he wasn't too reliable when it came to relationships, but he would have done his best. "Age difference might have been a bit strange, but then, I was always very mature for my age." Which is odd, as, being a guy, he should have taken a while to mature. "Although I don't know if I was three years advanced at that age..." He grimaced. Yeah, that might not have worked out so well. "On second thought, it's probably better she didn't, yeah?" He chuckled.

"Ah, see, I prefer the muggle pencils to their pens. I need the smoothness of ink and I have yet to find one in the muggle world that doesn't cost a fortune. I buy pencils in bulk and then put sharpening spells on them. Works like a charm, of course, the sharpening spells have to be fine-tuned and I am still working on how to get them to know when they have to sharpen the pencil, but it's not like I have...had," She corrected, "a ton of time before the new Minister came. Now I have to research such silly and weird things." Arista shrugged, continuing. "I spend most of my day in the cafeteria now since it's not as busy and I can avoid the limbo easier."

Artemius grinned. "Giving yourself something to do is always good. I know I would go absolutely mad if I did nothing but my job all day. I've taken to bringing puzzle books with me -- sudoku and the like. I'd bring the Prophet puzzles, but it hurts my head more than occupying it, unfortunately," he laughed. Filling out blanks and logic, he could do, but those required an intimate knowledge of what was going on in the world, and even for you to have read the entire paper for three years straight, neither of which he could claim.

As it was, Arista decided to add to the random questions. "What was your favorite subject in school - and why?"

Artemius smirked. "Ah, let's see..." He propped his chin on a casual fist and looked out at the rest of the pub. Many were having an afterwork drink, or else stopping for a quick bite before going on more important business. "I suppose I'd have to say... Care of Magical Creatures. I enjoy the outdoors and in general learning about things I don't know about, although Muggle Studies was absolutely amusing, because they've got everything completely wrong." He grinned. "Whoever wrote up their itinerary is completely mad and has never lived among Muggles, that's for sure." And then he became pensive. "Although perhaps it might be a conspiracy to keep us from doing such. Code of Secrecy and all that." He smiled fondly at her. "What about you?"

"I completely understand. I'm quite certain, in fact, that I bleed blue and bronze."

"Really? Shall we try?" Arista asked with a chuckle. "I think we're more fiercely loyal than any of the other houses. Nobody is ever ashamed of being in Ravenclaw are they?" It had started out as a statement but now Ari was questioning herself. She knew many Slytherins that were ashamed of their house and she knew Hufflepuffs were often the same way. Of course, so many Hufflepuffs were slightly off-kilter so they would either be ashamed or proud to the point of disaster. She preferred the first for some reason. Maybe because it eliminated houses in the competition to see which house was the best against all the rest? Because, no matter how many years Arista had been out of Hogwarts, house rivalry and making your house appear the best was still in full swing.

“Of definitely!” Arista agreed to Artemius’ idea of Hufflepuffs being great fun. “If I ever really felt like being malicious I’m sure I could have done something terrible to the Slytherins with some wand work. I think that’s what makes them so much fun – they never take themselves too seriously – it’s like they want to be laughed at on occasion and then stand up when they need to.” Arista looked downward for a moment, thinking of the stories of the brave Hufflepuffs. “Apparently they fought well in the war.” She said finally, looking back up.

Arista listened to him speak about the girl, and how she had been named Mrs. Lovett. “Her name, if you care, was Hanna Rocheau. And I don’t know… I mean, now it might work.” Inwardly Arista was thinking something quite different than what she was saying. “But she was obsessed. I don’t know how much you want to be dating someone that is not only three years older than you, but has an obsession. I think… I think it’s wrong. Like you said, if she would have asked outright maybe everything would be better anyway.”

Artemius spoke of bringing puzzle books, particularly Sudoku. “Oh, I hate Sudoku. There’s a Muggle newspaper I used to get, but now I just use the Prophet puzzles. They keep my brain sharp – or I buy puzzle books. Whatever’s available.” Arista said with a shrug. “I can’t believe that my job is more interesting than yours. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my job when I’m doing what I was hired for. But at least you get to people watch.”

Care of Magical Creatures happened to be his favorite. She had never thought of taking Care of Magical Creatures. She too, enjoyed the outdoors but merely for the sunshine and the water. She didn’t think of working outdoors and the idea of meeting and working with multiple dangerous creatures – because Hagrid was still teaching – didn’t sound very appealing. “Mmh…Hagrid was always a bit eccentric to me. I couldn’t understand taking the class.”

But then he went on to talk about Muggle Studies and Arista had to laugh. “Muggleborn? I’m half-blood so, while I did think the information was off, it was interesting. A wizarding point of view that was a bit wrong.” She watched him, with his fist propping up his chin. She leaned her own head on an open hand, leaning forward a bit. “I loved Potions. I suppose it came from loving to cook when I was a child. And while I really liked Charms, it was definitely Potions I was most eager about going to that first day of Potions with Professor Snape. People thought I was insane but I loved him. I was sad when Slughorn and the other idiots came.”

Arista smiled, letting her hand down and resting her head back against the booth. She was content just sitting there, sipping her now mostly cooled cocoa, talking about school.

“It’s been nice to slow down.” Arista finally said, taking a final sip of her cocoa.

"Really? Shall we try?"

Artemius gave out a hearty laugh. "I'd really rather you didn't! You might make me out as a liar, which is very unflattering, I'm sure." My, she had a sense of humour! He loved that.

"I think we're more fiercely loyal than any of the other houses. Nobody is ever ashamed of being in Ravenclaw are they?"

"I haven't met any, actually."

To the war, he sighed. "A lot of people died that ought not have. The whole war, in my opinion is another case of "I'm better than you", only the bugger blasts people that don't agree. It's all pointless, and unbecoming as human beings and wizards."

“Her name, if you care, was Hanna Rocheau. And I don’t know… I mean, now it might work. But she was obsessed. I don’t know how much you want to be dating someone that is not only three years older than you, but has an obsession. I think… I think it’s wrong."

Artemius grimaced. "You might be right. Obsessions are rarely very healthy. I know how I've gotten about things in the distant past -- it's like the obsession was handcarved by God from gold or something." He chuckled. "I don't think I would do well as an ornament."

"At least you get to people watch.”

"You'd think that," he answered with a grin. "You really would. And it is true. You do get to meet insanely interesting people that you probably never would have met otherwise, but it's absolutely horrid when you're standing in a deserted hallway all day with no people to watch. Then it's trying as hell -- if you'll pardon my French--" He interrupted with a grimace. Damn, his mother had always told him not to curse in front of polite company. This is what came of such a small grip on society these days. "-- To keep your wits about you, because sometimes you can feel your IQ melting into the stone walls."

“Mmh…Hagrid was always a bit eccentric to me. I couldn’t understand taking the class.”

"Eccentric?" Hagrid, eccentric. "Well, at least Hagrid didn't get to keep his dragon. My dad had one once -- catdragon, actually. A tiny miniature one, from this wizard out in Fiji who was doing experimentations out there. Bugger lived as long as housecat, and setting things on fire, it was horrid! And then Marschi, my dog. She was a firemutt, which mean she had flame instead of fur, all over her body. Her collars and leashes had to be extra strong and fireproof." He laughed. Marschi had been a real handful...

“Muggleborn?"

"I think a great-grandmother was. I'm somewhere between half- and pure- myself, with the last couple generations magickal, but I have Muggle cousins and the like. And where I grew up, we lived amongst Muggles, so I was kind of raised as one. Although, you know, with floating pots and stuff." He chuckled. Regular chess, but gobstones and magickal, prescription strength chocolate.

“I loved Potions. I suppose it came from loving to cook when I was a child. And while I really liked Charms, it was definitely Potions I was most eager about going to that first day of Potions with Professor Snape. People thought I was insane, but I loved him. I was sad when Slughorn and the other idiots came.”

"Well, I will say, he was a snarky one, but I think, knowing how little most of the students knew Potions, he had reason to be upset. And you're right, Slughorn was a bit... off, if you ask me. Now, you didn't hear this from me, but I think his favouritism wasn't kept purely to those with famous relatives. I know I got invited to the Slug Club on behalf of my father, and if you weren't famous, you were very pretty."

She smiled happily. “It’s been nice to slow down.” Arista finally said, taking a final sip of her cocoa.

"It really has." He grinned. "Say, maybe we can do this again some time." He smiled kindly. "I enjoy talking with you."

To the war, he sighed. "A lot of people died that ought not have. The whole war, in my opinion is another case of "I'm better than you", only the bugger blasts people that don't agree. It's all pointless, and unbecoming as human beings and wizards."

Arista nodded at his idea of the war. “It’s hurt us all. And it’s always been exceptionally dangerous for us – war I mean. We, as wizards and witches, have a duty with the Magical Secrecy and things such as that – but not only that, but I think we have a duty to use our knowledge and wonders for good. To use magic for bad,” She shuddered slightly. “It just seems wrong.” But then her grin was back and she chuckled. “But don’t get me wrong – I still love a good jinx. Especially the tickling one – of course, maybe it’s because I can’t stand it myself.”

"I don't think I would do well as an ornament."

“I think it would depend.” Arista said with a smirk. “Not a Christmas tree ornament no, and not a…” She again shuddered at the choice of words that came into her head, “boy toy, for lack of better words, ornament, but I think you might look good as a clock ornament – steady, reliable, from what I’ve seen, and tall. Very tall.”

"You'd think that," he answered with a grin. "You really would. And it is true. You do get to meet insanely interesting people that you probably never would have met otherwise, but it's absolutely horrid when you're standing in a deserted hallway all day with no people to watch. Then it's trying as hell -- if you'll pardon my French--". "-- To keep your wits about you, because sometimes you can feel your IQ melting into the stone walls."

“You still seem fairly intelligent so I wouldn’t say that you have completely lost it. However, I write for a living so pardon me if my sanity meter is just a tad bit off.”

“I’ve never heard of a dog like Marshi. We had a dog once that wouldn’t stop shivering but I don’t quite think that’s the same.” Ari said with a shrug. “Magic always seems to surprise me.”

Ari colored slightly at the mention of being very pretty or famous to get into the Slug Club. “Yeah… he was a piece of work. Tried to flirt with many of the girls in the club, I can tell you that. That, of course, made him just creepy and disgusting in my book plus the fact he didn’t know how to teach. Professor Snape, I think he knew how to teach but then again, that’s just me.”

"It really has." He grinned. "Say, maybe we can do this again some time." He smiled kindly. "I enjoy talking with you."

She watched his face as he asked her on a date carefully. She didn’t want him to be joking and then answer completely seriously, and she definitely didn’t want to answer seriously if he didn’t mean it. So she decided on something in the middle – well, her form of the middle: a question. “Like coffee again or dinner again?” She was judging his interest merely by which he wanted to go on. “I know this out of this world Greek place not far from the Ministry – serves great espresso too.” There – a way if he wanted food, there was food, and if he wanted coffee, there was coffee.

Such the trickster was she!

"I love a good jinx. Especially the tickling one – of course, maybe it’s because I can’t stand it myself.”

"Ticking Jinx, eh?" He stuck out his tongue deviously as he made a note on his palm with a finger. "Tickling Jinx for Arista. Got it."

He chuckled. Boy toy. Yeah, he was definitely not a boy toy kind of guy. "Clock, eh? I'll say, that's a new one."

“You still seem fairly intelligent so I wouldn’t say that you have completely lost it. However, I write for a living so pardon me if my sanity meter is just a tad bit off.”

Artemius laughed. "Yeah, well, I was raised by wolves. Mine is a bit off, too." A common joke, although partly true. Some didn't know that, though.

“I’ve never heard of a dog like Marshi. We had a dog once that wouldn’t stop shivering but I don’t quite think that’s the same.” Ari said with a shrug. “Magic always seems to surprise me.”

He chuckled. "It is surprising. And for some reason, my father liked to seek out as odd a bunch as possible. Someone who could match his own eccentricity, I suppose."

"Professor Snape, I think he knew how to teach but then again, that’s just me.”

"Yeah. I know we always complained about him in school, but you really did learn your stuff in his classroom."

“Like coffee again or dinner again?” She was judging his interest merely by which he wanted to go on. “I know this out of this world Greek place not far from the Ministry – serves great espresso too.” There – a way if he wanted food, there was food, and if he wanted coffee, there was coffee.

He was quite certain a blush was rising on his cheeks, and he bit his lip. "Is it Wizarding or Muggle?" He kind of glanced at his coat -- it was probably dry enough by now. How long had they been chatting?

Arista eyed him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t dare.” She said with a grin, taking his hand from him and pointed her wand at it. “I could clean it – if you didn’t use invisible ink.” She let go of his hand, returning her own to the table top. It was interesting the amount of humorous comments they could make just by talking and being themselves. Arista loved being funny without adding pressure or the ridiculous giggle some girls had when they were around guys. Here, with another Ravenclaw (who just happened to be a guy) she could be herself. It was interesting to her – the thought that maybe Ravenclaws were easier to get along with, and be around, than any other house. Of course, Arista knew since she had been a Ravenclaw, the lines got quite a bit fuzzier than many people would like to admit.
“Well, you honestly look like you would keep time well.” Arista said with a teasing smile. “Losing track of time is dangerous in your job, isn’t it?”

“Ah, the founders of Rome.” She laughed. “But I don’t think you were really raised by a wolf – haven’t heard any howling or anything of the like.” Arista smirked. “But that could only come out at night.” And then she got curious, so of course, she had to bite back the excitement of learning something new when he started to talk again, this time about his dog Marshi.

“You sound like you had an interesting childhood – probably much more interesting than I did. I was pretty sheltered – my parents didn’t want me to understand what Muggles were until I was older. That was, until I accidentally ran over a lady when I was playing on my toy broomstick. I had wandered out of the boundaries of the park and into a Muggle area. Thankfully it was deserted except for her – and her huge dog.” Arista sighed, remembering. “Yep, my childhood was definitely sheltered.”

Arista smiled at the mention of really knowing your stuff. “Did he do that interrogating thing at the beginning of your first class? All I can remember is that nobody knew, and yet I was so eager to know. I’m such a Ravenclaw.” Arista said, dismissing the thought with a shake of her head.

Artemius blushed, causing Arista to smile softly, so as, maybe not to intimidate him. She wasn’t intimidating him was she? She really hoped she wasn’t because that would just be rude. “Wizarding – it’s not too fancy – about two steps up from a hole in the wall.” She noticed him glancing at his coat and stopped, unsure. “Do you need to go? I know where to find you now so we could work out coffee or food details later.”

Her hopes were starting to be crushed and once again, she was afraid of what he might say or do. “So… do you like Greek food?” Arista asked, her smile returning. “I mean, there won’t be ‘Opa!’ dancing or anything like that – although I have heard they crash plates on occasion. So that might take pressure off… plating smashing. Sounds fun to begin with.”

She glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He beamed. "Wouldn't I? Don't underestimate me."

She even confiscated his hand. “I could clean it," she warned, before checking for his writing. "If you didn’t use invisible ink.”

He shrugged, a huge grin still on his face. "I am a clever one, me."

“Well, you honestly look like you would keep time well.” Arista said with a teasing smile. “Losing track of time is dangerous in your job, isn’t it?”

"Eh... If you don't, you'll lose yourself. Get absorbed in a very dangerous, timeless vortex of doom and terror. It's also bad for one's mental capacity." He fought to keep a straight face as he said so, but ended up ending it with a smirk on his lips.

“Ah, the founders of Rome.” She laughed.

"Yeah -- I did meet Remus Lupin, actually." He nodded. Actually, whenever he was in Wales he dropped in for a meal. Or occasionally came to Wales for a meal. One could tell the difference by the ratio of talk vs. eating.

“But I don’t think you were really raised by a wolf – haven’t heard any howling or anything of the like.” Arista smirked. “But that could only come out at night.”

"Oh yeah. Especially on full moons." He nodded, again, trying for the deadpan joke, but failing miserably and chuckling instead. Some days he could make it, sometimes he couldn't.

At her tales of childhood, Artemius couldn't help but crack up. "The poor lady! I imagine you apologised. I'd be amazed her dog wasn't just as stunned as she was. Just enjoying a pleasant walk and then BAM! random witch comes flying out of nowhere! Ah!" He mimicked an expression of comic terror and then grinned.

Artemius grimaced at the question. "Actually, he did," he answered, a nervous hand going to the back of his neck. "And, ah... I got the aconite question right. I got teased for it for nearly two and a half weeks by my friends, but I did get really good marks in Potions."

“Wizarding – it’s not too fancy – about two steps up from a hole in the wall.” She noticed him glancing at his coat and stopped, unsure. “Do you need to go? I know where to find you now so we could work out coffee or food details later.”

"Nah, actually... I was just..." He reached over to the coat to pat it -- it was still ever so slightly damp, but that meant the inside was suitably dry for now. "Just checking my coat. It looks like its about dry, so..." He grinned. "So maybe I won't freeze my arse off this time, yeah?"

“So… do you like Greek food?” Arista asked, her smile returning. “I mean, there won’t be ‘Opa!’ dancing or anything like that – although I have heard they crash plates on occasion. So that might take pressure off… plating smashing. Sounds fun to begin with.”

"Aw, no 'Opa' dancing? That's the best part!" As he laughed, that familiar, friendly, laughing twinkle was returning to his eyes, as hadn't been there in some time. "Nah, I love Greek food. But the crashing plates thing is addictive, so you should be careful with that." Actually, Greek sounded really good right about now.

He leaned back, a happy smile on his face. "So what say you, pretty lady?" he asked. "Wanna go out to dinner with me?" It was rather forward -- but then, it was her idea. He'd have to leave a note for his mother about where he was going, and about the groceries -- damn, the groceries. ...Ah, well. There was nothing perishable up there as of yet, miraculously. Almost as a last minute thought, his mind brought up the idea of monetary compensation for the food. Did he have money to treat? He thought back to the grocer. Yeah, he had enough. Well... assuming it wasn't expensive there. He could afford a decent meal for two, though.

“And apparently one who cannot construct a full sentence.” Arista retorted with her own grin. “But I shall try not to underestimate you.”

“Oh no!” She said with feigned horror, “the vortex of timeless doom!” She knew he wasn’t being seriously because, of course there was no such thing as the vortex of timeless doom, but also because his large grin had gone to very serious and then to a slight smirk. Ah, smirks – they could reveal so much about a person. Was it a twitching smirk? If it was a twitching smirk it was often that they found the situation inappropriate to laugh, or they really wanted to, but they were trying to hold it back.

“Because everyone knows Remus Lupin was the founder of Rome.” And then, she got it. He didn’t mean wolves in the sense of wolves, the big hairy dog-like thing, he meant werewolves. The idea slightly unnerved her but she wasn’t going to say anything because that would just be slightly rude of her, although the curiosity and intrigue were certainly there. That would have to wait until later, when she felt more comfortable with him – although she had to admit she felt fairly comfortable now with him.

“If this is forward of me, hit me over the head with a tickling jinx. But, did you, perhaps, live by a werewolf den or clan… at least I think they do clans. Not entirely sure though, I didn’t pay attention that day in Defense against the Dark Arts.” She caught his eyes and smiled softly – she wanted to at least convey that she meant no harm by the question and was merely curious; he didn’t have to answer unless he wanted to.

Arista laughed as he said he was sure she apologized. “Actually, no, I didn’t apologize. I was so scared of what she might say that I turned right back around and flew straight back home, forgetting my parents were in the park. I only told them a few years ago actually. I was afraid they were going to have to Obliverate the dog and I thought it was just mean to take away the memory of a dog. I was young.” Arista said, grinning.

“Well,” Arista began slowly, realizing he did actually want to go and do something with her, “We could always start it up – dancing I mean.” Artemius said something about an addiction to crashing plates and Arista chuckled. “Oh yeah, Mum has always kept her plates away from me. She said I had to contain it to Greek restaurants or festivals.

"So what say you, pretty lady?" he asked. "Wanna go out to dinner with me?"

“If you don’t mind what I am wearing then sure.” Arista said, looking down. “Or we could meet outside the Ministry in half an hour – it gives me time to change and you to, well, I don’t know… do something?” She wasn’t sure if she could be ready in an hour, but she had to at least try. And if he didn’t want to wait, then that was fine too, though Arista really would prefer to change.

She stood up, grabbing her coat and hat, putting them on, ready to face the cold again.

“Because everyone knows Remus Lupin was the founder of Rome.”

Artemius cocked an eyebrow. That was a curious response. Oh, and there was the "oh!" of enlightenment. He grinned. Yeah, now she got it. And then, the doubt. He grinned bitterly. Yeah. Smooth move, Artie.

“If this is forward of me, hit me over the head with a tickling jinx. But, did you, perhaps, live by a werewolf den or clan… at least I think they do clans. Not entirely sure though, I didn’t pay attention that day in Defense against the Dark Arts.”

He shook his head. Great. So, the topic was on him at last. He took a deep breath. "Actually, that's only the feral ones. Pack, den, are the correct terms. And in truth, my mother was a lycanthropologist. And she did a home clinic type thing -- kind of like rehab for the recently changed." The cringe was worrisome. "Mind, it's gone now, so you don't have to worry about having silver around me." Not that silver was necessarily a bad thing for him. Just not something to take home to the Baxby cottage -- if - no, when - the new one came about. After he said it, he realised she might get the impression that he had lycanthropy. ...A curious thing. He decided not to correct himself -- see how she treated him if she thought he was a werewolf. It wasn't an experiment he performed very often.

"Well, we could always start up the dancing."

He grinned, still a little saddened by the previous topic. "That could be fun.

“If you don’t mind what I am wearing then sure.” And then she checked herself. [b]"...Or we could meet outside the Ministry in half an hour -- it gives me time to change and you to... Well, I don't know. Do something?"

He grinned honestly now. "That sounds like a plan. I could do with some freshening up, myself." A witch that could be ready in half an hour? He was quite certain this was a mythical creature. He decided to see if his luck would be so good. If it was, he would be a very lucky man indeed.

She bundled herself up against the cold. "Although..." He debated on what exactly he wanted to say... "We could just meet here. It'd be easier than walking all the way from the Ministry." The fact that he lived upstairs, he decided not to mention.

Arista listened carefully and attentively as Artemius described his mother's job. She cringed, but not because she thought it revolting or disturbing but because it thought it an interesting line of work... and dangerous. "It's a noble profession, though dangerous. But like my dad always said, 'if you love it and you're good at it, then go for it.' And I can imagine she's good at it - calming, soothing and caring for people." She wondered how or why his mother got into the profession and then she realized he hadn't talked about himself in that. Was it not a choice of free will but one to save her son? No, she thought, he couldn't be. But if he was, would it make a difference? A lycanthrop was no different from any other human being except for being a werewolf - they still had feelings and emotions and thoughts.

"Okay then... after we've stuffed ourselves, we'll start dancing - even if we get weird looks." Arista tried to remember if there was actually dancing but it didn't matter because one of them would probably chicken out anyway.

Artemius asked if they could meet at the Leaky Cauldron instead of the Ministry. "Sure. So in case it's still raining, inside here?" She asked, figuring on London weather to continue the rain.

She got outside of the pub and Apparated to her flat. There, she knew she had limited time so she picked an outfit she was going to wear to a party later that week. Arista finished getting dressed and doing her makeup early enough that she had enough time to fight with her hair. It was long and thick which never made for quick styles. But she did make it back to the Leaky Cauldron on time, actually three minutes late by their clock, not late by hers.

"Ready?" She offered an arm when she saw him, and started off towards the restaurant. "They have this amazing pasta bake with lamb and cheese. I always get it but I'm predictable." Arista said, shrugging as they turned a corner. "I guess it comes from being half-Greek - I know good Greek food when I see it."

They arrived at the restaurant where Arista finally felt warm enough to take off her coat. She had dressed sensibly for the weather - flats and a long sleeved pink t-shirt underneath her dress.

Arista cringed."It's a noble profession, though dangerous. But like my dad always said, 'if you love it and you're good at it, then go for it.' And I can imagine she's good at it - calming, soothing and caring for people."

Artemius smiled. That was a good reply to his mother's profession. It was promising. "Yeah. I kind of inherited that. And my particular brand of humour and absolutely adoreable baby face make me an irreplaceable addition to her occupation," he added, grinning cheekily. Not that he believed it, but that's what he was told.

"Okay then... after we've stuffed ourselves, we'll start dancing - even if we get weird looks."

Artemius laughed. "You have courage, I'll give you that." It sounded like she was joking. He was curious whether this was all talk or if she was really the kind to dance in public. He had to admit, he rather wanted to know.

"Sure. So in case it's still raining, inside here?"

"Sounds perfect. Even right at this table, if you like." He looked about. "Well. If possible." It was starting to get late. People would be arriving shortly for their after work drinks in abundance.

Having made that clear, he walked her out of the pub, and she Apparated away. He sighed as he turned back into the pub. It was a bit embarassing, living above a pub. He made a note to start looking for flats, so that they could move out. No doubt they could afford it, although he wondered how long he really wanted to live with his mother. She was in no rush to be rid of him, for sure, but he felt a bit of a responsibility to get off on his own life. She would understand that.

Feeling rather depressed, he returned to his room, slipping in quietly, and looking to a clock on the wall for the time. "Damn," he muttered. He and Arista had been talking for some time. In fact, as if to attest to the fact, his stomach gave a rumble and he grimaced.

On the bed, his mother moved slightly. He tiptoed to the other side of the room and, quiet as he could, picked out something nice -- a dark green-blue button up shirt with a gray tee underneath - damnit, where were his ties? He fought to mutter under his breath to keep from waking the sleeping Healer, and gave up - unbuttoned at the top. A nice pair of black slacks and a black jacket: another of his Zimmerman's, but the stripes were there by texture, rather than pattern, so that they showed in the light and when up close. Dark colours were flattering to his complexion, he was told. Pale skin, jet black hair, and bright grey eyes. His nice pair of shoes -- he took a moment to relish in taking off his work boots and put on a fresh pair of socks - black, of course. The suit look was always good for him. He'd inherited it from his father. Mind, his father had worn his hair longer and had considerable facial hair, but he cleaned up very well. By the time he'd graduated Hogwarts, Artemius had grown out of the fad of wearing his hair down his back (something he'd picked up from one of the werewolf denizens the summer before his third year) and had it cut very short these days. Required more frequent haircuts, but was easier to groom. He combed it quickly -- what water was still there from the rain made his hair shine pleasantly. He added a dash of cologne -- he didn't want to smell like pub, and looked once more to his mother, who was fast asleep. He gave her a quick kiss on the temple and slipped back out, leaving the jacket and taking his wool coat.

As he checked his watch, he'd actually managed to arrive 11 minutes early -- a bit later than his usual 15, but as he looked about, he didn't see her. He rolled his eyes at himself. Curse this being early thing. Especially when waiting on a witch. Still, he tried to find a spot -- his table had been taken.

When she appeared, he was a bit surprised at her punctuality. He smiled, pleased. She spotted him and smiled.

"Ready?" She offered an arm to him, and he chuckled.

"Ready if you are," he replied, slipping his hand beneath hers, holding her much as a princess on his arm. He smirked. She was going to be fun. Heck, she was fun. She is fun, he decided.

Curious, he easily kept up with her, his own long legs complimenting hers, as she spoke of the up-coming restaurant. "They have this amazing pasta bake with lamb and cheese. I always get it, but I'm predictable," Arista explained, shrugging as they turned a corner. "I guess it comes from being half-Greek - I know good Greek food when I see it."

"Half-Greek? Really?" he asked. "That sounds like lots of fun." He found himself imagining a dinner with her and a house full of Greeks. But then, he looked away bashfully. That was a little forward, wasn't it?

Hoping she didn't notice, he stopped with her at a restaurant that did indeed have a very Greek name -- in fact, he wondered curiously how it was pronounced as he opened the door for Arista and let her in. As he followed, he found it was very warm and copied her, taking off his coat, and draping it over an arm. Beside him, she was wearing a very pretty dress, with a long-sleeved pink t-shirt underneath. He smiled fondly. Well, that adoreable.

He looked to the hostess. "Table for two, please?"

"Sounds like you were being buttered up." Arista said frankly, although not unkindly because she was smiling broadly. "Flattery can get parents almost anywhere." It was true. How many times had her parents said she was extremely wonderful and then proceeded to ask her to clean her room or help make dinner? She hadn't minded until she was old enough to realize it was a ruse.

"Mmmh..." Arista nodded. Inwardly her mind was whirring with Only courage? but she answered differently. "Must have some Hufflepuff in me - most would say I'm crazy." She rolled her eyes before letting them settle on Artemius with a smile. They made the arrangements clear and when she returned in her white dress he was sitting at a different table, waiting for her.

He chuckled when she asked if he was ready. "I'm not too late am I? The clock in my flat runs early so I thought I was doing okay time-wise." His arm rested underneath her's and she felt very comfortable with Artemius as they left the Leaky Cauldron.

So comfortable in fact that after a block or so she actually took his hand, letting it's largeness wrap around her own piano-like hand.

"Oh yes, my family is a hoot. My dad's family is from Santorini but some live near London now. My mum's Scottish so it's an interesting combination at holidays." Wondering, for a moment, if she was being too forward she continued, "You should see it - of course they don't bite..." She smacked herself internally, "but that's just a really bad pun." She knew his mum's occupation - and yet she had made a joke about biting. It was stupid and inconsiderate of her.

Artemius guided her to a table after the hostess showed them one. "Ah, Miss Seaborne, it's a pleasure to see you again. Your cousin Elsa stopped by just the other day." The hostess said pleasurably handing them both a menu before leaving.

"So Greek food lover or a first-timer?" Arista asked, glancing down at the menu to make sure they still had her favorite.

"Sounds like you were being buttered up." Arista replied. "Flattery can get parents almost anywhere."

"Perhaps." It might have been amusing if it wasn't that every time the traits were mentioned wasn't in reference to him helping his mother's patients. But, that was his own baggage.

"Must have some Hufflepuff in me - most would say I'm crazy," she replied, rolling her eyes madly before smiling at him. He chuckled.

"I'm not too late am I? The clock in my flat runs early so I thought I was doing okay time-wise."

"Actually, you are very much on time."

Apparently the princess thing was silly -- she instead slipped her fingers amongst his and let their hands swing between them. He let a smile rise on his face as they continued.

"Oh yes, my family is a hoot. My dad's family is from Santorini but some live near London now. My mum's Scottish so it's an interesting combination at holidays."

"Sounds like it. I know it sounds crazy, but I've always wanted to try haggis, just to see what all the fuss is about. And so when it's mentioned I can argue to the contrary or agree with my own experience, however it spins. As it is, mine are both British -- although my dad's Irish. And I consider myself Welsh, having lived there for most of my life." He grinned. It was true...

"You should see it - of course they don't bite..."

He felt a grin. She was making light of the situation. He had always used humour to come to grips with a bad situation, so perhaps this was a good thing.

"But that's just a really bad pun."

"Perhaps maybe a bit. But you don't have to worry about my family. None of them actually bite," he explained. "Well... none of my technical family. But when I said I was raised by wolves, I mean it. I think I've known Molly about as long as I've been alive, and she's the sweetest, dearest woman I've ever met, but she's one of my mother's patients. She kind of had a... rehab clinic type thing to our home, so I grew up with her work, quite literally. And it really makes you grateful, y'know?" Yeah, grateful when the bubotuber puss and silver poisoned owls didn't come in.

As their waitress gave them their menus, she greeted Arista fondly. "Oh no," Artemius gasped. "A cousin Elsa. Should I be worried?" He managed to pull of the straight-face this time, and was a bit proud.

"So Greek food lover or a first-timer?" Arista asked, glancing down at the menu.

"Well, I've had a few gyros in my time, and I went to a Greek Festival one summer, but to be honest, it as a long time ago, and about the only thing I remember is that gyros are awesome and that goat cheese tastes a lot better than you would think." Again, he pulled of the straight face joke, and smiled proudly at the accomplisment. Two at a time!

“You sound surprised that I’m on time. Is that not usual for you?” Arista asked, chuckling herself. She knew females could take an absurdly long time to get ready. She knew – she had lived with them for seven years at Hogwarts. And although her hair was one of the thickest in the bunch, it had never stopped her from being the first one down the stairs in the morning.

He mentioned his own heritage and Arista nodded. “I’ve always wanted to go to Wales – Cardiff actually. But as for haggis…” She grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “It smells disgusting – but it doesn’t taste bad. So I suppose, just hold your nose? I know a great place for it – up near the family’s castle-esque place in Scotland. If you really wanted to try it I could have my uncle send some down?”

Arista smiled softly. “You have such an interesting childhood. Mine is so stick in the mud – two half-bloods met, got married, had two kids. Although,” She said, brightening. “I was offered a spot at the Agora – the wizarding school in Greece. And maybe I should have taken it – but I think when you get heart-filled Greeks against super stubborn Scots, the Scottish in me is always going to win.” She shrugged, being honest. “And I’m glad you survived it all – rehabbing werewolves can’t be safe for anyone around the clinic.”

"Oh no," Artemius gasped. "A cousin Elsa. Should I be worried?"
“We all call her Eli, and yes, you should be worried. She’s a horrible guy-snatcher.” Arista said with the same calm and intensity that Artemius had asked her with. “If she sees you, I’m history.” She took her water glass which was sitting empty, and filled it from the pitcher beside it.

"Well, I've had a few gyros in my time, and I went to a Greek Festival one summer, but to be honest, it as a long time ago, and about the only thing I remember is that gyros are awesome and that goat cheese tastes a lot better than you would think."

Arista scoffed. “A Greek Festival? Oh… that’s it. Next time we have more than a few hours off I’m taking you to Santorini. This place does a great job but you have to experience real Greek food. It’s amazing.” Arista said, remembering. “I think you’d like it – although you might need a sun protection charm – it’s really sunny there – even now. I used to love going there for Christmas.” Arista said, knowing she might be scaring him with her intensity, but ignoring the slight warning signal that was going off in her head.

A waiter appeared and Arista ordered her favorite dish – the one with the pasta, cheese and lamb. Artemius ordered and then Arista smiled. “So what do you do when you aren’t on dates or protecting the wizarding government?”

“You sound surprised that I’m on time. Is that not usual for you?” Arista asked, chuckling herself.

"People arriving when they say they will? Actually, yes. And being raised to show up twenty minutes early doesn't help when the rest of the world decides to run late. But, it is a pleasant surprise."

“I’ve always wanted to go to Wales – Cardiff actually."

He laughed. "Cardiff? Why in God's name would you want to go to Cardiff?" He suddenly gave her a dubious look. "You're not a Torchwood fan, are you?"

"But as for haggis…” She grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “It smells disgusting – but it doesn’t taste bad. So I suppose, just hold your nose? I know a great place for it – up near the family’s castle-esque place in Scotland. If you really wanted to try it I could have my uncle send some down?”

Artemius chuckled. "Yes! Please do! It'd be something to scratch off my bucket list, for sure..."

“You have such an interesting childhood. Mine is so stick in the mud – two half-bloods met, got married, had two kids. Although,” She said, brightening. “I was offered a spot at the Agora – the wizarding school in Greece. And maybe I should have taken it – but I think when you get heart-filled Greeks against super stubborn Scots, the Scottish in me is always going to win.”

Artemius laughed at that. "I can agree with you on that one." Molly was Scottish, and boy was she stubborn!

“And I’m glad you survived it all – rehabbing werewolves can’t be safe for anyone around the clinic.”

Artemius shrugged. "It requires a decent amount of precaution, as much as anything else along those lines. Although I've very nearly become a lycanthrope myself a handful of times myself. Now, that's the kind of thing that'll put the fear of God into you. But, that's only during the full moon cycle. Rest of the time, they're wonderful people. I wouldn't have picked a better lifestyle," he said with a fond smile. He missed it, really. He was hoping to get the new Cottage up and running as soon as possible.

“We all call her Eli, and yes, you should be worried. She’s a horrible guy-snatcher.” Arista said with the same calm and intensity that Artemius had asked her with. “If she sees you, I’m history.”

Her eyes glowed with such an intensity, Artemius couldn't help laughing. He pointed at her. "That was good. But in all honesty. How many Greek relatives of yours are crawling around here? Should I be watching my back?" he asked, turning around to the rest of the restaurant as he did.

Arista scoffed. “A Greek Festival? Oh… that’s it. Next time we have more than a few hours off I’m taking you to Santorini." Artemius smiled. That sounded like a fun experience. "This place does a great job but you have to experience real Greek food. It’s amazing.” Arista said, remembering. “I think you’d like it – although you might need a sun protection charm: it’s really sunny there – even now. I used to love going there for Christmas.”

He chuckled. "You know, I have an aunt or something -- to be honest, I can't remember how the hell I'm related to them -- down in Southern France and we used to go there for the summers. Imagine our culture shock when a bunch of Brits go from where 10 is not bad, and then we get to the Mediterranean and its 22, and they're laughing at us." He chuckled. "Mind, since it's still wintertime, it might not be too bad."

“So what do you do when you aren’t on dates or protecting the wizarding government?”

"Err... groceries," he answered, looking at the ceiling like a goof, as if looking for ideas. "Sleeping. Sipping Earl Grey - I think I'm addicted, actually. And, ah, running into strangers, for the most part." He grinned. "What about you?"

“Twenty minutes early?” Arista asked, slightly astounded. “I have never met anyone who tries to be twenty minutes early. If I did that, I would have to bring a book or something. I get impatient – ergo why I always try to be on time and nothing more, although at work I tend to be five minutes early myself.” She vowed to herself that if there was going to be a second date, she would try to arrive twenty minutes early. But twenty minutes early from the thirty minutes she had allotted would only be ten minutes. And it took her longer than that to put her hair up sometimes, let alone do anything else.

He looked at her dubiously, trying to figure out if she was a Torchwood fan. “No, no. I saw it once, but I didn’t like the plot-line. Why capture aliens? Why not dragons or things that seem more real? And anyway, there’s got to have been aliens around England before them – I mean, we wizarding folk know how to deal with stuff like this – at least, our government is suppose to know how – so haven’t we been dealing with aliens longer than Torchwood has?” She paused, realizing she was starting to babble. “But Cardiff looked gorgeous and they have this huge old bookstore. It’s supposedly three levels of nothing but antique and rare books. I’m a bookworm – terrible bookworm actually.” Arista admitted with a blush.

"Yes! Please do! It'd be something to scratch off my bucket list, for sure..."

“Well then, I shall send an owl promptly when I get home.” Arista said airily, trying to sound all pompous. However, that failed since she started giggling. After controlling the slight fit, she straightened up and finished answering his response. “If you promise me to put a clothespin over your nose when you cook and eat it, I’ll let you enjoy it alone. Otherwise, I have to come supervise. The smell can actually knock some people out. Of course, it probably wouldn’t knock you out since you’re a bigger guy, but you never know. It’s the Beater-looking players you have to look out for.” She said with a cheeky grin. Had Artemius played Quidditch? Arista couldn’t honestly remember. She had always loved to watch, but play – oh dear Merlin no! It was fast-paced enough without adding her own slight clumsiness on a broom to it. She could fly from point A to point B but anything after that.... the special tricks and what-nots, were not her specialty.

“But it’s got to take a toll doesn’t it? I mean, having a boring safe childhood takes it toll just as much as living in a werewolf rehab clinic. I suppose though, you get used to the risks. And I suppose it depends on the person. Some people would develop a hatred, some… some that misunderstand could come away from it afraid and confused. And maybe, maybe your childhood is the best thing for you. Who knows? All I know is that I shouldn’t complain because you aren’t some crazy psycho murderer who decided that apparating on people was the perfect way to stab a knife into their chest.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling. “So thanks, for not being a psycho murderer.”

“No, no. It’s a Thursday right? Yep, my family comes on Saturday’s. You don’t have to worry.” She glanced around, just to make sure that there weren’t any relatives to make her a liar. “Well, the sous chef is my cousin’s ex-boyfriend but I don’t think he’ll be coming out here and I don’t think he talks to Alexi anyway.” Her eyes rested on Artemius and she smiled. “I think it’s a Greek goal to be attached to every other Greek in London. And so, believe me, the family reunions are scary. Not to mention we’re running out of Greeks to marry. That’s why, well also love, my dad married my mum.”

Arista chuckled at the story. They both had such interesting stories to tell and she loved hearing him tell them. His voice captivated and she could imagine him, at one time, reading a story out loud or even retelling one, and having everyone in the room listening, whether they wanted to or not. “It’s… oh, I don’t know… probably 16 or so. It gets cool at night, but not like here – probably 12 at night.”

“Earl Grey, shopping, sleeping and running into strangers…” Arista recounted. “Interesting, although I disapprove in your choice of drink. Myself, I read, journal, cook – I love to cook – sleep, and groceries. But most of my salary goes towards books. I’m addicted,” Arista said with a shrug, “what can I say?”

“Do you have any other siblings?”

“Twenty minutes early?” Arista asked, slightly astounded. “I have never met anyone who tries to be twenty minutes early."

Artemius laughed. "Yeah, I get that reaction a lot."

"If I did that, I would have to bring a book or something. I get impatient – ergo why I always try to be on time and nothing more, although at work I tend to be five minutes early myself.”

"Nah, what's crazy is the uber obsessed types who show up to work three and a half hours early, simply because they have no life out of the office. Makes me look like a sloth, really. It's kind of sad..."

“No, no. I saw it once, but I didn’t like the plot-line. Why capture aliens? Why not dragons or things that seem more real? And anyway, there’s got to have been aliens around England before them – I mean, we wizarding folk know how to deal with stuff like this – at least, our government is suppose to know how – so haven’t we been dealing with aliens longer than Torchwood has?”

He smirked. "It's actually just a Doctor Who spinoff, but everyone loves John Barrowman, so he got his own show." He chuckled. "Kind of like the Sarah Jane Adventures -- also a DW spinoff, by the by. Myself, I stuck to the original show. To be honest, I was rooting for Rose Tyler all along -- not that that probably makes any sense..." He drifted off, babbling himself.

“But actually, Cardiff just looked gorgeous; and they have this huge old bookstore. It’s supposedly three levels of nothing but antique and rare books. I’m a bookworm – terrible bookworm actually.” She blushed, and Artemius smiled.

"Aw, come on! You say 'bookworm' like it's a bad thing!"

“Well then, I shall send an owl promptly when I get home.” She announced, and then immediately fell into a fit of giggles.

He beamed. "Are you mocking me, miss?"

“If you promise me to put a clothespin over your nose when you cook and eat it, I’ll let you enjoy it alone. Otherwise, I have to come supervise. The smell can actually knock some people out."

"Golly, that sounds reassuring," he replied dryly.

"Of course, it probably wouldn’t knock you out since you’re a bigger guy, but you never know. It’s the Beater-looking players you have to look out for.” She said with a cheeky grin.

Artemius laughed again. "I don't know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment. I was always a Chaser, myself. Although I can bat a mean ball." He'd played on the Ravenclaw team since his third year, and might have made it to be Captain with his level of dedication, where it not for his haphazard absences that called him away from Hogwarts from time to time.

“But it’s got to take a toll doesn’t it? I mean, having a boring safe childhood takes its toll just as much as living in a werewolf rehab clinic. I suppose though, you get used to the risks."

"Well, of course. Although Molly is a sweet lady and a great cook, her wolf is also mean and fast. Even my best friend in the whole world sees me as a snack through a wolf's eyes. You learn to not be too familiar with them as beasts -- they're wild creatures, and dangerous. But any other time of the month, the only thing you have to worry about is not serving silver silverware."

"And I suppose it depends on the person. Some people would develop a hatred, some… some that misunderstand could come away from it afraid and confused. And maybe, maybe your childhood is the best thing for you. Who knows? All I know is that I shouldn’t complain, because you aren’t some crazy psycho murderer who decided that apparating on people was the perfect way to stab a knife into their chest.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling. “So thanks, for not being a psycho murderer.”

He'd already started laughing before the apology. "Well, you're very welcome! I'll send your thanks on to my mother." He grinned.

“No, no. It’s a Thursday right?"

"Ah... I believe so."

"Yep, my family comes on Saturday’s. You don’t have to worry.” Artemius grinned, but even Arista seemed to check for more relatives. "Well, the sous chef is my cousin’s ex-boyfriend, but I don’t think he’ll be coming out here, and I don’t think he talks to Alexi anyway.”

Artemius grinned. "Very reassuring. I'd hate to have to meet up to a parent's expectations on the very first date."

She smiled. “I think it’s a Greek goal to be attached to every other Greek in London. And so, believe me, the family reunions are scary. Not to mention we’re running out of Greeks to marry. That’s why -- well, also love -- my dad married my mum.”

"Oh no. Running out of creepy cousins to match you up with? Does this mean random wizards you meet on the street still have a chance? Or are you holding out for the Greek Adonis of your dreams to make your family happy?" Part of it was teasing, but part of it was curiousity. Having not lived in a culture that insisted on you marrying someone your own race -- why, it was long thought that he would one day marry Aronel -- let alone one that was entirely human, it was a strange concept for him to accept.

“It’s… oh, I don’t know… probably 16 or so. It gets cool at night, but not like here – probably 12 at night.”

"Like summer in January," he grimaced. "Lovely." And yet, he laughed. Culture shock, here he comes. Still, his father had lived for the diversity -- having no more Blake Baxby running off and returning with eccentric gifts meant he would have to go off and have some adventures himself.

“Earl Grey, shopping, sleeping and running into strangers…” Arista recounted. “Interesting, although I disapprove in your choice of drink. Myself, I read, journal, cook – I love to cook – sleep, and groceries. But most of my salary goes towards books. I’m addicted,” Arista said with a shrug, “what can I say?”

"You're a Ravenclaw, what can you say?" He grinned. "Cooking is always good -- I never did a whole lot of it, but what I do make, I'm rather good at. And what, may I ask, exactly, is wrong with Earl Grey?" he asked, intending to be offended, although he was smiling. "I happen to love the stuff. Freshly brewed, with just a bit of sugar. Makes a fantastic snack, especially with some biscuits. What pray tell do you drink, then?" His evening rum and coke had been long forgotten. Too late, he remembered it -- it was the first time in nearly three weeks he hadn't had one after work. It was strange to think of it - now, far from the gringy, grungy Cauldron, far from depressed, and in fact, happier than he had been in some time. He was sure mentioning that particular drink might be met with more disapproval.

“Do you have any other siblings?”

Artemius smirked. "Do you know, that's a really confusing question for me?" As he was ready to add to it, the waitress arrived with their meals -- a lamb and cheese pasta for Arista, and a lamb Slouvaki for Artemius. As he looked at the amount of food, he was surprised.

"Wow. That's quite a bit of meat there. It said shish kabob -- I didn't know they meant they'd spear the whole lamb up there for me." He chuckled.

"But anyway -- siblings. If you mean blood and bone, no. I am the only Baxby descendant. There were always younger ones about, though -- my dear friend Aronel - who was about two years my juniour, from America -- lived with us since I was..." He pondered that one. "Four? I think, and she's about as close to a sister as I've ever known." He grinned. "She was my fellow mischeif-maker, and partner-in-crime."

"It's actually just a Doctor Who spinoff, but everyone loves John Barrowman, so he got his own show." He chuckled. "Kind of like the Sarah Jane Adventures -- also a DW spinoff, by the by. Myself, I stuck to the original show. To be honest, I was rooting for Rose Tyler all along -- not that that probably makes any sense..."

“Ah, yes, well, Rose Tyler has the ability to make people root for her I, personally, was a fan of the tenth Doctor. But ah, oh well. They have to leave occasionally.” Arista said kindly, to let Artemius know that he hadn’t just been babbling to her.

"Aw, come on! You say 'bookworm' like it's a bad thing!"

“Well, it can be a bad thing.” Arista said, a normal color returning to her cheeks. “I mean, I would much rather spend time with a good book than doing my job, although I love it when I’m doing what I was hired for, and I would much rather spend time with a book than worry about dating. Which I suppose, is your job to change, since you’ve already done so well.” It was true in that she enjoyed spending time, right here and now, with Artemius than with Mr. Darcy but Mr. Darcy was hard to beat.

“Never sir.” Arista said, her face straightening into something serious, so as not to give herself away, although she was probably sure that the giggling had already done that.

"I don't know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment. I was always a Chaser, myself. Although I can bat a mean ball."

“I’m sure you can. I prefer, however to watch. Bludgers trying to whack me in the head and guys like you throwing a ball that seems to always go right by me, and then there’s the Seekers…” Arista said with a shudder. “Flying in and out around players. Yep – it’s decided that I’m much better at sitting and watching. Fear of flying perhaps?” She shrugged. It was something she hadn’t decided if she had, since she was tolerable on a broom but somehow Quidditch scared the life out of her.


"Well, of course. Although Molly is a sweet lady and a great cook, her wolf is also mean and fast. Even my best friend in the whole world sees me as a snack through a wolf's eyes. You learn to not be too familiar with them as beasts -- they're wild creatures, and dangerous. But any other time of the month, the only thing you have to worry about is not serving silver silverware."

“Can they really get sick by using silver silverware? Wow… never would have guessed that. I guess you learn something new every day.”

His laughing started before her thank you on not being a psycho murderer. “What?” She asked, grinning herself. “London is filled with them. I’ve had to write about them you know.” She said, looking at him very wisely as if she knew everything there was to know about London’s pockets of psycho murderers. “Between the Leaky Cauldron and that other place – that’s the worst.”

"Yep, my family comes on Saturday’s. You don’t have to worry.” Artemius grinned, but even Arista seemed to check for more relatives. "Well, the sous chef is my cousin’s ex-boyfriend, but I don’t think he’ll be coming out here, and I don’t think he talks to Alexi anyway.”


"Oh no. Running out of creepy cousins to match you up with? Does this mean random wizards you meet on the street still have a chance? Or are you holding out for the Greek Adonis of your dreams to make your family happy?"

“Oh Merlin no!” She said laughing. “I couldn’t possibly wait for some Adonis. You’re here and now and I think that’s all that matters. So hypothetically, if a guy was to meet me randomly on the street and charm me with his Ravenclaw wit – Ravenclaw is my own necessary quality – then maybe there might be more than a first date. And if my parents want me to marry an Adonis, well then,” Arista said smartly, “they have to transfigure the guy of my dreams. Because being Greek is important to me, but it’s not the only part of me.”



"You're a Ravenclaw, what can you say?" He grinned. "Cooking is always good -- I never did a whole lot of it, but what I do make, I'm rather good at. And what, may I ask, exactly, is wrong with Earl Grey?" he asked, intending to be offended, although he was smiling. "I happen to love the stuff. Freshly brewed, with just a bit of sugar. Makes a fantastic snack, especially with some biscuits. What pray tell do you drink, then?"

“Espresso – strong Greek espresso. I have my family still living in Greece send me buckets upon buckets of the stuff. I can’t get enough of it. As for Earl Grey, it has no taste. It doesn’t wake you up or calm you down so I don’t think it has a use in the hot beverage category. And I enjoy hot chocolate though I’ve gotten picky about it. And some fun alcoholic beverages, but mostly espresso.”

“Oh yeah… sorry.” Arista said, smiling apologetically.

“She sounds lovely.” The explanation of siblings was pleasant and Arista nodded, understanding. “I have one sister myself. She’s two years younger than me although she ended up at the Greek school. We used to be a lot closer than we are now,” Arista said, shrugging, “but I suppose her going to live in Greece has something to do with it.”

“Ah, yes, well, Rose Tyler has the ability to make people root for her. I, personally, was a fan of the tenth Doctor."

"Oh! Were you?" Artemius grinned. "Well. It's always good to find another Whovian! I did enjoy Tennant -- his expressions are rather wonderful, although he did get very dark -- a little too much so, for my tastes. I really did like Eccleston, too, though. Enjoyed him quite a bit. Although, my classic who is decidedly not very good." He grimaced at his own ignorance, a hand making it to the back of his neck nervously.

"But ah, oh well. They have to leave occasionally.” Arista said kindly.

"Yes, they don't live forever. As it is, I'm hoping 11 is good -- Tennant should be an interesting act to follow. Cheeky and cute and foxy as he was -- err, allegedly."

“Well, it can be a bad thing.” Arista said, a normal color returning to her cheeks. “I mean, I would much rather spend time with a good book than doing my job, although I love it when I’m doing what I was hired for, and I would much rather spend time with a book than worry about dating. Which I suppose, is your job to change, since you’ve already done so well.”

"Ah! Well, thank you. I am not very experienced, but I do try my very best." He gave her a great smile.

“Never sir.”

He wagged a warning finger at her, a smirk on his lips. "I'm watching you, little lady."

“I’m sure you can. I prefer, however to watch. Bludgers trying to whack me in the head and guys like you throwing a ball that seems to always go right by me, and then there’s the Seekers…” Arista said with a shudder. “Flying in and out around players. Yep – it’s decided that I’m much better at sitting and watching. Fear of flying perhaps?” She shrugged.

"Well, fear of Quidditch is one thing. But fear of flying?" That was seriously sad stuff. "That would take all the fun out of being a witch or wizard, don't you think? I mean, how are we to pick on the Muggles on Samhein without scooting about on our brooms, scaring the bejesus out of old ladies and their dogs?" By 'bejesus' he was fighting his own laughter and great grin to speak.

“Can they really get sick by using silver silverware?"

"Yeah, silver poisoning."

"Wow… never would have guessed that. I guess you learn something new every day.”

He smiled wanly. "You do indeed." He decided it best not to mention the silver spiked inked hate mail.

“What?” She asked, grinning herself. “London is filled with them. I’ve had to write about them you know.” She said, looking at him very wisely as if she knew everything there was to know about London’s pockets of psycho murderers. “Between the Leaky Cauldron and that other place – that’s the worst.”

"That other place?" Artemius grinned. "Which is that? Hog's Head or summat?" He chuckled. "Are there still Sweeney Todds and Jack the Rippers about that I haven't heard about yet?"

“Oh Merlin no!” She said laughing. “I couldn’t possibly wait for some Adonis. You’re here and now, and I think that’s all that matters."

"Gah, don't stroke my ego like that," he replied, sure a bit of rose was coming to his cheeks. "It's unhealthy for a guy like me."

"So... hypothetically. If a guy was to meet me randomly on the street and charm me with his Ravenclaw wit – Ravenclaw is my own necessary quality – then maybe there might be more than a first date."

Oh ho. Charming her with my Ravenclaw wit, am I? Artemius thought to himself a bit smugly. She was doing terribly wonderful things to his self-esteem.

"And, if my parents want me to marry an Adonis, well then,” Arista said smartly, “they have to transfigure the guy of my dreams. Because being Greek is important to me, but it’s not the only part of me.”

He nodded, smiling. "I think that's very reassuring... to random Ravenclaw fellows... I suppose." He shrugged, not knowing how to answer that impersonally.

“Espresso – strong Greek espresso. I have my family still living in Greece send me buckets upon buckets of the stuff. I can’t get enough of it."

"Ah... Yes. Espresso is a very wonderful thing," Artemius agreed, nodding. "Always liked espresso better than coffee, for some obscene reason. Hot mug of cocoa, spiked with some espresso is wonderful fun..."

As for Earl Grey, it has no taste. It doesn’t wake you up or calm you down, so I don’t think it has a use in the hot beverage category. And I enjoy hot chocolate, though I’ve gotten picky about it. And some fun alcoholic beverages, but mostly espresso.”

Artemius scoffed. "Well, you can't live in the UK and have that kind of opinion!" He grinned. "I think the problem is, YOU have not had a proper cuppa tea. And there is a method. See, Earl Grey is a black tea, but lots of lesser tea drinkers decide that they want their tea decaf, which ruins it. And because it's a black tea, if you stew it for longer than 3-5 minutes, it turns bitter, which is just plain unattractive, as well as irreversible. A perfect pot of tea is aromatic, warms the soul, and can cure any heartache at all," he says with a loving smile. "A nice hot cuppa tea will make your entire body warm with lush affection and happiness, but also give you that kick of caffeine to keep you up, should you drink enough of it. And, many are known to get an addiction to the stuff." Here he gestures modestly to himself. "Such as myself." He glances about and then looks to her. "I make you a deal. I get an education in Greek cuisine, and you get an education in fine teas. How is that?"

“Oh yeah… sorry.” Arista said, smiling apologetically.

"Hardly your fault. Unless this is an extraordinary amount of food, and you are somehow to blame, in which case it would entirely be your fault. And I sincerely doubt it is." He grinned.

“I have one sister myself. She’s two years younger than me, although she ended up at the Greek school. We used to be a lot closer than we are now,” Arista said, shrugging, “but I suppose her going to live in Greece has something to do with it.”

"Is most of your family from around here, or Greece?" As they spoke, he tried very careful to eat his souvlaki without looking a pig -- it was a challenge he hoped he could overcome.

“Well if you ever need to talk Who-ville, I suppose I’m here.” Arista said smiling. “I don’t watch it that often, but I might just have to watch it more often. Give me a heads up and I’ll watch an episode so we could discuss it. Anyway, we have to live up to our Ravenclaw debating stereotype.” She loved her heritage and her house and therefore, was proud of them. People who weren’t Ravenclaws didn’t understand – it was a way of life in a way.

"Yes, they don't live forever. As it is, I'm hoping 11 is good -- Tennant should be an interesting act to follow. Cheeky and cute and foxy as he was -- err, allegedly."

Arista chuckled, rolling her eyes. “It’s okay – you aren’t the first guy to admit Tennant was definitely good looking.” She teased time, gently pushing his arm. “He’s got so many fans. Although I don’t think I can forgive him for having his favorite book being The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. I hated that book.”

"I'm watching you, little lady."

“Hey! We don’t have to bring height into this!” She felt a twinge of self-consciousness. She had never been called little before. She had been a tall female growing up. But Artemius was so, so tall compared to her. “I’m not that short anyway.” She said, sticking her tongue out. “It’s not my fault that you are a tree.”


"Well, fear of Quidditch is one thing. But fear of flying?" That was seriously sad stuff. "That would take all the fun out of being a witch or wizard, don't you think? I mean, how are we to pick on the Muggles on Samhein without scooting about on our brooms, scaring the bejesus out of old ladies and their dogs?"

Arista laughed herself when he commented about scaring ladies out of their wits by flying by them. “I have no clue – but I think I just prefer flooing or apparating. When I fly I’m always afraid that I’m going to fall off. Don’t suppose you have any quick solutions to that do you?”

"That other place?" Artemius grinned. "Which is that? Hog's Head or summat?" He chuckled. "Are there still Sweeney Todds and Jack the Rippers about that I haven't heard about yet?"

“Oh definitely! Well, I don’t know who Sweeney Todd is, I mean, I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know how he killed or anything. But yes, there are still some of the likes around. The worst kind is the Dexters I suppose.”

Arista could tell that she was buttering him up a bit, but she didn’t mind. It was always nice to flirt a bit – especially with someone who could flirt back. “And what about you? Does your mum want you to marry some famous lycanthropologist? Although they might be a hard thing to find.”


He nodded, smiling. "I think that's very reassuring... to random Ravenclaw fellows... I suppose." He shrugged, not knowing how to answer that impersonally.


Artemius scoffed. "Well, you can't live in the UK and have that kind of opinion!" He grinned. "I think the problem is, YOU have not had a proper cuppa tea. And there is a method. See, Earl Grey is a black tea, but lots of lesser tea drinkers decide that they want their tea decaf, which ruins it. And because it's a black tea, if you stew it for longer than 3-5 minutes, it turns bitter, which is just plain unattractive, as well as irreversible. A perfect pot of tea is aromatic, warms the soul, and can cure any heartache at all," he says with a loving smile. "A nice hot cuppa tea will make your entire body warm with lush affection and happiness, but also give you that kick of caffeine to keep you up, should you drink enough of it. And, many are known to get an addiction to the stuff." Here he gestures modestly to himself. "Such as myself." He glances about and then looks to her. "I make you a deal. I get an education in Greek cuisine, and you get an education in fine teas. How is that?"

She smiled as she was told she needed a better tea education. “First off, I only accept this deal if you don’t say cuppa like I am somebody who had no idea what a mug is.” She said, pointing a finger. “And I should hope that I don’t need a cup of tea to cure heartache. But, I will try it again.” She said, repressing a shudder. “But you have to be there so you can see my face when I am totally disgusted yet again by the tea.”

"Is most of your family from around here, or Greece?" As they spoke, he tried very careful to eat his souvlaki without looking a pig -- it was a challenge he hoped he could overcome.

Arista was asked a question just as she had put something in her mouth so she chewed and swallowed before answering. “My mum’s family is scattered around the Commonwealth. My dad’s family is almost all in Greece. A few followed him to London, but yes, mostly in Greece.”

“I don’t watch it that often, but I might just have to watch it more often. Give me a heads up and I’ll watch an episode so we could discuss it. Anyway, we have to live up to our Ravenclaw debating stereotype.”

He chuckled. "Well, have you seen the Easter special yet?"

((watchdoctorwho.org - Planet of the Dead))

Arista chuckled, rolling her eyes. “It’s okay – you aren’t the first guy to admit Tennant was definitely good looking.” She teased him, gently pushing his arm.

"Well, then. I shall say that he is indeed, very cheeky, and almost like a Scottish Jim Carey, I think, though I'd've loved to have seem him play Hamlet. 'Tis a shame he wasn't at the Who Prom..." He shook his head. "That was very odd..."

“He’s got so many fans. Although I don’t think I can forgive him for having his favorite book being The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. I hated that book.”

He cocked his head at her. "Really? I haven't read it yet. It's on my bucket list, though. When that assignment came about for reading, I ended up taking Catch-22," he explained with a grin. "And that was bloody wonderful. I still crack up about Major Major sometimes."

“Hey! We don’t have to bring height into this!”

He chuckled. "Oi, have I found a soft spot, now?"

“I’m not that short anyway.” She said, sticking her tongue out. “It’s not my fault that you are a tree.”

Here he laughed again. "A tree?! Well, that's new! I've been told gargantuous and a mountain -- and a very tall clown, before, and in the strictest of voices by a young child, which was very hillarious -- but never a tree. I have to say, that's getting points for originality."

Arista laughed at the old ladies reference. “I have no clue – but I think I just prefer flooing or apparating. When I fly I’m always afraid that I’m going to fall off. Don’t suppose you have any quick solutions to that do you?”

"A couple sticking charms, yeah. Or a length of rope," he replied, grinning, partly joking. They were quick solutions...

“Oh definitely! Well, I don’t know who Sweeney Todd is, I mean, I’ve heard of him, but I don’t know how he killed or anything. But yes, there are still some of the likes around. The worst kind is the Dexters I suppose.”

He gaped. "You don't know Sweeney Todd? Ah, that's right, you say you're Greek. Nah, that's one of our oldest horror stories -- I remember being a little kid, and nasty old ladies would threaten us she'd sic him on us iffen we didn't behave. See, he was this mad chap back in the Victorian era -- demented barber would slice up his customers -- every third customer, actually, unless they had families -- and his land lady would chop them into bits and make meat pies out of them. Made a fortune, actually..." It was a very odd tale, and even more odd in that it was true.

“And what about you? Does your mum want you to marry some famous lycanthropologist? Although they might be a hard thing to find.”

"Oh, god no. Then she'd have to compete with her. Not only to be the lady in my life, but the formost expert on lycans? I'd much rather it not be so. An actual lycan, though, has been suggested -- for the longest time, my parents were convinced Aronel and I were to wed one day -- but, she wisened up and got a real boyfriend -- got married a couple years ago, ironically to another patient of my mother's." He smiled. "It was gorgeous, really, but I always thought of her as a sister rather than a lover, so I don't think that would have gone down very well." He chuckled. "Although I pranked her good for the wedding..."

She smiled as she was told she needed a better tea education. “First off, I only accept this deal if you don’t say cuppa like I am somebody who had no idea what a mug is.” She said, pointing a finger. “And I should hope that I don’t need a cup of tea to cure heartache. But, I will try it again.” She said, repressing a shudder. “But you have to be there so you can see my face when I am totally disgusted yet again by the tea.”

He laughed. "Spoiled by the coffee beans, are you? Most people don't drink it black, you know. Milk and sugar and creamer and all that, just like coffee. Tell you what -- we'll even have a whole tea party -- scones, finger sandwiches, fruits, whole bit. I'll even bring me mum so she can embarass the bejesus out of me with obscene baby pictures or something to overlook your abhorrent disregard for tea." He laughed.

“My mum’s family is scattered around the Commonwealth. My dad’s family is almost all in Greece. A few followed him to London, but yes, mostly in Greece.”

"So, do you speak a lot of the old fashioned Greek? Like, spelling 'u's as 'v's and all that? Or is that horridly wrong?" He grinned, hoping his humour would make up for his error.

He chuckled. "Well, have you seen the Easter special yet?"

“Yes. And didn’t you think it odd that everyone is wearing heavy coats and it’s supposedly Easter. And that girl – Catherine right – well, she was right in front of the police and they didn’t see her. So how did they know what she looked like? And what was the chocolate bit all about?” She said before she could control the impulse to just ask and ask and ask random questions.

"Well, then. I shall say that he is indeed, very cheeky, and almost like a Scottish Jim Carey, I think, though I'd've loved to have seem him play Hamlet. 'Tis a shame he wasn't at the Who Prom..." He shook his head. "That was very odd..."


“The Who Prom?” Arista asked uneasily. “The Who Prom… honestly?”


He cocked his head at her. "Really? I haven't read it yet. It's on my bucket list, though. When that assignment came about for reading, I ended up taking Catch-22," he explained with a grin. "And that was bloody wonderful. I still crack up about Major Major sometimes."

“What else is on your bucket list? Haggis, Catcher in the Rye?” She teased. She was a list-maker but she herself had never made a bucket list. It hadn’t ever seemed important to her. “As for me, I hated Catch-22. It was never funny to me. Merlin it was horrible. I got two hundred pages into it and had to stop. Horrible!” Arista said, shaking her head and taking another bite of her lamb.

“I suppose next you’re going to tell me you don’t like Wilde or Steinbeck. Or that you absolutely love Hemingway. And I am sorry to say, that if you are in love with Hemingway I might just have to get on a broom and fly away. Chauvinistic pig.” She muttered underneath her breath, looking up. “Oh, him not you I mean.”

"A tree?! Well, that's new! I've been told gargantuous and a mountain -- and a very tall clown, before, and in the strictest of voices by a young child, which was very hilarious -- but never a tree. I have to say, that's getting points for originality."

“So what’s my prize?” Arista asked, smiling. “I got points for saying you would make a good clock and now saying you are a tree – or tree-like. Maybe more Ent like since you can talk and walk and all that jazz.” She did wonder what her prize was. She wasn’t daft enough to think it had to be something monetary. But perhaps a walk to her flat after this would be nice. She knew that the date was going remarkably well but she also had absolutely no idea where it would go from there.


"A couple sticking charms, yeah. Or a length of rope,"

“Oh, so no holding on to me? I suppose a sticking charm does the same thing.”


He gaped. "You don't know Sweeney Todd? Ah, that's right, you say you're Greek. Nah, that's one of our oldest horror stories -- I remember being a little kid, and nasty old ladies would threaten us she'd sic him on us iffen we didn't behave. See, he was this mad chap back in the Victorian era -- demented barber would slice up his customers -- every third customer, actually, unless they had families -- and his land lady would chop them into bits and make meat pies out of them. Made a fortune, actually..." It was a very odd tale, and even more odd in that it was true.

Arista shuddered. “No way. I mean, we Greeks have some pretty nasty villains but never like him. Ugh.” She shuddered again, as if something was grabbing her and she was trying to shake it off.


"Oh, god no. Then she'd have to compete with her. Not only to be the lady in my life, but the formost expert on lycans? I'd much rather it not be so. An actual lycan, though, has been suggested -- for the longest time, my parents were convinced Aronel and I were to wed one day -- but, she wisened up and got a real boyfriend -- got married a couple years ago, ironically to another patient of my mother's." He smiled. "It was gorgeous, really, but I always thought of her as a sister rather than a lover, so I don't think that would have gone down very well." He chuckled. "Although I pranked her good for the wedding..."


“Merlin, if you prank me for my wedding…” Arista said, shaking her head. “But I’m glad that Aronel found a boyfriend and a husband. First off, it gives hope to the rest of us. And secondly, that means I can steal you without feeling the regret of stealing.”


He laughed. "Spoiled by the coffee beans, are you? Most people don't drink it black, you know. Milk and sugar and creamer and all that, just like coffee. Tell you what -- we'll even have a whole tea party -- scones, finger sandwiches, fruits, whole bit. I'll even bring me mum so she can embarass the bejesus out of me with obscene baby pictures or something to overlook your abhorrent disregard for tea." He laughed.

“Well then, I think I will have to accept! And does this mean you want to meet my mum as well?” She asked, laughing herself. “She has some quite embarrassing pictures of when my hair decided to have days of it’s own.”


"So, do you speak a lot of the old fashioned Greek? Like, spelling 'u's as 'v's and all that? Or is that horridly wrong?"

“No, almost nobody speaks old fashioned Greek anymore. I am fluent in modern Greek but people think I sound Russian when I speak so I haven’t spoken it in awhile. I can read it – the old fashioned kind I mean. My dad is very proud. He wanted us all to be proud as well.”

“Yes. And didn’t you think it odd that everyone is wearing heavy coats and it’s supposedly Easter. And that girl – Catherine right – well, she was right in front of the police and they didn’t see her. So how did they know what she looked like? And what was the chocolate bit all about?”

Artemius laughed. "It was a very odd choice of characters, to be sure, but I'm sure the writers are trying to make a point -- I think they're trying to drag out this solo-run fad of the Doctor's. And I think the chocolate bit was pretty funny: 'Want some? Know what? Finish it. It's bad for my teeth...' or summat." He chuckled. "I still don't get him. He's just plain strange, but he can be insanely entertaining, if completely random and absurd..."

“The Who Prom?” Arista asked uneasily. “The Who Prom… honestly?”

"Yeah... At the Promenades last year? Oh, right. British thing. See, apparently someone long ago decided that it was unwise of us to let our youth squander their summers, so they have these promenades -- classical music concerts, and the like -- throughout the summer. Last year they had the first every Doctor Who Prom -- it was classical music that fit with it -- the Ride of the Valkyries, and the Planets, for instance -- as well as some of the scores from the show. Most of the stars were there as hosts, and there was a small episode called "Music of the Spheres" near the end that broke the fourth wall which was rather fascinating, and the Royal Albert Hall was quite literally invaded by Sontarans and Cybermen and Daleks, and the like," he explained with a grin. "Unfortunately, David Tennant had a show on stage at the time, but he calls Freema Agyeman -- you know, Martha -- during the second half and sends his love. To be honest, I didn't get to go meself, but I did manage to get a copy of it, and the video's on YouTube, so I get a very cheapened version of it -- Nearly missed it, actually. I heard about it six days after it happened, so I almost didn't get to catch the credits for it on BBC Radio - they had the Proms on there, you see - but I have it somewhere... I think. Actually, I think I might have. I don't think I have it anymore." Well, that was depressing. It'd been rather tricky finding that...

“What else is on your bucket list? Haggis, Catcher in the Rye?” She teased.

"Parrothead's Pilgrimage: seeing Jimmy Buffett in concert; erm... huge list of literature and movies... and music, for that matter... My Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and Joni Mitchell are sadly lacking..." But then, he realised he was jabbering and grinned. "That kind of nonsense. Playing Pachinko in Tokyo's on the list, too, and seeing something at the Sydney Opera House. Learning how to make creme brulee and sesame chicken, as well." He chuckled. "Randomness of that kind."

“As for me, I hated Catch-22. It was never funny to me. Merlin it was horrible. I got two hundred pages into it and had to stop. Horrible!” Arista said, shaking her head and taking another bite of her lamb.

"Aw... Well, that might explain a bit. Does the irony not amuse you?" He smirked. "We Brits absolutely adore our dry humour and irony. Next I hear you're going to call off Monty Python and Eddie Izzard, and I'll have to be very upset."

“I suppose next you’re going to tell me you don’t like Wilde or Steinbeck. Or that you absolutely love Hemingway. And I am sorry to say, that if you are in love with Hemingway I might just have to get on a broom and fly away. Chauvinistic pig.” She muttered underneath her breath, looking up. “Oh, him not you I mean.”

He laughed. "I'm not quite familiar with Hemingway, to be honest. I did enjoy Oscar Wilde, though. Bit surprised when I found out he had a male lover, but I really oughtn't be, by now. Turns out all the really brilliant folks out there have some really horrid skeleton in their closet -- not as in dead people, but as in, a very genuine sign of their eccentricity. Einstein's hair. Churchill being a horrid drunk, etc.. I mean, I know I do, too, but that's a secret," he teased, grinning, tapping a finger to his nose in a Father Christmas fashion.

“So what’s my prize?” Arista asked, smiling. “I got points for saying you would make a good clock and now saying you are a tree – or tree-like. Maybe more Ent-like since you can talk and walk and all that jazz.”

He laughed. "A girl who uses 'Ent-like'! Fascinating! Tell me, how are you single, love?"

“Oh, so no holding on to me? I suppose a sticking charm does the same thing.” [b]

Artemius' eyebrows disappeared in his hair. "Oh, I'm flying with you, am I? Well, in that case, you really needn't worry at all. Forget gravity -- you'll be whizzing about so quick, gravity wouldn't be able to pull you down if it wanted to. We'd be gone in a flash!" he said, gesturing majestically. "I could show you the world - shining, shimmering, splendid," he said, grinning now. "With unbelieveable sights! Indescribeable feeling! Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky!"

[b]“Merlin, if you prank me for my wedding…” Arista said, shaking her head. “But I’m glad that Aronel found a boyfriend and a husband. First off, it gives hope to the rest of us. And secondly, that means I can steal you without feeling the regret of stealing.”

"Well." Artemius grinned. "If I can't prank your wedding, I will have to find something useful to do with myself, should I merit an invitation." Goodness gracious. This was a first date. How did they get on the topic of weddings? Oh, yeah. That was him. He really ought to stop talking, he was sure, grinning.

“Well then, I think I will have to accept! And does this mean you want to meet my mum as well?” She asked, laughing herself. “She has some quite embarrassing pictures of when my hair decided to have days of it’s own.”

Artemius grimaced. "On second thought, I suppose a tea party can wait a bit..." He nodded. "Although blackmail is always something I keep an eye out for in any given situation," he added with a wink.

“No, almost nobody speaks old fashioned Greek anymore. I am fluent in modern Greek but people think I sound Russian when I speak so I haven’t spoken it in awhile. I can read it – the old fashioned kind I mean. My dad is very proud. He wanted us all to be proud as well.”

"That's really neat. I mean, having a legacy and a history like that is always really great. I mean, I know Welsh, but it's pretty useless outside of Wales," he laughed. "Makes for fun inscriptions - and I picked up some Gaelic from old Irish shanties and the like my dad taught me. Also rather useless these days." He grinned.

Artemius laughed. "It was a very odd choice of characters, to be sure, but I'm sure the writers are trying to make a point -- I think they're trying to drag out this solo-run fad of the Doctor's. And I think the chocolate bit was pretty funny: 'Want some? Know what? Finish it. It's bad for my teeth...' or summat." He chuckled. "I still don't get him. He's just plain strange, but he can be insanely entertaining, if completely random and absurd..."

“But honestly, does the Doctor really need to worry about his teeth? I mean… I know there’s not aspirin in toothpaste, but there is in acne gel, so thank goodness the Doctor didn’t decide to get acne.” She covered her mouth uneasily. “I’m babbling.” She finally said, embarrassed. It wasn’t like her to babble so admitting it was even more embarrassing. So to calm her blushing cheeks she put another forkful of her dish in her mouth. It was hotter than she was expecting so her eyes watered a bit before it cooled down and she was finally allowed to chew. While she ate she listened to his description of the Who Prom.

"Yeah... At the Promenades last year? Oh, right. British thing. See, apparently someone long ago decided that it was unwise of us to let our youth squander their summers, so they have these promenades -- classical music concerts, and the like -- throughout the summer. Last year they had the first every Doctor Who Prom -- it was classical music that fit with it -- the Ride of the Valkyries, and the Planets, for instance -- as well as some of the scores from the show. Most of the stars were there as hosts, and there was a small episode called "Music of the Spheres" near the end that broke the fourth wall which was rather fascinating, and the Royal Albert Hall was quite literally invaded by Sontarans and Cybermen and Daleks, and the like," he explained with a grin. "Unfortunately, David Tennant had a show on stage at the time, but he calls Freema Agyeman -- you know, Martha -- during the second half and sends his love. To be honest, I didn't get to go meself, but I did manage to get a copy of it, and the video's on YouTube, so I get a very cheapened version of it -- Nearly missed it, actually. I heard about it six days after it happened, so I almost didn't get to catch the credits for it on BBC Radio - they had the Proms on there, you see - but I have it somewhere... I think. Actually, I think I might have. I don't think I have it anymore." Well, that was depressing. It'd been rather tricky finding that...

“For the record, I’ve been living in England all my life… secondly, it sounds interesting. I would have loved to seen it. I’m sure I could do some detective work and find it if you want. I have so many odd resources at my disposal it wouldn’t be that difficult to do find, at least, I don’t think it would.”

"Parrothead's Pilgrimage: seeing Jimmy Buffett in concert; erm... huge list of literature and movies... and music, for that matter... My Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and Joni Mitchell are sadly lacking..." "That kind of nonsense. Playing Pachinko in Tokyo's on the list, too, and seeing something at the Sydney Opera House. Learning how to make creme brulee and sesame chicken, as well." He chuckled. "Randomness of that kind."
“Haven’t heard of Parrothead’s Pilgrimage, but I suppose there’s always something new. For me… I’ve never made a list, but I would have to say finally reading Lady Susan, going to Japan and finding someone who makes me ridiculously happy. Of course, if I actually sat down to think about it, the list would be much longer.”

"Aw... Well, that might explain a bit. Does the irony not amuse you?" He smirked. "We Brits absolutely adore our dry humour and irony. Next I hear you're going to call off Monty Python and Eddie Izzard, and I'll have to be very upset."

“I’ve never seen Eddie Izzard, but I did adore Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It had a dirty mind though. I love humor but I prefer it to be sarcastic – The Mentalist, occasionally House, that kind of stuff.”

He laughed. "I'm not quite familiar with Hemingway, to be honest. I did enjoy Oscar Wilde, though. Bit surprised when I found out he had a male lover, but I really oughtn't be, by now. Turns out all the really brilliant folks out there have some really horrid skeleton in their closet -- not as in dead people, but as in, a very genuine sign of their eccentricity. Einstein's hair. Churchill being a horrid drunk, etc.. I mean, I know I do, too, but that's a secret," he teased, grinning, tapping a finger to his nose in a Father Christmas fashion.

“Good – because Hemingway is my version of literary death. I can’t stand him! As for Wilde… I didn’t think much about it.” She shrugged. “So we all have skeletons… what’s yours?” She knew he wouldn’t tell but she wanted to tempt him into maybe telling what his secret was. Arista thought about what her skeleton would be – and she came up short, unless it was her way of writing. Yes, maybe that was it.

He laughed. "A girl who uses 'Ent-like'! Fascinating! Tell me, how are you single, love?"

Arista chuckled. “Well, as of…” She checked her watch, smiling still, “about two hours ago I don’t think I was still single. But if you must know – people think I’m too eccentric and yet bookish. I read like crazy and have an odd style of writing.” She shrugged, still smiling. “Oh well. Δεν βρέθηκαν λέξεις.” She said, slipping into Greek for a short moment without even realizing it.

Artemius' eyebrows disappeared in his hair. "Oh, I'm flying with you, am I? Well, in that case, you really needn't worry at all. Forget gravity -- you'll be whizzing about so quick, gravity wouldn't be able to pull you down if it wanted to. We'd be gone in a flash!" he said, gesturing majestically. "I could show you the world - shining, shimmering, splendid," he said, grinning now. "With unbelieveable sights! Indescribeable feeling! Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky!"
“Why are you quoting Aladdin?” Arista asked with a giggle. “Last time I checked I wasn’t Jasmine and we didn’t have a magic carpet. But if that’s your skeleton, I suppose I just got you to confess didn’t I?” She looked slightly pleased with herself for thinking of the idea.

“Aww, no wanting to meet my mum?” She teased. “But we could do the tea party without your mum as well, although I would absolutely love to meet her and pick apart her brain – figuratively of course.”

"That's really neat. I mean, having a legacy and a history like that is always really great. I mean, I know Welsh, but it's pretty useless outside of Wales," he laughed. "Makes for fun inscriptions - and I picked up some Gaelic from old Irish shanties and the like my dad taught me. Also rather useless these days." He grinned.

“Welsh always looked gorgeous to me. But I’ll stick to Greek and English.” Arista heard a crash and looked up quickly. Someone had started the plate smashing. She stood up, and indicated over to where they were smashing. “Want to?”

“But honestly, does the Doctor really need to worry about his teeth? I mean… I know there’s not aspirin in toothpaste, but there is in acne gel, so thank goodness the Doctor didn’t decide to get acne.” She covered her mouth uneasily. “I’m babbling.”

He chuckled. "It's fine. I'll still love ya," he winked.

"When I say Parrothead, it means Jimmy Buffett fan. I'm told any real Parrothead worth his salt has gone to see him perform at least once, although I hear it's an experience best repeated."

“I’ve never seen Eddie Izzard, but I did adore Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It had a dirty mind though. I love humor but I prefer it to be sarcastic – The Mentalist, occasionally House, that kind of stuff.”

"Ah, yes. Gregory House. He's a real charmer, that one," he remarked with a grin.

She shrugged. “So we all have skeletons… what’s yours?”

"Like I would just tell you?" he asked, smiling. Well, at least she was forward.

"People think I’m too eccentric and yet bookish. I read like crazy and have an odd style of writing.” She shrugged, still smiling. “Oh well. Δεν βρέθηκαν λέξεις.” She said, slipping into Greek for a short moment without even realizing it.

He cocked his head curiously. "What does that mean?"

“Why are you quoting Aladdin?” Arista asked with a giggle. “Last time I checked I wasn’t Jasmine and we didn’t have a magic carpet."

He grinned. "Sorry. I have a head for quotes. The first bit came out and, quite honestly, I couldn't help myself."

"But if that’s your skeleton, I suppose I just got you to confess didn’t I?” She looked slightly pleased with herself for thinking of the idea.

"Ohoho! You wish it were that simple. Nah, my skeleton is something a bit more fearsome - loved by some, feared by others, it's as old as time itself, and yet, a very modern thing." He beamed. He was a tricky one, he knew it. He did it on purpose.

“Aww, no wanting to meet my mum?” She teased. “But we could do the tea party without your mum as well, although I would absolutely love to meet her and pick apart her brain – figuratively of course.”

"Oh, of course," he echoed, nodding. "I honestly don't believe you," he teased.

“Welsh always looked gorgeous to me. But I’ll stick to Greek and English.” Arista heard a crash and looked up quickly. Someone had started the plate smashing. She stood up, and indicated over to where they were smashing. “Want to?”

He chuckled. "Is there an open invitation? Or do you get away with it because you are Greek and come here often?"

He chuckled. "It's fine. I'll still love ya," he winked.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Arista said with a slight grin. It was always interesting to know things that somebody could stand about the other person. For Artemius, it was her babbling and her bookish nature. And while she hadn’t found an odd quality quite yet about Artemius, she was pretty sure she was going to accept it – even if he did have weird tastes in books.

"When I say Parrothead, it means Jimmy Buffett fan. I'm told any real Parrothead worth his salt has gone to see him perform at least once, although I hear it's an experience best repeated."
“Don’t you think it’s weird that we keep talking about Muggle experiences? Like wasting away in Margaritaville really happens in our world…” She said sarcastically before stopping herself. Maybe something like that did exist.

"Ah, yes. Gregory House. He's a real charmer, that one," he remarked with a grin.

“Don’t knock Gregory House – he and some imported Ben and Jerry’s have gotten me through exams and at least two break-ups.” She eyed him carefully. “Now you aren’t going to make me order some ahead of time are you?”

"Like I would just tell you?" he asked, smiling.

“Aww,” She whimpered. “I thought we were such good friends that I would be able to get you to say everything without even using Veritaserum.” She said, sarcastically cooing. “Apparently I was wrong.”

He cocked his head curiously. "What does that mean?"

“Oh right… it’s Greek for ‘That’s life.’ Or c’est la vie.” Her tongue rolled over the foreign words so easily, like it wasn’t even a challenge. Arista had come to figure out that once you knew one foreign language, saying a few words in another came easy, or at least easier than somebody who knew only one language. Was that un-lingual?

He grinned. "Sorry. I have a head for quotes. The first bit came out and, quite honestly, I couldn't help myself."
“Well then… I suppose it’s a quirk. I love quotes myself but I prefer literary quotes. Although my favorite is still from Winston Churchill – ‘I may be drunk madam but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.’ Harsh, but often times true.”

"Ohoho! You wish it were that simple. Nah, my skeleton is something a bit more fearsome - loved by some, feared by others, it's as old as time itself, and yet, a very modern thing." He beamed.

“Bad breath?” She teased.

"Oh, of course," he echoed, nodding. "I honestly don't believe you," he teased.

“Yes you do.” She said, smiling again. “Because you are proud of your mummy and you like me. Somehow the two add up to trusting me. Don’t ask me how… I never have been good at math.”

He chuckled. "Is there an open invitation? Or do you get away with it because you are Greek and come here often?"

“Generally there’s an open invitation but they frown upon people who don’t know how to smash properly. And if you smash wrong you have to take a shot – it’s a twist. So mind you, you might end up slightly wasted by the end of the night.” She grinned slyly. “I’m a tricky fox am I not?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we keep talking about Muggle experiences? Like wasting away in Margaritaville really happens in our world…” She said sarcastically before stopping herself. Maybe something like that did exist.

Artemius grinned. "Say what you will. But I will reply that the islands of Puerto Rico are very gorgeous, and so is Nevarre Beach in Florida. My love for white, sandy beaches and Jimmy Buffett is not unfounded." His face got a bit more serious. "As for the Muggle stuff, the truth is, I was raised very Muggle -- with my mother's occupation, we're kind of frowned upon in Wizarding society. Provided they don't know what's going on, the Muggles are much more accepting about our presence there." He grimaced. "Contradictory as that may be..."

“Don’t knock Gregory House – he and some imported Ben and Jerry’s have gotten me through exams and at least two break-ups.” She eyed him carefully. “Now you aren’t going to make me order some ahead of time are you?”

He chuckled. "Nonsense. The grin means I approve. A dark hero for sure, that one. I think the sort of love triangle, or manipulation triangle, whatever you call it, between him and Wilson and Cuddy is insanely amusing. They always keep me guessing." He grinned. "Although the bit about CB being just like dating House was pretty funny. Made the season finale hit home pretty bad. And honestly, whoever wrote that bus episode deserves an award, I'm sure of it!"

“Aww,” She whimpered. “I thought we were such good friends that I would be able to get you to say everything without even using Veritaserum.” She said, sarcastically cooing. “Apparently I was wrong.”

He laughed. "Nah. Veritaserum isn't necessary, but observation and attention is. In fact, if you pay enough attention, you might be able to figure it out by yourself -- though I sincerely doubt it, obscure and odd as it is..."

“Oh right… it’s Greek for ‘That’s life.’ Or c’est la vie.”

Monolingual. "Ah. Yes, 'c'est la vie' is a favourite of mine. Personally, Italian has a bit of a soft spot in my heart," he confessed, putting a hand over his heart. "I'd like to learn more of it, but I do know quite a few sayings in varying languages -- French, lots of Spanish, and even a little Japanese and German. I can count to three in five different languages," he laughed. "To ten in three. Beyond that in two."

“Well then… I suppose it’s a quirk. I love quotes myself but I prefer literary quotes. Although my favorite is still from Winston Churchill – ‘I may be drunk madam but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.’ Harsh, but often times true.”

He chuckled. "That is an excellent quote. I'm not picky with where I get my material. Songs, books, movies, TV shows -- heck, even a comic or three. And some of them are so closely entwined with certain keywords that they ALWAYS pop into my head. Like, there's one, from an old movie called The Last Unicorn, where the woman is trying to get the cat to tell her where the secret passage is, and he's being tricksy. She says, 'Why must you always speak in rhyme?!', and the cat, who is peg-legged and has an eyepatch," he explained with a chuckle, "replies, 'But I yam what I yam, miss, and what I yam is a cat. And no cat ever gave anybody a straight answer. Yarr!' And I swear, every time I hear a pirate go "Yarr!" I think of that same line, no lie!"

“Bad breath?” She teased.

He laughed. "No, I'm far too fond of peppermint for that."

“Yes you do.” She said, smiling again. “Because you are proud of your mummy and you like me. Somehow the two add up to trusting me. Don’t ask me how… I never have been good at math.”

He chuckled. "And I'm supposed to take your word for that?"

“Generally there’s an open invitation but they frown upon people who don’t know how to smash properly. And if you smash wrong you have to take a shot – it’s a twist. So mind you, you might end up slightly wasted by the end of the night.” She grinned slyly. “I’m a tricky fox am I not?”

"Well, if that was your goal all along there are easier ways of doing things, y'know." He smirked. She was a tricksy one indeed. "So... This technique for smashing plates. You think I'm incapable of learning it, or is it truly that difficult? Or do you just want me smashed? Hmm?" Getting buggered might not be a good idea, as he did have to work tonight -- at eleven. "Actually... Do you have the time? I'm afraid I can't stay out all night." He really ought to have a clock on him, but he didn't. He'd never managed to get into the habit to carry a timepiece about. The only ones he'd ever owned were heirlooms he didn't trust himself to take out in public.

Artemius grinned. "Say what you will. But I will reply that the islands of Puerto Rico are very gorgeous, and so is Nevarre Beach in Florida. My love for white, sandy beaches and Jimmy Buffett is not unfounded." His face got a bit more serious. "As for the Muggle stuff, the truth is, I was raised very Muggle -- with my mother's occupation, we're kind of frowned upon in Wizarding society. Provided they don't know what's going on, the Muggles are much more accepting about our presence there." He grimaced. "Contradictory as that may be..."

“My parents are both half-blood but they thought that I needed some Muggle education that was halfway decent.” She thought of a question that made her eyes go wide. “Not that I care about status, but what status would two Muggle-borns be? I mean, if they had children would they be half-blood or Muggle-borns?” She had never thought of it before and it was curious to her that she never had before. But then again, blood status had never been important to her. She liked being a half-blood but if she were a Muggle-born she wouldn’t have minded probably just as she would not have cared if she were a Pureblood. Although… Arista would have loved to do the whole society thing. The big poofy dresses and heels and amazing conversations – but part of that, she supposed was over-thought and over-worked.

He chuckled. "Nonsense. The grin means I approve. A dark hero for sure, that one. I think the sort of love triangle, or manipulation triangle, whatever you call it, between him and Wilson and Cuddy is insanely amusing. They always keep me guessing." He grinned. "Although the bit about CB being just like dating House was pretty funny. Made the season finale hit home pretty bad. And honestly, whoever wrote that bus episode deserves an award, I'm sure of it!"

“Well, CB did seem like a House character. And I’m glad you approve of House.” She said grinning. “But you never mentioned the ice cream. It’s absolutely delicious and I love it but I’ve told myself I can only order it when I have a bad breakup. So I’m hoping that I won’t have to order any. But I think you’re too nice to make me wallow in ice cream.”

"Ah. Yes, 'c'est la vie' is a favourite of mine. Personally, Italian has a bit of a soft spot in my heart," he confessed, putting a hand over his heart. "I'd like to learn more of it, but I do know quite a few sayings in varying languages -- French, lots of Spanish, and even a little Japanese and German. I can count to three in five different languages," he laughed. "To ten in three. Beyond that in two."

“I never thought it was important to learn how to count in anything other than English and Greek so I only know those. And isn’t c’est la vie, isn’t that French, not Italian?” She pondered, trying to remember why she thought it was French and not Italian, but of course, right when she needed the useless information, it failed her.

He chuckled. "That is an excellent quote. I'm not picky with where I get my material. Songs, books, movies, TV shows -- heck, even a comic or three. And some of them are so closely entwined with certain keywords that they ALWAYS pop into my head. Like, there's one, from an old movie called The Last Unicorn, where the woman is trying to get the cat to tell her where the secret passage is, and he's being tricksy. She says, 'Why must you always speak in rhyme?!', and the cat, who is peg-legged and has an eyepatch," he explained with a chuckle, "replies, 'But I yam what I yam, miss, and what I yam is a cat. And no cat ever gave anybody a straight answer. Yarr!' And I swear, every time I hear a pirate go "Yarr!" I think of that same line, no lie!"

“Oh dear merlin.” And that was all Arista could say. But then she found herself and before she started laughing, she managed to tell a story of her own quotes. “I have a book – a normal marble composition book – with fun quotes or quotes I loved from famous people or just random conversations. I wish I had the time to go through the two or three volumes and rewrite them all by category but it’s kind of a large project for at work during downtime.”

He chuckled. "And I'm supposed to take your word for that?"

“Yes, because I am very reliable, trustworthy and… datable?” She asked, questioning her own answer. “And I would never lie.” This was said with a slight smirk so she knew that he probably wouldn’t trust her anyway.

"Well, if that was your goal all along there are easier ways of doing things, y'know." He smirked. She was a tricksy one indeed. "So... This technique for smashing plates. You think I'm incapable of learning it, or is it truly that difficult? Or do you just want me smashed? Hmm?" Getting buggered might not be a good idea, as he did have to work tonight -- at eleven. "Actually... Do you have the time? I'm afraid I can't stay out all night."

“I think you are capable, I just maybe wanted to see you get smashed,” She said smiling with a certain glint in her eye that told herself, in not him, that she wanted to learn something and she thought that she would only learn something if she got him smashed. Of course, she had done the smashed thing before to see if a guy really liked her, but she wasn’t going to be that cruel. In fact, she couldn’t ever believe that she was that cruel. Although that one guy… after the like twelfth date and she decided to get him all drunk, she was very happy she did. “Anyway, that’s not important. If you need to get back to… I’m assuming guard duty, then I will try to get you back on time. But first,” Arista said standing up and taking him by the hand, we are going to smash some plates.”

She walked over to the area, making sure to avoid broken china, and took a plate. “You kind of have to smash at an angle – it prevents the pieces from flying up – or so they say.” She showed him as an example and then grabbed a large stack, splitting the plates between them. “Ready?”

“My parents are both half-blood but they thought that I needed some Muggle education that was halfway decent.”

"Completely understandable. The Muggle education in the Wizarding world is atrocious," he replied with a laugh.

“Not that I care about status, but what status would two Muggle-borns be? I mean, if they had children would they be half-blood or Muggle-borns?”

He chuckled. "That's a good question. But I suppose it depends on your definition in terms of blood. Personally, I'm not a Purist myself. If we were all purists, we'd end up like the monarchy: haughty, full of ourselves, and completely inbred. I take the term as whether you come from two magic parents, two Muggle parents, or one each. In which case, even if they're Muggleborn, they're both wizards, which makes you pureblood. At least, that's how I see things," he answered. And it was honestly the way he saw things. The debate about ancestry was ridiculous. It should only matter in regard to the way in which you were raised. And that didn't go back very far.

“But you never mentioned the ice cream. It’s absolutely delicious and I love it but I’ve told myself I can only order it when I have a bad breakup. So I’m hoping that I won’t have to order any. But I think you’re too nice to make me wallow in ice cream.”

"Oh, that's poppycock! Much as I hate to break someone's long-loved tradition, that is one I feel no shame in breaking. You, me, Fortescue's! Next Friday, when we get off work. You are doing yourself a severe injustice by limiting your ice cream intake like that. What if you REALLY want some ice cream, and then you have to dump a perfectly wonderful fellow, just so you can eat it? It's a bit shabby of a prospect, really." He gave her a grin. He'd personally hate to be dumped for ice cream. Or feel depressed about NOT getting ice cream because he had a wonderful girl he wouldn't trade for the world. It was an unfair rule. "I mean, you're having a wonderful time, maybe shopping for an aniversary dinner, and then you walk by the frozen food section, and you see that tub of creamy goodness, and you can't eat it. It'd be very depressing!"

“I never thought it was important to learn how to count in anything other than English and Greek so I only know those. And isn’t c’est la vie, isn’t that French, not Italian?”

"Yes, it is. I'm just saying, though. In case you want to learn Italian," he added with a wink. He was always trying to find someone who knew Italian. Partly so he could listen and indulge in their speech, and partly so they can teach him something. But mostly so he could listen.

“Oh dear merlin.” And that was all Arista could say. But then she found herself and before she started laughing, she managed to tell a story of her own quotes. “I have a book – a normal marble composition book – with fun quotes or quotes I loved from famous people or just random conversations. I wish I had the time to go through the two or three volumes and rewrite them all by category but it’s kind of a large project for at work during downtime.”

"Oh, I love stuff like that. I've tried to start one a few times, but I'm horrid with that kind of thing. But one of my friends did it once, and it's always great for a laugh if you're completely bored -- the random conversations are some of the best."

“Yes, because I am very reliable, trustworthy and… datable?” She asked, questioning her own answer. “And I would never lie.” This was said with a slight smirk so she knew that he probably wouldn’t trust her anyway.

"You would never lie? Well. Can't expect much sarcasm from you, then. Me? I cannot claim as such," he replied with a grin. "I'm not dishonest, in general, but if there are gifts or sarcasm involved -- or even a grin. Look for the grin. If I'm grinning or smirking, odds are I'm being dishonest. But it's usually for a reason. Nomally I'm a lovely person," he chuckled. It was the truth at the very least.

“I think you are capable, I just maybe wanted to see you get smashed,” she replied. “Anyway, that’s not important. If you need to get back to… I’m assuming guard duty, then I will try to get you back on time. But first,” Arista said standing up and taking him by the hand, "We are going to smash some plates.”

"Oh, okay," he replied, hoping he had the time. It would be a shame to ruin his punctual reputation, but if anything was worth it, it would be smashing plates with this wonderful Greek girl that he had only just met.

She walked over to the area, making sure to avoid broken china, and took a plate. “You kind of have to smash at an angle – it prevents the pieces from flying up – or so they say.” She showed him as an example and then grabbed a large stack, splitting the plates between them. “Ready?”

He laughed. "Why the hell not?" His first one didn't come out so well, but he eventually got the hang of it.