I could have...

[miles_caliga]

Precisely at seven, Miles found himself outside a large home, knocking on the door. The entire situation was a bit surreal. It had been ages since he’d gone on a date at all, and he couldn’t even recall the last time a woman had initiated a romantic evening.

Just the same, Regan had been good company when they’d spent time together in Italy, and she was a very pretty young lady. That she was a friend of Reese’s was a little odd, but his fey friend was engaged. She wasn’t in love with him and he needed to move on. Who knew where this new path might take him?

Eternally grateful for Gwen’s decision to take Tess, and therefore Jonathan, out for ice cream after their supper, Regan bolted down the stairs from her bedroom, shoes in hand, calling unnecessarily for Dorus, who appeared in front of her on the landing.

“Missy’s guest has just knocked,” the elf informed her, forestalling the expected panic over time. “Missy has time to wear shoes before greeting him.”

Drawing a calming breath, Regan nodded and followed the suggestion, quite used to Dorus’ intervention after twenty years of life with the nanny-like creature. She touched her hair to be sure it had not escaped unduly from its lightly-curled chignon, and walked more sedately to the door, acquiring her wand from the hall table in the process.

With a smile that she hoped would appear more confident than she felt, she tugged the heavy door open and greeted brightly, “Good evening, Miles.”

“Good evening, Regan,” he returned with a grin. Casting a glance further into the house, Miles didn’t notice any parental figures lurking nearby, only a wizened house elf giving him a thorough, if unobtrusive once-over. “Are you ready to go or do we need to wait for my inquisitors?”

“Ready,” she assured, stowing her wand in her hair and waving quickly to Dorus. “I imagine I shall owe Gwen an interminable number of favors, as she is, after all, Slytherin, but the rest of the household is away for at least the next quarter hour.”

Miles cut quite a dashing figure in his three-piece suit, and the butterflies which had been quelled momentarily by Dorus’ typical lack of nonsense were stirred into high gear by his smile. She had obviously been insane when thinking that she had enough presence to manage a date with someone she barely knew. A handsome someone, who had no doubt met many clever girls and was fond of Reese, who was far sweeter and kinder than Regan would ever manage.

“No inquisition, at least until we return,” she offered hesitantly, cursing the heat rising in her cheeks.

Offering his arm, Miles nodded to the hovering elf before focusing his attention back on his companion for the evening. Regan’s hair was pulled up elegantly and she wore a black dress with a drop waist and pleated skirt that fell an inch or two above her knees. The entire package was pleasing and he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view as Regan’s hand curled around his forearm. It wasn’t until her face turned up to his expectantly that Miles settled on the most striking thing about Regan. The round green eyes that met his, clear and bright, hid very little. It was the same sort of openness that Reese had, although he imagined Regan tried to contain it as best she could whereas Reese hardly knew how to attempt such a thing.

“You look lovely, but I suppose I shouldn’t stand here staring all evening. We’ve reservations to get to.”

Also, I might combust from mortification. “Thank you,” Regan managed, dropping her gaze from his as she blushed hotter, wishing for an iota of Gwen’s poise.

“You’re awfully debonair this evening yourself,” she added, rather charmed that he was the type to wear a vest, at least on occasion. It lent an air of the old world, highly appropriate to their plan for the outing, or the part that she knew about. “Might I enquire as to our destination, then?”

“You’re very kind. We’re going to Le Gavroche. It’s a favorite of mine, but I generally save it for special occasions. One of those things that’s enhanced because of its rareness.” With a quick survey of the area, he pulled his wand from the inside of his jacket. “Hold tight,” he said before Apparating them to London.

They arrived in a discreet alcove set aside for wizarding clientele, and Miles shifted to place a hand at the base of Regan’s spine, guiding her through the short hall to the maitre d’. It was only a few moments later that they were seated. After helping Regan into the plush curve of the green booth, he settled to her right. It was intimate enough to allow conversations to remain fairly private, but afforded a view of the dining room that Miles favored.

“I hope you don’t mind that I requested a booth rather than a table. I like to see who’s approaching. The thing about legal work is that there’s always someone on the opposing side who’s not very happy with me.”

Her brow rising sharply at his implication, Regan shook her head, assuring, “Not at all. Most of the people in my life are Slytherins, and have a similar preference for one reason or another; Gwen to avoid the paparazzi, Jonathan as an Auror, and I suppose Tristan simply because he’s always looked after me.”

She’d appreciated the grounding effect of Miles’ taking charge when they arrived; while the mild heat of his hand at her back was no help for the butterflies, it did remove the need for her to direct their motion or interaction, which made her more anxious than any number of casual touches or boyish grins. She knew her place so long as he accepted the authority in their exchange, and her uncharacteristic forwardness in inviting him out had greatly shaken her perspective.

“I suppose you try a great many cases that might result in people being unhappy,” Regan allowed, “Though I cannot quite fathom them taking it so personally unless you’re very different in court.”

“Well, there’s a certain amount of formality in the courtroom of course - moreso than is typical in my everyday life - but people don’t take legal action unless they feel strongly about something. The occasional resentment I run into is a product of that passion rather than me personally, or so I like to assume.”

The waiter came and Miles took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine. The crisp white would pair well with most anything they ate and he suspected Regan was not the sort to think him heavy-handed for selecting their beverage. After the rest of their order had been taken, he looked at her curiously.

“Tristan Bole. I should have put that together earlier. I was a year behind him at Hogwarts. I recall the many and varied members of your chosen family being mentioned at the beach, but just who are Gwen and Jonathan to you?”

Amused by his apparent slip in observation, Regan smiled a bit cheekily, nodding at Miles’ mention of school. “I know,” she returned, “he mentioned you, and you came to a party once with your parents, at Ivy’s Run.”

Slightly torn over how much information it was pertinent to share, given that he’d asked directly, she explained, cautiously, “Gwen would have been my sister-in-law, if... some things had gone differently several years ago. I consider her my family, regardless, and Jonathan is her... partner. They’ve been lovers for quite a while and have both adopted Tess; I imagine they’ll marry someday.”

It was, frankly, rather more than most people knew, and she bit her lip over how strange it would likely seem to someone not of it. Much as she loved her brother, she’d gathered what family she could in his absence, and they were nearly as much hers, now, as he was. The thought brought a fingertip to the small scar above her eye; unconscious at the memory of his terrible struggle with himself.

There was clearly more to the story, but it wasn’t his place to pry. They were just beginning to get to know one another and the thoughtful silence Regan fell into after she’d finished speaking indicated the details were not easily shared.

What she had told him was beginning to piece together in his mind, however. It had been common knowledge both in the the public eye and among those with whom he’d had private dealings that Tristan Bole and Gwen Jones had appeared to be headed for the altar several years ago. The details of their parting remained a mystery though. It appeared to have been a sudden break, and to Miles’ knowledge Tristan had not been in the public eye since, and Gwen had moved on to Jonathan...

“Savage,” he said aloud as the last piece fell into place. He hadn’t entirely forgiven the man for not doing more when Reese was abducted. Logically he knew it was a bureaucracy issue and not a personal one, but just as he’d explained about the negative feelings that transferred to him in legal cases, Miles’ own distress over what had happened tended to override his logical side. “I’ve had some dealings with him as well, and I’ve met your Gwen a time or two. My sister idolized her when she was in school. It really is a small world.”

“The world is vast,” Regan countered matter-of-factly. “The wizarding subset of the British population, and that of the rest of Europe, however, is fairly small, and given that eighty percent or better of said subset attends the same five or so schools, most wizards in Europe are reasonably likely to have some sort of tie a far larger cross-section of the whole than is probable for, say, the human population of even just the British Isles.”

Watching Miles’ eyes widen as she spoke, giving a fair imitation of a statistics text she’d once read, Regan smirked, adding, “Also, all Slytherins know, or at least know of, nearly all other Slytherins. It seems hazardous to one’s longevity to not be aware of the potential dangers or allies in the Serpent’s Den.”

When the sommelier returned with their wine, she waited until Miles drank before sipping from her own glass. “Gwen is somewhat difficult not to idolize, particularly to anyone remotely interested in her profession, I’d suppose. I would deduce from your phrasing that your ‘dealings’ with Jonathan were somewhat less than genial... and while it was not so very long ago that I might have said his surname is highly indicative of his disposition, I’ve actually grown quite fond of him in the past year.”

Miles had the good grace to look sheepish and he took a sip of his wine before addressing Regan’s observation. “As I mentioned, legal situations tend toward heightened emotions. Savage was in charge of the investigation into Reese’s abduction. Bureaucracy kept his hands tied and my frustrations high. I’m sure he’s a fine man in other circumstances.”

Surprise registering in her features, Regan returned, “He never mentioned that, but I suppose he wouldn’t. Tess tends to get upset when he talks about work, so he doesn’t, except perhaps to Gwen.” She considered Miles’ last statement, shrugging despite the slight twist of a smile, “He’s not one to go out of the way to make himself likeable, for most people, either. I loathed him at first.”

His own surprise showed on his face. “Loathed him? But you seem like such a good natured young woman,” he commented, his tone teasing.

“Generally, but I’ve always been terribly spoiled,” Regan confessed, “and I was quite upset that he was seeing Gwen. Also, he’s highly adept at acting like he’s no older than Tess.”

Picturing the auror making an ass of himself brought a smile to the solicitor’s lips and he chuckled. He’d known Regan was bright, but it was nice to see that she was the sort of person who could own her flaws. Her rather wry sense of humor was another pleasant aspect of being in her company.

The rest of their meal passed with light conversation and good food and Miles found he was quite ready to move on to the part of the evening that would allow him more contact than simply sitting beside his date. After settling the bill, he stood, holding out his hand to Regan.

“Shall we go cut a rug, Miss Bole?”

“Something like that,” Regan agreed, rising as well and moving to lay her hand in Miles’ waiting one. Her anxiety had dissipated somewhat over the course of dinner, as her companion was personable and asked surprisingly few intrusive questions for a man whose job it was to ask intrusive questions, but the warmth of his skin under her fingers was enough of a reminder of their impending proximity to set her nerves abuzz once more.

Eyes flicking to his, she felt her cheeks pinken with the sudden awareness that she was looking forward to dancing despite the likelihood she’d manage to make a fool of herself.

The color that flooded her cheeks was charming, and it served to remind him that Regan was younger than women he’d dated before. It made him wonder just how much experience she’d had dating men. It was something to keep in mind; he’d need to tread carefully.

Keeping hold of her hand, he retraced their steps until they were back in the alcove, then slipped an arm about her waist. “Ready, then?”

Not entirely trustful of her voice, Regan simply nodded, turning her face up to Miles’ as she waited for him to Apparate them to the dance hall.

Strictly Ballroom was nearly as much of a favorite as the Cat and Fiddle, though she’d been only a few times, and she guessed it to be a more comfortable venue for her date, given that Slytherins other than Gwen did not seem highly inclined toward jigs and reels. Perhaps I’ll offer, though, if he’d want to see me again.

They arrived as a waltz was coming to an end and waited on the sidelines for the next dance to begin. Miles knew at least the basics of most ballroom dances, but it had been some time before he’d put the knowledge to use. It was a relief when the music for a foxtrot came on next. At least he’d have a chance to get his bearings before jumping into something more complex.

Leading Regan onto the dance floor, he pulled them into position. His grin went a bit crooked just before he began to move. “You’ll forgive me if I’m a little rusty, I hope. I haven’t had a pretty woman in my arms for some time.”

Positive she was tinting further, though it shouldn’t be possible, Regan managed a small smile, teasing in return, “Only adorable toddlers, then?”

His profession of ill-practice notwithstanding, Miles led well, and she admonished herself to relax. She’d had little enough opportunity to enjoy an evening with such a pleasing fellow, and he was plainly making an effort to set her at ease.

Regan moved lightly, her form precise as they glided around the room. She was very good, but he wasn’t sure she was enjoying herself. He pondered the tension he felt in her frame as they finished the dance, and as the next one began - a lively latin dance - Miles leaned close to her ear.

“I promise not to bite. Let me see you smile a bit or you’ll make me worry you’ve decided your invitation was ill advised.”

Biting her lower lip and feeling especially silly for having been caught out, Regan nodded. Far worse than her feeling ridiculous, she was ruining his fun, which certainly was not the idea for the evening. Stretching up to her toes, hopefully within range of hearing, she offered, “My apologies, and I should never think such a thing, though I often wish for a bit more temerity than I naturally possess.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured her, falling in with the other dancers. “A man just likes to know his company is being enjoyed. Otherwise I’m not doing my duty as your escort.”

He spun her away then, lips curling when she came back into his arms with a warmth in her green eyes that hadn’t been there before. The steps were too quick for there to be much conversation, but the smile he’d requested managed to make an appearance from time to time. It was enough for now. As the music wound down, Miles dipped her with a theatrical flair. “Much better.”

Regan’s expression was bashful, but happy, as she let Miles right her from the dip. She laid the hand not clasped in his against his vest as she found her balance, surprised to find the material far smoother than it looked, and the muscle beneath more than expectedly firm and warm. Flustered by her continual tendency to notice such things, particularly when he pulled her close, she placed her hand deliberately back at his shoulder, voicing a tad sheepishly, “I suppose it’s only fair, since your company is very much being enjoyed.”

Miles pulled her closer, enjoying the press of her slight frame against him. “I’m very glad to hear that. The sentiment is shared.”

Intensely aware of each and every point of contact between herself and Miles, her eyes bright with that knowledge, Regan volleyed, "I should hate to waste your evening; you might, after all, be spending time with some deeply intriguing legal brief instead -"

Her breath caught as the music changed and she was twirled deftly, then swept back into the solid wall of his body, her own steps borne of pure muscle memory and the many years of being trained to follow. "-Or perhaps even doing research," she finished, the words fading as she found his merry regard. She could feel the rabbiting beat of her heart in her throat, and wondered if he could see it as well.

A low chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. It was difficult not to be charmed by Regan. She had a quick wit and a sharp mind, but at the same time she had such innocence about her that he found himself tempted see just how many ways he could bring color to her cheeks or make her pretty green eyes grow wide. Seeing her affected by his nearness pulled at his own emotions. How long had it been since anyone had looked at him that way?

“I spend all the time I care to among legal papers,” Miles said, his attention solely on Regan as they glided across the floor, “and not nearly enough in good company. Perhaps you’ll take pity on me and allow me to enjoy yours again?”

Despite the tingling weight of his focus, the thrill of his invitation brought a smile to her lips, and Regan nodded readily. "Pity is no factor; I did seek you, to start, and I would like that, very much."

Never wont to dissemble, she saw no harm in simply admitting such. It was not, to be sure, a Slytherin trait, but she was certain that Miles knew already that she possessed precious few of those, and he didn't seem to mind. The fact that he kept Reese's company spoke volumes for his ability to abide her own far less staid tendencies.

With a bit of strategic footwork, Miles steered them out of the crowd and into a quiet corner just off the dance floor. He could see Regan’s expression turning to curiosity, and he kept her tucked close against him even when he came to a halt. “Wonderful.” A gentle finger under her chin tipped her face up to meet his as he leaned in to capture her lips.

Her breath catching in the split second when she realized Miles was going to kiss her, Regan stilled entirely as his lips met her own, her blood loud in her ears. As tightly strung as she'd been most of the evening, this warm, coaxing contact felt a bit like being strummed, and after an instant she returned the soft pressure of his kiss, rising to her toes to meet him, her fingers fluttering at his shoulder.

Moving his hand from its place beneath Regan’s chin, he brushed his thumb across her cheek. She was so small, just a wisp of a woman soft in his arms, and Miles liked the feel of her beneath his hands. With the light swipe of his tongue, he bade her to open for him and let him learn her taste. The tightening of her grip on his shoulder in response had a grin curling against her lips.

Losing a small noise against Miles' mouth, Regan yielded to his intrusion. She was tempted by the warm reassurance of his hand at her cheek, but moreso by the delicious insistence of his kiss, and ventured to flick her tongue against his own as he explored her. Hazily, she realized how tightly her fingers were curled into the fabric of his coat, and slid them tentatively to his hair instead.

The way her fingers sifted through the short strands of his hair gave rise to a low growl and Miles' kisses became more fervent. For several very enjoyable minutes he plundered her mouth, relishing the way Regan melted into him. Eventually the deep kisses grew lighter, more shallow, until he pulled away with one final brush of lips. Looking down at his date, he couldn’t help but enjoy the way her gaze was a little unfocused, her lips just a bit swollen. “Why Miss Bole, you have the look of a woman who’s been thoroughly snogged,” he teased before pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Trying valiantly, though in vain, to control her breathing and coerce her singing nerves into some semblance of order, it was several long seconds before Regan even realized what Miles had said. The processing of his taunt took only a beat, then, and she promptly flushed an even more brilliant scarlet than his kisses had caused, ducking her head in chagrin, despite that she couldn't really bring herself to be terribly bothered by the fact that he'd just kissed her like that in public.

More than a little overwhelmed by the combination of his continued nearness and the glorious humming sensation she was still experiencing, she murmured eventually, "It isn't very gentlemanly to tease, you know, given your enthusiastic participation and the fact that you could hardly expect for me to be inclined to impede you... or to have the presence." Her eyes darted up to his, then away again, her features still more mesmerized and curious than scolding.

Once again he lifted her face toward his with a light touch under her chin, though he did not move to kiss her this time. “It was not my intention to offend your delicate sensibilities, Regan. I was merely taking note of the fetching color in your face and the plumpness of recently kissed lips. It’s a good look on you. In my admittedly less-than-humble opinion, you should wear it often. Though it should not be bestowed indiscriminately, only by a man who can appreciate the effect.”

Oddly calmed by his gentle insistence that she meet his eyes, removing the need for her to struggle to do so on her own, Regan was silent while Miles corrected her, his words brewing a typhoon of images in her mind. The accompanying phantom sensations raised a wave of gooseflesh on her skin, forcing a tiny shiver, and she queried, somewhat breathily, "I suppose that you would name yourself such a connosieur?"

“Well, after my ‘enthusiastic participation’, you could hardly expect me to leave the task to just anyone. Besides, I’m finding it a rather pleasurable pastime to see just how many intriguing reactions you’ll show me. Most women these days treat small intimacies with nonchalance. It’s something of a treasure to find one who’s not so jaded.”

It went unsaid that there were other, more intimate things he’d like to do with her, other, more intimate responses he’d like to draw from her. His eyes were dark with the thoughts though, heavy with the desires stirring inside. Regan was young and inexperienced though. There would be time for other things later, when they knew each other better.

The heat in Miles' gaze made it difficult to breathe, and Regan's pulse fluttered In her throat, mediated only by the grounding effect of his touch. "Jaded, no," she murmured at length, awash with the possibilities of the 'small intimacies' he mentioned.

"It seems it would be cruel to deny access to your pastime, then," she observed, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Very cruel indeed,” Miles murmured just before wrapping his arms around her and endeavoring to bring the unfocused glaze back into Regan’s eyes.

Summary: Miles and Regan do a little dancing, and a little snogging.