Narrative
Who: George and Lavender
When: February 14, 2007
Where: A restaurant and George's flat
Status: Ongoing
Rating: TBA
Summary: Lavender discovers her secret valentine's identity.
Lavender smiled and nodded. It was something she was used to do on her line of work. It was actually something she had learned very young, when taking etiquette lessons. It was the polite thing to do, to show an interlocutor that you were paying attention to what was said and that it was interesting and meaningful and Lavender was a master on it. Most of the time she actually find what she was hearing interesting and she always, always paid attention, especially when at work, Draco wouldn't expect anything less. Except that in that moment she wasn't finding what Nigel was saying interesting. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even paying attention. Nigel was, just as she had told George earlier, a good man, from a very good family -his mother was a Goyle, but not the Death Eater branch of the family- and he was smart, good looking and rich. He was a complete bore. An elitist, prejudiced, full of himself pureblood.
Not twenty minutes into dinner Lavender had decided that the flowers were not from him. They couldn't be. As he kept going on and on about how the Ministry was too permissive of Muggle-born influence and how a good witch had to know she couldn't possibly work once she was married, -not even noticing that her food was untouched- Lavender excused herself and flew to the ladies' room.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was flawless and elegant, her hair impeccable and her dress fitting the expensive place -far more expensive than Le Petit and the food was horrible- and yet she'd have given everything in that moment for some chicken tandoori and the company of a redhead. George. She couldn't stop thinking about him and the feeling that the flowers and the certificate were from him grew by the minute, which only meant she had most likely offended him when she said she thought they were from Nigel.
A couple of older women walked in just when she felt her mobile vibrating.
White symbolises reverence and coral symbolises desire. Have a good time, Lav. You deserve to be happy.
Her hands trembled as she read the message and she did what came so natural to her. She squealed and bounced so loud the two women that had been chatting while they fixed their makeup looked at her.
Not minding them, she sent a text message of her own and send it to George.
Where are you?