Chapter 13: The Riddleless Ravenclaw
I was honestly worried that I would not get out of work in time to go out with Dillan, and what was more shocking was that I was actually upset about it. Usually when work got in the way of social engagements I didn't care and was often even relieved. For whatever reason this was different and I wanted nothing more than to leave the hospital and go to whatever restaurant Dillan had reservations at.
No sooner had Matt vacated the Dai Lewellyn ward had a couple idiots turned up who decided to get into it with a hippogriff, resulting in bites that would scar. Served them right, I thought, aggravating a poor hippogriff. As much as I loved how much I helped people in my job, I hated the fact that part of it was cleaning up the messes of idiots. That cut into my brewing time so I had to stay late to work on a batch of Skele-Gro, which resulted in my staying at St. Mungo's until 7:30 on Friday night.
Fifteen minutes later I was back in my flat taking a very fast shower and hoping I had something in my closet that was nice enough to wear to a fancy restaurant with Dillan. Once I stepped back into my bedroom, I found Victoire sitting on my bed alongside a very elegant navy blue dress with long sleeves that looked like it would go down to my knees.
“You are a godsend,” I said as I grabbed the dress and walked back into the bathroom. “Where did you get it?”
“My closet,” she shouted through the door. “Another one of those things I actually thought I might be able to fit into again after having Sophie but now have no hope whatsoever since having twins will surely be twice as bad for my body.”
“Well, my wardrobe has certainly benefited from your pregnancies,” I replied. “Thanks.”
“Hey, that dress did its magic on Teddy and now it's time for it to do the same with Dillan.”
“Victoire!” I shouted as I stuck my head out into the hall. She was grinning mischievously. “This is only our second date. It's not like I'm going to marry the guy.”
“You never know. I never thought I'd marry the kid who I played Exploding Snap with while our grandmothers baked banana bread in the other room,” Victoire pointed out.
“I still don't even want to think about marriage at this point. I just want to have a good evening,” I said.
“You will,” Victoire said as she stood up. She flicked her wand a few times to dry and straighten my hair. “Now stop worrying and just loosen up.”
“I'm not worried; why do you think I'm worried?”
“We've been friends for fifteen years. I know when you're worried,” Victoire said. “Oh, I meant to ask you earlier, I'm on call this weekend, so could you watch Sophie if I get called in? Ted's on another mission.”
“Of course. How long does he think this one's going to last?”
“He doesn't think it'll go past Sunday,” Victoire replied. “Let me know if anything exciting happens tonight and I really want to hear all about this bloke. Come over to dinner at my place tomorrow if I'm not called in.”
“Definitely,” I said.
“See you tomorrow, then,” Victoire said as she left the flat.
I paced in my living room for a few minutes before there was a knock on the door at exactly eight-thirty. Dillan was punctual, that was for sure. The last bloke I had dated was always at least ten minutes late for anything, which was one of the many reasons I broke it off with him.
I opened the door and saw Dillan standing in the corridor with a bouquet of wildflowers. They were various shades of blue and green.
“You look great in that dress,” he said as he handed me the flowers. “Hope you like wildflowers. I was going to go with roses, but I thought these were more your style.”
I stepped aside to let him in and went to put the flowers in a vase, leaving him in the entryway, which gave me time to return my breathing back to normal. How did he know I hated roses? I never mentioned a thing about how Cinda decorated my bedroom in her house with a rose theme, resulting in my hatred of the flower.
“I love the flowers,” I said once I returned. “And I hate roses. Did you take Divination?”
“For a year. Thought it would be an easy class. I was wrong, so I switched to Ancient Runes,” he replied. “Well, I've got reservations at a French restaurant a few blocks away. It's a Muggle one, so I thought we'd walk.”
“You sure like Muggle restaurants, don't you?” I commented as we left the flat.
“Muggles have a way with food that most wizards don't. Magic tends to ruin food, I've noticed.”
“You've never eaten my friend Victoire's grandmother's cooking then,” I said.
“Nope, can't say that I have. What about your grandmothers? Are they the cooking type?”
“Let's put it this way, when my mum's mother, Cinda, lived in her house in Australia, her oven and stove were just for show. My dad's mum, she cooked a bit, but I don't really remember much. She died when I was young.”
“We're in the same boat, then. My grandmothers, bless their hearts, wouldn't have known what to do with a spatula if it came with an instruction manual. Guess that's why I've eaten at practically every restaurant in London.”
It wasn't a very long walk to the restaurant and the weather was surprisingly nice anyway. Cold, but not windy, which was pretty much considered beautiful for January. It was a very small and quiet restaurant with dim lighting and cozy booths. Nobody in it seemed to be under the age of twenty and all of the waiters and waitresses were wearing suits.
The maitre d' led us to a booth in the back and lit the candle on the table before producing two menus and telling us that our server would be with us shortly. I opened my menu only to discover that the entire thing was in French and the extent of my knowledge of the French language is 'bonjour', 'fromage', and 'ou es la toilet?'. Sure, knowing French was common for a lot of people in England but since I spent my first fourteen years in Australia I never bothered learning it. I should have Victoire give me a brief lesson in it sometime.
“I haven't the slightest idea what any of this means,” I whispered across the table.
“It's ok,” he assured me. “I'll order for you.”
I suppressed the urge to rattle off a list of foods I didn't like and decided to just let him order for me. French food was French food, right? It was all going to be gourmet and amazing. I could always just eat around the mushrooms, trying not to be very obvious with picking them out.
The waiter arrived and Dillan must have ordered something in French because a few minutes later the waiter delivered a bottle of red wine, a baguette, and a platter of cheese to the table. I assumed it was brie, and tentatively put some onto a piece of baguette while Dillan poured two glasses of wine. The French cheese was actually really good.
“So,” I began as I spread a bit more cheese on another piece of bread, “what house were in you in at Hogwarts?”
“Ravenclaw,” Dillan answered after setting down his glass. “Spent most of my time wishing I was in Hufflepuff because I'm terrible with riddles. Usually had to wait until someone else wanted to get into the common room before I could. Bloody embarrassing as a seventh year, waiting for the eleven-year-olds to let me in.”
I didn't even try to suppress my laugh. “Poor Dillan, forced to wait every time he wanted to get into the common room.”
“You'd think the Sorting Hat, having the brains of Godric Gryffindor, would have been able to tell that I couldn't solve a riddle to save my life, let alone gain me entrance into the common room,” Dillan muttered.
“Maybe it likes a joke?” I suggested.
“Pretty awful joke if you ask me, making someone be the butt of everyone's jokes for seven years. The only Ravenclaw too stupid to get into his own common room. The Slytherins called me 'Dumb Dillan' for two years before they realized it had gotten old. Then they dubbed me the 'Riddleless Ravenclaw'.”
“Really? You were known throughout the school for this?” I asked. I'd never heard of anyone not being able to get into their common room. Either Dillan was a lot older or younger than me, or I was clueless while at Hogwarts. “What year did you graduate?”
“2013. What about you?”
“2017, but I didn't move to England until 2013, so I started Hogwarts the year after you graduated. That would explain why I hadn't heard of the Riddleless Ravenclaw.”
“If you call me that I'll order you the escargot,” Dillan said as he ripped off a chunk of bread.
“That's one bit of French that I do know and I won't let you order me snails.”
“Too bad. They're tasty.”
The waiter returned and Dillan ordered something in French. I did hear the word 'escargot', but I really hoped he was ordering them for himself. But really, who could possibly enjoy eating snails? Even Victoire didn't like them and she was half-French.
“You really like escargot?” I asked after the waiter left.
“Sure,” Dillan replied. “It's an acquired taste, but it's pretty good.”
“Is there any food you don't like?”
“Nope.” Dillan grinned.
We both reached for our wine glasses at the same time, resulting in a few moments of silence, but it wasn't awkward like so many silences during other dates I'd been on.
I set down my glass. “So how did a Ravenclaw such as yourself start working as a counterfeit coin checker at Gringotts?”
“That would be the result of my inability to make a decision about what I wanted to do with my life so I got a menial job to do while I decided and well, sixteen years later, I still haven't decided. Well, I've sort of decided.”
Completely the opposite of me, I thought, as I had my entire career planned out at the age of fifteen. “What did you decide on?”
“You're going to think I'm crazy,” Dillan began. “But I would love to open my own restaurant.
“Like a pub?”
“No, like a real restaurant, like this only less fancy,” Dillan explained. “I like to cook, Muggle style, of course. That's the idea, I'll start a restaurant in the magical world, only I wouldn't use magic to cook. Some place like Diagon Alley or something.”
“That's not crazy,” I said. “You should do what you really want to do.”
“You think?” Dillan asked. “It would be a risk, of course, starting a business always is, but my parents left me enough when they died and I haven't spent it. They weren't rich by any means, but it's enough start-up for a restaurant.”
“Then do it,” I told him. “You obviously want to.”
“It's weird, though, I always thought I'd work for the Ministry like my dad did and his dad before him, doing some sort of middle of the road job and then retiring with enough to get by.”
“My dad works for the Ministry and so does my brother. I couldn't do it, though. I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut when I needed to. Politics are just too...political,” I replied. “What department did your dad work in?”
“He was an obliviator, so he worked wherever he was needed. Definitely an interesting department and he always had stories when he came home, but I just can't see myself being a Ministry worker. What about your dad and your brother?”
“My dad's Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and my brother works in Werewolf Support Services,” I said.
“Wow, your dad's pretty high up there. Is your brother going to follow in his footsteps?”
“I don't know. I mean, my dad's never been one to sit back and watch things happen, which is how he got that position. He started in Werewolf Support Services here, but he had been Head of the entire magical creatures department in Australia, too. My whole family's like that, though, wanting to change the world kind of thing, always have been. Matt's different, though.” I paused, trying to figure out the best way to say it. There was no way Matt would ever be head of the department, being a werewolf. “I don't think he's outspoken enough.”
“What about you?” Dillan asked. “Are you going to change the world?”
At that moment the waiter arrived with our food. Even though I had already decided I wasn't going to tell Dillan about my work with the Wolfsbane, at least not yet, I was grateful. Maybe he would forget his question. I knew there was a big difference between telling him about the Wolfsbane and telling him about Matt, but the two were so interconnected for me that telling him about the first would almost be like telling him about the latter.
The waiter set some sort of chicken dish in front of me and luckily it did not contain any mushrooms. It actually looked quite good. Dillan had his escargot along with some sort of steak dish. Like with the pizza, Dillan waited for me to try my meal before he tried his own. I took a bite and yet again, Dillan had introduced me to an amazing dish.
“Delicious,” I said after I had swallowed.
“Glad you like it, but I'm not waiting for you to try the food, you know.” He smiled and I realized he was waiting for me to answer the question about changing the world.
“I guess you could say I'm not trying to change the world like my dad is, but I'm just trying to make it easier for a few people.”
“See, that to me is changing the world more than what they do at the Ministry, no offense to your dad or anything.”
“None taken,” I replied as I began to dig into my chicken.
I never really thought of what I was doing as changing the world anyway. Changing the world to me seemed like something that would involve bringing about world peace or solving poverty or ending world hunger, or even like what Harry Potter did, but not fixing a potion that someone else created.
Whether Dillan was analyzing my answer or merely enjoying his steak, I didn't know, but we were silent for the next few minutes, each of us lost in our food and thoughts. I'd never met anyone like Dillan before, and it both excited and scared me. The last thing I wanted was for him to be like the few blokes I had dated before, but it's honestly what I expected. I expected him to be a nine-to-five Ministry drone who wanted to spend every minute of every weekend together completely forgetting the fact that my job wouldn't allow for that. But Dillan didn't give off that vibe, simply because he wanted to open a restaurant and that would require a lot of his time.
We finished our dinners over the next half hour, pausing for sips of wine and tales of our times at Hogwarts. We both ranted about Professor Washburn and the Slytherins who had tormented us. But we also talked about the good times, the times we snuck out of our dormitories with our friends and impromptu trips to the kitchens.
By the time dessert arrived (crème brule, something surprisingly tasty for not having any chocolate in it), we were laughing and had earned glares by other patrons. I suppose loud raucous laughter was frowned upon in fancy restaurants. Dillan paid the bill and we were soon back out in the cold winter night.
The sidewalks were less crowded now, and the only people out and about were hurrying towards buildings, most likely due to the fact that the wind had picked up. I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself as Dillan took my hand and squeezed it.
“I had fun tonight.” I said as I smiled up at him.
“Me too,” Dillan agreed. “I was wondering if maybe I could cook dinner for you sometime, now that I've told you about my restaurant idea.”
“I'd like that.”
“Next weekend then? Friday or Saturday, whichever works better for you,” Dillan suggested.
Next weekend. Next weekend I was on call. I was a little taken aback at how upset I was about this. Normally when blokes asked for second or third dates I hoped they'd pick a day when I was on call, just so I'd have a decent excuse to say no, but not this time. This time I wished I wasn't.
“I'm actually on call next weekend,” I said quietly. “I wish I could, though.”
“Not a problem. How about the weekend after?”
“That would be great.” I smiled.
A few minutes later we reached my flat building. We paused at the door and Dillan took both of my hands. I gazed into his eyes and smiled as I noticed they were the perfect chocolate color. He smiled back and tilted his head as he leaned closer to me. His lips met mine and I closed my eyes. The kiss was brief, like all first kisses are, but to me it was the perfect length. We were both smiling when we pulled apart and I could feel the heat in my cheeks, despite the frigid air.
“Good night, Amy,” he said quietly, still smiling at me.
“Good night, Dillan,” I echoed, still in a daze from the kiss.
He walked away slowly, looking back every so often to gaze at me. I stood at the door until he disappeared into a nearby alley and I imagined the sound of him Apparating. Only then did I walk inside, still feeling his lips on mine.