It had been a sudden burst of impulse that had led her to write back to a Quidditch player from Falmouth, of all places -- but she was slowly beginning to see that she couldn't just coop herself up at home with the dragons or with her job at the Ministry (which she'd been very lucky to be able to get back after her spotty attendance before her leave of absence, really). It was time for her to move on with her life now that Voldemort really was gone, and the Death Eater activity had significantly decreased for what the world hoped was good.

She chewed absently at her pinky fingernail while she waited for Michal to show up to the diner. She hadn't moved out to her own flat again yet, so going home was out of the question -- and she didn't want him to think that she was some complete nutter from Hebrides right off the bat anyway, even if that was pretty obvious to everyone but her.

Their impromptu pub-date had gone well, she'd thought -- it was certainly clear to her that he probably needed to learn to relax too, whether he'd ever held the ability to and lost it as she had.