January 9th, 1978
Who: Graciela Cervantes and Alexandrakis Smith (yeah what names omg)
What: He's got to do an annoying interview for an article, but finds a pleasant distraction in Graciela.
Where: Outside of Madame Puddifoot's



“Sim sim, ah…yes, two strawberry pastries e ah…yes, hot chocolate. Quier---would you like the marshmallows?” Graciela asked kindly to the patrons, who were too involved with each other to give her their order correctly, even if this had been the fifth time she’d tried to get it from them. She bit back any signs of frustration, however, as Senhora Puddifoot would be quite disappointed in her if she put on a foul front for the patrons. This place was happy and fun, it was supposed to be for los jovenes to sit around and be in love.

Finally, the boy turned and nodded, waving her off. She smiled and simply turned back to the counter to place the order. Oh good, it was time for her break. Graciela grinned and pulled off her apron, rushing into the back room hanging it on the hook and pulling out her book from the shelves. Flinging on her cloak she waved good bye to the chef and left the shoppe…just to sit on one of the benches in front of it.

All she wanted to do was read, why go all the way across town just to come back in an hour? Graciela didn’t mind that she was still in uniform, or that she probably had white powder on her face, it wasn’t as if anyone was going to be looking at her, anyway.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me!" It had been Alex's first reaction when he'd gotten his assignment a week ago and it had not changed in anyway. "A hang out for teenagers who are swapping spit with their infatuation of the week isn't exactly what I call headline news!" He had given every argument he could possibly imagine-everything to just get out of one story he was dreading above all others. There had been comebacks of how he wasn't ready for headline news, about how he still had a ways to climb before he got there, and thus they gave him the little shop of love to review and compliment so it could be edited and run before Valentine's Day. Oh, just bloody wonderful. Once he was one of their best writers, he had every intention in the world of making sure that whoever had given him this assignment got a swift kick up the rear. A nice introduction of his own foot to their ass. He hadn't stepped inside the shop since he was 15-maybe 16-and the last time had not been exactly what he would've called a pleasant experience. Not very long after he'd started medication, he had somehow said something that deserved having very hot hot chocolate poured into his lap. The fact that his bollocks had remained unharmed was a fucking miracle in his eyes and he had sworn to give them the proper reward of never coming near the pink and frilly store ever again.

"Sorry, mates," he said to his own anatomy, walking down the street towards the shop with his pad of paper and a quill in hand. Quick Quote Quills were far too expensive, not to mention annoying, and only game in those horrible colors like acid green or electric blue anyway. He rubbed the back of his neck, groaning loudly as he began to approach, running over the questions in his head so he wouldn't fuck this up in some way. Get in, talk to the lady, get out. That's all he needed to do, right?

That was until he saw a particular girl of interest sitting on the bench outside with a book propped open in her lap. He had the strange feeling that he should have known her, but couldn't remember ever seeing her or having ever been introduced to her in his life. He was sure he'd remember a pretty face (despite the smears of what he assumed was flour over her features) like hers anywhere, making him quite sure the weird deja vu he was suddenly come over with was just that. Weird.

"Erm, pardon me, Miss, but I'm supposed to be doing an interview with the employees of this shop today?" Lies-he was supposed to just do it with the owner, but input from other workers wouldn't be all bad, now would it?

Graciela often wondered why she hadn’t been Sorted into Ravenclaw. When she got to reading, it was as if she actually entered the story the book was telling, even if it was one of her texts. She became so entranced with every word on the pages, every last detail that she often ended up in the common room for hours, far past curfew and more often than not, causing her to be late to class. Maybe that was the reason; a Ravenclaw wouldn’t have let themselves miss a chance to learn something new, even if it was for a very good book.

Hufflepuff had been good to her. Graciela found, in her many hours examining everyone around her (though never really getting a full analysis, as she never approached anyone) that the students in Hufflepuff seemed to have less to…stress about. Not school work, no, but the social and peer pressures that the ‘identities’ of the other Houses seemed to place on their students. A Hufflepuff was hardworking and loyal…wasn’t any good person? Slytherins needed to be hardworking to be ambitious, Ravenclaws needed that trait as well, to learn so much, and Gryffindors had to be loyal to keep themselves alive.

When Alex approached her, it took her to the end of the chapter (which was about another page) to finally notice him. Graciela’s brown eyes widened at the sight of a pair of feet so close to her, and she looked up quickly to see who they belonged to.

“ Desculpe?” she asked, then flushed, “Excuse me? Oh---hello, how are you?” He had been in her year at Hogwarts, having graduated with her in June. Graciela smiled; it was nice to see someone from her year, all she was surrounded by lately were current students.

Alex was used to being ignored. Being a middle child and having his family so obsessed with either his model of a sister or genius of a little brother had always caused him to be overshadowed at home, and once he had quit the Quidditch team and stopped communicating to the human race on a whole, he had stopped getting much attention at school as well. There was something Gryffindors had against people changing their minds. Very few ever took into account that there may have been some reasoning behind his actions; he was simply a wanker and that was all there was to say about that. So when the young woman continued to read, he simply stood there, waiting patiently for her to look up and notice him whenever she was prepared to. He had been quite convinced it wasn't going to happen when suddenly her eyes lifted from the page and he let out a bit of a sigh of relief.

"Er, fine," he said quickly, not really having ever been fond of the greeting. To tell the truth would only cause panic and lying was supposed to be bad; it was a Catch 22, really, if he'd actually cared about whether or not he'd go to hell for his white lies. Luckily, he didn't even believe in such a place. After all, what could really be more torturous then Earth alone?

"I was… asking you about… The interview? Did Madam Puddifoot tell any of you I was coming for it or are lovely ladies such as yourself left completely in the dark?" Flirting? Now? Of all times? Merlin's beard, Alex! He cleared his throat, taking his free hand to rub the back of his beck where he could already feel a crick growing, and waited patiently to see if she would answer. He would've loved to sit down next to her and get to ask her questions from that close a proximity, but he couldn't help but shake the feeling that that wasn't really going to happen.

“Inter…view? Ay, ah---“ Graciela flushed deeply. Ay deus, Senhora hadn’t said anything about something like that, and quite suddenly she didn’t know what to do with herself. What was she supposed to say? What was she---about the shop? What about the shop? Didn’t eveyone know what this shop was for? Tea e beijos, amor e holding hands. Oh, oh, what could she possibly say for an interview! An actual interview! This was…

…her eyes softened as Graciela realized he’d called her a lovely lady. Oh. That was…not professional. She bit her lip in nervousness, as all of a sudden this interview had taken on quite a different meaning. Now…now he thought she was pretty, ay, that was something she wasn’t used to at all, and Graciela unconciously ran her hand through her hair, then put her hand to her face. Her blush deepened as she realized she was covered in sugar and powder and probably chocolate, ay—this was---far too much stress—for her lunch break!

“Ay ah…no, it’s oh—ookay,” she patted the free space on the bench next to her involuntarily, as it was only polite. “What…what do you need to find? Know, need to know?”

Oh Jesus Christ, could she have been anymore adorable? He tried his best to contain the smirk (which wasn't that hard, as he didn't really tend to smile all that often) as she stumbled over her words, realized her current state of fashion, and corrected her English, all in the span of about five minutes. It was endearing. He smiled faintly, blue eyes staying on her for a moment, before he cleared his throat and started to dig through his pockets. Eventually, he pulled out a handkerchief. He knew it wasn't exactly customary for people their age to be into such an old-fashioned thing, but his mother always bought them for him. She stuffed one into his pockets everyday before he left the house, and for once, he actually had a thankful moment for it. "Here. If you're worried about the…white…stuff and all." Which she had looked. Quite, even, though he couldn't figure out why.

Clearing his throat again - a nervous habit, right - he finally sat down onto the bench, putting the clean piece of parchment in front of him and searching around for the quill he'd placed somewhere. Bugger, fuck, dammit! He paused for a quick moment, his hand mid search through his pocket, before he felt his cheeks turn the slightest bit of red as he grabbed the quill from behind his ear, and rubbed his neck lightly. Well, that had been only slightly embarrassing.

"Well, um…" He didn't know what was really wrong with him. Not three years ago, he'd probably been one of the best flirts and smoothest talkers in the Gryffindor house - hell, maybe even Hogwarts! Yet, here he sat, questions written out for him, and absolutely no clue as to where to start. He had a few he knew he was supposed to ask only the manager, so he skipped over them, and even made up one or two. "First off, the Daily Prophet readers are curious as to how many customers you tend to get - and what sorts, as well, if you can place it. To know if it's something their kids were or could be interested in and all."

She hesitated before taking the handkerchief, not because she was wary of him (okay, she was, but---), but…that was just very nice of him, sim? How many boys pulled out a handkerchief for a lady these days? None, it seemed, from the boys that took their girls to Madame Puddifoot’s (or at least, were dragged here by their girlfriends). Graciela smiled in thanks and patted her cheeks, wondering how she was supposed to figure out where all the powder was anyway, but to at least make some sort of effort…but not completely mess his handkerchief up, no, that would make her look like a slob, so…she simply dabbed her face, and with her other hand she’d gestured toward his ear when he was in search of it (she often lost her quill behind her ear too, and in her hair), and bit her lip again as he began to ask questions.

“Ay ah…it is mostly a younger person that comes here, the students,” she said with a wave of her hand toward Hogwarts castle, which towered over the village. “It is very slow when it is not one of their visit weekends, but girls like it very much, and the boys….” Graciela crinkled her nose, trying to find a good explanation to how the boys felt. It wouldn’t do to make the shop seem unapproachable to boys, but she honestly didn’t see a boy that looked happy to enter the place. “The boys like that the shop makes the girls happy.”

A small laugh escaped her lips and she shrugged. Would he really be using everything she said? That could end up badly, Graciela knew. “Is that good?”

Were Alex in the frame of mind he would naturally be in, he would have laughed. His mind registered the whole statement as amusing, a slight smile given in response, but no chortling was involved what-so-ever. Taking so many pills had started to effect his personality a long time ago, yet the young man seemed to find it so incredibly…Impossible to cut back. He scribbled down her choice of words, making a side notation here and there for the details he would use later in the story - such as her uniform or the way she seemed to try and choose her words so professionally as she answered his questions - before he gave a soft nod.

"Yeah, that's perfect, sweetheart," he said without really thinking. There was a pet name he hadn't dished out in ages. Luv, guv, mate, or what-have-you had escaped him many times, of course, but sweetheart? It was almost like reverting back to the more popular days of school. Something he wasn't going to be fond of if he caught himself doing it. He looked back up to her, tilting his head some as he studied her for a moment, before moving on to the next question. He was supposed to be 'professional' after all, despite the idiotic frivolity he thought was surrounding this 'review.'

"For my own curiosity, and I highly doubt I'll get to use this in the article so feel free to be honest; how many couples in here do you think actually stick together? I know the few times I came inside they all seemed like the type who would be dating the next so-and-so in Hogwarts in about a week, but I'm also not seeing it from the day to day perspective." It seemed like a legit inquiry to him, though he knew that the editors would throw a conniption fit if he dared try to enter it into his writing. It was nice to have just in case, though.

She’d realized after the first few questions that he didn’t recognize her from school, which was more than a bit upsetting, but Graciela didn’t let it show. The girl couldn’t understand how you could have classes with someone for seven years and simply not remember their face (or name). Though, that was rude of her to assume; maybe he did remember who she was and was simply being very professional with the interview, trying to find the information with as much journalistic integrity…but then he called her ‘sweetheart,’ and Graciela wasn’t exactly sure what Alex was up to anymore.

It was immediate, her cheeks flushing again, and now, now he was examining her, ay deus, this was quite possibly the hardest interview she had ever had…it was only the second one she’d ever had, but, still. Um hombre bonito coming up to her and asking her questions was much harder than explaining to Senhora Puddifoot that she needed the job to keep her rent, that she could speak English well and make tea. This was much, much harder, and now he’d called her sweetheart and was looking at her and---

Question. He’d asked a question. “Que? Ay ah---stick…together?” Her brow furrowed, unsure of what he meant by that, but then thought back to the rest of what Alex had said (that she’d managed to catch). “So and so…? Oh, ah---I think, I think that they do not really know what it is, love.”

Graciela wasn’t sure where the slightly profound statement had come from, but it seemed natural, and she continued, feeling the need to do so (he was writing an article after all). “Sometimes I see a boy in the store with a new girlfriend every month, but,” she waved her hand to the people walking out in the streets, “I see the same two people pass every day together, and they never come in. Maybe they know what love is, they do not need to come in here to try to find.”

Alex watched her with an inner amusement as she turned at least three different shades of red, raising his eyebrows lightly at her rather nervous appearance. He had seen girls begin to stutter and fumble before, of course, but he had to put a lot more effort to get most of them to that point. Every time he muttered a compliment the way of this one, she seemed to get all out of sorts. It was almost refreshing. He found her anxious reactions intriguing almost, curious as to how she couldn't be used to the sort of attention he was giving her - even if it was supposed to be professional.

When she began to speak, he realized that he probably hadn't made himself entirely clear to someone who - clearly - wasn't dominant towards the English language. Dammit. He had been ready to correct himself when she made the connections, a breath of relief coming out of him as he didn't quite like having to talk more then he really had to. He was glad to know that the couple expectancies hadn't changed any, scribbling her words down word for word, though he paused as he watched her wave to the passerbys, his eyes falling on a particular couple whose hands were clasped together. The girl was leaning into what he assumed was only her boyfriend, a grin plastered on her face and they seemed completely oblivious to the rest of the world around them. He was curious as to whether they really did know what 'love was' as she put it. His parents had been together for years and he was quite sure that they had no idea. Then again, they had always gone to Madame Puddifoot's in their days; at least, that's what they told him. His eyes stayed on the couple until they had disappeared completely into the street crowd, and he couldn't help but feel a mild drop of disappointment as he wondered if his parents had ever looked that happy.

He cleared his throat as he turned to look at her, looking a bit more miffed than he had a moment before. He always seemed to get that way when he thought about his family. His hand itched to reach for the pill bottle in his pocket, but he knew it wasn't the wisest idea to do in front of a girl he'd just met. It wasn't like he needed to anyway. That would mean he was addicted and he was quite stubborn on the fact that he was not.

"Well, I really only need one more question answered - the rest can only really be answered by Madame Puddifoot herself - but um… Well…" He paused for a moment, wondering if he should really just save the question for another time, but it was just so damned tempting. Biting at the inside of his lip, he looked to the paper as though he were trying to focus particularly hard on the question at hand. "Are … you … Doing anything this Saturday?"

Smooth, Alex. Real smooth.

There was really only one reason a boy would ask a girl that question, especially after talking about couples and relationships and this ‘date spot’ of a tea shop. Graciela was rather sure that she was going to hyperventilate with how hot her face was feeling and how her hands, even in the cold weather, were getting awfully sweaty. This was certainly not what she’d been expecting from this interview, or this day…week, month, year, but to say that she was not happy about it would be um mentira. Getting asked out was…well, it was thrilling, no? Especially when she was looking like such a mess and on an interview (if he had any other intentions going into this, Graciela had no idea, or at least was not worried about it) no less.

“I…ah, no, I actually do not work Saturday, and…” All she really did was spend time on her book and take her dog on walks. With her family all the way in Portugal and her friends moving so far away after graduation, Graciela had never liked wizard transportation methods. Apparation made her sick, Floo Powder was even worse, and the Knight Bus, ay deus don’t even mention it! But, living in an all wizard village, it was kind of hard to own a car, so the girl didn’t leave Hogsmeade very often, only when she had to. And…well, a date would very much justify building up her stomach to tolerate some apparation. “Yes, I am not doing anything, but maybe...?”

She grinned, wondering if she should assume he’d plan everything, or if she should offer some ideas. No, no, he’d been the one to suggest things so…Graciela scrunched her shoulders with a timid smile.

Alex had been horribly convinced that she was going to laugh. He didn't have the same smooth like qualities he had had in school, hadn't asked a girl to go someplace with him in almost four years, and there was not way that she was going to say okay to this. He was going to be laughed at and told to just stick to the interview. Or that she had a boyfriend. Or that she just wasn't interested, which was worse then a boyfriend. He swallowed roughly as he waited for her response, the blush for some reason only furthering his worries that he was about to be shot down. Girls blushed when they felt bad for saying no, didn't they? Of course they did. Bugger, shite, f - -

She'd agreed? As in said yes to going on a date with him?

Well… Pfffft, of course she'd say yes. He was still Alexandrakis Smith after all…

He cleared his throat some, trying to act as casual as possible, but finding that the fact that his ears were the slightest color of pink was making it very hard for him to do so. "Well, maybe we could go to this Indian Cuisine place in London, then?" His voice came out with far more confidence then he was actually feeling. His typical cocky behavior from his youth seemed to have decided to pick itself back up again, his arm rather nonchalantly finding its way behind her, resting on the bench of course so that it wasn't entirely forward or anything.

In his head? He was quite convinced he must look like a complete arse. He kept his cool, however, and raised his eyebrows lightly, his bottom lip being nibbled on gently as he awaited her response. "If you don't like Indian, we can clearly pick a different restaurant, though…" He added as an afterthought. That way she couldn't turn him down for not being a fan of a certain food.

Ay, he looked anything but an arse to Graciela, who was quite suddenly remembering Alex and his glory days at Hogwarts. It had been a few years ago, but---yes, she remembered it was sixth year that he’d been all that the Gryffindors could talk about. Dropping off the team, leaving them, poor Gryffindor, always losing until last year…She’d never found out why he quit (and Graciela was quite good at listening, and no one ever figured it out, and she didn’t believe some of the outlandish rumors people had spread), but what she did recall was how popular he’d been before then. Alex had been one of those boys that seemed untouchable by a girl like her, not that she’d ever dared to think about…touching him, or how would you say---never mind. No es importa.

Ooh, but now he was asking her on a date. Maybe it was because she wasn’t hiding out in some corner of the room, though it was just a lucky break on her part that she’d sat out here; if she’d stayed inside the restaurant she would’ve found the quietest corner to read and hide from the prying eyes of customers (though really, the teenagers weren’t going to pay much attention to her anyway). Maybe he thought she’d changed and was more open, so maybe this was a bad idea because she really, really hadn’t. Or maybe---

Ay, just say yes.

“Yes, I enjoy Indian, but, I do not know where it is, Alexandrakis,” his name came out sounding like ‘Ah-leh-han-drah-kees’ and this caused her to realize that he probably didn’t know her name. “Ay ah---I am Graciela, we were in Hogwarts together, that’s how---I know. Your name. Alex.”

Hogwarts? Together? Oh, bugger… He swallowed roughly, his cocky attitude clearly disappearing, and he looked to the ground, his hand going to rub his neck roughly. "Were we?" He felt his voice crack in the middle of talking, hating the fact that he always ended up acting like this anytime school was brought up. He didn't know who hated him and who didn't, and while she seemed okay, maybe she was just agreeing to get back at him for something he'd done to her - or to one of her friends or whatever - within school. Or for quitting the team. Or for totally giving up on popularity. Or for suddenly hating everyone. Or for… Who knew what the fuck else. "I don't um… I mean, I thought you looked familiar, I just… Couldn't… Place it."

Oh, that had to sound just great. He wanted to jump in and explain that it was just because he hadn't ever met her, but well, he honestly wasn't sure. He didn't know who he had and had not met in detail, though he was almost sure he'd remember someone like her if he had. Wouldn't he? Of course he would. He thought. Maybe. Ugh.

He had definitely given an actual smile when she'd messed up his name though. There was something he hadn't done in a while. He licked his lips from nerves, before looking back to her, the uneasy smile still in place since he wasn't entirely sure how okay it was that he had been in school with her. "Well, um… It's… Nice to meet you…again?…Graciela."

“I was a Hufflepuff, so,” Graciela waved her hand around, not sure if she was thinking of a word or if she was just waving off the fact that he didn’t remember her. She couldn’t blame him, really, they were in different Houses, he was a boy, she was a not so pretty or popular girl (it was how things usually went together). She would honestly be surprised if her own roommates remembered her name, even if she’d helped them do their homework…which usually meant actually doing their homework, but she never minded too much, Graciela had considered it…more study time?

It was either do their homework or have all of her clothes hidden around the Hufflepuff dorms, or other embarrassing and annoying pranks. One time a Muggle studies essay had taken a bit longer than necessary and she’d found her favorite stuffed animal (a rabbit aptly named Bunnie) with its ears ripped off and stuck in the holes they’d ripped in the sides…okay, so she wasn’t the happiest of Hufflepuffs, but damn it, they were her roommates and she couldn’t just abandon them.

“It is nice to meet you again too, Alex,” she said with a genuine smile, “I hope I helped with your article.”

"You did help quite a bit," he said with a slight smile. Alex was more pleased with the fact that he'd managed to actually get a date - a real one; with a girl - then the fact that he had a few extra quotes to add some variety to his article. He sighed after a moment, pushing himself up from the bench and stretching.

"Sadly, I have an article to finish and write up before the end of this week. Which means I've got to finish up this interview," he said quietly, trailing off near the end as though he didn't really want to be doing it. He looked back to her, biting his lip in thought. "Since you don't know where it is, like you said, perhaps we could meet up in the Leaky Cauldron? It's in walking distance from there…" He looked to her for approval, clearly trying to stall going into Madame Puddifoot's as long as possible. It was anything but pleasing to him.

Graciela nodded in what was probably a more enthusiastic way than necessary, but she wasn’t going to hide that she was actually excited about this. A date, an actual date! When was the last time she had gone on one? It was…probably sixth year, ay. She was getting old, wasn’t she? Graciela knew of four classmates that were already married or engaged, that put her so very, very behind, didn’t it? Had she…ay, she couldn’t even recall if she’d had her first kiss, that was how unimportant it was to her. She…no, no, she hadn’t yet, as Graciela had a strict ‘no kissing on the first date’ rule that was rarely implemented to its full capacity because she simply didn’t go on second or third dates…there was no real reason behind it, there hadn’t been any boys she really felt like she wanted to continue seeing, and apparently they felt the same way about her.

“Yes, the Leaky Cauldron would be good, I have been there a few times,” which meant that apparating there would be easier than someplace new, which she was very thankful for. “Good luck with your article, you should…you should ask Senhora about---Madame, you should ask Madame Puddifoot about the flower sale, she is very talking about it, lately.”

She smiled up at him, opening her book to start reading again. Not to show that the conversation was over (even though she was quite sure it was going to be soon), but because it was a good way to cut off any awkward goodbyes. Alex had just asked her out on a date in the middle of an interview and had not remembered they’d been classmates after only a few months, it was quite a random thing that might be difficult to excuse yourself from.

"I will. Thanks." He scribbled down the note onto his paper, placing the quill back behind his ear again, and staring at her for a moment as she read her book. It was a relief to him that he had no reason to have to give any goodbyes, and with a much more positive outlook, he headed into the shop to talk to Madame Puddifoot.