"So, you're not bothered that your kids would be half-bloods?"

I nearly choke on the froth of the drink Stuart ordered for me. He doesn't comment on my reaction, elbows up as he saws apart the tough meat of his steak. The first question he's asked me all night popped out of his mouth, and he doesn't look the slightest bit interested in my answer.

"I'm the first non-pureblood you've dated, right?" he asks. Finally, he tears away a chunk and skewers it with his fork.

"Yes," I say.

"I know it's not really appropriate to asks about exes on first dates, but he did kind of just appear alive the other day," Stuart chews roughly on the steak, grimacing as he does.

"He did, yeah," I say.

"Things are over between you too?" Stuart asks. "Just confirming. I mean, I did ask Sullivan, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"Yes," I grit my teeth. "I returned his things today."

"Good," Stuart says, nodding. He takes a sip of his drink before he raises his eyebrows. "Right, the half-blood thing. I only ask because it's one thing to support muggle-born rights, but there aren't many Travers left, so it would be reasonable that you didn't want your name to die out."

My back lifts off the booth, body as rigid as a corpse shortly after death, "I don't usually like advertising that I'm a Travers."

"You shouldn't be bothered by it," Stuart says. "I mean, I'm as much of a McAllister as I am a Bitterwood. Besides, I don't really pay attention to blood status. I mean, if I were to get fired, my first assumption would be that it's because I did a bad job, not because my mum's a muggle."

I grab my glass and sip. The syrup feels sticky on my teeth. I'm going to need to brush them for six hours. God, I'm going to need to purify my entire body.

It was like that after I had sex with Marcus. The morning after, above the joke shop when I realized what I'd done, I had to clean. I took a longer shower than I had after the war, but I'd spent the most time on my teeth. George had left to do his shopping since it had been months since he'd lived in his home and when he got back an hour later, I was still brushing my teeth, blood rushing down my chin and dripping onto the tiles.

"Mum's nice though," Stuart says. "You know, organized, good about her career while being there for us."

All I can do is nod, because otherwise I'll start screaming like a banshee. Maybe when I die, I'll be doomed to become one, haunting this pub to warn witches away from their fish butties.

This is the worst first date ever, even though I've only been on two of them. Fred, I don't know that we ever went on a first date. For once, I think if he were here to see this, he wouldn't be disappointed in me. He'd just laugh. It feels like a prank, like he's going to pop out from behind the bar and we'll laugh it off.

"Did you end up finding work yet?" he asks.

I bite back a frown. At least it's a proper question about me, even though I can feel it's aimed to be a punch if I answer incorrectly, "not yet, but I'm looking. I'm not picky about what I do, so hopefully I find something soon."

Stuart furrows his brow, "I thought you were ambitious."

In my head, I can hear Bronwyn cackling. Fred would maybe disappointed now. He'd think Sullivan was just like my friends, and then I'd have to remind him that they weren't really my friends. We were pack animals, with snarling teeth and only one meal between the five of us. Until there were four. And then three after me.

"Isn't that a whole Slytherin thing?"

"I am ambitious," I snap. "I'd like to get back into potioneering, but you can't just waltz into the ministry and ask for a job, not even when you are one of three brewers in the country who can safely batch liquid luck. I'm also interested in working the Wizengamot again, since I was Miss Senior Administrator for the Office of War Crimes, and..."

My cheeks heat. Miss was never part of the title, but just what Fred said about it.

"Not a lot of upward mobility, unless you become Chief Warlock," Stuart grabs a cloth and wipes his cheeks.

"The upward mobility is societal, not mine," I say. "That's still ambitious. I'm changing the world.

"Through grunt work though," he sighs.

Well, I can handle a little grunt work. That's what I did during the war, not that it was enough. Not that I didn't immediately retreat into old habits.

"Suppose you could head the Wizengamot one d-"

"That isn't the point," I cut him off.

Stuart looks at me. He throws the cloth on his plate and stands.

"Don't think this is going to work out," he says, shuffling out galleons from his pocket to toss on the table. "Sorry, but I don't want to waste your time."

He tips his head and leaves. In the middle of the fucking meal, before I can, he just walks right out of this grimy fucking pub. If I hadn't already been seen in public in pajamas this week, I would start a fight. Genuinely, I'd challenge him to a duel and hex his patchy beard off his face.

Instead, I sit down and resolve to eat as much of the tough food as I can stomach. I order a glass of wine, so I don't have to drink the stupid drink he bought me.

"Make it two."

I clamp my jaw down as Robbie slides into the booth across from me. She doesn't say anything, doesn't even look me in the eye as she shifts out of her cloak. The Wizarding World may be small, but she didn't stumble her way through here by accident. Somehow, Sullivan was clever enough to let it slip. We sit in silence until well after the server has brought over our wine glasses, and I've managed to stomach two more bites of the fish butty.

She makes no move to leave. So, I go up to the bar and order a goblet. Double the amount of wine, so full to the brim. I sip it as I walk back over to the table so not a single drop spills. Robbie eyes me, carefully.

"I'm not going to over do it," I tell her.

Robbie shrugs, "what's the special occasion?"

"A successful first date," I lean my goblet forward. She lifts her glass and they clink together, before we drop each gulp down the booze.

Robbie clears out her throat, and then mocks Stuart's put on posh voice, "here here."

I snort, not quite making it up to cover my nose in time, but I don't care. To join me, Robbie orders herself a goblet too, and we finally catch up on Spain, whispering even with a charm up to turn our voices into buzzing sounds for anyone who gets too close. She blinks the entire time, sipping on her wine glass.

She hasn't brought up Cedric. It feels wrong that Cedric shouldn't live when Fred can, but there were witnesses. Robbie doesn't bring him up. She never has, since Fred's funeral.

"He still loves you," Robbie's nose has the flush she always has when she has had exactly the most she should. She scrunches her nose, tucking her chair in forward. "He wrote me a letter, said he can't wait to see his sister-in-law again."

"Maybe he thinks now that George is single, you two will finally get together," I shrug.

Robbie scrunches her nose, "I like Sullivan."

"He's so boring."

"He's easy," Robbie smiles. "Nice, friendly, protective, caring, and it's not hard. Not everything has to be a test. Dating should be easy. You and Fred were easy-"

"We were anything but-"

"You were inevitable," Robbie takes my hand, massaging the love line on my palm. "It's actually the only precise thing about divination."

I let her hold my hand, if only because I'm a bit buzzed.

When we leave the pub, I try not to trip as I walk down the cobblestone in my heels. Robbie and I both are too intoxicated to apparate, and the air isn't cool enough to sober me up as quickly as I need. Walking is easier than Fred and me. We had barely only begun to finally talk to each other about things. He always despised that I wasn't straight forward.

"No," I stop in my tracks. Robbie grabs my arm gently and I turn to look at her. "No way. This is ridiculous. I'm too old to be playing games."

Robbie starts to smile.

"We need to march over there now!" I decide. "He needs to know that when I say we aren't getting back together, I mean it!"

~~~~~

Pissing myself laughing at her. Oh Larkin. The next chapter is absolutely one of my favourites and I'm so excited to have it out for you! As always, let me know what you think, or if you have any predictions! Stuart Bitterwood, oh to date you.