He promised I would find a little solace [Michael Evans]

For the first time in a long time, Rosaline had absolutely no plans for her birthday. Conall had seemed to vanish, and her heart broke at the thought of her mother, Alis, Steffan, Cabhan, and Basil as well as her other cousins at Hogwarts. She had been going about her day as normal, and tried not to seem too bothered. It was not until she and Michael Evans had been exiting their department that she had even mentioned that it was her birthday.

She hadn't counted on Michael offering to take her to dinner. The two, being trapped in the nightmare of PR work together, had finally at least reached the point of being civil to one another. Still, she would have never actually expected him to want to spend time with her after their obligatory eight hours. All the same, she greatly appreciated the gesture and had accepted. It wasn't a date or anything, after all. Her family had no need to be cross with her for having dinner with a mud--muggleborn. If anything, they'd talk about work. Though the two of them did appear to have a bit more in common than she had previously ever considered to be possible. Hopefully that meant that his taste would be up to par with her own. Rosaline had never eaten at a restaurant where there was not a dress code. However, it was not as if he had much time to make a reservation. She had offered him the suggestion that he should mention her name and that perhaps one would open up. It was certainly a better suggestion than simply leaving work and going someplace from there. In her work clothes? She shuddered at the thought. Normally, she would have also shuddered at the thought of dinner with a muggleborn for her birthday instead of with a potential love interest. However, times had changed. And, really, Michael was very sweet for even offering. Especially considering how their work arrangement had first begun

So, instead of her pencil skirt and sensible blouse, she had donned a little black dress. Black dragonskin stilettos covered her feet, and she had a handbag on her arm to match. She had darkened her makeup with red lipstick and a bit of black eyeshadow. There. Now she was ready for dinner. As she was examining herself in the mirror, she heard a knock at the door. Nim scampered off to answer it, and she followed close behind. The little house elf pulled the door open, and Rosaline greeted Michael with a smile.

"Hello. Would you like to come in, or would you rather we go on straight away?" Why did he make her feel so bloody awkward?

If someone had told Michael a month ago that he'd be willingly spending an evening with Rosaline Bane, he would have laughed right in their face before telling them firmly where they could shove that idea. Despite that, he found himself at her doorstep, surprising himself. She hadn't been so bad, really, once he'd loosed her up with a few knock-down drag-outs. The icebreaker argument was always the hardest. Michael wasn't sure what it was about watching a beautiful woman turn red-faced and yell until she was hoarse, but it always alleviated some tension. From then on, he'd given her some respect and—dare he say it—managed some in return.

Truth be told, he liked Rose enough. She was beautiful, confident, intelligent, and all of that was clear for anyone to see. What they didn't know was that she was also rather witty and had a good sense of humor. He took his teasing in stride and was quick with quips. He liked talking to her, as long as they weren't talking about serious things. As far as work was concerned, she was openly supportive of progressive politics. They spoke publicly about muggleborn integration and social justice, but Michael had known from the day one that this whole ordeal with the Banes was a PR stunt. It was no secret that the family had dark connections, or that they, themselves practiced the dark arts. Truth was, Michael didn't care. If this was going to pay the bills, so be it. He was just lucky that he'd managed to find a partner that he didn't hate.

It had been the first week when Michael realized that he and Rose lived in close quarters. He had accompanied her to her doorway with an umbrella during a particularly nasty storm. She lived a mere block away from his own apartment, but he hadn't been back since then and he hadn't planned on it. She had casually mentioned her birthday, and Michael had spit out the offer before he even really knew what he was saying. Before he could recant what he knew was a laughable offer, she had accepted.

Truthfully, Michael had no other plans. Most nights consisted of reheated takeout in front of the telly. He always told himself that he'd go for a run after dinner, but he never did. He lifted a few weights instead, daydreamed about stories he wanted to write but never actually wrote them, and then climbed into bed alone. It wasn't a luxurious life and it wasn't interesting, but it worked for him most nights. He liked not having to pick up his laundry or wear trousers in the house.... but sometimes it got lonely to have no one, not even a cat, to cuddle up with. Michael really needed a friend, even if said friend was the last person he'd ever expect.

So, there he was at her door. He'd stopped at the corner market for a chocolate frog and a card, a token gift, but had offered to pick up the tab. If she was anywhere as nervous as he was about their outing (which was absolutely not a date), their bar tab alone would probably be more than his usual weekly food budget. Considering the place he'd scored the last-minute reservation (thank you Banes!), his work attire wasn't completely appropriate. Also, Rose's insistence that she change made him feel as though he needed to change anyway, so he had dressed up a bit. Even so, he was still surprised as she opened the door wearing that little black fuck me dress.  He cleared his throat as he tried with limited success to shift his gaze up to her eyes.

“Either way is good.” He shrugged, acting casual. "The earliest they could get us is in just over an hour, but I figure we could sit at the bar and drink overpriced cocktails until the table's ready, unless you had a better idea." He could think of a few. No, no he couldn't. Snap out of it, Michael.

This is not a date. Rosaline repeated this mantra in her head upon seeing the chocolates and the card in his hand. Her brother, Lorcan, would have an absolute fit if he thought that it even might be. He had been in prison since the war, and had only been out for a short time; since about September when Hogwarts had seemed to vanish. Immediately he had stepped in as her moral guide, as her mother had prior to her disappearance. He had even come home to her house in London on Serpentine Alley: a street where many well-to-do Pureblood families had homes in the city. She preferred her rural, island home in Wales. However, for business purposes, she spent a majority of her time at 1307 Serpentine Alley. It was an old Victorian townhouse, and filled with secret rooms and old tunnels.

Actually, it was probably for the best if they did not linger around the house. That was the absolute last thing that she needed. "Actually, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Nim, if you would, please?" With that, the little house elf scampered quickly off and then back again with her handbag. "Thank you, dear."

She turned back to Michael, with that. Was he used to seeing House Elves? It was almost unimaginable, how muggles and muggleborns lived. He had told her about all sorts of bizarre muggle inventions. The things that one must put themselves through, and all because they cannot use magic. She almost felt sorry for them. Almost. Giving her companion a small smile, she stepped outside to join him before closing the door behind her. Lorcan was upstairs in his room, and so she didn't bother with any of her usual locks and wards. If anyone got into that house, with her brother there, then she would feel sorry for them rather than fearful of them. Azkaban had changed him.

"We can apparate from around the corner, here, in the garden. Even if there were muggles about, they couldn't see us from there." She offered Michael another small smile, with that, and led him toward an iron gate. In the summertime, the garden was beautiful. It was a shame that he had to see it as it was all dying. Then again, she wasn't sure if he'd notice it regardless. He seemed to be a bit... distracted. She smirked at the thought. Perhaps the dress was a bit much? Sometimes she got a bit carried away with trying to look nice, or so she had been told. Several of her friends had accused her of not knowing how to dress like a "normal person." She assumed, of course, that that was because she was not a "normal person." She was a rich girl, a socialite, and a part of the Bane legacy whether she liked it or not.

Stopping near the rose bushes, Rosaline turned to him and extended her hand. "Are you ready?"