It had been more than a year since the night he'd met the beautiful Corina Dimitrova, as he'd come to learn her name, but that didn't mean he had forgotten about her. He'd spent days trying to understand what had happened that night and months trying to track her down but finally he had. A lot of things had changed since the night they shared at Leg's Avenue including the fact that he'd been on a couple of dates with Blo but he couldn't explain the feeling he felt when he thought about Corina. Sure they'd both been under the effects of a pretty strong Love potion at the time but that didn't mean he didn't harbour true feelings for her. Or at the very least he was carrying a large curiosity to find out exactly what he really felt for her, without the assistance of alcohol and potions.
That night things had gotten pretty hot and heavy and Gregoire was some what bashful thinking about exactly how far they had almost gone. Sure he'd of slept with her if she allowed it, and never in a million years would he of thought badly about the experience, but it wasn't something he did much anymore these days. As he got older he rarely had one night stands and even less did he get so inebriated that he couldn't remember a witches name the next day but potions had a way of doing that to a guy. They'd gotten a booth that night, it took all of five minutes to fall in love, and then the snogging session really began. He remembered bits and pieces of it, like waves of a memory that wasn't entirely his or a psychedelic dream but he did remember that she had been a glorious kisser.
Thankfully before either one of them could make a decision they might have come to regret she pulled away from him and Gregoire took it as a sign. He had gotten up as fast as he could from that table, ever nerve ending in his body telling him not to leave the private booth they'd claimed, and trudged outside. The crisp air of the April night hit him like a splash of cold water and he was able to calm down a little. Once his heart beat returned to something somewhat normal he went back inside but found only disappointment and loneliness waiting for him. She had disappeared and though he hadn't remembered much from that night he had remembered her name: Corina. For the next months he tried to track her down through mutual acquaintances. He didn't have a last name but he knew she liked to dance and she had a thick accent, thicker than his even. It wasn't much to go on but the artist had been determined and finally he'd gotten the answer he was looking for.
Almost as soon as he found the information he apparated to Belushya Guba, and extremely foreign wizarding community he'd only hear stories about until now. The setting was faintly familiar as the wizarding world was quite small but the smells and the languages were entirely strange to him. He passed by some shops and recognized the merchandise in the windows but he couldn't read an inch of the signs. It reminded him of the first time he'd been to Diagon Alley after growing up in France, it hit him with a warming sense of nostalgia as he pulled a map from his baggy black jeans. He tugged the bright yellow hooded sweater back in place before following the hand drawn map in his tattooed hand. Apparently she had a dance studio in the district and Gregoire was astounded by the butterflies that built in his stomach as he saw it from across the street. "This is it Gman. You can do this." He pepped himself up in quiet French and ignored the look he got by a wizard passing by as he did. Walking to the door long arms turned the handle and a bell rang above him making him smile.
She had been dancing and he kind of wished he'd waited a minute to make noise, so he could watch her, but it was too late now. As he moved further into the room she turned to face him and he grinned at her. "You are a hard witch to find." He said with a low chuckle before chewing on his lip ring somewhat nervously. Nerves weren't something he was totally used to, mostly he stayed in his comfort zone, so he didn't have to deal with them much but he welcomed them now. He pulled off the black baseball cap from his hat, using the rim to scratch the tattooed and shaved scalp below it before placing it back on his head. "How have you been?" He wanted to talk about the elephant in the room, the love potion they both got spiked with, the make out session, and why she'd disappeared, but of course first the formalities had to be observed. His paint covered, tattered and torn, ridiculously colored clothing and head to toe masterpiece of magical tattoos might of suggested otherwise but Monsieur Gregoire Cartier could be quite civilized.
