dinner & diatribes [maja]

february 2003

Fergie tugged at his shirt collar and took another sip from his glass of water. He was waiting for his date to arrive -- half expecting nobody to turn up at all -- and starting to regret telling the waiter he’d wait before getting a proper drink.

Edith had set this up, convinced him that her boyfriend’s sister was someone Fergie should at the very least meet. He supposed it was better, at least, that it wasn’t a double date; it would just be the two of them, without Edith and Elias watching on. He didn’t know Elias well -- or at all, really -- but couldn’t imagine he’d enjoy joining Honey on a date... if she ever started dating like a normal person.

But he knew almost nothing about Elias’ sister. He’d asked as much as he felt polite asking of Edith; does she speak English (because he didn’t speak German), how old is she (“early twenties”) -- stopped short of asking if she was pretty, because he didn’t want Edith to take that the wrong way. Fergie thought looks weren’t a deciding factor for him anyway, but he’d coincidentally only dated women he thought were gorgeous -- he’d argue that that was simply because he thought all women were beautiful, but that sounded awfully cheesy and he might almost prefer to sound shallow about it all than desperate.

The Scotsman lifted his glass to his lips again, taking another drink because his mouth kept going dry the longer he was left alone to overthink everything. Ken had recommended this place and Fergie -- who usually met his girlfriends by accident rather than by going on an official date -- had agreed that Indian sounded nice. What could go wrong with a nice curry?

He looked up as he set his water back down and his eyes met hers mid-swallow -- well, he assumed it was her because she was being led to his table by the waiter. Fergie cleared his throat with a quiet cough and got to his feet. She was stunning; he made a mental note to thank Edith when he next saw her.

"Hi." Hi -- really? He held his hand out to take hers, then leant in to greet her with a shaky kiss on her cheek, trying not to think too much about it or about how good-looking she was -- beyond his league, surely. "Fergie," he said in introduction, letting go of her hand and sitting back down, unable to stop gawping. "You um, find the place alright?"

@Maja Dörfler

How had she managed to let Edith talk her into this?!

‘Blind dates’ were hardly Maja’s thing (neither was dating itself, really, but who’s keeping track) – and yet somehow she’d allowed her brother’s girlfriend to wheedle her into having dinner with an effective stranger while Maja was visiting Elias in London for the weekend. She’d told the German witch nothing except that he was her friend’s younger brother (mid-twenties, apparently) and that he worked for the British Ministry, but not which department. Surprises were not exactly Maja’s thing, either – and to add another layer of complexity she hadn’t been given the name of said restaurant, only the address.

Still grumbling to herself as she made her way through London, she came to a full stop as she squinted at the address of her alleged destination on the storefront before her. There was a sign on the door proclaiming ‘Authentic Indian Cuisine’ which caught her eye first; there was more to the name of the place, certainly, but this is what she’d honed-in on. In truth she’d never had it before, and so the experience would be yet another surprise… but had to at least keep an open mind, right?

Straightening her dress unnecessarily, Maja took a breath, lifted her chin, rolled her shoulders back, and pushed open the door to the establishment. Upon reaching the host/hostess stand, she gave Edith’s name as instructed (she hadn’t even provided his name, damn her) and was promptly led to a relatively quiet corner where a dark-haired man was seated. He glanced up as she approached, and Maja got a quick look at him as he got to his feet. He was decidedly handsome, with broad shoulders and a strong jaw – which, at present, appeared slack if not slightly agape. Maja could feel his grey eyes intently on her, and couldn’t quite decide if it made her feel like preening or slightly uncomfortable. Trusting that Edith wouldn’t set her up with a womanizing jerk, she assumed the former.

Taking his proffered hand, she accepted the greeting and returned it. His cheek was rough with groomed stubble but warm, and he smelled pleasantly of some sort of cologne. “Maja,” she replied smoothly, offering a polite smile and taking the seat across from him.
“You um, find the place alright?”
Was that lilt Irish? Or Scottish? Maja had always had a devil of a time discerning between them.
“I did, thank you. Have you eaten here before?” Her English had quite a bit of practice, but a knowledgeable ear could pick up hints of her own accent with relative ease.

For want of something to occupy her hands, Maja took a sip of water, watching her dinner companion over the rim of her glass as she did so. In addition to his accent, she tried to guess a few other things about him in her head as she waited. Ministry department? Job title? Dog person, cat person, neither, or both?

Fergie adjusted his napkin back onto his lap now that he had retaken his seat. “Maja,” he repeated carefully, wanting to commit it to memory. Fergie watched her sit and picked up his glass of water again (why was his mouth so dry?).

After a sip he shook his head lightly, still swallowing. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted, “a friend recommended it and— do you like Indian?” he asked suddenly, it having only just now occurred to him that Indian could be a divisive sort of food. And not very conducive to good breath, either. Not that he thought she would let him kiss her yet anyway – they had only just met. But even so, curry was the sort of thing that oozed out of your pores. He’d have to make sure not to order anything too hot—

Merlin, he needed to stop overthinking everything.

The waiter who had been topping up Fergie’s water as he’d waited for Maja appeared at their table and handed them each dinner menus, and a drinks list, then departed once more. Fergie looked quickly at the latter before handing it over to his date (he wasn’t so prehistoric as to choose for the lady, and he sort of wanted to see if she would order alcohol before he did so for himself – even if he was dying for a beer).

“So, you’re over from Germany?” he asked politely, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to,” he offered, trying his best at making conversation and at not staring at her so openly. But she was very easy to look at.

“Edith, er—” He smiled, eyes averted and cheeks flushing as he let out a light laugh; “She didn’t tell me much about you sorry,” he apologised. “So if I ask too many questions just tell me to be quiet and eat my naan.”

He repeated her name, and she offered a small smile and a singular nod to let him know he’d pronounced it correctly. She supposed it did help that he had heard it before he’d seen it; over the course of the past few years at her job, she’d noticed that English-speakers who had only seen her name in writing (and had never heard it pronounced) often botched it the first time they did meet face-to-face. It had ruffled her feathers early on, but now she mostly took it in-stride.

Maja tilted her head slightly, considering. Recommendations from friends were always a good sign.
“I… don’t believe I’ve ever had it, in truth. Though I’ve heard good things,” she added lamely, ignoring the brief plummeting feeling in her stomach. She was not, in fact, the most adventurous eater – though she had come a long way from the exceptionally picky days of her youth.

In the interim she accepted the food and drink menus from the waiter and Fergie, respectively, casually perusing both in the brief silence that followed. She could go for a martini – but perhaps a bit later, whenever they placed their food orders. And, speaking of food… Maja felt her eyes glaze over as she scanned the menu. She hadn’t the faintest idea what three-quarters of the options even were, and wasn’t even sure if she could pronounce them correctly

She was actually relieved when her date made an attempt to restart conversation; she’d confront the food situation eventually.

“So, you’re over from Germany? I’ve never been, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“I am,” she confirmed, returning his smile. “I am biased, of course, but it’s a lovely country. Each city and region has its own character. Not to mention, Oktoberfest is always a popular event.” Maja wasn’t a ‘raucous’ type by any means, largely preferring to keep well away from large [drunken] crowds. Many people, however, seemed to enjoy that sort of environment.

“She didn’t tell me much about you, sorry. So if I ask too many questions just tell me to be quiet and eat my naan.”

Maja, too, was ‘flying blind’; Edith had told her next-to-nothing.
“I would not dream of it,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Very well, then. My family is from Hanover, though my sister Lea and I moved to Berlin not too long ago. She’s a fashion designer; I work for the German Ministry, as do both of our parents and our eldest brother, Elias, who has been in London for the past several years as a junior diplomat: he is how Edith and I know each other. And our youngest brother, Jürgen, is in his Sixth Year at Durmstrang.”

She lifted her glass for another sip of water, then. It was always easiest for her to start by talking about her family before divulging too much about herself. As a rather private individual, Maja was perpetually weighing how much personal information to voluntarily share; she had quickly discovered that family was a safe starting point.

“And your family? From here in London, or elsewhere?”
Belatedly remembering that there was bread on the table, Maja reached out and plucked a piece from the basket. ‘Naan’, he’d called it. In any case, it smelled delicious. She pulled off a bite-sized piece to sample as she listened, laying the remainder on her plate.

She smiled, so he assumed he hadn’t butchered her name when he’d echoed it back at her. A small wave of relief washed over him. He still got flashbacks to that time he’d tried to pronounce Ksyusha and sounded more like he was having an epilectic fit (they had not made it to a second date).

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Fergie realised he was gawking a little at her admission and he sat back in his chair. “Sorry, I just-- it’s a bit of a staple here,” he grinned, “curry and a pint on a Friday.” Although a pub curry was usually something safe, like a korma or tikka masala, and he suspected a damn side milder than what he’d be served in a proper Indian restaurant.

Fergie lowered his eyes to scan his menu, in between sneaking glances at Maja. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel intimidated by a woman, but she really was gorgeous and he felt like he’d caught a sudden fever with the way his skin was warming up.

He listened attentively as she spoke, trying not to be distracted by her accent and actually retain the information. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s something you have to experience at least once,” he said of Oktoberfest. “I like a good German beer but I’m not sure I could pull off the outfit,” he joked, then flushed because why had he thought to put that mental image in her head?

The Scotsman grinned lopsidedly, still blushing slightly. Fergie didn’t know where Hanover was, but he’d heard of Berlin so that was something. “A fashion designer? Wow.” It crossed his mind to ask if Maja modelled for her sister, but he had the good fortune to think before he spoke, most of the time, and he didn’t have the confidence to pull a line like that off. Besides, Maja was still describing her family and-- Durmstrang. Fergie had heard bits and pieces about the school -- not to mention it cropping up here and there in the Prophet lately. He assumed if Edith was dating Maja’s brother, though, that Maja’s family mustn’t be one of those Durmstrang families. Hopefully.

“And what do you do at the Ministry?” he queried, matching her and picking up his water to sip at it.

Fergie didn’t think he’d ever been accused of being from London. He grinned sheepishly. “Er, no, we’re from Scotland. Hogsmeade, actually -- it’s the village next to Hogwarts.” He chewed on his lip softly, unsure how to describe it if she’d never been (which, he was assuming she hadn’t). ”Fully wizarding,” he added, figuring that probably covered it. “My sister Honey runs the sweetshop there, my Dad before her -- with my Mum, too -- but they’ve moved to Spain for their retirement.”

“I work at the British Ministry,” he continued, “I’m a Muggle Liaison Officer.” He watched her face for a reaction -- that Durmstrang education casting small doubts in his mind despite his earlier self-reassurance that Elias -- Maja’s brother -- was dating Edith, a muggleborn. Fergie had been watching her eat the naan the entire time he’d been talking and now that she’d taken a bit he felt like it was fair game; he tore off a corner and put it on his side plate, breaking off a smaller piece to put in his mouth and wishing he could just eat the whole thing.

The waiter was making his way back towards them and Fergie glanced at the drinks menu she’d set down. “Would you like a drink?”

She felt her polite smile freeze briefly on her face at his clearly baffled reaction. Was it really that unusual that she hadn’t yet tried this particular cuisine? But then he recovered himself, and Maja nodded her acknowledgement. His next comment brought out a bit more of a genuine reaction as he alluded to lederhosen; casual digs at her country’s traditional dress used to annoy her in her younger years, but she had learned to let that go.

“And what do you do at the Ministry?”

“Foreign Affairs,” she replied, interlacing her fingers and dropping her hands to her lap. Maja had been in a strange limbo of trying to move up within her department, but not having many avenues to do so. Not for the first time she had been questioning whether, in her ambition, she had become too myopic in her career trajectory and failed to think more broadly.
But that was hardly a ‘blind date’ topic of discussion, let alone really any topic of discussion for the very private Maja.
“This business with Sweden has been… well, I am sure you know.” Politics was another topic she had little desire to bring up today. Hopefully he wouldn’t pursue it further.

“Er, no, we’re from Scotland.”

She felt the tell-tale slow flush of embarrassment begin to spread under the (mercifully turtlenecked) collar of her dress.
“My mistake,” she put in as smoothly and as airily as she could manage; Merlin, she hated being wrong. “I am still developing an ear for the U.K., and often forget that the British Ministry is rather unique in that it is comprised of more than one country.”

She seized on the mention of the wizarding village instead, and nodded.
“Beluysha Guba is the village near Durmstrang— rather,” she corrected herself, suddenly remembering the relocation, “the village that was near Durmstrang, when it was in Novaya Zemlya.” It vaguely occurred to her that Professor Karkaroff would have been enraged by her breach of disclosure; Second Year Maja would never have dreamed of divulging Durmstrang’s beloved secrecy. Nowadays she couldn’t really be fussed about it.
‘Before that, when it was in Kaliningrad, the village was Primorsk. Now it is in Luleå, and the village is Döttrar Vik.’ She didn’t say either of these things aloud, however.

Maja tilted her head slightly, intrigued. A Muggle Liaison Officer? Fitting, then, that Edith had orchestrated this. She was about to ask him more about his work, if only because it was polite to do so – but before she could he asked if she wanted a drink, and she nodded.
“I think yes. And you?” Her clear blue eyes dropped briefly down to the menu and scanned it, pleasantly surprised by the variety. There were a handful of what she presumed to be local specials that she didn’t recognize, both cocktails and drafts. She also wasn’t entirely sure what would go well with Indian cuisine… though from the sound of it, ‘a pint’ was the usual pairing.

“I will try this one, please,” she told the waiter, pointing to what she assumed was a pale ale of some kind. Once the pair were alone – well, relatively speaking – again, Maja turned her attention back to the Scottish man sitting across from her.

“Tell me, if you would, how it is that you know Edith?” Her first suspicion was through school – but she wasn’t quite certain as to how old he was, so if not that then perhaps through the Ministry somehow.

Maja said she was in Foreign Affairs and Fergie’s eyebrows shot up, impressed. He was about to ask more when she brought up Sweden -- something he probably would have gotten to if left to lead the conversation. He drew back in his seat and nodded. “Something, yeah,” he finished her sentence, picking up that she didn’t really want to get into politics -- he hoped out of politeness rather than because she was in favour of Swedish policies.

Fergie grinned abashedly; “No bother, don’t worry about it,” he waved her off. It was a deep insult to call a Scotsman English, but he was willing to forgive her (one guess why). “Ay-- Yeah,”  he corrected himself, attempting to use his Liaison voice instead of his natural twang (he didn’t lose his accent completely, but slowed a little and took his time pronouncing things more carefully). "It can get a wee bit messy with Ireland but it works well otherwise, I think." Having the Republic of Ireland as an independent country but Northern Ireland as part of the United Kingdom had been a whole thing when going into the Ministry, because of how Muggle laws impacted the wizarding world, but he was reluctant to bore Maja to tears with the ins and outs of it all.

The Scotsman sat up a little straighter--as if it would help him follow along with what she was telling him--and had another sip of water. “I-- So it's in Sweden now, right?” he asked, meaning Durmstrang (and therefore the nearest wizarding settlement), doubting himself, and then wishing he hadn’t latched onto that part of the conversation because they’d only just silently agreed not to talk about Sweden.

The waiter arrived to take their drinks order and Maja ordered by pointing at the menu, which didn’t help Fergie determine if she was going alcoholic or not, let alone whether she’d picked beer, wine, or a cocktail. He decided to just go with what he really wanted: a pint. “A Kingfisher,” he ordered, having seen the menu said that it was an Indian beer, at least.

Fergie finished the last of his water, then lowered his glass back to the table. “Er, through work," he answered plainly, before recognising that that didn't offer much to the conversation. “Same Department-- Well, not the same office, but both in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.” He wasn’t sure how much Maja knew about Edith, even if she was like a sort of sister-in-law. “We did a few jobs together.”

"Do you like it here? I mean, do you see yourself staying?" He had meant it innocently enough, but given the circumstances it could be misconstrued that he would only be interested if she was -- and that he was assuming she was interested in him and-- Merlin, where was that beer?

“So it's in Sweden now, right?”
Maja nodded in silent assent. Luleå had seemed a nice enough little port town when she’d visited Jürgen a few months ago.

She smiled politely as he elaborated on how he knew Edith.
“I see.”
Both in Magical Accidents & Catastrophes… she knew bits and pieces of the nature of Edith’s work, and when she thought about it she could indeed see how it would be useful to have a Muggle Liaison Officer on standby.

Maja was caught a bit off-guard by the rather abrupt shift in topic, – had she touched a nerve somehow, in asking about the specifics? – but recovered herself quickly enough.
“Well, I am still in Berlin and have not spent a great deal of consecutive time here… usually only a few days at a time at most over the past few years, when I visit my brother.”

She hesitated; how much more to tell him? Maja was overall a very private person and especially did not like to disclose half-formed or tentative plans that were no longer under her control, in the event that things did not go in her favor. Precious few people knew about her pending law school application (which she was due to hear a response from in the next month or two), and she rather liked it that way; but, on the other hand, who would he even tell that would make a difference? She supposed she’d care more if 1) her application was not accepted and 2) she ended up seeing him again and he asked about it… but even if she did see him again, perhaps he wouldn’t remember.

For the time being, she settle for finishing her thought with: “I have been considering relocating from Berlin… but it is too soon to say at the moment. From what I have seen of London, I have enjoyed it.”
That would have to do for now – noncommittal enough that her plans were still secret, but still truthful. Maja lifted her water glass and watched him over the rim, speaking again after she’d taken a sip.
“And you?”

“Oh, right,” he said. If she was based in Berlin, and she only came here occasionally and only for a few days at a time, he had to wonder what Edith had been thinking in suggesting they meet. He wasn’t averse to trying something long distance, but he would have preferred to— He was doing it again, getting far too ahead of himself. “Sorry,” he said, “I thought maybe you came here with work a lot,” he explained.

The Scotsman perked up a little more when she mentioned relocating -- or considering it, at least. “Really?” He sat forward slightly in his seat. “Well, there’s more than just London,” he smiled. “Depends if you’re more into city life or the countryside.”

The waiter returned with their drinks before he could answer her. Fergie was itching to pick up his beer and get a good few swallows down his throat but the man had lingered, apparently wanting their food orders. Fergie gestured at Maja (ladies first), and tried to quickly skim what she’d picked to see if he wanted to get the same, but the pressure of ordering got to him and he went with his original choice: “Can I get a Rogan Josh, please? With a plain naan.”

They were left again and Fergie took the opportunity to have a sip (or swallow) of his beer finally. “I like London,” he said, picking their conversation up from before. “I prefer Scotland, but,” he shrugged, “this is more convenient for work, and mates. And there’s lots to do,” he added, though as soon as he’d said it wished he hadn’t because he wasn’t sure the last time he’d ‘done’ something other than go to a pub.

“Not at all,” she replied easily to his apology (one that she wasn’t entirely was warranted, anyways, as he hadn’t said anything off-color). “My position with the Ministry does not include much of the way of travel, unfortunately… so I take advantage of my brother’s, like a good sibling.”

“Depends if you’re more into city life or the countryside.”

Maja wasn’t entirely sure if this was intended as a question or not, but there was a break in conversation so she took it as such.
“Both, I think, if that is an answer,” she mused. “I do enjoy the convenience of city life… but the suburbs are a pleasant reprieve from the noise and congestion to which to retire in the evenings."

She then became acutely aware of two things: that the waiter had returned with their drinks and seemed to want their food orders, and that she’d hardly even looked at the food menu and thus had no earthly idea of what to order. Fergie gestured politely in her direction; reluctant to ask for more time (for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate) and with a rather uncharacteristic leap-of-faith, she told the waiter: “Your most popular dish, please.” Asking about the intensity of spice unfortunately had not occurred to her.

Fergie spoke up again and she sipped her drink, watching him over the rim.
“Oh? What is it that you prefer about Scotland, compared to here?” She was also curious about what ‘lots to do’ entailed, especially if London could potentially be her new home in the next few months.

Like a good sibling. Fergie smiled, knowingly.

Maja elected for both, and he nodded. He had grown up in a remote wizarding village, miles from anywhere else (other than Hogwarts castle), and now lived in one of the busiest cities in the world. He could understand liking both, and thought that, truthfully, he did too. There were certainly pros and cons — the breathtaking landscapes of rural Scotland were unmatched, in his opinion, but you couldn’t get a cheeky McDonalds on the way home from a late night at the pub.

It was only once the waiter had left them that Fergie realised Maja had ordered a beer, too; he smiled to himself.

Fergie had another sip of his beer—it was better than he’d expected—then licked his lips and grinned gently, almost abashedly. “Well, it’s a bit of pride, I think. You’re always a bit more patriotic about where you came from,” he said — and from experience of talking to other non-Londonders who’d moved to the capital, that was almost always the case.

But what did he prefer about Scotland? “It’s a bit more rugged. Or, it is when you’re not in the bigger cities — Edinburgh and Glasgow. But even then, there’s a different sort of feel about them up there. I dunno, I can’t really explain it.” There was a deep-rooted connection to Scotland, in his chest, that he couldn’t put into words — nor did he really want to try, to a relative stranger. “People are a bit friendlier, I think, too.”

“The weather, ironically.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a funny little smile. “It gets a bit toasty here in the summer. I’m from the highlands so it’s a lot cooler, even in July and August. Have you been?”

Pride and patriotism, for starters, from the sound of it. Maja nodded slowly; she could understand that, the internal bias for one’s home country. She hadn’t seen enough of England or Scotland to be able to know what he was describing specifically, but she could still appreciate what he meant.
He tried to elaborate further but found he couldn’t; she nodded again and waved a hand gently in understanding. His passion for Scotland was evident, and she enjoyed watching his expression as he spoke of it. Maja wondered how much of this enthusiasm carried over into his work, and what other interests he had.

Her eyebrows went up when he mentioned that he missed the weather. Didn’t it rain there even more than London?
“Toasty?” she echoed, offering a small smile of amusement. “I'm afraid you may not much fancy Germany, then – less rain, granted, but overall similar temperatures as here. In Hanover and in Berlin, at least.”

He asked if she’d been to the Highlands just as she took a sip of beer, and she shook her head as she lowered her glass.
“I have not,” she admitted a moment later. “I have seen pictures, though, and can appreciate what you mean about the landscape. Though I am certain pictures don’t do it justice – they rarely do, I’ve found.”

Maja picked up her naan from her plate and tore off another piece, chewing thoughtfully as she listened to his rejoinder. When there was a natural lull in the conversation, she circled back to her earlier curiosity.
“You had said something about ‘lots to do’ – anything unique to London that I should know about?”
It was a major city, so she expected the usual array: good food, theater and the arts, museums, and so on… but she was hoping for something a bit more specific.

Maja suggested that he might not enjoy Germany – or Germany’s weather, at least. Fergie smiled apologetically. “Perhaps not in the summer,” he countered. He’d seen photographs of the Bavarian Alps in the winter and though he didn’t think the pictures told the full story, he thought he’d manage just fine in snowier climes – or indeed, he could be convinced to suffer through a slightly warmer late summer for the experience of Oktoberfest and all the German ales.

Maja mentioned having seen photographs of the Scottish Highlands and Fergie grinned lopsidedly, privately amused that they’d both defaulted to photos of each other’s countries. “Aye,” he agreed. “And you don’t see all the midges in the photographs,” he joked lamely; he quickly picked up his beer and had a sip.

Fergie set his glass back down and–seeing that Maja had started on hers–tore off some of his naan to eat. Mid-chew he paused to give her query his full attention, then resumed chewing as he considered a response. He swallowed. “Well,” he started, thinking about the museums (his favourite was the Victoria and Albert Museum), the royal castles and palaces, the parks and gardens, “depends what you’re into, but…”


[ out ]

The corner of her mouth turned up with amusement at his rejoinder, though it flickered slightly with bemusement. You didn’t see all the what? But Fergie had moved on, and so she made a mental note to ask what on Earth ‘midges’ were (though by his tone, she had surmised they were something pesky or otherwise undesirable).

Her ears pricked with interest as he began to list off his “to-do” recommendations. She leaned forward slightly to encourage him, again watching him over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of beer, preparing to make more mental notes.

[[ end! ]]