Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit

Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the beta work.

13.

The Starlight Plate

Sylvie found herself rather lonely for the next few days. But she managed to fill the void by hanging out with Jacobs. And her Quidditch and modeling commitments kept her busy enough. Things went well with the first few events with the French team. Sure, she was subjected to some good-natured teasing, but nothing out of the ordinary for the newbie.

A few weeks into summer, after an optional team workout, Quintus walked up to her while she was sitting in her cubby doing her best to glare at her hair as she brushed a tangle out of it.

"I owe you dinner," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, not remembering anything of that nature.

"I won the golf at Alton Towers," he responded.

"Right," she said. She paused for a moment as they stared at each other before speaking. "I want to dress up. Make it someplace fancy."

"Uh, alright," Quintus said.

"Get me at eight," Sylvie responded before heading to the team Floo to return home. When she got home she looked through her closet, frowning and wondering why she said that to Quintus as it became apparent she had nothing worth wearing out. Which was concerning because her enchanted closet was the size of a small boutique and filled with anything she could have possibly wanted from Gladrags in addition to whatever Aunt Fleur sent her for holidays.

She paced through it for a moment before frowning.

"Kreacher," she whined. The elf appeared at her side an instant later.

"Yes mistress?" she asked.

"I have a date and nothing to wear," she frowned. The elf looked at her with a surprising amount of alarm, his eyes going wide. The elf immediately started looking around the room. After a couple of minutes he disappeared only to reappear a few moments later with an elaborate corseted white wedding dress with gold filigree on the bodice. Her first thought was 'damn' and that the Blacks certainly didn't cheap out on weddings. But also gross, there was no way she was ever putting that on.

"Old mistresses' favorite dress?" Kreacher suggested holding it up to her. "She only wore it once but liked to stare at it."

"It's a wedding dress, Kreacher. Ideally you only wear it once," Sylvie said.

"Oh," Kreacher said. Then he held it up higher in an attempt to be helpful. "Mistress would look good in it."

"I'm sure," Sylvie said. "But not the kind of vibe I'm going for tonight."

"Kreacher can make some alterations?" the elf suggested helpfully, although he made a face as he suggested it as if he found that thought utterly distasteful.

"I think we need to call in reinforcements," Sylvie said as she walked to the Floo.

"Not those vile French elves," Kreacher said.

"No, not Ruby or Onyx," Sylvie said as she threw some powder into the Floo.

"Hello?" her father answered.

"Hey dad, Mom around?" Sylvie asked.

"Sure, let me grab her," he said.

"Thanks," Sylvie said. A few minutes later her mother's voice came through the fire.

"How are you, Sylvie?" she asked.

"Great," Sylvie said. "But can you come through? I need a hand."

"Okay," Gabrielle said. Sylvie stepped away from the fire and her mother came through. They hugged as Sylvie led her to her closet.

"What did you need my help for?" Gabrielle asked.

"I need to dress up for a team thing and I have no idea what to wear," Sylvie said.

"Mistress said she-" Kreacher said.

"Kreacher, some tea please," Sylvie interrupted him. Kreacher nodded and disappeared.

"Who is the boy?" Gabrielle asked.

"What?" Sylvie frowned.

"Because you have such a hard time dressing up for team events," Gabrielle said.

"Honestly Gladrags sends entire outfits and I just wear those," Sylvie said.

"And that isn't working now?" Gabrielle said.

"I don't remember the ensembles most of the time," Sylvie said.

"You know I was never the most fashion forward member of the family," Gabrielle said.

"Still managed to snag dad," Sylvie said.

"I threw myself into his lap," Gabrielle laughed. "I believe I was wearing a tank top and panties."

"Gross," Sylvie said.

"You should have called your aunt," Gabrielle teased, ruffling her hair as Kreacher returned with a tray of tea. They each took a mug and he vanished again.

"I really don't want to know what she and Uncle William get up to," Sylvie said.

"So, who is the boy?" Gabrielle asked again.

"It's no one," Sylvie said. "I just want to look nice."

"Then wear that green one," Gabrielle said, pointing at a green and black plaid dress.

"That's not nearly fancy enough. And it makes me look fat," Sylvie said.

"If you think anything makes you look fat, Sylvie, I'll have your team doctors talking to you daily," Gabrielle said. Sylvie made a face at her.

"It's frumpy," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in defense.

"Well let's get to work then," Gabrielle said. It took the better part of an hour, but they found a sheer black silk pleated dress with a black slip and a sewn-on belt. It had a plunged neckline and it left her more exposed than she liked in the chest, but she had to admit she looked great in it.

Although, she suspected, there would be some grumblings from Gladrags about it. She'd refused to wear it in a photo shoot, mostly because she felt too exposed leaning forward, which was all they'd wanted her to do.

She thanked her mother for her help before changing back into her regular clothing. They spent a few hours discussing how she should do her hair before her mother returned home. Sylvie took a bath, called Jacobs to chat for a bit, blushed furiously when she had to tell the Chaser that she was going out with Quintus that night, earning her a 'go get him tiger' as she ended the call, and then went about getting ready.

She'd styled her hair into waves down her back and had Kreacher climbed onto the back of the couch to help zip up her dress. He shrugged when she asked how she looked and went off to his nest.

Quintus showed up exactly four minutes later. And fifteen minutes earlier than she'd told him to. He stuttered a bit when she opened the door and smiled at him. His eyes immediately shot to her décolletage, but she couldn't blame him as it was on prime display. It made her blush, but she'd have felt oddly put out had he not looked.

He'd dressed himself better than she thought him capable in black and white dress robes that seemed to indicate they'd be dining in the magical world rather than the muggle one.

They used her Floo to travel to a small village she didn't recognize. It was a little bit strange, as she thought for sure he'd take her somewhere in London. They arrived at a small pub and she raised her brows at him as every head in the building turned to look at them. Sylvie ignored the attention and walked outside with Quintus.

"Just where are you taking me?" she asked as they stepped out of the pub that housed the public Floo.

"The Starlight Plate," Quintus said. Sylvie stopped walking and stared at him.

"No way," she said.

"Yes way," he responded. He took a small card out of his pocket and peered at it, before looking toward the tree line of the woods not too far away. To her, the card looked blank, but she could sense magic on it. He stared at it for a few moments before leading her off the pavement.

"How?" she asked. "You have to book like six months out at least."

"I called in a few favors," Quintus said.

"With who?" Sylvie asked. "The employees are sworn to secrecy and they won't even say who the chef is."

"Can't divulge my sources," Quintus said as they stepped off the pavement and into the woodland. Sylvie frowned slightly at the softer ground as her three-inch stilettos, while making her closer to Quintus's height, were not great footwear for traipsing through the wilderness.

"Boyle?" she asked.

"John wouldn't know good food if it asphyxiated him," Quintus said.

"Jacobs?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure Abby subsists on lettuce and water," Quintus said.

"Linton?" Sylvie asked.

"It wasn't anyone related to Quidditch," Quintus laughed.

"Well then who was it?" Sylvie asked.

"Not telling," Quintus said.

"You're no fun," Sylvie said.

"You've told me," Quintus responded. Sylvie was going to pout, to see if that made it any more likely for him to divulge how he'd stumbled into the reservation. But after only a few more moments she felt the air around them warm up, and then they were in a small clearing. There were perhaps seven tables around a magical firepit. The tables appeared to be the stumps of trees and the chairs were wooden to match. A small banner depicting the moon shining on a ghost floating next to a plate hung from one of the trees.

A pretty young hostess floated up to them. Her hair floated ethereally behind her as she moved. She smiled and offered a transparent hand to Sylvie.

"Miss Potter, a pleasure to have you back with us!" the ghost said.

"Uhm," Sylvie said, but her breeding took over and she shook the ghost's hand, well, as much as that was possible, on instinct.

"What?" Quintus laughed.

"Oh, and an honor to have you here as well, Mister Button," the ghost said, turning to smile at him.

"I've never eaten here before," Sylvie said as her wits returned.

"Well, you weren't out yet. But your mother was convinced you enjoyed the meal," The ghost said with a smile.

"Too much info," Sylvie said, feeling a blush rise into her cheeks as she felt infinitely younger than she was trying to look. She refused to look at Quintus, feeling very embarrassed for herself.

"And we are always more than happy to accommodate whenever a Potter requests," the ghost said with a warm smile.

"Really?" Sylvie narrowed her eyes and looked at Quintus.

"Of course. Your father more than earned our eternal respect. Your table is right this way," the ghost said, leading them off.

The ghost floated over toward the fire pit and sat Sylvie and Quintus at a table near it. Another ghost floated over to them, it spoke in an accented French and left a drink menu.

"Ghosts," Sylvie laughed as they were left alone for a few moments. "The entire thing is run by ghosts?"

"It must be. I'm sure threats of haunting help keep people quiet," Quintus said.

"Is that the Minister of Magic?" Sylvie asked.

"I believe so," Quintus said. "I'm pretty sure that's not his wife, though."

"Could be his daughter," Sylvie suggested. She peered at the wine rather than worry about who the Minister was there with.

"Could be," Quintus responded, doubt evident in his voice. Their waiter returned a moment later to take their drink order. Sylvie chatted with him for a few minutes in French, which seemed to amuse the ghost. It nodded at her as it floated away, taking the wine menu with and telling her she made a remarkable choice.

"Do I even want to know what you just did?" Quintus asked.

"Seven course tasting menu with wine pairing for both of us," Sylvie said with a smile.

"And here I was going to suggest that," Quintus said.

"Were you?" Sylvie asked.

"Well, my source told me the tasting menus were the way to go here. And if you don't mind dinner taking three hours," Quintus said.

"Seven glasses of wine sounds about right for dealing with Quintus for three hours," Sylvie said. "Maybe by glass five or six you'll spill your secrets."

"I doubt it," Quintus said.

"You are the worst," Sylvie said. But before she could continue to pester him two house elves approached their tables. Both wore pillow cases with the restaurant logo and placed plates with a bite sized appetizer on it before them. Sylvie only recognized about a third of what they said when they described it but ate it in one dainty bite anyway.

"Fish liver?" Quintus said, peering skeptically down at his.

"It's not bad. Tastes nutty," Sylvie said.

"Well you're French," Quintus answered, as if that had any bearing on the conversation. The meal resumed almost immediately after with elves bringing out their first glass of wine and a plate of food. This time; however, they were accompanied by a ghost of a chef who explained the dish before them.

The entire meal continued in that vein. Elves would accompany a ghost chef out with the food. The ghost would explain what it was and where he or she was from and then they'd have fifteen to twenty minutes before the next course and drink would appear.

It ended up being a fairly global sampling, although if Sylvie was honest, she enjoyed their time more in Asia than on the continent. And not just because the ghost of the elderly Indian witch was hilarious. The braised short rib course wasn't bad either, but she had to discount that because the drink pairing had been a bourbon flight rather than a glass of wine.

After they finished and paid, noting they were the only people left at the outdoor venue, they left. Sylvie thanked the hostess for the delicious meal and they walked back into the wilderness. Quintus had to support her as they walked, as she wobbled on her heels now. Which led to her arguing with him.

Although she wasn't arguing with him about whether or not he should be touching her. Her body flushed with warmth as he did, although she thought he didn't need to know that. She argued with him because he was an idiot for thinking that the trio of souffles was anywhere near as good as the roasted quail in chili sauce.

By the time they'd gotten back to the public Floo the only thing they'd managed to come to a consensus on was that the cauliflower fried squid with mole sauce had simply been a bit too weird.

They went their separate ways at the Floo. Sylvie hugged him before returning to her home. It wasn't until she was back that she wondered if she should have invited Quintus through with her. He hadn't looked disappointed or put out when she didn't. But she did sort of ditch him after the restaurant.

Another part of her wondered if she even wanted to. But that part of her couldn't be relied on to make decisions now. Too much wine was pouring through it and it was more than willing to take Quintus to bed at that point. Nothing about that seemed as gross as she was sure it would seem in the morning.

And, by the time the morning rolled around, she only felt empty and lonely. She rectified this by bothering Kreacher while he made her breakfast and muttered about how she needed to find someone else to complain to. But he still ate with her and listened to her whine the entire morning.

She spent the next week working out with the French National Team. Which was nice, and not just for the complimentary Paris apartment for the duration. But she got to know more of her new teammates. They gave her some gentle ribbing about secretly being an English mole, but it was all in good fun. Two of them were opponents in the British leagues, one a Beater for Wimbourne and the other a reserve chaser for Montrose, so she knew a bit about them.

The rest she'd encountered before in one way or another in various Quidditch programs. But it was nice to have the formal introductions out of the way. She spent most of the week trailing behind Benoit Delisle, the elder statesman Seeker for the French. He was a bit of a prick, but Sylvie figured he'd earned the arrogance in his twelve years on the squad.

She'd even ignored the article in the Paris paper with an oddly worded comment that seemed to indicate he didn't want to train his successor. Which was fine, she thought, given that they wouldn't be around each other much outside of the few team gatherings.

Still, she kept her mouth shut during the practices and team meals and found herself hanging out more with the Chasers than Delisle as the week wore on. She was perfectly cordial to him on the pitch and he did his best to ignore her.

She was bitching about it to Abigail when she returned the following week. It was still nearly two months before the season would start, but they'd taken to working out together at the stadium to stay in shape. Quintus walked in with Boyle while they were in mid conversation and moved to his locker to look for something or maybe to eavesdrop on the girls, Sylvie didn't find herself particularly interested in his motives.

After about five minutes Quintus snorted and Sylvie glared at him.

"What?" she snapped.

"Delisle is an idiot," Quintus said. He was halfway changed into his workout clothing. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off before grabbing one of his exercise shirts and pulling it on. Jacobs openly leered at him

"And what makes you think that?" she asked.

"Nothing good comes from angering a Potter," Quintus said.

"What?" Jacobs laughed.

"V would have willingly sat on the bench and paid her dues. But Delisle was a dick to her. So now she's going to end his international career," Quintus said.

"No I'm not," she said, frowning. She certainly didn't feel that malicious about it. Although she did want to beat him and prove to him that she was perfectly capable of wearing the seven.

"Sure you're not," Quintus said. He ruffled her hair as he stepped toward Boyle and Arrows' gym. She swatted his hand away ineffectively and then watched him disappear.

"Lunch?" she asked Jacobs.

"Can't," Abigail responded. "Have to go do a broom plug for Cleansweep. I managed to get away with not doing it for a full season now they're annoyed."

"That's impressive," Sylvie said. "I think my agent would be throwing a fit if I wanted to do that."

"Mine is," Jacobs said. "Maybe after though. Should only take an hour or so I'll call when I'm done."

"Alright," Sylvie said. After Jacobs left she grabbed a Quaffle and walked out to the pitch. She spent about forty-five minutes speeding up and down it, tossing the Quaffle through one of the hoops on each lap. After a half hour she grew bored and returned to the locker room just as Boyle and Quintus were leaving. Quintus saw her and waved Boyle ahead.

"Hey V?" he asked after Boyle was gone.

"Q?" she responded.

"I was telling Boyle about our dinner and he seemed to get it in his head that it was a date," Quintus said.

"Can't imagine why he got that idea," Sylvie said.

"Well, anyway, he wants us to go on a double date with him and Cassie," Quintus said.

"When?" Sylvie asked. Quintus looked as if he hadn't expected that response.

"Well he was hoping for tonight if I could talk you into it," Quintus said.

"We're not going to have to ride in one of those cars for like nine hours, are we?" Sylvie asked.

"I don't believe so. If they plan on doing so we can just meet them wherever," Quintus said.

"Well then," she said. "What time?"

"I dunno," Quintus said. "Probably around seven or eight?"

"Not giving a girl a lot of time to get ready," Sylvie teased.

"Does that normally take six hours?" Quintus countered.

"Yes," Sylvie responded.

"You'll go?" Quintus asked.

"Sure," Sylvie said. "I am going to go start getting ready. Floo me with the details."

"Okay," Quintus said. He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. "He also suggested I ask to upgrade out of the religious tier."

"And you were doing so well," Sylvie rolled her eyes and turned to peer at him.

"Come on it was a joke," Quintus said.

"Uh-huh. Calling your date a prostitute. Great joke Q," Sylvie said before Apparating home.

She spent a few minutes tooling around before Kreacher found her. He muttered something about the Button boy wanting to make sure they were okay for the date. But his eyes lit up when he said the word and Sylvie, despite her annoyance, found his amusement infectious and she told him to tell Button to find out for himself.

Jacobs called her not long after and she told her of recent developments. She popped over to help her pick out a dress to wear. They decided on a floral, red and gold Chinese dress that Abigail teased her she had the features for. Sylvie was pretty sure that was racist, somehow, but when she voiced that opinion Abigail told her that anyone who saw her in it would be too busy staring at her figure to worry about cultural appropriation.

She did her hair up in a tight bun with chopsticks, worrying that she was perhaps taking the outfit too far. But she did look damn good in it, if she said so herself. When she asked Kreacher her opinion he said he thought it was strange that she had eating utensils in her hair, but if that was the current fashion he could find her a fork.

When Quintus arrived he was dressed far more casually, in jeans and a green button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He stared at her for about ten seconds before speaking.

"I, uh, don't think we were going anywhere fancy."

"So?" she countered.

"Well, okay then," he said. He hesitated for a moment and then offered his hand. She stared at it for a moment before taking it and allowing herself to be led from her house and out into the Appleby streets.

They found Boyle and Cassie near the town square. Both of them stared at her when she walked up. Sylvie was remarkably overdressed, but it had the perk of causing heads to turn as she walked down the street. And Sylvie loved that.

The group settled on one of Appleby's fancier restaurants. But that really wasn't saying much. The dinner was fine. They walked around the town after before heading back to Cassie's apartment for a bottle of wine.

But when Cassie and Boyle started getting a little frisky, Sylvie figured it was time to go. Quintus walked her home. They stood outside her little cottage for rather a long time, chatting softly outside the door.

His hands wound up on her hips at some point, but she didn't mind. Still, they merely looked at each other as the time passed. They each exchanged brief comments about how they enjoyed the evening and the company and anything else they could think of. To Sylvie, something about the evening felt incomplete.

In the end they parted ways. Kreacher frowned at her when she returned but didn't say anything as he prepared an evening cup of tea. She went to bed shortly after. She didn't see Quintus for a few days after.

She found it odd, but she knew she shouldn't. Like she'd done the previous week he was spending most of his time with the English national team. But after two days, she found herself rather annoyed with him. How was she supposed to tease Boyle, or make fun of him with Jacobs, if he wasn't around? He was amazingly unempathetic to her annoyance. Which annoyed her.

But it was a problem. A rather large one. Because, at some point, and this was unfathomable, she realized that she wanted Quintus. It was alarming. And, suddenly, she wondered if he wanted her too. He had to, right? It was stupid to think he didn't. Look at her! But he hadn't kissed her. He hadn't touched her. Was he just being nice because her parents were close? That felt so wrong. They'd done things together. But aside from joking they'd not really talked about it.

And now she found herself thinking about it. Wanting to ask him about it. Wanting to ask him his intentions. Wondering exactly what they were doing. But she knew nothing good would come from wondering about it. So, her thoughts shifted to what she was going to do about it.