The Chinese Art

Ginny and I had our official first date as a couple on November 23, 1998.

It took me a while, but I got there; the point where I was going out with the girl I loved.

We went to this fancy place called La Fievre which actually means the fever. I remember their parking lot was full of expensive car models that I had never seen in my life. Wizard cars, that is.

They had the most gaudy floral wall paper that was supposed to imitate Chinese art.

We were seated after half an hour. The waiters certainly looked bored out of their minds. They were just as young as I was. But I was just starting life, so everything felt exciting to me. No more worries, no more stress. I would just drink a glass of wine.

'Holy crap! This will set us back a pretty penny!' I said when I looked at the menu. Bread here was just as expensive as a bottle of champagne in a liquor store.

'Hey, don't think about money tonight. Tonight we celebrate. A toast to my hero, who finally got the guts to ask me out properly,' she said holding the glass.

She ordered three courses, three big courses, complete with salad and cheese sticks.

And more wine.

She ordered a very complicated dish for me. Halfway through it, I thought I was going to choke on my own tongue. But I survived.

We talked and laughed and told stories and after a while I forgot about the meal and the bill.

That is until the bored waiter came to our table and slammed the little blue notebook on my empty plate.

I opened it and took a peek. One hundred and sixty galleons. I did not have this kind of money on me. It was incredible.

'Um, excuse me, Sir? My salad dressing is really that much? I mean it's just a salad dressing…' I began.

'I will have you know, Sir, that our salad dressing is unique. You can't find this recipe in all of England.'

'I am sure of that, but you see, it just seems too expensive and I don't have the kind of money…'

'Harry? What's wrong? Is it too much?' Ginny asked yanking the bill out of my hand.

'Oh, well that is a lot indeed,' she said getting red. 'I only have twenty galleons at me.'

'I have eighty,' I remarked bitterly.

'Er, is there a problem here?' the waiter asked, tapping his foot.

And that's when it happened. That's when the girl in front of me turned into what my mother should have been.

'Yes, there is a problem,' she started. 'This bill is exorbitant. We don't swim in money, you know. It's a clear rip off.'

'I will have to call the manager, madam, if there is a problem.'

'Well call him. I'm sure he will have no problem when he finds out Harry Potter is here.'

The waiter blinked at her surprised.

'My boyfriend, Harry Potter. Have you never heard of him? He is a national hero, for Pete's sake!'

The boy shook his head confused.

'He risked his life for the safety of the entire country, if not the world! I think for that he deserves a little bit of gratitude. And maybe a discount?'

There it was, the pebble in my path.

She was using the old famous/hero card. And I couldn't do anything about it.

I just sat there, watching her mesmerized, watching the way she moved her hands as if she was holding a ball of string, watching how even her hair was scolding the poor waiter, how the hairs were screaming at him, red fiery hairs gushing out reproaches.

Her white teeth smeared with a little bit of lipstick.

She had been nervous when I picked her up at seven.

Now she seemed to be in her element, free as a bird.

She always liked letting go of her fiery temper. I used to like that too.

I used to like hearing her argue until she made the other person cry.

But now I was feeling bad and uncomfortable and sad and her sweet temper could not alleviate the small, dark cloud in the horizon.

I tried brushing it off, but the more this went on, the more I wanted to dig a hole.

Finally, after a memorable struggle, the manager came to see us, all embarrassed and flattered. He was honoured that I was there.

We shook hands.

'Oh, Mr. Potter, goodness Sir! What a day, what a day! I wasn't expecting you, but if you had just called us, we would have reserved you a table and none of this trouble would have happened. Consider yourself our guest for the night. On the house! That's the least we could do for our greatest hero!'

I looked at Ginny to see her reaction but she was all smiles now.

I should have known right there; I should have known this was a mistake.