Chapter 14

"I'm glad you said yes to dinner," Oliver smiled.

"I didn't," Michelle corrected. "I said yes to lunch and you said you'd pick me up at seven."

"That's true," he leaned back, clasping his hands between his knees. "But in my defense, dinner is far more romantic than lunch could ever hope to be."

"Not necessarily," Michelle leaned back as well, crossing her arms. "Any meal can be equally romantic."

"I'd be willing to test that, if you'd join me," Oliver smirked.

"Oh? When exactly would we do that?"

"Well we could start with breakfast in bed tomorrow morning," his smirk grew.

Michelle's cheeks flushed red, "I think not!" No sooner had the words left her mouth than Michelle mentally kicked herself. She was supposed to be flirting with him, making him think she liked him back. She had to have him set for the encounter with Amanda.

"We'll wait 'til we're out of bed, then," he winked. Michelle turned her head in a feeble attempt to hide the growing blush that covered her cheeks.

"So how much farther is-"

"We're here." Oliver scooted forward in his seat and straightened his suit. Michelle jumped slightly, grabbing her clutch. As the limo came to a stop, the keeper looked over and grinned. "I think you'll like the restaurant. It's muggle, but it's nice. The boys and I found it last season."

The chauffeur opened the door, and Oliver climbed out. Michelle was close behind him, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Oliver took her hand and, after a moment of locked eye contact, put her arm in his and led her to the door of The Gilded Lantern. The French doors swung open, two doormen greeting the two as they walked in. A tall, skinny man stood at the host podium just inside the entrance, dressed in a crisp suit and sporting a twiddly mustache.

"Reservations?" he asked, looking down his nose at the two.

"Oliver Wood, for two."

The host scanned his book, glanced up at Oliver, and said, "Ah yes, right this way." He turned on his heel and walked toward the center of the restaurant, weaving in between tables. Michelle began to wonder where exactly Oliver had reserved a table, as they walked to the back of the restaurant and into an elevator. The host pushed a button labeled 'O'.

Michelle leaned into Oliver, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he smirked down at her. Michelle had seen many smirks in her life. Draco Malfoy, at school, had been one example. Michelle hadn't encountered him nearly as often as her older friends, but what she had seen, she didn't like. But where Draco's smirk was full of condescending, Oliver's was more playful. It was as if he had a secret that he was going to tell her any minute, and he knew that her reaction would be exactly what he wanted.

When the elevator stopped, the doors opened to reveal a glass observatory with a crystal clear view of the surrounding city. Michelle stepped out, open-mouthed, and followed the host down a few steps to a table set for two. All around the border of the room, candles sat on candelabras of varying heights. The observatory itself had a ring around the edge- a marble walkway with rich wooden railings- that stepped down into the seating area at four points.

"This is beautiful," Michelle breathed. "How did you find this place?" She glanced at Oliver, finding it difficult to believe that a group of Quidditch players- even if they were professional- had stumbled upon such a fantastically romantic private room in a restaurant.

"One of our guys, Hammond, a beater, got married last season. The bride's family happened to be extremely affluent in the muggle community. They own this restaurant, and the reception was here."

Michelle wandered off to the edge of the room, looking down at the city, "A room like this is perfect for a reception." Oliver walked up behind her, his hands in his pants pockets. Michelle could see his reflection in the spotless glass.

"Something I should keep in mind?"

Michelle's eyes widened, searching for a flirtatious response. "Maybe," she shrugged. She prayed that would work.

Oliver seemed satisfied by that answer, as his reflection smiled and reached out, taking Michelle's hand. He led her to the table, pulled her chair out for her, and sat down. The host had already left, Michelle noticed as she looked around, but a waiter approached with two menus in hand.

"Thank you," Oliver took his from the waiter and Michelle followed suit. She looked through the entrées, unsure of what to get. The entire menu was written in French, and all of the "du's", "au's", and "poule's" were making her head spin. Oliver glanced up, sensing her confusion. The Hufflepuff gave him a whimpering look, and he smiled.

"How about I order for both of us?"

Michelle nodded.

The waiter returned shortly, ready to take their menus and orders.

"I'll have the coq au vin, and she'll have the terrine de saumon aux epinards," Oliver handed both menus to the waiter, who nodded and scribbled down their orders.

"And would you like any wine with that, sir?"

"Yes, a bottle of brut, please."

"We'll have that right out," the waiter nodded and left.

"What is brut?"

"It's a hybrid wine with Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. It'll match the food perfectly, trust me," Oliver smiled.

"Never took you for a wine connoisseur," Michelle sat back in her chair.

"You learn a lot about wine and French food when you date a French model for a year." The moment the words left his mouth, Oliver looked away. Michelle wasn't sure why, but she felt a pang of…jealousy?

"A model? And French, no less. Well that must've been fun," she hissed out. She had tried to sound casual and unaffected, but to no avail.

"I had just signed with the team, and we were doing an exhibition tour between seasons. We met at a club after a game, and we hit it off."

"Was she a witch?"

"No, she was muggle. Took quite a bit to make my cover story stick."

"What was your cover story?" Michelle leaned forward, intrigued.

"I was uh," Oliver cleared his throat and averted his eyes, "I was a spy," he stared at the marble floor.

Michelle burst out laughing, "A spy? Seriously? Did she believe that?"

"Well yeah. I told her that, obviously, I no one else who knew would admit it, because of security reasons. And no one ever said that models were intelligent," he shrugged.

"So you dated a dumb French model for a whole year," Michelle leaned back, crossing her arms.

"I was fresh out of Hogwarts, and I'd just signed to a professional Quidditch team. Over half of the guys were dating models, the rest were dating debutantes. I wanted to fit in," Oliver shrugged again, a hint of bite in his voice.

Michelle uncrossed her arms, "Oh. Gotcha." Oliver's expression changed, softening. He opened his mouth to speak, but as cut off by the waiter returning with the wine. Michelle sat awkwardly as the waiter opened the bottle and poured it for her and Oliver. As he left, Oliver straightened in his chair, grabbing his glass.

"I'm glad you agreed to come to dinner, Michelle." He took a small sip.

"Well a girl can only resist for so long," she shrugged.

"And you're sure your boyfriend doesn't mind?"

"Boyfriend?" Michelle gave Oliver a quizzical look, realizing her mistake a second too late. "Oh! Silver! Oh, no, he's…I don't think he'd really mind, I mean…He's leaving for the states pretty soon, so…" Michelle grabbed her glass and took a long sip, attempting to buy time.

"Well either way, I'm glad you're here," Oliver smirked.

"So-"

"Oh my god! Michelle!"

The Hufflepuff turned in her seat to see none other than Amanda Miranda stepping off of the elevator, walking towards them. She was baffled at how the American has found them. While Kelly must have told them which restaurant they were at, how could Amanda find them in the observatory?

"Amanda," Michelle forced a smile, "What are you doing here?"

"My aunt and uncle own this restaurant!" the blonde smiled, reaching their table.

"What a coincidence," the brunette forced through her grimace.

"I know, right?" Amanda turned to Oliver, "And you must be Oliver," she took a step toward the young man. "Michelle and Kelly have told me so much about you."

"Have they now?" Oliver glanced at Michelle, smiling.

"Oh yeah. She's a hell of a lucky girl to have such a dreamy boyfriend," Amanda shifted her weight to a sexy pose.

Oliver's smile widened.

"Oh I think I'm the lucky one."