'Pretty fucking pissed off' described Michael's mood in the evening. He didn't like fighting with his friends but he wasn't going to pretend he was all right with what they were saying when he bloody well wasn't. Mandy was fucking a Death Eater, who was apparently more important to her than her friends. Padma was acting like Michael's personal life was any of her business. That both of them might actually have a point wasn't something Michael was going to acknowledge; if he felt guilty he covered it right back up by being angry. Anger was safer than guilt. Anger was much safer than thinking about the words he'd scribbled to Mandy in his rage -- words he didn't ever bring up to anyone. It had been eight years since the war. He was supposed to be over it. Forgiveness and moving on and all that bullshit. Well, with her revelation it was like he was eighteen and right back in Azkaban with the officials telling him and his remaining siblings that there wasn't even going to a body to take home and bury. The Death Eaters had piled their victims into a mass grave and any one of the bones in the pit could have been their father's. And he was supposed to get over that. Play nice because Draco Malfoy was good in the sack. Because Malfoy was sorry and had changed. Like that made up for fuck-all. Yeah, okay. No.
All in all... not a good frame of mind for a date. But Michael had only signed up for George's dating service because George was a good bloke; why not support a Weasley business venture? And it involved free food and drinks. Michael didn't turn down free drinks. Or food, lately, so when he showed up at the bar he ordered a chips and a burger without waiting around for whoever his mystery date was. It was the Leaky Cauldron; he didn't suppose the bird was going to be the type to get snitty about manners. And if she was, she could fuck right off.
As it turned out, that wasn't going to be a problem. Michael's gaze landed on a familiar blonde, and then to the red rose pin on her shirt. Well. Weasley had a talent. "It's not the sheets, it's who's on 'em," he said with a straight face, extending a hand to shake Alicia's hand like they'd never met before. "So, best case scenario... the sheets are optional. Michael Corner. Think we've met before, but it's hard to tell, y'know? The clothes are throwing me off."