Arran // Hermione
Arran was late. Arran was not usually late - to quidditch galas or anything else - but then, he didn't usually spend half an hour pacing his living room thinking about his ex-best-friend and his sister and the completely untenable situation he'd landed himself in. He should have told Celia about Roger. He should have told anyone about Roger, but it was no good realising that now. He hadn't expected Celia to go and ask him to be her date. He dreaded the moment he might see them, because Celia would expect them to be... normal and Arran had no illusions that he was a good enough actor to convince his sister he wasn't still furious and hurt. Three times he considered cancelling, but then he'd have to try and explain that, not to mention it would be very rude to Hermione.
At least he'd chosen his suit already. It was the one he usually wore to such events, with the black-and-white cufflinks and the grey-green tie. Once he finally-for-the-third time decided he had to go, he apparated to the Mountain View and allowed the press to have their wicked way with him for a few minutes. (Yes, of course he was proud of his sister, yes of course he looked forward to flying against her, no of course it didn't make things awkward at home and, finally, yes he was looking forward to the season starting again.) That done, he snagged a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter and started walking around looking for Hermione.
Thanfully, he found her relatively quickly. He'd have been even more late if he'd had to look for her for any length of time. "Hello," he said, smiling. He had been looking forward to this, and now he had one eye out trying to spot Celia. "Sorry I'm late. You look lovely."