Re: Lavender/Zach
Zach made a tch-ing sound and shook his head. "You know I don't like reporters, Brown. Present company excepted. Can the lady in this steamy little novel be something else entirely?"
He thought to himself that any novel featuring him should be a horror, but he didn't give voice to it. Brown was curious and clever, and she'd ask why.
His nose crinkled even more at the mention of Spectre. Rubbish underwear, probably aimed at the gay set, really. Too skimpy and stylised for him.
"That's no good either." His grin was wolfish. "I might always wear a shirt, but I rarely wear underwear. Call it a compromise."
Another tray full of drinks floated lazily by, and Zach reached out with his quick reflexes to take two more flutes of champagne. Handing one to Lavender, he took a sip of his own, wishing they had something with a little more kick available. Especially when she asked her next question.
"Yeah." His voice was curt, and he felt badly about that, so he forced himself to elaborate. "They always want to know why. I'm not ever going to tell them, though." Pausing, Zach considered the scars on Lavender's neck. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he was sorry. To apologize for leaving when he'd seen Greyback, who had gone on to hurt her so badly. But he couldn't, so he just shrugged awkwardly, and finished with, "It's none of their business."