Ezra Goldstein (notgolden) wrote in thebreach, @ 2010-09-16 19:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log, [1980-09] september, ezra goldstein, sophie lufkin |
Log: Ezra Goldstein and Sophie Lufkin
Who: Ezra Goldstein and Sophie Lufkin
When: Thursday, 16 September 1980, late afternoon
Where: WWN Headquarters, then a small pub in Puddlemere
What: Ezra and Sophie after the interview.
Rating: G
Status: Complete
As they left the broadcasting booth, Ezra ran a hand through his hair. While he'd never admit it, he'd been a little nervous to be interviewed - as he'd never been a spokesman in that capacity for the Ministry before - and to be interviewed by Sophie. This was what she did for a living. And she was quite good at it. "Well," he said with a slight smile, "I hope I did some good. Thank you again for the opportunity." After a moment's debate, he put out his hand. Purely as a professional courtesy. Sophie shook it without any afterthought; she did shake hands with most of her interviewees as they left, after all. Though Ezra was not just any other interviewee. She hoped that the beginning of a flirt between them wouldn't be a problem with her bosses. She'd been very careful to remain professional in the interview and to ask him the same questions she'd have had had the Ministry sent anyone else from the Muggle Liaison Office. Tough ones, to confront him, to present all sides of a story, to make sure she kept her credibility as a newscaster. Be soft on an interviewee, and it followed you. People noticed. Listeners weren't fools. And if some of her colleagues had a different view of their job, then so be it, it wasn't her case. Journalistic integrity was extremely important to her. "You were good," she reassured him, still holding his hand. "Don't tell me it was your first interview, I wouldn't believe it." "Believe it," he said, smile stretching to a grin, pleased at her praise. "I haven't even been deputy head for a year yet. Although my boss isn't one for public speaking. I expect he'll have me doing more of this type of thing." Ezra realized that they were still shaking hands. Although technically there wasn't much shaking going on. While he really didn't want to let go, they were at her workplace after all. So he disengaged while he joked, "I suppose I'll have to get over my shyness now." "You, shy?" An amused grin brightened Sophie's features, as it so often (always? almost!) did when Ezra was around. With her newly released hand, she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her other one already carrying parchments of notes for the show she just finished. "Are you returning at the Ministry?" she asked, reluctant to see him go though she knew he couldn't hang around at the station much longer. "Oh, yes, terribly," he replied, returning her smile. He had to say that he truly enjoyed making her smile. While Sophie Lufkin was already quite attractive, her smile lit up her face. He glanced at his watch. "Perhaps. Try to catch up on paperwork. Or maybe I'll just take it home." He gave her a serious look and a nod. "And I solemnly swear that I will eat a proper dinner. In fact, if cold Indian takeaway counts as breakfast, I'll have eaten three proper meals today." Then he laughed a bit and shook his head. "How about you? Nearly done for the day?" "Indian takeaway, while delicious, cannot make three meals on the same day," she protested, amused. "Maybe I should explain this to you in better terms. I'm pretty much done for the day, I just have to drop this," she lifted the rolls of parchment in her hand, "back at my desk." She made a barely perceptible pause, gathering her courage. "I don't have to head back home immediately, though." She hoped that he'd understand her meaning. He was just about to explain that he'd only eaten the takeaway for breakfast; the food at the Ministry wasn't nearly that good. But before he could, she told him she was done for the day, but didn't have to get home right away. Under normal circumstances, if a woman he'd been bantering with for nearly a month said that, he'd take it as an invitation. But nothing about the last month qualified as normal circumstances. Pausing for a long moment, he finally decided that she wouldn't have mentioned that last bit unless she wanted him to know. Clearing his throat, and feeling oddly nervous, he gave a half-smile. "Don't suppose you'd like to get a drink or something then?" Sophie almost sighed in relief, glad that he'd caught her cue. She was not bold enough to ask him out herself, not with the old-fashioned education she'd got from her grand-mother. "I would love it," she assured him, hoping that she balanced her enthusiasm just well enough to convey her interest without scaring him. This flirting business was so complicated. And she was still surprised by the fact that she was, indeed, flirting. Oh, she'd accepted it, she was long past the denial phase, but it still amazed her. And scared her a little, but... not enough to stop her. Glad that he'd interpreted her statement correctly, his smile widened and he nodded. "Fantastic." And it was. They'd be able to talk. For more than a few minutes. He gestured to the parchment in her hand. "Shall I wait for you?" He reminded himself to let her set the pace. "Or would you rather we meet somewhere?" "I don't mind either way," she said. "It'll only take me a minute to drop this off, but if you need to check in with your office, we can meet directly at the pub or whatever place we'll be going to." She didn't want to get him in trouble with his job, after all. Ezra laughed and shook his head. "They never know when I'll be in the office anyway." When Sophie went to her desk, he straightened his collar, smoothed his robes, and ran a hand through his hair. Soon enough, they were at a small pub in Puddlemere that Ezra liked to frequent after matches. The barkeeper gave him a nod as they entered. After ordering their drinks, they settled at a corner table. "So when do I need to have you home by?" he asked. "You said you didn't need to get home immediately. Wouldn't want you to break curfew," he teased. She laughed - it seemed as though she always did, when he was around, and it was one of the things she liked the most about him. "Curfew is basically when my mother-in-law has had enough with Matthew and wants to head home. She takes care of him during the day, while I'm working," she explained. "My sister also lives with me, but she's an Healer and you know how insane those schedules are." He nodded. "Yes, Rebecca - that's my sister-in-law - was a mediwitch before she had the children." There was a great deal he wanted to ask Sophie just from the bit she'd revealed. However, he knew his curiosity would have to wait. There would be plenty of time to get to know her. He hoped. The barkeeper brought over their drinks and, once they were alone again, Ezra leaned forward. "I have a very serious question to ask you, Sophie." Pausing dramatically, he finished, "How great was I? Best interviewee ever?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously. Sophie had picked up her drink and was taking a first sip when he spoke, and she almost choked on it as she laughed. "Hum, well, maybe not the best ever, but you were good," she said once she regained her breath. "You didn't shy away of controversial talk." Which was good from a journalistic point of view, but worrying from a personal one. He was putting himself at risk, and today she'd helped him spread his message, increasing the risks for him. She didn't like this line of thoughts. What if something happened to him? She pushed that thought away. Asking him about it would be a sure way to bring the atmosphere down, and they'd both always done such a good job at keeping things light-hearted. Time for the tough questions would come eventually, but... not yet. "So your sister-in-law used to be a Mediwitch; does she plan on picking it up again eventually?" There was so much she'd like to ask him, to find out about him. "And your brother, what does he do? It's been so many years since I lost contact with him." They'd never been close, to be honest, and so she'd not really tried to keep in touch with him. He tried - and failed - to look sad when she said he was good. "I don't particularly like to be controversial." This shouldn't be news to her, not after all the joking they'd done. "But it's important that those things are said." And not just because it was his job. Thinking about his mother for a moment, he glanced down at the table and played with his beer mat before picking up his drink. Ezra shrugged. "I dunno if Rebecca's going back. I think Abraham prefers her home. He works for the Committee on Experimental Charms. As a researcher. It's all very Ravenclaw of him." He really didn't want to talk about his brother while he was on a...here with Sophie. "Your sister...younger or older?" He thought it likely she was younger, but you never knew. "She might get bored once the children are older and gone to school most of the year," Sophie commented, thinking back on her own decision to keep working, when Matthew was born. At the time, her mother-in-law had grumbled about youth nowadays and the erosion of family values, but Sophie's mother had understood - she'd done the same, after all, when Sophie and Liz had been born. And Mrs Lufkin had forgotten her recriminations once she'd realised it gave her the opportunity to take care of her grandson while Sophie was at work. "Liz is five years younger, which isn't much now but was a big deal when we were children," she answered. She mused on his comment about his brother's job, and her own atypical career, for someone from her House. "Where your brother is a true Ravenclaw, I'm the odd one out, working in media like this. Even my cousin - Sean Bradley, you know him, do you? - does research on charms, as a broommaker. And my sister wasn't a Ravenclaw - she was in Hufflepuff - but she's got a job that's more easily associated with my house than mine; in fact, everyone assumes that she was the one in Ravenclaw, not me." She didn't mind; she used her wit in a different way than most of her housemates, but her job still required logic and an analytic mind, qualities that were common in Rowena's House. "Enough about me, though," she said, feeling she'd been rambling and most probably bored him. "Tell me about you, and what led you to your current job." He shook his head. "Your job isn't that much different from Abraham's. Except he only researches charms. You've got to research all sorts of things in order to interview people and report the news. Personally I think it rather suits a Ravenclaw. And I only know of Sean. Vaguely through Hestia. I had no idea that he made brooms." Which was very very interesting. Ezra's own broom was due for an upgrade. Of course, he almost never got a chance to fly anymore. Partly because he had no time and partly because he lacked a place to do so. Maybe if he offered to help Dedalus with his golf 'court' the other bloke would let him fly around the farm. "I didn't want to be an arithmancer. The thought of sitting in an office all day..." He shuddered as his voice trailed off. "Between my NEWTs and my personal background it seemed that the Muggle Liaison Office was a good fit. I got to deal with people. Wasn't much to it. But then I had the opportunity to work with the Headmaster on the Muggle Studies curriculum. Mostly because the head of the office was worried about the fallout. When he finally resigned, the deputy head moved up to head and I was promoted. You know, your typical overnight success story," he finished with a smile as he lifted his pint glass. He leaned forward again. Although he'd use the excuse that it was getting a bit noisy if he needed to, he really just wanted to be closer to Sophie. "What do you do when you're not working? Aside from raising gnomes and listening to Celestina Warbeck of course." His description of her job made Sophie happy. It was how she saw it, as well: she wasn't curious about only one topic, but about everything, and as a journalist she got to learn a bit of everything. She was a generalist where others, like his brother, were specialists. She was used to people underestimating her job, and to see Ezra understand and appreciate what she did brought a smile to her lips. "I like success stories," she said, raising her pint in his honour before taking a sip. "And hum, apart from raising gnomes and listening to the Singing Sorceress..." She paused, as if she were running out of ideas, though the sparkle in her eyes told him clearly that it was only for show. "I try to spend as much time with my son as possible," she answered more seriously. "He's the most important person in my life and as such he always comes first." Ezra already knew about Matthew, and so she wasn't trying to scare him off, merely stating the obvious... while also reminding him that whatever course they might take, Matthew's needs would always weigh in. "I also enjoy gardening, as you know," she continued, "and reading. Nothing like a good book, once the little one is in bed, to wrap up a day quietly." Holding her gaze, he replied, just as seriously, "That's how it should be." One corner of his mouth quirked up. "And oftentimes, when my brother is being an...being particularly exasperating," he amended, "I remind myself that he's doing what he thinks is best for his children. Usually." Sometimes he was just being an arse. But he'd keep that opinion to himself. "I agree about the reading. Not so much about the gardening. Herbology was definitely not my strong suit. I do like being outdoors though. I don't spend nearly enough time flying anymore. When Abraham found out he was a wizard, that was what I was most excited about. That he'd be able to fly. Like Superman." Realizing that Sophie likely had no idea who Superman was, he explained, "Superman is a muggle superhero. He's from the planet Krypton and flies around saving people and defeating evil villains. And when I was seven, I tried to emulate Superman by jumping off the roof. Broke my leg. Was laid up all summer." He grinned sheepishly. She hadn't really worried, for he'd known about Matthew from the start, but his reassurance that he understood that her son came first meant a lot to her. He might have issues with his brother, as he'd hinted at once or twice, but he seemed like a family man to her. He'd make a great father someday. And she was not thinking that far, that'd be quite the jump ahead... and far too scary, as well. One step at a time. This was their first date, after all. If it was a date. Was it a date? They'd agreet to meet, alone, to get to know each other better while enjoying a drink; that met all the criteria, didn't it? Especially considering how they'd been flirting for quite a while. While she was pondering whether this qualified as a date or not - and pushing aside any thought of Ezra as a father - Ezra kept talking, about flying and Muggle heroes and childhood injuries. "Dangerous superhero, you have," she teased him. "That would have been a good time to show signs of magic and cushion your fall. It's a pity it doesn't work that way, isn't it?" Amused, she asked: "Did you read many Superman stories while you were bedridden, or were you disgusted by your misadventure?" He was aware that her mind was elsewhere as he talked about flying and Superman. Hoping that things weren't turning awkward again, he'd just kept talking and was glad when she smiled. "It's only dangerous if you mistakenly believe you're from Krypton too. And of course I kept reading. Thought I'd missed some crucial piece of information about flying. My cape - my mum's curtains tied around my neck. Can't say she was too surprised when I blew up the teapot the next summer - or something might have been slightly off." He paused for a moment, struck by an idea. "Matthew might like Superman. They're comics. Drawings and words. I looked at them loads before I actually could read." He thought it likely that his mother had packed up some of his old comics in the attic. "Oh, is it like The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle?" She remember seeing a display of the comics at Flourish and Blott's, when she'd been looking for books on homeschooling, and thinking it would make a good Christmas gift. Matthew liked being read a story at night, before bed, and she had good hope that he would enjoy reading once he learned to. He was getting better with his alphabet, thanks to Rudy. Which was, in a way, thanks to Ezra. He grimaced when she mentioned Martin Miggs. "Only in the broadest sense of the word comic." He, too, had seen the display at Flourish and Blotts. And as far as he'd been able to tell, Martin didn't do much of anything except spout gibberish. He supposed wizards might find it zany. "I'm certain my old comics are somewhere in my parents' attic. I could look next time I'm there if you'd like." His mother rarely threw anything away. Which was understandable given what had happened to her. Picking up his pint, he was slightly disheartened to realize that he was more than half-way through his pint and Sophie nearly so. He was certain that once they were finished, she'd have to head home. And their...this would be over. Ezra wanted very much to ask her to dinner. But how would that go over? So far things were going rather well. As he debated with himself, he fiddled with his pint glass. "You don't like Martin Miggs?" she asked, noticing his expression. "Why? Is it the depiction of Muggles in it?" The opinion of someone from Muggle Liaison, like him, would carry weight, and she couldn't help but think that it'd do a good show. Maybe another interview, at some point later on. His offer to pass on his old comics wasn't ignored - how could she, when it was so generous of him? She wondered what Matthew could take from a Muggle comic (not like Martin Miggs but a real one) when he still had so much to learn in the wizarding world, but it would be rude to turn him down, and that was not something she wanted. Most definitely not. It'd mean no second date, and that was a sad prospect. Yes, she was already hoping for a second date. Merlin helped her. "That's so kind of you, thank you." "Well, I can't say they're very accurate. But mostly I don't like them because they're boring," he admitted with a shrug. "Nothing happens. There's more action in Muggle comic books." He grinned and nodded. "Alright. I'll have a look around the next time I'm at my parents'." His presence would be expected on Saturday for the breaking of the fast. He'd gotten out of going to dinner for the New Year, but there'd be no wiggling out of Saturday night. At least he'd see his nieces and nephew. "I'll send a few to you and you can decide if Matthew would enjoy them." And this likely went without saying, but this evening was going so swimmingly so far; Ezra preferred to keep it that way. "And my feelings won't be hurt if he wouldn't." After another sip from his pint glass - a small one as he wasn't in a hurry to end their outing - he scooted his chair closer to hers. The pub was starting to fill up and it was a bit noisier than when they'd arrived. Or so he'd claim if she commented on it. "Alright, Sophie. Truth time." He narrowed his eyes. "I've told you about losing my eyebrows when I was eight and thinking I was Superman and breaking my leg. And you've not told me one embarrassing story from your childhood." With a mock pout, he added, "Hardly seems fair," before smiling. It was getting noisier, Sophie could only agree. They were much better closer, like this. Close enough that their knees might even touch, if she turned a little towards him. Not that she did. But if she did... Returning her thoughts to the man across from her - no, not across anymore but next to her, she did not find him smiling that gorgeous smile of his, or laughing, but rather... pouting. Mock pouting, to be accurate, which fit him much better than a real pout, though she was sure he did get in a bad mood from time to time, like everyone. Probably lost his temper once in a while, too. That wasn't the sort of things one showed on a date, though, nor in a playful flirting correspondence, and so she hadn't yet been privy to any such moments. "Embarrassing, you say? No, no, you must be mistaken, I've never been embarrassed in my whole life, I assure you," she began, joking. "Though, well, some might think that I blew things out of proportions - literally - when my dad quit Hogwarts in favour of W.A.D.A. and I was so upset that I vanished his briefcase. Accidentally, of course, as I was only eight. It didn't reappear until a week later, when my mum discovered it in the compost, by the garden. It was... let's say smelly." "No," he agreed, smirking a bit. "Of course not. It was silly of me to even ask." When she began talking about banishing her father's briefcase, he didn't bother to hold in his laughter even as he tried to figure out who her father was. Clearly he'd predated Ezra's time at Hogwarts. "Was it ruined? What in the world did your parents say?" Ezra decided that he was going to ask a few personal questions. He had to if only to find out what her father had taught at Hogwarts. "Your dad was a professor at Hogwarts? What did he teach?" As far as Ezra knew, the fine arts weren't (and hadn't ever) been part of the wizarding curriculum. Sophie took a sip of her pint while he spoke, putting it back down on the table before answering him. "It was ruined, yes; no amount of magic could get rid of the stink. They were upset, of course, but not as much as one might think. I'd been looking forward to go to Hogwarts with my father for years, he'd always told me I'd join him there when I was eleven, and I felt as if it was the end of the world that it wouldn't happen." She laughed. "I was, let's say, dramatic," she smirked. The smirk didn't falter as she went on to answer his next questions. "He taught Herbology - which explains my love of gardening. He's Herbert Beery," she continued, getting more animated. "Yes, Beery. I hated my name, when I was younger. Sophie Beery, talk about ridiculous rhyming. I was so glad that Andrew's name didn't rhyme as well!" Before he could assure her that Sophie Beery didn't sound so bad (or tease her about it. He hadn't quite settled on the tack he'd take), the name 'Andrew' came tumbling out of her mouth. And it was evident that Andrew was her husband's name. Ezra was plenty curious about Andrew, particularly what he'd been like and how long he'd been gone. However, he wasn't certain it was appropriate to ask. The last thing he wanted was to make Sophie uncomfortable. On the other hand, he didn't want her to think that she couldn't talk about it. Bugger. To buy himself some time, he picked up his pint glass and took a long pull. Finally, setting his glass down, he looked at her. "I think Sophie Lufkin suits you." And he meant it. Who she was today, sitting in the pub with him, was because of everything and everyone that had come before. And he very much wanted to get to know that woman. Hopefully, she'd realize what he was getting at. "Thank you," she replied, blushing under his intense gaze. She really should stop blushing like a school girl around him, she thought. They were touching a different topic though, one she hadn't thought about when she'd talked about how she disliked her maiden name. Andrew was there between them now. Andrew and her past, her marriage, its tragic end. "I like it," she said. "Which is a good thing, considering I've worn it for" - she calculated quickly - "eleven years now. A third of my life. I could have changed back to Beery, after Andrew's death, but I didn't want to. Because it's prettier, definitely," she joked, "but mostly because it's Matthew's name, and I feel it's important to share the same name with my son." She was blushing again. And it was just as adorable as the first time she'd done it after the play. And just as at the play, it took a great deal of willpower not to do something that might make things awkward. Like ask her to dinner. Or touch her. He had a fleeting thought of kissing her and pushed it away. She was talking about her late husband; it was definitely not the appropriate time. Adorable or not. He nodded. "And it's a part of who you are, Sophie," he said quietly. "And I'd very much like to get to know you." Oh, now she was blushing even deeper. One would never believe she was a thirty-three years old widow, seeing her like this. Apparently it was a talent Ezra had: making her laugh, and making her blush. "I'd like that, too," she said, just as quietly. It was the most obvious encouragement she'd ever given him; she could not believe that he'd miss it when he'd caught all her previous cues. He'd been so patient with her, she thought, stepping back after his owl-delivered dinner offer, earlier on in their correspondence, and waiting for her cue ever since. She was lucky; most men, she knew, would have already given up. He couldn't help but grin at her response even as he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. While he would have backed off, he was glad he didn't have to. "So," he said, "you'll have dinner with me then? We can work around your schedule." Hell, they could even have a late dinner one night after Matthew went to bed if she wanted. "And I have to say that you are utterly adorable when you blush." Yes, it was true, but he also wanted to see if it would make her blush harder. It did, it most definitely did. He was offering dinner again, and this time she wouldn't turn him down. It was a big step, but this first date had been an even bigger one, and they were having a great time, weren't they? Andrew would understand, he'd even approve, she thought. And... she wanted to laugh. She pushed away any thought of the danger he was in because of his job, because of interviews like the one he'd given her today. It scared her, yes, but it was just a date, wasn't it? It was a slippery slope, but one she'd already gone too far on to turn around. She wanted to see what came next. She smiled. "Dinner sounds good. And thank you. You do seem to have a talent for making me blush." Yes. She'd said yes to dinner. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but his grin widened further. "Now, talk like that...it'll just inflate my ego. Possibly make me quite insufferable," he teased, picking up his pint glass and swallowing the last of his pint. Now that he knew he'd see her again - hopefully soon - it wasn't as vital that he carefully ration his beer. "What kind of food do you like?" He narrowed his eyes playfully. "Wait, this isn't all a ploy to get me to eat veg, is it?" She laughed, she couldn't help it. "As you're the one inviting, you get to pick the restaurant," she reminded him, "so it'd be hard for me to force you to eat vegetables. You only have to choose a place where you know there are plates on the menu that you like, and you'll be good. Now, when I'll be the one inviting, that might be another story..." She wouldn't, of course, but making fun of him was too enjoyable to let it pass. He was such a good sport about it. "As for what kind of food I like," she continued, "I'm not very picky. Indian, French, Italian, or good old english food, I'm easy." Although he grumbled when she teased him about restaurants that she might pick, he was pleased that she'd mentioned inviting him out. "In that case," he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I'll have to find a restaurant that serves cookies for dinner." He nodded emphatically. "Yes, I'll take you to a bakery for our date. Absolutely no veg. And you know how I love cookies." She was nearly finished with her drink and he thought it likely she'd want to get home to see Matthew. More seriously, he said, "I know you'll have to find someone to look after Matthew. And if you'd rather, we can have a late dinner. After you've put him down for bed. When we go is up to you." He gave her a half-smile. "So long as it's not too far away." "I could ask my sister to take care of him for a night," she reassured him. "I'll have to check her schedule first, but I'll let you know." With a last sip, she finished her pint. "I'm afraid I'll have to head home now, though. Curfew, you know," she said with a wink, refering to his question when they'd first arrived at the pub. "I'll look forward to dinner," she promised, picking her purse as she spoke. "I had a great time, Ezra. Thank you." "I did, too," he said, smiling. This had turned out better than he could have imagined it. "And you're welcome." They both stood and Ezra followed her out of the door to the small alleyway behind the pub. "Let me know when you're free for dinner." It would be odd to shake hands as they said good-bye, he thought. Especially now that she'd agreed to a date. But he didn't want to rush anything else. In the end, he reached for her hands, curling his fingers around hers and giving them a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Good night, Sophie." "Good night, Ezra," she replied softly, squeezing his hands in return, before letting go, taking a step back, and Disapparating. |