"Ainsleigh MacFusty," he said, grinning across the table at the young witch. He could not recall the last time he saw her, at least a large handful of years. The last time he visited their habitat in Scotland was quite a while back, and he had not seen Ainsleigh then. Charlie usually spent time with her brother, John. "Look at you!" he said, his hands finally warm enough as he reached across the table to grab onto hers, squeezing them for a moment. "It's amazing what a few years will do. You look absolutely wonderful, Leigh. How are you?"
Three years ahead of Ainsleigh in school, Charlie thought he saw her not too long after he graduated, perhaps during one summer after he had been in Romania. He, at the very least, remembered writing her a letter to congratulate her on graduating (not that she would not have, they were in the same house and spent a bit of time together because of her family and his interests). Charlie, however, looked much older than he was—weathered from his time spent outdoors. He would not have had it any other way, though often thought about what his life would have been if he chose playing Quidditch professionally.
"May I buy you lunch?" he asked, the server coming by to check on them and take Ainsleigh's order.