Whoa... "I only meant that I would teach you to be more open. Love is a strong word, honey. I understand why you are sweating profusely now and looking scared," she said with a giggle as she wiped sweat from his brow.

She nodded her head and said, "Yes, we should talk, darling. My place, let's go." She stood on her tip toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Please don't let me down," she whispered as she tunred on the spot and disappeared into the darkness hoping he would follow.

Ethan knew that was his cue. He was not going to disobey at this moment. She was here with him, the very thing that he looked forward to every day, the very reason his chest hurt at times, a great pain that he knew nothing about but felt it subside when she was around...

Until the very moment he stepped into the Quidditch Shop to see his best friend, Milo. Here he thought his celebrations of not being attached were the very thing that made him feel good, made him feel like the man he wanted to be, but he was far from it. She was gone, but he was not far behind as he finally disappeared, making his way to her place.

Marina Effron had a tendency to look good. She looked it, right now, as she stepped out of the Department of Mysteries, at the end of the evening. It had been a hectic day, and she had been a mess, by the end of it. Which had not suited her at all, so she had spent at least fifteen minutes fixing herself up -- and one would have thought that, for someone like her, looks would have ceased to matter.

Frowning slightly at the thought - she didn't want to think she was superficial. Because she knew she wasn't - she turned to the right, and stopped - the corner was dark -- quiet, peaceful -- Like always. What was different, though, was the person in the shadows. He was kind of very expertly hidden and, truth be told, Marina wouldn't have spotted him if the way he stood was --- well, not graceful. In a way that she could only associate with one person.

"Drago?"

Drago chuckled softly as someone took notice of him. He'd suspected she was not any ordinary woman. "Perceptive," he said as he stepped forward. As usual his clothing was likely expensive and a bit on the feminine side, but somehow it seemed to easily suit him. His hair was tied back, though the same stubborn lock remained in place. "Not everyone would take notice. It is good to see you again, Marina." He held out a hand in a gentlemanly manner. Really, many of his mannerisms had a tendency to be traditionalist or mannered.

Marina smiled lightly. "I wouldn't have noticed if --" She paused. "Well, you stand out." She couldn't exactly tell him he was different, altogether. No one else at the Ministry had the same easy grace as him - or, at least, Marina had yet to meet someone with it, here.

"It's good to see you, too," she said, briefly taking his hand. "How have you been?" She wasn't developing some sort of crush on him, was she? She was supposed to have grown up. Graduated. Become a boss. How was it possible to still feel like a schoolgirl, sometimes? One who had been caught, red-handed, in some sort of trouble, to be more precise.

Quote:

Originally Posted by SenoritaMaxie

Marina smiled lightly. "I wouldn't have noticed if --" She paused. "Well, you stand out." She couldn't exactly tell him he was different, altogether. No one else at the Ministry had the same easy grace as him - or, at least, Marina had yet to meet someone with it, here.

"It's good to see you, too," she said, briefly taking his hand. "How have you been?" She wasn't developing some sort of crush on him, was she? She was supposed to have grown up. Graduated. Become a boss. How was it possible to still feel like a schoolgirl, sometimes? One who had been caught, red-handed, in some sort of trouble, to be more precise.

"It probably does not help that I am a little over six and a half feet tall." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. He straightened up and seemed to be regarding her as he let his hand slip from hers, still smiling softly. "I have been well. As busy as always. And you, my dear?"

He kissed her hand. Did he have to do that? Because it was making her feel... well, Marina was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to feel this way, about a co-worker. But she did.

"Don't," Marina said softly, gently pulling her hand away. Right. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say. "I mean --" She looked away, for a second. "I'm fine. Busier than I probably should be." It was a shame she couldn't talk about her job, but two and a half years of it had made her feel like she could keep back any amount of secrets.

"I guess you would understand," she said, looking up at Drago. "You said you were an Unspeakable, before."

He nodded, not seeming offended, but noted her reaction. She had carried on the conversation, and he thought it pointless to backtrack now. "I and my dearest friend were. We worked on many things together at the time. He would sometimes tease my wife with the title when she would ask what he had been up to. And aside from that, I know the potency of a well-kept secret, through other experiences."

....

Words. Words had just decided to take a good and proper hike. The one word Marina registered was wife. Then she snapped out of it, right there, right then, and looked up at Drago. "You're making me curious," she said softly. "That's not a very good thing, Drago." She, of all people, ought to know that curiosity isn't always good.

".... I didn't know you're married."

Lord! She had totally not meant to say that!

"Curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back," he said with a small smirk. "I'll just say Slade and I often took the jobs no one else wanted to do. And no, I am no longer married." He thought cautiously about how to phrase the next. Either she didn't recognize him from the story in the Daily Prophet, or she hadn't seen it. Either way... "She and my son passed away some years back."

"Temporarily?" Marina offered. Her eyes flickered, when he said he was no longer married. Oh. Looked like she had touched a sore spot. The last thing Marine wanted to talk to him about was divorce, or separation. But it turned out, she didn't have to talk to him, about that.

This was much worse.

"I'm so sorry -" She bit her lip and, not sure what to do, took his hand for a moment. "I shouldn't have asked, it was none of my business. I apologize." He had lost his son, too. That must have been terrible. Marina could feel sympathy swelling up, inside her.

He held up a hand in a gesture to hold what she was thinking. "Those I have lost are dear to me, though I have come to terms with what happened." Mostly. He gave her a reassuring smile. "I keep them in my heart and my thoughts, but I am moving forward with my life. The world does not stop with the loss of loved ones, and those who have not been lost have guided me through."

That was the other potency of secrets, wasn't it? Keeping them when one shouldn't.

Natasha and Damian's souls are but a little way above our heads. Staying for her to keep them company: Either she, or we, or we all must go with them.

"Close friends and loved ones make this world worth living for," he said with a slightly softer smile, his voice a richer tone. "So come; rather than sorrow for the past, let us look toward the future and becoming close."

"Those who have not been lost," Marina said softly. Trek through memory. Through the past. She didn't want to go back, or think of what she had been through. "What does one do, Mr. Carracio, when there are no close friends, no one to give one a helping hand, keep the tide of sorrow back?" She would never know, perhaps.

"There are some people who can't look towards the future," she said softly. "Without looking at the past, too. You're a courageous person, Mr. Carracio. Perhaps I'm not." She gave him a gentle smile, then shrugged her fair shoulders. This topic was closed, now.

"It has been... a challenge." He looked outward, toward the street. "Perhaps you can hear the story some time. Unadulterated by the media, and what was told to authorities. Though not here." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "It is late, and I am sure we are both worn. Perhaps we can continue our discussion elsewhere." If Cassandra found them, she would probably kill him, despite what she said. "Perhaps a comfortable place for you?"

"Media?" Marina asked softly. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know. I'm not British, Mr. Carracio." She had only started reading The Daily Prophet, two years back. When she had arrived in London, to take up her position at the Ministry. It seemed like a long, long time now, though.

She couldn't say she was too worn-out, to talk to him. He had an easy sort of grace, a sort of charm that made her want to stay. Stay with him. But Marina knew she wasn't allowed to feel this way. She barely knew this man and, in the end, an appearance can easily be deceptive.

"Wherever you like," she said softly.

Her voice had been soft, and her posture had slowly been gaining an uneasiness, though nothing about her said she wanted to get away from him. Every way she moved, every word she didn't say, spoke volumes. Now if only he could fully decipher it. Strange that a person who belied so much was somehow harder to read than a man who had shown so little. But then, he'd also known that man's every mannerism. "Mm... In that case perhaps the Leaky Cauldron would be suitable? I'll admit I'm rather fond of the place."

"Of course," Marina said. She liked the Leaky Cauldron. Of course, she had the feeling, right now, that she would have said yes, even if he had suggested a perfectly horrid place -- perhaps that wasn't a good thing. "I... should get going, now. It's getting late." She didn't like the dark. Not anymore. It was a pity, in her opinion, because it could be so pretty. Peaceful, if one chose to look at it, that way.

"Perhaps you can owl me," she said, shaking herself out of her thoughts, to look at Drago. "Good night, Drago." She gave him a little smile, pressed her hand into his for a second - maybe less, probably less - and then turned around, and headed off. Sleep would be welcome, now.

For a lot of reasons.

He nodded just enough to be perceptible. "I shall tomorrow. Good night, sleep well, and the most pleasant dreams, m'lady." He bowed lightly with a pleasant smile and politely waited for her to leave before continuing home himself.