Hogsmeade?! At that, Gideon could not help but perk up—the pull of familiarity all the more justified, the possibility of continuing an acquaintance once the masks came off much greater.
"I confess, I am much the same," the healer allowed with a lop-sided grin, "inasmuch as I do not visit the city as often as I might like—society seems unable, at times, to decide if it would prefer Hogsmeade or London." And he scarcely had time to follow the whims of society as it was.
As he spoke, he scanned for some sort of clue—any—as to her identity, but came up empty-handed. Pretty, young, with pale hair and a melodic voice. These all narrowed it down, to be sure, but were not themselves as conclusive a list as Gideon might have liked.
"I confess, I am much the same," the healer allowed with a lop-sided grin, "inasmuch as I do not visit the city as often as I might like—society seems unable, at times, to decide if it would prefer Hogsmeade or London." And he scarcely had time to follow the whims of society as it was.
As he spoke, he scanned for some sort of clue—any—as to her identity, but came up empty-handed. Pretty, young, with pale hair and a melodic voice. These all narrowed it down, to be sure, but were not themselves as conclusive a list as Gideon might have liked.