Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of Ron entering the store.

"Ron! I haven't seen you in over a week! Where have you been?" she gushed as she rushed over to give him a hug.

"Well, there's been a lot of Auror business to attend to," Ron said sheepishly as he hugged her back.

"Hermione," he said after a minute, "I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Pierre Rousseau. He's from France."

Hermione, who had disentangled herself from Ron, extended her hand for a handshake with the man accompanying Ron. She took in his strong features. He was blond, his hair cut short, but with some long bangs in front that swept to his left. He had rugged cheekbones and his face was incredibly chiseled. His eyes were the darkest blue she had ever seen, and they seemed to be looking right through her. He was finely dressed, a dark burgundy dress suit covering his lithe frame.

Pierre took Hermione's hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it lightly. Hermione was floored by his chivalry.

"Enchanteé, Mademoiselle," he said as he looked sultrily into her eyes.

"Oh, I just remembered," Ron broke in. "I need to check out your section on Magical Law Enforcement." He wandered over to the back of the shop.

"How did Ron and you meet up?" Hermione asked Pierre.

"I am an Auror in Paris," he said in a thick French accent. "I 'ave come every other week to train 'ere as a specialist on ex-Death Eaters. It seems we 'ave several running amok in Paris, and our Ministry is bound and determined to track them down and bring them to justice."

Hermione smiled at him. "I hope you catch them. The Death Eaters who managed to escape after the war all disappeared. I'm sure they all fled the country. Unfortunately they are now someone else's headache."

"Of course, I did not accompany my friend to chat about my work."

"Why did you come then, Mister Rousseau?" Hermione asked coyly.

"Ron 'as not stopped speaking about you since we first met. He is bound and determined for us to, 'ow do you say it, get together?"

Hermione laughed. Ron knew she had more than enough attention from the opposite sex, but he still insisted on trying to set her up whenever he could. Of course, his choice this time seemed to be a great one.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Hermione mused.

"I am," he said with a sly grin.

"Well," she thought about it for half a second. "I'd love to," she gushed.

Pierre grasped her hand again. "'Ow is tonight at six o'clock?"

"It sounds lovely."

"Shall I pick you up 'ere?" Pierre asked her.

"I live in the house around the corner. It's number 9. You can pick me up there."

Pierre gave her a smile and bowed slightly.

"How formally would you like me to dress, Mr. Rousseau?"

"You must call me Pierre," he drawled. "Please dress as you would like, I 'ave reservations at a five cauldron restaurant, if that 'elps at all."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, not only because they would be dining so elegantly, but because he had assumed she would agree to his offer.

"You seem quite sure of yourself, Pierre," she mused.

"I was just filled with 'ope, ma cherie," he said slyly.

She smiled at him as Ron wandered up next to them once again.

"Did you find anything?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Nah, nothing that will help right now."

Hermione nodded.

"How's Lavender?" Hermione asked.

Ron and Hermione had dated for a bit after the war, but had decided they worked better as friends. He had resumed his relationship with Lavender, and they had been seeing each other steadily for almost three years now.

"She's fine. She is happy with her new job at Madam Malkin's."

"I should stop in and say hi," Hermione mused, almost to herself.

"She'd like that," Ron said. "We'd best be off. Our lunch break is almost done."

Hermione smiled at the two of them.

Pierre took her hand and kissed it again. She could definitely get used to this kind of treatment.

"I shall see you at six, then, 'Ermione."

"I'll be looking forward to it, Pierre."

oooOOOooo

Hermione stared into her huge closet, wondering what she should wear. As she eyed everything, she smiled to herself. Her closet was as big as a small bedroom. The four walls were covered in every style of clothes available. There was a small door in the back of the closet that led to still another closet. This one was entirely filled with shoes. Hermione had done well for herself with her store and her adventures. Looking good was one of her indulgences. Having a nice place to live was another. Her home was bedecked with rich furniture and elaborate wood trimmings. Her eye for finer things had drawn her to some fine artwork. There were beautiful original paintings in each room, mostly by Wizarding artists, but she did enjoy a good Monet and had one displayed prominently in her sitting room. All in all, she was very comfortable with her living arrangements.

She turned back to the dilemma at hand. What to wear. She perused the dresses that copiously filled her closet. Perhaps she should choose a color first? She shook her head. Sometimes having an overabundance of clothing could be a bad thing.

Thinking more about her date, she marveled at the number of men she had seeking her company. Not a week went by when a new suitor had wandered into her shop, struck up a conversation, and had asked her to dinner. She had accepted most of their invitations, as it seemed that mostly good looking men were seeking her attention, but they had all lacked something. Good looks weren't everything, though. Most of these men had nothing upstairs. They could put normal sentences together, but anything deeper left them staring at her blankly, as if she had just arrived from another planet. She sincerely hoped that Pierre was different.

Deciding that green would be the color of the night; she eyed the green dresses she had to choose from. Finally, she chose one with a floor length skirt that had long vertical pleats in it. The color was a light green, almost a mint color. The bodice had short sleeves and a v-neck. There was a silver sash that wrapped itself around the waist of the dress several times, accentuating her curves. She smiled as she wandered over to her shoes. Hermione figured she had more shoes than Imelda Marcos. She smiled to herself as she eyed the hundreds of pairs of shoes that lined the shelves of the room. She finally chose a pair of high heeled silver strapped shoes that would accent her dress nicely. She slipped them on and exited the closet, walking over to a full length mirror that was hung on the open door of the closet. She turned and examined herself. She looked good and she knew it.

Since coming into her own, she had found hair products that made her unruly hair actually look good. She had finally come to appreciate the beautiful curls that surrounded her head, simply because she had discovered how to control them. Her hair surrounded her in graceful curls that fell below her shoulder. She went over to her dresser and opened a drawer. A myriad of hair accessories were thrown in here. She may be well off, but she had never had the time or patience to organize this drawer. She fished around and found a silver headband that had small shimmering flowers on it. She returned to the mirror and placed the headband in her hair, pulling back her curly locks away from her face, and then pushing the headband forward a tiny bit so the front part of her hair was raised slightly. Perfect.

As she primped, she heard a knock at the door. She went over and opened it to find Pierre looking at her appreciatively.

He grasped her hand again and placed yet another kiss on it.

"You look wonderful, 'Ermione," he whispered, apparently mesmerized by her appearance.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Pierre!"

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She slipped her arm through his. "I am."

Pierre pulled a crumpled soda can from his pocket.

"We will be Portkeying," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Where are we going?"

"You will see," he said mysteriously.

They appeared in front of a restaurant a few minutes later. Hermione looked around and gave a gasp. The Eiffel Tower rose high above her in the distance, filling her with wonder.

"You brought us to Paris?" she exclaimed.

"I wanted our night to be a special one," Pierre told her.

They turned and Hermione saw the restaurant they were going to dine at. Le Chaudron D'Or was written in golden letters across the top of the restaurant. There were tables with umbrellas on the street, and Hermione could see more tables inside the building. Pierre led her into the restaurant and spoke with the Maitre d'. Soon they were being led to a small room in the back. There was a single table for two in a circular room. The walls were made entirely of windows, showing a beautiful view of the city. The table was lit by candlelight.

They were seated and both studied the menu. The waiter came by and took their order. Pierre decided upon the Chateaubriand and Hermione chose the bouillabaisse. They both sat back and began to chat.

Hermione studied Pierre's devilishly good looks as he spoke about his work. He certainly was handsome. She listened as he described every aspect of his work. Their salads had long been eaten, and he was still speaking about himself. Hermione sighed and tried to break in to the conversation, but he just kept on talking, as if she wasn't there.

Their main courses came, and Hermione welcomed the silence that came with their tucking in. After remarking at how wonderful the food was, there wasn't a word. They had been quietly eating for several minutes now. Hermione decided to break the silence and ask Pierre a question.

"So, how do you, as an Auror, counteract the dark spells you sometimes come in contact with?"

Pierre thought for a moment. "We use the Protego spell," he said.

"But don't you find that your enemies expect you to use that and are prepared?"

He gave her a puzzled look. "It 'as never been a problem before."

"I have found that silently casting the repelling jinx counteracts any spell that is shot at me."

"The repelling jinx?" Pierre said.

There it was; the vacant look. Hermione sighed.

"You know, it sounds like what it's supposed to be, Repello. When cast silently, it's as if it forms a shield around you and almost any spell bounces right off of you."

"I've never 'eard of that spell or its effects."

Hermione regarded Pierre sadly. "You'll have to try it sometime."

"Yes," he said caustically. "I will."

The evening went downhill from there. It seemed that Pierre didn't like to be one upped by someone of the opposite sex, and Hermione didn't like the fact that Pierre had no interest in anything about her, but only concentrated on his fabulous self. No wonder he had made the reservations for tonight ahead of time. He thought so much of himself that it probably never occurred to him that she might have turned him down. When they had finished their dinner, they took the Portkey back to her home and bid each other goodnight.

As Hermione closed the door behind her, she reflected upon her night. It had been yet another abysmal failure of a date. She knew good looks weren't everything, but the last few months of dating had been utterly ridiculous.

A/N: Next up: Weighing her options

Thanks to all of you who gave this a peek. I appreciate you reading, and to those who left a review, a special thanks.