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Hermione tapped her fingernails on the top of the small round table, rather impatiently. But then again, perhaps she had reason to be impatient. It was an hour past the time he had set to meet her, and at a muggle pub at that, as surprising as it was. True, it was a nice pub, cosy and quiet, but not the ideal place for talking about bonding and possibly magical issues with said bonding.
And for all that they got the little issues worked out, they still had to set a date for the bonding ceremony, then finish up all the planning that came with said bonding service. And they only had less than two months (and a day!) before they had to be bonded.
Hermione startled as a quiet *ahem* shook her out of her thoughts. She smiled up at the waitress. “Yes?”
The waitress, an older woman with silvering red hair tied back in a braid, handed her a drink. “From the bloke at the bar with the black hair.”
Hermione spare a quick glance to said man. Fit, definitely. And handsome. She looked at the drink, then at her watch, then at the drink once more, before sighing and looking back at the waitress. “Sorry. Please take it back and tell him I’m engaged.”
The waitress sent a glance at her hand. “Really, duck?” she shook her head slightly. “Well, if you insist.”
Hermione spared a quick grin, and held up her hand. “Yes, I know it doesn’t look like it, but I really am happily engaged. My ring was too tight.”
The waitress gave her a smile, and a nod, and then left to go back to the man at the bar.
Hermione dropped her hand, other hand rubbing absentmindedly at the empty ring finger. That was only one of the issues. She knew, she really did know, that it was a muggle tradition, the engagement ring, and rings in general, but it just didn’t feel proper. And, it would be awkward, bringing it up to Draco. Harry might think of it, but even now, he and Draco didn’t get along.
No, especially now. Harry accused Draco of tinkering with the results of the law. To be fair, so did the Weasleys. Hell, even Hermione suspected him at first. But now... Narcissa was more likely! And that... well, when pigs fly.
Hermione looked up, a sharp retort on her lips when she was jolted out of her thoughts once more, but the words trailed off when she saw who it was. It was the bloody black-haired man from the bar, two drinks in his hand.
She growled slightly, as he tried to hand her one with an easy grin. “Hey, you’re a pretty gal. Have a drink, on me.”
She pushed the drink away, but gently. “No, sorry. You don’t want to mess with my fiancee.”
The mans’ eyes’ trailed down her arm slowly, to her hand, then back up to her face, with a leer. “Doesn’t look like it, luv. Surely you are free for a few minutes?”
Hermione stood up with a huff. “Okay, let me rephrase that. I am engaged. Now, go away, or I’ll call the coppers.”
She stared as the man had the audacity to sit down, in her chair. Her mouth dropped open at his response. “You are bluffing. You have no more business in this world than I do, Hermione Granger.”
Without a word, she turned on her heel and apparated to the Manor. If she had stayed a few more minutes, she would have seen the mans’ appearance falter and change. She would have seen him stand up and run a hand through his hair, a rather silly grin out of place on his normally near-expressionless face. She would have seen him turn on his heel and apparate just as she did.
But she didn’t. She went to go complain about her fiancees’ tardiness to the only one who could make him listen, his mother.