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“I am sorry sir, but it appears we have double booked your reservation. We will be happy to reschedule you to another evening of your choice.” The poor maître d' was doing his best to be firm in the face of the imposing wizard in front of him. His every instinct was shouting at him to capitulate, but it wasn’t worth it. Not with the remaining reservation for the evening due to arrive shortly.
“What do you mean double booked? I have a standing weekly reservation.”
“I am aware, Mr. Flint, but I cannot seat you tonight, we are fully booked.”
“Paul, you know me, you see me every week. What is going on? How could you do this to me?”
“Mr. Flint, I understand you’re upset but -” and poor Paul was cut off by the chimes of the door and a couple entering.
“Good evening, reservation for two,” a familiar male voice spoke. Marcus Flint whipped around in shock. He knew that voice. The new arrival leaned in to Paul to try and whisper, “under Granger.”
He failed.
“Really? You used MY name for this reservation?” She was clearly very annoyed at this.
Paul the maître d' was going to have an aneurysm. He worked at one of the best restaurants in Diagon Alley. He prided himself on impeccable service and discreet dining. This evening was not following his careful plan. He knew they shouldn’t have hired that chap for the lunch shift…
Marcus Flint was going to lose it. Adrian Pucey stole his table using Hermione ‘Golden Girl’ Granger’s name. He wanted his steak frites. It was Friday. There was a game tomorrow. Steak frites was crucial to his pre game prep.
Hermione Granger was irate. Here she was thinking she was going on a date with someone who wasn’t interested in her ‘war hero’ status, and had the forethought to plan ahead to get a reservation at an exclusive restaurant. Clearly he was neither. Ginny could stuff it next time she tried to tell Hermione to “get back out there.”
Adrian Pucey was oblivious.
“Oh, Marcus, hello.”
“Adrian.” Marcus crossed his arms and looked down on his former housemate. “Come here often?”
Paul looked back and forth between the two gentlemen. It appeared they knew each other… and Mr. Flint did not bring a dining companion this week. Perhaps with a bit of clever wandwork the table’s arrangements could turn from two to three…
“Mr. Flint, sir, perhaps we could reach a compromise,” Paul interjected. Both wizards turned towards him and he did his best not to flinch.
“While it is true that I only have one table left for the evening, and two reservations, I could quite easily turn that table for two into three if you would be amenable?”
Marcus shrugged. He just wanted to eat at a reasonable hour before the game tomorrow.
“Now see here! I spoke to the maître d' yesterday at noon and I was ensured a private table for two!” Adrian sputtered a bit. “I’ll have you know-”
“We’ll take it.” Hermione stated firmly. “Thank you for your quick thinking Mr…”
“Paul. His name’s Paul.” Marcus answered for him. “Lead the way Paul.” He gestured to the ‘couple’. “After you.”
As they passed by, he could almost make out Granger’s irritated muttering. “Better to have to hear about quidditch than whatever this prat thinks will impress me.”
~~~~~~~
At first the unlikely trio was silent. Awkwardly silent. Marcus didn’t even pick up his menu. Hermione had hers blocking her entire face.
And Adrian was still oblivious.
“I hear the salmon is excellent here. And the wine! Elf wine, from France of course, spectacular! Their selection of fromage is also quite-”
“Good evening, my name is Antoine, and I will be your server tonight.”
Adrian was lucky he was interrupted. Marcus had been watching Granger’s hands clench the sides of the menu as he prattled on. He was sure Adrian was about to be hexed mute otherwise.
Marcus wasted no time in ordering for himself. He had a date with his bed soon. “Antoine, steak frites, medium, and a glass of bordeaux. Please.”
“Very good sir. And for the lady?”
The menu came down with force. “Coq au vin, and make that bordeaux a bottle please.” She handed the menu over and Marcus caught her muttering again, “I’m going to need it.”
“Very good miss. And for you?”
Adrian just hummed in response.
“Sir?”
Marcus was going to thump him. “Adrian, just get the salmon.”
“Now now, can't rush making a decision on something so-”
Granger cut him off, “He'll have the salmon. Chardonnay.”
Antoine wasn't sure what was happening at this strange table but he got paid regardless.
“Thank you sirs, miss. I'll have this started right away.” He took his wand and tapped the pad of parchment to send their order to the kitchen. “I'll send the wine over now.” They seemed like they needed it.
~~~~~~~
As Hermione finished her second glass of the admittedly lovely bordeaux, she started to calm down. Adrian had seemed to get the hint, and was keeping to himself.
Flint seemed content with the silence. Hermione appreciated his apparent awareness of the situation and what she needed to relax after such an irritation. Truly, she detested using her celebrity for anything, and the fact that Adrian had the audacity to use it on ‘her’ behalf angered her like nothing else.
Perhaps she should see if Flint made an adequate dining companion. Clearly he had improved since their school days. His teeth had been fixed, skin cleared from the trials of adolescence, and filled out quite nicely. Perhaps ‘getting out there’ meant she needed to interact with someone who didn't work at the Ministry.
She cleared her throat. “You have excellent taste in wine, Flint.”
He started, then turned to her. “I, uh, don't really know too much. When I first started coming here, I tried to order a stout.” He shrugged. “The first time I came in was an accident. But Paul is a good chap, and the food is pretty great. Paul's helped me out with learning about food and wine and stuff. Plus he don't care about which quidditch team I'm on or my family. He just sees me as a loyal customer.”
She immediately felt a kinship with him. He just wanted to be himself. Just like her.
Then the food came.
~~~~~~~
The meal was excellent. Half the company wasn't terrible. Overall, not the worst way to spend a Friday.
Marcus and Hermione had continued chatting through the meal. It appears they had more in common now as adults than as schoolchildren. Both enjoyed their privacy, a quiet meal, good wine, and turns out, Marcus was a cat person.
Being a cat person was very important.
So Hermione did something very Gryffindor-ish as they left the restaurant.
“Flint-”
“Call me Marcus.”
“Right, Marcus.” She took a deep breath. “Would you like to join me for dessert at Fortescue’s?”
“Wait just a damn second!” Oh dear. Adrian the prat was speaking.
“You're my date Hermione! You can't just go have dessert with another man! And Marcus, I thought you were respectable! Stealing another man's bird just isn't sporting! Bad form!”
Marcus looked at Hermione incredulously. He turned to Adrian, “Mate, you tried to steal my table. Let's just call it even, yeah?”
Marcus turned back to Hermione and offered his elbow, “Let's go, I could do with a rum raisin.”
She took his arm, “Ooh, my favorite, think we can get two scoops to split?”
~~~~~~
Next Friday, they walked into the same restaurant. “Ah, Mr. Flint, Ms. Granger. Reservation for two?”