A/N: Lol, once again, this is for AlyBaby, who was my inspiration, and I'm proud to say is now my beta-reader! It's been so long since I posted that I'm not going to do individual thank yous, but I will whenever the next chapter comes out. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Even if I wish on a star while standing on my head, it still won't be mine. Ah well.

Hermione took a deep breath as she slid the last book from the latest shipment onto the shelf. The familiar smell of ink on paper was as comforting to her as it had always been, and it helped her calm her nerves. Worrying about the date she was going to go on in about fifteen minutes was getting her quite flustered indeed. Telling herself to calm down, she slowly walked around the bookstore straightening slightly crooked books on shelves, wiping away a bit of missed dust that always seems to collect despite everyone's best efforts to stop it.

Glancing at her watch, her mouth grew slightly dry. Only seven minutes until he was here. She dropped her face into her hands and shifted her hips until all her weight was on one foot, and rotated her other ankle slowly. Firmly reprimanding herself for worrying about something like a silly little date that wasn't going to go anywhere anyway, she raised her head from her hands, and smoothed her shirt out.

'Not going to go anywhere, huh?' whispered a little voice inside her head. 'Then I guess it was just me that felt your heart constrict yesterday.' Hermione slowly sank into a chair that was positioned next to one of the tables, and softly hit a clenched fist on its finely polished top.

"I was married to the love of my life 12 years ago. There is no point in even going on this date. We'll both just end up hurt," she spoke softly. For a second, the silence seemed to close in around her, and she found she was having trouble breathing. Suddenly, she realized what exactly it was that was making her nervous. She was scared. Scared of developing feelings for this man she had met once in her life, scared of betraying Ron's memory.

'But aren't you scared of spending the rest of your life alone? Aren't you tired of being lonely?' the little voice whispered again in its eerie way. Hermione simply shrugged one shoulder as she scratched her thumbnail along the table top and turned her head to the side, not wanting to continue the dissection of her feelings any longer.

"I don't know about you," said a deep voice from behind, "but I'd get tired of being lonely." She spun in her chair, wondering who had been reading her thoughts. She saw her date standing near the door, a solemn look on his face. Her heart gave a slight flutter again. He didn't have his hair falling free as he did the previous day; it was tied back in a black ribbon that contrasted drastically with his pale hair. His shirt seemed to mold to his form, and his pants were loose, but not to loose. The trench coat he had on over the ensemble majorly added to his appeal. Not wanting to be caught staring, she glanced at her watch, and with a start realized that she had been thinking so intently that she had managed to become four minutes late.

"I'm sorry to have just walked in, but I saw you sitting there, and the door was unlocked." His eyes took on a slightly hurt look, and he tilted his head down and looked up from under his eyelashes to talk to her.

"If you don't want to go on this date, all you had to do was say so. You didn't have to do a pity date or anything." With the way he was looking at her from under those soft eyelashes, his body saying that he was a proud man, but his face saying he was also a humble one, Hermione felt stirrings in her body she hadn't felt since they had been evoked by Ron. Drawing in a quick, deep breath, and exhaling through her nose, she tried to smile, and not concentrate on the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.

"No, no, I do. I'd really like to talk some more. It's just, that..." she trailed off slightly, but really did smile when he quirked his eyebrow at her.

"It's just that, what?" he asked, returning the small smile that hers had called forth onto his face.

"Well, I got to thinking over the conversation we had yesterday, and I realized that even though I had been a bit rude to you, you're the first man I've felt like maybe I could really talk to since my husband died. It kind of scared me," she finished, a tad bit embarrassed. Seeing his amused smile at the blush in her cheeks, it made her blush more, so she tried to change the subject.

"Which I apologize for, being rude I mean. I'm honestly not usually like that. You just had me a bit flustered is all. Really..." she frowned slightly when he raised his hand to interrupt her, still chuckling to himself.

"What is so funny?" she asked, slightly annoyed. "Do I amuse you?" He tried valiantly to keep his grin off of his face, but in the end, he failed.

"No, no, not at all. Well, I mean, yes you do amuse me, but it's in a good way. I find you interesting." Trying to keep her annoyance up, she found it rather difficult in the face of his flattering charm. Finally she found herself smiling once more, and she shook her head at herself. Thinking of something else, she did a small twirl.

"So, how do I look? Is it appropriate for wherever it is that we're going?" He nodded to her, discreetly admiring the way her red trimmed with gold shirt shaped around her petite frame, and the way her long black skirt showed class, but not poor taste. For a second, something snagged his attention. Red... and gold? Her shirt was red and gold? Something about that, plus the way that she seemed so familiar to him felt like something he should be able to put his finger on, but just couldn't quite place it.

The silence reigned in then, but he wasn't aware of it as he tried to puzzle out her mystery. Glancing at her again, he noticed her staring at the floor, rolling her ankle back and forth, making her skirt sway softly with the movement. He stepped forward, and reached out to gently raise her chin with one slender finger. Her head came up easily, not at all resisting, and brown eyes met silver, both filled to the brim with curiosity, though for slightly different reasons.

His thumb seemed to come up of its own accord to rub gently back and forth over her lips and he searched her face, not even sure what it was he was looking for. Some clue to her past, to her history.

He felt her draw a shaky breath and realized that his hand had shifted up to rest along her jawbone, his index finger resting on the edge of her earlobe, and he had been leaning his face closer and closer.

Hermione started to lean into what seemed to be a kiss, but she saw a flashback that looked like Draco Malfoy's face the same distance from hers that this man's was, threatening her, and she gasped and jerked her head to the side.

Frowning in puzzlement, he gently turned her head back around. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by the insistent rapping on the front door. Glad for the excuse to break free, Hermione turned and jogged towards the front door, although her small black high-heels made it slightly difficult for her.

"Yes," she asked the woman standing outside. The woman flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and looked down her nose at Hermione.

"I see that the sign says you close at five tonight, but you're still here, and I'd like to pick up a book. So if you'll let me in, I'll only be a few minutes." Hermione frowned at the woman's demand, poorly disguised as a request.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied, "But you did read the sign right. We're closed. You'll have to come back tomorrow. I'm just here cleaning up." The woman took in Hermione's flushed features, and glanced past her to see a handsome man re-tying his hair ribbon.

"Cleaning up. Yeah. Right." She gave Hermione a pointed look and turned on her heel to merge into the crowd. Hermione sighed as she turned back around to face her date. He only smiled at her and held his arm out in a gentlemanly way. She hesitated for only a split second before slipping her arm through his and smiling back.

"Are we ready?" he asked her. She nodded, and locked the door behind them as they slipped through it. As she began to look around, she groaned.

"What is it?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together. She held her keys up and jangled them.

"I forgot my purse, which means I have no where to put these." She smiled ruefully. "No pockets." He smiled back as he reached out and plucked them from her small hand and dropped them uncaringly into his pocket.

"Just remember to get them when I take you home tonight," he told her. "Knowing me, I'd forget about them and not find them for a month!"

Laughing together, they slipped into the crowd in the fading sunlight, as he took twisting and turning cobbled streets to whatever location it was he had in mind. Laughing and joking with each other, talking about whatever happened to catch their eye, they were taking their time walking, neither in any particular hurry to get anywhere. He had been pointing to a shirt which he felt was an appalling color, about to make a joke about it, when he felt her slip off his arm. He turned towards her, a questioning look on his face, only to see the back of her curls disappearing into the crowd. Totally bewildered, he glanced both directions looking for some clue as to the reason she had just taken off, before he began to push through the crowd after her.

It wasn't too long before he found her, standing next to a lamp-post, one arm hanging limply at her side, and the fingers on her other hand covering her lips. He could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Glancing back towards where they had just been standing, his heart went out to her when he realized what it was that she was looking at.

The couple across the street kept sharing loving looks, and they were holding hands with their little girl, who didn't look quite sure if she could walk by herself. Hermione bit her lip when the woman gave a laugh filled with love at something the man said, and leaned in to give him a kiss over their little girl's head. The little girl looked up at her parents and frowned when she discovered that their attention wasn't focused solely on her, and tugged her father's hand in an attempt to be picked up. Her father obliged, took his wife's hand, and took both of them into a clothing store.

Looking at Hermione's troubled face, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You miss him a lot, huh? Your husband, I mean," he asked her, wondering silently to himself why his heart cared so much for this woman whom he had known for less than a day; why his heart was thudding in his chest, not wanting to hear her answer, even when he knew what it was going to be.

She nodded mutely, and his heart clenched, as he knew it would. She looked up at him, and noticing the way she twisted her body, he thought she was going to fall into his arms and cry against his chest. And as surprised as he was when his heart gave another jump at this thought, he was even more surprised when she only gave a shaky laugh and wiped at her eyes.

"I don't know why it's hitting me so hard right now. It's all I've been able to think about lately. I just keep seeing stuff like that and thinking, 'That should have been us.'" His heart began to ache when she had finished speaking, and he raised a hand to rub his chest, wondering why it kept acting so funny.

Suddenly remembering something that he had been wondering, he opened his mouth to ask her, but seeing the look on her face, all that came out was a sigh before he closed it again.

"What?" she asked, before blinking and looking at his hand, which was still resting on her shoulder. He jerked it back as if her shoulder was a red-hot coal.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. She just gave him a little smile which was the most she could muster up at the moment. Then a slightly curious look crossed her face, taking away some of the pain that had been visible.

"What was it you were going to say?" He only ducked his head a little, looking around for something that might be able to help him stall.

"I…uhhh…" He spotted a small cat sitting on the curb of the street and he smiled brightly, though it was false.

"Isn't that a cute cat?" He held the smile as he looked at her, even thought she gave him a 'Yeah, like that worked' expression.

"Yes. It's cute. Don't change the subject," she said, sounding only slightly annoyed. His hand came up to the back of his neck, and he rubbed it, not sure what to say.

"Well, you see…Well, we don't know each other's names. But I thought that right in the middle of an emotional moment was probably not the best time in the world to ask."

Hermione's eyes widened a bit before she nodded.

"Ah. Yes, I can see that. Well, umm…" she coughed slightly and wrung her hands together as if she wasn't sure what to do with them.

"Well, now that I'm over my emotional moment, should we continue on?" She glanced at him nervously, before she looked away, scared that he would tell her she was a freak, and to just go home.

"Of course we should," he said indignantly. Simply smiling and shaking his head at her, even though he hadn't missed her avoidance of his question, he offered his arm to her once again before he led her off in the direction of their restaurant.

"I understand," he said softly, after a few minutes of silence. "Don't feel bad about hurting because you lost someone you love, even if you did lose them a long time ago." She looked up at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. When he had started to speak, it was as if they were having this conversation in a car at night while driving somewhere, not walking down a street in London.

"I lost someone once too. She was very important to me, and it was my fault she died. I haven't forgiven myself for that, and it hurts me everyday. I would never judge anyone because they care about someone that's gone."

Hermione's eyes stung with tears, for both herself and him, and her hand tightened its grip on his arm. She didn't slow her stride, but as she took in the beautiful sunset before them and all of the laughing, happy people around them, it didn't seem as if their heartfelt, painful conversation belonged in the innocence she suddenly saw surrounding her.

"Was it your wife?" she asked softly, not sure if she wanted to ask why it was his fault. He smiled a little at that thought.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It was my mother." Hermione continued to look at the ground as she walked, trying to discreetly wipe her eyes.

"Tell me about her," she said shakily. When he just looked at her sideways, she added "Please." He was silent for a few more moments before he took a deep breath.

"She was a beautiful woman, my mother," he said smiling, as he became lost in his memories, leaving Hermione to try to keep him from bumping into people.

"She had this long blonde hair that I loved to play with when I was little. She would always humor me and let me brush it, even though she knew it was just a ploy so that I could mess it up. She had silver eyes too, like mine. She always said she had no idea where they came from, because she didn't know of anyone else in her family who had them." He glanced at Hermione abruptly, only to see that she was gazing at him, apparently drinking in everything he was saying. Smiling because she was truly listening, he continued.

"She loved roses - her favorite flower. By the time I was fifteen I practically hated the things because she always had them all over the house. Now I wish that just once, I had brought her some that I had cut myself." Not realizing that Hermione was distressed by that sentence, he continued on, with his eyes somewhere far away.

"She wasn't always peaches and cream though. Mother had a superiority complex. A very big one. She tried to be nice, but she always thought that she was just a little bit better than everyone else. She knew that she did, and tried to control it, but when she had to go into public, that nose of hers would go right up into the air, and she wouldn't even realize it." Hermione had to laugh at that, and that brought him out of his thoughts. He smiled softly back at her before taking a look around.

"My gosh, we've walked right past the restaurant! I'm sorry." Chuckling warmly at himself, he turned Hermione around.

"Come on, my dear, our dinner awaits us." He said dramatically. She frowned up at him in confusion.

"But the only restaurant we passed was…" She trailed off as her eyes widened.

"You got us reservations at The Isle?!" Her eyes shone brightly, with no trace of tears left in them, as she made him stop and turn to look at her. He couldn't help but be amazed at her mood swings.

"Yes, I did. I hope that's ok?" He stated it as a question, and Hermione simply beamed up at him.

"This is much better than ok. I've always wanted to go here, but never had the time! Oh thank you so much! Let's go!" Laughing as he let her pull him along by the hand, he couldn't help but notice what her hips did for that skirt as she walked.

Entranced, he simply let her lead him for the entire ten seconds it took to walk back to the restaurant. As he suddenly remembered something, he snapped his gaze up to her hair as he tugged her hand back towards him so that she would turn around.

She simply looked at him confused, even though she was still smiling. His smiled widely back at her, unconsciously noting how much of that he had been doing around her.

"You never told me your name."

A/N: Hope you all liked it and that it was ok. I'm not sure where I'm going to go from here, because there are just so many possible roads. I promise, promise, promise to have the next chapter up soon! Cross my heart, hope to die.