Chapter 3

Hermione made her way slowly through a thick crowd of people. She saw the bar stools closely ahead. After pushing her way around the mob, she practically fell into the chair. Breathing deeply, she glanced up to the bartender who smiled at her. She smiled back. He was tall, built strong; arms, jaw, neck, with dark brown hair. His cheeks were freckled from the French sun and he had sparkling blue eyes. Whby was she noticing all of this about him…She saw him making his way towards her seat. Leaning elbows on the counter, he asked in a soft French accent,

"Anyzing to dreenk miss?" she looked towards the floor and shook her head. He lifted her chin up with his strong hands and stared into her eyes,

"Are you zure, I'll make it special for you." Her heart felt full and like it was pumping just a bit too hard. She smiled again and spoke quietly,

"Sure masseur." Winking at her, he started preparing something that looked very difficult, in a tall glass with lots of liquids. He set the drink on the napkin in front of her and said, "Sex on ze Beach, on ze house." Her ears felt hot, was he really flirting with her? A man, not a confusing young boy, but a real man. She felt strong, as strong as he looked, she picked up her head up and spoke directly to him,

"Thank you," saying silkily. And his conversation began.

Ron looked over in her direction, seeing her laugh with that yuppie. He slammed his mug on the counter and kicked his foot at the bar in disgust. Hitting his cut, he yelped and then pounded his fist on the table.

"Damnit!" Sitting at the bar for around twenty minutes, he had seen everything, the only thing that went unnoticed was him, seated maybe 10 seats down the bar. He had had enough. Enough of her leading him on. There was nothing left he could do to win her over. "Just look at that eye contact, she's flipping her hair, and that smile" He just wished he could make her smile like that. Ron was giving up. He just didn't understand why she told him to meet her, and now she's flirting with some bartender who she doesn't even know, right in front of his face. He wondered to himself, "I bet she's led Harry on too, just like this poor sap, and me." Not realizing he was staring at her, his focus came back and she was looking at him. Straight at him. The bartender had gone to make drinks for other pretty women. Even from the other end of the bar, he could see her flushed cheeks. He could even make out the black pen written on the napkin that sat in her hand, he could see the shapes of numbers. He raised his eye brows in a harsh acknowledgment and downed the last of his draft. Once again, slamming the glass on the table he stood up quickly and laid a bill out on the table from his pocket. As he stormed away from her again, he glanced back in her direction and gave her the coldest look he could muster without breaking down in her sight.

"This can't be happening!" Her head screamed. Everything was going so well, but that bartender, his charm just won her over in seconds. She searched the bar like it would give her answers when she noticed the bartender, Felipe, on the other side of the bar, touching a sad looking girls chin, talking, mixing a drink, saying "Sex on ze Beach, eetz on ze house." She continued to observe his play. "What a slime ball!" she said under her breath. Suddenly with this new self pride, she stood and strutted over to the sad girl, Felipe watching, and spoke loud and clear, "I'll save you some time and give you this jerks number. He just gave it to me " She glared at him, hating herself for almost falling for his princely charm act and turned away, walking. Pushing back through the throng of people, the tears came. Ron had saw everything, the heavy flirting, now she had no chance of explaining, and she'd have to explain even more if she even got the chance. Again she reminded herself "Hermione Granger, screwed up, messed up royally." She wasn't able to put a reasonable grasp on anything happening. Unaware of what was going on, she suddenly felt a hand on her wrist, she ripped her arm away, in no mood for any more games. Her train of thought was broken by her name being called.

"Hermione!" It brought her back to reality with breath taking force. She gasped at the voice.

"Ron!" She spun around to see him, standing there with her wrist in his hand. Breaking free from his grip, she engulfed him into a suffocating hug. Now instead of hiding her tears, they came freely onto his shirt. His arms surrounded her bare sobbing shoulders and he held her, right there in the middle of the crowded hotel lobby.