[paris] secret smile. [tag; èdouard]

Erika had nothing to wear.

It was getting late and she was starting to panic. What on Earth were you supposed to wear to dinner in Paris? Paris. Gastronomic and fashion capital of the world. In her wardrobe, all she had was jeans, tee shirts and shorts. She didn't need anything else. She spent nine months of the year in the hottest climates of the world. She frowned. She stood in her underwear in front of her clothes, most of them thrown around her bedroom as she chewed on a sensibly short nail which was painted a chic pale cream colour.

It wasn't a date. Èdouard was engaged. It was just dinner…so why did she feel so nervous? She hadn't had dinner with him before which sounded downright bizarre considering just how long they'd been friends but they'd been three hundred or so miles apart for most of their friendship. And she wasn't going to let him pay. Dutifully enough, Èdouard had sent her a letter that very same day with a time and a place written on it. Erika had no idea where it was but it sounded very fancy. Her mother told her it was always best to be overdressed instead of underdressed. She shifted uncomfortably. She did have one dress. Her mother had sent it a few weeks ago but it remained stubbornly wrapped in brown paper. She let out a groan. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Heaving a sigh, Erika unwrapped the dress again and wriggled into it, turning to zip the dress up. It would be okay. Hopefully. It was modestly cut with lace overlay and sleeves and came to just below her knee in a pencil skirt and had a champagne coloured sash around her middle.

Erika frowned at her reflection as she lifted a hand to absently adjust her long blonde hair that had been artfully and skilfully twisted, braided and set. She was wearing a simple pair of sparkly stud earrings, keeping her make up simple with a coat of mascara, eyeliner and a slick of ruby red lipstick. She was looking forward to properly catching up with him. She wanted to hear all about his fiancée, Amelia. Was it Amelia? Or Anastasia? She really needed to figure that out. She didn't want to seem rude.

Stopping at the door to slip into her nude coloured heels and shrug on her beige coloured mackintosh, Erika hastily threw her keys, her purse and some extra lipstick into her pretty little clutch, closed her eyes and apparated, hoping for the best. When she landed a few seconds later in a dark alleyway, she wobbled on her heels and let out a string of colourful swear words as she strode off. Paris was damp tonight. It must have been raining. The darkened sky was a lovely shade of deep, inky blue; there weren't any stars tonight.

Following directions she'd been given, the tall blonde skidded to a halt at the grand entrance and her jaw actually dropped open. "Holy shit," she whispered as a tall man in emerald green livery offered her a smile and opened the door for her. Still dazed and confused, she blinked her big blue eyes before returning the smile and stepping inside, the rush of warm air and the scent of vanilla hit her like a bludger to the face.

This place was crazy. And very, very French. Erika suddenly felt a bit self conscious. She should have been wearing a damned ball gown. There were flashes of gold everywhere with rich, cream table clothes and tall windows that showed cold, wet Paris in all it's glory. There was an actual chandelier! Erika was utterly dumbstruck, wondering if she'd accidentally wandered into Cinderella's castle. Le Meurice, it was called. She had no idea what it meant. Probably something swish and fancy. Or maybe it was one of those uber cool things that didn't actually have a meaning? Either way, she had no idea how the Hell Èd had managed to wrangle a table here. Unless he had super powers. That'd be pretty sweet.

She was running just a tad late, he'd said seven thirty and it was now quarter to eight, and a cough from her left made her refocus. A man appeared and asked if he could take her coat. She'd never had her coat checked before. "Oh thanks," she said, sounding a bit lost as she peeled off her coat to reveal her pretty little ivory dress as a small, pretty brunette asked what name the reservation was under. She stalled. He'd made a reservation? Who was he? The king of France? My, my, my.

"Er, Vadeboncoeur?" Erika asked, sounding decidedly unsure as to whether or not Èdouard had used his name. Then it hit her; duh. How else was he supposed to make a reservation if he didn't use his name? She was such a dolt. Blowing at a loose lock of hair as she clasped her hands in front of her and waited, she looked around and saw him sitting down and a wide smile lit up her face. Swiftly, she lifted and arm and waved to him quickly.

After meeting Aimeè, so much of his life had become... Muggle-ized... Everything he did was in conjunction with some muggle part of him, and while he was a halfblood with four muggle grandparents, part of it still felt strange. He spent some portion of his time working with muggles and with muggle things for work, and he had not intended it, but he fell in love with a muggle as well. Aimeè was a beautiful person on the outside, and while sometimes she was difficult for Èd to handle, she wasn't always this way. It seemed like after he proposed to her things went downhill, but Èd was fighting the change with all of his might. He tried to convince himself that she was going to fix herself in time for them to be wed. Her poor attitude was a turn off, but it wasn't enough for him to call off their wedding. They had people to make proud, and Èdouard's mother loved Aimeè so much.

Something inside Èd changed the moment that he saw Erika again. In the time since he had seen her, he thought of little else but her. It had been entirely unexpected, and like something out of his wildest dreams. It was an unfortunate thing to admit, but after they had lost touch, Èd had given up on her. He blamed himself for the separation that occurred between Erika and himself, but now it seemed like all of that regret was washed away now that she had made her way back into his life.

Now he was fortunate enough to be taking her out to dinner. He called the restaurant, a muggle one, and made the reservations the day previously, and now all he had to do was watch the clock until 6:45 on Friday evening, when he would be able to see her again. He was excited and happier than he'd been in a long time, but for whatever reason, he felt wrong for feeling so. Maybe there were some underlying feelings still there, but he would do his best to push those feelings to the side. He had his Aimeè and after spending lots of money on the ring that was on her finger, he would rather not mess that up. She would come around.

Before he knew it, the time was catching up with him, and while he rushed to the restaurant, he swore to himself for nearly being late. She was sure to give him flack for this. "Vadeboncoeur," He muttered to the host, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. While the host searched for his seating chart, Èdouard took a look around for himself. He'd never been to this restaurant before, but he had heard good things from a friend of Aimeè's, an older, married man who seemed respectful enough. He followed the host to their table, and was relieved to see that Erika hadn't made it here yet. That meant that he had time to mentally prepare himself for a night of catching up. He was nervous as hell.

After what felt like less than a minute of waiting, Erika walked through the door, and he saw her before she saw him. Waiting for her eyes to land on him, he fidgeted with the silverware, looking for something to do with his hands. He felt more nervous now than he had before he asked Aimeè to marry him, and something about that was wrong. He would try not to think about it. He waved to her and stood up as she made her way over to him, holding his breath all the while.

This was so fancy! Erika didn't think she'd been anywhere quite as extravagant before. It felt like she was waiting to meet some sort of royalty. She didn't mind waiting to be seated, this was actually rather fun. The placed she tended to eat were usually seat-yourself-and-grab-a-beer kinda establishments but this. Wow. For her first time dining in the French capital, Èdouard had done a bang up job picking a place to show her. She was excited. Not really for the food, it was all for him.

"Oh," Erika said, surprised as someone appeared and out of panic, she jumped. Uh-oh. Was she dressed okay? She in no way matched the extravagant, beautiful furnishings with the heavy curtains and glittering lights. She nervously fidgeted with her white dress, pulling it down a little more. She felt a bit uncomfortable. She'd never worn something so clingy and posh. She hoped she wouldn't bring the restaurant into disrepute by her choice of outfit.

The tall blonde followed the host, jaw hanging open as her long bare legs strode through the centre of the restaurant and past the cute little tables. This place was clearly catered for couples. Most tables had two chairs and sweet little tea lights in place, casting everything into a soft romantic glow. It was gorgeous. She was in love. "Ah, merci," Erika said brightly as a chair was pulled out for her by the host, using what little French she knew as she thanked them before turning her attention back to her companion.

She stepped around and came closer to him. She didn't really do the whole continental French thing of kissing both cheeks. It was fussy and awkward and she bumped noses so she settled for the traditional British notion of kissing him on his left cheek and squeezing his arm affectionately. He looked…sad almost. The thought made her frown a little before she switched it and offered him another smile.

"You look great," she said, trying to ignore the weird thing her hormones were doing. "Stressed but great," she laughed as she self consciously touched her braided hairdo and slid her hands over her hip. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she frowned, looking genuinely upset. "I got lost. Twice," she admitted as her shoulders slumped. "But a nice little man in a flat cap showed me the way," she said brightly. In hindsight, he could have done anything to her in the dark.

Erika sat down quickly, her eyes wide as she looked around. "Èd, this is gorgeous," she gushed, sounding rather enamoured by her surroundings. "How on Earth did you manage to get reservations?" She asked, sounding awed. It was December now, she was expecting it to be full of couples. Wedding anniversaries, celebrations, a little dinner out "just because." She looked around and a gaze fell on an elderly couple holding hands over the table. They were adorable and she couldn't help but smile.

Just then, a small man wearing black and white appeared at their table, causing Erika to jump. Wow. Did ninjas work here? "What wine would the lady like to try?" he asked in a smooth, very French accent that made his pencil moustache quiver and she tried not to giggle at the clanging great cliché in front of her. Crap. Wine. All she knew about wine was that white was meant to be chilled and red was meant to be served at room temperature. Or was it the other way around? It was like a minefield.

"Er," she said intelligently as she looked over at Èdouard, giving him a silent plea for help. If anyone knew about wine, it must be him. He was a professional young man. He must have wined and dined a hundred girls before he found his fiancée. Awkward. The sommelier simply offered a wry smile. He must be used to dilly-dallying by patrons. Erika felt bad but she wanted to ask if they could have the cheapest bottle on the menu. It wasn't a date and even if it was, there was no way Erika was expecting him to pay for anything. She was a modern woman!

The sommelier left and she opened the menu, running her pale fingers tips over the embossed leather cover, letting out an impressed whistle as she opened it. She felt giddy. Excitement positively rolled off her in waves as she bounced in her seat, she didn't even realise she was doing it. "Thank you so much for inviting me out," she said, offering the Auror a genuine smile of thanks. She hadn't spend any amount of time with Èdouard since she was fifteen years old and she couldn't think of a better place. He probably wanted to tell her all about his impending nuptials. She'd have to grin and bear it.

There was a small cut white rose, fully in bloom on their table in a small little vase, next to the tea lights on the white table cloths. Erika reached out to touch it, her pale fingers stroking the velvety petals of the bloom before picking it up and holding it to her face to smell it. Real flowers. Check.

She was still smiling as she turned her head to look out of one of the tall windows at rain soaked Paris in all its glory. "It's beautiful," she sighed wistfully, her eyes glassing over as she was lost in thought momentarily. "How have you been?" she asked once she pulled her eyes away, offering him a dimpled grin at the question. "Are you doing anything fun and exciting for Christmas?" How mundane. She felt a bit worried. He didn't quite look like himself at all. "Oh wow, truffles," she gasped, her eyes wide in wonder as she glanced at the menu again.