A/N: This story has been sitting in my laptop for months now and I've only just got the courage to post it. Thank you to Untold Harmony, Tyrannicpuppy and Elwin for being my betas. You guys rock!

Enjoy!

"Alright! That's enough practice, everyone!"

Coach Armond Lewis called out to the team who were still hovering mid-air. "Head on to the locker rooms and get your arses out of here!" He said. He got a chorus of replies then turned to head into his office. One by one the players of the Puddlemere United descended onto the grounds of the quidditch pitch.

"That practice was torture!" Rebecca Dawson, one of the starting chasers, complained as she walked towards the locker rooms.

"You can say that again. Lewis was like a demon out of hell today," Matthew George, one of the beaters said with a groan while he dragged both his broom and his beater bat behind him.

"It wasn't that bad," Harry Potter, the team's seeker and captain, chimed in.

His childhood best friend and Puddlemere's starting keeper, Ronald Weasley, snorted beside him. "Of course it wasn't that bad for you, he wasn't shouting at you the whole time," the keeper said.

"I think he's just really frustrated about the last championships," Prudence Merrell, another chaser, said.

"Well, who wasn't, really?" Ron replied, "We all were—still are! Harry may have caught the snitch but the points just weren't enough. We just gotta do better this coming season."

"And that's why Lewis has been drilling us like there's no tomorrow," Harry said as they entered the locker rooms.

"Well, I'm beat! Thank Merlin we don't have practice tomorrow or I might just fall asleep on my broom in the middle of it!" Frederick Bloomberg, the other beater, shouted as he entered the shower area.

The other players simply laughed or agreed.

After half an hour, most of the players have left the locker room. Only Ron and Harry were the last to remain inside.

"You sure you don't wanna come with me to The Burrow?" Ron asked again.

"I'm sure, Ron," Harry sighed, "I love your family, you know that. But it can get overwhelming there sometimes." Especially when Mrs. Weasley has been dropping hints about settling down for quite some time now, he silently added.

Ron, having known Harry for more than a decade and a half, understood what he didn't say. He simply nodded because he was also dealing with the same thing from his mother. He stood up and clapped Harry on the shoulder before leaving the locker room.

It wasn't that Harry was averse to the idea of settling down. He actually thought it would be nice, he was turning 26 after all, and he knew he should start thinking about it already. But the problem with his fame was that many women only wanted to date THE Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived, then The-Man-Who-Conquered after his defeat of Voldemort several years back, now Seeker for Puddlemere United and one of the best in the league's history. He hadn't met any woman who wanted to date the man behind the name: just plain, awkward, normal Harry.

He didn't know how long he sat there but he was brought out of his musings when he heard a voice from outside the room. Curious as to who was there, he opened the door and checked the corridor. There, standing by the opening that led to the grounds, was a woman.

"Oh dear, I should have paid more attention to where I was going," he heard the woman state as she turned from right to left.

Harry leant on the door frame, silently watching the woman from behind. He noticed she had curly, brunette hair which was tied in a high ponytail on her head. She was wearing a pale gray coat which ended mid-thigh and he assumed she was wearing a skirt or a dress as her shapely legs were exposed below her coat. And on her feet were black stiletto shoes that always had him wondering how women could manage to walk in them, but they did make their legs look amazing.

Harry chuckled to himself and took pity on the lost woman. He cleared his throat and called out to her, "Hey there. Got lost or something?"

The distraught woman finally turned around and he was thankful he was leaning on something or he would have staggered back as he finally got a good look on her face. Her smile of relief only gave her face a more angelic visage. She had the most beautiful cinnamon-colored eyes he had ever seen, framed by the long dark lashes, a cute little button nose in the middle of her face and her lips. Damn! They were pinkish-red and definitely kissable. He wondered briefly if they were as soft as they looked. Her face had barely any make-up on it and he liked that a lot.

"Oh thank goodness, another human being!" She exclaimed as she ran towards him. How she could run in those things, he would never know. "I've been going back and forth here for the past 15 minutes!" She continued breathlessly. Her voice did funny things to Harry's stomach.

He cleared his throat again."Well, where are you headed?" He asked.

"Uhm," she looked down at the papers in her hand, "I was supposed to go to the Puddlemere United head office and meet with Mr. Gregson."

"Ah, the team owner. You must've taken the lifts down, instead of up," Harry said, pointing upwards with his index finger while wondering what her business was with the owner of Puddlemere United.

"Oh, I knew it!" She uttered, her cheeks got a hint of blush, probably from embarrassment.

He laughed as he stood straight and started leading her towards the direction of the lifts. "You just need to go back to the lifts and press UD—that's for the upper deck—where the offices are. They're on top of the audience stands."

"Thank you so much! I've never been here before and I thought I was going to be lost forever!" She said as she got into one of the lifts.

"Thanks again!" She exclaimed as the doors closed, the lift taking her to the higher floors. That's when Harry realized that he didn't even get her name. Idiot, he berated himself. Well, he thought, if she had business with Mr. Gregson then he was bound to bump into her again sometime.. I just hope it's sooner rather than later, he told himself, as he took his duffel bag from the locker room and headed to the nearest apparition point so he could apparate home.

"All seems to be going well. We're looking forward to the party, Ms. Granger," Orpheus Gregson said, holding out his hand towards her.

"We are very excited, as well, sir," Hermione Granger replied, as she tried her best to keep her expression as professional as possible. "Thank you so much for hiring our company to plan this event."

Mr. Gregson gave her a smile and a nod. "Well, your company was referred to me with the highest recommendations and I'm glad to see that everything I was told is true. I will see you and Ms. Ackleman at the party, then." He stood up and left the conference room, along with his secretary, who also gave her a smile.

Hermione let out a breath before breaking into a huge smile. Margarethe was going to be so happy that Mr. Gregson was satisfied with their plans for the Puddlemere United Annual Quidditch Season Opening Party. She was overjoyed that Margarethe got her on board for this event. Between managing her bookshop, The Bookend, co-owning and working part-time at Margarethe's event organizing company, The Magic Touch, and with the chaos at home, she definitely got her hands full at the moment. But, she was loving every minute of it. Hermione collected all the documents and photos she showed Mr. Gregson and proceeded to leave the office.

While she waited by the lift, she finally had a moment to think about her 'saviour'. She almost smacked herself on the head when she belatedly realized that it was the ever-famous Harry Potter. Of course, he didn't have to introduce himself to her because she would recognize those deep green eyes and that tousled, just-got-out-of-bed raven hair anywhere. Now that she wasn't lost and distressed about almost missing her appointment, she thought about how good-looking he was as he stood there, leaning against the door and smiling at her. And she didn't even get to introduce herself! Another reason to smack herself on the head. There she was, probably having a once-in-a-lifetime moment with the most famous wizard of their time and she never got to give him her name, not that he asked her for it, either. As the lift doors opened, she stepped inside and sighed. Oh well, she thought to herself, I doubt he'll remember me if we ever saw each other again. Hermione decided that she would keep that encounter as one of those good memories she can look back to on a good day as she walked out of the Quidditch pitch so she could apparate to The Magic Touch.

"Thanks again for helping out, Hermione," Margarethe Ackleman told Hermione for what seemed like the hundredth time since she agreed to work part-time for The Magic Touch.

"And as I've told you—like the hundred other times I've done this—Margarethe, it's nothing. I'm your partner in this business, just like you are a partner in mine, so no need to thank me," she replied with a teasing smile.

"But I know you've got your elbows deep in The Bookend and at home. Another job seemed like too much, especially since your bookshop is doing quite well now," Margarethe said. What her friend said brought another smile to her face. The Bookend had indeed been doing well for a while now and become a source of pride and happiness for her.

"And that's why I could do this job and have The Bookend at the same time," Hermione responded as she arranged some papers on one of the filing cabinets in Margarethe's office, "I have Alice and Stephen manning the bookshop. Besides, they're just next door so I can check up on things there and do my work here anytime I want."

"I just don't want you burning out, Hermione," she said as she threw an arm around Hermione's shoulders, concern evident on her face. Hermione looked up at her beautiful friend. Margarethe—with her blue eyes, short blonde hair that reached just a little under her chin, tall nose and full lips, her slender and statuesque figure that belonged more on a runway than in an office—many had wondered how she ended up being best friends with the biggest nerd in town. Many do not realize that behind that beautiful face was a sharp and brilliant mind. She had known Margarethe since their first days in Beauxbatons. She had been there for Hermione through the darkest days of her life and she couldn't have asked for a better friend. So when Margarethe decided to move to London a little over two years ago, she decided to move with her. They had helped each other with setting up and starting their businesses at the same time. While Hermione worked at her bookshop full-time, more often than not, she usually helped out at Margarethe's business whenever she had big events coming up, although she also had her own staff. Margarethe would also help out at The Bookend, especially during summer, when the school year was about to start.

"Don't worry about me, Margarethe. I'm perfectly fine and I can handle everything," she told her friend, trying her best to assuage her concerns.

"Well, of course. You're Ms. Super Witch! Brightest Witch Of Our Age!" she teased.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, you know that at a certain point in my life, I wasn't all that bright."

Margarethe was glad that her friend can finally laugh at what happened in her past, so she laughed too. "Even at your most 'unbright' moment, you were still brighter than most of the students at Beauxbatons combined!"

"You can say that again!" Both women laughed again as they continued to do their work for the biggest event they had ever organized to date.

They had booked the largest ballroom of the Hôtel de Magnifique, the classiest and most expensive hotel in Magical London. The interiors were made in French Baroque style with golden metal works decorating the cream-coloured walls and ceilings in intricate designs. The floors were tiled marble in white and grey while the ceiling was painted with various imageries. A large chandelier hung at the middle of the ceiling and several smaller chandeliers also hung intermittently around the ballroom. The party had been in full swing for the past hour or so and everything was still in order. Food had been prepared and served perfectly, the drinks were flowing endlessly (which would surely result in a lot of drunken witches and wizards, to which Margarethe and Hermione had already foreseen and they made sure that a means of safe transport for each person to their chosen destination would be available), the music was top-notch, and it seemed like everyone was having a good time. Mr. Gregson had the party organized annually to celebrate the Puddlemere United Quidditch team and to welcome the upcoming Quidditch season, which started in a month's time, and also raise donations for the charities that he and team supported.

After circling the ballroom to make sure everything was still in order, Hermione made a pit stop at the bar and spoke to the bartenders. She passed along compliments from some of the attendees about the delicious cocktails being served. She joked that they should keep on making the guests drink so they would be less inhibited and end up giving more money to the charities. As the bartenders moved about to serve other clients, Hermione took a moment to sit at one of the stools by the bar so she could catch a bit of a break. She could feel her shoes slowly but surely killing her feet, but such is the price to pay for an event of this kind. As much as she wanted to be in her comfy pyjamas, loose shirt, and woolly socks, she had to dress up for this extravagant event. She was just observing the mingling crowd when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"I hope you're not lost again."

Hermione turned her seat around and came face to face with none other than Harry Potter. She couldn't help her eyes as they swept along his body. He was wearing a muggle tuxedo underneath his wizarding robes. Hmm, interesting choice, she thought, since almost everyone in the ballroom was wearing wizard dress robes. And the blackness of his tux and robes served only to highlight those captivating green eyes, which seemed to be sweeping along her body, as well. She was surprised at the heat that blossomed in her, beginning from her core, with just that look in his eyes. Oh sure, Harry Potter was quite a good-looking man (he could possibly be the most gorgeous man in the whole room) and to be the recipient of his attentions took her breath away. But it also confused her, because there were other, more beautiful women at the event and she was so sure he'd have forgotten about her by now. It had been weeks since their rather brief encounter at the Puddlemere United Quidditch Stadium and she wondered if he sought her out after he saw her sitting by the bar.

For the second time in a few short weeks, Harry was taken aback by those golden-brown eyes when they rested upon him. It never occurred to him that he would see her tonight, but when he was looking around aimlessly at the crowd and saw her sitting by the bar, he knew that, somehow, fate had brought them both here for some reason or another. She was wearing a simple black cocktail dress with thin straps on her shoulders that wrapped around her ample curves. The skirt of the dress rode a bit high on her thigh as she had her shapely legs crossed. On her feet were the same black stilettos she wore when they 'met' weeks ago. Her brown hair was styled on top of her head, with some curls cascading down, lightly touching her face and neck. He realized that she was surprised that he was speaking to her, which made him wonder why. She composed herself rather swiftly and gave him a self-conscious smile before answering.

"Uhm, no," she said, chuckling, "I'm not lost again."

"Too bad. I would have been glad to help you with directions again," he teased.

She laughed out loud, and he liked the sound of her laughter. "Don't worry, I know my way around this place. Probably better than you do," she teased back.

He simply smiled at her and held out his hand, "I'm Harry Potter, by the way."

She took his hand and shook it firmly, although he did notice how soft and delicate her hand was.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. I'm Hermione Granger," she responded with a smile of her own. He reluctantly released her hand but he moved to stand beside her at the bar. Harry signalled at the bartender and ordered one Butterbeer. He turned towards her with a smile and said, "Just call me Harry, please. Would you like anything?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, thank you. I'm perfectly content with my gilly water at the moment," showing him the drink in her hand on the bar.

When Harry finally had his drink, he took a swig of it before he spoke again. "So, are you here with anyone?" He tried his best to keep the question nonchalant but his heart was beating quite fast as he waited for her answer. He wanted to know if she was here as anyone's date.

She turned to him with a smile but she shook her head.

"No, I'm actually working tonight."

Harry grew a bit wary with her answer. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Working? Are you with the press?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, "Oh Merlin's beard, no! Goodness, those reporters are vultures." She almost spat the word as if it was venom.

"Not a fan of them, I see," he teased but he also felt relieved that she wasn't a reporter. He could tell by her tone that she had great disdain for them.

"Not particularly," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "These days, they would rather write about sensationalism than the truth. Just because sensationalism sells more copies."

Harry nodded."That, I have to agree with. Been on the receiving end of those sensationalized stories one too many times in my lifetime."

Hermione's eyes became soft and tender as she spoke. "It must be hard, being scrutinized by the media all the time."

He stared at her warm, golden-honey eyes and felt himself getting lost in them. It took him a while to realize that she had said something and tried to bring his mind back to their conversation.

"They're not usually that bad. I just hate it when they try to pry into my personal life," he said, and paused to drink his Butterbeer. "You can talk about the past war or my Quidditch statistics all you want, but stay the hell out of my personal life."

Hermione nodded. "I know what you mean. It's none of their business, what you do outside of the pitch. That's yours and yours alone."

He smiled at her, his heart swelling at her understanding. He was about to ask her if she wanted to go outside when a blonde-haired woman approached them who didn't seem to notice him.

"Ugh! I am so ready to kick off my shoes! My feet are killing me!" She exclaimed as she reached the bar and asked the bartender for a drink.

Hermione laughed at her friend. Harry smiled at the melodious sound. He could see that her laughter was open and carefree, and he liked it very much.

"That's why I'm sitting here," she gave him a playful look before turning back to her friend. "I think my feet have died some time ago."

"And we still have a few hours left of this gig," her friend replied before turning towards them and that's when she noticed Harry standing there. Her eyes went so wide, Harry hilariously thought they were going to bug out of their sockets. Then she began to blush as she realized he must have heard their whole exchange, to which Hermione didn't seem bothered by at all.

"Uhm, Hermione," her friend whispered, her eyes still on Harry. "Was Harry Potter standing there beside you the whole time?"

Hermione tried to keep herself from laughing and gave him another impish look before turning back towards her friend. "I believe he was," she relied slyly. The look she gave him caused heat to go through his body, and he tried his best not to shiver visibly.

He decided to introduce himself to Hermione's friend. "Hi, I'm Harry," he held out his right hand." So you work with Hermione?" He asked.

This snapped the woman out of her stupor and shook his hand firmly. "Yes, I do. I'm Margarethe Ackleman. How did you two know each other, then?" Margarethe was looking at them both, one eyebrow raised. Harry and Hermione looked at each other and smiled. Hermione nodded towards him, gesturing to him that he tell the story.

"Hermione got herself lost at the Puddlemere Quidditch Pitch. Instead of going up to the offices, she ended up downstairs by the locker rooms. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I was there, so I helped her out," he answered.

"Really. Well, Hermione seemed to have forgotten to mention that to me." Margarethe turned towards Hermione and gave her a look he couldn't interpret but the other woman seemed to have understood what it meant because there was a growing telltale redness on her cheeks.

"I must have forgotten to tell you about it because we were so busy organizing this party," Hermione explained. She then turned to Harry. "Actually, Margarethe here owns the company who organized this event."

"Really? Well, I must say, you've done an awesome job on this party. Definitely better than last year," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I'm glad you think so! Thank you for that! What my friend failed to mention is that she owns half of the company," she laughed. "Well, I must get back to work. Someone might be in need of a refill of their drinks," Margarethe said.

"I'll come with you," Hermione replied as she stood from the barstool.

"Actually," Harry rushed in, "I was wondering if you wanted to go outside and walk around the grounds with me for a bit."

"Oh," Hermione blushed. "That's sweet of you to ask but we have work—"

Margarethe's eyebrows shot up as she turned to her and grabbed her shoulders as she pushed her towards Harry's direction.

"Everything's fine! I can handle it for now," she said, a clear warning in her eyes. "Go ahead and spend some time with Harry."

"But—"

"Besides, the party isn't going to fall apart while you're gone. It's going to be fine, I promise," Margarethe continued. She had already placed Hermione's hand in Harry's, then started to walk away from them.

"But—"

"I'll see you later!" she waved over her shoulder then promptly vanished among the crowds.

Hermione belatedly realized that Harry was still holding her hand. She looked down at their joined hands then looked up at him shyly. He gave her a devastatingly handsome smile. She felt herself blushing even more. He then took her hand with his other hand and placed it at the crook of his arm, as he led her towards one of the french doors that led to the grounds.

"I kind of feel bad for skiving off work," Hermione said after they walked around the surrounding gardens of the hotel in silence for a few minutes.

"You're not skiving off. You're doing your job in keeping your guests happy and entertained," Harry replied, looking down at her with a mischievous smile.

"I don't think that meant just one guest," she replied, laughing.

"I'm sure it's fine. You do have your boss' permission and it's not like you're abandoning them for the rest of the night. It's just for a few minutes and I promise to bring you back," he assured her with a wink.

"Oh alright," she conceded. She took a deep breath then looked up towards the darkened sky. "It is a nice night, though. The skies are clear so you can see a lot of stars."

Harry imitated her and looked up as well. It was a nice night; it wasn't too chilly nor was it too hot. The temperature was just right for a night stroll with a beautiful woman.

"It is," he said. "So, tell me about you."

Hermione chuckled. "There's nothing much to tell, really."

"Oh, I don't think so. I can tell there's a compelling story in those caramel eyes of yours," he said.

She blushed at his description of her eyes and she looked at him shyly. "Oh, not really. Unless you want to ruin your night."

"Very well, not tonight then. But you're going to have to tell me your life story one of these days."

She laughed. "I'm telling you, my life is not that interesting."

"I seriously doubt that. Okay, so I'll just ask you a bunch of questions. Bit like 20 questions," Harry couldn't explain it but he felt the need to know more about her. He was enjoying his time with Hermione, even when they were just walking in silence. He didn't feel like he needed to fill the silence with small talk and he knew she felt the same. It was a new and refreshing feeling.

"Are you sure you're a quidditch player and not a reporter?" She teased him, a playful smile on her dark red lips.

He laughed. "Maybe I'm working as a part-time reporter, getting the scoop on the behind-the-scenes of parties like this."

Hermione also laughed. "Oh you'd be terribly bored with the details in organizing events like this."

"I honestly find it quite interesting. Bringing different components together then get everything working in perfect symphony required real work. I'm sure it's a hell of an accomplishment to pull off an event as big as this and make it a success. I know it's not as easy as it looks," he said thoughtfully.

Hermione was astonished by his thoughtfulness. Yes, event organizing wasn't easy and working on one required tedious attention and long hours but seeing it all come together, like the party that night, was well worth it. She gave him a grateful smile. "You nailed that on the head. It's not easy, let me tell you. But seeing people enjoy the work we've done makes everything worth our while. Of course, we're getting paid for it so it's not that bad."

Harry laughed at her last statement then asked. "So how did you end up working with Margarethe and her company?"

"Margarethe and I have been best friends since we were children when we started at Beauxbatons. Imagine my surprise when this beautiful eleven-year-old walked up to me and just out of the blue told me, 'Starting today, we are going to be best friends,'" she reminisced fondly, "After finishing school, she went on to work for one of the well-known robemakers in Paris while I worked a desk job at the French Ministry. Through her work, she was able to attend events and got to talk to suppliers and event organizers. That's when she realized she wanted to do that more than designing and sewing robes. About two years ago, she said she wanted to move here and start her business. I didn't even hesitate. I packed everything I owned and moved here with her. And now we're here."

"See? That wasn't boring at all! It was quite brave of you and Margarethe to just pack up and leave your established lives in France to start over in a foreign land," Harry said, his awe clear in his voice as he looked at her.

Hermione shrugged. "Oh it wasn't easy, but we had each other so it wasn't all bad."

"So," he cleared his voice, "no Mr. Granger to help with the move?"

She gave him a casual look but he could see a blush on her lovely cheeks.

"Oh dear, no," she shook her head. "There's no Mr. Granger ever. Just me, Margarethe and—" she abruptly stopped.

He caught her hesitance, "And?"

Hermione gave him a tight smile and shook her head. He wondered, who could she had been talking about if she wasn't married? He decided he wouldn't push her tonight, but he would definitely find out later.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything about myself?" He asked her teasingly.

She laughed. "Oh, I've read a lot about you."

"I thought you didn't trust the sensationalism the journalists wrote about me?" He replied, feigning disappointment.

"I said I read a lot about you, doesn't mean I believed all of it," she retorted.

"But you believed some?" He inquired.

"Not really. Speak as you find, I always believe. I'm not much for gossip and rumours. I'm a creature of fact and research, so I basically ignore anything that's just hearsay or without proof," she answered.

"Speak as you find," he repeated, rolling the phrase in his mind. "I like that a lot."

She beamed at him and her smile caused his stomach to do somersaults. He had never felt this way about any woman he'd just met or even dated before. He decided to put that aside from his mind for the moment.

Conversation flowed freely between the two as they continued their walk. He then noticed that they had circled the gardens and were nearing the doors they exited earlier. It felt that their time together had been too short. They stopped walking when a messenger spell approached them as he was about to speak.

"Hermione dear, can you check the west food station? There's a guest there who's being unreasonable about the food not being vegan," Margarethe's voice rang out of the floating spell before it dissipated. They could hear the disdain in her voice which made Harry snicker.

Hermione turned to him, her eyes apologetic and shy. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. I guess I have to go in now. Thank you for inviting me to walk around the gardens." Harry caught her wrist as she began walking towards the door, making her turn back to him with a questioning look.

"I would like to see you again," he said, his voice calm and steady, never betraying the nerves he was feeling at the act of asking her on a date. "Would you like to have dinner with me this week?"

Her face adopted a surprised look before it turned sad. She took a deep breath and spoke, "I had a lovely time with you tonight, Harry. But I'm going to have to decline."

It was Harry's turn to be surprised. "But why? You just said you enjoyed our time together."

"I did, but the only thing I can say right now is that the timing is off. You're starting your quidditch season soon and I'm elbows deep in my work and home life," she replied, not meeting his eyes. Hermione shook her head and looked up at him."I really must go. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party." She gave him a smile then hurriedly turned towards the doors.

"But—"

She was gone by the time he realized he'd stood rooted to the same spot for a couple of minutes. It wasn't his ego speaking but that was the first time someone said no to him when he asked them out. After the surprise had worn off, a huge smile began to grow on his face. If Hermione Granger thought that her rejection had put him off, well, she had another thing going. It only made him want her more. And Harry Potter was nothing but determined.