A/N: So, I normally don't even bother with challenges like this, since it's all I can do to finish the stories I've thought up on my own, but something about this particular challenge intrigued me—which probably has everything to do with the fact that it said "kiss in the rain" and "Jane Austen." Two of my favorite things! So I'm going to attempt it, see what happens, and with a little bit of luck—and a LOT of feedback!—I might actually finish it! Fingers crossed!

So, As it says in the summary, this story is AU. Voldemort does not exist. Hermione and Harry have never met. Sirius is alive and well. Ron and Harry haven't met, either. Draco, isn't an insufferable prat (anymore). Ron is shy (!). Harry is actually older than Hermione. And Ginny is the same age as both Draco and Hermione.

Disclaimer: I don't have anything clever to say. I own nothing.


It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman of a certain age and means must be in want of a husband, just as a single man of similar age and equal or greater means must be in want of a wife.

Translation, everybody knows that every person, age twenty-one and above, with at least some amount of money, is just dying to get married.

Every person, that is, except Hermione Granger.

At just barely twenty-one, she was perfectly happy being single, and had no plans to change that. Not yet, at least. She was the best fact-checker at the Daily Prophet, with a promise to become a reporter if she played her cards right, and had a quiet, but pleasant, social life. She only had a few close friends, which was okay with her.

The closest of these, Draco Malfoy, was a surprise to everyone—including the two of them. They'd been bitter rivals for most of their time at Hogwarts, competing for the top grades (Hermione won), and the higher level of wit (Hermione won again). And when they were chosen as Head Boy and Girl, every student and staff member was afraid their beloved school would implode. However, within a few weeks, the two were laughing in their "wit-offs," and helping each other with homework and classes they struggled with. In the end, Hermione achieved the highest marks (Draco still struggled with Transfiguration), and they were best friends.

Ginny Weasley was the sister Hermione never had. From their first year at Hogwarts, they were incredibly close. As they grew older, though, they discovered differences in personality that clashed. Not enough to destroy their bond, but to stretch it. Ginny was extremely girly, with an addiction to shopping and boys. Hermione's love for books and sarcasm never faded. They had less to talk about, but still enjoyed one another's company.

Ron, Ginny's older brother, was her polar opposite. He was shy, and had never had a girlfriend, but he was incredibly sweet, and a good listener. Hermione didn't know a lot about him, since he didn't say much, but he wasn't rude, so she liked him fine.

The three friends often attended Ministry parties together, and would spend most of the night standing in a clump talking, rather than dancing. This changed, however, on the night of Ginny's twenty-first birthday. It coincided with the last night of the summer holidays, and the Ministry threw a sort of ball on this occasion every year. It was gaudy and pretentious, but as an upstanding member of the prominent Malfoy family, Draco was obligated to go, and his friends were always there to help him through the tediousness.

Within minutes, however, it became clear that this party would not be the same. It took Ginny all of two minutes to start coping out the beaus, and dancing with half the male population between the ages of eighteen and thirty-two.

"Wow," Hermione muttered as the redhead flounced away. "That didn't take long."

Draco chuckled softly. "She's a free spirit. She cannot be contained."

"Clearly." She turned to smile. "Guess it'll just be you and me tonight."

"Guess so," Draco grinned.

She sighed dramatically. "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"

With a smirk, Draco suggested, "We could set fire to the Minister's robes."

"Or his dog."

"Or his dog's robes."

"Or both!"

"Suppose we douse the lights, shine one on the far wall, and perform a dirty hand-puppet show for everyone."

"They'd be bowing at our feet!"

"Kissing the ground we walk on!"

Hermione laughed as their witty banter came to a close. It was a familiar pattern, and she knew Draco was grateful for it. These parties weren't really his thing.

"Or we could dance," he said suddenly.

She looked at him in surprise. "But you hate dancing!"

He shrugged. "Yes, but maybe that's only because the only people I've ever danced with are my mother, the Minister's wife, and that horrid old hag from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Never have I danced with a lovely young woman, of whom I have already formed a good opinion."

"Well, when you put it that way," she teased, but accepted his hand, and they went onto the dance floor. Draco twirled and spun her, causing them both to laugh. They knew they were causing quite a stir, but neither managed to care.

In the middle of one of Draco's spins, Hermione caught sight of two gentleman who had just arrived. The first was a bit older, probably in his forties or early fifties. His hair was long and curly, hanging around a bearded face. His eyes, though shadowed by that hair, seemed kind and smiling. It was the second man, though, that really captured her attention. He was tall. Very tall, and unnervingly handsome, with thick, somewhat unkempt black hair, a pair of stately, rectangular glasses, and a deep scowl. Hermione had been to four of these Ministry balls—one a year since she and Draco had finished Hogwarts—but she was certain she had never seen this man in her life, which made her curious.

"Who's that?" she asked Draco, gesturing with her head. "That man over there?"

"That's Harry Potter," he told her, "son of noted ex-Aurors James and Lily Potter. I'm told they were the best Aurors the Ministry has seen in the last fifty years, but they were killed during a mission gone wrong a few years ago."

She frowned. "Did he go to Hogwarts?"

"No, he went to Durmstrang, I believe. I'm not entirely sure why he's here," he mused quietly. "From what I've heard, he's been invited to countless events, but he's turned them all down. Wonder why he chose this one."

"And who's the man with him?"

"His godfather, Sirius Black. He had some trouble with the law back in his day, but he's since been found innocent and was given a full pardon."

"What was his supposed crime?"

"Aiding a dark wizard. Don't remember the name, but he spent a year in Azkaban for it. Endured it remarkably well, I must say. Most people go mad within months."

"Impressive," Hermione noted.

Draco turned to her. "Why so curious?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

She shrugged. "I've never seen either of them before."

"Hmm," he narrowed his eyes, but said nothing else.

"Draco, my boy!" a man said suddenly as he approached them. Hermione recognized him; Horace Slughorn, their Potions teacher from the last two years of school. Draco looked at her, his eyes silently pleading for her to save him. But she knew, and she was sure he knew, that it was a lost cause. Slughorn had always liked Draco, and he'd be damned if he didn't get a long, pointless conversation with him.

"I think I'll go see where Ginny's gone off to," Hermione announced, smirking at the distraught expression on Draco's face.

She left the dance floor, strolling around the perimeter. It didn't take long to find Ginny, what with her striking red hair and bouncy personality. She was currently in the midst of a large group of men, all facing her and listening with rapt attention as she told what Hermione guessed was one of her less-than-funny goblin jokes. She had no end of them. Hermione shook her head and continued walking, still watching her red-haired best friend. Unknowingly, she came to the place where the elusive Mr. Potter and his godfather stood. As she approached, and saw them, she stopped in her tracks, hurrying to hide herself. Her curiosity might be her biggest downfall, but it was too great a temptation to ignore. What could these men have to say?

"...standing around looking like an utter fool," she caught the end of Sirius Black's sentence. His voice was a bit gruff and coarse, but there was something kind about it, something that hinted at an amiable nature, and there was an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. She liked him already.

"You're wasting your breath," the younger man said in a deep, resonant bass. "You know I hate dancing. I'm not going to lead any of these silly, pathological flirts on to believe that I have even the remotest interest in them, when I definitely do not."

Well, Hermione thought dryly, sounds like someone's shoved a broomstick where it doesn't belong.

Sirius laughed heartily. "Just you wait, my boy," he said. "One of these days, you're actually find someone you like at one of these parties, and she's not going to give you the time of day. Then you'll wish you'd been a bit kinder."

"I highly doubt it, but keep telling yourself that, if it gives you comfort."

Stuck-up arse, Hermione insulted him mentally, though she couldn't help but laugh at his insolence. She didn't catch the last thing Sirius said before he strolled away, and out of her line of sight. Amazed by Harry Potter's arrogance, she moved to walk away. In the process, she collided with someone, nearly sending them both to the floor, but the person caught her with lightning-fast reflexes, pulling her back into a standing position. She looked upward, prepared to thank the person, but stopped when she saw who it was.

Harry Potter. The very person she had just inwardly insulted while laughing at the conversation she'd just eavesdropped.

And he was staring at her, with the second expression she'd seen on his face: a mix of surprise, confusion, and anger. She felt a momentary flare of indignation—what, was he furious with her for deigning to invade his personal space and contaminate him with her "girl cooties" or something? But she squashed those feelings down, and remembered propriety.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"You should be more careful," he scolded, rather than accepting her thanks. "People might think you're attempting to initiate some sort of contact."

Seriously? Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she refrained. Instead, she gave a pleasant smile. "Yes, I really should be more careful. I should be careful where I walk and who I run into. Someone might blatantly insult me and accuse me of things he knows nothing about."

His expression instantly became enraged. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, there's no need to beg," she smirked. "I can't hold anything against you; I don't know you. But I must beg your pardon for appearing like a silly, pathological flirt," she repeated his words. His face got redder and redder, and she just laughed. "Enjoy the party," she waved, and walked away.

Still giggling to herself, she found Draco, still talking to Slughorn. She looped her arm through his, and smiled at her ex-professor. "Pardon me, sir, but I must steal Draco away for a moment. I have something to discuss with him."

"Oh, Miss Granger!" the older man smiled—though not as widely as Draco. "Yes, of course! Silly me, I've practically been holding him hostage the whole evening!"

Hermione could see Draco struggling to hold back whatever retort was on the tip of his tongue; smiling graciously, she said goodbye to Slughorn, and the two of them strolled away. "You saved me!" he whispered.

"You looked a little cornered," she grinned. "Plus, I really do want to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?"

Still smiling, she glanced toward the place where she'd left Harry Potter, to find he was still standing there. Staring at her. Still looking furious.

Draco noticed. "What did you do to him?"

Hermione smirked. "It's actually a funny story..."


A/N: I'm actually really excited about this story now! :D I can already tell it's going to be SO much fun to write! Tell me what you think!