Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

A/N: So... I'm sorry I'm not continuing my previous works. I'm kind of stuck doing all kind of college sh*t. I just needed a break now, and because going back to my other stories requires time to review the story and remembering my old plans on the plot, etc. I decided to just make a new one.

To all the Percabeth shippers, I give you a forewarning. This piece ships Percy Jackson/Hermione Granger. I mean I ship Percabeth too, I ship all kinds, actually, but this one I wanted to make a crossover ship.

If you want to suggest anything, please leave comment through a message or a review.

Thanks, and enjoy!

The pub was mildly crowded. It was not without noise, but the buzz from the conversations was pleasant enough to be ignored. Hermione Granger sat there, sipping on her ale, and stared at nothing. It was difficult to think anything after what she had to go through today. Another relationship had gone to rubbish. She had to end it for the third time for the same reason. She had no time for a luxurious, time-consuming relationship at the moment. She was busy enough pursuing her career. It was a cruel cycle of a wishful thinking, a realization of a mistake, a breakup, a determination to never repeat it again, and then another delusion that perhaps she had finally found true love.

Breaking up was emotionally exhausting each time, and she regretted ever actually believing in the existence of love. The first time she believed it, she was with Ron. What she was mistaken about was that the affection she had for Ron was not that of a lover but of a family. When she had realized that and when Ron had realized it as well, the two had decided to return to the friend-family relationship they had before. It was the most peaceful ending of one relationship and a great rebirth of another. It was Hermione's grave mistake to think that all break up's were going to be so peaceful.

The second time she thought she was in love but not enough to sacrifice her work hours, when she tried to confess the truth, about her desire to end it, her wizarding boyfriend had yelled and thrown hexes at her (but missed because of an angry, shaky aim). Ron and Harry, who played the role of her brothers, had to appear and restrain the wizard. When they managed to do so, he broke down in tears.

The third time, which was only hours ago, Hermione tried to be gentle and not so straightforward, but the wizard she met was a very smart man. He was practical, and he, very quickly understanding the essential message of "I don't have time for this" from Hermione's lengthy speech, nodded and replied, "likewise." It was a frighteningly simple process, and Hermione had felt a kind of void as she watched the wizard turn around and walk away from her without one glance back at her.

It seemed futile. The meaning of relationship, or love, that is. And yet, she knew already that she would illogically "fall in love" again, given the opportunity to do so. So she sulkily sipped her mug of ale in this strange pub, to which she walked in spontaneously on her way home, and mourned for the inevitable demise of her next relationship.

Percy Jackson roamed around London until his legs were too tired to walk anymore. He paused in front of Dream Teller's Pub. He only had few pounds jingling in his pocket.

I could probably get a drink of something.

He walked into the pub and, relieved to find it not so packed, approached the bartender. It was his first time to order at the bar, but he pulled out the coins in his pocket and asked, trying his best not to fidget.

"A pint of Corona please?"

Said the man who just walked into the bar area. Hermione looked up, intrigued by his distinctly American accent. It was not her first time witnessing an American, but the sort of timidness in the voice, which was uncharacteristic of the usually boisterous manner she had seen from other Americans, made her curious.

The man, who seemed to be an ordinary muggle (as soon as she deduced that much, Hermione gave herself a mental smack because, of course he was, she was at a muggle pub!), had really dark hair, almost black, or maybe it was actually black, it was too dark inside the pub to tell, and the average tanned skin of an American she noticed before. No British, especially no Londoner, could acquire such a healthy tan under the alltime clouded sky. His face was charming enough, with a sharp chin and all. He was wearing a soft looking, ivory turtleneck sweater and a dark pair of jeans with vertical stripes. His shoes were black converse with very worn out shoelaces. In his hand, he held a long navy coat, and his other hand lied on the bar table, the fingers tapping in an unfamiliar rhythm.

"Um… do you need something?"

Percy felt the woman next to her looking at him. Exactly how or why he did not know, only assuming that it was at least partly because of his accent. Nonetheless, he did not like to be stared at. He was almost 100% certain that this woman did not need anything from him, but nonetheless he asked so, so that he can break her stare.

The woman, startled by his sudden interruption, looked up. She had curly brown hair, and warm brown colored eyes that glistened under the amber lights in the pub. She reminded Percy of his mother, which was oddly disturbing. She was wearing a kind of hooded robe, which was weird to him but must have been the newest fashion trend of London or something as far as he could guess, and underneath it, she wore a traditional match of a sweater, a shirt, and a tie. The sweater was crimson, the shirt white, and the tie was dark rusty brown.

The woman's surprise faded away slowly, and her cheeks seemed to gradually turn dark with red tinges. She was embarrassed, Percy realized.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare so much."

Hermione apologized immediately. She must have drunk more ale than she thought to have so rudely stare at the stranger for so long. She only meant to observe in a subtle manner, but apparently it was not so subtle at all. The man gave an amused chuckle as he sat down next to her. The bartender handed him his drink, a pint of Corona, and after thanking the bartender and handing him the money, the man turned back to her and smiled.

"It's fine. I guess my accent kind of stands out over here."

"Well, it did catch my attention, but no, I just think I'm a bit drunk, honestly. I'm really sorry."

Hermione shook her head and pointedly pushed her mug away a bit. The man laughed, not fully happily but somewhat tiredly, like a tortured man finding a temporary relief. He offered his hand to her, for a shake.

"I'm Percy."

Percy's former annoyance was gone entirely. He understood that the small woman in front of him did not mean to judge him at all by staring like that previously. He usually offered handshake to make friends and sometime to stop another person from continuously apologizing. It was a little bit of both this time; he wanted to appear friendly and console the flustered woman.

She warily looked at his outstretched hand and then looked up at his face. He tried to keep the smile look natural and welcoming, afraid to scare her away. To his relief, she took his hand with a small smile of her own.

"I'm Hermione."

When she looked up at the man, now known as Percy, Hermione could truly see his eyes. They were odd. They were blue one moment then green at another moment. At certain point, they were a mix of green and blue, like the sea. They were dark too, like the sea, the ocean, was brewing a storm, or perhaps it only seemed so because the pub was still dark inside.

Still, they were compelling.

After the handshake, or more like a hand "grab," Percy pointed his thumb to the tabled seats.

"Why don't we move over there? If it's alright with you, we can talk while we drink?"

Her brain, having survived the alcohol's pull, shouted that she should not. She should not make a pleasant company with this charming American. She should not put herself in such a tempting situation when she just ran away from one relationship, only hours ago. But then another side of her mind whispered, why not? Why should she not be consoled by the company of this man? Why should she not enjoy her life as it is? Why should she care if the situations was tempting or not, when the man would probably go back to America soon anyways? This could be what everyone calls a "one-night-stand" and not a start of a relationship. And who knows? This man may only genuinely want someone to just talk to while having a drink. How else would she find out what tonight will become except she accept this invitation?

After asking that last rhetorical question, Hermione nodded.

"Sure, why not?"

Percy smiled at her again. This man smiled awfully lot, not that it bothered her. He guided her to the table he previously pointed at. Hermione felt his hand hovering above the small of her back, and she somehow appreciated the lack of touch.

After the two sat down, the witch and the demigod talked. They talked about things, argued about other things playfully, and ranted about things together. They interacted in such way for hours until there was no other customer inside the pub, until the pub closed at 2 am, until the bartender approached them silently and politely alerted them of the closing. They walked out of the pub together, still talking about things as they walked down the street in step with each other.