Disclaimer... Do i honestly have to do this every chapter.. Do you think if i owned harry potter ramione would have happened or id be sitting here at 1 am writing fanfiction.. Come on now.. But anyway everything belongs to the beautiful and talented J.

At age twenty-six, two months and five days, Helena George was on her way to her very first date—a drink with a man named Alexander at the Leakey Cauldron in Diagon Alley. This wasn't her first date because she hadn't had the opportunity before, but because, as of a week ago, she didn't exist.

Helena George was the newly assumed dating identity of Hermione Granger, whose last name branded her as a member of the Wizarding World's war heroines, brightest which of the age and best friend of Harry Potter. She'd discovered the hard way that her mother's constant warning was right on the…wait for it…money: "Men will either not want you because of your name and accomplishments, or want you only because of it."

Her boyfriend Ron hadn't wanted her, becoming increasingly uneasy dealing with any family matters and threatened by her independence. Her boyfriend Terry had wanted her, or so she thought, until she found out he only wanted what she could pay for, charming his way into her affection at the same time he was charming his way into another woman's pants. And those were just the last two.

Hermione wasn't willing to chuck all she had done for the sake of finding but she was willing to get rid of the name, temporarily. Her conscience pricked her for the irony of looking for honest love with a lie, but she wasn't going to take on another personality or misrepresent herself in any other way. And if she found a wonderful man she trusted enough to reveal her secret to and he couldn't come up with enough empathy to understand her reasons, then he wasn't that wonderful after all.

The restaurant sat on a busy muggle street in the middle of London, surrounded by people just to busy or uncaring anout what was really going on. Hermione apparated to the nearby alley to gather her with to herself. She took a long breath and blew it out slowly, nervous but confident she wouldn't show it. If the war had taught her anything, it was how to maintain grace under pressure..

Steeping out onto the sidewalk, and into the chilly air. A form-fitting blue wool dress adjusted, then one matching blue ballerina flat in front of another, Hermione made her way to the front door.

She'd found Alexander through , a company run by the attractive and indomitable Lavender Brown, who personally interviewed and provided guidance to each client joining the site. Hermione had asked to meet quiet, financially and emotionally stable men on the theory that they'd be less likely to be attracted to the spotlight—and less likely to see her as a ticket to whatever they wanted from life since they'd be able to provide it for themselves. Everything except her, of course.

Alexander worked in the Department of Magical Transportation, which didn't exactly light fires of curiosity inside Hermione, but then her career as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcemnt, might seem dull to him, as well.

Inside, the restaurant was warm and bustling, booths filled with families and couples along with many atbthe bar itself. Hermione stood just inside the entrance, smiling self-consciously, not seeing anyone who looked like Alexander. On he'd seemed decently attractive—light brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, kind of serious. But his letters had been pleasant, and she'd had a nice floo conversation with him when they'd arranged to meet.

As she scanned the room, her attention was caught by the back of one of the bartenders, his broad shoulders working as he poured, mixed and shook, selecting bottles with unerring aim, tossing them briefly in the air to change his grip. She absently wondered if Alexander was at one of the tables along the wall, thinking if he didn't show, she'd be perfectly happy standing there gaping at the bartender all evening.

Drinks in hand, he turned around, and with a graceful flourish, placed them in front of a couple seated at the bar. Mmm, very handsome as well as sexy.

He looked up. Breath rushed into Hermione's body in a silly gasp.

Oh.

My.

Goodness.

It was Draco Malfoy.

He met her eyes with the same unerring aim he'd used to grab the bottles, as if he'd been aware of her watching him all this time and had chosen this moment to pounce with his gaze. His eyes were silvery gray, their unusual color making them leap out of his face. The color, and also the life and warmth and intelligence they held. And because he was gorgeous. And amazingly hot. And had she mentioned gorgeous?

"Helena?" A gentle touch on her shoulder.

Gah! She realized suddenly that her pseudonym had been called more than once behind her, but because the name was only distantly familiar—and the bartender was so yummy—she hadn't responded immediately.

Wrenching her eyes away from the bartender's gray, black-lashed magnets, she turned to find poor Alexander looking anxious. "Alexander! Hello."

"Oh." His face relaxed into relief. "I thought it was you, but then you didn't answer and I started thinking I'd made a mistake."

She laughed inanely. "Sorry. I was…distracted."

To put it mildly. Her heart still hadn't slowed and she had to use physical force to keep from pivoting back for another eyeful.

"That's okay." Alexander motioned to an empty table by the window behind the hostess station. "I was here early so I got us a place to sit."

"Great, thank you." She headed for the table, but gave into the urge for one last peek, finding him polishing a glass with a white towel. Watching her.

Another jolt of electricity to her stomach. She was not going to look his way again. She remebered his reputation from school, he was apleyer amd probably kept tabs on every women that came in. A nice guy like Alexander deserved her full attention for the rest of their date.

Except that the rest of their date seemed to go on and on and on. Alexander was shy and sweet, which meant the bulk of the conversational initiative landed on Hermione, and in spite of her vow to concentrate on getting to know him, either he was extremely reserved or there wasn't much to get to know.

Finally, when she couldn't stand one more minute of searching for another topic he could conceivably contribute more than a few words to, she excused herself to the ladies' room. Lavender had said Alexander might need drawing out, but Hermione didn't expect to need veritaserum.

On her way to the bathroom, she found herself, oh heaven, in front of the bar again. She scanned the room for signs to the restroom and came up empty, probably because she much preferred muggle bars and really hadnt been to the Leakey Cauldron since her school days.

So. Um. Maybe she'd have to ask someone for help.

Someone who worked there.

Like maybe…

She turned, and nearly jumped out of her skin when her eyes collided with his extraordinary silver ones. He'd been watching her again. Sexy mouth curving into a smile, he held up his hand, index finger pointing.

Hermione's gaze followed the line of his finger to a sign: Ladies.

She mouthed thank you and fled, only able to stand so much titillation—all of it experienced without even speaking to him. Without touching him, God forbid. If she ever got within a few feet, she'd probably explode into ash.

Too bad she wouldn't get to discover what that was like.

On the way back from the bathroom, she had to pass him again. Tough, tough job. This time he was smiling at another female customer, which was a good thing because it reminded her that even though that smile was charming as hell, he probably used it on every woman in the room. One of those guys whose broadcasted attention had more to do with "Aren't I attractive?" than "I think you are."

Even so, just before she passed him, she gave a good solid sigh of regret. She was going back to Alexander to excuse herself from the date, which meant she wouldn't be able to gaze or glance or gawk at this astonishingly attractive man anymore.

Pity.

Just before she lost him from sight, as if he had a frequency tuned into her, his head lifted; his gray eyes zapped her again, just as powerfully as the first time. And the second. And third… He moved to a spot farther down the bar where a chair had been shoved to one side and pointed straight at her.

Hermione gulped. Gestured to her chest, in the center of which her heart had begun to hammer. "Me?"

He nodded, flipped over his palm and beckoned, mouthing words she couldn't hear but could somehow understand as plainly as if he'd said them right into her ear.

Yes. You. Come here.

A/N so brand new idea for a story that just wouldnt leave me alone until it became words on a paper. When i have to go to school tomorrow. And its 1am.. Oh well let me know what you think continue or not delete this and pretend like it never happened doesnt matter just tell me something.