Twenty-Three-year-old Harry Potter finished buttoning the top of his black, long sleeved shirt, before giving his outfit a once over and ran a hand through his unruly hair; coming to the conclusion he'd never be able to tame it. He splashed cologne on the nape of his neck before exiting out of his bathroom and walked into the living room where he patiently awaited the arrival of his best mates, Ron and Draco.

Tonight was going to be an experience for the three of them, seeing as Harry had convinced Ron and Draco to check out a muggle pub with him this evening, have a guys night out. Normally men his age would be hitting the hottest clubs, but to him those weren't exactly the best place to meet women, well women that would remember who he was the next day.

At first Ron and Draco were a bit hesitant on joining their friend, neither one had ever had experience interacting in the muggle world but Harry had talked them into it, telling his friends he'd cover everything that evening so they didn't have to worry about converting their knuts, galleons, and sickles into pounds.

At half past seven that evening, Harry and his mates were sitting around a round table, each knocking back at what was their third shot of Jack Daniels.

"Blimey, this stuff ain't half bad." Ron said as he placed the small, crystal glass on the table.

"Speak for yourself, Mate. It tastes like Mooncalf Dung." Draco replied, a look of disgust spread across his face. Harry couldn't help but laugh at his friend's expression. He was about to single the waitress to bring over shots of Fireball when a young woman with curly, brunette hair caught his eye from the bar. She was smiling, talking merrily with one of her friends. As she went to flip her shoulder length hair over her shoulder, she caught Harry staring at her, a blush creeping on her cheeks. He nodded over in her direction, giving her a slight wave.

"Ah, She's pretty, mate." Ron told him, catching a gaze at the young woman his friend was ogling.

"Get your arse up and go talk to her." Draco told him , nodding his head towards the young woman.

"What? No- I can't."

"Alright, then I guess you won't mind if I go lay the Malfoy charm on her then, eh?" Draco smirked, acting as if he was about to get up from the chair. Harry glared at him and placed his hands on the table. "Fine, I'll go."

"Thata boy, Harry."

"Give her a taste of the Chosen One." Harry rolled his eyes, trying his hardest not to laugh at his friends' antic as he walked in the brunette's direction. Once Harry was mere inches away from her, he stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "Hey, I'm Harry." The young woman's friend excused herself from the bar, giving her a thumbs up as she gave the two some space. A kind smile spread across her face as she placed her small, petite hand in Harry's.

"Hey, yourself." She told him, her voice cheery and bright. "I'm Hermione."

"Hermione." Harry repeated, the sound of her name ringing in his ears. "That's a lovely name." Hermione's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink at his compliment.

"This might sound rather stupid, seeing as we literally just met but would you care to dance with me?" Hermione took a sip of her Strawberry Daiquiri, and nodded her head. "Sure, why not." She scooted off the barstool, her hand finding Harry's once more as he picked a song from the jukebox.

"Van the Man, huh?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised. Harry smiled sheepishly and let them out onto the dance floor. Within minutes, They began dancing with one another, their bodies matching the same rhythm. It wasn't long until Hermione's arms were wrapped around Harry's neck, their bodies now closer together.

As Harry and Hermione danced, they talked amongst one another. They both went to boarding schools (although neither one admitted they were magical boarding schools just yet), were only children, excelled in their studies. Harry couldn't stop thinking how perfect she was, how she could possibly be the person that was handmade for him. After a few dances, Harry led her to the table where his friends were sitting, chatting nonchalantly with Hermione's friend Simone who had taken a keen liking to Draco.

Hours later, Harry had invited Hermione back to his flat where they sat around and continued to talk. Hermione leaned on Harry's couch with her arm propped up, supporting her head as she intently listened to him talk about his relatives and how unkind they had been to him as a child. Her heart ached for him, silently weeping for him as a young child. As if a magnet was pulling them together, Hermione scooted closer towards him and placed a tender hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Harry. No one should have ever had to endure the crap you did." Her kind words warmed his heart.

"It's alright, it was a long time ago and I haven't spoken to them since the day I moved out on my own." He replied, caressing the side of her face. Their eyes locked onto one another, their faces inching closer together until their lips brushed one another, a jolt coursing through their bodies…

The following morning Harry had woken up to empty bedsheets, the smell of her vanilla perfume lingering on his pillows. His eyes caught hold of a note she had left for him, explaining she had to be at work and she didn't want to bother waking him from his slumber. His heart did a backflip when he realized she had written her number at the bottom of the note.

Even though they had only spent a night together talking, his heart was falling for Hermione Granger.