Harry appeared at one of the designated apparition points in Pentagon Alley. The lane was opened about three years ago when the community had been steadily growing and several new businesses had begun opening. The number of them could not be accommodated along Diagon Alley anymore so the British Ministry of Magic had opted to open a new alley. It was a success and the new businesses had helped in bolstering the magical community's economy in recent years. The assortment of booming businesses owned by purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns integrated well together, and he was glad to see that the blood purity bigotry was a thing of the past. He didn't fight the war against Voldemort just for the discrimination and fanaticism of those beliefs to survive to this day. Of course, there were still those who tried to propagate the sanctity of purebloods but they were few and not a lot of people bought into the propaganda anymore.

He strolled down the lively lane, passing by shop after shop, some he had visited before and some he made a mental note to check out some other time. He checked the card in his hand again as he read the signs on the storefronts. Some were animated and moving, some even sang or talked to the patrons strolling along the busy street. He made an abrupt stop as he felt a certain pull that came from the bookshop on his right. He turned to look at the window of the store with the name The Bookend printed across the glass. People were moving back and forth beyond the glass, books tucked under their arms or heads bowed as they browsed books from rows and rows of shelves. He didn't know why but he felt a certain calmness and comfort from the store. He took a step forward, intending to check out the bookshop when a voice called out from his left.

"Harry?"

He turned his head towards the vaguely familiar voice and saw Margarethe Ackleman, Hermione's friend and co-owner of The Magic Touch, standing at the door beside the bookshop. He glanced briefly above her to confirm that this was the office of her business. He changed directions and walked towards Margarethe instead of the bookshop. With a smile, he greeted the blonde woman.

"Hello, Margarethe. How are you today? Already recovered from the craziness from last night?" He teased.

"Still a little knackered but I'm used to it. It's all part of the job. Why were you just standing over there?"

He turned his head to where he was standing previously, looked at the bookshop for a few seconds then turned back to Margarethe.

"I was just thinking," he answered evasively. He still wasn't sure what it was that happened back there. He continued, hoping to distract her. "Actually, I was looking for your office!"

"Really? Oh, where are my manners? We're just standing here by the door. Come in, please!" Margarethe opened the door then held it so he can follow her in, as well.

The first thing Harry noticed about the office was that it felt very cozy. There were light-coloured wood panel floors and on the left side of the room was a long, rectangular table that could fit at least eight people. There were several people seated around and talking. Must be clients with the staff, he thought. Behind them were several shelves filled with books, several plants, and other knick-knacks. Next to it was a high, wooden table nestled against the wall with five high chairs. There was a bar at the end of the room, with a magical icebox and contraptions he recognized that were used to make coffee and other drinks. Two shelves lined the wall behind the bar with one layer filled with mugs and glasses. The one above it contained liquor of different kinds. This made him smile. On the right side of the room was a sitting area with comfortable, mismatched couches and armchairs; a coffee table in the middle with magazines; more plants; and books on top. Beyond that was a long counter table that looked like the receptionist's area, and it seemed it was used as a barrier to close off the back part of the room. There was a door on the right wall behind the desk and a set of stairs that led upstairs, which he assumed led to their main office, beside the door. The walls were white-painted bricks with interspersed framed quotes and artworks. Live plants were also hung and scattered around the room, giving it a refreshing and relaxing feel.

After his quick assessment of the place, he smiled at Margarethe and said, "I like your office."

She smiled as well, a look of undisguised pride and joy in her eyes as she looked around the office. "Thanks, Hermione and I designed it. We wanted a place where people would feel welcome and be comfortable while we talk about events organizing and other businesses."

At the mention of Hermione, he then remembered why he was there in the first place.

"Speaking of—" he began.

Margarethe sighed, cutting him off, "And here I thought you're here to have a party planned." She chuckled and gave him an amused and teasing look. "So, you're here for Hermione, yes?"

Harry blushed and he cursed himself for acting like a schoolboy getting caught having a crush on a girl. He wove his fingers through his hair, tried to shrug nonchalantly then gave her a self-deprecating smile.

"She left abruptly after she got your messenger spell while we were outside and I kinda got the sense she was avoiding me after that," he said.

"Why would she avoid you? Did you do something to offend her?" He detected the barely hidden threat in her tone which made him both nervous and wary but also liking the woman because he could see the protectiveness and concern she had for her friend.

"I don't think I did anything to offend her, actually," he said, putting his hands up in a defensive pose. "Before she left, I asked her if she would have dinner with me. She, uh, she said no," he explained.

He saw understanding dawn on Margarethe's face then an expression of annoyance replaced it. He wasn't sure if the woman was annoyed at him for asking her friend out on a date with him but she quickly quashed his growing worry when she spoke.

"Oh, that blasted woman! I ought to shake some sense into her," she said under her breath. It seemed she was talking more to herself than to Harry. She looked up and gave him a smile. "Why don't you wait here and I'll look for her so you can talk to her?"

Harry nodded in response. "Look for her where? She's not here?"

"Oh, she's at the bookshop next door. She owns it," she said, before walking away and exiting the door behind the counter. He realized the man sitting behind the counter (most likely their receptionist) was staring at him with wide eyes, probably recognizing him and was wondering why he was all chummy with his boss. Harry decided to walk around and looked closely at the various items spread around the office. Photographs of people in different sizes, a mix of muggle and magical, were hung on the wall behind the couches in a montage he assumed were taken from their previous projects. There were also photos of Hermione and Margarethe, and other photos with their staff. He could see that both women enjoyed their work, both in the photos and from observing them the night before. He was in awe of Hermione as he stared at her in the photos while remembering that she also owned the bookshop next door.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

He recognized her voice immediately and turned to face the woman it belonged to. As he looked at the brunette woman, he was again floored by how beautiful she was, and he wondered briefly at the strength of his attraction to her.

He smiled at her. "Hey Hermione. How are you?"

He took a moment to look at her. Her hair was a riot of loose, brunette curls that seemed to almost reach her waist in length. Her face was makeup-free, and although she was gorgeous when she was made up as she was at the party, he decided he much preferred the more natural look on her. She was wearing a white, long-sleeved blouse tucked in a red pencil skirt that simply accentuated her curvy hips and amazing legs. Instead of the pumps he'd seen her twice before, she was wearing a pair of white sneakers, which went well with her outfit. The only thing that marred the almost perfect vision that was Hermione Granger was the frown on her pretty face.

"Why are you here?" She asked in a low voice, clearly not wanting others to overhear their conversation.

"Actually, I came here to see you," he replied easily.

The frown on her face grew deeper at his answer. She looked around, probably checking if people were close enough to hear them talk. Margarethe then walked up to them and spoke.

"Why don't you go to my office and talk there? It's more private."

Harry could see the doubt in Hermione's eyes as she stared at her friend as the two women were having a silent conversation that he wasn't privy to. Hermione nodded and turned to him. "Come on, then."

Without waiting for his agreement, she walked around the reception desk and opened a door next to the stairs. Harry looked at Margarethe and when she gave him a smile and a nod, he immediately walked towards Hermione who was waiting by the opened door. When he entered the room, he didn't have the time to look around because after taking a few steps inside, he turned to face Hermione when he heard the door close.

"Why are you here?" She asked again.

"As I've said before, I came to see you," he returned.

"Why?" Her eyebrows raised as she inquired.

"Because I enjoyed my time with you last night," Harry said. He took a step forward then stopped when Hermione took a step back in surprise. "And I was hoping I can get to see more of you. Did you not enjoy our time together?"

He decided that honesty was the best way to approach this woman. It was plain as day how intelligent Hermione was and he wouldn't want to insult her by spewing flowery words to her. He saw her hesitate for a moment after he spoke his question. Even in their brief time together the night before, he knew she wasn't the kind of woman to waste time pretending she enjoyed his company when, in truth, she didn't.

"I—of course, I did," she replied softly. "I do remember saying that I had a wonderful time with you."

"Then why not have dinner with me?"

She sighed. "I already told you I don't have the time to date," she then looked away, a sad look took residence on her face. "Besides, I don't think dating is for me."

She spoke so low that he wondered if she was speaking to him or herself. Upon seeing the sad expression that should not have any place on her otherwise beautiful face, he was now more determined than ever to show her that going out with him and spending time with him was not a bad idea. He suddenly stood straight and walked a few steps back, creating distance between them. His abrupt movements surprised her, curiosity and confusion were warring in her eyes.

He gave her a friendly smile. "You and I both know there was a… connection—for lack of a better word—between us last night. I'm going to leave you for now, but I hope you give this," he raised his hand and gestured between the two of them, "a bit of thought because you know I'm right." He gave another smile and went around her to reach the door. He paused as he opened the door, "You look beautiful today. I'm quite happy to see you again, Hermione," he said. Then, he exited and closed the door behind him.

Margarethe stood up from the chair previously occupied by the receptionist and met Harry as he walked away from the office door. She gave a sympathetic smile and asked,"Still a no?"

Harry sighed and raked his fingers through his perpetually disheveled hair. "Yeah."

The blonde woman nodded in understanding. She looked at the closed door for a few seconds before looking back at Harry.

"You know she's just afraid, right?"

"I kinda got that. I honestly don't buy the 'I'm too busy' excuse she's been throwing at me. I just want to know why so I can do something about it," he replied. He, of course, believed Margarethe knew the reason behind Hermione's rejection.

She looked at the door again then led him towards the entrance of the office. "You know that I know the reason why she's hesitant but it's not my story to tell. You just have to be patient with her," she said. She paused before the door and turned to look at Harry. "If you're serious about dating her, I could give you a hand—but only if you're serious."

He wasn't sure how everything had progressed so quickly in the span of 24 hours, but he knew in his gut that it would be a grave mistake if he stopped his pursuit of Hermione now. If there was one thing he learned during the previous war, it was to follow his instincts. And his instincts said that he would be a fool to let Hermione go.

He smiled at Margarethe before opening the door and spoke, "I've never been more serious in my entire life." Harry stepped out to the busy street and felt that his life was going to change. Whether that change was for better or worse was still up in the air.

—

Hermione hated running late for anything, but she knew there wasn't anything she could have done so that she could leave her previous meeting on time. A well-known author was going to hold a book launch event at her bookshop, and she had to meet with the author's agent to hammer out the details of the event. The activities to be done prior to the launch and post-event promotions were also discussed. Given that they had scheduled the book launch in a month, they were working on a tight timeline. Of course, despite being loaded with work up to her neck between the bookshop and The Magic Touch, she couldn't disregard potential new clients. That's why she was rushing to Les Envies in muggle London. She wasn't surprised or bothered to meet a would-be client in muggle London as they catered to both magicals and muggles. She was surprised, though, at the venue of the meeting. Les Envies was one of the most expensive and most sought out French restaurants in Great Britain. It was the kind of place that Hermione could never have eaten at in her entire lifetime, so she was somewhat also looking forward to tasting their dishes tonight.

When she gave her name to the woman at the entryway of the restaurant, the maître d′ came rushing to meet her and lead her to one of the private rooms at the back of the restaurant. The interior of the restaurant was modern in design. High ceilings with chandeliers hung low, frosted glass-paneled walls were placed in-between tables in the middle of the main floor, and the same panels were used on one side of the restaurant. On the other side were wide windows that showed the busy London street.

She wondered again who the potential client was because it seemed they required the utmost privacy for this meeting. Margarethe wasn't able to brief her properly because she was caught up in another meeting with suppliers when she sent Hermione a message that she would not be able to make this appointment. She asked if Hermione could go in her place instead since it was important. Of course, she couldn't say no to her friend, and since more clients meant more income for The Magic Touch, she didn't mind so much. When they reached one of the doors of the private rooms, the maître d′ knocked and waited for the confirmation they could enter. When the permission came, the maître d′ gave her a nod then proceeded to open the door. He stood aside as he held the door open for her to enter.

The minute she entered the room, she knew who was there. For reasons unknown, since the day they met, she had developed a hyper-awareness for this man. Maybe it was that connection which he mentioned before, though she didn't know yet if that was true. But she couldn't deny that she already knew he was there even before she laid eyes on him.

The moment their eyes met, it felt like time stood still. She barely noticed the maître d′ excusing himself and closing the door behind him. Hermione could not deny that her attraction to Harry was strong, and it only grew stronger every time she saw him. She recalled the conversation she had with Margarethe after Harry came looking for her at their office more than a week ago.

She didn't know how long she stood there after Harry had left the room. She surmised it had been a few minutes already. Her emotions were jumbled, and she didn't know what to feel or think. Here was a wonderful and gorgeous man, asking her out to dinner, and yet, she rejected him. Twice. Harry Potter could have had any woman he wanted. And for some unfathomable reason, he wanted to date her. She knew she was just passably pretty, far from being as beautiful as the French girls she went to school with. More often than not, people would likely compliment her for being smart more than for her looks. She didn't mind that at all, for she took pride in her intelligence. So, this pursuit of Harry Potter utterly baffled her. It simply did not make sense. Prior to today, they only met briefly—twice. And yet, she had to agree with his assessment. There was a connection between them, and it kept getting stronger. She didn't understand it for it defied any logic, but she could not deny it was there because she felt it too.

A knock on the door made her jump a little and interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey, you okay?" Margarethe asked when she entered the room. Hermione released a breath she didn't know she was holding when the door opened.

What, were you expecting Harry to walk back in the room? She berated herself. She gave a long sigh and answered her friend, "I honestly don't know."

Margarethe nodded and closed the door behind her. She led her friend to the chairs in front of her office desk and took a seat on the right one while Hermione dropped herself on the left.

Hermione raised her right hand and began rubbing her forehead. She could feel a headache coming.

"Tell me what you're really thinking," Margarethe said, breaking the silence.

She sighed, dropped her hand, and leaned her head on the back of the chair. "I just… don't think dating him is a good idea."

"Why not?"

Hermione turned her head towards her friend, giving her a look as if she had grown an extra head. "Have you seen the man? He's gorgeous! He's smart and funny. He's such a gentleman and practically perfect in every way. He is everything a woman could wish for and more! And don't forget, he's bloody famous worldwide. And I'm… me," she gestured at herself then turned her head again and closed her eyes. "He's way out of my league. Not to mention, I have too much baggage. A man like that could never accept the kind of baggage I carry."

Margarethe sat up and glared at her, "Stop right there! Just stop. You are not out of his league, all right? You are a strong, amazing, and loving woman. You have your own business, for Circe's sake! And I doubt the bloke even cares about the status quo. He's interested in you! He barely knows you, but he went looking for you just to ask you out. And maybe you should let him decide whether he's man enough to accept and share your baggage."

"I just know that he will run as fast as he could the moment he finds out, just like all the other men before…"

"And how would you know that? You won't even give the poor man a chance! You don't know if he'll reject you. You don't know if he'll run away after you tell him the truth, like those jerks you've dated before. Maybe he's finally the person who will help you carry the weight you've been carrying for years."

Hermione glared at her friend and answered, "Because I'd rather nip it in the bud before I get my hopes up again! I've got too much going on in my life as it is. I don't have time to date famous bachelors who have the pick of any woman in the world! I don't want to be just a notch on someone's belt. I can't just think of myself anymore, you know that." A tense silence followed her outburst.

"I know what's really on your mind," Margarethe started, her voice calmer than before. "You're scared."

Hermione deflated and released a long sigh. She nodded.

"I'm bloody scared of getting my hopes up. I'm scared of trusting someone again. I'm scared because I don't know what's going to happen if I do start dating him." She looked at her friend with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "But what I'm scared most is I know I could fall in love with him."

As she brought herself back to the present, she frowned and narrowed her eyes towards Harry Potter.

"I think I'm in the wrong room," she said, her voice tense. She moved to leave when Harry spoke for the first time.

"No, you're in the right room," he replied, and gave her a lopsided smile.

She turned back to face him, trying to keep herself calm. "I'm supposed to meet a client here."

"You're looking at him," he replied as his smile grew.

An idea clicked in her mind. Margarethe was adamant about her meeting with this client that she even said the appointment could not be rescheduled to another date. "So, this is some sort of trick you and Margarethe came up with to get me to have dinner with you?" She asked, the irritation clear in her voice.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

Hermione rolled her eyes and harrumphed. "You are wasting my time," she said. She turned to leave again but Harry rushed forward and caught her arm.

"Please, just have dinner with me this one time. And if you end up hating every minute of it, then I'll back off and leave you alone," he pleaded. She looked at his eyes and only saw sincerity there.

She sighed again. "Fine. I am quite hungry."

His smile returned then he led her to the table that was set in the middle of the room. He pulled the chair for her to sit down then he sat on his own across her. He passed her the menu.

"Order whatever you want. Although I took the liberty of ordering our drinks. I hope you like red wine," he said.

"I love wine. But I also like the occasional bitter," she replied.

He gave her another smile. "Me too. Personally, I prefer beer over wine. But since this place doesn't serve beer, we'll have to make do with wine."

She chuckled. "Poor us." She felt herself calming and getting comfortable. There was something about Harry's presence that made her feel safe and at peace. She shook those thoughts away.

"Are you ready to order?" He asked. When she nodded, he pressed a button that was on the table and the maître d′ suddenly entered the room.

"Have you made your choices, monsieur et madame?" He inquired.

After they gave their orders, another waiter came in to serve their wine and left it in a bucket of ice beside their table.

Hermione took a sip of the wine in her glass and hummed. "Hmm. That's a good choice."

"Why, thank you. Don't sound too surprised," Harry teased.

She laughed. "Sorry. Not many men like wine, you know. Even rarer are those who know the good ones."

He leaned forward and gestured for her to move closer as if he was going to tell her a secret. He looked around and put his hand beside his mouth. "Don't tell anyone but it's the only brand of wine I know."

She giggled at that and moved back in her chair. After she controlled her laughter, she looked at him with amused eyes. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"I know that," he said easily. The maître d′ entered again and served their appetizers then their main course. They talked as they ate, steering clear of the conversation about why Hermione didn't want to date Harry.

As they were enjoying their wine, it seemed like Harry finally decided to address the elephant in the room.

"So tell me, why did you say no when I asked you to dinner?"

Hermione, who was about to drink her wine, was startled by the question. She put her glass down and kept her eyes on the wine. Harry waited patiently while it took her a few moments before she answered.

"I told you, I have my hands full with both the bookshop and the events company. I don't have the time to date," she said as she kept her eyes on her glass, afraid to look at his mesmerizing emerald eyes.

"You did tell me that. But somehow, I know that's not the only reason. I feel like something else is holding you back," he replied, his tone soft.

She looked up at him, surprised at his accurate perception. She was still thinking of a response to that, but Harry continued speaking.

"You can tell me the truth, whatever it is," he said.

She could see in his eyes the genuineness of that statement. She wanted to tell him everything, it's like his eyes were compelling her but her fears still far outweighed that desire.

"I… have baggage. Baggage that men like you would rather not deal with," she finally said, the end almost a whisper.

"Try me."

She stared at him for what felt like forever, deciding whether to be honest with him or not. She was deathly afraid of taking the chance, the risk of having more than just her heartbroken. But would she rather live not knowing if he could handle her and everything that came with her life?

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Decision made, she released her breath and looked directly in his emerald eyes.

"Harry, I have a nine-year-old son."