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

Huh.

So that's what she meant about having baggage, he thought. Of all the things he thought could be the reason why she didn't want to date him, having a young son was definitely not one of them. He could understand her concerns, to a degree. He felt slight apprehension that the thought of her having a son could mean she had a husband, but he cut that thought immediately. She did say that there was no Mr. Granger, or ever, and he believed her wholeheartedly. She may not have been as forthcoming regarding her reason as to why she rejected him before, but he knew she would not have lied to him.

Her eyes never left his even after her revelation. As he stared back, he saw there was a challenge in those expressive cinnamon-coloured eyes. As if she was daring him to jump up and leave immediately. He came to realize she expected him to do just that after finding out she had a child. He wondered what kind of men this brilliant had woman dated before. Stupid arseholes, that's what they were. Stupid, blind arseholes. They ditched her just because she had a kid? They didn't deserve a minute of this her time and attention. This beautiful and strong woman, who had the courage to move to another country to start a new life, opened her own business and raised a son all on her own. He was truly in awe of her. Perhaps his admiration was visible on his face because there was suddenly a redness growing on her cheeks. He shook his head and gave her an amused smile.

"What? did you expect me to go running out of this room, screaming?" He teased her, taking a drink of his wine.

Probably not expecting this reaction to her revelation, she was speechless for a few moments. Her mouth opened and closed, much like a fish, which he thought was adorable. She gathered herself and took a deep breath. She looked at him and confusion was evident on her face.

"Well, yeah. That's usually the reception I get when I tell the men I date that I have a son," she shrugged. "Some were more subtle about it, some weren't."

He shook his head and took another drink of his wine. He regarded her for a few moments, which he saw made her slightly uncomfortable, before putting his glass down.

"Well, tough," he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I happen to really like kids," he said and a smirk grew on his face.

"You do?"

Harry nodded. "Well, it's hard not to. I have a godson who's eight years old and I completely adore him. I make it a point to have him stay with me whenever I'm home or on break from Quidditch. Teddy's—that's his name—parents died in the war, you see, so I took it upon myself to take care of him as if he was my own, although he does live with his grandmother most of the time since I travel so much because of my profession. But I hope to get him to live with me full time someday. I love the little tyke and I miss him when I'm away."

He took a sip of water then continued. "And my best mate, Ron, has tons of nieces and nephews, whom I see whenever I visit his parents' house for Sunday brunch. Even some of our schoolmates from Hogwarts already have kids. So I'm surrounded by kids of all ages, all the time. Besides, growing up as an only child, I've always thought I'd have a big family of my own someday."

She nodded and looked down at her lap. He could see she wasn't sure how to handle the situation. There was also a sadness about her that was hard to miss, even if she tried her best not to show it. Harry cursed those idiots that rejected her just because she had a son.

"I'm not the kind of woman you normally date," she spoke softly, her eyes still trained on her lap.

"No, you're not," he agreed.

She let out a little huff then looked up at him with a slight hurt visible in her eyes, "Well, that settles it then, doesn't it? A bachelor like you shouldn't involve himself with single mothers like me. I've seen the women you date in the papers, you know. I am nothing like those gorgeous, stick-thin, perfectly made-up models and famous people you're normally seen with."

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But you're quite beautiful, too. And I like having stimulating conversations about anything other than what makeup you should use or what dress you should buy. I may be a jock but I'm not entirely an airhead, you know."

"I just don't understand why you even want to go out with me."

He just shrugged. "I just know, from the moment I met you, that we would be good together."

"You can't possibly know that."

Harry simply took a sip of his wine. "Why don't you tell me about your son?" He not-so-subtly changed the topic. He didn't want to start debating with her again about whether they should be dating or not. He saw her eyes soften as she thought about her son as a tender smile grew on her lips.

"He's just this little ball of energy. He has to be constantly moving or else he'll just have all this stamina and he wouldn't know where to put it all. That's why I enrolled him in football camp for the summer, while regular school is out," she chuckled. "But he also loves his books. I would always bring him to the library in France when he was smaller."

"Sounds like an awesome kid. What's his name?" Harry said.

"His name is Ethan," she replied.

"And his father?"

There was pain and anger in her eyes when asked about the boy's father and he wondered why the thought of him caused those emotions. She shook her head slowly and replied, "He's not in the picture."

"Was he in the picture before?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. He was never in the picture. Not for a single second."

He was honestly curious about that situation but decided to ask her about it some other time instead. They were still treading on fragile grounds at the moment. Harry simply nodded then decided to ask more about her son and telling her more about his godson, leaving behind the depressing topic of the absent father.

"Does Ethan know about magic?" He asked.

"Well, yes. Although, I didn't assume he would be magical, even if his father and I were both magical ourselves. I'm a Muggle-born, you see. So there was a possibility that the magical gene would skip a generation. But when he displayed his first accidental magic at age two, Margarethe and I have been teaching him about magic ever since," she explained.

"Wow. He must be pretty powerful to have done accidental magic at two years old. Mine didn't happen until I was probably around five. But then again, you're quite powerful yourself."

She moved her head slightly to the side. "How'd you suss that out?"

"I can feel your magic all around you, like a second skin," he began. "It's a skill I learned during the war years ago. It helped me gauge how powerful my allies and enemies were. I may only be a quidditch player now but I still got the skills I've learned back then."

"And it's quite obvious how powerful you are, too. You might seem all laidback and easy-going, but your magic is humming around you, right above your skin. Not many people would see or feel it, as not many wizards or witches are as attuned to the magic around us, although I did see and feel it the first time we met back at the stadium."

"See? Not just beautiful, but also smart and powerful," he said, a smile of pride on his lips.

She blushed at the praise. "Speaking of quidditch, what made you decide to pursue it?" He could see the genuine curiosity in her eyes. It wasn't like the others that asked the same question while judging him for his choices. "I mean, I would have thought the British Ministry of Magic would have bent over backwards just to get the hero who defeated Voldemort to work for them."

He stared at her in wonder. Even after eight years since Voldemort's demise, only a handful of people, mostly the people who fought with him, would say his name. To hear Hermione say Voldemort's name out loud was further proof that this woman was definitely something special.

"Did I say something wrong?" She inquired, worry laced in her voice.

"Oh, no! Of course not. Why did you think so?" He assured her.

"It's just… You suddenly grew quiet then you were just staring at me."

Harry chuckled. "Well, to answer your question about quidditch, most of my teenage years were dedicated to training and preparing myself to face Voldemort. I studied as hard as I could, I trained to fight in both magical and muggle ways, did everything I could so I would have a fighting chance against him when the day came since he was believed to be the most powerful dark wizard of our time. I even thought of becoming an auror after I finished Hogwarts when I was 15.

"But after everything was said and done, I didn't want to fight anymore. I've already fought in a war a teenager had no business getting involved in. So after the final battle with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, I just took my NEWTS then left to travel the world for a while." He drank the remaining wine in his glass then refilled it again. He noticed that Hermione was staring at him. There was a look in her eyes and he wasn't sure what it was. Before he could speak again, she suddenly spoke.

"Then why were you quiet for a bit back there?"

He gave her an amused smile. She just couldn't let things go, could she? "You simply amaze me, Hermione. The majority of the magical community still can't say Voldemort's name out loud, you know. And here you are, a muggle-born at that, speaking his name without hesitation."

She blushed delightfully again. "I was taught that fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself."

"You are absolutely right, Hermione. I refused to adhere to calling him You-Know-Who because, while he may have been powerful magically, it was that fear that gave him more power. I wish more people lived by those words. Voldemort has been dead for years and yet, people still won't say his name out loud," he said.

"Well, most people have lived through both wars against him. That's two decades of living in fear of him and it will be difficult for them to let go of something they've grown used to for that long. Maybe we can teach the younger generation not to fear his name like the adults do."

He grinned at her. "You truly are brilliant. Ethan's lucky to have such a brilliant mother."

"Thank you for thinking so," she said, her blush returning.

"I don't simply think so. I know so," he winked.

Hermione laughed at that and he was glad. This was their first date and he didn't want stories about the war to ruin it. He realized that if he was going to continue seeing her, which he had already decided to do til the day she grew tired of him, he was going to have to tell her about his past. Not many people knew what truly happened during the final battle, not even the people who were there. Only his family and closest friends knew most of it.

He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself.

He saw Hermione looked at her watch and must have realized it was already getting late.

"Oh dear. Time got away from me. I need to get going," she said, standing up in a hurry and began collecting her things. Harry summoned the maître d′ who immediately entered the room.

"Nigel, just put everything on my account, alright?" He said as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket.

"Of course, sir," Nigel replied then turned to Hermione. "Was everything to your liking, Miss?"

She turned to the middle-aged man and gave him a smile. "Oh yes. The food was wonderful. Thank you, Nigel."

Harry approached Hermione and grabbed the coat from the back of her seat. He put it up so he could help Hermione put it on. Hermione looked at him for a moment then just let him put the coat on her. Both faced Nigel with a smile.

"Yes, everything was lovely. Thank you, Nigel," Harry said.

The maître d′ gave them a slight bow in appreciation. "We hope to see you again here, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter."

"You can bet on that," Harry replied with a smile. He placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back then led her to exit the room. Hermione simply glanced back at him and he gave her a smile. He kept his hand there until they left the restaurant and were now walking to the apparition point a few metres away.

They walked in companionable silence and were near the apparition point when Hermione suddenly spoke. "It's okay, Harry. I can apparate home from here. You don't need to walk with me."

Harry looked at her but he kept walking. "I'd like to walk you home, if you don't mind. I'd like to make sure you got home safe." What he didn't say was that he felt like he didn't want to part from her yet. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her.

"I can take care of myself, you know," she countered, raising her chin in defiance.

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure you can. Let's just say it's for my peace of mind."

She huffed but she looked up at him and gave him a smile to show that she appreciated his sentiments. He smiled back at her. They reached the apparition point in just a few short moments, where Hermione then turned to Harry and said. "I'll side-along you, would that be alright?"

"Of course. It's not a problem," he assured her. Before she said anything further, he removed his hand from her back and took her hand, interlocking their fingers together. Her eyes widened then immediately looked down at their joined hands. He thought that she would pull away but she didn't and there was a blush growing on her cheeks again. Her face was flushed and Harry liked seeing her that way, knowing that it was him that caused it.

She gave him a shy smile. "Ready?"

He just gave her a nod and a smile then they were gone.

He still hadn't let go of her hand.

They appeared at one of the apparition points near her flat and were walking side by side, hands still joined. She noticed how his large hand simply swallowed her small one, keeping it warm.

"Where are we?" He asked, looking around and taking in his surroundings.

"Wembley. I live at Emerald Gardens."

"So that's why this place looked a bit familiar. I've been going to Wembley Stadium with some of the blokes to watch football."

"You do? Ethan and I often watch games there, as well," she replied, the surprise clear in her voice.

"Well, I have muggle-born friends and we introduced football to some of our pureblood friends. It might not be as intense and dangerous as quidditch but luckily, they found it quite enjoyable and interesting, so we've been going to games ever since."

"Maybe… we can watch a game together sometime? I can bring along Teddy, as well." Harry asked tentatively, after a few moments of silence as they walked. Her heart suddenly skipped at the question. Was she really going to do this? She hadn't even agreed to dating him yet. But going to a few football games with him and her son shouldn't mean that they were dating, right? They were simply adults who enjoyed watching the sport. And yet… the longer they spent together, the more it felt right to her. The more she got to know him, the more she felt it would feel akin to getting her heart ripped out of her chest if she suddenly decided not to see him again. It was strange and quite troubling, this growing attachment she had for him. But trying to stop it would be like trying to stop a freight train with just her hands.

She looked up at him, a small smile on her face. "I think Ethan and I would like that."

A bright smile adorned his handsome face and only served to make him even more gorgeous. How did this amazing specimen of a man take notice of her? It was a heady experience, if she were to be completely honest with herself, to be the center of his undivided attention. His joy at her simple acquiescence was contagious and she began to feel her smile grow too. They continued to talk about football and when they could watch a game together. Hermione failed to notice that they had almost reached her flat until she heard the ding sounded on the lift they were on and the doors opened. She had to check if they were on the correct floor because it seemed like she'd been on auto-pilot. She glanced at Harry to see if he noticed her mishap, but he was busy taking in the surroundings. They continued walking until they stopped in front of a door with a metal number seven attached to it.

"Interesting flat number. My jersey number is seven," Harry said, amused. There was a gleam in his eyes that Hermione didn't know how to describe.

"Well then, this is my stop," she began, she didn't know why she was nervous all of a sudden. "Thank you for walking me home. It really wasn't necessary but I appreciate it all the same."

"It was my pleasure. And my reasons weren't entirely unselfish," he replied.

She nodded. "Goodnight, then." She turned towards the door, forgetting that he was still holding her hand. She felt him pull her back so she turned towards him. She was about to ask him to let her hand go but the words died in her throat when she looked him in the eyes. They were a darker shade and the intensity in them threatened to swallow her whole.

"Hermione…" His voice was so low and raspy that she felt like melting into his arms. "May I kiss you?"

It took awhile for her foggy mind to comprehend his question and all she could think of was how his lips would feel against hers.

"Yes please," a voice said, soft and husky. She wasn't sure if she was the one who spoke. It must have came from her because, in the next second, his lips were on hers. They were tentative, at first, maybe giving her a chance to move away if she didn't want to continue anymore. She then pressed her lips harder against his and opened her mouth when his tongue swept along to tease her lower lip. It was like a dam had broken. The hand that was holding hers let it go and the same arm had wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her tighter to him, while his other hand cupped her cheek. Her tongue caressed his for the first time, and he tasted like the wine they had consumed and something distinctly Harry that she knew was something she could become addicted to in a short time. She wasn't sure how long they were kissing, and she would have kept going, but the need for air was the only reason they stopped. Harry didn't move that far from her, either. He leaned his forehead on hers, his eyes remained closed, as they both took a moment to catch their breath. She didn't realize they'd moved because she was now pressed against her door and Harry's body was against her.

"Harry…"

He opened his eyes and moved just a bit to look at her properly. "You, Ms. Granger, are one hell of a kisser."

Her cheeks flushed even further, feeling a bit shy about the compliment. "So are you, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you. But I think it's best you go in now. Or else, I will end up devouring you in this hallway," he said lightly, but the huskiness in his voice betrayed his true desires. They slowly moved to disentangled themselves from each other and rearranged their clothes back to being proper. When they were done, they stared at each other then a smile grew on each of their faces.

"Thank you again, Harry. For tonight," she finally spoke.

Harry took her hand again and he kissed the back of it this time. "I'd like to take you out again."

"I… would love that," she replied.

Another bright smile graced his face, his delight clear to her. "Go on now," he gestured towards the door, "and I will see you again soon."

She nodded and turned to open the door with her keys. When she crossed the threshold, she turned back and smiled at him. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

With a last smile, she closed the door and locked it. She heard his footsteps walk away as he left her door and she stood there listening until he was completely gone. She turned and leaned on the door, a huge smile adorning her face. She had been on dates before, of course, but none of them made her feel the way Harry had made her feel tonight. He made her feel beautiful, he did not shame her for her intelligence, and he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. And he was perfect when she told him all about Ethan, asking her about her son. That thought brought her to him. She was still worried about where this budding relationship would go and how it would affect Ethan, but her friends were right. She did have the right to be happy and to experience life and love, just like everyone else. And maybe, just maybe, Harry would be the one.

Merlin, what a kiss!

The smile that had graced his face remained as he walked back to the apparition point so he can apparate to his flat. He was still smiling as he got himself ready for sleep, even still as he laid in his bed and tried to go to sleep. But his mind kept replaying the kiss they shared in the hallway outside her flat. It was everything he'd hoped for and more. He certainly didn't plan to kiss her tonight. He was willing to let the night end without so much as a peck on the cheek but what did end up happening was infinitely better than what he expected. He didn't remember making the conscious decision to kiss her. It was just a spur of the moment when she was about to enter the flat. He didn't want to let her go and he didn't want their night to end just yet. But kissing her was unlike anything he had felt before. He could not put a name to the feeling it invoked in him but he knew it felt great, and he wanted to feel that again. He wanted to feel her delicious lips on his once more.

She finally agreed to go out with him. Tonight didn't happen as he and Margarethe planned it without her knowledge, but now, she finally agreed and he was already looking forward to their next date.

He looked at the clock on his nightstand and realized it was already terribly late. He had practice tomorrow and he needed to be at the stadium quite early. Lacking a few hours of sleep after spending a wonderful night with Hermione was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make. He made himself comfortable in his bed so he could finally fall asleep, but his thoughts were still with the beautiful brunette.

He didn't know if getting involved with her was a smart move because her revelation did complicate things a lot. But, if there was one thing this evening showed him, it was that he was not prepared to stop seeing Hermione and spending time with her. And if she had baggage that came in the form of a nine-year-old kid, then he was willing to take it.