One of the best parts about England in Lucy's opinion was the history, The Leaky Cauldron included. After all it was the oldest pub in London. America's pubs weren't half as charming, even if this one did have a hint of stale booze lurking under the mouth-watering scent of fresh bread. The constant hum of guests made the pub feel lively without being too boisterous and all the old wooden tables gave it a dated look that counted as charming and historical instead of out of touch. All in all it made for the perfect place to get a meal or drink and read. The Leaky Cauldron was the place where she could sit and feel like she belonged, unlike her cramped little flat that didn't quite feel like home yet.

She glanced up from her book about early magic in Britain, one of the latest bestsellers that all the bookshops pushed. She'd snagged her favorite chair at the corner table—a difficult feat on busy days. The spot gave her a view of the whole pub, which meant she could watch for him, the handsome redhead she'd first spotted three weeks ago. She'd never considered herself a fan of redheads before. But that was before she heard him laugh. That laugh was like a siren's song that snagged her curiosity and refused to let go.

Her gaze raked the room for the fourth time. He was late today and the seats were filling up. Soon only bar seating would be left, which would put him clear on the other side of the room from her.

She grabbed her drink, wishing she had the guts to approach him instead of watching him like a total creep. Sure, she'd gone through a tough break up four months ago. It'd played a part in her leaving for an imagined grand new life. Why not come to England to chase career opportunities and visit her extended family she rarely got to see? She'd always wanted an adventure. Unfortunately, she was beginning to think she wasn't cut out for an adventure, not unless anyone considered sitting around in a pub reading a book multiple times a week an adventure. She was still working on the new friends part, and she didn't want to annoy her favorite cousin too much. Oliver Wood's social life was busy enough without her. Either way, she didn't have a good excuse for why she sat around fantasizing about a stranger, no matter how good looking he was.

A rich laugh broke the buzz of voices and her heart skipped a beat. She peeked over her book. He'd come, just like he had the last three Thursdays for lunch. He leaned against the bar, right hand buried in his trousers' pocket, giving him an air of easy confidence. She admired that confidence. His shaggy hair made him look charming and his toned arms hinted at a hidden athleticism. His smart gray suit made him appear refined. And while the room was too dark to tell, she was willing to bet his eyes shone whenever he laughed, or maybe she'd been reading too many romance novels since her breakup. What she did know for sure was he liked books too; he always read while he ate. The first week she spotted him with a guidebook about New York City and last week a book about the effects of potions on the human body.

She bet he spent his weekends climbing mountains and traveling Europe. Or flying around a Quidditch pitch while his supermodel girlfriend cheered him on. Maybe he was a doctor at St. Mungo's and the lead hunk like on Muggle medical shows. She could imagine endless possibilities with him unavailable in every single one of them. And in none of them did he sit around watching girls without having the guts to approach them. A confident hunk like him had no use for shyness or anxiety.

A pretty woman with the fashion sense of a movie star tapped him on the shoulder and leaned over to speak with him. He tilted his head toward the woman. She rested her hand on his upper arm and he didn't pull away. They made a good match together. Side by side they looked good enough to grace a magazine cover.

Lucy looked back down at her book. She'd imagined how to approach him a hundred times. Fantasized how it'd play out while she lied awake at night staring at the ceiling. She managed to flirt with a cute blond at a bookstore a week ago, but as soon as she saw the redhead her confidence washed away with the rain. She let out a sigh. Had her break up really made her so afraid of rejection? Afraid of how difficult another relationship would be?

Rain pattered against the windows. Sometimes she found the sound soothing, but mostly she hated how often it rained in England. She missed all the sunny days back home free of clouds and mud. English Quidditch players had to be experts at handling slippery balls and getting soaked to the bone. And their immune systems must be fantastic. Not that she'd know, she'd never been good enough to make the team during her school days and she rarely kept up with the world cup. Maybe she could take lessons from her cousin. Oliver always claimed to be a fantastic keeper and despite being a few years older than her, she was beginning to wonder if Quidditch would always come first to him.

"Sorry to interrupt your glaring battle with the rain, but can I sit here? All the other tables are taken," a smooth voice asked.

She glanced up, her pulse stuttering as she came face-to-face with the redhead haunting her daydreams. He stood with a plate in one hand, a drink in the other, a book tucked under one arm, and an expectant look on his face. This wasn't the first time she shared a table with a stranger. Still, she'd never dared hope to share one with him.

"Sure." Her voice came out high and she wished she could melt away in embarrassment. How could she seduce a guy if she couldn't manage one lousy word? She wasn't a schoolgirl anymore. Handsome men shouldn't turn her into such a knotted ball of nerves.

"Brilliant. I was afraid I'd have to sit with the horde of teenage girls over there." He tilted his head in their direction while he set his food and drink down. "Between you and me, teenage girls are a bit scary. They always seem to come in packs, like wolves."

She glanced over toward the windows and spotted the gaggle of girls leaning over a magazine. A shirtless male model smiled up at them from the pages. Hearts surrounded his head. They giggled in unison. "I don't think wolves enjoy wearing matching nail polish."

"Have you ever checked?" His voice was lighthearted, letting her know he was teasing. "Ah, we're reading the same book," he said as he slid into his seat. She whirled her head back around and caught the front cover of his book on the table. Unable to come up with anything witty, all she could do was nod. She struggled to think of something while he opened his book, but her mind came up blank.

And then his attention was on his food and book, leaving her to peek over hers at him. When she grabbed her drink the ice cubes made such a racket she feared she'd annoy him, but he didn't look up. She could ask a question yet. Heaven knows her book never kept the strangers who'd shared her table before from bothering her. But what if he didn't like his reading being disturbed? Her ex hated his concentration being interrupted. The last thing she wanted to be remembered as was that annoying woman who wouldn't let him read in peace.

Get a grip, she told herself. Had she really expected any of her fantasies to play out? For him to walk over and ask her on a date? Her scenery may have changed, but she knew dating wouldn't be any easier in England than America. And now she was at the age where it was a tossup whether a man she spotted with no ring could be single or weeks away from walking to the altar.

Mister Handsome's forehead wrinkled as he read. He remained engrossed in his book. His mouth hung open for several moments before he turned the page and finally took a bite out of his sandwich.

Realizing how delusional she'd been, she snapped her book shut. She really needed to get out more instead of sitting around spying on men. Oliver mentioned a local Quidditch match tomorrow. He might be busy with a date but no reason she couldn't go alone. It'd be better than sulking at home and she hadn't been to a match yet. Moving to England would be useless if she didn't try to experience what it had to offer.

"Don't like the book?"

She raised her head to find him staring at her. With her fantasies quashed her nerves had scattered with the rain. No way this guy didn't have a girlfriend, so why feel nervous? She didn't need to impress him.

"I think it's dry." She reached for her drink to hide the frown threatening to show, her day feeling like one huge disappointment.

His head bobbed. "As dry as the burnt toast my mum makes."

Surprised, she snorted into her drink.

"I'm only reading it because someone recommended it to me, but I don't think I'll trust her recommendations ever again." Her. Of course there was a her. He probably had a lot of women in his life.

"Mine was a gift." Bless Oliver's heart, he'd tried, but he didn't spend much time with books. He often teased her, saying if she had gone to Hogwarts she'd be a Ravenclaw. "And I can't go into any bookstores without seeing a dozen copies of it."

Mr. Handsome tilted his head in a way that made her think of a curious puppy. "Is that an American accent I hear? I can't imagine an American coming all this way just for some leaky cookware." Oh god, good looks and a sense of humor. His girlfriend was a lucky girl.

This answer she had down pat. Enough strangers had already asked her. "I moved here recently. Thought England would make for a good change of scenery."

"Ah. That explains why you were glaring at the rain. I hear you Americans are spoiled by the sun."

She smiled. "It's much better than being drowned by the rain."

"George," he said, holding his hand out.

She stared at his hand for a moment before realizing he wanted a handshake. She blushed as she accepted his hand. "Lucy."

"So Lucy, what do you think of England so far?" He bit into his sandwich, never taking his gaze off her.

"I'm not a fan of the rain, but all the good looking Brits with cute accents have made the move worth it so far." She'd used the same line on the blond last week when he offered to share his umbrella with her after her American accent surprised him. The second time around the line didn't feel as smooth. She wondered if it was too much.

He grinned at her. "If you are into cute Brits, I'd say you're in the right place."

She rested her head on her hand. Something about him made him feel inviting, easy to talk to. Unlike her ex he didn't look too serious or like a workaholic tied to his office. Instead his relaxed position made him seem easy going and not likely to bite her head off for asking questions. He might be taken, but he was too interesting to walk away from so soon.

Besides, she had a lot of questions. Why'd he come in every Thursday? And was he planning a trip to New York City? Was that why he read the guidebook? For now she figured it'd be best to stick to less personal questions. No reason to keep dreaming about a man likely to be off limits. "Did you happen to go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course. Why?" One eyebrow rose.

"Just curious. My cousin went to Hogwarts and I was always jealous he got to go to school in such an old castle. I had a teacher who was obsessed with Hogwarts. She always held it up as the golden standard to strive for. Between her and some of the ways our school tried to mimic Hogwarts, I always wondered if Hogwarts would stand up to its name." She turned her gaze back toward the rain. Hogwarts wasn't very far from here. She'd have to remember to ask Oliver if visitors were allowed.

George chewed on his sandwich, his brow knitting in thought. He swallowed. "I've always wanted to visit New York City. I'm hoping to get there next year." That explained the guidebook he'd been toting around two weeks ago.

"I've been there. It's noisy with tourists everywhere. Although Broadway is pretty good."

"Not enough men with cute accents there for you, eh?"

She laughed. "Guess not."

He glanced down at his pocket watch. "It's been swell, but I've gotta get back to work. Cheers." He saluted her before tucking the book back under his arm and standing. Before he reached the door a house elf cleared his dishes away and by the time he disappeared into the rain, it felt like he'd never been at the table at all.

With the pub beginning to clear out, she knew she ought to get back to work too. She wasn't ready to get back to her cramped flat yet. She pulled the latest magazine article out of her messenger bag. It was due to hit the printers in two days and she needed to finish final proofreads first. Next week she'd be able to get started on the proofs for the new line up of American books scheduled to be published in the UK. Sitting around reading all day, the exciting life of an editor.

Tomorrow there'd be a Quidditch match to watch and help her forget a certain redhead. Something to get her to stop thinking about whether or not he'd be back next Thursday. In seven more days she'd find out. Or maybe fate would smile on her for once and there's be a cute boy in the Quidditch stands and that cute boy just might happen to be George. If she got him when he wasn't ready to rush back to wherever he worked, maybe she could find a way to seduce him yet.