Dare Me

“Dare me.”

Hermione Granger had no idea what she was talking about.

Of course, anyone who'd been drinking Firewhisky would have already lost coherent thought by now. But then, who would even considering taking more than two glasses of that stuff?

What with all the problems in the world and all that crazy relationships everybody had to deal with, one would think that if a person finally decided to get pissed, she would do it right, without messing it up with a stunt that would make matters even worse after she was done with hangovers.

But Hermione Granger saw no need to even think about that because she wasn't the type to get drunk and make crazy announcements in the middle of a pub.

No.

She wasn't the type to be spontaneous, nor relaxed at anything. In order, that was how things were supposed to be with her. She'd always been the most level-headed in their group as she never acted irrationally or impulsively.

She found it calming. This was how she ran her life. And it had always led her to right decisions, uh…almost always.

Her family saw this endearing. How could they not? She was family. There was, after all, a rule that said one cannot choose the family from which one came.

Her friends, who really couldn't do anything about her personality, just found it amusing. They put up with with the torturous details of her day with practiced grins of their own; she recognized them even when they're just about to smile.

Her cat found it assuring, since he won't have to fear for him meal everyday, seeing that Hermione knew when to feed him, what to feed him and how to feed him.

Her boyfriends…

Well, they considered it annoying…

And a one-way ticket to breaking up with her…

She sighed.

How many times had she heard the reason “it's not you, it's me?”

Honestly! If they didn't go out with her because of her looks, let it be a consolation that she had the brains to be appreciated for.

Her relationships usually began with the usual compliments that never seemed to stop until guys finally knew she was ready to take the next step. Once they were already one foot up with a routine, which was what Hermione preferred their relationship to have, they suddenly lose interest.

She'd already heard a lot of lame excuses, funny ones even.

But all of them boiled down to one reason.

She wasn't exciting.

And the most frustrating part was, she wanted to become one, but not without a fool-proof plan, which, rationally speaking, didn't really count for being spontaneous.

Her breakup with Lucas had taken her by surprise.

And it still hurt.

Considering that it only happened yesterday, it was no wonder it still did!

He had been the longest to endure her constant reminders and her perfect schedule. They had been steady for almost a year. After going through all those relationships with guys who couldn't bear to be shackled with her orderly manners, she thought that their record-breaking relationship was a sign that he appreciated her.

When he came to her office the day before, wearing a suit and everything a man in love should be wearing, she wondered whether he was there to propose. And she had every right to think so because Ginny had seen him in the jewelry shop a couple of weeks ago.

But much to her surprise, who came in looking all gorgeous and sexy as hell in her office after him?

His fiancée.

If anybody struck a knife at her heart at that very moment, she could have sworn it would have felt better.

Her friends had not yet found out why she had agreed to go out that night, when clearly she had other things to do. But she was sure it would come up sooner or later.

This thought made her realize that she had to do something impulsive. She had been contemplating on what to do when the words spilled from her mouth unintentionally.

She had been drinking, yes, but she wasn't totally out of it.

So what in hell's name possessed her to announce such a ridiculous thing?

“What?” Ginny Weasley, her red-headed friend asked. She had drunk a fair share of Firewhisky herself, but not so much that she didn't notice Hermione's unusual behavior.

Hermione gulped. She closed her eyes to steady her gaze. “Nothing.”

“You said, dare me.”

“Dare you to what?” Luna Weasley, wife of Ginny's brother asked.

“Forget I said it.” Hermione said, but her answer had been in a not so firm tone.

“Why did you, though?” Luna asked, taking a sip of her Butterbeer, which she had decided to drink instead of alcohol, being two and a half months pregnant.

And Hermione was not jealous!

Amidst that thought, she shrugged. “I wanted to be impulsive for once.”

“And since when did you decide to be one?” Ginny crossed her arms.

“Since Lucas decided to get engaged without me.”

Ginny and Luna gasped together, leaning forward. Hermione wondered whether girls really did that, or it was just the two of them.

“When?”

“Did I found out? Or the engagement?”

“Both!”

“He came in yesterday, with her.” Hermione's voice quivered. “They've been engaged for a week.”

“Who's her?”

“I really don't know. He said her name was Victoria, but that was all I got from him.”

“Why?”

“I knocked him off his feet.” Hermione said. “And I don't mean with my looks.”

“Since when did he start cheating on you?” Ginny asked.

“I---I never asked.” She replied. “But I didn't need to. I know he's been at it for quite some time. I just never thought he would really decide to break up with me.”

“You knew he was cheating, but you didn't say anything?” Ginny's voice sounded concerned, but there was still an edge of annoyance in there.

“I just thought that he wouldn't still be with me if he didn't at least care.”

“And you think his cheating had something to do with you not being exciting?” Ginny asked.

“That has always been the case with me, Ginny.” Hermione said. “I need to try something new to make sure whether it's really the one causing me all these trouble.”

“So, daring you would be the first big step.” Luna chirped in.

“I thought it would.” She grumbled. “But now that I think about it, it's not really a good idea.”

“Oh no, you don't!” Ginny said, her eyes turning wicked. “You can't take back what you said!”

“Forget it. I've changed my mind. I'm perfectly fine the way I am.” Hermione said, although there was a catch in her voice that clearly said she really wasn't.

Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for her friends, they heard it.

“I'm sorry, `Mione, but I've decided,” then she stopped at the look Luna pointedly gave, “we've decided to do something about your problem.”

Hermione sighed. The determined look on the faces of her two friends made her regret the way she had opened her mouth. It had not been supposed to be like this.

How could she have spoken something so lame-brained?

She may have been a heartbroken drunk, but really…a dare?

What had she been thinking?

Now that there was no hope of turning back with Luna and Ginny looking at her with those expressions on their faces, she leaned back. “What do you have in mind?”

Luna looked around the throngs of people milling about; there was a gleam in her eyes that clearly said she was in for it. Ginny did her own perusal, tip-tapping her fingertips on the table. There were a lot of people that night, but no one seemed to be unoccupied with their own business.

Hermione bit her lip. She was getting nervous, every second counted for their plan getting naughtier. She almost told herself to get up and get the hell out of the club. Nothing good would come out of whatever it was Luna and Ginny would be asking her to do. She knew that by heart

But isn't this what she needed?

What she wanted?

And hey, it was a dare!

But they would definitely go easy on her…it was her first time to do something like this anyway.

“I got it.” Luna said, her voice was full of enthusiasm, Hermione didn't know whether to fear it or be calm because of it.

Hermione and Ginny turned to look at her.

“See that guy over there?” She said, pointing towards the bar.

”Where?” Ginny asked, voicing the question that Hermione herself wanted to ask, when all they could see was a long line of people by the bar, waiting for their turn to be served.

“The one sitting alone.”

She spotted him in a heartbeat, her stomach doing a little flip when she saw how attractive he was, even if what she could see was only his profile. “You mean that guy with the black hair?” Hermione asked.

Before Luna could respond, Ginny whistled slowly. “Nice eye, Luna. You know, I never really understood how you ended up with Ron, you clearly have taste.”

Luna just laughed at this. They all knew that Luna was head over heels in love with her husband, whom she met when they were still in school. Although, no one really knew how they ended up together. And no one bothered to ask.

“What about him?” Hermione asked, wanting the dare to be done and over with.

“Go to him and introduce yourself.”

“That's all?” Hermione was surprised that Luna had come up with such a simple thing. She stood up to do exactly what she said, when a hand forestalled her.

She turned around and met Luna's gleaming eyes. Ginny was seating there, serenely, almost as if she knew what was going on inside her sister-in-law's head.

“What?”

“I'm not finished.”

“You're not?” Hermione wondered.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse, could it?

“Introduce yourself…”

“I gathered as much.” Hermione muttered, still waiting, looking at the man she was about to meet.

He turned around, as if noticing someone's scrutiny, but didn't look in her direction. But it was enough for her to feel her stomach whirl. He looked quite unreachable.

Could she actually do this?

She was never used to initiating conversations with men.

Heck! She wasn't even used to men coming up to her.

Usually, her boyfriends were former friends of hers whom she'd been much comfortable to be around with.

So, basically, she had no instinct whatsoever with introductions.

What was she supposed to say?

How was she supposed to look?

Would he like it if she introduced herself directly, or say something flattering first?

God!

“I don't think I can do this.” Hermione muttered.

“Now, wait just yet, you're not going to back out. We're not going to allow you.” Ginny said.

And she was actually serious enough to knock some sense into Hermione.

Besides, what was the point of backing out and going back to her usual ways? At that point, Hermione made the decision. She took a deep breath and just nodded once, to say that she was still in.

“Introduce yourself.” Luna smiled at her.

“You already told me that.” Hermione said, impatiently. “What's the other one?”

Luna and Ginny exchanged looks before Ginny motioned towards the guy man, who was busily drinking his own whiskey.

“You have to kiss him.”

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A/N:

I did this a month ago, I think, when the idea came up to me. It's still raw, without my usual made up plot. I just wanted to see what the reactions would be. If they're good, I'm going to think of the entire plot so I could make the next chapters. If they're not, I'll just erase it. Final examinations would be next week, so I'll probably have another chapter up for my other story “Caught in the Past” by then. So sorry for the delay. I'm just stressed. Ciao!

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A/N:

I'm so sorry that I hadn't been able to update for so long. I just had a spurt of inspiration a while ago, so I decided to post another chapter.

Caught in the Past (my other story) is giving me a hard time, I hope you don't mind. In case you have no idea, whatsoever, I changed the recent chapter of Caught in the Past that I last posted. It's new, although the beginning is no different. What I changed was the latter part…please read it if you haven't because Hermione's life story has been changed. If you're following that story, check it out. If you haven't read it, I do recommend reading. It already has 15 chapters. Thank you.

As for this one, I hope you enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------

“What?!”

“You have to kiss him.”

“On the cheek, right?” Hermione nervously clarified.

She watched in disdain as Ginny deliberately shook her head slowly. She raised her fingers, and without another word, laid it on her lips.

Hermione couldn't help but gasp as she looked at her friends' dead serious faces.

Were they drunk more than she?!

Coming up and talking to a stranger were more than what she was used to and now she was supposed to just kiss him?

No…

They were not drunk…

They were insane!

Did they really believe she would agree?

She may be heartbroken…

She may be serious…

But she was not desperate…

And what was that supposed to prove anyway?

That she could kiss someone?

It was hardly any different from running around the pub naked. Actually, she would have had no reservations stripping for the entire population of Hogsmeade, was it the one asked from her.

On the other hand, kissing someone whom she didn't even know would give her nothing but trouble.

Yes, she wanted to do something that would prove she wasn't a coward, but she didn't want to do something that would make her a coward for the rest of her life, hiding from someone whom she would be offending.

For all she knew, the man could be a masked murderer and kissing him would make her his next victim!

“No,” Hermione shook her head adamantly, her eyes wide with shock.

Ginny merely raised her brow in challenge. Luna sighed.

“Why not?”

“It's unethical!”

“It's a dare,” Ginny said matter-of-factly, “Dares are not supposed to be ethical.”

“Excuse me for being so prudish, but don't you think this is going a bit overboard?”

“Not really,” Luna shrugged.

“It's the perfect thing to do!” Ginny chirped taking a sip of her butterbeer.

“I don't recall asking you to make me a slut,” Hermione crossed her arms.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Kissing somebody doesn't make you a slut,” and then her eyes twinkled suggestively, “Or would you rather sleep with him instead?”

“Ginevra Weasely!” Hermione cried out in indignation, her hand flying to her chest, “If you do not stop these thoughts I'm going to tell Molly!”

“What am I? Eight?” Ginny scoffed, splaying her hands in front of her. Tapping her fingernails on the table top, she leaned forward, “Oh, come on, Mione, kissing is quite simple. It doesn't have to go far. You can just plant a small one on his lips. Just a smack. You don't have to taste him if you don't want to.”

Hermione could only sit and gape at how lurid Ginny's thoughts were as she continued to rant on how she could go about their dare.

As if she would…

Really…

Who in their right mind would actually do something that was as childish and reckless as the one they were trying to make her do?

It took more than the average guts to be able to stomach kissing somebody who could be sick or something!

She may be in that foxed state wherein causing a barroom fight was most probable, but she was certainly not drunk enough to agree to just swap saliva with some innocent, but pathetic, bloke, who was unfortunate enough to have been the target of her apathetic friends.

Shaking her head, Hermione finally made up her mind.

She would not do anything. She may have been the one to ask them to make that dare, but she definitely had the right to have a say in the matter, if things got out of hand.

As long as she didn't budge from her seat, she would be perfectly safe…

And then what?

After this night, what would become of her?

She would still be plain Hermione Granger.

Unexciting…

Unwilling to do anything that could give her life a bit of animation.

She had lived trying to be the person people wanted in their lives. Now that she had achieved it, she no longer found it satisfying. She may be accepted because of who she was, but it still went without saying that a little bit of change did not hurt anybody.

But was she ready to take that step?

Wasn't it just a tad too much?

Surely, they could see the basis in that…

“Give me one good reason that I should accept,” she leaned forward.

Ginny flexed her fingers, and lifted one to show Hermione. “You need this.”

“Of all the challenges you could have given me, why this?” Hermione whispered savagely, letting her voice drop to an audible whisper, scared that somebody might hear their conversation and think the worst of her, or her friends.

Devious or not, she didn't want anybody to think that they were naughty lunatics.

Even though they really were…

Luna and Ginny looked at each other before turning to her. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately, Hermione thought as she eyed them suspiciously.

“It's something you can't do.”

Hermione frowned.

Their answer was simple enough, but it hit the right spot in her heart.

They knew she wouldn't do it. It was not enough to dare her with something that she would have the courage to accomplish. They had given her a dare that would really test her willingness to change. Something that she wouldn't have done in a million years.

Bitterly, she admitted, they were right.

But still, it was unfair for the man they had chosen, she thought as she stole a glance at the bar where their “victim” was currently seated, still sipping his drink slowly as if he had no care in the world. He was leaning towards the bar table, his shoulders hunched. His jet-black hair was less than immaculate, shining on his head when the disco lights hit it.

And then he turned…

And Hermione momentarily lost her ability to speak…

To think…

To hear…

All her sense went numb…

But never her sight…

Not for one moment did it even falter…

Oh no…

Her eyes were working just perfectly well…

And what a feast it was taking!

Hermione had seen his profile earlier, and she had reasonably concluded that he was not hard to look at. Now that she had a good view of him, she could no longer say that she had been sensible in making a hasty assumption. She was, technically, partially right. But she had also been wrong…

And this was one mistake she was not afraid of admitting.

The man that she was to kiss was…to put it simply….striking.

He was not the traditional good-looking men one saw when perusing over a magazine. He was not with model-looks. But rather, he was a man of power. He exuded such masculinity that Hermione wondered whether half the female population in the room was also making bets as to who could snag him at the end of the night.

And just like every other female who had seen him for the first time, Hermione's gaze dropped onto his feet and slowly made its way up.

His feet were enclosed in dark leather shoes, and his long legs, bent as he was seated, were encased in dark slim slacks. It tapered up to narrow hips and a lean waist, which led to a well-built chest, emphasized by a silk, conforming shirt. From his chest stretched broad shoulders that she was sure caught more than enough attention not only from her.

If she even dared to look around, she would see that she was right into assuming that half of the women in the room were hormonally insane at the moment. She herself couldn't help but notice the muscles rippling all over his body with each movement he made.

Hermione let her gaze travel to his face, the face that she had seen earlier which had caused her to be in such a daze.

Even from afar, she could see the way it was chiseled at the right angles. It was not sharp. Rather, it was contoured smoothly and perfectly, as if his sculptor had taken time evening it out, hoping to get that perfection.

His nose was aristocratic, straight, but not pointed. It was crooked, but not so much to make her lose interest.

His eyes…

His eyes were different.

She couldn't see the color, but she saw their depth.

And as lame as it was, she felt that she could drown in them forever --- cliches were forgiven for a woman who seemed to have no other words to describe what she was seeing and feeling.

Besides, how was she supposed to find words when she couldn't even think clearly!

Rationally enough, there was something about the way he held himself, even seated, that pulled at her. It was more than good looks, she knew even though they made her very appreciative.

It was that he looked quite alone.

She didn't miss the fact that he was actually alone. But she knew there were those who looked happy even without a companion.

Maybe the right word for him was “lonely”.

That's right…

Lonely…

Odd.

Odd that she felt a strong kinship because of this…

And a desire to make him feel better…

Maybe if she just agreed, she could find out what it was that irked her about him. Or if she was right that he was more than just alone, she could offer him company.

Hermione blinked, catching herself before she could continue thinking about it.

No.

She shook her head numerous times. She shouldn't even be considering such a thing! For all she knew, he could have a girlfriend at home, waiting for him, and kissing him would only bring him trouble, not to mention cause anger for her.

He was handsome.

That was just that.

And what she was feeling was simply a physical attraction that would soon fade the moment she went home, let the night pass and prepare for a great deal of hangover tomorrow.

She didn't need any more complication in her life.

“I don't think I can do it,” Hermione said.

Luna let out a breath and Ginny huffed in disbelief.

“You were practically devouring him with your eyes, Hermione!” she exclaimed, causing several people to look curiously in their direction.

Hermione turned a bit red even as her eyes narrowed at Ginny. “He's attractive, that's all I I'm going to admit. But I'm not going over there to kiss him. It's not right. He's an innocent bystander, and he doesn't deserve to be played at.”

“But you said you wanted to be spontaneous,” Luna reminded her.

“Yes, but I don't want others to be involved,” Hermione looked at her friend with pleading eyes.

Ginny caught Luna's arm before she could speak. “Don't give in, Luna, she's luring you into her trap.”

When Hermione shot her a scornful look, Ginny just waved her expression away. “She said she wanted to get over being serious, and I'm taking my role as her friend the way she usually deals with things: seriously.”

Hermione crossed her arms and leaned back. “You may say all the things you want to say, but you can't make me.”

“You're right,” Ginny nodded, eyeing her with a challenge, “Let Lucas have his laugh. Let everyone who knows about him and his fiance think that you were not enough for him. In fact, wouldn't it be nice if all your former lovers got together and talk about you?”

“That's a bit harsh, don't you think?” Hermione asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but Ginny's words pricked at her. If she really knew Lucas, he was, as of this moment, recalling the way he had dumped her right in her office, and grinning triumphantly as to how he had made himself look good in the process.

“Think of it this way,” Luna murmured, interrupting her thoughts, “You don't have to look as if you meant to kiss him.”

Hermione blinked her eyes in confusion. “How?”

“I don't know. Figure it out.”

“Or you could run as fast as you can after you surprise him,” Ginny winked, “That always works. And it's easier.”

Hermione looked at one best friend to another and felt her insides give in. She knew that there was no rational explanation or excuse for this insane idea. Some would even go far as calling it pointless. But insanity, even for just a brief moment, felt like a good idea for someone who had lost a great deal because of being sane. Maybe, it was not a strange thing to desire for abnormality.

“This is crazy,” Hermione muttered. She bit her lip as she reached up to tuck the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face. She eyed her friends, “Do I look all right?”

As she said this, Luna and Ginny both straightened with looks of delight on their faces. They nodded enthusiastically and ushered Hermione out of her seat. She was glad that in the dim light, they weren't making public spectacles of themselves as they murmured excitedly at her, giving her some words of encouragement.

Hermione took a deep breath as she turned around and made her way towards the man who had turned his back towards the crowd again and was facing the bar. As she walked towards him, she straightened her clothes and thought of what would be her icebreaker.

There was an empty stool right beside him, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder whether fate had really installed it there, or it was just mere coincidence.

She didn't bother to find out the answer as she slid onto the stool non-too-demurely, her nerves getting in the way.

Up close, he looked even better.

She kept telling herself that what she was doing was not as audacious as a one-night stand. But the thought didn't settle her. And now that she was actually right beside him, merely inches away, she felt nauseous.

There was still time to back out, she told herself, but a lifetime of regret was not worth the chance.

“Go ahead.”

Hermione's head jerked towards the man who had spoken so suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“Do whatever you want and then leave me alone.”

Hermione blinked at the words that were thrown at her. They may have been strangers, but even strangers deserved respect!

And he didn't even bother to look at her!

Bastard.

“Excuse me?” she croaked.

This time, the man cast her a glance…a second, that was all it took, before he turned his attention back somewhere else.

“You're not being very clever, are you?” he murmured, his deep voice, which would have normally soothed her, sent her temper to a boiling point, “But then again, you're one of them.”

“Them?” Hermione repeated, unable to believe what she was hearing.

How could he talk to her like that when she hadn't even said a word?

And then an idea came to her.

He must know about the dare, and was furious that he was the one they chose to be the victim.

But how did he find out?”

Curse the staff for turning the music's volume down!

But Ginny and Luna had not been very discreet about it anyway, she surmised.

Neither had she.

“I'm sorry,” she offered tentatively.

He smirked, the expression causing Hermione to feel the need to hit him with something. “Just the way it is.”

What was his problem?

And why was he talking as if he was bored?

Was he so conceited that he believed himself to be some sort of meat for the ladies that every time he stepped into a bar, there will always be those who would come up to him and make him feel really good about himself?

“What's your name?” he asked, still not bothering to look at her, which is another thing that made Hermione want to wring his neck.

“Why are you asking?”

“It would be difficult for me to come up with something if you don't give me one,” he said, “Or would you rather pretend you were someone else? Ashamed that you actually like me?”

Like him?

She was beginning to suffocate from him!

If only Ginny and Luna had dared her to kill somebody, she wouldn't even think twice about choosing the victim!

There was something quite wrong with this man, and she would do better to be a coward than to suffer in his presence.

“What's there to like?” she said suddenly, surprising even herself.

The man brought his glass above his head and inspected the contents from under. Then, he shrugged. “A lot.”

“That's funny,” Hermione snorted, forgetting herself, “I didn't even think you could make jokes.”

“Funny, I didn't even know you could take one,” he retorted as he sipped his own brandy.

And there goes another nerve!

How much had he heard?

If somebody had not beaten the hell out of this guy, she gladly would.

Was it possible that she could feel so much annoyance over him in just a span of a minute?

Probably not…

But then, she hadn't considered that he could be infuriating.

Clearly, God wanted to have a good laugh by creating something perfect, and then destroying it by letting it have a mouth as big as the size of his head.

“You're wasting my time,” he drawled out, the words were not forceful, she noted. He sounded as if he was reminding her of something.

“Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?”

“I'm not the one imposing on someone else's privacy.”

“I didn't even speak before you talked to me!”

“You would have done it first,” he shrugged as he playfully twirled his drink, “I just saved you from the awkwardness,”

“And what made you think I came up here to talk to you?” Hermione faced him, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Honey, there's nothing else you would want here,” he tossed her a look and lifted his brow.

Hermione tried to calm herself as she thought that he would be doing her a favor, releasing her from being a captive of her own fears and insecurities. But could it be considered spontaneity if the man knew what she was up to and had even gone as far as consented to be a willing participant?

At the corner of her eye, Hermione was dimly aware that the music had gone up again and that many people were already on the dance floor. There was some commotion just by the entrance, but she didn't bother to consider what it was. The distraction it was causing was an advantage for her. If she wanted to get away with no more than just self-humiliation, she must get the dare done and over with when everybody else was busy with their own affairs.

The man she was with still had not moved from his position.

Hermione bit her lip at another difficulty. How would she manage to plant a chaste kiss on him when she wouldn't even be able to graze his face with her breath at the position he was in. If she leaned towards him, he may turn away.

She needed to catch him by surprise even if he knew about the dare. At least that way, she would be considered spontaneous.

Behind her, the commotion was getting louder, and the room was growing slightly brighter by the minute. Hermione refused to think as she slid off the booth and stepped closer to him, whose name she didn't and would never intend to find out.

He seemed oblivious to what she was doing as he watched her with that same bored look he had given her the moment she sat down.

Good, she thought, this would be easier.

“Leaving already?” His voice was hard, but there was a smile playing across his lips.

His grin was quite different from the smug looks he had given her earlier, and Hermione didn't even pause to think about what the sight made her feel. All that mattered to her was that she got to be the artless person she had never been for so long.

She closed her eyes, leaned forward abruptly and thought no more as she felt her lips softly meet his.

If Hermione believed that the first kiss could tell everything that could go in a relationship, she would have said that her relationship with this man would definitely be a smooth sail.

She used to think that kissing a stranger, even long time friends, would be repulsive, but there was nothing sordid about kissing this particular stranger, she decided, as the lips that were frozen against hers began to respond with growing enthusiasm.

In fact, it was kind of…thrilling.

She tasted his surprise and his reluctance the moment she claimed the distance between their lips, and she also felt his unwanted pleasure. He already had a hand grazing her cheek when a blinding flash made him snatch it back.

Before Hermione could open her eyes, the man had her by the wrist, and was pulling her towards the back door of the pub.

Thinking that he might have been so angered by her intrusion that he was taking her away to punish her, she looked back to catch the attention of her friends, who were no doubt, watching the episode with amused gazes.

But all she saw were a few men with cameras and women with notepads, flocking and clawing at one another to surpass the other.

Hermione would have asked what was happening, had it not been for the fact that she had managed to conclude, between the pulling and the chasing, that they were being followed and this was no ordinary man she was with.

She heard them calling, but the sound was droned out when the doors to the pub closed behind them with a loud bang.

They were now amidst the muggles, Hermione realized, as she saw the London Streets ablaze with light, people still walking around despite the wee hours of the evening.

On the side, a ford was solely stretched out luxuriously.

For some unknown reason, Hermione was not surprised when the man started walking towards it. She even had the chance to admire the vehicle as he fished inside his pockets for the keys and opened the passenger side.

There was barely enough time to think, however, about the consequences of being with a stranger in a car before he shoved her hard inside. She considered running away as he went around to get inside himself, but thought better of it.

In movies that she had watched, women who were in the same situation only tired themselves out by trying to escape. If he were to do violence to her, at least she would have the strength to fight.

At the exact moment he closed his door, the one from the Leaky Cauldron burst open and out came the people who had been following them.

But merely a few seconds later, they became tiny dots at the end of the road as the engine roared to life and he drove them away.

For minutes, they took several turns around corners in silence.

But if thoughts could be heard, they would probably be deaf by now.

Hermione was vaguely aware that she wasn't with a normal person. But still, she was not satisfied. There were so many reasons concerning her right that moment that she didn't notice they had stopped at the top of some sort of hill.

Around them, it was very dark. And if it hadn't been for the car's headlights, she would have sworn they were floating into oblivion. The trees weren't helping either as they cast an eerie feeling that they were surrounded. The only other lights visible were those of the street below, flashing and blinking.

Hermione shivered.

Was he planning to ravage her here?

She frowned.

In any other circumstance, it would have been romantic.

But not now.

When he shut off the engine and got out, slamming the door behind him forcefully, Hermione felt insulted, forgetting that she had been nervous a minute before.

Why wouldn't she be angry?

There she was, having been dragged across half the city without so much as an explanation, and he was the one having a tantrum?

Fuming, she unlocked her door and got out, stomping to where he was standing, his arms on his waist.

She stopped right beside him and gazed up to look at his face at the exact same moment he turned to stare down at her.

Oddly enough, they spoke at the same time.

“Who the hell are you?!”

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A/N:

I hope you liked it. It took me 2 hours and 30 minutes to come up with the chapter. And it has not been edited as of yet. Please bear with the mistakes, and tell me what you think. It has been a while since I updated for this story, so it's quite raw.

Please review…thanks!

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A/N:

Hey, guys! I'm back! I'm so sorry for staying silent for so long. And even though I have so much to do right now, I really think it was time to put something up. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

By the way, I was also inspired. I recently watched Enchanted. And I do recommend seeing the movie. It's truly magical! Amy Adams really showed here how brilliant an actress she was, and a marvelous singer as well!

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“Who the hell are you?”

The man glared at Hermione as she continued to stare defiantly. Her outburst must have shocked him because he just couldn't stop looking with his mouth opening and closing, as if he had formulated some words, but just could not get them out.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” he finally said.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

He crossed his arms across his chest, those broad shoulders of his stiff as a board. “Do you actually expect me to believe you don't know me?”

Hermione had the gall to laugh when she heard the incredulity in his voice, even when he meant to sound nonchalant. “I gathered you were famous, I should have expected you to be arrogant.”

Despite the dim light, Hermione swore she saw the muscle in his jaw tick. “Arrogant, just because I expected you to know me?”

“Not everybody you meet will fall on your feet.”

He nodded mockingly and inclined his head. “So what the bloody hell was that kiss all about?”

It was Hermione's turn to look stupid. “Just that.”

“Come of it, lady, I will never take you for someone who kisses every stranger she meets.”

Hermione placed her hand on her hips. “I don't.”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?”

“That's none of your business,” she muttered, copying his stance, “You don't know me.”

“You kissed me when you had no idea who I am. Now you're telling me that you don't know me enough to explain why.”

“Don't you dare be condescending!”

“And don't you dare play innocent!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

“I'm not!” Hermione shouted back.

“Then explain to me why you thought that you could just kiss somebody you don't know and then expect him not to say anything about it.”

“I didn't say I expected you not to say anything.”

“But you didn't think I would have something to say either,” he countered, “That's the reason you find it hard to explain it to me now.”

“It's complicated.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Contrary to what you think, miss, I'm quite bright.”

“I didn't say you were stupid.”

“But you said it was complicated, I believe you assume again that I couldn't think for myself.”

“I never said anything about you not having the brains to do anything!”

“But you keep on implying it every time that beautiful mouth of yours opens.” Then he had the nerve to drop his gaze on her lips.

Hermione stopped short. “Don't charm me. I'm through your kind.”

“My kind?” he repeated, “So, you've already stereotyped me? And here you are, making me believe that you don't know a damn thing about me. Lady, you're a lousy liar.”

“I'm not lying.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I honestly don't have an idea who you are.”

He kept silent for a moment as he considered what she said. His silence meant he was considering something, but it was clear that his anger over the intrusion had not been abated. If more, it even grew.

Hermione bit her lip as she stared at him. Should she tell him? Of course she should, she owed him an explanation. She had been the one to interrupt what would have been a quiet evening for him.

But she hesitated.

The reason for that kiss was lame; at least, it would be to him.

He seemed to be more of the rational type -one who didn't believe in fate or silly little things such as inspirations.

He might see that dare as a petty excuse for being bitter about her break up. Something that really wouldn't help her at all.

But for her, it was more than that.

That kiss was important.

But how did one go about trying to make a complete stranger see how he had become a hero for someone who needed to prove she could be somebody it was time she should be?

It was because of him that she seemed to have been released from a lifelong imprisonment.

She was like a butterfly that had escaped from her caterpillar cocoon.

Hermione grimaced.

Now that she had heard it in her mind, it didn't seem like a good idea.

Butterflies, indeed.

She saw him lift a brow as he waited for further explanation.

It must be frustrating for him to just wait while she bit her lip, trying to come up with an answer worthy of his belief. He was quite patient, she had to give him that. But would he be patient enough to hear her out after she began explaining? Somehow, she wasn't so sure now what she could say to pacify what seemed to be the growing anger in him.

“I'm sorry,” she offered tentatively as a starter and found out soon enough that she expected the exact thing from him.

“Sorry?” he spat, “What the hell am I supposed to do with your sorry?”

Hermione huffed out a breath, all the rational thoughts of understanding his anger rushing out of her. “Accept it, for a start.”

“I don't need your sorry,” he said, “You don't even look sorry.”

“That's because you're making it very hard for me to be!”

“Well, I'm sorry!” he shouted, terrifying Hermione a bit, “It's just that, when women come to me, kiss me, and then tell me they don't know who the bloody hell I am, I find it hard to understand anything!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Start by explaining.”

“I…”

He looked at her expectantly.

And then his cell phone rang.

Still glaring at her, he took it out of his pocket and flipped it open. “What?” he answered impatiently.

Hermione fiddled with her fingers as she heard the buzzing sound of an angry voice at the other end of the line. The increasing frown on this man's forehead indicated the call had not improved his mood.

She could hear his muffled sound as he spoke to the other person. His face was strained, and his Adam's apple was constantly bobbing up and down. He kept swallowing as if he was trying to get rid of a lump in his throat.

And suddenly, he was that vulnerable man again. That side of him she had seen from across the room in that pub. He had the same expression that had lured her over, and made her kiss him.

Maybe he wasn't as frightening as she made herself to believe if he could look so naïve. Perhaps he was just like her, only he was more expressive.

Hermione didn't want to add to his worries, and she was sure that he had many. She told herself that he would understand and might even find it quite stupid and funny.

Really, there was no use trying to get out of the reason she kissed him. He would find out soon enough with a little more prodding anyway. And he was certainly going to be angrier. No matter, she deserved it. What else could he do about it? It wasn't as if he would lose anything because of that.

Hermione heard him mutter a harsh `bye' to the person he was talking to, and the defeated voice he had warned her not to say anything more about what happened tonight.

But she couldn't seem to stop herself as she watched him close his phone and heard his low groan.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. “It was a dare.”

He looked up, his eyes unclear; as if he was surprised she was there. “What?”

“The kiss,” she shrugged, “It was a dare.”

She waited for him to speak, but he didn't. But the muscle in his jaw began to throb like hell, and she could feel his tension even from afar. Whatever made her think that he would find the dare hilarious vanished as he moved toward her, their distance lethally close.

He leaned over, his breath fanning her face. “Do you have any idea what you've done?!”

His words were spoken so softly, the icy edge they possessed pricked her very senses. In fear for what he could do, Hermione could only shake her head once and gaze with fearful eyes at his scorching ones.

“You've given me more trouble, that's what!”

He shoved her away, looked at her with contempt, and headed back to the car.

Before Hermione could think of what to do or what to make out of his anger, he had already gotten inside his vehicle and had started the engine. There was no time to even say a word to him before he backed out of his space, and drove off, leaving her all alone, with nothing but an empty feeling that she had failed yet again.

She couldn't think that anything could get any worse than feeling sorry for herself and being stranded in a deserted area…

And then, it started to rain.

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Harry Potter couldn't help but smash his hand against the stirring wheel as visions of that brown-eyed beauty he left behind kept flashing right before his very eyes.

He hadn't meant to leave her; it was just that, finding out the reason for her stunt back in the pub had driven him over the edge. He would have accepted other reasons, reasons that he wasn't sure of right now, but a dare?

Really, what was the point in that?

And for what cause?

Didn't she think it would affect him…?

Granted, that she didn't know who he was, but still…

His cell phone rang again.

He fumbled for the speaker as he anticipated with great reluctance the never-ending sermon he would be receiving in the next minutes of this conversation. His agent's fits were rare, but when they happen, you would wish you had never been born.

“What?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

He relaxed as he recognized the voice at the other end of the line. “I still got it.”

Silence. And then, “Then what the hell did you think you were doing kissing somebody after…after…”

“How did you know about that?”

“Warren told me.”

Harry winced. “It's not a big deal.”

“Anything that comes from your agent's mouth is a big deal.”

“Did he tell you how he found out?”

“Yeah. Some local girl explained it to him when he asked around where you were.”

“Great. How did Warren know we're friends?”

“Seriously, Harry, do you think something like your background would escape your agent? Agents are supposed to be meddling creatures.”

“Now that makes me wonder what else he knows.”

“The question is, what does he not know?” Then he laughed, “When did you arrive?”

“Last night.”

“Have you contacted anyone yet?”

“Nobody knows I'm here. I was surprised to find out I've already been discovered after just a day.”

“That's what happens when you do what you did. How long are you in town for anyway?”

Harry was stopped short from answering when he heard the rumble of thunder. Then he thought about her. Damn.

“I don't know,” he muttered, “The game's in a couple of days.”

“You're going to have some serious explaining to do.”

“I know,” he winced uncomfortably as another flash of lightning came and the rain started to pour down hard.

“Seriously, kissing a girl in public.”

Harry felt the first tugs of guilt in his gut as he thought about her being alone. Despite the fact that she caused him more trouble than he wanted, he still didn't need to be cruel and let her get back to the city alone, and under the rain.

“Have you told your wife yet?”

“No,” he chuckled, “She'll be thrilled to see you again, though. She's been asking me who I'd been meeting for the past few months. It's a relief, really, that she trusts me, or I'd be forced to get you out of hiding to prove I'm not adulterous.”

Harry forced himself to laugh. “Everybody knows you've been pining for her ever since we were still in Hogwarts. You sure she doesn't suspect me?”

“Yeah, well, after you left, I pretty much made her believe I had no care where you were. You specifically told me to make it convincing. I guess I could pass more as a rejected friend than a concerned one.”

“You did great.” Another thunder hit the sky, and rain poured continuously on the pavement. And then he made up his mind. “Listen, I have to go.”

“Uh-huh,” his friend muttered, “That lady friend of yours must be waiting for you.”

Harry groaned as he stirred his car around and drove back, all the way up to the hill. “She's not my lady friend; she's not even anything to me,” he said as he fought to clear the vision in front of him; the front shield of his car was fogged up because of the rain. “I'll explain it to you when I see you.”

“When would that be?”

Harry tried to think and had to look back when he thought he saw a form of a person. He cursed as he recognized the woman he met. Feeling quite irritated that she was a martyr in her own right to just walk back to the city; he stopped and put his gear into reverse.

“I have to go,” he said with finality, “Tell Luna I said hi.”

Ron sighed. “Will do.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Hermione saw the car go past her.

She had seen it when it was making its way up the hill quite dangerously. She would have stopped the car for a lift home, but decided not to when she recognized who owned the vehicle. It was raining hard, and she knew that she would get sick at the end of the night, but no amount of weakness would make her lower her pride and ask if he could take her home.

She heard him come back, but she didn't stop, even for a second, to look where he would be going. She heard him shouting at her through the noisy claps of thunder and drops of rain. But she didn't stop.

Finally, the roar of the engine stopped. The next thing she knew, he was beside her, a hand on her arm.

“What do you want?” was the first thing that came from her mouth.

“It's raining,” he snarled, “You didn't expect me to let you under the rain, did you?”

She glared at him, surprising him with how beautiful she looked, even with that unwelcome expression on her face. “Yes, well, I didn't expect you to leave me alone either! But you did!”

“Can we talk about this when we're inside my car?”

He rolled his eyes when she hesitated.

“Look, we both know at the end of this conversation you'd be agreeing with me, so I suggest that you follow me now before we end up with a disease.”

Hermione shoved his hands away and threw him a disgusted look before marching all the way to his car and getting inside, banging his door with her might. Cursing himself for even thinking of rescuing her, he followed her. When he was already seated in the driver's seat, he shook away the water from his head, not that it did any good to his already wet head.

He took of his jacket, glad that his shirt wasn't as soaked as the rest of his clothes and fired the engine to life. Beside him, he heard her shivering and he sighed. “I can't do anything about you, sorry. I don't have any extra clothes with me.”

“I'm fine,” she muttered through chattering teeth.

“Whatever you say, lady.”

This seemed to have ticked her off because she abruptly turned to face him. “Would you quit saying `lady'? I have a name you know.”

“I know,” he replied nonchalantly, turning back to right themselves on the road, “I just don't have an idea what it is. I'm sure you'll forgive me for that, seeing that you don't know me either.”

“My name is Hermione.”

“I didn't ask.”

He could feel her murderous gaze at him, but she didn't say anything. He took a deep breath as he felt her judge him as a boorish person.

“The name's Harry.”

For the first time in an hour, Hermione turned to look at him with the strangest of expressions. “Why did you…”

“Help?” he chuckled knowingly, “I'm not so terrible, you know.”

She nodded. “I know.”

It was Harry's turn to look pensive. “How?”

“You haven't killed me yet.”

He gripped the stirring wheel tighter as he was reminded of the reason that they were in this situation. “Believe me, I am close to.”

If the statement was meant to alarm her, Hermione didn't take the bait. “I really am sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am, I'm sure,” he muttered as he took a right turn.

Hermione frowned at the direction they were going. They weren't taking the same direction they had earlier. This one's different, and the path ahead was dark. She started to feel that she was ready to believe he might do some violence with her. “Where are you taking me?”

He was silent for a while before she saw the corner of his lips lift into a smile. “To my house, that's where.”

Hermione's heart dislodged itself off its place and seemed to have become stuck in her throat. “You can just drop me to the nearest station,” she muttered, looking back, longing for a glimpse of another vehicle along the road. But to her great dismay, there was none. Her apprehension grew greater.

Harry must have sensed her discomfort because he laughed despite his foul mood. “Relax, will you?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How can I relax?” she burst out, “You're giving me thoughts.”

Harry stole a glance at her and cleared his throat. “You're not thinking what I'm really thinking. Because if you're really thinking what I'm thinking, you'd not stick around for another minute.”

Hermione settled a bit into her chair after she heard this, not having any idea why. But she was still confused. “Why are we going to your house?”

“You're soaked,” he shrugged as he changed gears, “You need clothes.”

“You can just drive me to my house,” she offered, but was somehow hoping that he would not consider the idea.

“Yes, I can, but the press would still be lurking around to catch a glimpse of me or my car,” he explained, “I'd rather avoid them.”

“If you're as famous as you think you are, wouldn't they know where you live?” Hermione asked.

“I just got back to town, nobody knows where I'm staying.”

“You seem to have an answer for everything.”

He chuckled. “That's only because you have a question for everything.”

Hermione settled down, quite comfortable and quite exhilarated.

Harry seemed to be a pleasant company when he was not raging at her. But she didn't allow herself to completely let go of the feeling that she was still in danger. He was, after all, a stranger. And no matter how much his fame should reassure her, she still needed to be careful.

And she still needed to know what he was famous for.

She hugged herself to keep the chills in her body from emerging. The rain had really given her a shower, she was sure to fall ill some time later. She hoped that by that time, she was already at home. The last thing this guy needed or wanted was to take care of his intruder for the rest of the night.

“We're nearly there,” he said quietly.

He must have noticed her attempt to warm herself, Hermione thought. She nodded without saying a word.

They reached his house, which wasn't bigger than the one she owned, granted that the bottom part of it was a bookstore, and the upper one was her room. It was quite eerie to look at, during the night, but Hermione guessed there was really nothing to see even during the day. The setting did not really surprise her. Harry didn't seem to be the type to settle in one place over a long period of time. Perhaps he just bought the house for a place to live in while he stayed in London.

He parked close to the steps of the front door and Hermione got out of the car just as he closed his own side of the door. They ran up the steps to avoid further rain, as if it would have done some good, and Harry fumbled for his keys.

The interlude gave Hermione the chance to appreciate his profile even closer. A little while ago, in the pub, he looked quite smashing in his imperturbable clothes and expression. Now that he was soaking wet and tension was clearly emanating from him, he looked even more dangerous, in a good sort of way.

Harry must have felt her scrutiny because he stopped to look at her with a curious expression before shoving the key in the hole and turning it open.

They came upon a darkly lit living room and when Harry flipped open the lights, Hermione was surprised that everything, from the furniture up to the walls, was clean.

“Thought I was sloppy, did you?” Harry's voice interrupted her dumbfounded state. It was as if had heard her and read the expression on her face. He sighed with humor, “Am I proving myself to be more than you thought I was?”

Hermione shrugged, “It's all right to be proven wrong sometimes.”

She wandered around for a bit as he vanished to retrieve some clothes. She walked across the room as she noticed photographs on the shelf. There were few of them, but most showed him off with a girl in his arms. She was quite beautiful and they looked good together. Hermione felt something in her heart as she gazed at the happy expression on Harry's face.

Maybe he wasn't so lonely after all…

Hermione looked to the side and noticed a photograph of a person with a mustache and long unkempt hair. Somehow, the image was very familiar, but she couldn't quite come close to remembering. It was bizarre really, that she would remember somebody whom she had not met.

At the other side of the room, there were more pictures, but before she could go over and look, she heard his footsteps coming down the stairs.

He appeared before her wearing a new set of pants, and a crisp white shirt. He handed her some clothes.

“Thanks,” she whispered, unable to tear his gaze away. His shirt was thin, so she could see the muscular breadth of his shoulders, and his chest. She shook her head. Her hormones were getting way ahead of her, “Um…where can I change?”

He must have been staring at her, too, because it took a while before he could direct her to the bathroom. While in there, Hermione tried her best to look as if she hadn't just cavorted all the way here under the rain. It took a while to dry her hair, but when she had, she was proud that it fell into an artless array down her back, instead of its usual wiry state.

Harry had given her women's clothes. You could say that she was more concerned than surprised that he had some with him. It wasn't really startling that he did because of the woman she had seen in the photographs, but for him to actually make her use it was disconcerting for her, more so after she had spent some few minutes wondering what it would feel like to be the girl with him in the picture.

The shirt was simple, but she had to throw onto it a sweater to cover herself fully. She had worn no underwear and it was understood what she would be revealing if she wore only one layer of clothing.

She must have been gone quite long because by the time she got outside, he already had with him two cups of steaming coffee. She smiled when he offered one to her.

“I called for car service,” he mumbled when they made their way back to the living room, “They said the storm was to clear up in a couple of hours. They'd send someone by then. Is that all right with you?”

She nodded absentmindedly, poignantly remembering that she used to wish for nights like these when it was raining and the man she was with would let her cuddle close to him and he would wrap his arms around her as they waited for the rain to stop.

Of course, those dreams of hers never did happen because nobody stayed long enough to keep her company that way, not even Lucas, who had always been out. She couldn't figure out the reason that Lucas never bothered to stay with her for as long as a couple of hours. She had suspected him to have another woman; she just didn't want to believe it.

“I suppose we could talk now about that dare?” Harry said from behind.

Hermione blinked away the tears that had threatened to fall on her face, and turned to look at him. She nodded, shoving aside the thought of Lucas. “I owe you an explanation.”

His gaze on her was intense as she made her way towards the sofa where he was seated. He must have sensed her reluctance, because he shrugged and said. “Not right now, if you're not up to it.”

She shook her head. “It's nothing really.”

“You sure?”

“The dare was something that I made with two of my friends,” she said as she sat down across him, “I had drunk quite some whiskey, and it must have gotten in my head. I normally don't do dares, you know.”

“I'm not arguing with that,” he kidded.

Hermione threw him a sheepish look and then continued. “One of them told me to introduce myself to you.”

“Which you didn't do,” he interrupted light-heartedly.

“And then kiss you.”

“Now that, you did.”

Hermione smiled. “Really, that was it.”

“That explains who gave the dare. But it really didn't explain why you had yourself put up for it.”

Hermione looked away from him. It was a personal question, one that he knew should not be asked. But why was he asking? And why was she not answering?

It would be easy to put the blame on Lucas.

But then Lucas had been an important part of her life, and as much as she hated to admit, she still loved the guy. He was a bastard, but she loved him still, so what did that make her?

Desperate.

“I'm sorry about the kiss,” she evaded, offering him her best apologetic smile, “I couldn't understand why you were so mad, but when I saw you had a girlfriend, I figured she might find out and it would get you in trouble.”

He looked at the pictures he'd seen and laughed. Hermione wasn't so sure if there was bitterness in there, but he didn't say anything else.

It sank her spirits when he didn't refute her claim; somehow she was hoping that the girl would turn out to be his sister, or just a friend. But she should have expected a handsome guy like him would already be with somebody.

“I'm sorry,” she said again, “I shouldn't have agreed when they picked you.”

“Out of curiosity, why did they?”

Hermione shrugged, yawning, exhaustion overcoming her. “I didn't get to ask.”

“You still haven't answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Why were you dared?”

“It was just a dare. Haven't you been dared before?”

“I have, but usually the reason is because people really don't have anything to do.”

Hermione smiled at him and splayed her hands across her, “There you go. We didn't have anything to do either.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you don't usually do dares. And as far as I'm concerned, boredom doesn't make a valid enough reason for someone like you to just accept the challenge.”

Hermione straightened. In just a short span of time, she had given him the means to analyze her. Great. She took a deep breath. “I've never been spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous,” he repeated incredulously, then he crossed his arms across his chest, “And the kiss was the spontaneous deed?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded once, “That's it.”

“What made you decide to be spontaneous?”

Hermione looked up at the ceiling. “I'm not sure I can talk about it now.”

Harry mimicked her and leaned back. “Just give me an idea so I can understand you.”

“I don't know you, Harry,” she wanted to plead with him to back off, but she just didn't have the strength to do so. Between discovering about Lucas' deception, and her escapade with this man she didn't know, she was finding it hard to keep her body away from sleep.

“But I can tell you, you can trust me,” Harry murmured, “Besides, don't I deserve to know everything?”

She shot him a dirty look, and straightened, although the posture was quite hard to maintain, “My boyfriend thought I was not exciting enough, so he broke up with me to get engaged with a model. I wanted to be spontaneous because I needed to show him what he left behind.”

Hermione said this so fast she didn't think he was able to understand, but then he did. And when Harry had fully grasped the situation, he looked at her with disbelief.

“How long had you been dating?”

“A little over a year,” she answered, “why?”

“Because that was the stupidest idea I've ever heard,” he muttered wickedly, “Did you really think he would come back because of that?”

It was Hermione's turn to look at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but could only manage to squeak out. “I wasn't trying to get Lucas back.”

“Weren't you?” he asked, shaking his head, “You were trying to be somebody he wanted. So what? So he could see that you could be exciting enough for him to leave his fiance and go back to you? I think you're smarter than that!”

“I wanted to prove to him that he left me for no reason. But I don't want him back.”

“Why was he with you in the first place?”

“What?”

“You don't mean to tell me that even after dating a year, he'd just discovered how boring you were. What made him stay for a year?”

“I don't know.”

“So, how does it feel to be spontaneous?” Harry muttered.

“What?”

“How does it feel to finally be that woman he wanted? Does it feel good, does it make you feel better?”

Hermione refused to look at him. There were tears burning in her eyes and if she looked at his accusing face, she was afraid she would admit defeat. But she could no longer deny that he was right.

“I'm guessing it didn't, it only made things worse. And you dragged me along your foolish heartbreak fit!”

His words hit her like bullets and she stood up to face him defiantly. “Don't you dare speak to me as if I have no right to hurt! Lucas left me because he thought I was not good enough for him. Do you know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel stupid and worthless. I haven't kept a relationship that long. Every single man I'd been with is now married. So the fault was not with them, it's with me! So excuse me for wanting to be that woman he wanted, that woman, every one of those men, wanted.”

“Stop,” Harry had stood to calm her down, to face her with a cool expression, but she could see that there was something wrong with him.

His eyes…

They were...sad…

“I am sorry for barging into your life like that, but I want to prove something,” Hermione shoved hard at him, neglecting the thought that he was no more than a stranger to her than she was to him, “You can say that you have the right for explanations. You can say that you have the right to be angry. But don't you dare tell me you have the right to judge me!”

The idea repulsed Harry that he wasn't thinking when he advanced on her and grabbed her arms. “I'm not judging you, damn it!” he gripped her hard enough to make her see sense, “I'm just telling you that what you did was not right. For me, nor for you.”

“And what do you know about right?” Hermione struggled against his hold, “You with your girlfriend, you don't know how I feel!”

“You're wrong, I know exactly how you feel!” Harry shouted.

Hermione snickered. “Yeah, right.”

His life was a completely different story. He could have any woman he wanted. With just a snap of his finger, anybody would come to save him from his pain, if he wanted to forget, he could and he would.

But she had no one.

And that was something he wouldn't understand.

Not in a million years.

To her great dismay, tears started to fall on her face. The exhaustion of today had finally overturned her emotions and she was ashamed that it was, of all the people, he who saw her weakness.

“Been dumped before, Harry?” she challenged him, owing it to herself to show some dignity. She was starting to sway, but she forced herself to look at him, to see his face clearly, “Been left without knowing the reason why? I suppose a man like you haven't had the luxury of experiencing that.”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” he glowered at her as her fogged mind cleared up, “Yesterday.”

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she stole a quick glance at the photographs just behind him. Her vision was blurry, but she could see how hurt he was when he began to recall.

“Yes, that's her,” he muttered savagely, still holding her in a death grip, “Got married with my teammate. Just a few days before I proposed.”

“Harry, I…”

“Can you imagine my surprise when I asked her to marry me, and instead of an `I will', she answered `I'm already married.' Quite the surprise, really. I thought she was joking.”

“I'm sorry,” Hermione muttered, bowing her head and crying hard.

Harry let go of her and gave her some distance. She swayed on the spot but managed to keep herself on her feet He shoved his hand through his hair. “I didn't tell you that so you would pity me. I just didn't want you to pity yourself.”

Hermione couldn't believe how she let her famous self-control snap. And she was ashamed that she had said some awful things to him. Even when she didn't know what happened, she had no right to say anything.

“I should go,” she muttered, and then flinched when a clap of thunder reverberated across the silent room.

“You should,” Harry agreed, “But I'm not letting you go out there, sick.”

Hermione looked up at him and wondered, although she was beginning to understand why.

“You're already warm.”

Hermione blinked. She knew she was feeling warm, but she was certain it had been because of anger. But now that she was starting to calm down, she could feel her energy was slipping out of her.

“Come on, I'll let you sleep in my room,” he muttered.

“I don't think…that's necessary…I can sleep…here…on the…on the couch,” Hermione placed her hand on her head as nausea forced herself to sit down. When she hit the soft cushions, she was immediately asleep.

“I'm not so angry to think that you can rest there,” he said as he approached her.

He leaned over and scooped her into his arms. She wasn't heavy, but the growing warmth in her caused Harry to flinch. She was even more ill than he thought.

Cursing himself, he secured her in his arms and went up the stairs to put her into bed. When she was settled comfortably under the layers of covering, he jogged down the stairs and retrieved a glass of water and some aspirin.

He had left the nightlight open before he had gone down, so when he entered the room, it didn't take him long to reach his bed.

He was surprised to see her shivering violently underneath the covers.

“Hermione,” he murmured in her ear. Even from the distance, he could feel her warmth, but she was trembling and he frowned even more.

She was suffering physically and emotionally, he remembered.

She was not a lost cause, but she certainly did not believe in herself.

But as he looked at her, he couldn't find the words to describe her other than…

She was beautiful.

Completely mesmerizing…

And it had taken him some time to recover from the shock of seeing her up close.

He had not seen her earlier in the pub. If he had, he would have been more prepared for the impact of her presence.

The moment she had stepped up to him, he immediately had this jolt of sensation. She was this exotic thing. Her hair was of luscious curves and rich honey. Her eyes were a melting color of chocolate, sweet, enticing…wickedly tempting.

And her mouth, those full lips had been driving him crazy all night!

It didn't bode well for him to be reacting this way, not after breaking up with Sophia. But, Hermione was more than he wanted her to be and he found himself liking her, despite the dangerous situation that dare of hers put him through.

Harry shook his head as his thoughts had gone way ahead of him again.

Tonight was the end of their relations. After tonight, he would never allow himself to see her again, because that would be stupid.

He didn't need a relationship.

He didn't want a relationship…

“Hermione,” he murmured yet again, “wake up.”

She stirred, slowly, her lids opening, blasting him with those eyes of hers.

“Drink this, then you can go back to sleep.”

It took a great deal of effort for her to lift her head from the pillows and swallow the pill he had given, but when she had, her lips immediately closed and she settled back on the bed. But her shivers were starting again.

Harry had no idea what else to do but offer her some of his own warmth.

This was dangerous. He couldn't help but think. More so that he seemed to have developed a response to her whenever she got close. But she was not going to get rid of those shivers alone. Not when the rain continued to pour, and her fever spiking up.

Against his thoughts, but not his will, Harry climbed into bed with her. And leaned over to turn off the night light. She was facing him and he felt a tightening in his gut as he placed his head on the pillow next to hers.

Then he made the mistake of letting his gaze drop onto her lips.

Was it tonight that they'd just met?

It seemed like they have known each other for so long, with the way they had suddenly expressed those feelings. Would it be wrong for him, who had only gotten out of a relationship yesterday, to admit an attraction for someone who had just broken up with somebody as well?

If it was, then what he was about to do was completely out of the question…

But he was hooked…and she was pulling him closer, and closer…

Only few inches away, and he would be even warmer than what he wanted her to feel. He could feel her breath mingling with his own…

Just a few more seconds to go and she…

Turned…

Harry blinked and then laughed.

“Aw, hell…” he muttered as he comfortably settled his face instead on the crook of her neck.

She muttered something incoherent and felt her move closer.

Still shivering, he snaked his arm around her waist and let her body settle next to his. Smiling, he let himself be lulled into sleep by the rhythmic sound of her breath next to his.

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A/N:

I think this is just about enough suspense for the day. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to make another chapter next week. I sure do hope so. Again, mistakes are present, so please bear with them. I spent 5 hours doing this, so you could say I'm quite tired. 18 pages are as long as I can go. I achieved what I wanted in this chapter. And I hope you liked it.

Please, please review! Thank you very much!

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A/N:

Hey, guys! Here's another chapter. I know I promised I'd write a week ago, but I had to do an interview for a project in our class. Anyway, this is just a short chapter for because I didn't want to put so much detail in it cause I haven't thought of the whole plot yet.

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Harry Potter had never been a deep sleeper.

So when his mobile rang just on the break of dawn, it didn't take him long to locate the bloody thing and toss it aside. Naturally, he didn't want to get up just yet, but something felt quite odd with the way he was positioned in bed.

Normally, he always woke up with his body covering almost the entire thing.

But that morning, he was just on one side.

It took him another full minute to actually realize where he was and that there was a woman lying next to him. Imagine his frustration when he couldn't remember why the woman he was in bed with was not Sophia.

His head throbbed from last night's too much ingestion of whiskey, but it was funny how he couldn't remember being drunk.

Then just as it him who she was, his phone went off again.

Rolling his eyes to no one in particular, certainly not the woman who was lying peacefully beside him, Harry tossed aside the covers and stood up, stretching quite a few of his well-toned muscles before trudging across the carpeted floors and skimming through his piles of used clothes where his mobile had landed.

He looked at the caller I.D. and grimaced.

He flipped it open a little too harshly.

“This had better be good, Warren,” he murmured groggily, shifting aside the blinds to his room and squinting when the full blast of early morning sunshine hit his eyes.

“Have you seen the news?”

Harry mentally chucked his agent on the head. “It's 6 in the morning.”

“And?”

“You would think somebody normal would still be sleeping at this hour. Besides, any news does not concern me.”

“It might surprise you, Harry that it does concern you,” his agent muttered impatiently and in a clipped tone, “In fact, I advise you to look before you speak. I would hate for you to eat your words, because I would need your explanation after.”

Harry was just about to ask why his agent was being so surly at such an early time when the other line went dead. Scratching his head, he walked across the room to get out. The knob in his grasp, Harry glanced first at Hermione to make sure she was still asleep, and went out.

His head was throbbing from last night's too much ingestion of whiskey, but it was funny that he could remember much of what happened. Aside from the fact that he was still in bed with her until 6 in the morning, he pretty much remembered how he had gotten there.

His bare feet padded silently on the tiled floor as he reached his living room, where the only television he could use as of the moment was located. His other set was in his room, but he couldn't very well open it there or it might disturb his guest's rest.

Comfortably seated on his couch where he and Hermione had had their little conversation the night before, Harry switched on the television and shifted through stations. As he tried to look for the news that Warren had been talking about, he abruptly chuckled.

It was not like his agent to forget something as little as this.

How could Harry watch the news when he didn't even know which channel to go?

But the smile died on his face when he caught a glimpse of his name on one of those entertainment shows as he was surfing through channels.

For an entire year, no one had actually seen him, much more, aired him on TV. He had been in a press conference yesterday, but he doubted that it caused a lot of stir to alert the entire population of England.

But when he was expecting the clip to be the interview he had done the day before, it turned out to be the one thing he had been trying to avoid. It was surprising; really, that he was not so much disturbed the night before, but seeing it now, seemed a little bit disconcerting.

The camera crew who had filmed him had been quite discreet because Harry had not been aware they were even there. The worse thing was, they had been interested in him so much that the film didn't even stop even for just a minute.

Harry grimaced when he saw a clip flash on screen with him and Hermione enjoying what appeared to be a very mutually desired and intentional kiss. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that there were indeed some sort of long lost lovers.

Had the kiss been that long? He asked himself when the contact didn't end the moment he expected it to. No wonder Warren seemed a bit put off. The next thing Harry knew, his TV version was now dragging Hermione out of the pub, and the cameraman started to run towards their direction. The editors didn't even have the sense to edit the part where all the viewers could see was the very dizzying shot of skidding pavement and feet running. Just when Harry thought he would throw up from watching, the camera suddenly focused into place and showed him shoving Hermione into the car, and getting inside himself.

The director must have been so enthused about the story that they even showed the part where they drove off. Fortunately, his car had performed magnificently, and nobody had been able to catch up to them.

Raking a hand through his disheveled hair, he leaned back and allowed himself to fall carelessly on the couch's backrest.

He had definitely made a mess out of this one, despite the bit of detail that he was not the one who kissed him. However, he was willing to admit that if he hadn't seemed like willing participant, the whole thing would have been passed off as a stunt by some fan.

“Brilliant,” he muttered as he closed his eyes in frustration.

Any other normal celebrities would have just dismissed the news because running away with some local girl was actually no longer a big deal. It elicited some kind of trend in the industry that famous people can get away with those kinds of things.

But with enough twist to the story, these did definitely end up being treated as a major crime.

But the problem was, he had not yet that big of name to be bestowed upon such attention. When he had been a writer before he signed up for the team, people recognized him, but they didn't ogle at him. They respected him more and didn't try to evade his privacy.

He knew the moment he decided to do something he had never experienced that an extreme life was waiting for him after he had signed his name on the contract. But as far as extremes go, this was the ultimate.

The media had been aware of his relationship with Sophia because they constantly materialized during his training, their hounds of ears having caught the news that he would be playing in the playoffs. Unfortunately, they were also privy to the news of his almost engagement and didn't bother hiding their interest.

Last night's exploit with Hermione had given the juice to the story. He had just broken up with Sophia two days ago, and just the next night, he was lip-locked with somebody the press surely didn't know.

It was just the thing to turn heads and catch interest.

If the news had been true, even though it technically was, he wouldn't be bothered. But the press made it look like he was as guilty as the next bloke poor whose heart had been broken enough to stir some stunt that shouted revenge and jealousy.

The cell phone in his hand vibrated before the tone erupted. And Harry answered without missing a beat, knowing it was Warren again, calling to confirm whether he had seen the news.

“Yes, I saw it,” Harry murmured.

“Saw what?”

Ron sounded genuinely surprised and Harry let out a breath.

“Nothing.”

“You sound tired,” Ron chuckled, his tone light-hearted and teasing, “Had some night last night, didn't you?”

It took quite an effort not to erupt in fits just as the thought that Ron believed he had picked up some girl in the bar crossed Harry's mind. Instead, he just chuckled. “You didn't have one of your own, did you? That's why you're up early.”

“I don't think I could without dying of heart attack. Just the thought that I could squash my own child pretty much diminishes any intent,” Ron muttered.

“Tough,” Harry mused, sifting through stations again, hoping that somewhere in between, he would see again the news, “Wouldn't want to be you.”

He stopped pressing the button when by some miracle, his face flashed once more on screen. He went back one channel, discovered it was one of those cheesy tabloid productions, and hit the mute button to simply watch what they were showing the entire population who was bored enough to watch them.

“Seriously, Harry, I know you didn't sleep with her,” he heard Ron's voice grew somber and Harry sobered up, “Why do you sound tired?”

“Warren called,” Harry said as if just the mere mention of his agent's name would carry his point across the line. He didn't want to explain any further because he was a little busy discerning what he was seeing on TV, even though he pretty much knew what was going to happen next.

“And his calls are usually bad, is that it?”

“Sort of,” he mumbled absentmindedly, “They're stressful.”

“Hey, he's your agent, he's supposed to give you stress,” Ron kidded, “He wouldn't be effective if he just sat down all day, taking credit for your success.”

“I'd rather he stick his nose into his job and not into my private life,” Harry hissed.

“So, this is about your girlfriend.”

“Sophia?” Harry frowned.

“No,” Ron immediately negated, “the other one.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Harry snarled, gripping the phone tighter, “I thought you believe I didn't sleep with her?”

“You don't have to sleep with one for her to be your girlfriend,” Ron explained, and then mused aloud, “Unless that's the new definition of the term nowadays.”

“She's not my girlfriend,” Harry reiterated through gritted teeth.

“You know, I was a bit surprised that you got over Sophia in such a short period of time. Care to explain how that happened?”

“I'd rather keep that information to myself,” Harry grumbled.

“Fine by me,” Ron gave up, knowing full well that no matter how much he tried to convince him to reveal what he was keeping to himself, Harry would die first before actually saying anything.

“Have you seen the news?” Harry asked him.

“Not yet, why?” Ron asked curiously, “Is there something worth watching?”

Harry decided to postpone the inevitable publicity as long as he could, so he tried to say in a natural tone, “Nothing. I just wanted to know whether my press conference yesterday had been aired already.”

He heard Ron chuckle at the other end of the line. “It's six in the morning. If producers wanted higher ratings, they would air your press conference when people are watching.”

Harry nodded, even though he really didn't mean his explanation. “Have you told Luna that I'm back?”

“Not since last night, no,” Ron joked, quite amused that Harry had chosen not to inform anybody of his return except him. For more than a year, Harry had already been staying in London, but not so much as a hair on his head had been spotted by any of his friends, or even acquaintances. It was funny that even the entire Weasley clan was oblivious to his presence. “You do know that after they see your interview, they're going to know.”

“I know,” Harry nodded, knowing as well that after his press conference had been aired on TV, there was no going back. He would have to face the world that he had once left before.

It was hard to do it.

In fact, if he had had the chance to think about it even more, Harry was sure that he wouldn't have gone through the whole ordeal. But the moment his diploma had been handed to him and its smooth contour brushed against the palm of his hand, Harry had decided he could no longer continue living the life of a famous boy, who had only gotten his fame just because he brought down an infamous and notorious murderer.

He wanted a life for himself, to build a name that would go down the history that had something more than his scar and his impermeability to death written for recognition.

Even though he had no idea about what he wanted to do, he left England to fend for himself and landed in America, where he met Warren, a very independent business man who was engaged in the industry of publication.

Harry met him while Warren was perusing over some books in the local library and he (Harry) was in the process of finishing the first chapter of his fiction novel.

There was no stopping Warren's intent when he came up to Harry the next day and offered to publish his first work. Apparently, Harry had left the first page of his chapter behind and he had come upon it.

At first, Harry was not so sure that writing was the career that he wanted to pursue. But the joy of knowing people were reading his work of words that came from his mind and heart had been enough to convince him to agree to sign a contract.

Ever since that first time, Warren had taken care of his publications. It was just a matter of time before Harry's first book had been recognized and given the title of Bestseller.

His books had been about many things but never did it dwell on himself. He touched the politics, murder, drama, the supernatural, and even romance. But they were not published under his name. If he had given his own name, Harry would have been found eventually and dragged back into the life that he had become so weary of.

So he wrote each of his books under a pseudonym.

Nicholas Everett.

For nine years, he had lived under a name that wasn't his and gave up the name he had been given.

A name that he was proud of, even then, but could not risk to be known.

Nicholas Everett became famous for his seemingly real-life tales. He was already successful when he decided to do a series, a series that would have been an autobiography had he not changed the name of his hero.

For five years, he wrote of a boy who had become known all his life because his parents had helped apprehend a murderer, who escaped years later and came back year after year, to taunt the boy. It had seemed so heartwarming and thrilling for the readers to read the dramatic life of that young boy.

And each time somebody came up to him to tell him that his portrayal of James Reef was so convincing that each tale caused their toes to curl and their eyes to widen in fear for his sake, Harry felt an underlying peace that somehow, even though he used his life to make these stories, people were amazed by him, the writer, not the boy-who-lived.

But the fear that someone might recognize the stories had never left Harry.

And so, he decided to contact Ron to explain to him what happened.

All these years, it had only been Ron who knew where he was and who he had become. It had also been Ron who suggested that Harry place a picture of somebody else in the back cover of his book to pose as Nicholas Everett.

At that time, Harry didn't want to ask anybody to do it, so Warren convinced him to grow a beard and copy the color of Sirius' eyes. It was that image that the scanners and printers had run on his books.

Harry was no longer recognizable, but it felt eerie looking at a spitting image of Sirius. Thankfully, no one had been able to see Sirius that way except for the Weasley Family, so the risk of him being discovered had been minimal.

But as the years went by, he felt himself growing more and more lax in writing. He had finished James Reef's life story and was trying to come up with a new series, but the thought of doing it forever had suddenly gone down a notch of the things he wanted to do.

Wanting to have some time alone to think, Harry had wondered along the streets of New York, when he came upon a high school soccer field. There were students playing, and it didn't take long for him to feel the rush of playing a game he knew he was born to play.

The games with the high school team began to take place regularly, and before he knew it, one of the players for the Lions, England's international soccer team, saw him playing, was awed by his ability, and recruited him for the team.

Warren had been against it, itching to have another book reach the bestseller spot, but he understood Harry enough to consent for as long as he didn't stop writing.

Harry didn't even know at that time that he wanted to become a national league soccer player. But the more he thought about it, the more interested and enthusiastic he felt.

James Potter had been a soccer player himself, but Harry had never considered the idea to become exactly like him until that moment.

And that was when Harry realized what he was missing.

Something that connected him to his parents who had been killed merely hours after Riddle had been apprehended, no doubt done by his cronies under his command. He didn't carry the guilt over their death, but he carried the responsibility to keep their name alive.

Perhaps that was the reason he left England, to show to the world that the Potter could be famous for more than just being the victims of a criminal.

As Nicholas Everett, he had gotten an inner pleasure of knowing that as a Potter, he was keeping their flag raised. But the recognition that it was a Potter not an Everett who had these accomplishments had not been duly given.

It was at that moment that Harry knew what he needed to do.

It was time to go back to London.

“You can avoid the melodramatics, you know,” Ron interrupted his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“You can tell them any time you want, before they find out. It's much better that way, don't you think?”

“Maybe,” Harry nodded, knowing full well that Ron was right.

“Listen, just drop by any time you want,” Ron suggested, “You know where I live.”

“To surprise you?”

“Not me, them,” Ron chuckled, “Merlin knows I'm no longer surprised by your actions.”

Harry was about to say something when there was a beeping sound from his mobile. He shook his head.

Boy, was Warren having a field day!

“Ron, I have to go, Warren's calling,” Harry muttered.

“Sure, mate,” Ron agreed, “I'll see you soon.”

“That you will,” Harry muttered decidedly before hearing a click at the other end of the line. He waited a minute first before answering Warren's call. “Yeah, yeah, I've seen it.”

“Harry?”

At first Harry was taken aback by the female voice and didn't recognize who owned it. Then he groaned, remembering from whom it came and how much he had missed that sound.

Why was she calling him?

And why did she sound so grief-stricken?

Granted that Sophia had never been a screamer, it seemed a bit disconcerting that she sounded more depressed, as if he was the one who left, not her.

It was one of the qualities that he loved and would miss.

She was a good person. And they had so many good memories. She had never looked as if she was capable of taking more than one at a time. That was the reason that it caused him so much to realize how that had been a lie.

Naturally, Harry took the news of her engagement with Greg nastily.

He didn't even waste time beating the guy to a pulp, and he would have done more damage had it not been for his other teammates restraining him. The blood on his clenched fists had abated his anger, and he left without letting either of them explain.

He missed Sophia, but he wanted nothing more to do with her. Still, he fought the urge to shut his mobile and leave her hanging, curiosity and depression won over.

“What do you want?” his voice carried a bit of bravado, but he sounded weary.

There was a strange sound of a cry before he heard her voice, “How could you do this to me?”

Harry held the phone away from him and stared at it in shock. Placing the receiver back against his ear, he spat angrily. “I haven't done anything worse than what you did.”

“You kissed another woman,” Sophia raised her voice to what he could only consider as a normal tone for everybody else, “You made me look like a fool.”

“Again, nothing you haven't done first.”

“Who is she?”

“Nobody,” he answered, suddenly feeling very tired, and then noticing that the TV program he had been watching had switched on to another clip of him and Hermione, in a different angle.

Seriously, how many cameras had been there last night?

“Nobody?” Sophia sighed again, making his ears burn from the delicate sound, “You kissed her, but she's nobody?” Then he heard her take a deep breath, “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Unless you have something else to say, sweetheart, this conversation is going nowhere,” he pointed out, “You keep on accusing me of things I wasn't fit to do before you decided I was not the man you wanted to marry. So I suggest you tell me why you called, aside from wanting to question me about Hermione.”

“Hermione,” Sophia repeated, “I guess she's not nobody after all.”

“I haven't got all day, Sophia,” Harry warned, his words piercing him, but he needed to say them.

“Harry,” she muttered tentatively.

“What?”

“I'm sorry.”

The line went dead.

Harry sighed as he tossed his mobile away from him.

Figures.

She would do it through a call.

She hadn't had the guts to tell him before he made a fool of himself, and she had not the guts to apologize face to face. He should have seen her for the scheming bitch that she was.

Before another minute could pass, his phone went off again.

This time, Harry let out a frustrated breath.

Why the hell were people calling at six in the morning?!

“What?”

“You are going to have to listen to me, Harry,” his agent's voice rang out, surprising him.

Finally.

“What is this about?” he asked, feeling quite uncomfortably.

“Who was that woman?”

“Her name's Hermione,” Harry said, then he couldn't remember whether she had said her last name.

“Do you know her?”

“Not in the way that you think I do,” he muttered.

“Then why the hell were you kissing her?!”

Harry felt as if his ears were going to explode as he held the receiver away from his ears. “It was a dare.”

That seemed to stop Warren from fuming, perhaps even breathing.

“What did you say?”

“A dare.”

And then Harry proceeded to tell him what Hermione had related the night before, leaving some parts out for privacy. But Warren didn't need to hear the full version to arrive at the same conclusion that Harry had achieved last night.

“She's an idiot.”

“She's depressed,” Harry defended, although he didn't know why he did.

“I just got off the phone with your coach and the Lions' owner.”

Harry held his breath.

Beating Greg just before the play offs had not been a good move, and he had been warned that if he caused another scandal for himself or for the team, his contract would be burned and he would be banned from ever entering any soccer field again.

It was too harsh a punishment for someone broken hearted, but he couldn't do anything, he was still a rookie, and he needed to establish a name amongst other names to get away with something as silly as picking a fight or hooking up with some girl at a local pub.

“What did they say?”

“Nothing you would want to hear.”

“Am I…” he couldn't bear to say it, “Am I off the team?”

“Not yet, but you had been closed,” Warren sighed, sounding relieved. For all his complaints about the guy, Harry liked him, “Two days in a row, Harry.”

“What am I supposed to do? I didn't know she was going to kiss me!”

“I don't know what you could have done when she kissed you, but I know you could have refrained yourself from taking her to your car and letting everybody see you drive off with her still in it.”

Harry groaned. “I can't change that.”

“Yes, I know,” Warren replied slowly, then he took a deep breath, and spoke a little too calmly, “Are you sure she's not your girlfriend?”

“What?” Harry asked, taken aback, “No!”

“All right, all right. I'll call you when I've thought about this more; I can't think when you're listening to me.”

With that, his fourth conversation in only a half hour ended.

“Warren?” He shouted, although he knew it was futile. He had probably gone up to his office already to fix the damage that last night had caused his career.

Harry huffed out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

“I've caused you some trouble, didn't I?”

At the sound of another female voice, completely different from Sophia's, Harry nearly jumped to his feet. It was a good thing that he had good reflexes or he would have embarrassed himself in front of her.

“Uh…”

“You don't have to lie to me, you know,” Hermione offered tentatively, still looking a little weak from last night's fever.

Harry offered her his best nonchalant smile and shrugged. “Quite.”

“You don't have to pretend it's little,” she murmured, taking a step closer, “I heard you talking to your agent.”

“Warren tends to be a little hyped about such things, don't worry,” he moved aside to let some room for her to pass. She took his offer and sat down on the sofa.

“Thank you for looking after me last night,” she smiled at him and Harry felt something tug at his heart.

“It was my fault. You wouldn't have been so soaked had I not left you.”

“It wasn't the rain,” Hermione clarified, then she shook her head as if she was being silly, “Well, it was, but not in the way you think.”

Harry inclined his head to the side and regarded her with a curious look. He was startled when instead of an explanation, he only noticed how she looked radiant, even more so than last night, and he fought the urge to gaze at her pink lips, fresh from sleep.

Hermione must have realized what he was not trying to do, so she looked away. “I should go now. I've caused you more trouble than what you want me to believe.”

Harry saw no point into asking her to stay since she obviously wanted to get away from him. Because of what, he didn't know. And instead of asking, he just nodded.

“All right, I'll just go get my keys,” he stood up and walked over to the shelf where he usually placed his set. He was putting on his coat when, when he heard her voice.

“I can go by myself, Harry,” she said with finality.

“But you could have a relapse,” Harry didn't want to put anything into his reluctance other than the reason that he had given her.

“I'm fine now. I don't feel anything at all,” Hermione shook her head, “If I could just have my clothes back from last night, I could be on my way.”

What was wrong with her?

Why was she speaking so formally?

Harry wanted to ask, but again, he couldn't find the reason to.

Shaking his head, he went to the bathroom to retrieve her clothes and when he got back to the living room, she was already standing near the doorway, waiting for him, looking as if she couldn't wait to get away.

Frowning, he approached her and handed her belongings to her outstretched hand.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her head bowed. She opened the door and got out, but he immediately grabbed her arm to pull her back inside.

Hermione's eyes were wide with shock, and Harry's heart started to beat faster.

There were at least a dozen photographers outside and had managed to take pictures when his front door opened, revealing him and Hermione. They had captured images of them in the doorway.

“Shit.”

Harry started to pace, his hands wiping furiously at his face, and then raking his hair.

“Omigod.”

Hermione started to pace, too. She was trembling and looked about ready to faint.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Harry stopped for a moment to look at her, taking note of her shocked face.

He could blame her. But for all the life in him, he couldn't. He should have known they were going to be followed, but he didn't realize that at such an early morning, they would be there.

What was he supposed to do now?

Last night, they had seen him and Hermione kiss and then leave the pub together. Now, they also discovered Hermione had spent the night, and had even gotten some damnable evidence for it.

He was in some serious muck!

If Warren found out about this, he would be facing his wrath again.

What was that he said?

Then it struck him.

Warren.

He grabbed Hermione's hand.

“What are you doing?” she demanded when he started pulling her towards the doorway.

She tried to yank her arms away from his grasp but he was stronger and more determined. He reached for the doorknob at the same time his gaze locked with hers.

“You wanted to make your point to Lucas, didn't you?”

Harry didn't mean to make it sound so harsh but it had.

Hermione flinched. She had barely spoken a syllable, much more breathed out her rising panic, when his hand turned the knob and they were blinded once again with so many cameras clicking and flashes erupting.

She desperately tried to keep up with Harry when he descended the stairs agilely and dragged her to his car. The cameras were taking pictures of them when he stopped to open the door for her. They were shouting questions but Hermione barely had time to let them register in her mind.

What concerned her was that Harry seemed not to mind that the one thing he had tried so hard to keep from happening the night before was happening right before their very eyes.

“Do you want to make it up to me?” he asked when she faced him.

Harry must have seen the confusion in her eyes, because his own turned into a warning gaze. She was about to tell him to go to hell when he disarmed her with the most charming smile that had ever been bestowed upon her.

And before she knew it, the only blinding flashes that kept her from seeing straight were that of the stars suddenly looming above.

For the first time in her life, Hermione could focus on nothing else…

But the lips that had suddenly claimed hers…

------------------------------------------

A/N:

Oh this was a long and pointless chapter to explain the reason that Harry had been away. It still has not explained the reason that Hermione did not know him, though. That's because it's going to be in the next chapter. I just wanted to get this thing over with.

No more revisions, by the way. If ever the chapter does not fit the plot, I'll work my way through it. Make some more twists and stuff.

I hope you liked it and I'm very glad of the favorable response. Again, this has not been edited, so I'm going to say I'm sorry in advance for the confusing spelling, grammar and any other mistakes I've made.

Aside from this, you would notice that the story seems nonmagical. That's because I've decided to make it so. If I had made it magical, Hermione could have just done a drying spell on her to dry her from last night's soak period. And it wouldn't give her the reason to stay at Harry's or get sick. So, putting magic would make things easier for them, and would give them less time to interact. But I've decided to use original places and establishments from the Harry Potter books. But, just so you know, they're all normal here.

Thank you for reading, and I do hope you review! Until the next update.

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A/N:

Hey, guys! So sorry for not giving you an update. I've been busy with schoolwork. Yep, even during vacation, we were given a lot of assignments, so I had to finish them first. Actually, I haven't finished the last two yet because they're long and difficult. So I wanted to take a break. And this chapter is the result of that break.

I hope you like it and somehow make some sense out of it, because I'm beginning to realize a lot of impossible things in my story. I'm itching to revise, but as I said before, no more revisions. I just have to find some loophole or something.

---------------------------------------------------

All right.

Maybe it was only a fleeting kiss.

A pathetic kiss…

One that wasn't even worth comparing to last night's.

But it had to mean something…

Or else…

The guy was just insane.

Maybe he was, Hermione just couldn't tell. With the way he was suddenly looking at her, as if she was the one who decided to kiss him right in front of the paparazzi, it was quite tempting to hit him right there and there.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry sidestepped her and opened the car door behind her. She hadn't even gotten the chance to take in what just happened before he shoved her, quite hard, inside.

He walked around the car to get to the driver's side. Half-expecting him to enter as quickly as he had made her, Hermione gaped when he paused halfway instead, and gave a jaunty wave to their audience.

Was he barking mad?!

He was goading them, as if daring them to denounce what they'd just seen. He was not making the situation better! He was ruining everything that he attempted to do the night before.

She was going to kill him if he even dared to blame the rest of his troubles on her.

He was already in so many, she clearly recalled, so what was he doing creating another one for himself? And apparently, he didn't mean to go down alone. He meant to drag her along with him.

Before Hermione could dwell on the fact that it was her dare that got her into trouble, Harry got inside, said not a word to her, didn't even spare her a glance, and just started the engine. It roared to life, deafening Hermione for a moment. As he waited for it to warm up, he kept his eyes glued on the road in front of them.

Hermione wanted to speak, but her mouth was not cooperating. There was something about the vein thickening just underneath his jaw that warned her not to say anything until he spoke first.

It was as good as anything, though, because suddenly, she had no desire to talk to him. She had already apologized for barging into his life and was in fact all ready to disappear from it when he decided to pull a stunt for himself. This time, it was his fault, so it was up to him to do the groveling now.

A minute passed by, still nary a word. As he changed gears, she wasn't surprised when he still kept to himself, not even warning her to buckle up. Barely a moment later, they were speeding away from the photographers, leaving behind a trail along the muddy road.

Hermione spared Harry another glance before lapsing into complete silence. He looked nowhere near accommodating, so she could do nothing else but close her eyes and sigh inwardly.

Like it or not, she added begrudgingly, the car was not the only one in serious muck.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes had gone past, yet Hermione was still not speaking to him.

It was taking all the effort Harry had left in him not to take his eyes off the road and steal another glance at her. He didn't mean to, but he was getting frustrated with her. Add that and the anger he felt for himself for what he'd done and he had a storm brewing inside.

Even after a quarter of an hour of thinking, he still couldn't come up with a sensible reason for kissing her in front of those people who might as well have been carrying his future in their hands.

What the bloody hell possessed him?

He merely meant to mock them by moving closer to Hermione, but something inside him snapped when his gaze fell on her lips, and he found himself leaning further and further until he felt his own touch hers.

It was not an intimate kiss, he'd give himself that.

It was a light one, a peck on the lips; nothing more.

But he realized when it was already too late that even just a kiss on the cheek would have been enough to make those people wild with excitement. They were hungry hounds, waiting even for just a bite. Anything would have done the trick, but Harry, the idiot that he was, gave them a feast.

He took a deep breath. It was going to take some explaining to justify his reasons, even though he wasn't sure he had any, so he might as well give up the effort of pretending that he would do well not to talk to Hermione.

“Would you please say something?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

He felt her eyes on him as the hair on the back of his neck stood. He was ready to take whatever insults she would toss at him. After the idiocy of what he'd managed to do within the past hour, God knew he deserved them.

“What do you want me to say?”

Harry blinked.

Well, what did he want her to say?

Mentally scratching his head, he stole a quick glance at her to gauge her reaction. “Uh, anything,” he muttered tentatively, after taking a right turn.

“Could you drop me off to the nearest station?”

Harry nearly pressed down on the brakes.

Well, he certainly wasn't expecting that.

He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Purely by chance, he passed by a road sign, indicating the distance left to travel to the nearest bus station. He noted that it wasn't for another 30 minutes.

Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or edgy about it. It did give him time to explain to Hermione about the kiss, but he was not certain whether she wanted an explanation. From the icy indifference she had set between them, he could tell that she'd rather not hear anything.

Too bad for her, he wasn't going to let her go without listening.

“Don't you want to know why I kissed you?”

He hadn't meant to sound so nonchalant or blatant about it but he saw no other reason to stall. Plus, he also didn't want to insult her intelligence when it was clear that the issue was all they could think about.

He didn't realize that he was actually holding his breath until she opened her mouth.

“No.”

This shut him up.

If he expected her answer to relieve him, it certainly did nothing remotely close to it.

Bloody hell.

This woman was stubborn.

“Why not?” he asked, suddenly hesitant. He could feel Hermione weighing her answer even if she wasn't really looking at him but outside the window. It wasn't much of an encouragement, but at least she wasn't ignoring him completely.

“Because I'm sure you don't even know yourself.”

It was quite beguiling to try and hold a conversation with someone who might as well have her own x-ray vision.

He felt quite exposed.

And not to mention, irritated.

“Since you're so good, can you tell me why I kissed you?”

Hermione merely lifted a brow at him and shrugged in her seat, making him feel like a two-year old. “Sorry, I don't think like a crazy person.”

Harry felt smoke coming out of his ears. Maybe it was just his imagination but Hermione looked like she was enjoying his discomfort. He changed gears and drummed his fingers on the stirring wheel as he waited for his impatience to abate. He glanced again at her and had to bite back a smile when he caught her stealing one at him.

He sighed.

“I'm going to be honest with you, all right?” he began companionably, releasing his pressure on the accelerator. The car slowed down but didn't stop. When they were driving on a speed safe enough to hold a conversation while driving, Harry took a deep breath and said. “I don't know why I kissed you.”

If he expected her to turn nasty on him, she didn't. In fact, she remained quite composed, something he wasn't really surprised with. She didn't say anything for a while either.

He noticed her taking long deep breaths and figured she was trying to control her annoyance. Harry already knew how she was when she was angry, if what he witnessed last night was indeed something close to that, so he was damned sure she wasn't mad at him now.

She exhaled loudly and turned her head in his direction, a first in the last hour they'd been together. “You do know that by tomorrow, people would see what you did?”

He would have pointed out that being the celebrity that he was, the thought never even left his mind anymore, but he figured she didn't exactly need the sarcasm. Not from him anyway.

The truth was the truth, if anything was needed to be said. Even as he felt his lips on hers earlier, he had vivid images of what those pictures would look like in less than an hour they were developed.

To reassure her that people would not be able to get their hands on those pictures would be futile because she herself had already resigned to the idea. So he had no choice but to nod.

This time, it was she who sighed.

“I'm not certain what to say, Harry,” she shook her head. She started fidgeting, her gaze locked on her hands. “Just drop me off to the station. I don't…”

“Don't what?” Harry interrupted softly, but none too friendly. His words had enough bite to make her look up. “Don't want to be caught up with the mistake I made?”

He didn't expect her to be guilty, but her silence told him a lot more than words could have actually said. He glared at the road ahead. “Well, that's just a little unfair, don't you think?”

Hermione whipped her head in his direction. Although her eyes were bleak, he words were not. “I've apologized for what I did, didn't I?”

She thought that the issue had been dealt and done with, and was apparently taken aback that he had thrown the dare in her face again, albeit it was not directly. She should have expected that all this time, he had meant to collect. She tried to save face by pointing out his fault. “I wasn't the one who asked to be kissed this morning!”

He actually chuckled. “You wouldn't be there to be kissed, if you hadn't stayed in my house last night!” Harry gripped the wheel tightly, trying to infuse his anger onto it.

“I beg your pardon?!” she cried in indignation, looking every bit the affronted woman that she was. “You insisted I stay. You said…”

“I know what I bloody said,” he interrupted. Then he gave her a cross look. “If you weren't sick, I'd have asked you to leave myself.”

“May I remind you that if you had not abandoned me in the middle of the forest, I wouldn't have gotten sick?”

“You wouldn't have…” he paused because she had raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to make a comment.

He didn't bother hiding his irritation as he let out a breath. He realized that uttering another argument would not only be pointless, but stupid as well. Their pinpointing was heading nowhere. Besides, Harry knew that they would still end up with one conclusion: if Hermione had not agreed to the dare, she wouldn't have met Harry, and the rest would not have followed.

And as much as he hated admitting it, she still had a point.

He made the mistake of kissing her.

He was the reason that things got more complicated. If truth be told, he had enough charm in him to have worked things out with the press about last night. But with the debacle of this morning's interlude, not even he would believe that his charisma was enough to reverse the situation.

Hermione must have taken his silence as a truce so she made do with looking outside the window. It was not a consoling move, but Harry needed more than silence to think. He needed isolation.

He eased down on the accelerator and the engine began to roar in anticipation of the speed. He saw her glance at him for a second, surprised of the rush. She sighed, immediately realizing what he intended to do.

“What will you say to the press, Harry?” she softly asked a few minutes later.

Harry knew she was thinking about the whole situation and the many possibilities that could happen. He also knew she was not confused as to where she fit in the situation. He didn't exactly know either, but he wasn't about to make her believe she was off the hook.

They were in this together, and he'll be damned if he even let her think her audacity last night was forgotten.

“Warren will know what to do,” Harry shrugged, although his insides churned at the thought of having to face his agent's rebukes. “He's brilliant with excuses,” he added belatedly to emphasize the guarantee of them escaping with no more than a few laughs.

She nodded, but he could tell she was not as convinced as he wanted her to be.

She had that look about her when she was thinking too much. She looked as if she was about ready to explode. If the thought was quite funny, at the moment, it was not.

It bothered him that he had begun to recognize her habits merely after spending a few hours with her. Not only did he know about her anger or her concentration, but he had also noticed last night how she bit her lip when she was unsure of something and the way her eyes glazed several times when she was lost in thought.

Harry shuddered to think what else he would discover if he spent another day with her.

Not that the thought had crossed his mind.

He felt a flush creeping into his neck as he turned his head for a quick glance and failed to see any more expression on her face. She didn't look that bothered though, which was something he was glad for. But the silence that charged within the car was starting to get to him. He had the inkling that he would rather have her berate him than treat him with restrained answers.

“I don't want to be involved in a scandal, Harry.”

Okay.

So that wasn't what he wanted to hear. Not after deciding that he wasn't going to deal with this alone. But it was not his problem that she entered his life out of the blue. Although he was not a bastard to rub it in her face, he expected a little more backbone from her. And he sure as hell didn't want to be the one growing it for her.

“Like it or not, Hermione, you can't do anything about it,” Harry cleared his throat. There was no point hiding the truth from her. She might as well have all the bombs dropped on her. “You'll be lucky if the press hasn't found your name yet.”

Hermione's eyes grew wide with acknowledgement. Personally, he didn't want her to be involved in a crazy life. He really didn't. The look of shock in her face pulled at his conscience, but the scandal had been more of her fault than his, so he found himself shrugging the thought away.

“You'll tell them that it was just a dare, though, won't you?” she asked him desperately.

“That would be a bit humiliating on your part, don't you think, especially when I tell them you did it because of a guy.”

“You don't exactly have to say everything. Just tell them it was for fun.”

“And the fact that you spending the night at my house and me kissing you before leaving were also what? Just for fun?”

“Tell them I got sick. You wouldn't be lying because that's exactly the reason I slept there,” she rolled her eyes at him.

Harry didn't exactly feel the urge to laugh but just looking at her exasperation tugged a smile at the corner of his lips.

“And the kiss?”

Hermione crossed her arms. “That's for you to provide. I didn't kiss you.”

“But you wanted to.”

Hermione could swear her mouth dropped in her surprise. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the one desperate to kiss me.”

“I solved that problem, didn't I?” he responded with a cheeky grin.

She was speechless for a moment, not because she was thrilled at the idea, but because she was weighing her next words. If she uttered the wrong thing, he might get the idea that she liked the thought of him wanting to kiss her.

Plus, if she said something instantly, she might have revealed something humiliating.

Like the fact that she was thinking the same thing.

“You don't expect me to believe you find me attractive, do you? You just broke up with your fiance two days ago.”

Harry's eyes clouded for a moment. “Sophia was never my fiance, and you don't need to remind me when I broke up with her. Anyway, I don't see why you won't believe I find you attractive, you think I'm attractive after breaking up with what's-his-face yesterday.”

“His name is Lucas,” she corrected, unaware she didn't rectify his other claim.

But before he could point out her mistake, she straightened.

“Stop right here,” she ordered, unlocking the belt buckle and the door.

Harry shifted his attention to where they were and mentally cursed when he realized they were at the bus station.

He had run out of time.

Time for what?

What was he supposed to do again? He couldn't exactly remember with all the arguments that took place. But he did stop when they reached the shed. She opened the passenger door and started to get out. One of her feet was already outside his car when he reached across the seat and grabbed her arm.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, although she had the feeling why he stopped her.

“Can I have your number?”

In an instant, that high wired brain of hers began to work, intending to find out in a manner of seconds, milliseconds actually, why he wanted her number. It was certainly not because he wanted to date her. That would be next to impossible because judging by the way he looked when she mentioned his fiance, he was still not ready to indulge himself even in simple liaisons.

The only thing that he would want her number for is to have something to connect him to her when she would have to face the scandal of those pictures. He was not exactly the cleverest person if he believed she would fall for that. Besides, why didn't he just ask where she lived? Calling her to face those pictures would not exactly ensure that she would come personally.

But refusing to give him her number would only increase his persistence.

“Why?” she had to ask; she would arouse his suspicion if she didn't.

“So I could call you,” Harry shrugged.

“Yes, I believe it's used for that purpose,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him, “Why do you want to call me?”

He looked her in the eye and said. “I like you.”

Okay, even if she were simply a woman talking to a man, she wouldn't even lose breath over the absurdity of his words. How many of his women had fallen over that cheesy line?

But it wouldn't hurt to play along, would it?

Barely stifling a giggle, she answered, “Really?” she tried to muster enough starry-eyed enthusiasm over his declaration to convince him and make her sick. “You like me?”

His eyes crossed and he gave her a dismissive look. “Come on, Hermione, you don't expect me to just let you go so that you could disappear forever. I need you to face this with me.”

He had discovered her plot, which wasn't exactly a plot anyway, and had reverted back to his un-charming self.

“You're asking too much of me.”

His eyes sharpened with impatience.

“For goodness' sake, Harry!” she nearly shouted, recognizing his look. “Don't throw that dare back in my face or I swear I shall beat the bloody hell out of you!”

“And I supposed I should blame myself that you dropped out of nowhere?” he asked. Raking a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. “Even if I let you forget the whole thing, how am I supposed to convince them that it was simply a dare if you don't testify?”

Testify?

How much of a crime was committed anyway?

A loud horn suddenly emitted from behind them and both their heads whipped about to look for its source. The next bus was approaching fast and it was only a matter of time before it would stop right where they were.

Harry cursed while Hermione tried to tug her arm from his.

“Harry, I have to go.”

“Not until you give me your number.”

“I don't have one.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I swear,” she pulled away, but his grip was too strong.

“Tell that to someone stupid,” his eyes were murderous but she wasn't exactly terrified.

“All right,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I don't have a number.”

“Hermione…” he warned.

“Fine.”

She let out an exasperated breath.

The bus was just a street away so she had no time to waste. She reached for her bag and took out a calling card. She handed it to him and it wasn't until he had read what was on it that he let his grip relax.

It didn't occur to her that she could have just given him a fake number because she was sure that the thought had crossed his mind already.

Besides, the card only had her number on it, so he still had no control over her. He could call and call, but he would never know where to find her.

“Happy now?” she said brusquely, stepping out of the car and immediately waving her arms to the bus driver. Her heart was thumping madly as he saw Harry begin to realize the enormous mistake he had made.

With all the confusion happening around him, Harry slowly realized he had missed a very important detail. It was too late to do anything because the moment he knew how thick he had been, the object of his stupidity had already boarded her escape route.

“Damn.”

--------------------------------------------------

“This would be the third time in two days, Harry.”

Warren didn't have to raise his voice for his mood to become clear. He was beyond anger, and he didn't show it like a normal person. Harry supposed he should be thankful for it, but then again, why would he be?

“Would you care to enlighten me why you suddenly find the urge to kiss a girl you've known for what? 6 hours?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged, although he knew it was not the best move. “I told you, I just wanted to mock them.”

“And instead, you ended up mocking yourself,” Warren sighed as he sat down on his chair, “What do you propose to do now?”

Harry looked at him and shrugged again. “I was hoping you'd know.”

Warren spared Harry a long stare before shaking his head. “I could suggest something, but I doubt you're going to like or agree with it.”

Harry slumped back on his chair. “Let's hear it. I'm fresh out.”

Warren stood up and walked over to his cabinet. He took out a decanter of wine and poured it in two glasses. The anticipation was killing Harry but he dared not to talk. Who knew what his agent could do when he's in the mood to be just about anything he wanted?

He was taking his time sipping the wine that Warren offered, the sweet taste created a smooth path down his throat, calming him a bit. Harry had just taken another swallow when his agent linked his fingers together and cleared his throat.

“I don't suppose you would consider,” he warned, pausing to catch the attention of his client.

“Consider what?”

“Letting this Hermione be your girlfriend.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Oh, Hermione! I'm glad you could come!” Luna exclaimed as she opened her front door, revealing her best friend.

Hermione smiled, reaching over to hug Luna. Her friend urged her to come inside and as she did, she took note of the decorations that were suddenly covering the Weasleys' house from top to bottom.

“The twins have outdone themselves again,” Hermione commented, admiring the glimmering confetti and banners.

“Nothing came from the shop, though,” Luna came forward, her hand resting comfortably on her belly, “Such a shame, really, it would have made the party more interesting.”

Hermione bit back a grin as she thought that nothing could be more interesting than parties thrown by the Weasleys'. But if people weren't careful enough, they were most likely to end up glued to one another. Still, it was comforting that the decorations came from somewhere other than the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was, after all, a celebration for her and her baby, even though she was not yet showing.

“Why wouldn't I have come?” Hermione turned to Luna, suddenly confused by her confusion.

She had to hide her frown when Luna suddenly gave her a mischievous smile.

“I didn't think you would have the energy after last night,” she winked at Hermione before sauntering back toward the kitchen.

“What made you think something happened?” Hermione's heart thudded against her chest but she ignored it as she followed Luna.

“Hi, Hermione!” the twins chorused when they saw her. She had always liked them, with their impish natures; it was just too hard not to find their company very pleasant.

She gave them a jaunty wave before they disappeared yet again to plant something against one of Ron's officemates. Poor fellow. But Hermione didn't want to think about his fate because just about now, hers was in turmoil.

“You didn't call me,” Luna shrugged, but the naughty gleam in her eyes told Hermione that she wasn't as nonchalant as she appeared to be. “And don't bother telling me you forgot because I tried to call you in your landline but the machine picked it up.”

“I was asleep. How was I supposed to know you were calling?” she put in, hoping Luna wouldn't be her intuitive self today.

“Wrong again,” she chirped, buzzing around the kitchen table like a bee, “You didn't sleep at home.”

Hermione's brain froze at the exact moment that Ron appeared. He took one good look at her face and retreated, giving Luna a bemused look.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” Luna asked, tossing her a surprised glance.

“That I slept at his house?” Hermione clarified, barely managing a whisper.

Luna's eyes widened. “You slept at his house?”

Hermione bit her lip as she analyzed the situation. She groaned.

“I figured you were up all night with him, and had slept somewhere else, but I didn't think you actually slept with him!”

“I didn't!” Hermione cried out, but she turned red anyway.

Luna leaned forward and wiggled her brows at Hermione. “So, what's his name?”

Hermione sighed. Luna had always believed what she wanted to believe so it was useless arguing with her over the matter. If she had to go over the details of last night, then she didn't have any choice. Luna was not exactly what you would call meek when it came to tearing secrets from her.

“His name's Harry,” Hermione paused, trying to figure whether it was just her or Luna's eyes jumped at the mention of his name, “Apparently, he's famous, that's why there were photographers last night.”

“Ginny and I figured as much,” Luna nodded, and then she smiled that conspiratorial grin of hers. “So, where did he take you?”

“Somewhere outside London.” Hermione shrugged, recalling the hill where she and Harry had argued. “He left me there actually, when I told him about the dare.”

Luna's eyes grew wide again with shock. “The nerve of that…and then?”

“It started to rain. He was nowhere in sight, so I decided to walk home.” Hermione said. Then she shivered. “But he came back to offer me a ride home.” She recalled the way he manipulated her into coming inside. He might have left her for a few minutes, but that still didn't take away the fact that he had been man enough to rescue her.

Luna clearly relaxed at what she said. “That's good then, but it still doesn't explain the fact that you slept in his house.”

“I was really soaked. He said I needed to change clothes so we stopped by his house,” Hermione shrugged, still feeling uneasy about what happened. She only just had now to think about his gestures. She had interfered in his life, yet he had not been vengeful enough to leave her on her own.

“Was it nice? Harry's house, I mean,” Luna muttered, her eyes twinkling, her lips twitching with laughter. Hermione didn't put anything on the fact that Luna said Harry's name in a familiar way.

“It was…his,” she finished lamely, not knowing what else to say.

“Okay,” Luna nodded, “So why didn't he take you home afterwards?”

Hermione tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, leaning over, “We got to talking,” she muttered, not bothering to expand that detail, “And when we were finished, he noticed that I had a fever. So, he insisted I stay.”

Luna's expression turned from amusement to alarm. “You're sick? Why didn't you tell me? Why are you even here?”

Hermione laughed despite everything else she was feeling. “Relax, Luna. I'm fine now. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

“Well, now that makes me feel a whole lot better,” Luna mumbled, “I'm going to be the death of my friend!”

She was not serious, Hermione noted, so she just laughed at Luna's exaggeration and excused herself to go to the bathroom. She really wasn't feeling well. Not because of her fever the night before, but because of the sudden realization of what she had done.

Harry had been nothing but nice to her ever since they met. Yes, his temper had gotten the better of him a number of times, but he had been good to her. And what had she let herself do?

Leave him to face what her actions had caused.

If he barged in here at this very moment, accusing her of being an ingrate, she wouldn't have blamed him. Not when it was true.

He had simply asked her to convey the truth. But she refused to do it because she didn't want to face the world and let them see how vulnerable she had been to take on a dare that was to prove her worth.

Not that she was proving she was much.

With the way she had acted, she probably wasn't even worth a penny.

Hermione took a deep breath as she faced herself in the mirror. She looked okay, but her insides were a wreck. No matter how much she wanted to remedy the situation, she couldn't.

She had guaranteed that he wouldn't be able to find her.

The card that she had given him was an old one.

During their argument, she had retrieved the card from her bag without realizing that she had her line changed a few weeks before and that the new sets of cards she had ordered had not yet arrived.

It had been an honest mistake.

But he would most likely think she had done it on purpose.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands.

She must seem the worst sort of woman to him by now!

Unless she came to one of his games and approached him directly, she would never be able to see him now.

But if she actually had the nerve to go, would he claim to know her, or would he act as if she was just some deranged fan of his?

The latter was more likely to happen.

She shook her head.

Once the press distributed those pictures, he would have more than one reason to try and find her again. And until that time, she would content herself to believe that nothing ever happened.

But no matter how much she willed herself to behave like it didn't matter, Hermione knew it was impossible to forget the way his green eyes clouded with concern each time he looked at her.

Not to mention the fact that she could still feel the way his arms felt, protecting her when he thought she had been asleep.

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When Hermione got out of the bathroom, there was a racket going on in the living room. She frowned, turning her wrist toward her to look at the time. It was past 3:00, but the party was not to start within another hour.

She frowned in confusion but nevertheless trudged across the hallway.

If the party had already started, then that meant she would have to face the other guests. She wasn't really excited to see the people Luna had invited. They may have already heard of her break up with Lucas. She would be lucky if they hadn't heard of her excursion with Harry yet. She was not yet prepared to deal with either their regrets or their curiosity.

But the noise that was coming from the living room was not exactly what she would call party noise.

It was different.

And with each step she took, the words being uttered became clearer.

She stepped into the living room and her eyes narrowed.

The crowed was small, comprised only of the Weasleys, but their racket was more than she could handle. They were gathered around somebody she could not see. They were quite enthusiastic, and now that Hermione recognized what they were saying, she couldn't help but ask.

“What's going on?”

All of them paused for a moment, belatedly remembering she was present. But before they could say anything, Hermione's eyes darted to the place that had been revealed when the Weasleys parted for her.

She froze on the spot, finding herself the recipient of a very cool stare.

She was not sure whether she could believe it was pure coincidence or fate.

But one thing was for certain.

His eyes were definitely green.

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A/N:

Whew! This was hardest chapter I've ever had to write. The words simply weren't coming! I don't know if it's any good. I just needed to get another chapter out. I'm sorry, really, if it took so long. And I'm sorry as well, if it's not the best that I could have come up with.

Truthfully speaking, I'm running out of ideas. Maybe it's the stress that's causing this. I'm worrying about 6 projects that I have to do before the school year ends and it's really keeping me from being inspired.

I hope you review for this chapter even though it sucks. But please don't tell me it sucks even if it does. Or if you have to, please don't say it directly. I'm afraid I'm going to cry if you do.

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A/N:

I'm back with another update! Yey! Hopefully, this one won't sound as forced as the last one.

Enjoy the chapter!

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“Hermione, dear, you look like you've seen a ghost,” Molly's voice was the first to penetrate the waves of shock that had rippled in Hermione's mind the moment she saw who was causing the commotion.

From Harry's cool gaze, Hermione slowly shifted her eyes to settle them on Molly's warm ones. She looked helplessly at no one in particular, but nobody noticed her expression, save for the last person she wanted to alert.

Unfortunately for her, he was not going to stay idle.

“Hermione,” Harry stepped away from the huddle and approached Hermione, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek.

She wanted to step away, she really did, but Harry's eyes were boring into hers rather threateningly, warning her not to say anything, so she didn't bother. But still, it didn't keep her from throwing him a scathing look.

The Weasleys were, in the simplest of terms, doubtful about the truth of his gesture. Even though they weren't really vocal about it, their lack of words said it all. They were practically gaping at them, with wide eyes, still and unblinking. A gush of wind could have tried to knock them over, but even then, they wouldn't have stirred.

Hermione gave a hiss under her breath, making sure that it was soft enough not to carry across the room, but clear enough to let Harry hear. He was pretty sure she had said “Lucas.”

Harry gave everyone a brief shrug. His plan was officially on the go. He hadn't been planning to start if off so soon, but he hadn't counted on seeing her here either. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with her, but fate was really having a blast pissing both of them.

His coming to Ron's had been an impulse. Warren had convinced him, with few but chosen words, that the only way they could work things out was to have him and Hermione pretend they were really a couple.

Of course, Harry had been adamant at first, explaining that there was no way anybody would believe they were lovers since he just broke up with Sophia, the breakup being a public event that hadn't been missed by those concerned.

But Warren convinced him that something like a secret affair was better than the humiliation of being branded a man whore who randomly picked up someone right after a relationship.

It was a lame excuse, but Harry, with no other explanation to offer himself, reluctantly agreed.

He just hoped by the end of the day, he'd be able to convince the entire family that he and Hermione had been sharing an affair for almost a year now. Perhaps, the only person whom he will not be able to convince would be Ron, who knew what happened the night before, and Luna, who had most likely been the mastermind of that dare.

Luckily, the doorbell rang, snapping everyone out of their entranced state. They scrambled to ready everything else that didn't even need another check. They constantly looked at where he and Hermione were still standing but almost immediately shifted their gazes somewhere else.

It was just as he remembered the Weasleys, Harry thought to himself, amused. They stuck to one another during crisis, so it wasn't really surprising that even in skepticism; they were still willing to go along with whatever harebrained idea Harry had in mind.

Hermione, on the other hand, stood there, still partly surprise, partly nervous of what just happened. In spite of her docile stance, she was fuming inside. Earlier, she had wanted to apologize to Harry for the wrong number, but now that he was here, she couldn't think of anything better to do than toss him out of the Burrow.

She had been prepared for anything but him.

Sadly, even if all she desired was to get away, a hand suddenly clamped down on hers, surprising her into following as she was dragged away from the thickening crowd.

Harry was pulling her towards the stairs, and once they were on the second floor, he threw open the door of one of the rooms and shoved her inside. Hermione looked around.

When the door had been slammed shut by the lord of discretion, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little warm. She should be shivering from the chilly air in the room, but something about the way Harry's eyes were boring into hers took away the coldness and replaced it with something else.

“You little sneak,” he murmured in a low mocking voice, but it was devoid of all accusations.

Hermione's forehead crinkled into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“The number you gave me; it's not yours, is it?”

Hermione huffed out a breath, rolling her eyes at him. “That was a mistake, really. I forgot that I had changed my number and that the calling card I gave you was an old one.”

She could tell by the way he kept changing his stance that he was struggling not to believe her. The sudden appearance of a gleam in his eyes told her he did, but was not about to treat her any better.

Well, Hermione had just had about enough of his temper for one day, and she wasn't going to stick around for another display!

With nothing more than a deliberate shove on his shoulder, Hermione walked past Harry and grabbed the doorknob. Before it could rattle over and give her the escape she desperately craved, Harry's hand clamped rather tightly on the crook of her elbow, pulling her back.

She winced at the discomfort, but didn't bother to fight.

“What are you doing here?” she burst out. “How did you find me?”

Harry simple lifted his brow. “You think I planned this?”

“How else?!”

“Hell, I'm not that desperate,” he muttered, although if you were counting the plan he had officially begun, you would actually say that he was more than just desperate. “Besides, you should have realized the answer by now.”

“You mean to tell me you know the Weasleys?” Hermione looked at him with disbelief.

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

“I've known the Weasleys for a long time; I don't recall them mentioning your name even once,” she crossed her arms and gave him a challenging stance.

Harry imitated her and stood straight, all six feet two inches of him staring down defiantly at her. “Why would they talk about somebody who's not present?”

“That's such a ridiculous excuse,” she huffed out. “If you are that important to them, they would be constantly saying things like `I wonder what Harry's doing now' or `maybe we should give Harry a call.'”

“It's a long story,” Harry muttered. And then held up one finger when she opened her mouth to speak. “Don't bother saying we have time because we don't. We still have a party to attend, remember?”

Hermione's eyes widened at the thought of facing the Weasleys. Even until that moment, she still had no idea why Harry kept on ruining things for her. She began to pace.

“What?”

“Is it your habit to go around kissing people whenever you feel like it?” she blurted out.

Harry expected her outburst so he didn't show any surprise when she questioned him about his motives. “If I tell you about my plan, would you actually listen?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“None whatsoever,” Harry shrugged and took a deep breath. “My agent came up with an idea to get rid of the gossips that would soon be formulated about the two of us.”

“Which you had initiated…” Hermione couldn't help but add.

Harry shot her a look. “If my memory serves me correctly, I believe you were the one who initiated it.”

“All right, maybe I did,” she pouted her lips, the little move forcing him to lower his gaze and stare at her mouth. Luckily, she was too busy trying to look dignified and shift the blame to him so she didn't notice that his attention was elsewhere. “But you didn't have to goad them!”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Whatever.”

Harry sighed and wiped his face with his hand in impatience.

God! This woman was impossible!

“Well?” she pressed.

Harry shot her an annoyed look and opened his mouth to speak but then he paused just as he was about to explain, suddenly unsure of what to say.

A few more seconds passed by when he heard Hermione annoyingly tapping her foot on the wooden floor. She looked at him impatiently. “What?”

“Right now, I'm hearing the plan in my head and I'm just beginning to think it's stupid.”

“If it's that bad, I want to hear it.”

Harry looked at her for a long time before giving in with a resigned sigh. “Warren said that our behavior could be reasoned with if we tell the press that we are actually going out,” Harry said, his eyes looking straight at hers, gauging her reaction.

The look on her face would have been comical, had it not been for him also wearing the same one.

“How can that be reasonable?” Hermione nearly shouted.

“Don't ask me, ask him,” Harry waved to no one in particular. “It was his idea.”

“I'm asking you now how you could have agreed to such an excuse. You and I both know that we just got out of bad relationships. You broke up with your girlfriend two days ago. And I broke up with Lucas just yesterday,” Hermione said. “No one would believe us! Not even the Weasleys do!”

“That's because they know us.”

“And nobody knows you?!” she cried out. “Harry, we're in this mess because people seem to never get tired of following you around, taking pictures of you. You're a celebrity --- I'm sorry I don't know which kind --- but it's pretty obvious you're famous.”

“If I'm famous, then how come you don't know me?” Harry asked.

The question slipped easily from his mouth because he had been pondering on it since the night before and up until now; he had no idea why she didn't know him. Granted that no pictures of him were on the billboards and he hadn't played a game in Europe as of yet, but still, there must have been some leak from the media that would have been enough for her to know what he did.

“I'm not much of a celebrity fan.”

“Whatever.” Harry crossed his arms.

“That is not the point, Harry.” She started to pace. “I apologize for stepping on your big head as well as your over-inflated ego, but the problem here is not whether I know who you are.”

He looked at her as if she'd grown three heads.

Hermione shook her head at him. “You say that we should pretend we're really dating, but that's just not right. Even if people would believe us, would it actually matter? That explanation is not only be stupid, but it would also drag us deeper than where we are already.”

“Who said anything about being right?” Harry interrupted her before she could take another deep breath and continue her tirade. “I just said we would have a reason to give them.”

“And that's it? That's your reason?” Hermione asked. “Couldn't you have come up with another one? One that does not seem so---”

“So what?”

“Awful?” Hermione supplied lamely.

“What's so awful about having a secret affair?”

But even as Harry said this, he had to admit that the taste of the word didn't seem too sweet for him. He abruptly wondered again why he had agreed to this lame-brained excuse Warren had given him, but found nothing worth remembering.

“My point here, Hermione, is those people already believe that something's going on between the two of us,” Harry said. “They just don't know what the story is. They know and would only believe one fact: that we are dating.”

“I don't know, Harry, this is not a good idea.” Hermione shook her head. “And I really don't think people would buy it.”

“The people who bother our lives with petty matters, such as this, are pretty shallow. They'll believe anything, and thrive on the more scandalous.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “If it's such a petty thing, then why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because, like you Hermione, I've found something that I could use to get even.” Harry's eyes glazed and he looked quite murderous, Hermione shivered involuntarily. “And I'm not about to let that go just because it is not right.”

“I am not trying to get even with Lucas. I told you that.”

“You wanted to change so he would know what he missed out on. Trust me, Hermione.” Harry wiggled his brow at her. “It's the same thing.”

“But you and I are so different.”

“Opposites attract, don't they?”

“That's just ridiculous. We don't even have one thing in common!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked her, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Yes, we do.”

“Huh?!”

“We've both been dumped unceremoniously by people who turned out to be not even worth one second of our time. We've been thick enough to do unnecessary and stupid things in the past 24 hours. And,” Harry wagged a finger at her. “We're both stuck in the mess we've created for ourselves. I'd say that's more than one thing in common.”

“You know that's not what I mean,” Hermione said, and then her eyes turned weary. “Besides, who would believe you preferred me over---”

“Sophia?”

“Right---Sophia.” Hermione nodded. “I'm nobody.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I'm somebody.”

Hermione was almost sure her jaw dropped.

“See?” He gestured towards himself and then to her. “Opposites attracting.”

Catching her scornful look, Harry threw back his head and laughed, although it did sound a bit hollow. “You know I'm kidding, don't you?”

“Secrets are always revealed, Harry.” She reminded him, ignoring his previous remark.

Harry looked at her over a long period of time before taking a deep breath. He reached out and took her hand. “What have you got to lose, Hermione?”

And it was in this position that Ron suddenly chose to open the door and poke his head in. The corner of his mouth lifted when he saw the two of them, but he didn't look as if he found anything unusual.

“What?!”

They both snapped.

“What are you two doing?” Ron asked. “Whatever you're planning, conclude it now. Luna's beside herself.”

“Worrying?” Hermione looked at Ron in disbelief, oblivious to the fact that Harry was still holding her hand.

“No,” Ron said, looking thoughtful. “She's actually excited.”

“Over what?”

He shrugged.

“Right.” Hermione slowly nodded, suddenly feeling she'd been duped by a certain blonde and a devious red-head last night.

“Give us a second, mate,” Harry murmured in a clipped tone.

“Okay,” Ron said briskly. “I'll go do something.”

Both of them turned to watch Ron as he removed his head between the door and its frame and shut the door with a loud bang. When they heard his footsteps retreating, Harry turned to look at Hermione.

“Now, Hermione,” he began again. “What have you got to lose?”

Actually, was she to actually think about it, she would nothing else left to lose. But to admit that would mean conceding to his idea, and she was not going to allow it.

“Well? What would you lose that you haven't already lost?”

“Something!” Hermione exclaimed when she couldn't find any answer to his question. “Harry, listen to me. Deceiving everybody---”

“Except for three people---Warren, Ron and Luna know.”

“Yes, and I suspect Ginny knows, too,” Hermione muttered, raking a hand through her hair. “But deceiving the rest would include a lot of consequences. Especially when people discover what a hoax our relationship would be. Do you know what we'd do when that happens?

“If they find out, Hermione.” Harry corrected. “After the scandal dies down, we'll have a nice, clean break up.” He caught the look Hermione gave him. “What? You didn't think we'd continue to date after everything's settled, did you?”

“N-no.” Hermione's answer faltered. She hoped he didn't hear the tentative note in her voice.

Harry was not sure whether he had offended Hermione or not. But knowing that they'd only met last night and she had not harbored any positive feeling for him just yet, he suspected that it was nothing.

“Well?” Harry prodded.

Hermione bit her lip.

She's thinking again, Harry thought.

“What do you say?” he asked.

She seemed to be looking everywhere but at him. He reached over and caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you say?” he asked again.

She was staring defiantly at him now, her eyes cutting him open. And then she turned her face away. “No.”

Harry frowned.

“What? Why?”

“As much as I would like to help you out of this mess, Harry, I can't.” Hermione walked away from him, increasing the distance that was suddenly suffocating her. “Your plan is too absurd and I---I don't think I can keep it a secret.”

Harry sighed.

He wasn't surprised that she did not agree as readily as he wanted her to.

Hell, he didn't even give in the first time himself.

If she had accepted immediately, Harry believed he would have been more shocked. Perhaps because though he knew little of her, he knew enough to expect that she wouldn't do things that were totally out of her control---except perhaps the dare she had ridiculously done.

But seriously, Hermione didn't strike him as the type who made decisions irrationally.

She must have been desperate the night before to have suggested to her friends---whom he was now quite sure was Luna and Ginny---that a dare might be enough to change her into something she wasn't.

And if it weren't for her vulnerable state right now, he would have continued to change her mind. But since, he knew that she not up to the task any more than he was, he let it go.

“I have to go back to the party,” Hermione muttered. “Luna's waiting for me.”

Harry sighed.

Now what was he going to do? He asked himself as he saw Hermione clutch the doorknob. Immediately, he grew weary.

Was he going to run after her? And why was he even considering that, after deciding he was read to let her go?

Besides, their conversation had put an end to any possibility that she would be doing her part anyway. So, it wouldn't matter if he caught her, she would just simply turn herself away.

Except, because she's the key to the solution, it would not work if she didn't cooperate. But how was he to make her understand that?

He was saved from answering his own question when his phone rang. Out of annoyance, Harry didn't bother looking at who was calling him, He simply flipped the phone open and answered.

The last person he was expecting to call was on the other end of the line.

“Sophia.”

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Hermione was in the process of turning the knob open when she heard Harry's voice behind her.

He wasn't speaking to her, nor did she think for one moment that he was. It was another name she had heard him call. And it was more than enough for him to stop.

Sophia.

The way he had said the name, almost as if he was caressing a favorite toy or a long lost pet, caused a pang of regret in Hermione's heart. Not because she was jealous, but because she did not know what else to feel.

She might have left him to speak to his ex-girlfriend in private, but found out that her curiosity was strong enough to make her abandon courtesy and stay.

She slowly turned around to look at Harry. She was taken aback by the sudden change in his face. It was as if a different man was standing before her. He looked to have age ten years in just the extent of one second. If this was what a phone call could do to him, how much more when he had seen Sophia with that husband of hers.

Harry's face was taut, his expression guarded. She had never seen him like this.

Lost and uncertain.

He had been trying to mask away his feelings by being aggressive and bright. He had been able to fool her in the beginning, but each minute spent him with revealed what he had been trying hard not to show.

Even now, when it was clear that he was affected by the call, Hermione was unsure whether he could deal with it on his own.

But then his eyes, the ones she could clearly read in heartbeat, although she had no idea nor any intention of finding out why, were as vivid and as plain to understand as ever.

She didn't know what made her do it, but in the next instant, she was beside him, lightly rubbing his back.

If he was surprised by the touch, he didn't show it. He merely glanced at her absentmindedly, tilted one corner of his lips and then resumed his conversation.

She couldn't hear what either of them was saying, but she could hear the anguish in his voice. Immediately, her heart went out to him a thousand times stronger than before. She had no right to judge this Sophia, but the woman did not have the right to do what she did to Harry either, so she might as well say, in her mind at least, that the woman was a bitch.

When the call had ended and Harry had closed his cell phone, Hermione retreated, staring at him with uncertainty.

Strangely enough, Harry found himself longing for her comfort a little bit longer. But he didn't make a move to indicate what he desired in fear of scaring Hermione. So he just rubbed his forehead to ease the ache that had made its way to his head during the conversation.

He felt he owed her a little bit of explanation.

“That was Sophia.”

As if he needed to tell her.

“I know.”

The question hung in midair. She didn't ask because she knew the heavy feeling in his chest would compel him to say.

“She said she'd dropped off some stuff at my house.”

Hermione nodded, knowing full well how that signified the finality of their break up. Not that his ex marrying the guy was not already a symbol.

“I'm really sorry, Harry,” Hermione muttered.

“Not your fault.” She heard him mutter.

Now what was she supposed to do?

She couldn't very well stay here even though she knew he was in need of company.

It was not her place to do so.

They'd only met last night and during that short span of time, had managed to trouble each other out in more ways than one. Although that gave a slight connection to his life, it was not enough to consider her his friend and to give her that obligation of staying until he felt better.

“Would you be all right by yourself?”

Harry nodded, without a hint of hesitation, before flopping himself down onto the bed nearest him.

Hermione gave him a worried look one last time and stepped out. The door closed behind her, lightly blocking the sound of a cell phone that was just starting to ring.

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“Hello?” Harry answered, although truth be told, he had no idea how he even got to flipping it open. All the energy had been drained out of him because of the call he had inadvertently taken without looking at the one who was calling.

But then, even if he had been able to see, wouldn't he have answered her anyway?

He had to admit.

He missed her.

Everything about her, he couldn't help but think about. And just the thought of her, with somebody else, still hurt. The memories he had been so adamant in concealing had come rushing in just because he had heard her voice.

Despite the fact that he was having this unusual attraction for Hermione, Sophia was still the one plaguing his thoughts every now and then.

He'd nearly gone insane the moment he heard somebody talk in the background. It was a simple but direct reminder of what happened between the two of them. And he couldn't have been angrier at her for that!

There had been no doubt who the guy had been.

Anybody in their right mind would have guessed correctly.

Of course it was Greg!

Why wouldn't Sophia be with her husband?

God!

Just the word had him wishing he had a knife in his hands. Not for him, but for the two of them! He needed to release his anger, but at the same time, he wanted to calm down. He would have, had it not been for Hermione's reluctance. He would have asked her to keep talking to him, but that would have just made her more hesitant. That was the reason he let her leave. He didn't want her to feel as if she were obliged to keep him company. But then, if his phone hadn't rung, he would have called her back and asked her to stay.

The reminder that he still had somebody on the line caused Harry to jerk out of his stupor.

“What happened?” Warren's voice came when Harry answered. “Shall I call for the press meeting now?”

“No.” Harry shook his head regretfully, although he didn't know what exactly it was he was lamenting about. “I don't think that would be necessary.”

“She didn't agree?”

“I told you she wouldn't,” Harry mumbled.

“Can't you talk to her a little bit more?”

“There's nothing more I can do.” Harry shook his head. “She's made up her mind.”

“You do know that because of this, you'd have to explain to the press what happened.”

“Yes, I do.” He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I'll come up with something once I've got a good night's sleep.”

“You don't intend to tell the press the truth?”

“Why should I?” Harry asked, straightening. “It won't do anybody good if I tell them what really happened.”

“It was a dare, Harry,” Warren said matter-of-factly. “If you tell this to the press, you won't have a hard time convincing them you were the victim this whole time.”

Harry frowned. He wasn't exactly the victim, was he? The scandal was as much his fault as it was Hermione's.

“No, Warren.” Harry switched the phone to his other ear. “She's got too much on her mind right now to deal with this. Let me handle it. I'm used to critics anyway.”

“Why are you defending her? She's the one who brought all these to you. Shouldn't she be the one having a hard time saving herself?”

“Look, when I say leave Hermione out of this, leave her out of it, understand? I can fix this by myself.”

“Whatever, Harry.” From the indifferent tone his agent suddenly used, Harry could tell Warren didn't like being told what to do. “But just so you know, the sports commissioner has seen the videos and the pictures. He already called me to say he is expecting your explanation within the next 24 hours. And, Harry, he emphasized the word “good” when he was asking for your reasons.”

“And if I don't present him one?” Harry asked, although he was already sure what the consequences would be, having been warned before what one more scandal could do to his career.

“You know what will happen.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry sighed. “I'm off the team.”

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It was a half hour later that both Harry and Hermione were seen mingling with the guests at the burrow. They weren't together, of course, nor had they shown any sign of actually wanting to even stand beside each other.

Both were trying hard not to even breathe the same air that everybody else did.

The whole thing must have been a trivial matter to everybody, more specifically the Weasleys, who had witnessed earlier the affectionate greeting that Harry had bestowed on Hermione upon his arrival.

What had caused the sudden disposition of the two had heads leaning in and mouths whispering. However, these actions were only done by the Weasleys, not by the rest of the visitors, who were completely oblivious to what was happening.

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After talking to some people, explaining in very few words his sudden disappearance, Harry excused himself from the crowd and chose to stand at the farthest corner of the room where the gifts were stacked. He had been content in his position, sipping beer, until people he did not know suddenly started to come, asking him for an autograph or requesting for a snapshot to be taken with him.

Even without his image up on billboards or his face flashed on screen, it was little wonder how people knew him.

The team he was in, or had been in, considering that he was about to be evicted, was very vocal about who they were recruiting. For months now, they had been allowing the press to take pictures of Harry for a monthly update on his training.

But the publication in which his images were printed was only disseminated in some chosen parts of England. His training took place outside London, and the only reason he had come back the other night was because he couldn't stomach staying with the rest of his team members, who had clearly sided on Greg the moment Harry took a swing at him.

It figured that they stuck to him because he was their teammate longer than Harry was.

This reminded him that his first game was tomorrow.

That was, if he could come up with a good explanation to give to the commissioner before the game began.

He no longer harbored any hope that Hermione would come up to him, accepting his proposal. Hell, he didn't even believe himself that they could have pulled it off together without either of them giving in at the end.

Perhaps it was better that they just let each other be.

Out of the corner of his eye, and despite his intentions, he saw her talking to some of her friends. She was smiling, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Why, he almost asked, but stopped himself before he could concern himself over her any further.

Why the hell should he care?

It wasn't as if she couldn't handle herself alone.

Shaking his head, he looked away and decided to spend his afternoon outside, but was waylaid when three pretty but too aggressive women came up to him, cornering him with their giggles and suggestive eyes.

He inwardly sighed.

This was only one of the prices he paid for having entered such a chaotic world!

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Behind her, Hermione could hear some women talking rather loudly to Harry. It wasn't as if she had been watching him, but one cannot simply ignore his presence when he's there.

That was one thing that infuriated and thrilled Hermione at the same time.

The man exuded such masculinity, that forgetting he was there would seem so much of a crime.

And the gossips roaming around were not helping her either.

Though they were not about her and just about Harry, how could she not think about it or about him when secretly, she knew that somehow, sooner or later, those gossips would involve her?

Thankfully, the news of their escapade last night and this morning hadn't reached her acquaintances yet, or she would have had a hard time dealing with them now. But, with the way their conversation was suddenly going, Hermione almost wished that they knew so that they would stop pestering her about her relationship, and not only the one that had recently gone wrong.

She would have preferred spite over their pity, but the problem was, her “friends” were completely oblivious to the idea of subtlety and sensitivity.

“She is pretty. Yes I remember her. She is a model, right, Hermione? I remember seeing her in one of the fashion shows I attended last week. That reminds me. I saw Lucas there as well. Hmm. I thought something was going but then, who would have guessed I was right?” Lavender Brown, a long time friend of Luna and Ginny from Hogwarts University, said. Her eyes were full of pity as they shifted to rest on Hermione. “What was her name anyway?”

Hermione pretended to look confused. “I don't remember.”

“And that would be for the best, Hermione. And if I were you, I won't even pay attention to the guy. He is such a git.” Padma Patil, another friend, said loyally.

“But a good-looking git,” her twin couldn't help but interject.

Even Hermione had a hard time denying that.

It was true, after all.

Of all the guys she had dated, Lucas was by far the better looking. Perhaps it was because he made so much effort over his looks more than he had ever made time for her that he came out looking the way he did.

He was tall, handsome, and educated. Everything she wanted for in a man. It was almost as if she had purchased him from dreamland. If only he didn't turn out to be such a nightmare.

“Seamus told me he overheard him talking to his friends, about you not---you know.”

“Uh-huh.” Hermione nodded her head absentmindedly. She was so not in the mood to talk about her inactive sex life with these people.

Yes, yes, they were being overly concerned over her, but the fact was, she didn't want nor did she need sympathy. She had had enough of those to last her a lifetime.

Who wouldn't?

Every break up she had had to endure over the years had entailed a lot of sympathy cards, sensitive smiles and pitiful company. She didn't need anymore to prove how unstable she was when it came to relationships.

It took her a while to realize that it wasn't her or her relationships that was the topic of the conversation. It was only when somebody mentioned Harry's name that she became fully aware of what they were talking about.

“He sure has changed.” Lavender piped in, looking very much charmed as the rest of the women who had suddenly acknowledged Harry's presence. “I remember him running around Hogwarts with Ron. They used to get in so much trouble; I always wondered when they would be expelled.”

“Yes, well, the headmaster was very much fond of Harry, if you could also recall that.” Elizabeth Fielding managed to say in a breathless whisper.

“I hear he's playing soccer now.”

Hermione's head whipped about to look at Harry herself.

Oh, she thought, that's what he's famous for.

“Is he any good?” Lavender asked.

“He wouldn't have been recruited if he weren't.”

“That's right. Carter told me about it.” Julia Shepburn inched closer. “He's subscribed to this sports magazine, and they feature Harry every month or so. I think it's been a year since he was recruited and they'd been training him for the playoffs. There's a game outside London. Tomorrow, I think. And it would be Harry's first game ever.”

Not that he will ever get to play, Hermione thought tearfully.

Now that the conversation had been shifted to another topic, she couldn't say she was very pleased at where it had ended. It did nothing more than remind her of the conversation she had inadvertently heard when she left Harry earlier.

He had defended her against his agent, and had acquitted her from the fault that should have been hers to admit. All because he knew she was having a hard time with her break up with Lucas.

She shouldn't have been moved, perhaps because he was a gentleman and it was expected of him, but she was.

He was willing to risk his career for her, when she was the one who should be taking the risk. He didn't ask for her to come into his life; it was she who came barging in. That fact had been staring at her face the entire time; it was a shame, really, that she was just able to see it now.

If she had realized it sooner, she could have still saved him from the trouble that he was facing now.

But the question was, did he even care whether he would lose the contract? How important was soccer to him anyway? Maybe it wasn't that important, that's why he was willing to keep her uninvolved with the scandal.

“Such a sweet thing, really.”

“I agree.”

“What?” Hermione had caught the end of the sentence, but had been completely unaware of what had preceded it. “What's sweet?”

“Why he's playing soccer now.”

It was an ironic thing, to have an answer for a question that she had not even dared to ask. Hermione merely inclined her head, feigning indifference, certain that the pure desire of a gossip would make anybody talk.

“His father was also soccer player. But Harry never knew him. Both his parents died when he was younger, murdered by some robbers.” Parvati had still not taken her eyes off Harry. “In one of his interviews, he was asked what made him decide to play. Harry said that it's the only way he could be closer to his father than he could ever hope to be.”

Drat.

What was she supposedto say to that?

She felt sick and dazed, unsure of what to do.

“Would you excuse me for a minute?”

She muttered before walking away.

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Harry had just about enough squeals and giggles for the day and excused himself from the women who had cornered and had sucked the breath out of him. Only, he wasn't that lucky.

“Ladies, would you excuse me for a moment? I feel the need for some fresh air.” Then, thinking that he might have sounded as if he was suffocating over their presence, which he really was, but was too kindhearted to let them know, he added. “It's been a while since I've been back and I've missed this place.”

A hand grabbed his arm, forcing him to look back.

“Would you like me to keep you company?”

One of them batted her eyelashes at him, smiling invitingly.

He was not really foreign to such advances, but there was not enough energy in him to think of a gentle set down. He had tried everything he could to show them that he was not in the mood for company, but they had stuck to his side like leeches.

He had given all the innuendos he could come up with, and had even resorted to a direct `no' to an absurd request, but it seemed that the more he hesitated, the more aggressive they became as if he were a conquest to be won.

And in the end, when all he wanted was to really get away, he did the only thing he could do, which was invent an imaginary person whom he could conjure in the next minute or so, for as long as he could get away without any harm.

“I'm terribly sorry, but I'm meeting someone.”

Now all he had to do was find that someone.

The one who had asked him, pouted, her full red lips displayed for any person to see, bright enough to shock anyone who would look. Harry vaguely wondered whether Luna was really friends with her or she was just one of those party-crashers he saw in movies.

But then again, it wasn't really that surprising, since Luna seemed to have a penchant for oddities, not that he will ever mention that to Ron without getting himself kicked in the butt.

“Oh?” She purred, almost as if challenging his word. He couldn't blame her though, he didn't look like a man besotted. He simply looked like a man who wanted to get away. “Would you like me to get her for you?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but a different sound came out.

“That won't be necessary,” a voice behind him said. “I'm already here.”

He turned around, knowing full well who had spoken.

There wasn't any time to react to his savior, however, because she had closed the distance between the two of them in a span of heartbeat.

His hand was tingling from where she had laced their fingers together.

“Where have you been?” she kissed him on the cheek. “I've been waiting for you.”

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A/N:

Wow, a long chapter! I didn't expect this. I hope I didn't bore you or anything. I hope you like where things are going. Hahaha! Now that I'm done with this, I'll have fun writing the pretend part. I've always wanted to do that kind of scene. Ooh, I'm getting excited.

Tell me what you think. Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you leave another one after this.

Wait.

I have another thing to say.

I've recently posted another story, Twist Through Time, and it's the first story I've ever finished in my entire life. It's already on its fourth chapter, and so far, it's not rating well.

I have an idea why, though.

The plot's a bit immature and not well-written. And the characters seemed to have interchanged personalities.

But the fact is, I know it will get better. I sincerely hope you give it the support that you have been giving my other stories, most especially Dare Me.

I'm not asking you to like it, but please check it out. If you don't find the story favorable, that's all right. I won't mind.

Anyway, this is all about I can say for now. I'll be updating Caught in the Past next. That should be an easy one. This is all for now. See ya!

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