Author's Note: Hey all! I'm back with a new *completed* fic! Yes, you read that right. This fic was written for Strictly Dramione's Summer Love Fest and is complete, to be shared in 8 parts. I'll update every Saturday until the fic is complete.

Updated 10/6/18: Thank you so much to TheOtterAndTheDragon for her wonderful beta work on this fic. She is truly a gem to work with! Just a quick warning before we get started: this will contain my first ever lemon in later chapters. Please be gentle. I'm super nervous about sharing this with you all!

On to the fic! Reviews are love!

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Hermione Granger had overestimated Ronald Weasley's emotional capacity when she compared it to a teaspoon. She groaned and threw down the Daily Prophet, on which photos of Ron with a beautiful, leggy blonde were splashed across the cover. She wasn't going to begrudge Ron his happiness, but did he have to have his successful love life splashed all over the covers of every gossip rag in the wizarding world?

Ron's propensity for publicity was what had driven a wedge between them in their relationship. She wanted a quiet, peaceful relationship, but Ron had been keener to drag them out to meet the photographers that had followed them everywhere they went. Not her cup of tea.

With a sigh, Hermione stood from her chair and stretched, hands high over her head. Though it was a Saturday morning, she always got a head start on her day. As her mother always said, the early bird got the worm, and Hermione was determined to catch every opportunity she could. She bent down to retrieve the lukewarm cup of coffee that rested beside the discarded newspaper when the Floo roared to life behind her and startled her into dropping the mug onto her big toe.

"Ow, fucking hell. Bugger," Hermione groaned, examining her toe to ensure that nothing was broken. Her disturber chuckled behind her, leaning down to pick up the mug from where it rolled under the chair. Despite the years since the war, Hermione's heart sped into overdrive when she realized it was Harry that had interrupted her early morning.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name are you doing over at six in the morning? Is everything okay? Do you need help—"

Harry stopped her by forcefully shoving the mug into her hand, summoning the coffee pot and another mug, and refilling both their cups. "I'm fine. You're fine. Everything is just—" he sighed, dropping his head to the back of the couch he'd plopped on. "Fine."

Though Hermione had been wallowing in her own woes this morning, she instantly switched into go-getter mode. If she were upset, she'd sweep it under the rug to deal with later. If Harry was upset, she could fix that. She'd always been good at fixing other people's problems. Fixing her own required her to first face her problems and then deal with them. Not gonna happen this morning.

She sat up in her chair, placing the mug to the side once more. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry grimaced, wiping a hand over his face. "Ginny broke it off."

"She what?!" Hermione nearly screeched, causing Harry to glare at her. Though her flat wasn't a shoebox, it wasn't nearly big enough to accommodate such shouting, especially so early in the morning.

He cleared his throat. "We've been on the rocks for a while. I didn't want to bother anyone with it." He shrugged. "It just seemed like one of those things that we could work through. I didn't realize that those weeks of her sleeping on the couch would actually be the end of us."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Harry kept going. "I mean, I knew it wasn't healthy, but I didn't know what to do! It's not like I've got great examples. The Dursleys were nightmares; Molly and Arthur are great, but I haven't been around them for any longer than a few months on holiday; and you and Ron—" Harry screeched to a halt, instantly recognizing his mistake.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "And Ron and I ended in an implosion of epic proportions, complete with me quite literally sending him out the door on his arse." Hermione looked up at Harry from beneath her lashes, bursting into laughter as they both remembered the Final Fight, as they'd termed it.

For their anniversary, Ron had made plans to take Hermione to a fancy new French restaurant in Diagon Alley that Fleur had opened to supplement Bill's income and curb her boredom. She'd dressed in a beautiful deep purple gown that had complemented her skin tone and brought out her eyes, and she'd even let Ginny tame her curls into a low chignon. Ginny completed the look with a subtle smoky eye and dangly silver earrings. She had stared at her reflection in the mirror, dumbfounded and barely recognizing herself and shook herself out of it when she heard Ron calling for them to leave.

Ron apparated them to the opposite end of Diagon Alley, forcing the couple to walk through the streets in their evening wear, much to Hermione's displeasure. The press, however, loved it. Hermione gripped Ron's hand tighter, practically dragging him down the alley as he hammed it up for the photographers while she tried to smother her irritation. It was, after all, just like Ron. Outside the restaurant, he pulled her back and lowered her into a dramatic dip, kissing her rather intimately. Hermione pulled out of his embrace, nearly falling to the concrete, and marched in to demand the maître d seat them immediately at their reserved table.

Ron, true to form, asked for a table near the giant plate windows instead of a romantic, secluded table near the back. After a dinner of Ron's ego being stroked by photographers and Hermione downing glass after glass of expensive chardonnay that did nothing to calm her anger and everything to stoke the simmering rage in her stomach, Hermione apparated them back to the flat. Though they had both talked about returning to Hogwarts after the war, they'd decided against it; they each took their NEWTs and moved in together. As Hermione slammed her clutch down on their kitchen table, Ron cleared his throat and said, "Well, I think I'll just head to bed."

Hermione had lost her wits at that and launched into a tirade. She still couldn't remember everything she'd said in her blind rage, but she distinctly remembered Ron forcing out a Patronus to summon Harry to come play referee. Harry had, of course, been late to help out and had only stepped through the Floo as Hermione had cast a Levicorpus at Ron and launched him out the front door. With a flick of her wand, she'd transfigured an old blanket into a box, and all of Ron's belongings had zipped into it and followed him out the door.

Harry was guffawing as he tried to speak. "Do— do you remember the look on his face when the door slammed shut?"

"Like I had told him his mother's food tasted like ash and I was actually a hippogriff masquerading as a woman?" Hermione dissolved into giggles. "I remember it quite clearly." She reached for her cup and took a sip as Harry's laughter subsided. Silence reigned for a few minutes before Hermione said, "So, what happened?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. "I asked her what was wrong, why she's been sleeping on the couch. She said she wasn't happy anymore."

"She hasn't seemed off lately, though," Hermione mused.

"Yeah, but you know Ginny. She's good at hiding how she feels unless she wants you to know. Out of all of us, she was definitely most likely to end up in Slytherin." Harry toyed with the rim of the coffee mug, staring into it pensively. "The spark was gone, if it was ever there after the war. I think—" he stopped and took a breath. "I think I've known for a while that this was coming. That's why I didn't ask her about it. I didn't want to know."

"Ignorance is bliss," Hermione whispered softly. Harry looked up and nodded slightly, a pained smile on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." He shook his head wistfully. Hermione couldn't help the pang she felt. She'd always thought Ginny and Harry were It. He'd loved her so fiercely when they were kids that she thought that they would be together forever. "So, we fought for a bit, and she accused me of being daft and told me to Floo her when I figure out what I really want."

Hermione nodded a bit. "It could have been worse."

Harry grimaced and pointedly avoided her eyes.

At that, Hermione's brows rose. "It was worse?"

"It— we—" Harry trailed off. "I'm not sure that I should tell you this, Hermione."

She shrugged, draining the rest of the coffee in her mug. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." She stood from her chair, going to the kitchen to rinse out the mug.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you; I just don't want you to think badly of Ginny or me. Besides, we both made the decision."

She set the mug down on the countertop and turned slowly to face Harry. He was leaning on the opposite side of her breakfast bar, chin in his hands and studiously avoiding her gaze by examining the tiled backsplash. With one big gust, he said, "GinnywantedtobringanotherwomanintothebedroomtospicethingsupandIsaidno."

Hermione took a moment to process what Harry said then started giggling. Harry's head snapped up, and his jaw dropped. "This— it's not funny! This is a very serious situation, and… and I wasn't' comfortable with another woman in the room! I mean, it's Ginny! I didn't think she'd ever want to have someone else there! And…"

"Harry, I think you are one of the only males in this entire world who would turn down a threesome with two women. Ginny is one of the most adventurous people I know. Don't you think that would also extend to the bedroom?"

The tips of Harry's ears turned pink as he spluttered, "Well no, I obviously did not."

Hermione smiled affectionately. "Oh, Harry." She placed the mug in the sink. "Do you think it'll work out?"

"See, that's the thing," he said slowly. "I'm not sure there's anything to work out."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, so she waited.

"See, I thought I'd be upset. You remember how I was when she dated Dean and all those guys at Hogwarts." Hermione nodded, and he continued. "It's just that, this time, I'm almost relieved. Like there was a weight on my chest, and I've finally gotten it off. I shouldn't feel relieved to be broken up, should I?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's up to you to decide. How does Ginny feel about it?"

Harry laughed. "Well, apparently she's had a thing for one of the players for the Holyhead Harpies, and she met her at a pub when she was out with George last weekend. I guess they hit it off and the woman asked her on a date. She didn't say yes at the time, but they exchanged information and have been owling back and forth since. I guess Ginny talked to her after we called things off, and she said she was going to go on a date with her if I was okay with it. Strangely, I am." He looked up at Hermione. "I'm sad it didn't work out, relieved for it to be over, and happy for her. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Not at all. It makes you an emotionally mature adult," Hermione answered. "Look how much you've grown! At Hogwarts, you would have been silently brooding over it all the time."

He grinned at her and came around the corner, embracing her. "And you would have killed me for making a cheap shot at your failed romance with Ron."

Hermione pinched his side, and he danced away from her, chuckling. "Watch yourself, Potter. It's still a possibility."

Harry looked contrite. "I am sorry for saying that. It wasn't fair. Besides, you already get enough hell about it with his escapades plastered all over the newspapers."

Hermione turned away, once more back to the frame of mind she had been in before Harry had unceremoniously interrupted her morning. She tried not to dwell on her former relationship with Ron often. It wasn't like they were on bad terms; after a month of ignoring each other, Ron had apologized for being a prat, and they were once again friends. They worked better that way. That didn't mean that she couldn't feel a little burned about his quick rebound sometimes.

"You know what you need?" Harry asked, following Hermione to the couch and plopping down on it. Hermione bit her lip to refrain from chastising him when he kicked his heels up onto her—very recently cleaned—coffee table.

"No, Harry, I don't know what I need," she sighed.

She could see Harry's devious grin spread across his cheeks from the corner of her eye. "You need a night out. Come to the pub with me and the guys!"

"I don't know, Harry." She worried the arm of the couch beside her. "You know that I've been trying to avoid the public as much as I can. Skeeter is still gunning to get me into an interview about the breakup. Even threatening her with the jar isn't working this time."

Harry's brow arched. "Wow, that serious, huh?"

"That serious." She nodded. "There's not much I can control about how Ron is depicted in the papers, but I can control what they say about me. I'd prefer not to have my drunken escapades splashed all over the cover of the Prophet for everyone to see. I can just see the headline now: 'Heartbroken Heroine turns to Hedonistic Lifestyle!' No, thank you."

"Understandable. So, what's the plan?"

She gnawed at her lip, torn with her answer. She enjoyed her job at the Ministry; she worked as the Dragon Unit liaison and was currently working on some legislation to curb potentially dangerous methods of gathering dragon horns from live dragons. She went to work and came home fulfilled but exhausted every day, but something was still missing from her routine. Since Crookshanks had passed away, her flat felt too large and lonely, but she'd been reluctant to try again after Ron burned her.

"I've been thinking about dating again," she started. She tacked on a hasty "casually!" when Harry leaned forward with interest.

"Ooh, have you?" Harry asked. "Hold on, let me get this right." He leaned back on the couch and screwed up his face comically.

Hermione burst into laughter. "Harry, what on Earth are you doing?"

He held up a finger at her as he adjusted his posture and crossed one leg over the other. "There. I'm channelling my inner Ginny, so you feel more comfortable talking to me about dating. Would it help if I pursed my lips into a sultry pout or am I good like this?" He batted his eyelashes at her but ducked when Hermione whacked him with a pillow.

"Alright, alright! I'm done," he sputtered out between laughs. "It's just that you've never really talked to me about dating before, so I didn't know what to do!"

Hermione chuckled. "While I appreciate the effort, you can sit like a normal human being and just listen to me."

"Oh, thank Merlin," he sighed as he uncrossed his legs and resumed his slouched position. "I don't know how you guys sit like that all the time. I think I squashed something."

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm still friends with you," Hermione sighed. "Yes, I'm going to start dating again. It's just—" she stopped, unsure how to phrase what she'd been mulling over the last couple of weeks.

"It's just?" Harry prompted.

"I just don't know how to date people. My limited dating experience stems solely from Hogwarts, and it's not like I can really say I dated anyone there. Viktor pursued me, and Ron and I just kind of fell together." She paused again. "I also don't want to date just any stranger. I'd like to date someone that I have something in common with, you know?"

Harry nodded while Hermione ploughed onward. "I mean, we went through a war, for Merlin's sake! And I know everyone in the Wizarding World went through the same war, but it's a little different for those of us that actually fought in the war."

"So, let me get this straight. You want to date someone who went through the war and is equally as messed up as you are, so you can both what? Relive the trauma of war together?" Harry's brows were slanted downward.

Hermione scoffed. "No, Harry. I want to date someone who understands what it's like to go through a war and be forever changed by it, so they don't freak out if I have a hard time committing right away."

She shrugged. It all seemed very logical to her. She and Ron had worked together for a while because they already knew everything about each other. She knew that Ron perpetually missed the hamper with his dirty clothes. She knew that he would rather allow himself to air dry after a shower than towel off. She also knew that he preferred both butter and blackberry jam on his toast in the mornings, and he always "accidentally" burned their bacon because he liked his charred.

What she didn't know at the time was that she needed someone that she could talk through the war with. Ron swept everything under the rug; he tried to move on as soon as possible and put everything in the past. He'd mourned for Fred, of course, but even that was a removed mourning that she could have no part in. He built up walls around himself, so he wouldn't have to deal with the pain of reliving the horrors they witnessed. For Ron, thinking of the war automatically made him think of all the loved ones that had been ripped from them. He saw each of their faces and mourned them all over again. He wouldn't allow her to talk him through the nights that he woke up with a start and reached for his wand. Instead, he'd get out of bed and nurse the ache with a finger or two of whiskey.

Hermione, however, needed someone that understood both the trauma of the war and her deep-seated need to talk it out. There were so many things that she needed to talk about, but she'd been denied that opportunity by Ron. Five years post-Battle of Hogwarts, and she still couldn't sleep through the night sometimes. She still cringed away from women with manes of unruly black curls on the street. She needed someone who would help her heal, and in doing so, help themselves heal by talking about their own problems.

She could also use someone who knew what they were doing in the sack and who wasn't satisfied with chasing their own release and leaving her wanting.

Harry forced her attention back to him. "Well, it's not like we can get all of us single, war-ravaged young adults into a room to figure out who works best with who like some lonely hearts club meeting." Harry shrugged, but the statement reverberated in Hermione's head. "Besides, there's not many people who are exactly willing to revisit the war, Hermione. The five-year anniversary is coming up, so I'm sure Hogwarts will have something to commemorate the losses, but—"

Hermione started to tune Harry out, her mind going a mile a minute. She shot up and began pacing around the room, desperate to move to keep up with her racing thoughts. Harry had fallen silent as he watched her pace, bewilderment causing him to cock his head to one side.

Hermione spun around to face him, placing her hands on her hips. "That's just it, though! We can get everyone in a room together to see who works best together. Or, at least, we can try to get everyone in a room together." She crossed the room and slumped down on the couch beside Harry, summoning a quill and parchment. She began to frantically scribble across the page.

"I'm not sure I follow." Harry peered over her shoulder. "Approximately ten chairs, a timer. Hermione, what are you planning?"

She shushed him and kept writing, peering off into space for a few moments before she resumed her frantic scribbles. After about ten minutes, during which Harry surveyed the books on her shelf, Hermione dropped her quill and surveyed the parchment. Harry's voice called her over to her bookshelf.

"Hey, 'Mione, what's this?" Harry held up a tattered old shoebox.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she hurried over to him and snatched the shoebox out of his hand. "That is nothing of importance. Besides, I think I've got our answer figured out." Satisfied with her handiwork and in an attempt to get the box back from Harry, she handed him the parchment she had been writing on.

"Hermione, these look like overly complicated instructions for an odd game of Truth or Dare, only without the dare." Harry peered up at her, his cheeks reddening as Hermione burst out laughing.

"It's not quite Truth or Dare, but it is a game of sorts. Have you ever heard of speed dating?" Hermione looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye. Upon his confused expression, she held up a finger and flipped the parchment. On the parchment, she made a crude sketch of five pairs of chairs facing each other in two lines. On one side, she wrote "women" and on the other "men." From the men's side, she drew an arrow going right.

"Okay," she said, dropping the quill. "During speed dating, the group is split into men and women. Men get one side, and women get the other. They each sit in a chair, and a timer is started for five minutes. During those five minutes, the partners can talk about anything they want, or they can use pre-written questions that each person submits when they register, and those questions are placed with each chair." She looked up at Harry. "Are you following me so far?"

"I think so," he responded.

She nodded. "Alright, so the goal of speed dating is to find someone that you're interested in going on a longer date with. Each person has the option to write their information down for the other person and give it to them during their date to set up a time to meet once they return home from the speed dating round, or they can both acknowledge their mutual interest in pursuing a second date and agree to talk after each person has talked with all the other speed daters."

Harry blinked at Hermione. "So, this is basically a really easy way to date around?"

Hermione grimaced. "I guess if you want to think of it that way. I think of it as more of a test drive. If you don't feel anything during the five minutes designated to find a connection, then I don't think you would have much chemistry on another date."

"And you think anyone is actually going to go for this?" Harry asked and promptly winced at Hermione's affronted look.

"Of course they will! They'll just need proper motivation, is all." Hermione picked up her quill again, tapping the end against her lip. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that she was getting ink all over herself. "We just need to talk it up, is all. Make it sound really exciting."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, we can make posters: 'Depressed War Survivor's Speed Dating: Find Someone to Help Curb Your Desperate Loneliness." He had to duck the pillow Hermione threw at him.

"I was thinking more along the lines of free food and drinks, but a poster that says something catchy and not rude wouldn't be a bad idea, either. We could hang them up in the Leaky Cauldron and Three Broomsticks, plus any other businesses that will let us hang—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there," Harry protested. "There is no we in this thing. There's just you and an innocent bystander whose pitiful love life happened to give you the idea for this." He stood up and began to back away from the couch.

Hermione, however, was not above pleading. "Harry, please. I know that this would help you feel better! A little fun never hurt anyone, anyway."

Harry shook his head. "No way, Hermione. Planning is fun for you. You know what's fun for me? Eating. And Quidditch. And doing anything other than interacting with random people for hours on end and pretending to have fun."

"But Harry, if you think about it, I'm really doing this for you." She pouted up at him from beneath her lashes. "I just don't want you to be upset anymore. And there's a bonus of helping other people, too!" She brightened. "You might even be able to add it to your community service section when you apply for the Auror Department after graduation next spring!"

Harry groaned, and Hermione cheered internally as she saw him begin to waver.

"You don't think 'taking down the biggest, baddest Dark Lord in wizarding history' counts as enough community service?" Harry sighed.

With a grin, Hermione answered, "Well, it could count as enough community service if you were content on getting by with your name alone." She looked up and caught his eye. "You're a lot of things, Harry Potter, but I know you're not content with getting by on what you were made to do to end the war."

Harry sighed and reluctantly crossed back to the couch. "Fine." He picked up Hermione's sketch and glanced over the rules once more. "But I get the final say on who we accept and who we reject. This is only including people that we know from Hogwarts. Not any of the random witches and wizards who will likely apply because they know our names from The Daily Prophet."

Hermione nodded. "I couldn't agree more. So, are you in?"

With a glance skyward and a long suffering sigh, Harry plopped down onto the chair cross from Hermione. "I'm in."

"Then let's get to work. We've got lots of planning to do!" Hermione grinned at Harry, who dropped his face in his palms with a grimace.

Three hours later, Harry groaned across from Hermione and dropped both his quill and his head onto her dining room table. They'd spent the better part of the last few hours going over ideas for promoting their speed dating event and designing flyers. Harry had been a good friend about it, working through the early morning with her even though he obviously had other things he wanted to get done. She was proud of their work, though, and she followed his suit. She capped her ink and leaned back in her chair to survey the work.

Most of their ideas stemmed from keeping the event inclusive to previous Hogwarts students in their year and the year below them. Hermione didn't know too many people outside of those years, and she didn't want to deal with a large group of people should too many others decide that they wanted to have an opportunity to get close to The Boy Who Lived.

"Well," she stretched through a yawn. "I think we've got almost everything we need." She double checked her checklist. They'd booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the following weekend, and Harry had owled Minister Shacklebolt to ensure they could hang their posters about the Ministry so long as they were tasteful, and, with Hermione at the helm of the project, they were sure to be classy and discreet. "It looks like the only thing that we have left to figure out is a name."

Harry groaned. "I've been trying to think of one for the last three hours, Hermione. I've got nothing."

Hermione was in the same boat. She didn't want to just plaster Speed Dating across the poster; that seemed classless.

Harry perked up across from her with a mischievous grin. "The best I've got is "Winner, Winner, You Have to Buy Me Dinner."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Absolutely not. We've got to come up with something that doesn't sound like a bunch of fourth years came up with it while playing Spin the Bottle."

Hermione turned to the books lining the shelves of her living room; though she didn't pick any of them up, she hoped just staring at their spines would give her inspiration. Books had never failed her before.

Her eyes skipped across the titles of each book. Hogwarts: A History, Moste Potente Potions, and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them jumped out at her, but none of them seemed to inspire her. It was only when she skimmed across the books at the bottom of the case—the ones she'd never read twice but couldn't bear to throw out—that inspiration struck in the form of Gilderoy Lockhart's obnoxiously perfect smile.

"Harry, what about Magical Matches?"

His brow furrowed as he thought it over. "Like the Lockhart book?"

"Not like the Lockhart book. The name of the event is just… heavily inspired by the name of his book," she defended.

"Hermione, this isn't some misguided tribute to your second-year crush is it?"

Though Hermione knew he was teasing, she took the bait anyway. "No, Harry, this isn't a tribute to Lockhart. It's just catchy. I think it'll make people look twice!"

He mulled it over for a bit. "Yeah, you might be right. So, is the magical bit just because we're all wizards and witches or will we add some kind of magic to it?"

She snapped her fingers. "What if we included a courage potion with registration? I've been working on something for the dragon tamers that I think might help! Then it wouldn't be nearly as nerve-wracking to be around so many of our former classmates with the intent of dating one of them."

Harry nodded. "That might work, yeah. Is it patented yet?"

"Not…exactly. It's still in the testing stages, but it seems to have worked flawlessly so far." Hermione paused. "If we include that it's an unpatented potion in the registration form, we should be in the clear. We'll just have to be sure that all participants sign that they understand that the potion isn't perfected yet and there might be side effects."

"What kind of side effects are we talking about, Hermione? I don't want to walk about the place with antlers sprouting out of my forehead or technicolour spots breaking out in places they shouldn't be," Harry said sceptically.

"The worst we've had is a bit of babbling so far. We've added peppermint to the brewing process of Felix Felicis, and something in the potion reacts with it to sometimes encourage them to say whatever they're thinking, though it shouldn't be too bad if I watch the brew closely enough." Hermione thought for a minute. "I'll try the potion first, and if it doesn't cause any negative side effects then we'll give it to everyone else. If there are negative side effects, then we can just buy cheap dividers to keep people from seeing each other and bolting," she offered.

Harry nodded and jotted down the notes as ideas continued to churn in Hermione's mind. Though she wouldn't normally suggest an unpatented potion, she knew she was thisclose to having it perfected. She really wouldn't suggest something that she thought might hurt anyone else. And, though the courage potion was a good idea, she couldn't help but wonder if she could come up with a potion that would help establish a baseline for compatibility. Then everyone would be able to tell whether the match actually had a chance of working out. Though everyone told Hermione that the point of dating was the journey and falling in love, she couldn't help but worry about pursuing someone that was ultimately wrong for her.

"Alright," Harry said. "So, we've got a name, rules, and an idea of the participants. How soon do you think we can make this happen?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Give me two weeks. There's something I need to work on."