Muggle clubs never really suited Harry. The music is too loud, the beer too watery … the girls too easy.

Oh well. He's here. He might as well make the best of it.

Ron is enjoying himself at least, Harry thinks. Gyrating his crotch into the butt of some girl with flowing blond hair. Come to think of it, she looks a lot like Fleur, Harry decides as he tips his beer back. He winces slightly. It really does taste awful.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron yells at him. "Get out here!"

Another girl has joined him and Fleur's lookalike. Ron's eyes are huge.

Harry shakes his head. Girls in ripped shirts and tight jeans? No, thanks. That's not his idea of a good time.

He finishes off his beer and turns back to the bar to get another one. He can feel a buzz coming on, which surprises him, seeing how the beer tastes like cat piss and couldn't possibly produce a good buzz.

He drinks the next one quickly. How many has that been? Four? He'd better stop after the next one. He takes it and moves back to his post near the dance floor, staring out at the heaving crowd.

Four girls are surrounding Ron at this point. Harry laughs. Ron must think this is the best birthday ever.

"Hey, Harry," someone says behind him. "Sorry I'm late."

Harry turns around, and sucks in his breath.

Since when did she look so beautiful?

"Hermione," he says stupidly. "No – no problem." He nods his head towards Ron. "He didn't really want to wait for you."

"Oh!" Hermione says in surprise, and giggles. "Well, I guess I'm not surprised. Muggle girls are quite easy, sometimes."

"You look nice," Harry blurts out.

Hermione looks down at her outfit. "Thank you," she says, slightly confused. "It's nothing special." Just a green top and jeans. Nothing tight, nothing sexy.

"It's better than – than that girl over there," Harry says, pointing to a redhead with a short skirt and tube tope. "Or that one," he adds, pointing to Fleur's twin, who is now cupping Ron's bottom.

The two of them stand next to each other, watching Ron.

Harry clears his throat. "This isn't – hard for you to watch or anything, is it?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'm fine," she says. "Honestly. I'm happy he can have a good time again."

"He does love you, you know."

"I know. But – but we're not meant to be together – not like that. It just took us a while to realise it." Hermione sighs. "It's better this way."

"Could I buy you a drink?" Harry offers.

Hermione smiles and nods, allowing him to lead her to the bar. The bartender plunks down to beers – I really should stop, Harry thinks ­­– and Hermione takes hers, turning to Harry. "A toast," she says. "To Ron – for finally getting lucky."

"He was lucky to have you," Harry tells her.

Hermione shakes her head. "Well, he never had me, you know," she blurts, turning slightly pink.

Harry nearly misses his mouth. "But wha --? He said --"

"As if Ron would tell you the truth about something like that," Hermione scoffs. "No, we never had sex. But I bet he will with one of those girls out there."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure you're not sad? I mean –"

"No, Harry, I'm not upset. Stop worrying about me! It's been over a year, at this point. You can drop this super-sensitive act." She pauses. "Not that it's a bad thing," she says hastily. "I just mean – I'm Ok. Really. Now, let's drink." She tips her head back.

Harry finds himself studying her neck. It's shimmering slightly. Is that 1) how it always is; 2) makeup; or 3) the beer taking its effect on his senses? Harry has a sudden urge to kiss her neck.

Instead, he brings the beer to his lips. But his eyes stay on her neck, even after she's finished drinking her first beer and he can barely notice that she's continuing to chatter away about work and such. She orders two more bottles, then two more. Her hand motions are becoming more exaggerated, and his vision is getting blurrier and blurrier. But he can still see her neck, glimmering.

"Hermione! You're here!"

The both look up. Ron is stumbling towards them, his arms around the brunette and Fleur's long-lost twin.

"Happy birthday, Ron," she says slowly, giggling. "I'm Hermione."

"Oh, this is Anne and Charlotte," Ron says quickly. "Listen, we're going to, um, I'm taking them home. So I'll see you later, all right?"

Harry nods. "Have fun, um, taking them home," he says, grinning.

He just makes out Ron's wink. Everything is so out of focus.

It's kind of cool really.

"Bye," Hermione calls as Ron presses back through the crowd. She turns back to Harry. Her neck glimmers.

"Do you want to dance?" he slurs abruptly.

Hermione stares at him blankly for a moment. Dancing? What? Oh, right. "I'd love to," she squeals, grabbing his hands and placing them on her waist, rocking her body back and forth.

"Er – Hermione? I meant out there." Harry points to the heaving crowd of beautiful people on the dance floor.

"Oh, right. Let's go." She tugs at his hand, pulling him behind her. When they reach the centre, she turns towards him, very slowly. She lifts her arms in the air and closes her eyes and sways her hips back and forth.

And her neck shimmers.

Harry follows her moves, watching her.

He can't take his eyes off of her.

She dances closer to him, breathing in, breathing out. She's looking up at him, and he's looking right back. She presses her body right up against his. And he reaches out to touch her cheek, his thumb pressing gently against her skin.

Another couple bumps into them, and they both stumble. Hermione steps away, looking down. But her heart is still beating a lot faster than it should. Why?

Harry looks over the heads of the people surrounding them. He turns back to Hermione, who is looking at him.

Was she always this beautiful? Were her lips always that full, her eyes always that wide? And her neck …

"Let's go," Harry says abruptly. "Some fresh air."

Hermione follows him as they stumble out of the club. It's raining. She tilts her head up, the raindrops falling across her face.

Harry can feel the warmth of her hand in his, and there's something so beautiful about something as simple as that. And he wants to touch her face again, badly. He pulls her towards him, and he reaches out eagerly. But she giggles and pulls away, spinning them around and around. Oh, God. He's getting dizzy. She's getting dizzy. And he just starts laughing, and he pulls her back to him, and she lets him. And she looks straight into his eyes, and she's so beautiful, and he can't help himself.

And he presses his lips against her, very gently. And she kisses him back, shyly, like she doesn't know what's going to happen next. She feels a buzz in her head and his tongue moving inside of her mouth, and it's absolutely beautiful.

Harry pulls his wand out of his pocket. "Come on," he slurs. "There's an alley over that way."

He leads Hermione down the alley. She pulls out her own wand and he nods at her, and they Apparate.

Harry's apartment is significantly warmer.

And that's when they notice that, yes, they are quite wet after all.

"Let me, um, get you a towel?" Harry sort of asks Hermione. Her long, curly hair is soaked, and the water is running down her neck into the area between her breasts.

Hermione laughs and shakes her head, but that only makes her dizzier. She walks towards him slowly, taking his hand and looking up at him. She's so beautiful. He bends his head down to touch his lips to hers, another question. Hermione smiles and opens her mouth slightly, and he places his hands on her waist, kissing her eagerly, and with more intensity. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his waist. He presses her against a wall, and kisses down her wet neck as she runs her fingers through his hair.

She raises his chin with one finger and presses their mouths together. She unwraps her legs, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him slowly backwards. Where is she leading him? To the – he gulps, feeling his jeans tighten.

The door is closes, and she presses him against it, reaching to turn the doorknob. She continues to push him backward until his knees hit the side of his bed and he falls backwards onto it.

Hermione looks down at him, and she smiles. And Harry smiles back. "Come here," he says, reaching for her. Hermione lies down next to him, and he rolls to face her. He tucks her hair behind his ear, moving his hand down her throat. And then he takes her waist and he pulls her on top of him, and she holds herself up with her hands to each side of her head. He lifts his hand up to touch her face, and she kisses his palm. And then she bends down to kiss him. And they kiss and kiss and kiss, and she raises her arms above her head and he tucks his hands under her shirt and lifts it over her head. And she unbuttons his shirt, kissing her way down his chest, pushing it back and over his shoulders. He reaches around her back, unclasping her bra. And it falls away. And the rest of their clothes fall away, until there's just them. And it's beautiful.

She presses their foreheads together as he pushes himself gently inside of her. She closes her eyes, but he whispers, "Keep them open. Please." And she does.

And when it's over, he kisses her cheeks, then her forehead. They're sweating, and they're still wet from the rain, and it's beautiful.

They're lying on their backs next to each other, just holding hands and looking up at his ceiling fan. She rolls onto her side and rests her head on his chest, breathing deeply. He strokes her hair, and whispers, very quietly,

"I think I'm in love with you, Hermione Granger."

But she's already asleep.