Hey everyone! Back again! I've had this pairing in mind for a while. I've been disappointed that the only time these two are together is when there's multiple people. I decided to take things into my own hands and play around with it. Huge thank you to my beta, Rusty Weasley, who without, this would be quite awful.

Give it a read and let me know what you think in the reviews.

Chapter 1

Hermione shook her head in disdain. Was this really the best she could do? Was life really meant to be this unpleasant? Hadn't she suffered enough in her 24 years?

She looked at the two men across from her. Men her arse, they were pubescent boys. Harry was tossing peanuts into Ron's mouth. They were trying to break George and Lee's record on how many they could catch without missing. Normally she wouldn't say anything, seeing as they were her best friends, however this was ridiculous. Weren't they aware of their surroundings?

"Will you both stop it? We are in a public place! Do you want your pictures in the Prophet again?" she scolded.

They both ignored her and continued on their task. Annoyed, she waved her hand using wandless magic to make the peanut miss Ron's mouth.

"Oi! What the hell Hermione? We were almost at 78!" Ron bellowed.

"You're 24 years old, Ronald. Not six. Grow up!" She shook her finger in Harry's face. "You're about to be a father. Don't you think it's time to start practicing adult behavior?"

A flash caught them all off guard. Harry groaned, Ron turned red, and Hermione tried blinking the spots out of her vision.

"Well at least we know what the headline will be for tomorrow. Two-Thirds of the Golden Trio Chastised for Immaturity in a Restaurant," Ron joked.

"Your headline needs work, Ron. Clearly it'll say, Hermione Granger: War Heroine or Mother Goose," Harry chuckled.

"Make me the arse of your joke. Go ahead. I won't be here to listen." She grabbed her purse and sweater from the empty seat next to her. Both boys protested as she shoved her chair roughly into the table, splashing their drinks.

"Hermione don't leave! We were just kidding!"

"Yeah! You haven't even paid for your part of the bill!"

Hermione turned around so, quickly that Ron didn't have time to shield himself from the coins she threw at his face.

"Don't talk to me for at least a month Ronald Weasley!"

Leaving behind an embarrassed Ron and a sheepish Harry, Hermione exited the restaurant and walked down Diagon Alley.

She walked past all the shops and people, not paying attention to where she was going. A few people would try and get her attention to snap a photo or ask for an autograph. Normally she would kindly reject them, asking for privacy, but after the infantile show at dinner, she was in no mood to be nice. She ignored everyone until she reached the Disapparition point.

Arriving at the alley behind her apartment, Hermione finally let out some frustration. She picked up a rock and threw it as hard as she could down in front of her. Feeling some of the tension release, she picked up a few more and threw them as well.

She knew this was stupid. Throwing rocks? Really? But it's what helped. She had tried other stress relieving coping mechanisms, but they all came at an expense. Drinking- she'd end up too drunk to Apparate safely. Sex- that went in hand with drinking. It released the stress, but after waking up one day in Charlie Weasley's bed, she decided it wasn't smart. Exercise- it proved to be the most effective, but who really had the time to work out their problems that way?

Certainly not Hermione Granger.

No.

She threw rocks.

Like a Neanderthal.

"Ow! Bloody hell! What the shite was that?" came a male voice out of the darkness.

Hermione froze. She had hit someone with a rock. She was so busy being blind-sided by stress and rage, she unintentionally hit someone.

"Oh my! I'm sorry! Are you alright?" she said as she walked closer to her victim. "I didn't know there was someone there. I didn't mean to hit you."

A young man a few inches taller than her was rubbing the side of his face. He appeared to be squinting at her.

"Are you alright?"

"I think so. Bloody rock just knicked the side of my face. No worries."

He lowered his hand and looked at the woman apologizing to him. He felt a flicker of recognition. "You look familiar. What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger. Let me look at your face and make sure it's not bleeding."

He turned his head slightly while she observed the forming bruise on his face. Of course she looked familiar. She was the Gryffindor Princess. He'd seen her picture in the newspaper quite often but he always remembered her as the second year girl helping the Weasley kid vomit slugs.

"You don't need stitches but there is a cut. I'd hate for it to get infected. My flat is just around the corner if you'd like me to disinfect it," she said as she pointed to the big red building on the other side.

Hermione watched him trying to decide whether he should go with her. She felt terrible about him getting caught in the crossfire of her rage, so she decided to make the choice for him. "Come on," she said as she took hold of his arm and led him away from the alley, down the street, and towards the building.

"Good evening Miss Granger and guest."

"Good evening Tim! How's young Dale?" Hermione greeted the doorman to her building as he opened the door for them.

"He's walking now miss. Wife's trying to keep up with him."

"You'll have to show me pictures soon!"

"Will do Miss Granger."

Hermione lead the injured man towards the elevators. Stepping inside, she pressed the button to the sixth floor. As they waited for the elevator to deliver them, she surreptitiously watched him. He hadn't said anything to her since she made him follow her.

"What were you doing in the alley?"

He turned to face her. "I was looking for the entrance to the fire escape," he lied. He didn't want to tell her he was a wizard. She obviously didn't remember him.

"That's rather odd. Why?"

He didn't get a chance to answer. The elevator bell rang and she led him to apartment 603, pulling out a pair of keys from her purse with an elf keychain. He also noticed that her wand poked out of her bag. He walked in as she held the door open. He wasn't surprised at the decor. Going by what he knew of her, it all made sense. The apartment oozed invitation, warmth, and comfort.

"Have a seat. I'll get the first aid kit," she said, pointing him towards her living room. Hermione discarded her purse on the kitchen counter and walked towards the bathroom.

She washed her hands, getting the grime from the rocks off. The enchanted mirror mocked her.

"Really Granger? Rocks? Brightest witch of your age and you throw rocks?"

"Oh shut up," she scolded.

"And then you invite a complete stranger into your home. What if he's a murderer or a rapist? Where's your wand?"

"In my bag."

"So where's your bag?"

Hermione groaned. "In the kitchen."

"Your lack of common sense will be the death of you."

"I should've given you back to George while I had the chance!"

She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the small kit. Closing the cabinet she looked in the mirror once more.

"Fix your hair. If he proves to be normal, the least you can do is snog him senseless. Better yet, how about a shag? He is kind of cute."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at the enchanted mirror before turning off the light and making her way back to her living room.

He was looking at the pictures over her fireplace. Thankfully she had a few Muggle friends and she'd moved all her moving pictures to her bedroom. He picked up a picture and looked at it closely.

"That's Niagara Falls in Canada."

He jumped not having heard her come back.

"Sorry I didn't mean to be nosy," he said, putting the picture frame back in its place. He went to sit next to her on the couch while she removed contents from the white-boxed kit with a red cross on it.

Hermione scooted closer to him and turned his face away. Opening a small packet of alcohol wipes, she cleaned the small scrapes the rock had left on his lower sideburns.

He sucked in a hiss as the alcohol wipe made contact where the main impact landed.

"Sorry. I'm almost done."

With a final packet opened, she placed a small Band-Aid to cover the scratch. She knew it was unnecessary but she wanted to be thorough.

"All set. Almost like new."

"Thank you Miss Granger."

"No thank you. I'm apologize again Mr... I'm sorry. I don't think I caught your name."

"Adrian. My name's Adrian."

Hermione put away the contents in the box.

"So Mr. Adrian with no surname. Why were you looking for the fire escape?"

"I just moved in a few buildings over. I wanted to inspect the area in case of an emergency. It seems like next time, just to go around the building, I'll need to wear a helmet," he teased.

Hermione blushed in embarrassment. "I don't normally throw things," she grumbled.

"Why were you throwing them?" Adrian asked as he leaned back on the couch. He liked this couch. Very comfortable. He could easily fall asleep on it.

"I uh...had a bit of a disagreement with two of my friends. I kind of stormed out, and in a bit of rage, threw a small, itty bitty tantrum."

"It happens to the best of us. I too have a very good friend who's a wonderful person, but can he drive me up a wall. If I could throttle him or ring his bastardly neck, I would. But alas, I take out my frustration elsewhere."

Hermione couldn't agree more. As much as she loved Harry and Ron, there were days she questioned their friendship.

"And how do you accomplish that?"

"I should say the proper way, like exercising, but honestly, who has the energy? By the time I slip on my trainers and my gym apparel I'm too tired or too distressed. There's nothing quite like getting pissed though. Nothing a good stiff drink can't fix."

Hermione laughed. "Oh I tried that. Got myself in a bit of trouble."

Adrian raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you pummel your friends? No. You're far too lovely to resort to a physical altercation. Ended up at an exes flat? No, no. Don't answer that."

"No," she laughed. "Neither of those." She turned around and lifted her hair revealing the nape of her neck. "I did this."

Adrian looked, trying to ignore the scent of her hair and the inviting skin. Written in small, perfect cursive, was a word.

"Fortis. That means brave right?" He almost reached out to trace the word.

Hermione let her hair down again and turned to face Adrian.

"Yes. I got rather inebriated once and found myself with one of my girlfriends at a tattoo parlor. We both had endured an awful day and were quite frustrated. One drink led to another and the next thing you know, I found myself hunched in front of a man four times my size covered in body art and piercings. After that and another instance, I promised myself alcohol was not the answer."

"I never would have expected that from you. You always seemed so poised."

Hermione gave him a funny look. "You make it seem like you know me." She noticed a look in his eye. "Wait. You did say I looked familiar. Do you know me?"

"I just met you," he laughed. Inwardly he knew it was a partial lie. Technically he did know of her, but they truly had just met.

"True."

Hermione glanced around her flat. For once she was glad of her slight compulsion for cleanliness. The apartment wasn't a mess.

Adrian took her silence as a sign.

"I should get going. I never did find the fire escape." He stood and walked towards the door.

"Right. I'm-"

"Don't apologize again. All's forgotten and forgiven."

"Thank you. Let me walk you out."

Adrian opened the door and let himself out, Hermione right behind him. They walked in silence towards the elevator. He pushed the button to call the lift. He turned to face her.

"You don't have to go with me all the way down. I think I can manage."

"Right. Of course."

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival.

"Thanks for fixing me up. I hope that I'll run into you again. Perhaps under more comfortable circumstances."

Hermione blushed at his teasing.

"Have a good evening Hermione Granger," he said as he stepped into the elevator.

"You as well, Adrian with no surname." She flashed him a bright smile right before the door slid shut. Hermione went back to her apartment. She made herself some tea, set the fireplace, and settled into the recliner.

She fell asleep at one point while reading a romance novel. Her dreams were infiltrated with a handsome man who looked exactly like the man she had met today.