"He's right there! Somebody grab him!"

Pansy Parkinson woke up in a cold sweat. Dammit. Five years. Five years had passed since those despicable words blurted out of her mouth in a moment of panic. And yet, she still had not learned how to live with herself.

She had tried. She tried very hard to leave the past behind, to start over, to raise from the ashes of her shame and become the witch that she could be. A few months after the end of the war the Slytherin princess moved to New York, hoping that a new place, where no one knew her name, would allow for a clean slate. In America, wizarding kind lived among muggles, (though they called them no-maj), and that had turned out to be an interesting and educational experience. It had all worked out well, to a point. Pansy tried not to think too much about the fact that her life in New York, the most exciting city in the world, was at best acceptable and at worst dull.

She got off the bed, grateful that it was Sunday. After pouring some coffee the pretty brunette sat on her favorite armchair, facing the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the park with a muggle laptop on her knees when a ping gave her goosebumps. The message on the screen brought a smile to her face.

Greeneyedwizard sent you a private message on Wizlove.

Wizlove was the dating chatroom for magical folk that was all the rage in America. A few days ago her online persona, Poutylipswitch had matched with a fella that called himself Greeneyedwizard. The chatroom was an ingenious combination of muggle and magical technology that allowed the exchange of messages but blurred out magical school names or workplaces, so the people interacting got to know each other without trying to narrow down who in the small magical community they were talking to. Greeneyedwizard and Poutylipswitch had a lot in common, especially their love for old muggle movies. A few nights ago they had stayed online together as they both watched Casablanca on the TV. It had been the most romantic night of Pansy's life. She was falling hard for this wizard and hoped he was falling for her too.

Greeneyedwizard: Good morning, Pretty Lips

Poutylipswitch: It's Miss Pretty Lips to you, Mr. Sexy Eyes.

Greeneyedwizard: Alright, Miss Pretty Lips. I like it when you get bossy.

Poutylipswitch: I know how you like it, Sexy Eyes,

Greeneyedwizard: You sure do.

Poutylipswitch: You are not correcting me when I call you Sexy Eyes. Cocky, aren't you?

Greeneyedwizard: Perhaps. Or perhaps you are right.

Poutylipswitch: So what, you do have beautiful eyes?

Greeneyedwizard: You were the one to say it.

Poutylipswitch: But you didn't correct me.

Greeneyedwizard: I guess only one way to find out.

Pansy's heart fluttered like a hummingbird. Greeneyewizard was about to ask her out. On a real-life date.

Poutylipswitch: what are you saying, Mr. Sexy Eyes?

Greeneyedwizard: I'm saying lunch today. Rooftop Lounge on Fifth. There is a corner in the garden where is easy to put a disillusionment wall. We can have a moment of privacy before removing it so the service can reach us.

Pansy put the laptop down carefully before standing up to do a little happy dance. Then took a deep breath and sat again to type:

Poutylipswitch: I will see you there at 12:30.

Greeneyedwizard: Phew! For a second I thought I lost you. What took you so long to answer?

Poutylipswitch: Oh I had to think about it, you know, let you sweat a little.

Greeneyedwizard: Cunning. I like that.

Poutylipswitch: You have no idea. See you in a bit.

Greeneyedwizard: Can't wait.

Pansy turned off the laptop and gave a squeal, then bounced her way to get ready for the date. When she was finishing applying lipstick a thought crossed her mind. What if she didn't like him? What if he was an old man? The chat room assured the users that the matches were based on the preferences that every witch and wizard filled up on the intake questionnaire, but the actual information was not shared with them. She sighed. The idea was to like the person for who they really were. She liked Greeneyedwizard. He was kind, funny and flirty, and that was more than enough.

Pansy got to the Rooftop Lounge and immediately saw the disillusionment wall on the backside of the garden. She took a deep breath and quickly crossed it before any muggles would notice her disappearance. There he was, looking over the balcony, his back to her. Not too tall but not short, with raven color hair, broad shoulders and a very nice butt. As he slowly turned around she saw thick facial hair (sexy!), hipster glasses (hotness!) and then she saw him. It was him. No, no, no. Please, Merlin, not him.

"Parkinson? Is that you?"

"Potter," she mumbled, a cold feeling rushing down her spine. Her eyes were glued to him, and she stood frozen while he walked slowly toward her. The Gryffindor stood too close, looking down at her lips.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to walk into mine, " Harry said in a soft voice.

"This is not your joint," she answered breathlessly, looking into the green eyes that examined her face intensely.

"I was trying to be suave, Pretty Lips."

Her skin rose in goosebumps

"Am I still Pretty Lips?"

"I don't know, are you? Are you the same witch I've been talking to? The one that is humble and sweet and caring?" Harry asked, leaning even closer.

"I am," she answered. "I have changed. A lot. I swear I am not the same stupid girl I was years ago. I've grown," Pansy said lifting her face until she could feel his warmth on her skin.

"What if I tell you that I have dreamed of taking those pretty lips and kiss them breathless?" asked the wizard.

"I would say I hope you plan to do just that."

He gave her a challenging look, shortening the distance even more.

"What if I say that you owe me, Parkinson?"

She angled her face slightly so their mouths would align.

"I would say take whatever you want."