Harry let out a strong sigh, he shouldn't have trusted Hermione to set him up on a blind date, he hasn't dated since the war and if he was honest he couldn't find a fault in that. Everyone was so sure Harry was lonely and needed someone to settle down, and have kids with. It was like they wanted him to completely forget the war! Sure he was happy for Ron and Hermione and he loved Victorie but that did not mean he wanted his own lot of Potters, running around. Teddy was enough, thank you very much.

He wasn't even completely straight, but merlin forbid Hermione even try to set him up with someone of his own gender. Thank you muggle upbringing for rearing your ugly head at all the worst moments. Perhaps he'd be content if Hermione had set him up with a muggle, but no, a muggle would not be permanent so my options are quite limited. Harry was fed up with waiting for a date who wasn't showing, not that he blamed them, every date he'd ever been on seems to find its way onto the pages of Witches Weekly, and everyone knows his sordid love affairs. With that he took off, the Portkey wouldn't leave for another few hours, and really Hermione, high hopes much, meaning he was stuck in who knows where New York. Honestly, what a joke, an international portkey for a date, stupid kingsley and his weak will.

He walked around for some time before spotting a place that looked promising enough The Empire Hotel, Hotels have bars right? He shrugged, walking in finding the bar rather quickly. He seated himself and looked around, glad Hermione insisted she dress him as he fit right in decked out in Alexander McQueen. He ordered a glass of whisky, paying with his Gringotts Unlimited card.

He was staring into his glass of amber, taking an occasional sip, counting down the minutes until the portkey would activate. A smooth baritone interrupted his inner turmoil, sliding into the open seat to his left "Ah, a man after my own heart." When Harry looked up, he admitted to himself that the man was good looking, but he had a look of condescending snobbery only gained from being raised with an exponential wealth, the likes of which he'd only ever seen on pre-war malfoy. Harry raised an eyebrow at the man "Yes well it's a bit weak for my taste, but I grew up drinking local, much stronger than anything you could get here."

The man chuckled, extending his hand, claiming almost expectantly "I'm Chuck Bass". Harry rolled his eyes at the ego on the man, honestly. He contemplated ignoring the man, but some part of him was enjoying this, whatever the hell this was. He grabbed the others hand, not expecting for the guy to kiss it. He quickly pulled back his hand, glaring at the man's audacity. "Harry Potter" he replied, not enjoying the amused glint in the others eyes.

"So why are you in town Harry?" Chuck asked, continuing before Harry had the chance to retort "It's just you don't recognize me and not many people can say that, not in these parts of town at least." Harry just scoffed "You're rather presumptuous, I could very well live here for all you know." If anything that comment seemed to amuse him further "not likely" chuck replied in an infuriating tone. "And why not?" Harry challenged regretting it the moment a predatory smirk graced the others lips "I'm Chuck Bass, I own this place." Damn it. He really needed to do more research on a place before gallivanting off into the night. Harry released a small huff, a light blush coating his cheeks "My point remains." Chuck flashed him an amused look "As does my question, business or pleasure Mr. Potter?"

"Neither." Harry replied forcefully. Chuck turned to him a single eyebrow raised, "Oh?" a clear invitation to continue. What the hell? Harry figured he'd never see this man again. Famous last words.

Three hours and 5 glasses later, his Portkey was set to take off in 5 minutes. In a truly cinderella fashion harry scribbled his name and phone number across a cocktail napkin and shoved it into Chuck's hand, "if your ever in London give me a ring. I'll get you something stronger than that" Harry rushed out, running towards the door with haste arriving at designated apparition point in the nick of time.

Sitting at the bar, a bemused look on his face Chuck Bass made a decision. Perhaps it's time he look to further his empire. London is the New York of England, and chatting up a curious green eyed man seemed like a much better time than wandering aimlessly around Paris with a broken heart.

Stranger Danger! Who's the mystery man who's caught C's eye, poor thing. I heard he not from around these parts, probably doesn't know what he's just got himself into, and what'll B have to say about London randeavous, nothing good I hope. Buckle in Harry, your in for a bumpy ride.

XOXO Gossip Girl