Shout out to StephaniO to being my faithful beta!

Disclaimer: All creative rights belong to their original creator(s) and in no way are connected to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, or Warner Brothers. The author of the following fanfiction does not in any way profit from the story and is written solely for entertainment purposes only. Rights to characters and their setting is neither claimed nor implied.

Chapter 1

Harry slammed his date up against the wall, taking care to cushion her head against the brick of her fireplace. He tilted her head back and claimed her lips with his own. She tasted like champagne.

Her small hands made quick work of his clothes, his shirt first disappeared, his pants following. Harry quickly pulled her dress over her head and went to work. He left a trail of kisses down her neck until he reached her breasts. They were lovely and round with dark pink areolas. He took one in his mouth and slipped a hand into the smallest pair of knickers he had ever seen. The knickers were so small it restricted his hand movements. Frustrated, he vanished them.

She gave a small gasp of surprise at the sudden rush of air on her skin. He pumped his fingers in and out of her channel until his hand was soaked. He lifted her by her buttocks and carried her to the sofa, where he fucked her into the couch cushions. After he came, he pulled out, waved his wand to cast cleansing charms on both himself and his date, and began to redress himself.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, love. I don't sleep over. I thought you understood?"

She sighed and draped a blanket over herself, "Yes but I suppose I was hoping you would change your mind." She turned blue hopeful eyes to his green.

"I don't change my mind. You were brilliant. Would you like to go again sometime?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Owl me next time there's a ball or something."

"Right. Good night then."

Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into Grimmauld Place a moment later. The lonely house matched his mood perfectly. He grabbed a tumbler of fire whiskey and began the long trek to his room. He shed his dress robes along the way, not bothering with the mess. If he got drunk enough, he may be able to waste half of tomorrow.

Sleep was a complex arithmantic equation these days. If he drank too little or not at all, nightmares plagued his sleep. If he drank too much, he was hung over and useless the next day. Even his magic was sluggish (which was not acceptable for an auror). Having sex helped make his limbs heavy and his mind quiet - if only for a little time.

Luck was with Harry this evening. He mastered the formula for sleep and managed to sleep Sunday morning away. He woke at noon, and breakfasted on tea and toast. He got dressed and then sat on the window pane and tried to collect his thoughts.

Sometimes Harry just needed to escape it all. It was very tiring having photographers and reporters follow you about every time you went to the bank or out to the pub. He was sick of being in the public eye. It felt more like a microscope. He did not fancy having his life dissected for all to see. Why should anyone care what he bought at the grocery store or where he went on the weekends? It was getting out of hand.

He read up on glamours and became very good at disguising himself. It was the only way to walk around anonymously. His life was a bit complicated at the moment - yes he was the saviour of the wizarding world but he still yearned above all to be just Harry. He had his dream job of auror and a number of dates to any function he chose.

And yet he felt the loneliness of his new life most acutely. When he would go out with friends or to a party, even when he had a date, he would wish for solitude again. He seemed to be in a vicious cycle of wanting company but then rejecting company and going back to his solitary life.

Hermione called it, "self-imposed social isolationism." She was certain that Harry was trying to push everyone away in an attempt to save them. Most people in his life had died trying to save Harry. She was certain he was letting himself slip into depression again.

Ron thought he was just "sowing some wild oats." He thought that Harry should be able to deal with his issues how he wanted to. And if he wanted to shag his way through the pain, then everyone should leave him to it.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to think. Part of him agreed with Hermione but the other half insisted he was fine. Instead of thinking further on the subject, he carefully applied his glamours so he could wander around Diagon Alley undetected. He lightened his hair to a dirty blond, changed his eye colour, and glamoured over his scar. He took off his glasses and carefully put in contacts. He donned his thick grey cloak and set off.

He was always a bit nervous venturing into Diagon Alley. He was wary someone would recognize him and see through his glamours. His worries were unfounded as he made his way slowly through the packed crooked streets with other witches and wizards that had procrastinated like he.

Harry stopped at Flourish and Blotts first and quickly picked out a few large tomes for Hermione. Sugarplum's Sweets Shop was very crowded and most of the patrons seemed to be Harry's age or younger. Here he picked up a variety of sweets. The crowd outside the shop appeared to be getting thicker. Despite the frigid air outside, he felt himself begin to sweat beneath his cloak.

Cursing himself for not getting his shopping done earlier, he quickly ducked into the next shop. It was a shop he had never been in before. It was a small room, painted a deep blue with a desk situated in the middle with two chairs in front of the desk. At the desk sat a pleasant looking old wizard.

"Good evening. How may I help? Where do you wish to go?"

Harry blinked at the sign that read, "Terror Tours." A travel agency?

"Um I'm not sure really. What all do you provide?"

The wizard pulled out a long list of parchment and handed it to Harry. "Here are our top vacation destinations. We provide the portkeys, lodgings, and reservations. You may also rent a broom at your destination for an additional charge."

The parchment listed a variety of magical locales to choose from. He scanned the list with interest.

"May I purchase a trip for two friends?"

The wizard nodded, "Of course."

"Then I need two portkeys for Australia please. One to Australia and one return to Britain." Hermione had been yearning to see her parents again. Plus she and Ron could use a little romantic getaway.

Harry filled out the paperwork, grimacing when the wizard did a double take when he filled out his personal information.

"You don't look a thing like Harry Potter!"

"That's the idea, sir. Otherwise I can't get anything accomplished with fans you see. May I count on your discretion?"

The wizard pondered for a moment. "I won't tell a soul if I can have your autograph. My grand daughter would think the world of me if I gave her that as a Christmas present."

Harry happily handed over his autograph and tucked the purchased portkeys (a tattered magazine and a comb missing a few teeth) into his cloak.

He darted to the next shop, Eeylops Owl Emporium. It looks like several other people had the same idea. Errol, the Weasley family owl, had finally died just last week. He intended to buy them a replacement. He still hadn't managed to replace Hedwig but he supposed he liked not being able to be reached.

The shop was crowded. Most of the shelves were bare. There were only two screech owls, one brown, and one barn owl remaining. As he stood there mulling over the options the brown owl was purchased. He reached for the remaining barn owl but another hand was grasping at the same cage.

"Oh I apologize, go ahead," Harry said, handing the cage to the smaller woman. She had shiny brown hair with brown eyes. There was something familiar about her face. Had he shagged her? Surely not, she did not seem to know him at all. Then he remembered his glamours were in place and felt rather stupid.

"No don't worry about it, you can take it." She tried to give the owl back.

Harry refused, "No it's all right. I was trying to replace a friend's owl that died last week but I can buy them something else." As they spoke one of the screech owls was purchased.

Her eyebrows rose on her forehead, "Really? Me too. Their owl was positively ancient and it finally died last Thursday."

Harry scoffed, "That's an odd coincidence."

Just then a harried looking woman stepped between them with a toddler crying on her left hip. "Excuse me, are you buying this owl?"

Harry said, "Yes, she is."

The pretty stranger protested, "No, he is."

The mother looked annoyed. "I'll get this one then." She grabbed the last remaining screech owl and carried off her purchases, the owl screeching along with the toddler.

"Look you better buy this before someone else does." She thrust the cage into Harry's hands.

"Only if you let me make it up to you somehow."

She quirked an eyebrow, "How?"

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"I'm not in the habit of dining with strangers. But thanks anyway."

"Come on, it's just dinner. You name the spot. I won't ask you for your address so I can't owl you later."

She reluctantly agreed, "Alright but this is not a date."

Harry smiled, "Alright. Let me pay for this owl and we will be on our way."

They nabbed a table at the Leaky Cauldron. It too was teeming with holiday shoppers.

"I just realized I don't even know your name," Harry said to his beautiful dinner guest.

She chewed her lip in contemplation. "Let's circle back to that thought. Did you fight in the war last May?" She blurted out.

Harry instantly wondered if she had figured it out. Had his glamours somehow slipped? He immediately checked his reflection in the darkened window. No, his glamours were still in place.

A look of comprehension spread across her face. "Are you wearing glamours?"

Harry blushed, "Yes but it's not to look more handsome or anything." He wavered between telling her and then decided he could not explain it any other way. "Look, have you ever just wanted to go to a place and be a normal person? Just blend in with the crowd? I wear them as a disguise so I won't be recognized."

A huge smile broke out upon her pretty face. "My job makes me pretty recognizable so I wear them too. This," she said tugging on her wavy dark brown hair, "is not my hair colour."

Harry smiled back, "Nor is this mine."

"So if anonymity is important to us both maybe we shouldn't exchange names."

Harry pondered that. Just then a haggard looking waitress came by their table and took their orders. After she left Harry countered, "So should we give fake names then?"

"You name me and I'll name you. You look like a Jack Henry to me."

Harry chuckled, "Which one? Jack or Henry?"

She took a sip of mead, "Both really. You're one of those complicated people that have to have two first names."

"Fair enough."

"Your turn, what is my name going to be?"

"Bianca."

She rose her eyebrows questioningly, "Really, why?"

He shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of beer. "It just seemed like a sexy name for a sexy stranger."

She blushed violently. "Alright then, Jack Henry. Can you tell me your profession without giving yourself away?"

"Sort of. I do work for the Ministry of Magic but I won't tell you which branch. Do you work there as well?"

Bianca shook her head in the negative, "No. I'm not very good at desk jobs. My job is more...lucrative."

"You're going to make me guess, aren't you?"

"Might as well, it seems like our food will take a while with this crowd."

"Lucrative. Do you work for Gringotts?"

"No."

"Do you have your own business?"

"No."

"Are you famous?"

"Yes."

"Are you a musician?"

"No, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it."

Harry snorted out a chuckle. "Me neither. Are you famous in the wizarding world? You're not some actress in the muggle world?"

"Famous in the wizarding world."

Harry smiled, "Do you like to fly?'

Bianca smiled back, "Love to."

"You play quidditch professionally?"

"There you have it."

"Really? That's so cool. Which team?"

"No, no more of that. If I tell you that you can guess who I really am."

Their food arrived and they promptly tucked in. Harry asked her generic questions throughout the meal. What type of broom she preferred, did she play at school, her favorite quidditch positions, etc.

As their food was cleared away he decided to go out on a limb. "I understand if you want to go home to your boyfriend, but do you want to stay here and have another drink instead?"

Bianca laughed, "That was such a subtle way of asking if I have a boyfriend!"

Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Yeah that was rather terrible."

"And no, I do not have a boyfriend. I don't think he would have been chuffed at me dining with a stranger."

"Right, that was a dumb question."

"I'll stay for just one more drink."

Four drinks later, they were both feeling warm and tingly.

"I really should be going, and you should too. I don't think that new owl likes this place. He seems restless."

"But I never answered your question!"

Bianca stared at him in confusion. "What question?"

"You asked me if I had fought in the war."

"You're right, you weaseled your way out of that one."

The barn owl gave a hoot of indignation and began to peck fervently at the lock on the cage.

"Do you want to go to my place? I can hardly hear you over this," she waved an arm around the packed pub, "this ruckus. Just to talk mind you, Jack Henry."

"Sure," Harry paid the tab and side-along apparated into a lovely small flat. A large fireplace took up half of one wall, one couch and two wing chairs took up the rest of the living room. A small kitchen connected to the right while a hallway lead off of the left.

Biana pointed her wand at the fireplace and started a good blaze. She walked a little unsteadily to the kitchen, "Tea?"

"Sure." Harry unfastened the lock and let the owl out to stretch its wings. "Come find me tomorrow at Number 12 Grimmauld Place," he told the owl before he let it out the window.

Bianca came back a moment later carrying a tea service and set it down on the sideboard. "How do you take your tea?"

"A little milk, one sugar, please."

She handed him a steaming mug and started to make her own. "Thank you."

"Of course, do sit down." She settled herself on one end of the sofa, Harry settled himself on the opposite end.

They drank their tea in companionable silence, watching the flames dance about the hearth. "I fought in the war as well you know. I was not supposed to. I was not 17 at the time but I did anyway. I could not stand the idea of sitting by idly."

"I know what you mean. I have a hard time doing that as well. I fought but I can't tell you how or anything without giving the game away."

She nodded and leaned her head back against the sofa, closing her eyes. Her eyelashes were long and curled up at the ends. She had some freckles across her nose. Did she have those before or was her glamour wearing off?

"Do you have nightmares about the war?"

Harry stared at his tea leaves. "All the time."

"Me too. I lost some family so I usually dream about that. Or I dream that more people died. Or that I die and that I can see my family grieving my loss - that one is the worst."

Harry nodded, "I lost a bunch of people I loved too. I mostly dream about dueling and losing. I dream about what would have happened if we failed. That one is the worst for me."

Bianca snuggled closer on the couch. Harry stretched out an arm tentatively across her shoulders. She did not pull away. He pulled her closer and she snuggled against his side. "It's nice talking to someone who understands."

"Yeah it is," he agreed.

"Sometimes I feel like it's changed me. The war I mean. I find that it's harder for me to be with men. I'm not sure if I think they'll be taken from me or maybe they won't understand. It's not something I like to think about."

"I get that. I haven't been in a real relationship in about two years."

She looked at him in surprise, "Me neither! It does get rather lonely."

Harry leaned in and kissed her soundly. Her lips were so soft. She opened her mouth a little and he took the chance and pushed his tongue in, tasting her tea and sugar. He pulled away to gauge her reaction.

She seemed to be deep in thought, "I've never had anonymous sex before."

He smiled, "I thought I was Jack Henry, not anonymous," he joked.

She smiled softly and put an arm around his neck, "Is this a bad idea?"

"It's only a bad idea if you don't want to," he replied seriously.

She nibbled on her lower lip, "That's just it. I want to very much."

Harry claimed her lips again as he threaded a hand through her silky hair. She smelled wonderful as well. Like mint, vanilla, and fresh linens. A small moan escaped her lips as his hands explored her chest. He made short work of her buttons and freed her small but perfect breasts from their bra prison. Her breasts were perky with light pink areolas. He took turns playing with them and sucking on them. She held his head to her chest, squirming and grinding against his legs.

He worked his way down to her trousers, leaving kisses as he went. He unbuttoned them with his teeth and slid them down to the floor. She was naked save for a pair of plain purple knickers. Harry sat back to admire her. "You're gorgeous."

She smiled in return. "Do you want to relocate to the bedroom?"

Harry scooped her up in his arms in response, carrying down the hallway to the left. He passed the loo and found her bedroom. It was a small room with a four poster bed in the middle. A small fireplace was on the opposite wall with two windows framing the fireplace. Harry deposited her on the bed and waved his wand to shut the curtains and ignite a fire in the grate.

Bianca had been working on his shirt and was nearly done with that. He pulled it over his head while she saw to his trousers. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, anxious to feel her soft, warm skin against his own.

He rejoined her and covered her body with his own. He broke their kiss to get rid of her knickers and took her pink clit in his mouth. A sharp gasp was heard from his bedmate. She bucked her hips into his face nicely, eliciting a moan from Harry.

He dipped his tongue into her quim and let out a sigh. She tasted good and her moans were making his prick harder and harder. It felt good to give her such pleasure. She dug her small hands into his hair and cried out as she came. He licked his lips and lay down beside her.

"Fuck, you're good." She said with bleary eyes. She then flipped on her stomach and sent a trail of kisses to his penis, already standing at attention. She bobbed up and down his shaft about ten times before he pulled out of her mouth. "You're going to make me cum, witch."

He gently pushed her on her back and entered her. Her walls were so tight! He pushed all the way in on the third gentle thrust and quickly found a rhythm they both enjoyed.

Bianca was pretty vocal so it was easy to find out her likes quickly. Soon she was experiencing her second orgasm and he pumped in one more time, releasing his seed.

He felt so warm and sleepy. Against his better judgement he spooned his body against hers just for a minute and felt his eyelids droop as sleep claimed him.

He had an unpleasant wake up call the following morning. He awoke from a deep sleep to a short scream followed by a stream of curses.