WhiteElfElder, you''re quite right in that Harry could take the romance too seriously, and crash when the holidays are over, but if you look at the tags of this fic in the disclaimer section of Chapter One, you might see how things are going to go...

Lily Incarnate, thanks for your review; as always it was uplifting :-)

Thanks to everybody else that reviewed, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!


Harry lay back on the grass and watched Gabrielle as she drew. The past week had been one of the best, if not the best, in his entire life. Every morning he would work so hard at his chores that he didn't even need to go on his runs, before he would make a trip to the same store that he had before and recruit the very same salesman to outfit him with something new. In just seven days he had spent over nine thousand pounds, but he now boasted an entire wardrobe for every occasion, every season, and every formality. He had found the entire experience strangely liberating. When he was wearing such clothes he found it that much easier for him to accept his new personality and let himself be free; his confidence was advancing in leaps and bounds, and yet not once had he sunken into arrogance. He knew he looked smart; he knew he looked handsome; he knew he looked wealthy in an understated manner, and he liked it. After leaving the store wearing his purchases, minus the several suits he brought which he picked up on the way back to Privet Drive, he spent the rest of the days – including dinner – with Gabrielle.

Not once had she forgotten to compliment him on how good he looked whenever they met, and not once had Harry failed to make her blush by flattering her by telling her how beautiful she was. He had wondered after the second day what kind of relationship they had, and he truly couldn't figure it out. They were so comfortable with each other that they shared almost everything, much like the way he felt with Hermione, and yet it most certainly wasn't the same. He had complimented Hermione on how great she looked at the Yule Ball, but Gabrielle didn't look great. She made 'great' look like a piece of rubbish, and so Harry wondered further. He didn't feel the sudden, burning monster in his stomach like he did when he looked at Ginny Weasley…no, what he felt for Gabrielle seemed very different to that.

They flirted and danced around each other; teasing mercilessly to elicit the triumphant blush that they so sought to draw out of each other, and yet although it was done in a goading manner there was an element of seriousness to it that confused him, and if the flickers of puzzlement from Gabrielle were anything to go by then she felt much the same. They held hands on occasion, and when they weren't then they were at least touching in some way or other, and the hugs they shared were so very unlike any other person's. They weren't rib-fracturing like Molly Weasley's; they weren't desperate like Hermione's; they weren't immature like Ginny's; and they most certainly weren't like any he had ever received from a male. In fact if they were, he would have been very worried. Her embraces were soft, but more meaningful than Harry thought was possible to be conveyed through a mere hug. It told of the friendship she held for him; the attraction she felt for him; the comradery she shared with him; the fun she saw in him; and the trust she had given him.

He sighed and then smiled as he watched her charcoal pencil whizzing over the paper drawing yet another picturesque piece of art, and as he watched her subtle fingers twisting this way and that to manoeuver the pencil to bring the scene to perfection. His thoughts turned to the oddities in their indefinable relationship. Both had held back on some aspects of their lives; Harry with the full disclosure of the Dursleys, and she always shied away from talking about how the allure had affected her life – and he was fine with that, but there was something that she was hiding, and he didn't know what. A look always flickered through her eyes whenever he mentioned the Daily Prophet or the Ministry manipulating the wizarding public, and she seemed to change the subject whenever the matter came up – no matter how hard he pushed.

It had been that precise issue that had led to their first fight in fact. He had pushed for her opinion on the behaviour of the press, and how easily people had been manipulated by them, and the flash of emotion that seemed so familiar flickered across her face. She had tried to change the topic, but he had jokingly pushed for her opinion. She had come back with a more serious no, and he had had frowned before asking why. She had glared at him and almost growled that she didn't want to talk about it, and that had been the end of it. After that he'd never pushed that far, and after the near-hour of awkward silence they had apologised to each other the issue had never again been breached.

He groaned quietly to himself as he tried to remember where that emotion was in his memory, and then stopped on Sirius. He frowned to himself and then searched deeper into the emotions he had been feeling before he had come to grips with the entire situation. He had grown past the depression and pain that Sirius' death had brought, helped in no small part by Gabrielle, and so meandered through each event leading up to the current moment. He froze when he came across a memory from his first night back at the Dursleys, and a knot of ice formed in the pit of his stomach. Employing his Occlumency he virtually relived the memory, and froze it as he looked himself in the bathroom mirror back at the Dursleys. His eyes were drawn, filled with pain and anguish at his godfather's death. The hate for the Death Eaters and Bellatrix showed through as clear as day, and another emotion that was so obvious now that he had seen it.

Guilt.

His eyes slowly opened, and he regarded Gabrielle like he never had before; with cold, calculating suspicion. He closed his eyes once more after several moments, and then forced himself to bring back some of the trust and warmth; the care and the affection he felt for her before sitting up and looking at her again. She caught his movement out the side of her eye, and turned to him with a smile, but it froze half-way when she caught his expression. He saw a flicker of fear, quickly replaced with concern, but it was enough for Harry to finally voice his question. "Why are you here?"

His voice was flat and unemotional, and she found herself shivering at the sound; craving for the tone he normally spoke to her in. "I'm here for the exchange of course, I've told you that," she smiled at him with a theatrical roll of her eyes – but she stiffened when his expression didn't change. "Harry?" she questioned worriedly and he sighed before lying back on the grass.

"Gabby, we're friends – right?" She nodded furiously when she noticed him peering at her from the ground and he shuffled around so that he was propped up on an elbow. "And friends sometimes lie to protect their friends, right?" She felt a chill settle in the back of her throat as she nodded reluctantly, and his eyes bored right into hers. As much as she wanted to look away from the cold stare she couldn't. "Then why do I get the impression that you're hiding something from me, and that it's not for my protection?"

The coldness spread through her entire body, and she stared at him in shock as he stared at her. "I-I don't…" she looked at him pleadingly, and found herself nearly in tears when she saw no give in his icy glare. She couldn't lie to him – she wouldn't. His heart lurched at her heart-wrenching expression, but he forced himself to stay cold as she explained. "Harry, I- I'm so sorry!" He felt his heart sink, and a crack tear itself almost down the middle at her apology, but once more forced himself to listen. "I never lied to you Harry, I wouldn't lie to you! I really am here on an exchange, and I really did come here to learn about the English culture and language, but- but I also came here beca-" she looked about ready to cry, and Harry wanted nothing more than to stride over to her and wrap her in an embrace, but he couldn't because he didn't know how far her betrayal went. "I- my father, he is the Minister of the French Ministry of Magic Harry and- and he knows abou- about the prophesy-" she saw the worry in his eyes and held up her hands in desperation, "I never heard it Harry! I promise I never did, bu- but he wanted to know where your loyalties lay in the war that's coming." She lowered her head in shame and self-disgust, and he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps things weren't as they seemed. "Harry, I… once I met you again I didn't want to do it. I really liked being around you, and I didn't want to manipulate you." Her eyes snapped up to meet his, pleading and helpless. "Please Harry; give me the chance to explain!"

He stared at her for several long moments, his expression unchanged, but a crack appeared in his façade when he saw the tear trickle from her eye as the pain swirled deep within her sapphire orbs. He stood from his bed of grass and then walked over to her; the slightest hint of warmth peeking through his coldness. "Tonight at eight o'clock meet me outside The Long Bar in London. You'll want to wear something smart." She nodded furiously and he nodded stiffly before walking away from her. As he slowly made his way back home he furiously dissected what all of this could mean. From the sounds of it it wasn't a manipulation as such, more of an observatory mission. She had looked genuinely sorry, borderline distraught, and he had had more than enough experience with such emotions to know whether or not they were being faked. She had said that her father wanted to know, but he had not once divulged to her any information on his loyalties, and never once had she pushed for it – and that was one of the reasons that had swayed him to give her this chance.

He passed through the door to the Dursleys without realizing that he had forgotten to change back into the pitiful hand-me-downs he was expected to wear, and tromped up the stairs lost in thought as Petunia stared at his retreating back in complete and utter shock. After locking his door with some locks he had purchased earlier that week he sat down on his bed and sunk into his brooding mode. After several hours and nothing at all to show for it he sighed and stripped down to his underwear before unlocking his heavily spelled and protected wardrobe – another development in the past week – and donned his smartest dark jeans, a pair of stylish black leather shoes, a white collared shirt and his black sports coat. He rummaged around for a while until he found the aftershave he wanted, activated the runes and protections on his room once more, and then trudged back downstairs…walking right into Petunia once again. She blanched at his appearance, and then turned her head to the side before yelling, "VERNON!"

Harry snarled at the squeal and stopped half-way up the stairs to await the appearance of the fat, short-tempered man that constituted his Uncle. He waddled into view a moment later glaring at Petunia for interrupting the watching of his favourite TV show, but his complaint died in his throat when he followed her eyes and saw his supposedly good-for-nothing nephew standing there looking like a very mature and influential young man. "BOY!"

"It's Harry," the young wizard shot back dryly, "and I'd appreciate it if you didn't launch spittle halfway up the stairs. These shoes are new, and I'd quite like to keep them looking that way."

"Why you little shit!" yelled the irate man, and he started up the stairs towards Harry – until the young man raised his hand. Vernon paused, and then started forwards again…at least until a thin beam of yellow light burst from his palm and hit him dead in the chest.

He yelped in pain as the stinger's effect made itself known, and Harry snarled at him. "I can do a lot worse than that without a wand Vernon, and I won't get expelled for it either. Now you both go back to the lounge and leave me the hell alone, or I show you what it feels like to be boiled alive by an overpowered warming charm. Oh it'll hurt me too; that kind of magic I'm not used to commanding wandlessly, but it'll hurt you far, far worse." He returned the glare easily, "So make your decision."

After a tense stare-down Vernon growled like a feral dog and retreated to the lounge while Petunia looked ready to faint. Harry breezed past her, "I likely won't be back until early morning, so cook your own dinner and breakfast for once because I'm likely going to be too bloody tired to do the latter in the morning." She gaped at his order, and watched as he disappeared out the door and down the street. Ignoring the sometimes flirtatious glances from various young women, and some older ones as well, he made his way into the town proper and hailed a taxi before giving the driver the address. He peered at his watch and sighed; in just over an hour he'd be talking with Gabrielle and seeing what she had to say…or he'd be engaged in an awkward silence, but he sincerely hoped not. Against all that his brain was telling him, that he shouldn't be bringing more people into his crazy, dangerous life, his heart wanted to be able to confide in her, and he knew precisely which side was winning.

An hour and five minutes later he arrived outside of the blue-lit, modern and upscale bar, and after paying a rather hefty toll he closed the door behind him and stepped forwards towards it. A quick glance at his gold watch told him that he was ten minutes early, and so he was surprised when he saw a young woman making her way over to him. He could tell by the way she moved that it was Gabrielle, and even though he was uneasy and untrusting he still couldn't deny her beauty. A shimmering blue gown cascaded down her body; a slit up the side showing off her creamy, perfect legs which ended in a pair of two inch, elegant heels. He let his eyes roam a bit as she neared; in the darkness she wouldn't see where he was looking, but drew his eyes to hers when she came close enough. She seemed uncharacteristically nervous, which wasn't an overly big surprise considering the circumstances. "Hi," she greeted him awkwardly, and he nodded civilly to her before offering his arm.

She looked up at him in surprise, but her face fell when he said, "For appearances sake." She missed his muttered, "For the moment," as they walked to the entrance, and after being greeted by a bouncer who looked at the two transfigured IDs that put them both as eighteen years old provided by Harry, the two walked inside. They were immediately seated in a discreet corner overlooking the stunning courtyard, and Harry quickly perused the wine list and ordered two glasses of Isole e Olena, Cepparello 1993 – making Gabrielle raise an eyebrow at his knowledge. The pair sat in silence as they waited for their drinks, and several minutes later the man returned and asked for their orders. Gabrielle looked tentatively at Harry, and he made a gesture for her to go ahead. She ordered the cheapest meal on the menu, and Harry leant forwards when the waiter looked to him. "She's just being shy. Two of the Chef's Special thank you."

The waiter smiled and nodded his head, trying in vain not to gawp at Gabrielle, and then made his way back to the kitchen to relay the order. Gabrielle looked at him in confusion; although he hadn't spoken more than three words to her the entire evening he was being far more pleasant than she had anticipated. "Before we start Gabrielle," she jolted at his voice, but then latched onto what he was saying like a lifeline, "I want to say that you once again prove me wrong. You are more beautiful tonight than I have ever seen you before in my life, which once more requires me to say that you are the most stunning woman in the entire world."

She gaped at him as a huge blush spread over her face, and he sent her a small smile; a far cry from the ones they had been sharing the day before, but it did have a hint of warmth that she hoped signified a chance of redemption. "Thank you," she muttered, and he nodded.

"I'm just telling the truth." She let out a small smile of her own as she sipped at the wine he had ordered, and couldn't help but let out an appreciative moan at the splendid taste. He did the same before sitting back in his seat and staring at her. "Today really hurt me Gabby," her heart soared at the use of his endearment for her; one she hadn't ever let even let her parents or sister use, "more than you can imagine. I don't know why, but I trusted you with nearly everything. In just a week you found out what it took three years for my best friends to wheedle out of me, and that kind of trust doesn't come easy to me."

She lowered her head and nodded, but then locked eyes with him again; her eyes equally as pleading as they had been that afternoon. "Harry, can I explain?" He nodded, and she made sure that she didn't break eye contact with him at any point as she spoke. "My father can be a very persuasive man, but I knew from the moment he asked me to find out your loyalties that it would be difficult for me. Since you saved me I've always looked up to you. I wondered what it would be like to see you again; whether you'd remember me or not, and whether you'd even want to be around me. The moment I saw you last week I knew that I wanted you to be my friend. You were so much more than I already thought I knew you to be, and that was jolting in itself." She chuckled somewhat bitterly, "My father grows impatient with me. I received an owl yesterday which was less of a question and more of an order as to why I hadn't gotten him the information he wanted."

Harry's eyes darkened almost imperceptivity, but Gabrielle had come to know those eyes so very well and so didn't miss it. "Did he threaten you?"

She shook her head, "No, he would never do that. He is impatient is all; he is worried about this war that approaches, and fears for the fate of the people that rely on him to lead." Harry's posture relaxed and he nodded; his eyes showing a little more warmth and understanding than they had previously. She took a deep breath, and then continued; her eyes begging him to believe her. "I swear on my life that the last week I have never once tried to manipulate you; I only wanted your friendship and companionship."

A small flash wiped over her, and Harry looked at her with something akin to shock. When she didn't drop dead he fell back into his chair with wide eyes. "Well that made this whole ordeal a little bit easier to understand, and in just a moment you've regained every single ounce of respect that I had for you." Her eyes widened, and he sent her that familiar lopsided smile of his as tears began running down her cheeks. An instant later he rocked back on his seat to absorb the impact of the younger Delacour powering into him, and he smiled into her hair as he closed his eyes and breathed in her familiar scent. "I'm sorry I doubted you Gabby."

She shook her head and cried even harder, eliciting some frowns from other patrons, and some jealous looks from others. He ignored the latter, and sent apologetic looks to the former – before staring murderously at the waiter who had reappeared with their meals. As he placed them on the table he stared blatantly at Gabby's bum, and a moment later found himself crouching over and scurrying away when a perfectly aimed stinging hex collided with his groin area. After several minutes of cooing in her ear she pulled away and wiped at her eyes with a watery but joyous smile on her face which made his heart skip a beat. "Thank you."

He smiled right back and escorted her back to her seat before returning to his own and leaning over so that his hand lay over hers. "There's no need to thank me; there was nothing to forgive in the first place."

She chuckled and took another sip of wine, "And I know that you'll worry until I accept you apology. Apology accepted Harry." He grinned and she picked up her knife and fork after he did – but paused before placing the delicious looking morsel in her mouth. "I'm very happy to have my best friend back." The beaming smile that he sent her she was sure would be enough of a memory to power the strongest corporal patronus she had ever cast. For the rest of the night the two chatted away; eager in even their minute split to catch up and share even more of their lives with each other. After finishing their meal nearly two hours later, and drinking two more glasses of wine each they walked hand in hand to the road before hailing a taxi, and whispered to each other the entire drive back; their hands never leaving each other's. Finally they pulled to a stop, and Harry told the driver to wait as he escorted Gabrielle to the door of the small but modern apartment.

She turned around as she inserted the key into the lock and smiled brightly at him, and the look in her eyes signified that something had changed in their relationship. Harry was more than happy to return that sentiment, and she quickly leant down and placed a kiss to the edge of his mouth. They both blushed heavily at the action, but their dual smiles belied their true feelings on the action. Harry stammered for a moment, but then took in a deep breath before smiling up at her. "I'll see you tomorrow at the park at the normal time then?"

She nodded with another smile and then melted into his embrace when he offered it. He kissed the top of her head, and her eyes widened into his chest; for him to initiate a show of affection was something that had never happened before, and she felt a surge of warmth roll through her when she realized that it was his way of telling her that he knew something had changed, and that he was accepting it. The two parted after several long moments of revelling in the new, unexplored feelings that they held for each other, and then reluctantly broke contact with each other. She smiled at him as she opened her door and stepped inside, and he took a polite step back as he beamed at her and nodded. She did the same back, and then closed the door before giving him one last delighted smile and disappearing from view. Harry returned to the waiting taxi and gave him his address in Privet Drive before leaning back in the seat with a silly grin on his face. The taxi driver peered over his shoulder with an approving look, "You've found yourself a keeper there."

Harry smiled back and nodded as he closed his eyes, "So I'm told."