Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.
Acknowledgments: Zaion Indulias for the beta work on this chapter.
Chapter 12
Harry woke around nine the next morning. He yawned and crawled out of bed slowly, stretching his arms above his head as he proceeded to the shower. A few moments later he emerged and dressed for the day.
Harry took a second to check his schedule, to make sure he didn't have any sponsorship commitments to take care of that day. But ever since the trade Daphne made sure his schedule was pretty barren. He made a mental note to tell her that he was situated now, and she could return to getting him to smile at cameras for money.
Once he was changed and ready he grabbed the piles of papers from his bedside table and proceeded down toward the kitchen. He dropped all the paperwork onto the counter and started to page through it. But he gave up on that after about fifteen seconds and decided it was better to try to get some breakfast in him before scouring the paperwork.
He grabbed a couple of eggs and scrambled them quickly. He debated making himself a fried egg sandwich but decided that scrambling them was easier. Once they were done he tossed them onto a plate. He grabbed the radishes he'd picked up at the farmer's market with Pomfrey and started on the eggs.
He read while he ate. After the first few bites he essentially stopped paying that close of attention to the food. Twice he had to magically warm the eggs before continuing eating. Once he'd finished with them though, it became easier to just occasionally take a bite of a radish while he read.
It was all interesting to him. But he wasn't sure how much it affected him. He saw some of the warning signs right away. But when he compared it to the ballet and dance guidelines that were also included, he found himself in a bit more of a gray area.
So he did all he could really do. He just kept reading, intent on trying to memorize every little detail. He figured that once he had a better idea of the entire situation in his head he'd be able to better analyze whatever was going on.
Still, a part of him thought that perhaps he should just stay out of it. The more he read, the more he realized just how in over his head he actually was. He quickly realized that he had absolutely no idea how to tell if there even was a problem. It would be entirely guesswork.
It certainly didn't help that all of the visual evidence that had been included was of extreme cases. He'd seen Gabrielle in little enough to tell that she looked nothing like the walking skeletons he was now looking at. Yes, she was thin, but there was a certain strength to her petit frame. That strength was not evident in any of the pictures he was looking at.
He spent a few moments switching through the papers that discussed anorexia, and the papers that discussed ideal ballerinas. He was surprised that there were quite a few parallels between the two. And that thought disturbed him.
He wondered just where the information on dancers came from, too. He assumed the medical sheets were all in some type of archive. A few of them even had publication details on them, which was handy. Pomfrey's notes even contained references to works so that when he read something in her specific notes he could easily find the matching documents. He figured it would have been a more intriguing feature if he were concerned about anything other than just getting the basic information.
But the information on the dancers was different. Really all of it was conjecture and opinion, with the possible exception of the symptoms of anorexia. There were lots of theories on how and why the illness developed. But the dancing information was mostly in the form of oral accounts from dancers. From what Harry could tell, most of the accounts were from dancers that had battled with the disease.
In them the girls, all the accounts were from females, talked about what they felt drove them to that point. And why they thought it was okay. Harry noticed a few common themes through the articles. All the girls were trying to be perfect. They were striving for some sort of ethereal ideal that none of them could really describe. And they all felt pressure from outside sources to get to that point.
But, it was different forms of pressure. There was never a common theme. Sometimes it was simply because they thought they were too large and wouldn't get a part. Or they thought their friends had better chances because they were smaller. Really, there were more reasons given than Harry would have found possible. But there they were.
His next page was nothing more than a statistical comparison of eating disorders amongst certain groups. He skimmed it for a moment, but didn't spend that much time on it.
Eventually he found a page from the Royal Ballet about eating disorders in dancers and what they do to avoid them in their students. Harry thought the entire thing sounded rather harsh, but figured that could only be because of how seriously they took the issue.
After he skimmed that he went back to Pomfrey's notes. He was fairly surprised to find medical records and dates, a few of which were from his time at Hogwarts. Pomfrey had redacted the names and dates, excluding the year, but she kept careful notes on each patient. Harry couldn't help but try to figure out who they were as he paged through them. But nothing came to mind.
So instead he focused on the case details. Harry knew that Pomfrey wouldn't have included them if she hadn't thought that they were worth looking at. Pomfrey had highlighted the warning signs of each case, as well as how she'd gotten the patient to talk about it. And how she'd gotten her patients to combat it.
He did notice that on two of the cases the nurse had felt she had not been successful. The student had graduated without a resolution. In both cases the parents had been involved in the treatment. But Harry could just tell from Pomfrey's notes that she was not particularly proud of either.
Harry spent a fair amount of time reading over the details on those cases. He focused on the warning signs, placing that information up against the basic facts that had been referenced in the other articles. There were enough similarities that he could see how Pomfrey had drawn her conclusion.
He also focused on the ways she'd gotten the students to acknowledge the problem. Some of the other works that were provided to him focused on those as well. A few even claimed that it was the hardest part in helping someone and one of the most crucial steps toward recovery.
Once he'd felt like he'd done enough reading he went back to sorting through the pictures. Daphne's packet on ballet included some shots of what Harry could only assume were famous ballerinas. He spread them out over the counter, next to the pictures of anorexia patients. He could certainly see quite a few distinct differences between the two.
The severe cases of anorexia made Harry want to vomit on the counter. There seemed to be bone everywhere, and they didn't look like living humans. But the dancers, while still managing to look far too thin, at least looked strong.
He tried to imagine Gabrielle standing next to the girls in the photographs. He thought that she looked much closer to the ballerinas. But he couldn't tell if that was purely because he wanted, desperately, to see her like that, or if that was actually the case.
Harry attempted to picture her, exactly how she looked the night before. But it was too easy to alter his mental image, without any clue as to if it was how she looked or not. He did remember, though thinking about how she was almost entirely muscle when he examined her the night before.
After a little while longer he decided that he wasn't going to get anywhere reading anything more at that point, so he stacked all the papers back up, spending a moment to organize them by ones he'd read and ones he hadn't. He banished the papers back toward his room and decided to find a better way to kill time.
It felt a little bit odd to not have practice. Ballycastle typically had a light day after matches. Mostly they would just study the previous game and do a bit of flying. But Falmouth, like many other teams in the league, had off days after matches, unless the team schedule was particularly full that week.
Harry didn't mind that. Nor did he think it was in any way inferior to the Ballycastle method. In fact, he could see the merits of both ways. He just didn't like not having the structured activity after a match. He suspected though, that in time, he'd grow accustomed to it.
So he paced around the house and tried to think of something to do. But nothing really came to him. So instead he pulled a Titus and wandered over to the couch, taking a copy of the paper with him, and tossing himself down on the furniture.
He only managed to make it about halfway through the opening headline of the Daily Prophet before the door to the home opened. Harry sat up to look at who entered.
"But regardless, I told you," Gabrielle's voice rang out through the entry way.
"Yes, you did," Titus admitted. Harry couldn't help but get the feeling he was joining the conversation rather toward the end.
"Hey now," he said as he stood and followed the other two into the kitchen. "Telling off Titus is supposed to be my job."
"Well you were not around," Gabrielle shrugged.
"Nice," Titus said, smiling at the small French girl. He reached into the fridge and grabbed out two bottles of water before tossing one to Gabrielle.
"Thank you," she said as she fumbled with it. But she did manage to catch it. Harry wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the water or something else.
"What did I miss?" Harry asked, looking between the two of them. Titus looked his normal self, wearing Falmouth Falcon exercise clothing. Gabrielle wore a cotton tank top and a pair of shorts. Neither of them looked like they'd been exercising recently, though.
And he couldn't help but take a moment to try to examine the girl more closely. The exercise clothing clung to her much more than her sundress the last evening had. And again, he couldn't help but think she was very, very thin. Her waist and hips were tiny, almost flat, as was her upper body. But her arms and legs were very toned. All the dancing had at least left her in impeccable shape.
"A four hour post match meeting with Derrick Lunfrey and Ralph Davis," Titus said. That wasn't really what Harry had been interested in talking about. But Titus looked like he wanted to gush a bit like a schoolgirl, so Harry decided it was best to just go with it.
"Four hours?" Harry said. That shocked him a bit. But he'd spent an hour with the reporters, and a few more with Gabrielle the night before. Of course, Titus could have very well decided to go out rather than come home the night before. But Titus always preferred company when he went to a bar. And Harry was typically willing to be that company.
"Four hours," Titus affirmed.
"How does it take four hours to fire a coach?" Harry asked. He hadn't seen anything about it in the paper. But he'd barely read any part of the paper, and the match had ended near enough to the deadline for the morning issue. He suspected that the news would be in the evening paper.
"That's an interesting question," Titus responded. "And honestly, for a while there, I didn't think he was going to do it."
"Seriously?" Harry asked. "I mean I didn't quite get why he wanted to have you there. But I thought Davis was gone immediately."
"Me too," Titus responded. "But it took forever to get to the point."
"You two are going to spend all morning talking about quidditch, are you not?" Gabrielle asked from somewhere next to Harry. He wasn't particularly sure when she'd slid next to him.
"Probably," Titus admitted.
"If that is the case than I am going to take a shower," Gabrielle said.
"Oh come on," Titus responded. "You don't smell that bad."
"Better than you, at any rate," Gabrielle countered. Harry blinked a bit and looked at her, wondering if he actually heard what he thought he heard.
"Well done!" Titus just smiled. Gabrielle blushed at the praise and looked away from the beater.
"Really?" she asked.
"Oh yes," Titus said.
"Thank you," Gabrielle responded. But then she took her water and walked toward the stairs and her room. Harry watched her go, letting his eyes linger on her incredibly nice cotton shorts for longer than he should have.
"What was that about?" Harry asked after she'd left.
"She didn't understand how we were friends when all we ever did was insult each other," Titus said.
"So you were attempting to explain that none of it was serious?" Harry asked.
"Essentially," Titus responded.
"And you took it upon yourself to teach her how to banter, then?" Harry asked.
"Seemed easier than trying to explain in verbatim," Titus said.
"Because all I really needed was more people that talk to me like Titus Button," Harry scoffed.
"Exactly!" Titus responded happily. "See, now if she wasn't showering that would have been a perfect example!"
"So anyway, getting back on topic," Harry said.
"Davis?" Titus asked.
"Davis," Harry affirmed.
"Well Lunfrey started yelling. Mostly I think he just needed to vent. I didn't really pay that close of attention to it, if I'm honest. It was more entertaining to watch Davis turn various shades of red and purple.
"But I think he really just needed to vent. A lot about how you actually manage to lose by a thousand points with such talent on the roster. And why you would pull the league's best player after he was the only semblance of offense the team showed," Titus paused to take a sip of his water.
"I bet that went over well," Harry said.
"It did," Titus responded. "Davis went on a rant about how he was the coach and decisions on personnel were entirely down to him. Apparently that was written into his contract at some point."
"Probably a smart move," Harry said.
"Probably. Especially with an owner like Lunfrey. But anyway, he went on about that for a while. Lunfrey calmed down and the two spent some time discussing the details of the match. Lunfrey noticed more things than I'd have given him credit for. He may not be quite as brain dead as I'd assumed.
"Davis argued with him on pretty much every detail. I think it was probably an hour of solid debate where I didn't say a damn thing," Titus sighed.
"Sounds entertaining," Harry commented.
"It wasn't," Titus responded. "I miss being on a good team where crap like that didn't happen."
"Me too," Harry sighed. "But you still have three hours of meeting to cover."
"Where's Eva?" Titus asked. "She'd just going to ask me the same questions."
"Haven't seen her since last night," Harry said.
"Check her room?" Titus asked.
"I'm not going in there, she'll hex me," Harry countered.
"Good point," he sighed.
"So you'll just have to tell the story twice, or you can make her ask Lunfrey. I'm sure he'll have some sort of team meeting to discuss everything. He seems like the type to do that."
"That'll be fun to sit through," Titus laughed.
"Yes," Harry said. "Maybe we should be less dicks about it and just smile and be happy that we're professional athletes." When Harry finished speaking the two players just exchanged a brief glance, before shaking their heads.
"Anyway," Titus said, getting back to the point. "He then spent the next hour or so whining about how you were uncooperative, and did not have any interest in sticking with the game plan, and only worried about yourself."
"An hour on that?" Harry laughed.
"An hour on that," Titus affirmed.
"What did he say about you?" Harry asked.
"Nothing. I don't think he had a big enough pair to actually say something while I was there to defend myself."
"So that was about another hour," Titus said.
"You let Davis trash me to the owner for an hour?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Titus said.
"Thanks for that," Harry responded.
"Well you could tell he was just raving. I figured it was better to just let him go. He spent about a half hour on how Eva was ruining team chemistry and Cora's development. Lunfrey made a funny comment about how he didn't think that having Toivanen play seeker certainly wasn't going to help her cause," Titus chuckled at the memory.
"Davis loved that?"
"Led to another half hour of ranting about how he was responsible for all personnel decisions," Titus said.
"And you're just sitting there, quietly, through all of this?" Harry asked.
"Pretty much," Titus said. "Lunfrey asked me a few questions but nothing that required an extensive answer. Often it was just to counter whatever excuse Davis had some up with. All of my answers usually just led to more ranting from Davis."
"Sounds fun," Harry said.
"Was," Titus smiled. "But anyway, after that last bit Lunfrey fired him. Davis told him he didn't have grounds to do that and they started having a bit of an argument there. Lunfrey did most of the yelling. And eventually he told Davis to just pack up his office and leave. They argued a bit more and he repeated it. Eventually Davis left and that was it."
"That was it?" Harry frowned.
"Yes," Titus said. "Well, we had a brief conversation after. But it wasn't really about anything important."
"How could there not be anything important in that conversation?" Harry asked.
"Well he just reiterated that he hoped we would talk about the future of the team together at some point in the near future. And that he'd be interested on our opinions of possible coaches. Although he did want to make it clear that he would not be picking a coach purely on our preference. But he wanted to see the type of coach we would most like to play for," Titus explained.
"Makes sense," Harry said. He knew Lunfrey couldn't give the impression that he was catering to the star players. Because as soon as he did that there would be articles about how Titus Button and Harry Potter were secretly running the Falcons. And those were never easy questions for an owner or general manager to answer.
"And after that he asked if I'd be willing to run practices for the next couple of times while he works on hiring a new coach. He said the entire assistant staff was hired by Davis and he was going to talk to them today to see who would be willing to stay," Titus said.
"So he made you captain then?" Harry asked.
"No," Titus said. "And I didn't ask."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"He seemed to have enough on his plate. I figured leading by example would be better than worrying about a uniform decoration," Titus said. Harry thought that was surprisingly mature for his friend, but he just nodded.
"You think that's going to work," Harry laughed.
"It did in Ballycastle," Titus said.
"Really?" Harry teased. "I always just assumed that Quigley gave up wanting to lead and the coach hated the other chasers."
"Well that certainly helped," Titus admitted.
"You're so lucky we aren't the same age," Harry laughed. Titus knew that he was referring to what their positions on the team would be if they had the same amount of experience. Of course, Titus also knew that Harry had no interest in leading the team.
"Yeah, because then we'd have wound up on different teams," Titus affirmed.
"Well that would have been disappointing and all, but I'm sure I'd have managed," Harry said.
"I don't know," Titus countered. "You were kind of a lost little loner before you started hanging out with me."
"I'm sure I'd have found a place to fit in eventually," Harry deadpanned. He actually hadn't minded the time he spent at Ballycastle where he didn't pay much attention to his teammates. Sure, he was happy that he and Titus became pals, but there was something to be said for the solitude.
"Nah, you'd have given it up and gone off and lived on some tropical island with like four supermodels in some weird haremesque relationship that no one actually understands. But everyone would just shrug and go 'hey he's Harry Potter, he should have an orgy with every beautiful, mythical being without question,'" Titus said.
"So I'd just spend every day like I spend the offseason?" Harry deadpanned.
"Exactly!" Titus responded. He then noticed the aluminum foil covered pans in the corner and wandered over to them. He peeled the foil off of one and then almost squealed with glee. "Aww, you made us brownies!"
"Nope," Harry said. "Gabrielle made them. And the cake."
"There's cake?" Titus asked, he had a rather large brownie in his hand and was proceeding to make a rather impressive mess on his face with it.
"Pan next to it," Harry said.
"Awesome," Titus said as he kept gorging himself.
"Indeed. Both are pretty good, too," Harry said.
"I knew you brought the Frenchie home for good reason. And here I just thought you had a thing for athletic blondes with perfect asses," Titus said, referencing a few of Harry's past conquests.
"Doesn't everyone?" Harry teased.
"Personally I prefer darker hair," Titus said.
"You just want to bang Eva," Harry said.
"Yes," Titus responded.
"Knew it," Harry laughed.
"Maybe she'll get traded again," Titus joked, implying that he wouldn't touch her purely because they were teammates, and that was never a particularly good idea.
"Maybe," Harry affirmed.
"Well you do anything entertaining last night while I was sitting in a cramped office and really wanting nothing more than a drink?" Titus asked. He'd somehow managed to find a plate, and had stated eating a rather large piece of cake.
"Not really. Just stayed up late chatting with Gabrielle while she baked," Harry said.
"How nice of you," Titus smirked. Harry suspected that his friend was having a difficult time pulling his mind out of the gutter. So he decided to be blunt with it.
"I think she may have a serious problem," Harry said.
"You mean other than having her entire family disappear?" Titus asked dryly.
"Other than that," Harry affirmed.
"Well what's up with her now?" Titus sighed. Harry could tell that his friend didn't really want to be having this conversation. Deep down, he knew that Titus wouldn't think it was his problem. And he was probably right, it wasn't his problem. But Harry had never been able to just let something go. No matter how hard he tried.
"I think she has an eating disorder," Harry said. "I've been reading up on them."
"Really now?" Titus asked. He just kept eating his cake and didn't seem shocked by the news.
"Yes," Harry said, referring more to the fact that he'd been reading, rather than the suspected problem.
"And you've decided that?" Titus asked.
"Well she doesn't really eat. She's really skinny, and she seems fairly adverse to food," Harry said.
"So you think she's anorexic? I don't recall her sneaking off to the bathroom after any meal. And I certainly haven't ever seen her over eat," Titus said. Harry was a little but surprised that his friend could identify the three main disorders.
"Yet she made a cake and a pan of brownies?" Titus countered.
"She claimed that she did it to make us feel better," Harry said.
"Well it's working," Titus said.
"I don't think this is really a joking matter, Titus," Harry said. He didn't quite mean for his tone to shift to something as angry as it did.
"Yeah, she's thin, Harry," Titus said, rather curtly. "But you don't really know anything about her."
"She's nowhere near the size her sister was at the same age," Harry said. He remembered Fleur in her swimsuit well enough from the second task. The image was not particularly similar to Gabrielle standing in the mirrors in the studio in her swimsuit.
"Perhaps not," Titus commented. "But she's not her sister."
"I guess not," Harry said. "But don't you think she might have an issue."
"Past a perfectionist instructor and the loss of her family? No." Titus said.
"Why not?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.
"Harry," Titus sighed. "She just went for a five mile run with me. When she asked to go I almost laughed at her. I didn't think there was a chance she'd manage to keep up."
"So?" Harry asked.
"So? By the end of the run she was less winded than I was. And I've got the strangest feeling that I was spending more time trying to keep up with her than she was with me. She's in better shape than probably the both of us," Titus explained. Harry just stared at him. He wasn't particularly sure just why that mattered.
"So?" Harry asked again.
"So people with anorexia typically don't have the energy to run five miles, or dance for hours on end," Titus commented.
"And when did you become an expert?" Harry asked.
"I'm not," Titus said. "But, well, you remember Tracey Davis?"
"Sure," Harry said. He remembered the Slytherin girl in his year well enough. He'd even seen her a couple time post Hogwarts, as she was one of Daphne's friends and they'd wound up at the occasional gathering together.
"She was anorexic," Titus said. "My fifth year, the dementor year, Pomfrey gave everyone in Slytherin a lecture on it because of her. Spent quite a long time going over what to look for and how we could help her out. It was an altogether unpleasant experience. Apparently her mother had always been harsh about weight. And not being perfect in that sense for her parents was something that frightened her to no end. So with the dementors around, she was constantly feeling she was too fat and so she just stopped eating."
"And you're applying that to this?" Harry asked.
"No. I'm just saying that. I wound up dating Tracy during my seventh year. And she talked about it on occasion. Mostly when I asked why she would always monitor exactly what she was eating. She'd talk about how awful she felt during those months. How she'd always feel sick, have a headache, have no energy, have no strength. I don't see any of that from Gabrielle," Titus said.
"I guess not. But she does take some sort of supplemental appetite suppressor every day," Harry said.
"Well, that probably helps rather than hurts," Titus responded.
"Pomfrey didn't like the fact that she'd been on it for a few years," Harry said.
"So it's all probably linked to her dancing," Titus said, drawing the conclusion faster than Harry would have suspected.
"Probably," Harry admitted.
"And look, Harry, I took her to get some breakfast after the walk. She ate a poached egg and some toast with jam. Sure, not a large breakfast, but she ate it and seemed to rather enjoy it. I suspect she wanted more. I don't think Tracey ever wanted more," Titus said. Harry just frowned.
"I still don't like it," he said.
"Yeah, well, that's just what I saw. By the way we're taking her and Mathieu to Moo-Squack on Saturday. She's apparently never had a big greasy cheeseburger and I told her that I would fix that."
"And she agreed?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Titus said. "Without really much convincing." And Harry couldn't help but think of why she wouldn't even take a bite of cake or a brownie without him prodding if she'd agree to eat a burger with Titus Button. Hell, she'd even made a plan to do something involving food with Titus. She'd avoided even attempting to be near food when she was with him. Even at the Café in Bordeaux she'd tried to claim she wasn't hungry.
In fact, all he could really remember her saying was that she wasn't hungry, whether it was when he wanted to order breakfast at the hotel in Bulgaria, or in Bordeaux, or whenever he asked if she wanted food in Falmouth.
And those words had stuck out on the pages that Pomfrey had sent him. That she would likely constantly have that excuse. No matter what he did. That it was one of the hardest things to get the patient to admit.
But she'd gotten food with Titus, and she'd agreed to get more food with Titus. Harry pressed his lips together and wondered just what he'd done wrong. Thankfully a thought popped into his head.
"We agreed to meet with Lunfrey on Saturday night," Harry said.
"Well, drat," Titus responded, not sounding the least bit disappointed. "I guess you can go to that if you want. But I'm going to Moo-Squack and enjoying the best burger in the country." Harry just shook his head. But he couldn't help the smile that came over him. The Ballycastle restaurant certainly had a good burger.
And part of him didn't think it was such a good idea to let Titus and Gabrielle go anywhere together, even if Gabrielle's boyfriend was along for the ride. He knew his friend wouldn't do anything. But reporters were never quite as kind to Titus and anyone in his company as they were to Harry.
"I guess we can cancel on him. We'll probably have a busy practice beforehand, anyway. And I suspect he'll just want to talk more to us after he's hired a new coach," Harry said.
"My thoughts exactly," Titus said. "And anyway, they're apparently announcing the English National Team on Saturday night. I think it's probably best if we're not around Lunfrey at that moment."
"What, you don't want to know how much they're going to sell England Button jerseys for?" Harry teased.
"No," Titus said. "I really don't."
"Either do I," Harry agreed. Titus cleaned his empty cake plate with a flick of his wand and put it back in the drawer. He made sure both the brownies and cake were properly sealed before turning back to his friend.
"And, look, Harry," he started. Harry could sense he was going to attempt to be serious for a moment or two. "You're probably right to be concerned. I think she could probably stand to put a few pounds on. But, from what I've seen, her diet seems fairly regimented."
"You're right," Harry said. "It does." He was reminded of Madame Fay mentioning a food sheet. And he realized he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about at that point. And he wasn't sure what just what that would entail.
"So if you're really concerned, well, you should just talk to her about it. I'm sure she'll talk to you. It'll be uncomfortable, but you may just get some answers."
"I planned on it," Harry said. "But I wanted to learn more about it before I approached her."
"Smart," Titus agreed.
"You really don't think she has an issue?" Harry asked. Titus just seemed to pause and stare at him for a moment.
"I'm not like you, Harry," Titus said. "I don't see someone and think of all the ways I could probably help them. I'm not sure how you manage to do it, to be honest. So I don't think we're approaching this from the same angle."
"I know," Harry said. He and Titus had had this conversation before. Titus admitted to admiring the fact that Harry would go out of his way to help people, even ones he barely knew, purely because he was able to. Titus himself had never really been quite empathetic enough to try that. "But you didn't answer my question."
"I think she has more than one issue," Titus admitted. "But I think food intake is, at worst, third on the list. I'd put it behind both the lost family and the fact that she seems torn about whether to not she actually enjoys dancing."
"Speaking of which," Harry said. "Did she speak to you about either of those things?"
"No," Titus said. "When I brought up dancing at breakfast she changed the subject."
"I should have a talk with her," Harry sighed. "I think she only agreed to continue the lessons because I told her it was probably a good idea."
"Well you go do that," Titus said. "I did not get nearly enough sleep last night, and had to work way too hard on my morning exercise. So I'm going to go shower and then nap."
"Have fun," Harry laughed.
"I will," Titus responded before walking up toward his room. Harry watched him go, the beater's words ringing through his head. Could he have simply been thinking too much into things?
He knew that it all came from Daphne muttering that the girl was too thin. Maybe she did just need to put on a couple of pounds. And maybe she would after her life settled into more of a routine. But, Harry thought, it had been more than a few weeks. Things, for him, were almost back to normal. So she had to be in a similar situation herself.
Harry just shook his head and knew that he would do all he could. Even if that just meant keeping an eye on her for the next couple of days, and making a judgment from there. Still, he couldn't resign himself to there not being something more sinister at play.
Friday's practice was like nothing the Falmouth Falcons had experienced in years. Only the team's keeper coach stayed on staff with the departure of Davis and the other coaches. Harry knew that Lunfrey would have his work cut out for him. But he had until Tuesday, when the Falcons would play the Tornadoes, to assemble a coaching staff.
And really, he could always hire on friends and cronies for a match or two while everything panned out. He just needed to makes sure they met the allotted number of coaches for the match.
But that Friday they'd practiced with just one coach. Titus had run everything, well, at least after Lunfrey had given a speech about how the team had decided to go in a different direction and he felt It was best if a new coach was brought in.
Titus led the players out to the pitch. And he organized the drills and seemed to be flying around, everywhere, shouting encouragement, seeing plays, commenting on what occurred and many other things of that nature. He seemed to catch every detail. Harry couldn't help but smile as he saw Titus beaming at the players. His friend was doing what he did best.
And everything during the practice just felt lighter and easier. By the time they were finished, in about half the time of a Ralph Davis practice, the entire team felt better. They were actually laughing and joking with each other as they returned to the locker room.
Lunfrey did not come in after practice. In fact, he'd left the stadium about five minutes into the practice, obviously deciding that he should let Titus do his thing, rather than interfere. It worked out for the best.
The team actually hung out in the locker room after the practice, too. Which was a nice touch, Harry thought. It was something that they hadn't done in his tenure with the team. Harry would have probably stayed longer. But he promised Gabrielle he'd head home after the match so she wouldn't be alone when Matheiu got there.
He and Titus both found that to be a little bit of a strange request. After all, what sixteen year old couple did not want to be unsupervised, especially after not seeing each other for nearly a month?
Eva claimed to understand where she was coming from. She gave the boys some sort of lecture on how the French girl was simply trying to make sure she did not take advantage of their trust or something. If both the boys were honest, they didn't pay that close of attention while the chaser talked.
Regardless, Harry left as the mood in the locker room was in full swing. Someone, he thought Sarah Foster, made a joke about having to get home to his wife. But Harry didn't dignify it with a comment.
Gabrielle was nowhere to be found when he entered the house. He wandered around the lower level, wondering just what she was up to. But he did not find here there. He hadn't really expected to. But he thought there was at least a small chance that she was practicing in her studio.
When he didn't find her, Harry simply waited to see if she'd make an appearance. But she didn't, so when Mathieu was due to arrive in about fifteen minutes he wandered up to her room. The door was closed over, he could see a bit of light streaming through. But he knocked anyway.
"Come in," Gabrielle said. He pushed the door open and looked at her, mostly seeing her reflection in the full view mirror in her room. She was wearing a green dress. He couldn't help but think that it was one of the few times she would wear anything that wasn't blue or purple.
The skirt of the dress fell down to her knees, her upper body was completely covered. It appeared to be semi-formal, and far more formal than Harry would have suspected for the occasion. She'd also done her hair up in an elaborate bun, much like the one she danced with, but this time she'd allowed a couple of the silky blonde strands to slip out along the sides and fall around her ears.
In addition to all of that, her fingernails were painted a green that matched the dress she was wearing. He suspected, and he had no reason for suspecting it, but he did, none the less, that her toes also matched her fingers.
Her cheeks looked very pale, but her lips were accented in a pink that was only a few shades darker than her normal color. She had some green eye shadow on to complete the look. Harry tilted his head to the side and just stared at her for a moment.
"Mathieu is going to be here in a few moments," he said quietly as he stared at her.
"I know," Gabrielle responded.
"So we should probably go down to the fire," Harry said.
"I am not ready," Gabrielle frowned. Harry just stared at her for a moment longer.
"How are you not ready?" he asked.
"I do not know" Gabrielle admitted. "I just do not feel ready." She was staring at herself in the mirror. Every now and then she would shift her weight around and examine one part of herself in the mirror.
"Well you look ready to go to a ball," Harry said. "Was something wrong with jeans and a tank top?"
"Mathieu likes formality," Gabrielle admitted.
"I see," Harry said. "Well you have the look down."
"I do not think he will like the eye makeup," Gabrielle frowned. She leaned more toward the mirror as if to inspect it more closely.
"Well he's an idiot if he doesn't. It goes nicely with the outfit," Harry said. If he was honest, he was indifferent on the whole concept. But he figured being complimentary was better a better option than bringing that up.
"I thought so too," Gabrielle said, agreeing with his comment on how it matched her dress.
"So are you ready?" Harry asked again. Gabrielle just frowned into the mirror.
"I do not know," she repeated. "Do I look kissable?"
"What?" Harry asked. He hadn't expected that. She pouted a bit at his lack of an answer.
"My mother always said that whenever you dress up for a boy you should try to look kissable," Gabrielle explained. She seemed to struggle with the vocabulary, but she got the point across.
"I see," Harry said. Again, that did not seem to be a satisfactory response for the girl.
"So," she said, turning back toward him. Her eyes focused on him. She took two steps closer to him, her cheeks flushing a pink that matched her lipstick choice. "Would you want to kiss me?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Harry couldn't quite believe what she was asking him. And he knew there was no good way to answer it. Because if he answered it in the affirmative, she may get the wrong idea. She may think his words mean something different than he intended. And if he answered in the negative, she would likely just feel crushed. Harry swallowed hard and thought about his answer, almost dreading opening his mouth to give it.
"Yes," he answered, far more honestly than he knew he should have. He tried to push Titus's comments about blondes from his mind. But Gabrielle just smiled at him, her entire face brightening.
"Then I am ready," she said. The words echoed through Harry's head. He heard them repeated over and over. And what she was ready for, in Harry's mind, was completely different than what she was actually ready for. And he let his thoughts wander for a few moments too long. He barely even noticed when Gabrielle walked past him, heading downstairs to meet her boyfriend. But he caught up with her after only a few steps.
Mathieu arrived precisely on time. He stepped out of the fire, a small bag with a weekends worth of supplies slung loosely over his shoulder. Gabrielle stood right by the fire, a few feet from where he would step out. Harry hid himself a bit in the corner of the room.
He was a good looking teenager, Harry thought. He was tall and thin with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He was probably an inch shorter than Harry. But Harry couldn't help but notice that there was nothing to him. If it came down to it, he suspected that Gabrielle would be able to thrash him.
But he also understood just what she meant by him liking formal. He wore a formal looking pair of dark pants, and a stiff button-up shirt. It reminded Harry of the type of outfit his agent would have to pick out for an occasion where he and Titus couldn't show up in team wear. Well, she'd only have to pick it out if she cared that the showed up in team wear.
Of course, she wasn't doing much for her cause, either. As she just stood there, waiting, and smiling meekly.
"Gabrielle!" Mathieu said as he stepped from the fire. She opened her arms to him.
"Mathieu," she responded. And they hugged. He leaned down and kissed her. Harry didn't care that he felt like a voyeur. The entire action looked rather contained and careful, though. And a moment later they broke apart.
"I missed you," he said.
"Me too," Gabrielle responded quietly.
"And I am so sorry about your parents. And your sister. Gabrielle, I wish that there was something I could say," he started. Harry noticed that he decided to speak in English. He wondered if the two of them had discussed that before he arrived.
"You have apologized enough for that," Gabrielle said with a frown.
"But in floo and letters does not quite do it justice," Mathieu argued.
"I guess," Gabrielle shrugged her shoulders. "I do not want to talk about it."
"I understand," Mathieu said. He leaned down and kissed her again, very softly. When they broke apart, Gabrielle turned to Harry and spoke.
"Mathieu, this is Harry Potter," she said, gesturing to him. Mathieu stepped past her and offered his hand.
"An honor to meet you, Sir," he said formally.
"Gabrielle has told me a lot about you," Harry said, taking his hand and shaking it. The boy had a rather limp grip. Harry did his best to not frown at it.
"Good things, I hope," Mathieu smiled. Harry had heard about a hundred variations of that line in the last year, so he didn't justify it with a comment.
"We've set up a room for you down the hall if you'd like to drop your stuff off and take a moment to get situated," Harry said. Gabrielle looked a little surprised. She probably suspected that he would have just taken one of the second floor guest rooms that Sophia and Josephine had occupied a few weeks earlier. But Harry figured that placing him on the first floor would at least make him work for it. And having to sneak past all three of their rooms to get to his girlfriend was certainly earning it.
"I would like that," Mathieu said. "I'm sure Gabrielle can show me to it." He turned his gaze toward her. She still looked fairly startled but nodded.
"Of course," she said. And the two of them walked down the hall toward the first floor guest room.
"And keep the door open," Harry yelled after them. He intended for it to be a joke, but it didn't sound as funny aloud as it had in his head. The French teens obeyed him, though. As he did not hear the door to the bedroom close as he waited in the living room.
The two teens emerged about a half hour later. Gabrielle looked a little ruffled, and her lipstick was smeared. However, she wasn't blushing like Harry was used to seeing, especially after any form of contact. So he assumed that they'd kept it pretty tame. Also Mathieu looked exactly the same as he had when he entered the room, except he'd left his bag.
They exchanged pleasantries again. Mostly Harry just watched the couple. Gabrielle stood next to him and didn't say a whole lot. Mostly she let him speak for her. Harry could tell that Mathieu liked to talk and Gabrielle had no problem with letting him talk.
Eventually they decided to head into town for a dinner date. Harry smiled and told them to have a good time. He was tempted to give Gabrielle some coins, to pay, but he figured that Mathieu should pay. So he just watched them leave. He could hear Mathieu's voice ringing through the entry hall as they did. He was regaling her with stories of his summer so far. Gabrielle responded to them at the appropriate time.
Once they left, Harry wasn't sure what to think. In his first few minutes meeting the French boy, his first thought was that he'd certainly met more annoying teenagers.
But Harry wasn't sure how much he liked that Gabrielle just seemed to follow him, and let him lead. She seemed to simply agree to what he wanted to do. But perhaps she was just being a good host, and deciding to show him part of Falmouth. After all, that was what he would have done if a visitor was there to see him.
So really, he decided that he shouldn't think too much about it. He debated flooing Daphne and asking if she wanted to go to dinner. But he decided that it would be best if he just stayed home and waited for the young couple.
And so he waited for them to return, reading the world cup speculation in the evening paper and thinking that there were far worse ways to spend an evening.
Author's Note: As always thanks for reading and reviewing. I do appreciate it. The best way to contact me is typically through PM on the website. I try to respond to every one of those that I receive and am willing to discuss just about anything.