Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
Chapter 21
Harry only spared the briefest of glances toward Gabrielle's door when he emerged the next morning. He suspected the girl was going to have a rough morning, despite the potion he'd given her the night before. He was still surprised that she managed to keep up with him the entire night, matching him nearly sip for sip on the wine. He wondered if she'd even realized she was doing it.
Either way, he shook the thought out of his head before moving down toward the kitchen. His thoughts didn't linger on the young French girl for long. Instead they shifted to more pressing matters, like what he should make himself for breakfast.
"You're up early," he heard from the kitchen. He wasn't particularly surprised that Titus was already awake. The beater usually woke before him. From the look of it he was about to go on his morning run.
"I guess," Harry shrugged. "Hadn't really thought about it, just sort of woke up and actually didn't feel like being in bed."
"Unusual for you," Titus teased. "Going to join me on my morning run? Elle mentioned that she was thinking about coming."
"I doubt she'll be awake for a while," Harry said. "She was pretty hammered when we got home last night."
"Oh? You got the Frenchie drunk?" Titus asked.
"She did it mostly to herself," Harry responded. "I just didn't cut her off at any point."
"How'd that go?" Titus asked.
"Fairly well. It actually hit her in a hurry on the way home. Either that or she just hid it well," Harry said.
"I mean more the night rather than her drinking," Titus teased.
"It was fun," Harry said. "Pretty standard."
"Standard, eh?" Titus smirked at his friend. Harry just shrugged and looked at him.
"Yeah," he admitted, not sure what Titus was implying.
"Well then, how was she?" Titus asked.
"I didn't sleep with her," Harry sighed. He shook his head that Titus would even ask, but the question did draw a small smile out of the seeker.
"Well then it wasn't that standard of a date, now was it?" Titus asked.
"I guess not," Harry shrugged his shoulders. "But you know, I don't bed them all after the first date."
"Well maybe not the ones that freak you out," Titus countered, but a moment later he smirked. "Oh so the girl freaked you out? What baby talk already? And here I thought athletic little blondes were your thing."
"Adult ones, maybe," Harry shrugged. He started on some tea and moved over to the counter. He wasn't paying attention to his conversation with Titus. Instead he moved over toward the fridge and grabbed a mixed berry assortment from inside, figuring that would make a tolerable breakfast.
"Ouch. I'm going to tell her you said that," Titus laughed.
"Okay," Harry said, sipping his tea. He saw the morning paper on the counter and looked at it.
"Not even a little response?" Titus laughed.
"Weren't you going for a run?" Harry countered.
"Eventually," Titus said.
"Anything good in the paper?" Harry asked, peering down at it. Titus had it opened to the quidditch standings and box scores from the night before.
"Couple things," Titus said. "I'd suggest starting in sports and making your way through business to the front page."
"What, no spoilers?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not today," Titus said as he walked toward the door, heading out for his run.
"Well that's annoying," Harry said. But he picked up the paper and flipped it open. It was still folded over to the sports section and it didn't take him long to find what must have been one of the articles Titus was referring to.
Lunfrey certainly hadn't taken much time after he'd sat down with Harry and Titus to hire a new coach. Harry had left that dinner assuming Amanda Oleson was the likely candidate. Apparently they'd announced it after the match the previous evening. But Harry hadn't bothered to stick around or pay attention to the news after.
The article recapping the hire wasn't particularly interesting. It simply recapped her accomplishments with other teams. It didn't speculate one way or another about the hire, except to wonder who she would bring in as assistants.
Harry was reasonably surprised that he didn't have an owl waiting from Daphne telling him he needed to be at some promotional press conference for the new coach. But he suspected that Lunfrey was figuring out that there were certain points where the players just shouldn't be involved.
After he grew uninterested with reading about the coach's history so he flipped toward the business section of the paper. There was a lengthy article discussing possible futures of the Weasley joke shop. Harry skimmed it. It seemed that Percy and Charlie were likely going to go ahead with a sale of it and its assets. He only got about halfway through the article before he decided he didn't want to read any more of it.
So he flipped to the front page and had to read the headline four times before he could truly believe it. He put the paper down onto the counter without reading any further. He stood there, for just a few moments, before simply apparating away.
"You left the stove on," Gabrielle chastised as the door to the home opened.
"I didn't turn the stove on," Titus said. He wandered toward the kitchen and stared at the young dancer. She looked exhausted. Her shoulders slouched over the stove. She wasn't wearing her typical exercise attire, forgoing it for what Titus could only assume was her pajamas. A strap of her tank top slipped off her shoulder. She adjusted it while pouring herself some tea.
"Then why was it on?" Gabrielle asked.
"Harry must have been making tea. He's the only one that doesn't bother just doing it magically," Titus shrugged.
"Oh. I assumed he was not awake yet," Gabrielle said as she steeped her tea. To Titus's surprise she picked up a cookie and ate half of it in one bight. He suspected that she was probably a little bit hung over. But that certainly wasn't going to prevent him from teasing her.
"I'd have assumed you would know when he was awake," Titus smirked. Gabrielle just looked up at him. Her blue eyes were a little bleary.
"How would I know that?" she asked, sipping her tea and trying her best to soak up the caffeine.
"Well you brought him home after a date," Titus said. He summoned a bottle of water out of the fridge and cracked it open.
"Because we live at the same house," Gabrielle said, shaking her head.
"Uh-huh, that sounds like the type of excuse I'd try to use," Titus said.
"Well it is not an excuse," Gabrielle frowned. Titus nodded and summoned a couple of cookies to him and ate them quickly. "And those are killing the fact that you just finished exercising."
"Maybe, but they're delicious," Titus said.
"Well I am glad you are enjoying them," Gabrielle said. "But they were not for you."
"Harry wouldn't ever eat all of them by himself," Titus said with a charismatic smile. "And not sharing baked goods should be some sort of felony."
"I suppose you are right. Where is Harry, anyway?" Gabrielle asked.
"I don't know," Titus said. He frowned down at the paper on the counter, knowing Gabrielle hadn't read it yet. He didn't really want to be the one who broke the news to her, but he suspected it would be better if he stopped making jokes and attempted to be something that resembled a good person.
"Oh," she frowned. "But he was awake?"
"Yes," Titus said. "Unfortunately he got some bad news."
"What happened?" Gabrielle asked.
"You should probably sit down," Titus said. Gabrielle just leaned against the counter, staring at him.
"I was advised to never do what you suggest," she countered. Titus smiled at her, but simply shook his head and took a deep breath.
"It was in the paper this morning that they found the portkey," he said.
"Oh," Gabrielle said. She put her tea down on the counter and stared at the ground. "And it was bad news?"
"Yes," Titus said. "The German ministry has given up after finding the remnants of it. Their preliminary study found the charm was miscast. So there's going to be an inquiry here. But it was badly burned. They could tell the charm simply failed in transit."
"I see," Gabrielle said quietly. She looked up at him. "Did they find any…" her voice trailed off, but Titus knew exactly what she was asking.
"No," Titus said. "They did not. The article in today's paper had two possible theories."
"What were they?" she asked. Her eyes looked distant and Titus wondered if she even really knew she was asking him questions or not.
"Don't you just want to read the article?" Titus asked. Gabrielle shook her head.
"No, tell me," she said.
"Well the first is that they were thrown off when the magic failed and that they're likely somewhere in the surrounding area. And unlikely to be alive. The second is that they were burned up when the magic failed. Neither are particularly pleasant."
"So they put no hope on survival?" Gabrielle asked.
"Well the prevailing thought is that if they survived, they were all fully trained witches and wizards. It wouldn't have been that hard for them to make it back to civilization. Especially considering it's been two months. And it's not like they were in the middle of nowhere. They found the burned out portkey just south of Munich," Titus explained.
"So where did Harry go?" she asked, doing her best to push any thoughts of finality out of her head. She'd given up hope that her parents and sister were alive nearly two months ago. Somehow she just knew she wouldn't be that luck. But, while this was little more than a confirmation of that, it still struck home.
"I have no idea," Titus said. "I'd suspect somewhere to vent."
"Vent?" she asked, pressing her lips together. In her mind that was more for someone who was angry, and she was not sure why anger would be Harry's primary motivation.
"Well that's perhaps not the right term. Harry likes to hope. So I suspect he assumed his friends would come back at some point. The news today hindered that. So he is probably secluding himself until he comes to terms with it," Titus explained.
"Does that work?" she asked.
"It wouldn't for me. But I'm not Harry. I'd probably be drinking if I were in his, or your, shoes," Titus explained.
"Does that work?" Gabrielle asked again.
"No," Titus said. "But it's better than doing nothing."
"I do not think I would like either method," Gabrielle said.
"Well what will you do, then?" Titus asked. Gabrielle looked at him for a few moments, contemplating her answer.
"I will start by getting dressed and go from there," she admitted. She left her cup of tea on the counter and walked back to the stairs. Titus wasn't sure if he should just let her go. Perhaps she was going back into shock. And perhaps it wasn't the best point to leave her completely alone and isolated at.
But he didn't think he should follow her, either. That certainly wasn't his place. So instead he just watched her go, turning back to the paper as she disappeared from his view. Titus wondered just what he should do, but he was distracted from that when a loud popping noise rang through his kitchen.
"Where's Harry?" Daphne asked immediately.
"It's good to see you too, Miss Greengrass," Titus said.
"Where's Harry," Daphne repeated, crossing her arms over her chest and looking annoyed at the entire situation.
"Oddly enough I don't track his movements," Titus responded.
"Has he seen the paper?" Daphne asked. "Or is he still asleep?" She walked over to the counter and helped herself to a cookie.
"Yes," Titus said.
"So he's not here?" Daphne asked.
"Not that I'm aware of," Titus said. Daphne just stared at him, picked up another cookie, and walked upstairs. Titus moved toward the counter and peered through the paper again. He took a moment to check the standings and the scores from the night before.
A few moments later he heard another pop and looked up to see Fay walking down the hallway toward the makeshift studio. The instructor ignored him, as she always did. Titus was half tempted to flirt with her, just to see what he could get out of it. But he figured that would be too much trouble
Of course, he hadn't seen Gabrielle since she walked back up to her room but assumed that Fay wouldn't be pleased with her in a few moments. Of course, Fay being displeased seemed to be a common occurrence. Fay disappeared into the studio and a few moments later Titus heard the piano. He suspected Gabrielle could hear it upstairs as well.
Daphne came back down the stairs a moment later and looked at him.
"Did he go to London?" she asked.
"I don't know, Daph, I haven't seen him," Titus responded. She bit her lip and shook her head. But a few moments later her demeanor shifted, becoming instantly professional.
"You're expected at the stadium this evening," she said.
"For the press conference?" Titus asked. "I'm surprised that Lunfrey or Oleson want players present for that. Although it wouldn't shock me if he just wanted to get pictures of players smiling in some sort of community."
"After, actually," Daphne said. "Apparently Oleson wants to meet with all of the players individually before the next match."
"Alright," Titus said. "Any specific time set up?"
"No. I'd shoot for around eight if I were you. She wanted to meet with you and Harry first. But I'm not sure how feasible getting Harry there will be," Daphne said.
"I'm sure he'll go. Focusing on quidditch will do him good," Titus said.
"Probably," Daphne responded. "Anyway, I'll go check out London. Have him floo me if he shows up." And she simply apparated away before waiting for Titus to respond. He shrugged his shoulders and summoned a cupcake from the counter, deciding that was better than making an effort for breakfast, despite the cookies he'd already consumed.
He couldn't help but wonder just what Harry was up to. But he felt that Daphne was probably barking up the wrong tree at the moment. If Harry really wanted to be around people, he'd have likely stayed at the house. Of course, Titus knew that she was simply, to some extent, doing her job. But Titus thought that would be better achieved with an owl.
Titus expected, though, that it would be an interesting offseason for his friend. Things were certainly different than before. He wondered just how the seeker was coping. He seemed even more reserved, if such a thing were possible.
At the very least he thought it would be an interesting end to the season. He knew that if they were still in Ballcastle, and sitting a few games ahead of everyone in the standings, that coach Barker would have told him to take a few days and get his head in order before he worried about it.
And that was probably what Harry needed. But the team had no reservist at seeker. Maybe he'd suggest something to Oleson that evening. Perhaps against one of the weaker opponents coming up they could start Eva at seeker and hope that they could just put up one-fifty in a hurry. He let the quidditch strategy wheels turn in his head, at least until he was interrupted once again.
Gabrielle ran down the stairs, slipping on the third-to-last step and nearly falling over as she hit the ground floor. She was in a pale blue leotard and leg warmers. She had the ribbons of her pink pointe shoes in her hands and looked very alarmed. She was working on attempting to get her hair into a bun as she moved too.
"Woah, Careful," Titus said. Gabrielle paused and stared at him. She seemed to realize that just about the only thing worse than being late for her class with Fay would be showing up as disheveled as she looked. She took a deep breath and finished with her hair.
"Madame Fay is here?" she asked, looking down the hallway toward the sound of the piano music.
"Yes," Titus said. Gabrielle sat in a nearby chair and slipped her shoes on, taking a few moments to affix each of them. Titus thought they looked alarmingly uncomfortable, but it wasn't his place to comment.
"She was not supposed to be here this morning. She thought I needed a couple of days off. She said that I should rest up as the show practices are getting more strenuous!" Gabrielle looked alarmed. Titus just shrugged a little bit.
"Well she hasn't yelled at me yet, so she may not be furious at you," Titus teased. Gabrielle just rolled her eyes. She stood up from her chair and immediately lifted herself up onto her toe. She checked her balance and fell back onto her feet.
"How long has she been here?" Gabrielle frowned. Titus stared at her for a moment. Not only did she look hung over, but her eyes were rather red. He suspected she'd spent a bit simply crying in her room.
"I don't know, twenty minutes maybe?" Titus shrugged. "I wasn't paying that close of attention. What's she playing anyway?"
"It is from Giselle," Gabrielle shrugged. "It is actually one of my favorite pieces."
"Huh," Titus said, not willing to admit he had no idea what Giselle was. "It sounds interesting."
"Walk with me? I do not know if I can face her alone," Gabrielle admitted.
"You just want her to yell at me instead of you," Titus said.
"Correct," Gabrielle nodded. Titus slipped off of the stool and gestured for her to walk in front of him and they both moved down the hallway.
"You doing okay?" Titus asked, realizing that they really didn't have the time for that conversation now. But thankfully, Gabrielle nodded.
"I guess," she said. "I had been preparing myself for it anyway. I did not expect them to be alive."
"It still sucks to have it confirmed," Titus said.
"It does," she agreed, before ending the conversation by stepping into the room where Fay was playing the piano. The instructor didn't look up from the piano, instead she simply kept playing, finishing the piece.
"Gabrielle," she said softly as she finished playing. Titus noticed the girl stiffened, ready to be chastised as the instructor stood. But Fay simply walked over to her student and hugged her tightly. Gabrielle tensed, but Titus saw her relax after a few moments. He noticed Fay waving him out of the room, so he turned and left, figuring they would be best left alone.
"How are you?" Fay asked as soon as Titus left the room. Gabrielle could do little more than shrug her shoulders. The tears had not returned, but she could feel them coming. She just nodded against her instructors embrace. Fay did not seem to mind her silence. Eventually, though, she knew she would have to speak. So she did.
"I am okay," she said meekly. Fay frowned, although the little dancer wasn't looking at her instructor.
"Are you positive?" Fay asked.
"No," Gabrielle admitted. "But I have to be okay."
"What?" Fay asked again.
"I cannot not be okay," she said. Fay could sense that the girl wanted to say more. But she simply stopped talking, as if that was good enough explanation. Fay sensed she was going to have to pressure the girl into talking.
"It is okay to be upset, Gabrielle," Fay said. Her student just nodded.
"I know, Madame, but I spent too long being upset already. Today was not news. It was," Gabrielle paused, slipping from her instructor and shrugging her shoulders. "I do not know what it was. But I guess it was more of a confirmation than anything else."
"Are you sure?" Fay asked.
"Yes," Gabrielle said. "But I am sorry that I was late for our lesson. What did you want to cover today?" Even though she was positive that the instructor had told her to take a couple of days off, she wasn't about to bring that up while Fay was in the room.
"Oh Gabrielle," Fay sighed. "We are not having a lesson today. I just wanted to check up on you."
"Oh," Gabrielle said. She was relieved by that. She felt tired, and still hung-over, and was sure that whatever dancing she managed that morning would not be remotely near what Fay expected from her on a daily basis.
"I know that dancing could be cathartic to me. I wondered if you would not feel the same way," Fay said. It was quite possibly the most personal thing the instructor had ever said to the student. Gabrielle couldn't do much more than stare at her instructor before coming up with an excuse to get out of it.
"I do not know," Gabrielle said. "I do not feel that well. Physically."
"What's wrong?" Fay asked, immediately shifting into an overly-attentive nurse mode. The instructor's eyes slid across her entire body, as if scanning for defects through skin and leotard.
"No, no," Gabrielle said quickly. "I am fine, physically. Like I am not sore and nothing hurts." It was a lie. But she wasn't any sorer than normal, and nothing hurt any more than normal. She couldn't help but wonder just how much time Fay would give her to rest after the show. All she really knew was that the extra practices were starting to take their toll.
"Then what is wrong?" Fay asked.
"I overindulged last evening," Gabrielle admitted.
"Oh yes, you mentioned taking Mr. Potter out for his birthday," Fay said. Gabrielle was moderately surprised that the instructor remembered that specifically. She had never really gotten the impression that Fay really cared about what she did outside of ballet.
"Yes," Gabrielle said. "And I had too much wine and not enough water. And I do not think I got enough sleep." She felt immediately self-conscious as she admitted it. The instructor stared at her, with her arms crossed over her chest.
But then the instructor surprised her. She let her arms down and actually smiled, shaking her head.
"Gabrielle," she chided, but her voice was soft. Fay brought a hand up to her face and Gabrielle thought it looked like she was suppressing a laugh.
"What?" the student asked. She leaned against a wall, wishing there were chairs in her make-shift studio.
"I should scold you. But in twelve years you have never once done anything out of line. I was beginning to wonder if you knew what fun was," Fay said. Gabrielle looked away, meekly, avoiding looking at her instructor.
"I am sorry," Gabrielle said.
"Don't be. You did nothing wrong. And you were not supposed to have a rehearsal today. I would be cross with you had I expected you to dance this morning. But you should have a little more amusement in your life," Fay explained.
"I did not even realize it until we stood to leave. After that I felt like, well, like I pirouetted my way home," Gabrielle sighed. Fay actually laughed aloud, which just made her student blush.
"Sometimes that will happen. I trust you will be more careful when you are expected to perform in the morning," Fay said, and Gabrielle sensed that the instructor was attempting to end that conversation.
"I will be," Gabrielle nodded.
"Good. And I trust nothing inappropriate happened with Mr. Potter," Fay said, her voice gaining an extra emphasis as she ended the sentence.
"Of course not," Gabrielle scoffed. "I am not that type of girl."
"Good," Fay said. Gabrielle did not have the strength to point out that she was an adult and that it was really no concern of Fay's if something happened one way or another.
"Why did you come today?" Gabrielle asked.
"I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay," Fay responded.
"Could that not have waited until noon?" Gabrielle asked, wondering just when she started sounding like her friends, or Harry, who never seemed to be around in the morning if it could all be avoided.
"Of course not," Fay countered. "Now come, let's find some cappuccino or at least some decent coffee rather than that English tea swill they make."
"I do not think they have a cappuccino machine," Gabrielle said.
"You are a witch, Gabrielle," Fay chastised as she slipped her own wand into her hand and walked out of the studio. Gabrielle followed her. She suspected that the quidditch players would have been a little annoyed that their microwave transformed into a cappuccino machine. But she didn't really recall any of them using it, anyway.
Fay made two cups quickly. Gabrielle sat on the couch usually occupied by Titus Button and waited to be served. Madame brought it over to her and surprised Gabrielle by placing three of the colorful cookies on the table next to her student before she sat in a nearby chair. Gabrielle sniffed at it before taking a sip. Honestly, she would have rather had water. Or lemonade. But she wasn't going to argue that with her instructor. And Madame Fay was obsessive over her coffee. Gabrielle expected it had something to do with some Italian heritage. She had never really asked the instructor about her life outside of dance. Of course, she did not think this was the time to do so.
They sat in silence. Each sipping their drink. Gabrielle did her best to not make a face with every sip. She sensed that the instructor was probably not going to leave her alone for most of the day. Perhaps she was attempting to make up for not being present in Romania. Gabrielle may have appreciated her more there. Now, though, it simply seemed excessive. And she knew that she would grow annoyed with her presence shortly if they simply sat in silence.
"May I ask you something, madame?" she asked quietly. There was one question in particular that was bothering her. A point that Harry had raised what seemed like ages ago that she simply had not had the courage to confront yet.
"Of course," Fay responded while keeping her focus entirely on her cup.
"Am I larger than Fleur was at seventeen?" she asked quietly. And she was very surprised when the instructor nearly choked on her drink as she asked the question.
"No," Fay said bluntly after taking a few seconds to compose herself.
"Oh," Gabrielle looked down toward the cup in her hands.
"You have never been larger than your sister," Fay said. "At seventeen your sister was taller than you. Probably a good ten to fifteen centimeters. And she probably had a good ten to fifteen kilos on you too."
"I see," Gabrielle said.
"You have always been a petite girl," Fay said. "You could actually probably stand to put on a little weight. Why do you ask?"
"I was just curious," Gabrielle said. She reached for one of the cookies and ate it quickly. Madame did not seem to notice.
"Did someone comment?" Fay asked, intrigued by the subject. Gabrielle had never brought up her height or weight before. The instructor was almost convinced that her student didn't care about such things. But she knew better than that.
"No," Gabrielle said. "I was just remembering something from last summer."
"What?" Fay asked. Gabrielle shook her head and ate a second cookie.
"It is not important," Gabrielle said.
"Did you think you were larger than your sister?" Fay asked.
"I do not know," Gabrielle admitted. "I have a hard time comparing the two of us. Mother mentioned it on a couple of occasions."
"Well your mother was," Fay shook her head. "It doesn't matter really. And it would not do any good for me to speak ill of them."
"My mother was what?" Gabrielle asked, her tone changing in an instant. To her surprise Fay answered her question, rather than simply brushing it off as she would typically do in such situations.
"Your mother was fixated too much on weight," Fay explained. "She did not like that I did not monitor it more. She thought weight was crucial for success as a dancer."
"Is it not?" Gabrielle asked.
"It is not essential," Fay explained. "Certainly you would like to fit into a certain type. Which you do. But ability is more important. As well as having the endurance to get through the routines."
"Getting through the organized rehearsals is challenging," Gabrielle admitted. "I feel more worn out."
"Yes. It will always be like that leading up to a show. You learn to cope with it. You will grow accustomed to it. Directors usually know when to give a dancer some time to rest. Although do not ask for it."
"I will not. Although I have been doing more observing than dancing lately," Gabrielle said. Fay nodded.
"I expected that would happen soon. Are you confident with your parts?" Fay asked.
"I thought my introduction would be more difficult. But I am not having much difficulty with it. I feel I need to work more on the final act. But I think everyone probably does," Gabrielle admitted. She knew that Fay came to, and observed, most of their rehearsals. But the teacher hadn't ever really spoken to her about it, except to tell her to trust what the director told her. This was the first time she'd asked for her student's opinion on the show.
"Well you have some time yet," Fay said.
"Two weeks," Gabrielle frowned. "And one of them is supposed to be just dry runs of the entire performance."
"That is plenty of time," Fay said.
"I hope so," Gabrielle sighed. "I am actually nervous for the show."
"Do not be," Fay countered. "You will be fantastic."
"I hope so," Gabrielle smiled.
"You are working hard enough. And you are very talented, Gabrielle. Just remember that in the long run, it is simply a show. No matter what happens, it will not define you. Enjoy it. Just go out there and dance. Have fun. And worry about everything else once the curtain drops," Fay said.
"I will," she said. "But it is not a little early to be giving me such advice?"
"It is never too early for advice," Fay said, finishing her drink after she spoke.
"I just hope I don't fall," Gabrielle admitted.
"Everyone falls," Fay said. "Just get up and keep dancing. The crowd will appreciate that all the more. But do not make a habit out of it."
"I do not plan on it," she said.
"But you are doing alright?" Fay asked after a moment.
"I am fine," Gabrielle said. "Sad, but I will be okay."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Madame Fay said. Gabrielle just nodded.
"It is tough. But it is better than it was. I remember Harry telling me that things never really got back to normal. And I am starting to realize just what he meant. Things are not as good as they were. And they probably will never be again. But I am content. And life goes on," Gabrielle said.
"When did he tell you that?" Fay asked.
"When we were in Romania. He was very kind and tried to get me to not focus on what had just happened. He helped a great deal," Gabrielle said.
"I am glad he managed to help you," Fay said. "But I think it is time for me to head home for the day. Floo me if you need anything, Gabrielle. If not I will see you on Monday. We will review all of your parts before your next group rehearsal,"
"Thank you, Madame," Gabrielle said. And Madame Fay simply nodded at her before gathering up the now empty cups, along with Gabrielle's third cookie. She magically cleaned the dishes before banishing them back to their cabinets and ate the cookie before saying goodbye once more and exiting the home.
Gabrielle walked back up to her room immediately after Fay left. She sat on her bed and slowly removed her flats. She placed them carefully next to her bed before taking a minute to simply rub her feet. They didn't hurt any more than normal, but it still felt incredible.
She closed her eyes and just kept rubbing her feet, alternating between the two. She sighed contentedly, enjoying the softness of her own hands on her skin. She couldn't help but smile wryly to herself as she wondered why Mathieu had never fully realized just what she'd be willing to do for a foot massage.
After a few moments she stood up and pulled off her leotard and then her leg warmers and stood in front of her mirror. She just made a face at the girl that stared back at her, pressing her lips together and looking concerned.
For a moment Gabrielle tried to picture what she would look like if she weighed ten more kilos, but in her mind all the weight went straight to her chest and hips, and that just made for an odd image. She shook those thoughts out of her head.
She gazed around the floor of her room, looking for the pajamas she'd discarded when she'd first realized the piano music meant Fay was downstairs. But in her haste she'd managed to actually get those into her laundry basket. And while fishing them out wouldn't have been a big deal, it would have required either walking over to them, or walking over to her wand so she could summon them. Both of those options seemed excessive when she was standing next to her dresser.
So instead she opened one of the drawers and grabbed whatever was on top. It was a thin, silky nightgown. So at least she'd grabbed sleepwear. It was something she'd never actually worn before either, well, unless modeling it for Sophie counted. She'd purchased it intending to model it for Mathieu when he visited. Sophie said she'd be irresistible in it.
Gabrielle slipped it on and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't think irresistible was the proper word. The purple fabric hung down to just above her knee. The rest of it clung to her, showing off her figure quite well. She couldn't help but think that the top half would have looked better had she been a little more endowed.
But she figured that she couldn't change that, so it didn't really matter. So she just shrugged and pulled her hair out of the bun she'd thrown it in as she ran down the stairs. Once it was loose, she moved back to her bed and crawled into the mess of covers. She grabbed her wand off of her bedside table and used it to switch off the lights and turn on her ceiling fan before she cuddled with one of her softer blankets.
Her thoughts immediately shifted to her family. But those thoughts did not last. She did not want to spend more time dwelling on that Most of the morning was enough. At least for now.
Eventually, they shifted to Harry. He was in the same situation as her. But somehow she doubted that he was taking it as well. Especially since Titus had said he had been around earlier in the morning. She hoped he was doing well.
Part of her wondered just why he had wanted to be alone. She did not really want to be alone at the moment. Perhaps, she thought, she should have attempted to get Fay to stay longer. At least until someone else was up and about. Maybe she should have just danced, too. That would have occupied her thoughts more than wondering what Harry was up to.
Mostly she wondered if there was anything she could do to help him. She doubted it. And she was certainly coming up dry on ideas. Maybe if she had not already baked everything she knew how to bake. Of course with how readily the cookies and cupcakes were vanishing she suspected that they would be appreciated nonetheless.
But anyway she figured that was out. And really, there was only one thing that her mind kept coming back to when it came to doing something for Harry to cheer him up. And while it was not an altogether unpleasant idea, she did not know how practical it was.
That didn't prevent her from sighing and letting her hands slide down her hips as thoughts of Harry Potter came to mind. She imagined he would be gentle. That he would caress her, and whisper to her. She imagined that his weight would not feel suffocating, but would rather just be a welcome warmth.
She imagined his touch. She imagined it being so very soft on his skin. She could feel it teasing her, coaxing her. She could hear him whispering to her. He whispered nothing of importance, but his words were only for her. His breath another soft caress on her skin.
She imagined his lips. She imagined them everywhere on her. They were soft as they gently pressed against hers. And then she imagined him moving against her, and then him moving with her. She could feel him pressing down to her as she squirmed up against him. In her mind she could see his green eyes locked onto hers.
His imagined words filled her thoughts. His imagined compliments spurring her efforts before his imagined warmth filled her.
She imagined laying with him after. Her head resting on his chest as the soft blankets caressed the both of them. She imagined his caress, up and down her back, as she imagined drifting off to sleep.
The loud banging on her door startled her. She did not think she has fallen asleep. But she had certainly been close to that point. The banging paused for a moment. Long enough for Gabrielle to curl back into the blanket. Before it began anew.
"What?" she groaned while sitting up on her bed. She was not sure when, or for that matter how, her arm had managed to slip completely from her gown, causing the garment to fall across her front as she rose. But she rectified that quickly.
"Good, you're awake. I need your help," Daphne said from just beyond the door. Gabrielle sighed and stood, wobbling slightly as she moved toward the door. She opened it and stared at the other woman.
"With what?" Gabrielle asked. But Daphne just stared at her for a few moments.
"You wear that around the house?" she asked.
"No," Gabrielle said. "It is pajamas."
"Good. I'm not sure that's an appropriate outfit for being around two distinctly male quidditch players," Daphne said as the flushed teenager looked away from her.
"What do you need?" Gabrielle attempted to steer the conversation back to its origin.
"Just get dressed and come downstairs," Daphne said. She sounded rather exasperated as she took a moment to check the small golden watch on her left wrist. Gabrielle looked at her for a moment before yawning and shaking her head.
"I am going to go back to sleep," Gabrielle said.
"Please Ellie," Daphne spoke up. "I really need a favor."
"But you will not tell me what it is?" Gabrielle countered.
"I don't really know what it is. I just need your help! I'm running ragged. I'm late for a meeting right now and I don't know what else to do," Daphne said. Gabrielle thought she looked a little flustered. Her hair was not in as intricate of a style as it normally was and she seemed a bit more flushed than normal.
"Can I at least shower first?" Gabrielle asked, realizing that she was agreeing before she even knew what she was getting into.
"You are a witch!" Daphne responded with a hint of annoyance.
"Fine. Just let me change," Gabrielle sighed. She closed the door practically on the agents face before moving toward her dresser.
She dressed quickly, throwing on a black skirt and a periwinkle button up blouse. She grabbed a hair tie off of her dresser and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She examined herself in the mirror after she was finished dressing. She did not think she looked particularly nice. But she did not feel like putting forth much more effort at that point. So she just walked to the door.
Gabrielle was not particularly surprised when Daphne was not standing outside of it. She turned and walked down the hallway and down the stairs. She was reasonably more surprised when she noticed that Daphne was not in the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest and paced around, wondering where the older woman went.
It took her about five minutes to notice the note left on the kitchen counter. She wandered over and read it. It just said an address and claimed that Harry was there. Gabrielle sighed and walked toward the back of the house to where the floo was housed. She tossed the powder into the fire before stepping through.
She took a moment when she arrived to simply brush the dust from her outfit. Then she looked around. She was not quite sure where she expected to show up, but wherever she was, was not it.
Gabrielle stood in a large sitting room. It was filled with dark yet very ornate furnishings. If she had to guess she would have assumed they were from the early Victorian era and looked to be in impeccable condition. One entire wall of the room was a bookcase, and everything was immaculate. She took a moment to take everything in before stepping out into a long hallway.
She peered into the rooms as she walked down the hallway, looking for any sign of Harry. They were all fairly similar to the first room she'd arrived in and did not warrant any further exploration.
At the end of the hallway she found herself in a large foyer. She could see a kitchen and a staircase down another hallway. But she ignored those and looked instead toward the room nearest to her. It appeared to be a fairly large ballroom and she suspected that whoever owned the building had often used it to entertain.
All she really knew was that Harry was not in the ballroom. So she stepped away from it and looked out the nearby windows. The cityscape outside looked fairly busy. Nothing about it really gave away where she was. But she had an odd feeling that it was London. And something about how the building made her feel reminded her of how Hermione had described their headquarters in her book.
Of course, she had kept the location secret in the book. But Gabrielle had a fairly good idea that she was currently in that home. It struck her as odd that Harry would still use it as a home, after everything that happened. But he had mentioned a London home. And it was a location that very few people knew existed. So perhaps it suited him perfectly.
Eventually she moved to the stairs and looked around the second level. As a whole it appeared to be filled with bedrooms. They were all unoccupied but the furnishings in most were distinctly more modern than the ones down below.
It did not take her long to decide that there was nothing of note for her on the second level. So instead she walked back to the stairs and moved up to the third level. There was much less up there. Really, there was just a small hallway leading to one door, which was locked. So she knocked. There wasn't any answer. So she knocked again, louder.
"Yes Daph," an annoyed voice rang out through the door. "I realize I have to meet with the coach."
"I am not Daphne," Gabrielle said. Harry didn't respond. But there was a soft clicking noise from the door, so she opened it and walked in.
The room was dominated by a large, curtained bed. They were mostly pulled back and she could see him resting there. He was looking at her, but his eyes seemed miles away. She looked away from him and gazed around the room.
There was a desk in one corner, pushed up against a window. There were some books littered across the surface, but nothing about it appeared to have been used recently. Nearby was a standard looking walk-in closet. A tall dresser was wedged into the corner next to the closet. A door leading to a large bathroom was ajar on the opposite wall.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked. Gabrielle turned her gaze back to him and shrugged her shoulders.
"Daphne asked me to help her out with something. By the time I got dressed she was gone and there was just a note with this address. So I came looking for you," Gabrielle explained.
"And she didn't tell you anything more than that?" Harry asked. He propped himself up on his pillows. Gabrielle noticed that he was not wearing a shirt. But he was almost entirely underneath the blankets.
"She did not," Gabrielle affirmed.
"I see," Harry said. For some reason Gabrielle did not think that he believed her.
"How are you?" she asked, changing the subject. He looked at her for a moment before answering.
"I don't know," he said.
"I know the feeling," she responded. She took a few steps closer to the bed. "I think that Daphne was hoping I could cheer you up."
"I would suspect you do," he sighed.
"So are you doing alright?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he responded.
"Okay," she said, feeling a little silly just standing there and looking at him. Thankfully, he spoke up again.
"I feel lost," he admitted.
"How so?" she asked.
"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I guess just that it's all real now, you know?" he said. She nodded at his words. She could at least empathize with that. "And I don't know what I want to do."
"Can I help?" Gabrielle asked. She did not really see how she would be able to help him. But he had been so helpful for her and she would have liked to be able to return the favor.
"I don't think so," Harry sighed. "You should probably just head back to Falmouth. I'll come back later. I kind of want to just be alone for now." Harry closed his eyes when he finished speaking. Gabrielle stared at him for a moment. Her first instinct was to obey. But she did not think that he should be left alone. Not that she had any fear he would do something stupid. She just thought that he should not be alone at this point.
"No," she said. Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. He looked a little shocked.
"What?" he asked.
"I do not think you should be alone today," she admitted. "And I do not really want to be alone anymore. So you are going to get dressed. And we are going to do something," Gabrielle ordered. Harry shook his head at her. But he smiled, although only for a moment.
"I appreciate that, Elle, but it isn't necessary," Harry argued.
"I do not care," she said. "You are going to get dressed now. And we are going to find something to do."
"Like what?" he asked.
"I will worry about that when you are up," Gabrielle said. "So get up."
"You aren't going to go away, are you?" he asked.
"No," she said.
"Okay, fine. But I want to shower first," Harry said. He pushed the blankets off of him and Gabrielle was surprised to see he was just in a pair of boxers. She blushed and looked away immediately. If he noticed, he didn't comment.
"Okay," she responded meekly. "I will be downstairs when you are done. But do not think of getting back into bed. I will have to hex you then."
"Alright, alright," he responded, waving her away. She did not think about leaving until he stepped into the bathroom. After that, she turned and walked out of the room. She descended the stairs slowly. Her only thoughts were of just what she would do to help get the quidditch star's mind off of the news of the day.
Gabrielle wandered down the stairs and wandered through the rooms once more. She spent the time focused on just how she was going to entertain a moody quidditch player, figuring it would not take him too long to shower. Of course, part of her expected that he would wind up back in bed before he ever emerged from his room.
And she did not think that was necessarily a bad thing. She knew she would have coped better by being up and about. But she did not need to think too much about that. If Harry went back to bed then she would simply floo back to Falmouth. There was nothing wrong with that. He was an adult and completely capable of making his own decisions.
After she stepped down to the first floor and just looked around for a few moments. But staring out the windows at London bored her. So she stepped toward the ballroom, purely because it was the last room on the first floor that she had not looked around yet.
Gabrielle walked around the hardwood floors and looked at the lavishly decorated walls. The walls were all covered in an ornate golden plating, regimented designs encompassing the entire room. It reminded her of a palace, in a way. She had brief memories of touring Versailles with her mother and sister years ago. But she shrugged those off and moved toward a record player tucked into the corner.
She suspected it didn't get much use. But she could sense charms on it. Still, given that part of the room appeared to be set up for live music, she suspected it was merely a last resort for whatever parties they had. There were many records on a shelf behind the player. Most of them she recognized as classical staples. There was nothing remotely modern, though.
She plucked one from the shelf at random and put it onto the player. As soon as she affixed the black disk to the player, the magic took over. The needle moved on its own accord and seconds later music started to play quietly. She suspected the volume was controlled magically as well, but she did not need it any louder than it was.
Gabrielle kicked off her shoes and stepped, barefoot, to the center of the ballroom. She closed her eyes and just listened to the music. She waited, unmoving, until the music looped back around. And when it did, she started dancing.
She just moved to her left, keeping her eyes closed, lifting herself up onto the balls of her feet. She lifted one leg and spun herself slowly in a circle, keeping her eyes closed. She switched legs a moment later, lifting her arms above her head as she spun. And then, she just let the music take over. She fluttered around the ballroom, not really focusing on any moves in particular, but just doing whatever felt right within the context of the song.
It lasted for perhaps eight minutes with a couple of tempo changes, before it wound down in a somber way that reminded her of the dying swan. So she let it kill her, perking up and collapsing into a heap as the song ended.
She did not expect clapping to greet her when she finished. She opened her eyes and just stared at the ceiling for a few moments before sitting up and looking toward the doorway.
Harry Potter was leaning against the doorway, staring at her.
"Was that practiced?" he asked as a second song began. She brought herself back up to her feet and shook her head.
"No, that was just whatever I felt like," she said. He stepped into the ballroom and looked around a bit.
"Well I thought it was incredible," Harry said.
"Thank you," she responded. "What exactly is this place?"
"Twelve Grimmauld Place," Harry said.
"I know that, I flooed here," she responded.
"It's the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Harry said. "I'm sure you read about it in Hermione's book."
"Yes," Gabrielle said. "Is this your London home?"
"That's an interesting question," Harry said. "It's a home I own and it is in London. So I suppose yes."
"So it is where you live in the offseason?" Gabrielle asked.
"No," Harry admitted. "I have a flat over in Islington. I usually live there. This is more where I come when I want to be left completely alone."
"And I am hindering that right now," she said.
"Yes," Harry responded. He gazed around the ballroom. She noticed his hair was damp still and that he'd changed into a formal looking button up shirt and jeans.
"Well I am sorry for that," Gabrielle said.
"It's alright," he said.
"So why do you have a ballroom?" Gabrielle asked.
"I have no idea," Harry smiled.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time?" Gabrielle countered. Harry laughed but shook his head.
"No. I, uhm, well, I restore this place in my free time," he said.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"It has changed a lot in the last two-hundred years. They added rooms, took away rooms, changed rooms around. Even when the Order was here, this ballroom was three separate rooms. A meeting room, a living room, and part of the pantry. Most of the furniture seems to be original, too, just transfigured and charmed into different things. I'm going through the magic in the house and trying to get it back to its original form," Harry said.
"The original form of a Muggle town house had a ballroom?" Gabrielle asked. She didn't particularly believe that. But she had to admit that she did not really know how Romantic era Muggles lived.
"I doubt it," Harry said. "I'm restoring it more to its first magical incantation. How the first Blacks lived."
"Why?" Gabrielle asked.
"Because I have time and the concept intrigued me," Harry said. "I'm honestly surprised at how much brighter the house is. But they certainly had a thing for gold leaf."
"What was it like when it was a headquarters?" Gabrielle asked.
"Creepier," Harry said. "Darker. That staircase has house-elf heads lining it."
"That's disgusting," Gabrielle said, feeling her eyes widen.
"It was," Harry said. "And there was a portrait that just yelled obscene things. I cheated to get rid of that one."
"How's that?" Gabrielle asked.
"Well I was going to preserve it. Mostly because everyone that tried to remove it failed. But she wouldn't shut up. So I erected a magical wall in front of it with a sound dampening charm. It worked for a while but eventually the magic from the portrait dispelled the sound charm. So I decided that not all artwork deserved to be saved and I blew it up," Harry explained.
"And no one had tried that before?" she asked.
"They may have," Harry smirked. "But they weren't Harry Potter."
"Well aren't you just special," Gabrielle laughed.
"Yes," he agreed with a teasing smile. "But you were promising to entertain me."
"Am I not an interesting conversationalist?" Gabrielle asked, faking hurt at his words.
"It's not that," Harry responded. "It's just that, well, we could have easily talked from the bed."
"I've a feeling you'd prefer other things in that situation," Gabrielle countered.
"Probably," Harry agreed. Gabrielle just stared at him for a moment. She still was at a loss what to do as a third song started playing. But then it clicked.
"Dance with me," she said, opening his arms to him.
"I, uh, don't dance," Harry said. He hadn't since the Yule Ball all those years ago. If that could even be called dancing.
"Dance with me!" she ordered. He stepped up to her and she took one of his hands before nodding toward her waist. He placed his hand there and stared down at her.
"Now what?" he asked, standing there.
"Dance," she laughed.
"How?" he asked.
"You are going to make me be the boy?" she sighed. But then she started leading him. He stumbled almost immediately but she forced him to keep up with her.
"I guess?" he said, looking down and praying he didn't crush her bare feet.
"You are terrible," she said, scoffing at his ability. "How is it that Harry Potter cannot dance?"
"Never had the need to?" he countered.
"Well now you need to. Lead me," she said, stopping and staring at him. He gulped but started, pulling her one way with the music.
And they danced. They didn't talk. Really, the only noise from the ballroom was when they laughed at silly mistakes as sometimes they tried to go completely separate ways. He found her a surprisingly pliable partner. No matter what he did she seemed to turn it into something graceful. He was convinced that when she spun around him it was more her doing than his. Yet with how the movements flowed together he felt like he was in complete control.
So he too just gave into the music, and enjoyed the moments his hands were on hers. All the while savoring the fact that it was just the two of them in the room, surrounded by nothing but each other and the music as the day and their problems slipped away. And as they danced Harry thought of nothing but her.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I do appreciate it! The best way to contact me for whatever reason is typically through PM on the site.