Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.

Author's notes: Another big thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui. Without him the story wouldn't be what it is today.

Chapter 33, 19/03/18 - again, one chapter only, but 6k+ words

33

Bill had reserved a table for them at the La Poule au Pot. It was a dainty place, with flowered wallpaper and a bar gleaming with lots of brass. They sat on bistro chairs around a round table that was covered with a white tablecloth and had a vase with flowers in the middle.

Daphne looked around. 'It has somehow the feeling of a private dining room at the house of an old-fashioned aunt.'

'Oui, it was founded in the thirties and hasn't changed much since then. It's one of the traditional bistros that still serve traditional French food,' Fleur said.

The waiter served their aperitives, and Bill raised his glass. 'To Daphne and Harry. We wish you all the happiness in the world.'

Harry suppressed a sigh as he replied to the toast. They'd need all good wishes they could get, although thus far they got along better than he'd dared to hope.

He cast a side glance at his bride. She'd surprised him with her new look this afternoon, the shoulder length haircut suited her and she'd also ditched the childlike clothes she'd worn whenever they'd met prior to their wedding. Those clothes had apparently hidden her figure to a point where he hadn't realised she had curves.

His jaw almost had hit the floor when she came out of the bathroom, dressed up to meet Bill and Fleur. It had taken all his willpower not to gape, and he'd caught himself that he checked out her long, shapely legs when he walked behind her to the elevator and briefly found himself trying to picture her in the tiny underwear she had laid out, a line of thought he severed when he felt heat begin to rise in his face. Yep, in the looks department of his wife he was one lucky wizard, however, looks weren't everything…

'What are your plans for your stay in Paris?' Fleur's voice interrupted his musings. He exchanged a look with Daphne.

She shrugged her shoulders. 'To be honest, we haven't talked about that yet.'

'Yeah, I haven't thought about that, either. What do you suggest, Fleur? After all, you lived here.'

Fleur gave him a blinding smile. 'I'd hoped you'd ask that.' She launched into a detailed enumeration of the many things a young couple in love could do in Paris, that began with a visit to Montmartre and ended with an intimate dinner at the Jules Verne, the restaurant on top of the Eiffel Tower. Her Parisian must do lecture lasted well until after the waiter had served them the first course.

Harry's throat tightened while he listened to Fleur. He lowered his head and swallowed hard, while his fingers clutched around the cutlery in his hands. Merlin, he would've loved to do all these things with Ginny, however, he couldn't see himself doing any of it with Daphne, not for the life of him.

Bill seemed to sense his uneasiness. He put his hand on his wife's. 'Maybe it's too soon for them to do anything of that, love.'

Fleur's face fell.

Daphne came to her rescue. She put down her cutlery and wiped her mouth with her napkin. 'Besides that, I'm not sure if it's such a good idea for us to stay in Paris most of the time anyway, what do you think, Harry?' She looked at him, picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

'Why's that?' Bill asked with raised eyebrows.

'Well, Cyrus sent me the newspaper clippings about our wedding this afternoon. I guess you've read them, so you know that Skeeter wasn't very nice in her dealings with Daphne. Since it's known that we're in Paris, we think it's very likely that she and at least a couple more reporters are here, looking for us. We talked about that on our way to the restaurant and agreed that we don't want to deal with them until we're more… uh, comfortable with each other,' Harry said.

Daphne nodded to his explanation.

Bill and Fleur exchanged a look. 'That makes sense,' Bill said.

A mischievous gleam appeared in Fleur's eyes. 'You'll have to get the Apparition Point Registry for France. There are so many fabulous places where you can go. For instance, there's Fecamp in Normandy...' She launched into another detailed exposition on the wonders of France.

The other three looked at each other and broke out into laughter.

The next morning, however, Harry sat in the lush grass on top of a cliff and looked down on the amazing shapes nature had carved out of the white high coast that dropped into the sea almost vertically. One rock jutted out of the water like a needle, and the one next to it looked like an elephant that dipped its trunk into the water. A warm, salty smelling summer breeze played with his hair, and above all were the constant cries of the seagulls.

'It's beautiful here, isn't it?' a soft voice beside him said. He turned his head and looked at the young woman next to him. His wife - would he ever get used to calling her that? Even more important, would he ever get used to living with her?

He suppressed a sigh and forced a smile on his face. 'Yeah, it is. Are you ready to continue our walk?'

A stroll on top of the cliffs of Étretat had been one of the many things Fleur had suggested to them during dinner. He and Daphne had discussed her suggestions as they ambled back to their hotel rather late at night, and agreed to try out at least a few of the places she had recommended. He'd called Kreacher that morning while Daphne was still in the bathroom, and asked him to get an Apparition Point Registry for France.

Daphne returned his smile and scrambled to her feet. 'Yeah, I'd love to see more of this amazing coast.'

Harry followed suit. He cast another look at her. She'd changed in the few days since their marriage.

Most noticeable and obvious was the change in her appearance. He hadn't been overly impressed with her when he saw her for the first time on the day they signed their wedding agreement. She'd been pretty, yes, but also rather pale and insignificant, a girl that always melted into the background and was overlooked. The clothes she'd worn had added to that impression.

That wasn't true anymore. While nothing about her screamed for attention, she couldn't be overlooked, either. Her new haircut and the subtle makeup she wore emphasised the fine-boned, classical structure of her face. She was a beauty, however, not as stunning as Ginny; Daphne's beauty was elegant and understated, and would probably last beyond the time when Ginny's looks began to wither.

Now, where had that thought come from?

'I'd give anything to have my broom right now and take a fly among these cliffs.' She pointed down to the bizarre formations below them.

'You like flying?'

She laughed and pushed a strand of her hair the wind had blown into her face behind her ear. 'Yeah, what's so amazing about that? All wizards and witches fly.'

He shook his head. 'No, that isn't strictly true. Hermione hates flying, and I don't think I've seen Neville on a broom ever since flying instruction in our first year. Not to mention I've never seen you flying at Hogwarts, either, beyond that class.'

'Well, that's because there's not much opportunity for flying at Hogwarts outside of the Quidditch teams, and Slytherin unfortunately has or had a no-girls-policy for their team,' Daphne said and grimaced.

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. 'You play Quidditch?' He cast a surreptitious look at her soft and delicate body that was so unlike Ginny's muscular, athletic figure. She'd never have the strength to hold on to a broom for a long, fast paced match.

'Merlin, no!' She laughed and shook her head and nudged his shoulder with her own. 'I love the feeling of freedom while I'm in the air, but the thought of a Bludger slamming into my face never appealed to me, though I love to watch a good game. I always enjoyed your games when we were at Hogwarts, never a dull moment, when you were on the pitch.'

A slow smile spread over his face. At last he'd discovered something they had in common. Should he suggest to find out where to rent brooms and have a flight along the coast? Why not?

Daphne put a hand on his arm and pointed with her free hand down to the base of the elephant-shaped rock in front of them. 'Look, Harry.' A small, open boat cruised through the portal framed by the legs and the trunk of the elephant. 'It seems there are tours along the coast available from Étretat. Maybe we can take one when we're back in the village?'

He looked down on her hand on his bare arm. His skin tingled where she touched him, however, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

'Yeah, looks like fun.' He gave her a small smile, and they continued their walk.

Daphne's behaviour towards him was different to the few times they'd met, chaperoned by her mother, previous to their wedding. She'd kept her distance then, as if she'd been afraid of him. That had also changed. She'd opened up, and she'd often search physical contact with him, might it be that she took his hand or put her hand on his arm.

Strangely enough, he didn't mind. It was… nice. It felt familiar, as if she'd done it many times before. What had happened between them while he'd been under that potion? His memories were hazy, he'd been unconscious most of the time, however, he remembered a loving voice and a tender hand that had kept him from falling into the black abyss that threatened to swallow him. Had that been her? After all, she'd acted as his anchor, he really needed to look into what that meant. Was it more than just being there to watch over and care for him? If yes, he owed his life to her, not only because she agreed to marry him.

He cast her another side glance. She looked down to the ground, as if contemplating the tips of her white sneakers.

'Uh… Daphne?'

She raised her head and smiled at him. 'Yes, Harry?'

'You mentioned yesterday that we'll have to play the loving couple when we're out in public. What exactly did you mean by that?'

'Well, we can't hide in the Muggle world or behind the wards of The Rectory forever, can we? You'll need to buy new robes, so we have to go to Diagon Alley as soon as we're back, and we'll both attend the magical part of Canterbury University in September. People will see us together, and they'll gossip about us. To prevent the ugly talk, we just have to act like a young couple in love when we're out in the magical world.' A faint blush had crept into her cheeks, and she avoided his eyes.

He swallowed, and his face became hot. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant, could she? He had to be sure. 'Do you mean… we have to be affectionate with each other?'

She didn't answer to that, only nodded, and the blush on her face intensified.

Bugger. This couldn't be true. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt that within the blink of an eye seemed to have become tighter and threatened to choke him. Of course, he knew he would've to become physical with the girl at some point to fulfill the demands of their wedding agreement. Even though he'd had an abysmal upbringing and had next to no experience except some snogging, he'd caught on to the fact that babies didn't grow in cabbage patches.

Well, they had to start somewhere. He swallowed and held his hand out to her. 'Alright; let's get some practise, then.'

She gasped and gave him an incredulous look, but took his hand.

Their fingers interlaced; pleasant tingles spread from his hand through his arm across his whole body. He most likely looked like a tomato in the face right now, and he didn't dare look at her as they continued their walk along the coastline.

When lunchtime drew closer, they decided to return to Étretat. They both were parched and hungry from their walk.

'I've learned my lesson: if I want to have a happy life, keep Daphne fed and watered,' Harry said and winked at her. By now it had become the most natural thing to hold her hand.

She gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. 'That sounds like I'm a horse.'

'Oops!'

They continued their banter as they returned to the village and found an empty table at a crêperie opposite of the old market hall. Over galettes filled with cheese, ham and egg*, a glass of cidre, and under the cover of the Muffliato Charm they talked and got to know each other better, in what, Harry was sure by necessity, was going to be the first of many such conversations.

She told him about her childhood in a Pureblood family that was also living with one foot in the Muggle world. It was apparent by every word and every gesture how much she loved her family, and especially her little sister. Tears glistened in her eyes when she told him of the Blood Curse that had manifested in Astoria when she was still a toddler.

'There's no cure against it. Astoria is strong and fights against her illness, but the Healer at St Mungo's told Mother and Father that she won't live to see her thirtieth birthday. With all the strain of the last year that forced her into the wheelchair I'm afraid it won't be even that long.'

A single tear ran down her cheek.

Before he knew what he was doing, he bent forward and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

Her smile was rather watery and she gave his hand a slight nuzzle with her face before he had the chance to draw it away.

A slight electric jolt went through his body, but she averted her face a split second later. Strange, where did that sense of loss come from? At least she hadn't withdrawn her hand that still was holding his other hand, their fingers entwined.

She'd grown up with loving, yet stern and demanding parents. She told him about the days out she had enjoyed with her father when she was a little girl, from the tree house he built for her in the park of The Rectory to the days he took her with him to the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, where she followed him like a small pup, eager to learn about her future duties and excited that she'd work side by side with him one day.

'I've always been Father's girl, while Tori was Mother's girl,' she said. 'I suppose, that's why it's so hard that he -.' She broke off and bit her lips.

Harry startled, and his breath caught. All of a sudden he knew why she had agreed to marry him. 'He blackmailed you into our marriage like he blackmailed me, didn't he?'

She nodded hesitantly. Her face contorted, and she lowered her head until her features were hidden by her hair. She took a few, deep breaths. When she looked up again, her eyes were dry, and her face was calm. How had she managed that? Her self control was amazing.

'Yes, he did. I should hate him for what he did to me - to us - but I can't. He's my father, and I still love him. And as much as I disagree with his means, I know he did what he believed was best for the family and us.'

Harry made a face at that. 'It still remains to be seen if it was for our best. However, I don't blame you that you don't hate him. He's your father, after all. And while he's not my favourite person right now and I doubt that will change, I promise I'll try not to fight with him, if only for your sake. I don't want you to get caught in a fight between me and your father.'

She put a hand on his arm. 'Thank you, Harry, that's very considerate of you.'

They finished their meal in a contemplative silence.

Harry took a last bite, put down his cutlery and wiped his mouth. He took a sip of the sweet, refreshing cidre, put the glass back on the tableand looked at his wife. There was something about the plans Cyrus had made for them he didn't understand yet. 'Say, Daphne, your father said we both have to start at Canterbury Magical University in September. I don't know about you, but I haven't taken my N.E.W.T.s, so how's that possible?'

'I didn't take my N.E.W.T.s, either,' she said. 'However, for the course in Magical Economics we're both taking we don't need them; the O.W.L.s will suffice. The course is based on the Muggle curriculum, with only little magic, you know. If we like to, we can finish our N.E.W.T.s while working on our university degree. I plan on doing so, I haven't ruled out yet the possibility of taking a Potion Mastery one day.'

He grinned at her. 'Wow, I'm impressed. I was always glad when I made it through potions without blowing up my cauldron.'

'Yeah, Snape had it for you, didn't he. Although I noticed you did much better under Slughorn.' She put down her cutlery and drained her glass. 'What do you think, do we have room for dessert?'

Harry laughed, gave a small inclination of his head and signalled the waiter. 'As madame wishes.'

The rest on their honeymoon went by in similar fashion. When the week was over and their Portkey dropped them in the living room of The Coach House, they were at least able to act naturally around each other when they were in public. They'd become friends, though they hadn't made any real progress in their physical relationship apart from the holding of hands, the occasional hug and other gentle touches like shoulder bumps.

Harry looked around in the spacious room. He'd had taken no interest whatsoever in what his future life with Daphne would look like, prior to the wedding, and after she'd managed to persuade her father to let them live in the old coach house next to the main house of The Rectory, hehad left it to her to get the house ready for them. He had to give it to her: she had good taste in decor.

Huge, comfortable upholstered blue chairs and sofas were grouped around a fireplace that was big enough to stand in. Their Floo connection, he assumed. A table with six chairs around it, but with room for eight, stood at the opposite side of the room, marking the dining area. Three windows and a glass door that opened to a terrace and the kitchen garden let in a lot of light, and dark beams under the low ceiling gave the room a rustic feel.

'Come on, I'll show you around,' Daphne said and linked arms with him. She led him out of the room into a small hallway. Ahead of them, a steep staircase led to the first floor. Daphne indicated with her hand to a door next to the staircase. 'That's the loo. The door to the left leads to the kitchen.'

Harry opened the door and peeked inside. The white and yellow kitchen had all the essentials, and there was even room for a tiny breakfast corner for two. 'Who's going to cook our meals and do the cleaning?' he asked and closed the door.

Daphne made a face at his question. 'Father insisted that it's too much work for Matty and her daughter Mipsy to clean and cook for us on top of their duties in the main house, so we're on our own, I'm afraid. Unfortunately, how to cook and keep a house clean is not part of the "accomplishments" a Pureblood girl needs to have as part of her repertoire, so I'm pretty clueless when it comes to housekeeping charms. If you ask me, Father did that so we're still forced to take our meals at the main house and he can keep an eye on us.'

Her voice sounded bitter. This was not the first time since their wedding she'd made a rancorous comment about Cyrus Greengrass, and it showed she still hadn't forgiven her father that he'd blackmailed her into this marriage.

'Then you'll be happy to know that I've inherited a house elf from my godfather. Poor Kreacher has had to stay at Hogwarts for the time being, since the house I inherited from my godfather has been vandalised by Death Eaters during the war. I haven't had the time and the money to restore it to its former glory.'

'So, it was your house elf who delivered the flowers to me on our wedding day?' Daphne asked and turned red. 'Thank you, by the way. They were very pretty. I hadn't counted on you sending me flowers.'

His face grew warm. 'You're welcome. But if we are being honest, Bill and Arthur reminded me that I should send you flowers.' He cast her a side glance. Was she offended?

He let out a breath when she broke out into laughter.

'I should've known that!' She took him by the hand and pulled him up the staircase with her. On the first floor landing she pointed to a door to their right. 'I guess you've already seen the bedroom and ensuite.' A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but she didn't give him the time to think about it, and opened a door ahead of them.

Two desks facing each other and a lot of shelves marked this room as a joined study.

Harry whistled. 'Cyrus really meant it when he said we would start our studies in September, didn't he?'

'Oh yes, that he did,' Daphne said. 'And you'd better get rid of your atrocious learning habits, by the way. Believe me, you don't want to be called into Father's study and explain why your grades aren't up to what he expects from his potential successor.'

His irritation levels rose, why didn't that surprise him? Of course Cyrus would take the opportunity to exercise his power over him. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. 'Exactly what would you know about my study habits?'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'The whole school knew about them, Harry. It was no secret that you and Weasley preferred to play chess or fool around instead of studying, and that both of you wouldn't have been in the upper half of the class if Granger hadn't made sure you at least did your homework on time.'

Once again his face became hot. 'I'm not that bad. Actually, I revised hard for my O.W.L.s, and I did a lot of extra work for Defense in our fifth year.'

'Yeah, and that was because it was your favourite class,' she said. 'However, you didn't decide to study Magical Economics with your own free will, so I expect it'll be hard for you to keep on task. I'll try to help you with that, but I'll also give you fair warning: I'm not going to run interference between you and Father, so you'd better do your best right from the start.' She poked him in the chest with a finger. 'Or I'll kick your arse before Father gets to have a go at it.'

What the…! He gaped at the petite girl in front of him. She was all soft and delicate femininity, but something in her expression warned him not to cross her, or she'd subject him to far worse things than anything Cyrus would do to him.

Not that he planned on neglecting his studies. He'd had a lot of time to think about his new situation in the previous weeks, and come to the conclusion that he'd never willingly endanger his grandfather's legacy. He knew so little about his family, and had even less that reminded him of them, so working to become Cyrus' successor and thus also following in his grandfather's footsteps gave him a connection to his family that he'd never had before and it was one that he cherished.

If only he'd known about that sooner, he would've worked harder during his time at Hogwarts and also would've tried to pick up the things Daphne had been educated in outside of the Hogwarts curriculum. He doubted he ever would've thought of becoming an Auror, had he known there was a family business waiting for him. However, Cyrus didn't need to know that.

'Yes, ma'am,' he said, and grinned at her.

Her face softened. 'Good for you.' She closed the door to the study and took his hand. 'That's the end of the tour. I told you, the house is tiny.'

'What, no additional half a dozen bedrooms for our future children?' he asked with a snort as they walked back downstairs. 'I thought your father expects us to continue the family line asap.'

Daphne blushed. 'I guess we'll have either to move into the main house then, or persuade Father to give us access to your grandparent's house. However, since we both agreed that we don't want to have children before we finish our studies, the house is big enough for the time being.'

'Speaking of your father, will your parents expect us to come over today?'

She shook her head. 'Mother, Father and Tori are still at our holiday villa in France. They won't be back for another two weeks.'

Harry raised his eyes heavenwards. Thank Merlin, prayers are sometimes answered, he wouldn't have to deal with his in-laws yet. How was he supposed to interact with Cyrus on a daily basis after what that man had done to him and Daphne? He didn't love her, but as his wife she was now his responsibility, and he'd be damned if he allowed Cyrus to use her as his chess piece any longer.

Even more important: he'd have additional two weeks to get used to living with Daphne. He'd spared no thought before their wedding on what daily life with a girl would entail. He'd had some vague dreams about a life with Ginny, however, after two weeks of marriage he already knew they failed the reality check. Who'd have thought that girls could be that… that omnipresent?

It had started with her scent. He was used to Ginny's flowery scent, however, it hadn't dominated The Burrow. Daphne's scent was different, light, yet spicy with a lemony note. It was the first thing he smelled on the pillows when he woke up in the morning, it hung in the air of the bathroom when he went to get ready for the day, and it eventually permeated the wardrobe they shared and where they had put their new clothes for the time of their stay in Paris. Not to mention that he got a whiff of it every time she moved close to him. It wasn't unpleasant, by no means, however, it wasn't the scent he'd grown to love.

Then there were her things. It seemed they had a life of their own, and eventually spread all over their hotel room and intermingled with his belongings. There was her cardigan at the foot of his side of the bed where she'd placed it when they returned to their room after a day out. There were at least three pairs of shoes - why did women need so many shoes, by the way? - lying on the floor of their hotel room, in close proximity to his trainers. There were the fashion magazines she'd bought to read and dropped on his bedside table. Well, of course he'd had a peek inside - after all, he was supposed to find out how the mind of his new wife ticked, wasn't he? And the crossword puzzle had been interesting.

He wouldn't even mention her brushes next to his shaving kit, or her shampoo standing next to his soap in the shower - no, the most nerve-racking thing had to be, well, the things girls wore under their clothes and at night. Oh, he'd got a lot of experience with that stuff during his time on the run, when he'd been alone with Hermione. They'd taken turns with the household chores, and he'd done Hermione's unmentionables and her night things more than once when he had to do the washing.

However, the sensible, plain cotton bras and slips and flannel pyjamas Hermione wore couldn't be compared to the flimsy pieces of silk and laceDaphne preferred, he never would have suspected this, given her outerwear prior to their marriage, and it kept him on his toes. They seemed to be everywhere: she had the annoying, yet exciting habit to leave her lacy bras at the door handle of the bathroom after she'd changed her clothes for the night. He probably had looked as if he had a tomato for a head each morning when he left the bathroom during their honeymoon, and he'd had a hard time not to imagine her in these tiny pieces of clothing every time he looked at her.

And would he ever get used to seeing her in the short nothings she called nightgowns and that barely covered anything? Merlin, had she an idea what she did to him each morning when she got up, stretched, and the shift rode up on her long legs several inches?

No, it wouldn't be a sacrifice at all when they had to become physical, however, how he was supposed to keep calm around her until she'd gotten used to their awkward situation was beyond him.

The next morning Harry was the first down in the kitchen. They'd spent the previous evening getting their things sorted, and went out for an early dinner to Muggle London, since the larder and the fridge of their new home were still empty, and had bought what they'd need for breakfast at a Tesco on Dean Street on their way back home. They had both been knackered when they returned home and gone to bed early, without talking to Kreacher about his new duties.

He still wasn't in the mood to deal with his house elf, though the poor old thing would be beyond happy when he called him. No matter what Hermione said, house elves needed their masters to be content and happy.

Harry put the kettle on the stove, thank Merlin he'd learned how to operate a magical stove during his time on the run. He opened the cupboard that looked on the outside like a Muggle refrigerator, but was nothing more than a cupboard with permanent cooling charms placed on it, and took out the bacon and eggs.

He whistled a little tune, put the pan on the stove and cracked the first egg open.

Tea, bacon, and eggs had just finished, and the toaster - yet another Muggle looking device that operated on magic - popped out the last slice of toast, when the kitchen door opened and Daphne walked into the room. At the sight of the almost finished meal and the set table her eyes went huge.

'I had no idea you could cook,' she said and sat down.

Harry slid a fried egg on her plate and one on his own, put the pan back on the stove and sat down opposite of her. 'I won't claim that I'm a master cook, however, I know how to prepare breakfast and a few other dishes.'

'Had I known you know your way in a kitchen, I wouldn't have been that standoffish the day you proposed. A man who can cook is definitely a good bargain.' Daphne smirked at him and took a bite of her eggs and bacon. 'Mmmmh, that's good.'

He snorted. 'You're almost as bad as Ron when it comes to food.'

She put down her fork and gave him a mildly offended look. 'I prefer to think that I have better table manners.'

'Oh, you have, but that's not difficult,' Harry said and hid his broad grin behind his teacup. It was so easy to get a rise out of her, not to mention she looked cute when she pouted and mock-glared at him, just like right now. He'd come to enjoy the easy banter they'd established between them.

A peck on the window pane prevented her from the retort that was without any doubt on the tip of her tongue. He got up and let the post owl in. It carried a copy of The Daily Prophet, and he fished in the pocket of his jeans for some loose coins to drop the needed five Knuts in the small pouch attached to the owl's leg. The owl hooted and flew off. Harry closed the window, picked up the newspaper and returned to the breakfast table.

'I had no idea you subscribed to the Prophet,' he said, and gave the newspaper to Daphne.

She put down her teacup and took the paper from him. 'It's always good to know what venom Skeeter is spreading,' she said, unfolded the paper and handed him back the sports section.

He took it with a small chuckle. 'Too right.' However, the laughter got stuck in his throat when he unfolded the sports section and his eyes fell on the headline.

US CLUB STRIKES DEAL WITH BRITISH UP-AND-COMING CHASER TALENT

Below that was a huge photograph of a smiling Ginny beside the manager and owner of the Taos Tornados as she signed the contract.

His fingers became numb, and he grabbed the newspaper even harder so it wouldn't fall to the ground and alert Daphne. He read the article, and had to read it for a second time, because his brain refused to process the words his eyes saw.

At last, the meaning of the words sunk in. Ginny was moving to the USA - no, she already was there. So, that's what he'd done to her. He'd broken her heart for a second time, and this time her hurt was so bad she'd fled the country. There was no way Ginny would've ever left her family, if he hadn't shattered her heart for a second time.

His breakfast turned into a cold hard stone in his stomach, and he had to suppress a groan. Merlin, how could he ever look the Weasleys into the eyes again? Ginny was the apple of their eyes, and he had driven her away from her family.

The newspaper slipped out of his nerveless fingers and slid to the floor.

'Harry?' Daphne looked at him from behind her part of the newspaper. Something on his face must have given him away, for her face fell. She turned her head to where the sports section had fallen. The headline and Ginny's photograph were impossible to miss.

Daphne's face turned ashen.

Harry's chest tightened. Merlin, he was such a cad. He'd hurt Ginny beyond belief, and now he'd also hurt Daphne. She'd gone out of her way to help him through their awkward situation. Even worse, he in all likelihood owed his life to her, not only because she agreed to marry him, but also because she kept him anchored to this life while he was under the treatment. While he didn't think he could love her, he at least owed it to her to treat her decently and never let her realise that he still wasn't over Ginny. Well, he'd well and truly screwed that pooch, hadn't he?

The tightness in his chest intensified. He took a laboured breath. This was too much, he had to get out of here…

'Harry?' Daphne's voice sounded alarmed.

He looked at her. 'I'm sorry, Daphne, I … I can't -'

He couldn't finish the sentence. With a last pleading look at his wife he Apparated away.

t.b.c.

*Galettes are crêpes made of buckwheat flour and a speciality from Brittany. Filled with ham, cheese and egg they are a common lunch dish, and not a breakfast dish, as many of you might think. You'll find crêperies that serve galettes everywhere in France, not only in Brittany. I highly recommend them, they are a yummy alternative to lunch at a bistro, especially if you're travelling on a small budget.