Chapter 4

April 24th, 1999

She wakes up with the smell of bacon and coffee, and an empty bed. She puts on one of Penny's jerseys, pink with a huge white 'A' in front, ties her hair in a ponytail and pads out. Penny, curse her blonde yummy looks, is wearing one of Harry's jerseys and whistling as she cooks. She looks very well-shagged.

"Where is Harry?"

Penny shrugs. "He wasn't here when I woke up." She keeps looking at Gemma with a puzzled face.

"What?"

"You set me up, didn't you? And you hurt him. Pretty bad too."

Gemma's presses her lips together in a thin line. "You can't complain."

"I'm not complaining. I got what I wanted. It's just that it was supposed to be just in fun, wasn't it? Isn't that what you said?"

"It was."

"Maybe for us. For your boyfriend, however..."

Gemma raises her voice. "He is taking things too seriously, damn it!"

Penny laughs. "So instead of talking it over with him, you decided to show him. Using me. How Slytherin of you."

"You get what you wanted, He gets a nice shag, I send my message... everybody wins."

"Tidy." Penny's irony cuts nicely, and Gemma feels it.

"Why are you taking his side?"

"I'm not taking anybody's side. It's just a little unfair, I think. He's one of the good ones."

Gemma smirks. "In more ways than one."

Penny sighs. "You taught him well, I'll grant you that."

Penny plates their breakfasts and they sit at the counter to eat. Both are lost in thought. Gemma is about to leave when Penny starts talking again. "I'm curious... about this message of yours. Who was it really addressed to?"

"What do you mean?" Gemma knows perfectly well what she means.

"Were you getting cold feet, sweetie?" A poisonously sweet tone. Gemma doesn't reply. "Cold sweats? You were just plain frightened?"

"You're a bitch, do you know that?"

"Of course, but I'm your bitch, Babe. Answer the question."

"Yes! Fuck you!"

"Oh, he did. Three times."

Gemma screams. "I hate you!"

Penny talks calmly, right over Gemma's scream. "He's eighteen, gorgeous, sweet, and the most desirable wizard in the world. Any witch that walks near him needs a change of knickers. And who are you? A wannabe bureaucrat with a pretty ass and a little cleverness? No money, no clout..."

She screams. "Stop!"

"I mean, who wouldn't be terrified..."

"Stop!" The tears come. Penny walks around the counter and hugs Gemma. She cries for a little. Then she stops. Penny conjures a handkerchief and wipes her face. Gemma whispers "I might have fucked up."

Penny snickers. "You might?"

"I fucked up, all right?"

"Yes you did. What are you going to do about it?"

She sniffles. "Try to fix it? Maybe grovel?"

"Grovel sounds good."

"How bad is it?" She sounds pleading.

"Bad. You've one thing going for you."

"What?"

"That boy is head-over-heels."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

It's late morning, and I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling very sorry for myself when Kreacher pops up. "Master."

"What is it?"

"There is a floo call for you."

"Who is it?"

"Kreacher does not know this person."

I frown. It could be Gemma, but Kreacher knows her. In fact, Kreacher knows everyone I know. Intrigued, I jump out of bed. "I'll be down in a second."

I couldn't be more surprised when I see who it is. "Elle?"

"Can I come?"

"Of course." She pops out of the floo with a dancer's grace, and a worried countenance. They hug. "Elle. What the..."

"Are you ok?" I blink, confused. She's wearing a warm-looking long sleeve pale pink dress, white tights, ballet shoes and pigtails. She still looks like a little girl, but her look of concern is as adult as can be.

"Why wouldn't I be? What are you doing here?"

"I had a dream..."

"A dream? What kind of dream?"

She screams at me, tears forming in her blue eyes. "The kind of dream where you're hurting, dumbarse! Are you sure you're ok? I was so worried! And will you stop answering my questions with questions? It's bloody annoying!"

I can't help myself. I laugh. That does not please her. She growls, and a faint dusting of feathers appears on her neck. I raise my hands in appeasement. "Calm down, Elle. I'll answer all your questions."

She glares at me for a few more seconds, then seems to do a breathing exercise, and the feathers disappear. "Fine." She clasps her hands behind my neck and jumps. It's all I can do to grab her in a bridal carry. She weighs little, but more than expected. It feels good to have her in my arms.

"Your room."

"And what do you want in my room, succubus?"

"Answers. Cuddles."

"As you wish." I walk up to my room, with my precious cargo. I place her on top of my unmade bed and lie back down. She climbs on top of me, elbows planted on my chest, holding her head up, facing me, our eyes about a foot apart. "I had a big disappointment last night."

"A disappointment." She smirks. "Does that mean 'broken heart' in British?"

I smile. "I guess."

"What exactly did the putain do?"

"We were having a double date. Everything was fine, but, at the end, she decided to do a switch without telling to me. Her friend Penny came to me, and she went with Penny's date."

"Hm. So?"

"I didn't like my girlfriend shagging someone else."

"That's understandable, I guess. Did you shag this Penny?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I struggle to find a way to explain.

"I was a little drunk, caught by surprise and Penny is attractive and nice. I thought she would be hurt if I made a fuss."

"Did you have fun?"

"Not really. I was too bothered by what was happening in the other bedroom."

"But you still shagged Penny."

"Yeah."

"How many times?"

"What difference does that make, little succubus?"

"None. I'm just curious."

That tears it. "I think I'm done answering questions."

"In my dream you were really in pain, Magus. But it seems to me you were actually enjoying yourself."

"I was in pain, all right? I felt betrayed, cheated." Now I'm sounding a little whiny, even to myself.

"I know. What happened after your shagged Penny an unspecified number of times?"

"She fell asleep. I came here."

"Did you talk to your girlfriend?"

"No. I didn't think I could even look at her."

"Do you know for a fact that she shagged this other boy?"

"Yeah. I actually heard it." "Yes Ollie, faster..." Fuck.

"Hm." She jumps off the bed. "I'm leaving."

"Hey! Why?"

"I'm going to see Fleur. You are going back to your girlfriend and ask her why she did this."

I shake my head. "I don't want to do that."

She shrugs. "I don't care."

"I'm just going to do what you tell me because..."

"Because I say so." She sighs. "You're in love with this Gemma, arsewipe."

"And how would you know that?"

She puts her nose in the air. "I'm French."

I guffaw. "So you are."

She crosses her arms and pouts. "That Weasley creature did a lot worse to you. I don't think it hurt as much, and you just forgave her."

She is right about one thing. I didn't get this upset with Ginny. Hurt, yes, but not upset. Molly, that's another story. But not Ginny. I shrug. "She got punished enough."

"Is punishment the issue? I'm sure your Gemma could use a good spanking, hm? Maybe with a paddle..."

"Elle..."

"I wouldn't mind some paddling myself. You see, I have been having these naughty little thoughts..." She lifts her dress and wiggles her panty-clad, tight-covered little girl's bottom at me.

Now, that's truly crossing a line. "Elle!"

She walks away, her tinkly laugh mocking me. "You know where I'll be, Magus. We still need to talk."

"Fine!" I shout at her. Truth be told, I'm already feeling loads better.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

I tumble out of the floo, and end up flat on my back, staring up at Fleur's baby bump under the loose shirt. "Well, well... 'ow graceful."

"Up yours, pretty bird." I grin at her. "Did that thing grow, or what?" I get up, scattering a cloud of soot. Fleur sneezes and pulls out her wand, casting a rough cleaning charm.

"Hey! More respect, young man. That's my wife and daughter you're dissing!" Bill is lying on the living room couch, with a small black book in his hands.

"Up yours too, Wolfie."

He gives Fleur a long-suffering look. "Do we have to put up with this?"

"I believe we must, William. At least for my sister's sake." She turns to me, her eyes bright. "Zere is tea and pain au chocolat on the counter."

There are few sacred things in this world, and Fleur's pain au chocolat ranks high among them. I rush to the counter and grab one of the still warm pastries, gobbling it whole.

Fleur smiles and mumbles. "British barbarian."

"With pride, Mrs. Weasley. Where's Elle?"

"Upstairs. She's decorating ze nursery." Gabrielle is a deft hand at magical painting.

I help Fleur lower herself into one of the kitchen's chairs. "Can I go check?"

"I zink she would prefer if we wait for 'er to finish." She sips her tea and grimaces. "So, tell me. What 'appened?"

"Did Gabrielle tell you?"

"Oui. She also told us you would be talking to ze woman. So?"

I shrug "We talked." Fleur keeps staring at me. Bill seems oblivious, focused on his book. "It was not malice or thoughtlessness. She was being insecure and tried to be too clever for her own good. At the end, it's just stupid."

...the tears keep coming down her face. "I'm really sorry, Harry..."

"It's ok, Gem. I'm not mad. And I'm sorry too." I still can't look her in the eyes.

"So, are we ok?" She grabs my hands, but I slip away, taking a step back.

I look at my feet for a long time, her soft crying in the background. "I need a little time."

"What does this mean? Are we done?"

"Just a little time Gem. I'll write."

Fleur smirks. "I see."

"She shagged another guy, Fleur."

"You're too self-righteous for your own good, 'arry."

"Don't give me that, Fleur. I'm sure if Bill..."

"Shh." She puts a finger on my lips. "One shouldn't let silly things get in ze way of love."

I shake my head. "What about trust?"

"Zat's ze problem, isn't eet?" She sighs. "You're young."

I glance at Bill, who seems to be still engrossed in his book. "I've been betrayed, Fleur."

"I know." She also glances at Bill and smiles. "Still, one should try to 'old onto good zings, even when eet's 'ard."

I shake my head. "I'll keep that in mind." I breath in and out slowly. "About Gabrielle..."

"What about 'er?"

"What is she doing here?"

"She said she dreamed you were 'urting and zat she needed to see you."

"Yes, but..."

"Papa 'ad a floo connection made between 'ere and la Maison a while back." An illegal connection too. "You know Beuxbattons lets fourth years go 'ome on ze weekend. She just went 'ome and zen flooed 'ere."

"I'm really glad she did, actually." She keeps looking at me, waiting. "I finally figured it out today. I think we may have a little empathic connection."

She nods. "I zink so too."

"Is this normal?"

"Non. But eet's not un'eard of. "

"Is it a bad thing?"

"Does eet feel bad?"

"No. It actually feels wonderful. Gabrielle is... Merlin! I have no words. I fear she gets the bad end of the bargain, though. She gives me air and sunlight and gets darkness in return."

Fleur laughs. "'arry..." I frown. There's nothing funny about this. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh. Eet's just zat... a young veela's life is very 'ard, outside ze enclaves. People are eizzer scary, or condescending, you've got no friends. I see you and Gabby and I'm full of envy. She is not really alone like I was at 'er age. Besides, zis story zat she gets darkness from you? Bah! Zis is pure 'orseshit! You may be a leetle broken by your life's circumstances, but you are kind, strong, fierce and definitely of ze light."

I stand there, not knowing how to respond. Finally my mind's gears engage again. "I'm more than a little broken, Fleur."

She dismisses me with a wave. "Trust Lady Magic, 'arry."

"Trust. It always comes down to trust, doesn't it?"

A charming Gallic shrug. "Oui."

May 7th, 1999

The building is a detached two-story, grayish-red brick. We are crouching outside, under one of the few windows, disillusioned and silenced. Suzy points to the left, indicating there's two targets around the corner. There are also two upstairs, according to the revelio spell. The two upstairs appear to be casing the stairs, waiting to ambush whoever tries to go up. I point to Suzy and to the left, then to myself and up. Then three fingers. Two...one...

Suzy slides forward, keeping close to the ground. She casts a silent cutting curse, catching one of the targets by surprise and getting stopped by the other's shield. Even as she moves, I get up and cast a bombarda maxima at the ceiling, under the general place where the two targets upstairs are located. As my spell hits, I'm jumping the window and running up the stairs. Suzy's left over opponent, distracted by the explosion I caused, takes his eyes off my partner long enough for a well-cast bone breaker to the legs. Bone breakers love Bones, and vice-versa. He is still screaming when I reach the second floor. Both subjects from the top floor are passed out. One of them has his neck at an odd angle whereas the other is covered in blood. I cast a stunner at each. I'm about to head downstairs when the whole building shakes violently and comes crashing down.

I wake up on the a bed, next to Susan. "Fuck!"

She giggles a bit. "Boys and explosions."

"Sorry. I didn't think the building..." She giggles some more. "All right, smart lady, what would you have done?"

"Exactly what you did. Except that my bombarda might not have brought the building down."

I let the silence stretch a bit before answering. "Point." I close my eyes for a second. "Good job there."

"Thanks. I'd say the same, but..." she lets the sentence trail away.

"Fine! I think we have time for another round." Susan and I have spent at least three afternoons a week at the scenario simulator for months now. With that, physical and magical conditioning and a pinch of real-world experience, we've come a long way into becoming, lets say, somewhat dangerous. I think of the building coming down on my head and grin. There is still plenty of room for improvement.

We are heading back to the simulator when a something in one of my inner pockets heats up and buzzes. I panic a bit. Then I fish out the little flat stone, look at it and take in a deep calming breath. "Sorry, Suzy. Duty calls." I race towards the floo, while Susan scratches her head, frowning at my back.

I tumble out of the floo to see Fleur sitting on the floor, propped against the kitchen counter, a puddle of water under her. She's wearing a ratty Gryffindor shirt pulled up to her waist, and nothing else. There is dried tears on her face. "'arry! Zank Maeve. I 'ad a 'uge contraction, and ze water broke. Now I can't get up."

"Just wait there, love. I'll pick up your things and we'll be on our way in a second." Bill was supposed to stay near home all during the first half of May. But one of Gringotts teams got in some kind of trouble in Guatemala, and off he went. I'm the back up. We do not fully trust anyone in magical Britain with the well-being of the two people currently on the kitchen floor. Constant vigilance.

Right on top of the little gray bag, a galleon-sized brass disk with a caduceus imprint. St. Mungos' portkey. It's specially made to transport critical patients gently. I cast a patronus and send Prongs to Hermione, telling her that Fleur is in labor. I shrink the gray bag, put it in my pocket, carefully pick up Fleur from the floor, plant my feet in a solid base and speak 'medical emergency'.

The trip feels like a strong wind from the back, with a slight twist at the end. It also takes a lot longer than a regular portkey. The transport triggers a contraction, so we arrive at St. Mungos with Fleur screaming.

They are efficient. In less than a minute they come with a wheelchair, and a young woman asks questions as we move towards the delivery room and Fleur whimpers. They levitate Fleur to the delivery table as I finish answering their questions. An older wizard in healer's robes introduces himself. "I'm Healer Gupta. I'll be taking care of Mrs. Weasley today."

I shake the extended hand. "I'm Harry Potter, sir." To my surprise, he shows no recognition.

He looks at a chart as he speaks. "You are not the child's father."

"No. He's was called away for a work emergency. I am a friend of the family."

"I understand. Feel free to wait outside. We will keep you informed."

"Very well." I look at the people left in the room, looking for any signs of hostility or ill-will towards Fleur, but I only see quiet professionalism. Finally, I approach Fleur. "I'll be waiting outside."

She just grabs my hand. "No! You stay."

"You sure?"

"Oui." I look at the healer, and he nods quietly.

I learn a few things in the hours that follow. First, one I already knew: I'd rather be in pain than to watch someone I care about suffer. Second, Fleur is even stronger than I thought. I will never look at mothers the same way. Third, childbirth is like a magical ritual. A large reward at the end, bought with pain, blood and exhaustion. That third is a little weird, I know. Exhaustion does strange things to my mind.

About four hours in, Fleur is between contractions when I feel Gabrielle's bubbly excitement. Even through the haze, Fleur notes my smile. "What is eet?"

"Elle is outside."

She manages a tired smile too. "Ah, zat's good."

Given the pain and frustration, I'm surprised there are no feathers or fireballs to be seen. I cut the cord, and I'm given a cleaned up, swaddled little bundle to hold. I feel a tickle of magic from the newborn, and Elle's excitement ratchets up a notch. Fleur had fallen asleep briefly, but she soon wakes up and I place her daughter in her arms. Her glowing smile makes all the labor pains seem trivial.

"Well done, pretty bird."

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Of course." A red, wrinkled, bald little thing, but who am I to judge?

"'arry James Potter, I'd like you to meet your goddaughter, Victoire Henriette Weasley."

I caress the soft top of the baby's head with a finger. She opens her eyes, uncovering a pair of unfocused sapphires that seem to glow softly. "That's a real mouthful," I whisper. I'm truly touched by the choice of middle name, even as I pity the poor girl saddled with it. "Are you sure?"

"William and I are in agreement."

I bow a little. "I'm truly honored."

"Thank you, 'arry." She pull me forward and gives me a long kiss in the forehead. "Now go outside and do ze fazzer zing, please."

"Very well."

"And go 'ome afterwards. You stink."

True, I guess. I'm still on auror training robes. "I'll shower, change and come back." I'm not about to leave these two unprotected overnight.

"Zat's fine. Now go."

Out the door and twenty paces to the right there is a small waiting room. Before I even get there, a small blonde attempts to tackle me. "Magus!" she yells as she hugs me.

I kiss her on the top of the head. "Hey." The empathic link intensifies with contact. The haze of exhaustion lifts a bit, my head cleared by the happy fire of her presence. We walk the last few paces together, hand in hand. Everybody gets up when I arrive. The Weasleys, Molly, Arthur, George, Ron and Ginny, plus Angelina and Hermione and the Delacours, Jean-Paul and Apolline. Saveral people talk at once, with Molly's screech drowning the others. "What is he doing here?"

I nod to Hermione, mouthing a soundless 'thanks' and getting a smile and a nod in return. I lift one hand, palm towards them, and wait for them to give me a chance to speak. Finally, Arthur manages to get Molly to shut up, and all eyes turn to me. "I, Harry James, would like to announce the birth of Victoire Henriette at eleven forty-four in the evening, a veela, daughter of William Arthur and Fleur Isabelle. Both mother and daughter are in fine health."

There is a brief silence, and Arthur responds. "I, Arthur Septimus, head of House Weasley, welcome my granddaughter Victoire Henriette to the family, so mote it be!" A small flash recognizes the acceptance. Everyone applauds, except Molly.

Again, several people speak at once, and again, Molly's voice covers everybody else. "Where is Bill?"

People turn to me. "There was an accident at a dig in Guatemala. A couple of curse-breakers were caught in a trap and Bill was asked to help. He left three days ago and asked me to do Godfather duty, if needed."

"Can we go in?" Jean-Paul asks.

"Three people at a time." I turn to Gabrielle, who seems to have taken permanent possession of my left hand ."Go meet your niece."

"You will stay here?"

"I'm going home for a bath and a change of clothes, and I'm coming right back."

"Ok." She follows her parents into the birthing room.

Hermione approaches me with arms open for a hug, but she changes her mind when she gets closer, and ends up standing about two feet away with a vaguely disgusted face. "I know. I stink."

"Yes you do."

"I'm surprised you came. I mean, with revisions and all."

A shy little smile. "I'm a girl, Harry. I like babies."

"Well... right now I can't understand why anyone would ever agree to have a second one."

"It's rather shocking, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

"People say the second one is easier." I look doubtful. She shrugs. "It's probably a lie."

We both laugh. Ginny manages to get away from Molly and approaches us. "Hey."

"Hey, Harry." She looks a little defeated.

"So? How are things?"

A sparkle of defiance. "What do you think?" It only lasts for a second.

"I'm just asking, Gin."

"I may be able to pass Charms. Transfiguration and Defense are hopeless." It makes sense. NEWT transfiguration and Defense are power heavy. Charms can be more subtle.

"That makes sense. What about afterwards?"

"I've been writing a sports column for the Quibbler."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah..." She looks dejected.

"Find something that makes you happy."

"I've been telling her that." Hermione interjects.

"I don't really want to write about sports."

"Then don't." I think about the Quibbler, and that brings someone else to mind. If they are in touch... "You should listen to Luna."

Ginny twists her lips in a smirk. "She says I have too many wrackspurts."

"Of course you do." I laugh a little. "Just listen to her. Maybe get a butterbeer cork necklace, or whatever will frighten away those pesky snorkacks these days. "

Hermione frowns at me and presses her lips together in a McGonnagall impression. Ginny looks a little offended. "Be serious, Harry." Before I can open my mouth she adds: "and I don't mean your Godfather."

I manage with just a little titter. "Honestly, Luna is the wisest person I've ever met."

Ginny pauses to think for a bit and frowns. "She did say... that I shouldn't worry. That something would turn up."

"Then something will surely turn up. I never knew her to be wrong about such things."

Ginny snorts. "You're as bad as she is."

"And I'll take that as a compliment."

Ginny huffs, turns around and returns to her mother, who glares at me. Hermione puts her fists on her hips. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Ginny the very best advice I can."

She growls "Right."

"I'd give you the same advice, but I know you wouldn't follow it."

"That's because I'm sane, Harry."

"I wouldn't brag about it."

July 19th, 1999

A tragic love story between a mermaid and a human. Given my history with Gabrielle, one might say that's either in very poor taste, or quite appropriate. As it turns out, it doesn't matter.

The Sadler's Wells theater is a modern glass and red brick building set in a busy street in North-Central London. We arrive half an hour before the curtains, coming by cab from Grimmaulds Place, Gabrielle is a vision of high-class cuteness. She is wearing a white and silver dress with short puffy sleeves, ending right above her knees, white stockings and polished black leather shoes with inch-high heels, a delicate goblin silver and sapphire choker and her silver hair is loose, down to the small or her back, held off her face by a pair of silver combs. Two afternoons taking care my little goddaughter, one for shopping and one to put together the ensemble. No hardship and well worth it. I've rarely seen the sisters so happy together.

I had to do her justice, so a dark gray Savile Row suit with all the trimmings, and my hair tamed with Sleekeazy. Add to the muggle finery a bit of concealer over my scar and contacts, and I'm probably anonymous enough to avoid tomorrow's headlines. And good looking too, from the stares.

We're just standing near a bar, waiting a little, just enjoying the bustle. Gabrielle is making an effort to look composed, but she's bursting with excitement. She loves ballet, both dancing and watching.

A little surprise begins when a high pitch, slightly nasal voice comes from behind. "Mr. Potter?"

Her name is Akari Sano, if I'm not mistaken. Tiny, five-two in heels, slight figure, indeterminate age, somewhere north of mid-twenties. Wrapped in a strapless dark green velvet dress that works hard to make the best of her assets. A gold necklace with a gorgeous scarab beetle pendant, probably enchanted to the hilt. Hair held up in an artful arrangement, with what I presume is her wand stuck through. Interesting way to keep it handy, I guess. She's the representative of Nippon's Magical Congress to the Ministry. I've met her a couple of times, getting the impression of a clever witch that plays her cards superglued to her chest. I suppose my token effort at disguise would not fool a seasoned diplomat.

I bow briefly. "Madam Sano. Please meet Gabrielle Delacour."

Gabrielle does a perfect curtsy. She's a politicians' daughter. "A pleasure, Madam."

Ms. Sano accepts her greeting with a slight head bow. "Any relation to the French Mugwump?" She asks in accentless english.

"My father."

"Ah! Please send my regards."

"With pleasure."

"Madam Sano is the Nipponese representative to Magical Britain."

Gabrielle nods. "What can I do for you, Madam Sano?" I ask.

"Please, call me Akari." she approaches me, standing a bit too close.

"If you will call me Harry." Gemma and Fleur cured me of getting flustered by flirting witches, even one as interesting as Madam Sano.

"I have a small request from my government to pass on to you, Harry." She plays with my lapel as she speaks. Not very diplomatic. "Perhaps you would let me treat you to a japanese meal..."

She is interrupted by a flash of allure from Gabrielle. Not particularly strong, but enough to stop conversations and turn heads. It also leaves Akari Sano with unfocused eyes and a slack mouth.

I turn to Gabrielle, who is feeling truly, enormously embarrassed. "Sorry!"

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"No! Of course not."

"Then you did nothing wrong." She hears my words and feels my sincerity, so she relaxes a little. "Was it the first time?" She nods. I try to smile reassuringly and I get a burst of affection in return.

In the mean time, the diplomat managed to recompose herself. She gives Gabrielle a dirty look and speaks in a cold tone. "I'll be in touch Mr. Potter." I guess I'm not Harry anymore. Probably the company I keep.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"She was coming onto you, but I felt she was faking it. I mean, you saw how she reacted. So, I got really angry... you're amused!"

"Yeah. It was kind of funny."

Gabrielle ponders that for a bit, then giggles. "Yeah, I guess it was."

The ballet begins with a solo, the water sprite Ondine, who lived her whole life underwater, discovering land. She dances, first in a fountain, then with her own shadow, which she had never seen. Even knowing nothing about ballet, it is a beautiful scene. With Gabrielle sitting at the edge of her seat, absolutely entranced, broadcasting wonderment and pleasure it becomes an unforgettable experience. During the first interval, I think what kind of experience I could share with Gabrielle. The answer is obvious. The one thing that moves me like ballet seems to move her is flying. Also magic, sometimes. And making love... the memory of a smiling Gemma lying naked in bed, evokes some painful longing and shows me that I am not really over her.

Gabrielle probably feels it as a jumble. "What is it?" She asks, worried.

A little lesson. No brooding near her. "I'm an idiot."

"Sure. But..." I'm saved by the curtains.

The story is a romantic tragedy, which ends in senseless death and heartbreak. Despite the joy of the dancing and the music, both Gabrielle and I leave in a somewhat somber mood. "I really loved it, thank you. But I prefer happy endings," Gabrielle sums it up when we portkey to Shell Cottage.

"I completely agree." Too many tragedies in real life. "Swan Lake next?"

She nods, her mood turning instantly. "I've seen it at the Opera, but I would love to see it with the Royal. And it has a happy ending."

"I'll find the tickets."

October 8th, 1999

It's a little odd that Susan doesn't show up that morning. Still, I go about my routine without her. I begin with a couple of turns at the training circuit, a challenge track that pushes you hard, both physically and magically, followed by a hot shower and a couple of hours hiding in Hermione's office, cramming on legal procedure.

Hermione was snapped up by Kingsley upon graduation and placed in the Minister's staff as a legislative assistant. This means a nice little office on the third floor and an endless series of eighty-hour weeks, trying to fix what may very well be irretrievably broken. Still, her office comes equipped with a big law library, and a rather cute, somewhat impatient and very knowledgeable tutor.

My offer to buy lunch is declined, as she brought her own and plans to work right through. So I head out to the cafeteria and my day takes a turn for the worse, when I run into Gemma.

I stand transfixed for a moment, drinking in her looks. Open robes in dark gray over a very simple cream-colored dress, with her usual hint of cleavage, ending right above the knees, and black, soft leather boots. Classy and attractive, as always. Her smile seems strained, as she introduces her companion. "Harry Potter, meet Geoffrey Sirkis, my boyfriend."

My heart skips a beat with her words. I do a quick examination as I shake the wizard's hand. Tall and thin, haughty countenance with sharp features. Well cut acromantula robes. Soft, manicured hands and a limp handshake. If memory serves, Sirkis is a small gray family of means, which stayed out of the fray during the war. He's probably in his early thirties. "Well met, Mr. Sirkis," I manage to squeeze out.

"It's an honor Auror Potter." His arch tone denotes the opposite. "Our society is deep in your debt."

I give a slight bow in acknowledgment. I find insincere praise somewhat easy to handle. "Thank you." I turn to Gemma and grin. "I'm headed for lunch. Would you two care to join me?"

Gemma is a little flustered, trying to find a polite way to decline, and her boyfriend comes to the rescue. "I apologize, auror, but Gemma and I are rather pressed for time today. Another occasion, perhaps?"

"Of course." We part, Gemma firmly attached to the wizard's arm.

I'm eating my second helping of treacle tart, vainly trying to mend my broken heart with dessert, when Susan walks in with a black cloud over her head. She orders steak, bloody, and glares at me.

"Good afternoon, Suzy."

"Shut up, Potter."

For no reason I can fathom, angry Susan lifts my spirits better than treacle tart. Maybe misery enjoys company. I just watch over a cup of tea, as she demolishes her steak. I'm pretty sure I'm not the source of her anger, and I'm hoping for a clue after lunch. In vain as it turns out.

Instead, we head for a stake out of a small apothecary off Knockturn. Suspicion of trading in illegal potions, with not enough to warrant a search of the premises. We wait, disillusioned, in a nook between the storefront and an apparition point. Over the next four hours, half a dozen people go in and out of the store, with nothing overt to raise suspicion. Then we strike paydirt.

A scruffy-looking wizard walks up fast from the apparition point, nervous and trying to make sure he is not followed. Amateur, not a professional creep. He walks back and forth a couple of times in front of the store and walks in abruptly. A few minutes later he emerges, looks suspiciously in both directions and takes off at a near run towards the apparition point. Susan intercepts the bloke, pulling him forcefully into the nook. As I apply a quick set of privacy charms.

"You can't do this. What do you want?"

"What did you buy?" Susan asks softly.

"It's none of your..." A muffled crack. A scream.

Susan points her wand away from the guys foot. "You broke my toe!" The guy screams, nearly in tears. A silent, point cast, really delicate bone breaker. Remarkable. I'm not sure if I slow clap or arrest her.

She continues in the same soft tone. "Answer me or I'll break more."

"Just some pain potions..." Another crack, another scream.

"All right, all right!" He opens a concealed pocket on his jacket and pulls out four opaque jars. I pick one up, open it and take a sniff. It's unmistakable. "Polyjuice."

A favorite of perverts and criminals. Six months to two years for unauthorized possession, more for brewing and selling. We had no idea what we were doing second year.

The sluices open and the sorry rot comes out. A hooker's acquaintance. A few sickles and a blow job in exchange for a quick potion run. A little obliviation and we send fellow on his way, minus one of his potion flasks. Discrete enough not to warn the store owner, we hope. Next, drop the potion for analysis, a little creative reporting, and we will be able to search the store early Monday morning.

We are changing back to our civvies. "That was pretty harsh," I finally say.

She looks at me for a moment and the anger seems to drain away, leaving her looking a little defeated. "Sorry."

I wave her apology away. "Don't worry. It was a good bust."

She tightens her lips into a this line. "A drink?"

"I could sure use one."

The pub, a new one next to Magical Menagerie, is packed with the Friday night crowd. We luck into an unoccupied booth near the bathroom. It takes two rounds for the dirt to come out. Susan's boyfriend, ex boyfriend after last night, actually, turned out to be a real douche, more interested in the Bones' vault than in Susan's shapely assets or great personality. We agree on the evil of wizards everywhere, present company excluded. Another couple of rounds, and my sorry woes with ex-girlfriends who move on too fast come out. We exchange a few dirty jokes, and laugh too loud.

Late next morning I awake with a splitting headache, and a naked redhead snoring on my chest. Also, the smell of sweat and intercourse. Unfortunately, I remember nothing beyond a filthy joke involving a fairy and a niffler.