It was one of those times where she really missed having her friends nearby. A veritable mountain of clothing was piled onto her bed, but Gabrielle couldn't decide on the right outfit. Should she wear something elegant, classy? Something daring, sensual?
Harry had left shortly after her party wound down, claiming that he needed to make arrangements for their 'evening out' ('Honestly, did he need to be so coy about their date?'), so she couldn't ask him for more details. Of course, that also meant that he'd be totally unprepared and surprised by her outfit.
That thought in mind, she picked out an outfit that a muggleborn classmate of hers had badgered Gabrielle into purchasing during a shopping trip in Paris. It was an off the shoulder light-blue blouse, flowing and loose that she tied just above the waist to bare her stomach. A halter top beneath meant she had no need for a brassiere, and she finished the outfit with a skirt that sat three inches above her knees.
Adding a pair of heels to emphasize the length of her legs, Gabrielle pulled a chair in front of the mirror to apply the proper cosmetics and to arrange her hair. She knew from experience just how sweltering the dance floor could be, so she made sure that her long hair didn't sit on her neck. Like her mother always said, 'Men may sweat, but women should glow'.
Stepping back to take in her complete appearance before the full-length mirror, Gabrielle nodded in approval. Every nightclub in Paris would compete to have a beauty as ravishing as hers grace their establishment! 'Harry doesn't stand a chance!' she crowed internally.
She heard her sister call for her from downstairs, announcing Harry's arrival. As she walked into the dining room, Bill let out a loud wolf whistle.
"Lookin' good there, Gabby!"
Fleur nodded in agreement, holding Teddy's hand. "Very lovely."
Gabrielle smiled prettily at both Teddy and Victoire's effusive compliments but kept her eyes on the man escorting her this evening. Harry had on robes, very fine ones, to be sure, but robes nonetheless. She was so surprised at his choice of outfit that she forgot to watch his expression as he looked her up and down.
"You look incredible," he said, eyes still raking over her head to toe. "I think- I mean, I guess that dress robes don't really match-"
"Allow me," Fleur interrupted, withdrawing her wand. She concentrated for a few seconds, then with a simple tap, transfigured his clothing into slacks, a dress shirt, and a slim black sports coat. "There. You two have fun! Harry, don't keep her out too late."
"I won't. Thanks again for watching Teddy," Harry squatted down, meeting his godson's eyes. "You're going to be good for Aunt Fleur, right?"
His grouchiness from earlier apparently gone, the child nodded obediently. "Okay. Can I come next time?"
Gabrielle laughed gaily, approaching to give him a hug of her own. "Of course. Sleep well, monsieur."
"Do you promise?" he whispered into her hair, and she didn't know how to reply, so she offered a gentle smile and moved to join Harry by the fireplace.
"Our destination is the Leaky Cauldron," Harry instructed, careful to enunciate the words clearly.
They emerged into a dingy pub, filled with wizards and witches, staffed by a wrinkled old codger who gave them a cheerful wave. "'lo there, Mister Potter!" 'Surely this wasn't where he was taking her!'
The din seemed to die down at that greeting. Honestly, with how good she looked, Gabrielle wasn't surprised.
"Hi Tom, looks like a busy night."
"Aye, can't complain about that," he replied, filling two mugs from a tapped barrel of mead, sliding them down the bar. "Be needin' dinner tonight?"
"No, just passing through," Harry thankfully replied, holding out his arm for Gabrielle to take in relief as they exited the pub.
They walked together in silence past several shops before he spoke again. "Sorry about that. I don't think I'll ever get used to the way people gawk at me."
Squeezing his arm a little tighter, she easily replied, "It's fine, although I think it is a bit self-centred of you to assume they were not staring at me."
"You're right, of course," Harry laughed. "You really do look very beautiful."
She preened at his words. Coming to a halt in front of an unremarkable door, Harry tapped the top hinge twice with his wand. A man in robes that made Harry's previous ones look absolutely pedestrian by comparison answered. "Yes?"
"I spoke with someone earlier about a reservation? Potter, party of two."
"Of course! It's an honour to have the Saviour grace our establishment," he said, the awestruck look on his face souring as he regarded Gabrielle, his pencil-thin moustache twitching, as though fighting to keep his lip from curling. "If you and your… companion would follow me, I'll show you to your table."
They entered what appeared to be a large cloakroom, but the maitre d' opened a hidden door on the opposite wall, revealing an opulent dining room. Wizards and witches raised their eyebrows as they walked to their table. A bottle of champagne was already on ice, water glasses filled as they pulled their chairs out, and the candles ignited with a snap of his fingers.
"Your waiter will be by momentarily. Please enjoy your meal."
Unlike at the Leaky Cauldron, every eye was most certainly on her, and the expressions of the other patrons ranged from calculating to derisive. The attention was like ants crawling down her collar, and Gabrielle felt intensely uncomfortable.
"I know it's a little stuffy. I asked Neville - one of my old mates from Hogwarts - what he thought the nicest restaurant in Magical Britain was. His grandmother is a posh sort, and she'd told him about this place. Would you believe they required me to Floo over in person to make the reservation? Said that people try to use my name to get a table at least once a week!"
She tried to smile in reply, but couldn't focus on anything other than the whispers and speculative glances from the other tables. The waiter arrived, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring them each a glass. Eager to settle her nerves, Gabrielle drank hers before he'd finished reciting the specials.
The fare was… adequate, for a restaurant in England, she thought idly, holding her glass out for a refill and agreeing to his suggestion of a lamb dish of some sort. Collecting their menus, the waiter stepped away, leaving them to their conversation.
"Are you okay? You seem, uh, a bit nervous."
Gabrielle bit her lip. "Everyone is looking at me."
"You don't need to whisper, there's privacy charms around every table. And they're probably just surprised to see people in muggle clothing dining here."
"Okay," she mumbled, finishing her second glass, and trying to focus on their conversation, their date, him. She was pleasantly surprised to find out just how manageable that was after Harry reached across the table to hold her hand.
He was interested in her, in Gabrielle Delacour, the person. Harry asked her about Beauxbatons, her family home, what she wanted to do when she was a child, her favourite books and Wireless serials; it felt so nice to have someone's genuine attention for once. Their food arrived, and although it smelled wonderful, she barely picked at it, preferring more champagne and their engrossing chatter.
A sudden light and the pop! of a flashbulb startled them both.
"Harry, darling, so lovely to see you again!"
He closed his eyes briefly, visibly suppressing annoyance. "Rita, what a surprise. I was told that The Gilded Griffin only catered to the most exclusive clientele."
The woman, wearing acid-green eyeglasses and far too much makeup, giggled nastily and leaned over the table towards Gabrielle. "Oh, absolutely. That's why it always helps to slip a few Galleons to the help, to keep tabs on who shows up… and who they're with." The predatory glint in her eyes was unnerving, to say the least. "Tell me about this lovely young woman you're dining with, won't you?"
"I am Gabrielle Delacour," she said, holding her head high. She had no reason to worry, after all; despite this woman's pushiness, she and Harry had done nothing scandalous or noteworthy.
"A foreign witch? My, my; looks like you spent your year abroad developing exotic tastes, eh Harry?" Rita adjusted her glasses, scanning Gabrielle's body up and down. "I'd love to sit down and have a chat with you, Miss Delacour; you know, some girl talk between friends!"
"I agreed that we'd meet on Thursday to go over my plans now that I've returned, didn't I? If you still want that interview, you'll leave. Now."
"If you say so, but the people are so interested in what you've been up to, you naughty man!"
"Excuse me, miss," mercifully, the maitre d' returned. "You're disturbing our patrons. If you do not leave, I'll be forced to call the authorities."
"Well, I wouldn't want to cause a scene," Skeeter said, as though she didn't already have the attention of everyone in the establishment.
He was trying hard to maintain the pleasurable atmosphere that they'd shared prior to the interruption, but Gabrielle could tell that Harry was preoccupied with that woman that disturbed their meal. He'd described her as a gossipmonger, one that worked for the national daily paper and who was often quite vicious toward his friends.
It was hard for her to be all that concerned, though; after all, she was a beautiful, intelligent woman. Who better to be out with the most famous man in the country? Certainly it would be expected, the way that the hero in romance dramas always came home to the vivacious female lead, who'd been loyally waiting for him the whole time. She knew he wasn't involved with anyone by his own admission, so what was the problem if a picture of their date made the society page?
Gabrielle leaned her head on his shoulder, pulling his attention back towards her as they walked away from the Gilded Griffon. "Next we go dancing?"
"That's right. I'm sorry that our dinner turned out that way. I wish they'd just let me live my life!"
"It's okay, dinner was still wonderful. I appreciate you taking me there." 'Their champagne was quite good' she thought, feeling the warm fuzziness of inebriation, lifting her head to whisper into his ear, "I can't wait to get you onto the dance floor."
Harry blushed to the roots of his hair. "Err, right," he squeaked before clearing his throat. "Andi told me about this place, she said that her husband used to take her here all the time when they first got married."
She looked up at the facade over the entrance of the building he'd led her to. "'Twirling Tina's and her Cavorting Crooners'? Is this- we can dance here?"
He nodded, transparently seeking out her approval for his pick so she offered up a weak smile, feigning enthusiasm at the prospect. They walked inside and were promptly greeted by a Twirling Tina herself - a heavyset woman that looked older than her grandmother, wearing an ostentatious ballgown, complete with frills and ruffles.
Reaching into his pocket, Harry withdrew some Galleons. "Two tickets, please."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to bring this… woman into our premises," she said, staring at Gabrielle's outfit in clear disapproval. "We're a respectable establishment, not the type that caters in such indecent activity!"
Gabrielle was stunned, too surprised to even muster indignation; Harry, though, seemed to have enough for the both of them. "Excuse me? All we did was walk in the door, I can't imagine what you find indecent about our mere presence."
"This is not a place for witches to come in dressed like- like-," she seemed to bite her tongue. "This is my business, my livelihood. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable at one of the gentleman's clubs in Knockturn Alley. I believe they can accommodate the type of dancing you seek."
Whatever that meant, Harry was practically white with rage. "I'm not going to forget this," he ground out, through clenched teeth, taking Gabrielle's hand and storming outside.
"I don't understand," Gabrielle said. "What is Knockturn Alley?"
"Don't worry about it, she was- she's just an old bag, stuck in another century." He looked somewhat at a loss, holding tight to her hand, standing outside the ballroom. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to go dancing, but-"
She couldn't help but giggle, pointing at the couples engaged in a box waltz inside, clearly visible through the grand windows. "That's not the sort of dancing I'd imagined. Have you never been to a discotheque? A nightclub?"
'He's cute when he frowns' "I don't know where we'd find something like that. None of my friends have ever mentioned that sort of thing…"
"We are in London! Take us to a taxi, and we'll manage on our own."
She draped herself over him, and he apparated them both to an alley on the muggle side of the city. Digging through his pockets, he withdrew some crumpled pound notes and they hopped in a taxi, eventually finding themselves outside of a nightclub, the line to enter winding down the street.
Here, Gabrielle was in her element, tugging on his hand to pull him to the front of the line. Just as she'd expected when choosing her outfit, the bouncer manning the door took one look at her and gestured for her to enter, casting furtive glances at her figure as she passed.
The music was loud, heavy bass notes vibrating in her breastbone. The press of bodies in the crowded club meant that both of them wore a sheen of sweat within minutes, accentuated once they reached the dance floor. Loosened up by the champagne, Gabrielle wasted no time in moving with the music, but her date awkwardly stood, shifting from foot to foot.
"Haven't you ever danced before?" she shouted into his ear.
He shook his head no. She smiled, taking his hands in her own and placing one on her hip, the other on her derrière. "I'll teach you!"
And she did just that. After an hour, she'd turned him into a passable dancer - for an Englishman, at least - and he seemed to relax and enjoy himself, judging by the way his hands were inside her shirt, his fingertips occasionally grazing the band of her halter top.
It was time. Holding onto his arm, she led him back to the street, leading Harry away from the club and ducking into a deserted alley.
"That was fun but Merlin, I need a shower!" He was still half-shouting, both their eardrums throbbing from the music.
Relaxing her control of her allure, she looped her arms around his neck and was rewarded with his pupils dilating. "The night isn't over. We could take one at your house."
She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed heavily, and was tempted to stand on her tip-toe and trace it with her tongue. "Er, it's pretty late. I should probably get you home."
There was no one to interrupt this time, no rescue waiting in the wings. Gabrielle unleashed the full power of her abilities, ironically honed to an even greater strength after her many sessions with her sister. His arms tightened around her, his fingers clenching and squeezing her tighter into his embrace.
Gabrielle didn't hold back, neither with her allure nor her actions, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she moved to kiss him, her eyelids fluttering shut as she approached. He was so strong, she thought, luxuriating in the way his arms held her-
"Stop."
Her jaw dropped. He couldn't- how was he-, she narrowed her eyes in frustration, opening the floodgates and forcing every iota of power she could muster into her allure. "Take us back to your home."
Several seconds passed, and she could feel new beads of sweat break out over her brow. She'd never employed her abilities to this extent for a prolonged period. "Okay, hold on."
The squeezing sensation of apparition came and went, and suddenly she was in a dour and dark entryway. Harry released her from his embrace, holding one finger up to his lips in a gesture to stay silent, then led her to a sitting room decorated with antique but comfortable furnishings.
"We should talk," he started, once they'd sat in a loveseat.
"Non," she gasped, struggling to maintain the pressure. "Kiss me."
He pressed a gentle peck to her forehead, tucking her sweaty bangs behind her ears before whispering, "You know, your allure is pretty out of control right now."
It was like the waves of her power had just crashed into the rocks of his own. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, shame, embarrassment, and humiliation burning inside of her.
"It's okay, Fleur explained to me how it works. You don't have anything to feel bad about."
"She- she told you?"
He nodded. "She said that sometimes veela can lose control over their abilities in emotional moments. It's okay."
"But you, you weren't affected? Not at all?"
Harry tapped the faded outline of his famous scar. "I was forced to endure quite a lot of attacks on my will and my mind during the war. I guess I have something of an immunity."
Hanging her head in defeat, Gabrielle wanted nothing more than to go home. She'd tried her best, and she still failed. 'No wonder grandmother didn't want me at the commune. Some veela I turned out to be'
"Hey, don't cry," he soothed. "It's really fine, it's sort of flattering."
Flattering. If she weren't so exhausted, she might have roasted him for that sort of patronization, but the champagne, dancing, and her allure had sapped the energy out of her. "I guess I'll go back to Fleur's then."
"Wait, I meant it when I said we should talk. Can you stay just a bit longer?"
She nodded, settling back and waiting for him to speak.
"It's kind of a crazy coincidence, both of us coming to Britain at the same time. And even though it might seem forward, I- I'd like to…" he seemed to steady himself, meeting her eyes with a determined look. "I'd like it if we could go on a date sometime."
"Don't you mean another date?" she asked, giving him a tired smile and a kiss on the cheek. "I'd like that."
Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Brilliant!"
Gabrielle nodded, feeling too drained and exhausted to share his enthusiasm. Masking a yawn with her hand, she stood from the loveseat. "I think I'll Floo back to Shell Cottage now. I have work tomorrow, after all."
He agreed, walking her to the Floo. When she got back to Fleur's, the lights were out and thankfully there was no one waiting to greet her. Once again, her plans had failed; who could have expected that he'd have an immunity to the veela allure? This would surely complicate things.
Undressing, she took a quick shower, washing away the sweat and grime. The champagne left her with a headache, so she scoured the kitchen for a potion to make sure that she'd not be suffering at work the next day.
So Fleur had warned him ahead of time, had she? Just one more in a long line of indignities and backstabbing. She had a job and a boyfriend now; maybe Harry wasn't enthralled by her veela abilities, but that didn't mean Gabrielle wouldn't be able to convert him to her way of thinking. It would simply require a more subtle form of manipulation.
Slipping on her nightgown, she opened the door to her room, pausing when she saw the lump beneath her blankets.
"Teddy? What are you doing here?"
The little boy rubbed at his eyes. "Aunt Fleur always tucks in Victoire."
"Did she not tuck you in also?"
He pulled the blankets up to his chin, as though hiding from the question. "I- I wanted to wait for you."
Holding back a sigh, she tugged the blankets down, grunting as she lifted him up. "We can't wake up Victoire, do you understand?"
"Okay."
She tucked him in next to her niece, running a hand through his golden-blonde hair, then stumbled back to her bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
All in all, her best birthday in years.
Her first thought was how grateful she was to have the foresight to take a hangover curative before bed. Champagne always did leave her sluggish the next day. Her second thought, upon realizing just how much sunlight was streaming in through her window, was that she was late!
Cleaning her teeth in a hurry, she ran a brush through her hair and threw on the clothes that she'd worn to her interview at the Ministry, running downstairs as soon as she was dressed.
"Someone had a late night," Bill teased, his gentle ribbing going completely unheeded as she ran past him.
"Good morn- Gabby, wait!" Fleur was seated at the kitchen table, the morning paper open in front of her.
"No time for breakfast, I'll see you after work!"
"But-" Her reply was cut off by the rush of green flames, the Floo sending her spinning away to the address that Ron had provided her the day before.
"Hey, Gabby!" George was sipping at a cup of tea and wearing a set of brown work robes. "Showing up early, eh? I like a go-getter!"
"You mean," she huffed, slightly out of breath from her mad dash to get there, "that I'm not late?"
"Nah, we don't open 'til eleven. Toast?"
She shrugged, accepting the plate and reaching for the marmalade. "So what will I be doing, exactly?"
"Ron and I are going to start you on the register. All the products have price labels, so just add them up, tack on five per cent for the Ministry's cut, and take their coin."
"That sounds easy enough."
George nodded. "It won't be that busy. Most of our in-store customers come at the start of summer and during school shopping, so you don't have to worry about being overwhelmed."
"Okay," she replied. It did sound easy. "Where will you be?"
"Back here. This is the employee area," he gestured to the room they sat in. "Ron puts together packages for us to ship to mail-order customers, and I work on product development."
His grin grew wider as he said that, and Gabrielle eyed him suspiciously. "What's so funny?"
Waving his wand, George summoned a mirror, holding it up to show her reflection. "Mascara Marmalade. The time-saver every witch deserves!"
She looked like- like a raccoon, her face coated with a slap-dash of cosmetics. "I look horrible!"
Stifling his laughter, he offered a shrug in reply. "Well, you can't blame me for not being an expert at putting on makeup."
"Get rid of it!"
"No can do, sorry. Don't worry, all our prototypes come with a time-delay. It'll vanish in an hour or so."
She groaned in frustration, remembering Harry's warnings the day before, suddenly grateful that he'd taken away the candies that George had given her. "Fine. Should I go set up? It's nearly time to open."
"Sure, I'll show you around and get you set up."
Before they could go anywhere, though, Ron rushed in from the front of the store, breathing heavily. "Uh, guys, you should come see this."
"What?"
"Just come look."
The three of them walked into the front of the shop, and through the store windows, a muted roar could be heard from the crowd of people waiting outside, camera flashes lighting up as they were spotted.
George seemed unconcerned. "Guess they heard about our new Instant Imitator lozenges. I told you they were going to be a big hit!"
"Um, I think they're probably here about this," Ron countered, pulling out a copy of the Daily Prophet and passing it over.
Gabrielle gasped as she saw a photo of Harry and her leaving the restaurant the night before, the picture version of herself slightly unsteady in her gait. Feathers sprouted along her arms as she read the headline, and beneath the hideous makeup she still sported, a deep blush formed.
Man-Who-Conquered Caught Dallying with Foreign Prostitute!