Harry was just the right amount of drunk after finishing his beer. He was full of energy and strangely free of his usual sense of responsibility for everyone's well-being. I'm actually allowed to enjoy myself. If I don't greet anyone else tonight, that's perfectly all right.

His Light magic was flowing, and he saw several witches he wanted to dance with, including Lisa. But first Daphne, he thought. There was no chance they'd ever date, but she seemed ready to loosen up a bit, and he was keen to help things along.

'Greengrass!' he called. She was with Tracey Davis and Padma Patil, who had clearly been dancing, but Daphne looked like she was attending a garden party. 'Don't tell me you haven't been to the dance floor yet!'

'Then I won't,' said Daphne. 'Tracey can tell you instead.'

'She hasn't been to the dance floor,' said Tracey. 'Believe me, we tried, but I think she's afraid her mum will find out.'

'I am not. I simply don't care for that kind of dancing.'

'How can you not like this kind of dancing?' said Harry. 'You're nineteen, not ninety!'

'I never learnt how to dance that way,' she said primly.

'There's nothing to learn! Well, maybe there is if you're a professional dancer or something, but no one here is like that, except maybe Neville. All you need to do is move! Come on, I'll show you.'

Daphne looked tempted, but she remained in place. Harry extended his hand and said, 'Really, Greengrass—won't you dance with a fellow Slytherin? I used to speak Parseltongue and everything.'

'Fine,' she said, taking his hand. 'But behave yourself!'

'Godric's honour! Oh bugger, wrong founder. But don't worry—my long-term plan is to introduce you to someone who'll take your surname and inject some hybrid vigour into the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass.'

'Don't count on it,' she scoffed, and he led her to the dance floor. An up-tempo song was playing, and she carefully began dancing to it. Harry maintained a respectful distance, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but when other witches tried to intervene Daphne pulled him close.

'Miss Greengrass!' he exclaimed, batting his eyelashes.

'I won't be shoved out of the way by one of your aspirants!' she said indignantly. 'The last thing I want is to look like I'm vying for your attention.'

'You have all my attention,' he said, automatically turning on the charm.

A wry smile crossed her lips. 'So this is the Harry Potter-Black who seduces a new witch every week. It's amusing to meet him, but you're wasting your time.'

'I have no intention of seducing you. I know you're holding out for true love, and I admire that. I just think you need a little help lowering your "Leave me alone" wards. You're very pretty, after all.'

Her cheeks coloured, and not just from exertion. 'I don't understand what you want,' she said. 'This feels like a seduction to me.'

Harry thought for a moment. 'You're right, it is. But not the way you're thinking. I can't talk while we're dancing, though—let me ask Ryan for a slow song.'

Still holding Daphne's hand, he found Ryan, who was dancing with Hermione near the stereo. 'I'm one step ahead of you, Snitchbottom. The next song's a slow one: "Sing," by Blur.'

'Perfect, cheers,' said Harry, not knowing what song that was. He led Daphne to an open spot on the dance floor, and when the song started he drew her close. 'People think seduction only means sex,' he said. 'But that's not all it is—not by a long shot.'

'Then what is it?' she asked, leaning into him.

'It's also bringing someone around to a new idea, or to a new way of being. It gets a bad reputation, since it can be used to manipulate people. That's what Voldemort did—he was a master seducer. But I don't want to manipulate anyone.'

She snorted derisively. 'You say that, but your hands are literally all over me.'

'No, they aren't. If we were snogging, my hands would be unstoppable, but I'm just holding you so we can dance. And I'm not pressed against you either.'

'You're right, and thanks for not making too big a spectacle of me. But you haven't explained what you're trying to bring me around to.'

'To the fact that you're alive,' he murmured into her ear, allowing his breath to warm her neck. 'We survived a war, and now we're free to live. But you're still on a high shelf. Which is fine, if that's what you want. But I'm not convinced it is.'

'I won't go to bed with you,' she said, not pulling away.

'You don't get it, that's not what I want. Half the pleasure of dating Lydia was introducing her to a new world, and watching her come to life. Meanwhile, you're waiting for tossers like Sylvan Burke to decide whether they're man enough to take someone else's surname.'

'He isn't,' said Daphne. 'He'll never be Head of House, but he's in line for his grandfather's Ministry post, which has been held by a Burke for generations.'

'He's a petty arsehole, and you're better off without him,' said Harry, recalling how Burke had tried to thwart his name change. 'You need someone with a broader perspective. Someone who mightn't have heard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but can show you a million things you haven't seen.'

'Muggle things?'

'Not necessarily. I showed Lydia aspects of wizarding life she'd never encountered before.'

'In your bedroom,' she scoffed.

'No, not exclusively. I took her to restaurants that weren't Dunnings or the other mausoleums she'd been to. I brought her to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes—Walburga asked her whether she'd started dosing me with anaphrodisiacs.'

Daphne sniggered. 'I can only imagine how that went. But where would I even start with what you're describing? I can't exactly put an advertisement in the Prophet saying I'm willing to date commoners. And wouldn't it just make me look desperate, or like I'm lowering my standards?'

'Did you see Lydia's new boyfriend?' he asked. 'Does it look like she's lowered her standards?'

'No, certainly not. Although I don't imagine there are many wizards like him running around.'

'Perhaps not. But getting back to your Prophet question, all I'd have to do is introduce you around. The hard part will be for you not to instantly rule people out, simply because they don't fit the mould.'

'But what about adventurers? How would I know they weren't just trying to use me?' She was looking over his shoulder, and he turned and saw Draco and Catherine in the rose garden.

'Good question,' said Harry. 'Trust your friends, maybe? And I don't see you rushing the way Draco is.'

'Maybe I should wait until I'm twenty-one,' she said wryly. 'I hear it's all the rage.'

The song ended, and he led her from the dance floor. 'Please don't let me pressure you into something you don't want. If you're happy with things as they are, by all means, keep at it. But if I learnt anything from the war it's that life is short, and we need to live it.'

'And I suppose you're partial to mixed marriages, being the product of one,' she mused. 'You wouldn't exist if your father hadn't married a Muggle-born.'

'Probably not. Anyway, thanks for dancing with me.'

'Thank you for asking. And yes, it is fun. Maybe I'll join Tracey after this.'

She left, and Harry just stood there a moment until Draco called him over. 'Potter! Come here!'

Harry could see at a glance that both Draco and Catherine had continued drinking. She didn't look drunk, since she still had her usual air of refinement, but she was more tolerant of Draco's physical affection than before. A lock of hair had escaped from her up-do, and he was twirling it with his finger.

'Were you really dancing with Daphne just now?' asked Draco scornfully. 'Did she lose a wager?'

'No, I just wanted to prove to her that Muggle dancing needn't lead to unrestrained sin.'

'If only,' said Draco, looking at Catherine. 'I'd have been the first one out there if it did.'

'You devil!' said Catherine, pushing him away but never removing her hand from his shoulder. 'I told you, we're waiting.'

'But Potter has these impossible guest rooms where up is down and so forth,' he pleaded. 'Can't we visit, just for a short while?'

'I know what your "short while" is. I won't fall for that again!'

'Oh yes you will,' he leered, and he kissed her neck for emphasis.

'Fetch me a drink,' she ordered. 'Citron pressé, and don't complain that it's Muggle, because you liked it too.'

'Yes, my love,' he said, rising. 'Potter, stay here and keep her safe from admirers. They'd have to be blind not to swarm her.'

Harry said he would, glad for the opportunity to observe her alone. He sat down and studied her expression, her eyes still fixed on Draco, and he saw only adoration.

But then Draco left, and her look of innocence disappeared. Not sexual innocence—Harry still suspected she was a virgin—but she looked more calculating than before. 'Draco's so protective,' she said. 'It's sweet, of course, but I think he's forgetting I have a wand of my own.'

'You're very dear to him,' said Harry. 'And he's seen wizards at their worst.'

'Yes, he's a survivor. Don't tell anyone, but I saw some of his scars today—only on top—and it really brought home what he's been through.'

'Er, did he tell you how he got those scars?' asked Harry sheepishly, knowing he'd caused them.

'No, he just said it was in battle, and that he nearly died. Do you know what happened?'

'It's not my story to tell. And those were dark times for both of us.'

'It's strange to think you were on opposite sides,' she said, leaning forwards. 'Although I'm almost sorry I never saw you duel, because you must have been a striking pair, firing curses at each other.'

'Believe me, I'm glad you never saw us duel. We were pitted against each other from day one, and I'm only grateful we got past it.'

She looked at him with growing interest, and her sparkling eyes matched her earrings. 'I think your destinies are intertwined,' she said. 'He's so fair, and you're so dark. Enemies almost from birth, but allies now. And cousins, as it turns out.' Her gaze grew more intense, and she said, 'Mother says you'll be the two most politically powerful wizards in Britain one day. You probably are already.'

Harry was unsure how to respond, and he was relieved when Draco returned with their drinks. 'Er, I kept her safe,' said Harry, standing up. 'Though I should admit no one tried to attack.'

Draco just stood there. He was studying Catherine, which made Harry worry he'd seen through her somehow. But then he said, 'Thanks, Potter. I'm sure it was a terrible hardship, sitting across from a beautiful witch like Catherine. But maybe Gemma Rees can console you—she's over by the bar.'

Oh dear, thought Harry, hoping Gemma had switched to soft drinks. But before he reached the bar, Alistair caught his eye. Harry walked towards him, noting that the vampire hadn't even needed to wave him over—a mere glance was sufficient.

'My dear Harry,' said Alistair, flanked by two thralls. His dress was remarkably similar to the one Sophie had worn to Penumbra on Monday, only it was red instead of white. 'Thank you for the opportunity to pay homage to your enchanting demoiselle,' he said, indicating his gown. 'And for the pleasure of witnessing your party, of course.'

'I'm glad you're here—that dress is fantastic,' said Harry, sitting opposite him. 'I'll have to tell Sophie about it next week.'

Alistair praised the decor and the overall ambiance. 'I can feel Light magic awakening around us. Nothing dramatic, but the seeds are beginning to sprout. And other awakenings are happening as well,' he said, indicating several demonstrative couples on the dance floor.

'That's what my parties are like,' said Harry. 'Don't say you weren't warned.'

'No, but perhaps you require a warning.' Leaning towards Harry, he said, 'A young woman over there has strong feelings for you. Not just desire or ambition, like other witches have, but a profound longing. Love, even—if that's what the unrequited version can be called.'

Harry turned and saw Gemma. 'How can you tell?' he asked, not doubting him.

'It's a predator instinct. Vampires can cast a glamour only their victim sees, if the victim's desire is strong enough. It facilitates luring them to their death.' Harry was alarmed, but Alistair laughed and said, 'I fed before coming here, and I have two willing sources. There's nothing to fear.' As if to prove his point, one of the thralls offered Alistair her neck, which he only kissed.

'That's my teammate Gemma,' said Harry soberly. 'My cousin Lisa pointed out the same thing. Should I talk to her tonight, or is it better to wait?'

Alistair raised one eyebrow. 'Are you really asking a vampire for relationship advice? If so, my answer would be, "Just stare at her until she quivers with ecstasy, then puncture her throat and steadily lap her blood. She'll fall into a sort of trance, at which point you pull away and tell her she's lovely but you're not interested because you just don't see her that way, and you never will. Conjure a handkerchief for her to cry in, but for Merlin's sake, don't give her a real one, because she'll treasure it as a keepsake, which can easily lead back to square one."' He looked at Harry archly and said, 'Does that help?'

'Er, maybe the bit about the handkerchief, but otherwise no.'

'I didn't think so,' said Alistair. 'If we're going to be friends you should know my limitations.'

Harry laughed, and after chatting a little longer he excused himself to check on Gemma. Her friend Ingrid had just returned to the dance floor, but Gemma was still drinking what looked like a citron pressé. 'Toffer!' she cried. 'Are you managing to have fun at your own party for once?'

'I am, thanks. How about you?'

'Ingrid and I just had a completely barmy conversation with Rita Skeeter. It's all off the record, 'cause I'm completely rat-arsed, but she wanted to know what it's like to go from total obscurity to spending every day with Harry Potter.'

'Er, what did you tell her?' asked Harry nervously.

'First off, I told her your name is Harry Potter-Black, because you're a bleeding lord, even though you claim lordships are bollocks. And that you're weirdly romantic, in spite of being a total manwhore, which you aren't really but I'm just taking the piss. I complained about how good a Seeker you are, since I'll never make starter on the Cannons, but that's all right because the Catapults are after me for when Isla Preston retires.'

Harry's eyes shot open. 'Did you just say the Catapults want to hire you?'

'Oops! I probably shouldn't have mentioned that, especially not to Rita. But I don't think she's very interested in Quidditch because she just kept asking about you. By the way, she has a major hard-on for you, in case you haven't noticed. She asked whether I've seen you in the locker room, and I said I haven't, and she seemed surprised you aren't more of an exhibitionist considering the underwear adverts. Which I didn't confirm or deny, but she clearly knows the whole story.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry. 'But what's this about the Catapults?'

'Right, they need a new reserve who can take over if Isla Preston gets pregnant again. Their current reserve is all right, but he's no Harry Toffer-Blatch, and they'd rather have someone who's proven they can beat you.'

'Er, this is kind of huge! Are you going to take the job?'

'I haven't decided yet. On the one hand, it's definitely my fastest path to starterhood, assuming Isla's husband hits the target. But Miles says I should stay on the Cannons and learn more of your tricks, 'cause between you and Owen I won't get better training anywhere else. He also says there's no harm waiting until Isla's actually up the duff, since I'll be their first pick regardless, or maybe some other team will snatch me up first.'

'But what do you want?' asked Harry.

Blushing, she said, 'Honestly, I don't know. I'd definitely miss playing for the Cannons, and Miles is probably right about the opportunity not going away. But I can think of some ... advantages to being on a different team.' She looked meaningfully at him, and Harry knew what she was thinking. It means we'd be free to date.

'Don't let me influence you,' he said, 'but I'd much rather you stay on the Cannons. You're a great friend, and if you switched teams I'd miss you terribly. Obviously we'd still see each other, but it wouldn't be the same.' Was that clear enough? he wondered.

All the colour drained from Gemma's face. 'Right,' she said, looking almost ill. 'I'd miss you too. That's a good point.'

Bugger, I was too harsh! thought Harry, feeling a little sick himself. 'Er, do you want to dance? I see a group of your friends over there—we could join them.'

'No, that's all right,' she said dully. 'You should probably get on with your evening.' She took her glass and hurried away.

Harry's shoulders slumped, and he felt unpleasantly sober. Merlin, I'm such an arsehole! he thought, although he wasn't sure what he should have done differently. At least this way I only looked clueless, and I didn't have to turn her down her directly.

He was reluctant to drink alone, knowing he'd be a target, but he spotted Laetitia and Eric in the rose garden and joined them. Draco and Catherine were gone, and Harry wondered whether Draco had successfully lured her into a guest room.

Lisa eventually appeared, and Harry waved her over. 'Laetitia, Eric, this is my cousin, Lisa Black.'

'Yes, we heard you on the radio!' said Laetitia. 'I hope you're enjoying getting to know Harry. He's an absolute dear, and if he weren't my baby brother I'd want him for myself.'

'He's terribly sweet,' she said, with a surprising lack of sarcasm. 'And he should definitely keep wearing eye makeup.'

'Not going to happen!' said Harry, for what felt like the umpteenth time.

'Hush, you don't get a vote,' said Lisa. 'How does this compare to what he wore in Paris?'

'Both times he looked great,' said Laetitia, 'but last time he was wearing a floral shirt and a foulard, as opposed to a custom-made dress. So I say tonight wins. But Eric, what do you think? Would you kiss him again?'

Eric looked appraisingly at Harry. 'Yeah, most likely. But all things equal I'd rather kiss my fiancée. No offence, Harry.'

'None taken.'

'But Lisa, what about you?' asked Laetitia. 'All England is wondering about you two.'

'We're cousins,' she said saucily.

'Fourth cousins,' said Eric. 'Even I don't think that's a problem. I say do it—he's good at it.'

'It's not his skill I'm worried about,' she said darkly.

'Then what's the problem?' asked Laetitia.

'It's whether we can stay friends or not. I'm not ready to settle down, and he certainly isn't, so it'll be awkward when things don't work out. Not to mention his notoriety ... I'm trying to establish my own name in the wizarding world, which is hard enough when your surname's Black. But to be Harry's girlfriend on top of that? Forget it.'

'So keep it a secret,' said Eric. 'You're what, nineteen? That's the perfect age for hooking up on the sly. Lord knows that's what I was doing at nineteen.'

Harry and Lisa exchanged glances, and he could tell she was considering it. 'I'm a virgin,' she blurted. 'And I'm not sure I'm ready to change that.'

'That's fine,' said Harry, who was pleasantly drunk again. 'There's plenty of other things we can do. But will you be upset if I take up with Sophie when she gets back?'

'I don't know, although I suppose it helps knowing in advance. And speaking of advance notice, shouldn't we at least kiss first? So far I'm only taking Eric's word for it, and the Sorceress witch.'

'By all means,' said Harry, with growing excitement. He was enjoying their cool negotiation, which went well with her haughty good looks.

'This isn't very private,' said Laetitia. 'Eric and I could maybe hide you, but I sort of doubt it.'

'No, not even your hair could hide someone like Harry,' said Eric affectionately.

Lisa was frowning. 'We can't just walk to your bedroom together—it's in plain sight. And besides, I want to dance some more.'

'Good point, so do I,' said Harry. 'But later you can leave through the upstairs fireplace, and instead of going home you'd just Floo to the kitchen, and I could Apparate you to the bedroom. We could even kiss first in the kitchen, to make sure the alchemy's there.'

'It's there,' said Laetitia. 'I can tell. The fun part will be dancing for the next hour without letting on. Harry, can you control yourself?'

'Excuse me, I just got through a two-week celibacy vow, which presented numerous challenges, as you may recall,' said Harry. But when he looked at Lisa again, he wasn't so sure. I've wanted this for nearly a month, he thought.

'Anticipation is good,' said Laetitia. 'Sophie said it was amazing on Sunday, even though you both nearly went out of your minds.'

Lisa was looking hungrily at him, and Harry felt the same way. 'Yes, let's do it,' said Lisa. 'We can get through an hour.'

Harry finished the last of his beer. 'So, Lisa, which of us should Obliviate them?' he asked, indicating Eric and Laetitia. 'This has to stay secret.'

Eric looked as if he thought Harry were serious, but the witches both laughed. 'Off with you,' said Laetitia. 'Maybe we'll join you on the dance floor.'

Harry stood up, and he resisted the urge to take Lisa's hand. Anticipation is good, he repeated inwardly, allowing himself to fully appreciate how attractive he found her.

They joined her friends on the dance floor, and they danced with Harry's friends as well. Various witches tried to intervene, and Harry didn't stop them, although he didn't encourage them either. He occasionally caught Lisa's eye, and they enjoyed several moments of powerful alchemy at a distance.

This was a great idea, he thought, admiring how her hair began to tumble from its flowered wreath. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and her rapid breath from dancing stimulated his imagination. We mightn't have intercourse, but I fully intend to see what she looks like when she's satisfied.

After half an hour, Harry excused himself to get a cold drink. He deliberately went without Lisa, not wanting to draw attention to her, but she dominated his thoughts as he walked to the bar. Which was why he was taken by surprise when Draco stormed at him.

'Damn you, Potter!' he cried, raising his hands to shove him. But instead of hitting Harry, he seemed to slam into an invisible wall, which prompted more cursing. 'What the bloody hell just happened?' he finally said, rubbing his palms.

Harry realised Kreacher's Light magic must have protected him. 'Light magic, you berk! But why did you just come after me?'

'Because you tried seducing Catherine, you bloody bastard!'

'What?!' exclaimed Harry. 'No, I didn't!'

'Don't lie to me! You're a fucking headcase, and you went after her because god forbid some witch not fancy you.'

A crowd had gathered, and Harry was starting to suspect what the real problem was. Draco saw through her, and he's blaming me, he thought. 'Er, Draco, maybe we should talk about this in private.'

'Don't "Draco" me! I never gave you permission to call me that! But really, it's typical you'd take yet another thing you weren't given. From me in particular!' Addressing the crowd, he said, 'Excuse me, everyone! What do you think of this house? By rights it should have been mine, and same with all the elves. Only Potter took it!'

'No, I didn't,' snapped Harry. 'Sirius made me his heir—not long before your mum got him killed, I might add—and there was a prophecy as well. So quit whinging about how I stole it from you!'

'A prophecy!' scoffed Draco. 'How convenient! I suppose that excuse worked for you once before, so why not try it again?'

Rita Skeeter had advanced to the front of the crowd, and Harry said, 'Rita, get out. This is between Malfoy and me.'

She looked as if he'd taken away her puppy, her wand, or both. 'Fine,' she spat. 'But I expect a fantastic interview this week. Understood?'

'Whatever. I'll talk about how Lockhart and I are mates now. Because that's how fucking weird my life has become.' Glaring at Draco, Harry said, 'Come on, we can talk about this downstairs.'

Draco was still seething, but he didn't argue. Fuck, where should I bring him? Harry wondered. My bedroom's the only room that's private, but he'll slag the living shit out of me. But inspiration struck when they got downstairs, and he led Draco towards a guest room.

'Just how long is this corridor?' asked Draco, craning his neck.

'It was longer when the Quidditch league was here last month,' said Harry, counting maybe twenty closed doors. 'I suspect word got out that the rooms get weirder the farther you go, so maybe people are stalling.'

They entered the first available room. 'What the fuck?' blurted Draco, expressing Harry's thoughts as well. It had the usual guest-room furnishings, along with a window and a sleeping portrait, but almost nothing was where it belonged. The bed and night table were on the wall, the wardrobe and bureau were on the ceiling, and the window was oddly folded into a corner. A table and two chairs were on another wall, opposite the bed, and only the portrait looked normal, with a wall sconce on either side.

'What's through there?' asked Draco, indicating a door in the middle of the carpet.

'The loo?' suggested Harry. 'And there's no way I'm going in there.' Instead he took a tentative step towards the table and chairs, since his platform boots were getting uncomfortable and he was keen to sit down. To his pleasant surprise, the room smoothly changed orientation, and he took a seat. Draco, however, continued pacing on what had originally been the floor.

'Let's start over,' said Harry. 'Why do you think I tried to seduce Catherine? Did she say something?'

'She didn't need to,' snapped Draco. 'But I could see from her expression you were using all your tricks on her. Poor thing, she's so innocent—she was probably just being polite.'

'I wasn't using any tricks on her! And why on earth would I try seducing your fiancée? I've bent over backwards to make amends with you—I'd have to be mad to stab you in the back like that!'

'You'd seduce her because you're desperate for attention! And even though you talk about making amends, you're still as competitive as ever. You've always been jealous, ever since we first met.'

'Me, jealous of you?' scoffed Harry. 'Yes, I can't tell you how many times I wished I were some Slytherin ponce with a pole up my arse! Or how often I looked at Ron and Hermione and wished they were Crabbe and Goyle.'

'Those are the exceptions, and you know it. You grew up with the worst kind of Muggles—they kept you in a cupboard, for fuck's sake. You'd never even heard of magic until you got your Hogwarts letter, whereas I grew up with it.'

'So far you're not describing anything Ron Weasley didn't have,' said Harry. 'Go on.'

'Ron Weasley? Don't make me laugh! With his used textbooks and hand-me-down robes, and his dumpy brood sow of a mum!'

'Leave his mum out of this!'

'Oh, shall we talk about your mum instead? You like to pretend you're an aristocrat, but everyone knows she was just some Mudblood slag.'

Harry felt rage rising within him, and it took all his self-control not to unleash his wand. He gritted his teeth and tried slowing his breath, to little avail.

'Is that why you tried seducing Catherine?' continued Draco. 'Because you want to believe all women are sluts, so you'll feel better about your mum?'

'I didn't try seducing Catherine!' said Harry, rising from his chair. 'And I swear to god I'll curse you if you mention my mum again.'

'But you're jealous of our relationship, aren't you? Admit it, Potter.'

'Believe me, Malfoy, I am definitely not jealous. I have enough gold diggers of my own, thank you very much!'

'She's not a gold digger!' shouted Draco, and Harry realised his mistake. He couldn't see Draco's expression, since they were standing on perpendicular surfaces, but he'd stopped pacing and was clutching his head. 'She's not, right?' he said feebly.

'I didn't think so until tonight,' said Harry, feeling compassion rather than anger. 'But everyone's right—her expression changes when you're gone. The adoration vanishes and she just looks ... cold.'

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'That's not what I saw when I came back with the drinks,' he said. 'I saw her looking at you the way she looks at me.'

Harry tried to recall their conversation. 'I think your destinies are intertwined,' she had said. 'He's so fair, and you're so dark ... Mother says you'll be the two most politically powerful wizards in Britain one day. You probably are already.' And she looked at him longingly, in a way that seemed to equate power with sex.

'I swear, I wasn't trying to seduce her.'

'Prove it,' said Draco imperiously.

Harry stared at him. 'Prove it? How? I don't exactly have a Pensieve lying around, and it's a bit late to knock up McGonagall.'

'Show me your memory. I'm a Legilimens, remember? And I'll know if you're faking it.'

'Er, I'm no expert, but those kinds of memories aren't crystal clear, like in a Pensieve.'

'So much the better,' said Draco. 'I'll see what you were thinking as well. If you're as innocent as you claim, you have nothing to fear.' He stepped onto Harry's wall and sat in the chair opposite him.

'Are you sure?' asked Harry, still standing. 'Wouldn't you rather believe I'm some manwhore who tried seducing your fiancée?'

Draco was silent for a long moment. 'I need to know. I love her, and I don't want our relationship poisoned by doubt.'

Harry sat down, and he closed his eyes to reconfigure his Occlumency shields. They were already at full strength, ever since Draco had started shouting at him on the roof, but Harry deliberately offered his memory of the exchange with Catherine. 'Go ahead,' he said.

He felt the memory slide out of him, starting with his own curiosity about how Catherine would behave without Draco present. Then came his instinctive attraction to her, and the sad realisation that she was almost certainly insincere. He relived her question about their duel at Hogwarts, and his shame at having cursed Draco with Dark magic. And finally her fascination with Harry's political power, superior even to Draco's.

Harry had never willingly submitted to Legilimency before, other than when Owen and Alistair had tested him, and no memories had escaped him then. He was therefore surprised by how intimate it felt, allowing Draco to watch the memory repeatedly and draw different elements into the foreground. He returned most often to the moment when Catherine's expression went from adoring to calculating.

After several minutes Draco withdrew, and Harry's Occlumency shields returned to normal. But Draco was silent, and Harry wasn't sure what to say.

He finally asked, 'Do you at least believe I didn't try to seduce her?'

'You're attracted to her,' said Draco accusingly.

'She's very pretty,' replied Harry. 'And I'm a nineteen year-old Light wizard.'

After another long silence, Draco said, 'When I left ... that's what people are talking about. That's why they say she's a gold digger.'

'Yeah, I think so.'

Draco stood up and started pacing again, on the same wall as the table and chairs. 'Have you ever met Blaise's mum?' Harry shook his head, and Draco said, 'I did once. It was the summer before third year, and Blaise invited me to spend the weekend. His mum had been widowed several months prior, and someone was courting her again.'

He pulled a silver flask from his pocket and took a sip. 'I didn't see her much that weekend, since the house-elves took care of us. But she brought us to meet her suitor one night. Looking back, I think she wanted to show me off, to prove she associated with families like mine.

'He was old—maybe fifty—and I thought it was weird that someone as gorgeous as Blaise's mum fancied him. Because oh my god, was she gorgeous! She was all done up for their date, and I couldn't stop staring. Blaise looked like he was ready to curse me, and I was just grateful I'd charmed my trousers. Meanwhile, she was looking at her suitor like he's everything she wants, and he's eating it up.

'But then he excused himself, probably to charm his own trousers, and her expression changed. She was still beautiful—more so, even—but cold as ice. She tidied her hair in the mirror, even though it was perfect already, and I could see how self-satisfied she was. And I felt contempt, not for her but for her suitor, for not realising he'd been deceived.'

Draco sat down and took another sip from his flask. 'I'm used to seeing people's expressions change—I'm a Slytherin after all. You may have noticed it in Mother, who definitely has a private and a public face. But I've never seen it change that way towards Father, even when they used to quarrel about the Dark Lord. She might have been angry—furious even—but never cold like that.'

He inclined the flask towards Harry. 'It's a single-malt, speaking of Blaise,' he said, and Harry accepted it. He didn't want to get any drunker, but he knew Draco would take a refusal personally, so he took a tiny sip.

'I thought Catherine was so innocent,' said Draco in a shaky voice. 'Here she was, with no experience of the world, and I swept her off her feet. I got to watch her open like a flower.'

Is he speaking literally or figuratively, wondered Harry. His expression must have revealed his thoughts, because Draco said, 'Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. I got her shirt off this afternoon, but she's still a virgin. Or at least I think she is. Oh god, what if that was a lie too?'

'I doubt it,' said Harry. 'For one thing, I don't get a sex vibe off her, and I saw the before-and-after with Lydia. Besides, Pansy and Daphne say she was brought up to marry a traditional pure-blood, so she's probably followed the rules.'

Draco sighed heavily. 'She's really the perfect Slytherin. Ambitious, cunning, with impeccable bloodlines. And by Salazar, so beautiful! When she tried on the earrings this afternoon, I nearly wept with joy that someone so perfect would soon be mine.'

Was that before or after you saw her breasts? Harry wondered, and he was glad Draco wasn't practising Legilimency just then. I could be dancing with Lisa right now, he thought distractedly.

'What are you going to do next?' asked Harry. 'And by the way, where is she?'

'She went home at a decent hour. I wanted her to stay, of course—ideally in one of these rooms—but she refused. As for what I'm doing next ...' He took another sip of whisky and looked at Harry. 'I have no bloody idea.'

Harry was puzzled. 'Do you still want to marry her?'

'Yes, desperately. But I can't, right? Or do you think she might change?'

'Er,' stalled Harry, not knowing what to say.

'Maybe this is a phase,' mused Draco. 'It makes sense, really, if she was brought up to marry well. Her mother probably trained her from birth to identify high-status wizards, but until now she's had to hedge her bets. Which is fortunate, or else she might have married the first wizard who showed interest. But now she's got me, and it'll take a while before she can let go of her training. It'll take time to realise she's safe, and that I'm not going anywhere.'

Draco sat up, his eyes blazing with excitement. 'Or she was testing me! Maybe she got scared I'd think she was unchaste, because she let me feel her up this afternoon. So she pretended she fancied you to see whether I trust her. Oh my god, that's it!'

Harry looked at him sceptically. 'Er, I'd love for that to be true, but it doesn't explain why her expression changed when you left. No offence.'

'Damn you, Potter!' cried Draco, slamming his fist on the table. 'Are you trying to break us up?' Harry didn't reply, and Draco said, 'Besides, we can't split up now—she'll be ruined. She'll just have to learn to love me.'

'Learn to love you?' said Harry in disbelief.

'Yes, naturally. Marriages used to be arranged all the time. I'll just have to win her over after we're married.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Is this because you're worried she'll be ruined, or because you still want her?'

'Of course I still want her! You of all people know what love is like!'

It's the power the Dark Lord knows not, thought Harry. 'I do know what it's like. And yes, there was a time when I would have had Ginny stay with me out of pity, if for no other reason. But trust me, it's much better to be with someone who actually wants you. Not that I've experienced that consistently, of course.'

'See!' cried Draco. 'Love is always a compromise! There's no such thing as a perfect, instant match on both sides. But I can have the woman of my dreams, and Catherine will quickly realise I'm exactly what she wants. And I am, if she's drawn to power and influence. You're just a flash in the cauldron, Potter, but I'm a Malfoy!'

'Potter-Black,' retorted Harry, hoping Draco might respond better to provocation, since reason wasn't working.

'Oh right, you were prophesied! Let me guess: "House Black shall be usurped by the sex-addicted son of a Mudblood." Am I right?'

'Actually, that's not far off,' said Harry. 'Except for the usurping bit—it said the family magic would choose me.'

'So you claim. Where did you hear it anyway?'

'One of the portraits told me—they all know about it.'

Draco gave Harry a supercilious look before turning to the sleeping portrait. 'Then I'm sure this one can provide all the details.' He stepped from the wall onto the carpet, avoiding the loo, and said, 'Excuse me? Sir? Do you know anything about a prophecy regarding your esteemed Head of House?'

The portrait—a wizard wearing a flouncing lace cravat and an elaborately curled wig—slowly opened his eyes. 'Who are you?' he asked Draco.

'I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa Black. And who are you?'

'I'm Cepheus Leo Black,' said the wizard imperiously. 'I lived from 1720 until 1805.'

'Then you must have known Banthora!' said Harry. 'How were you and she related?'

'Banthora?' scoffed the portrait. 'My spinster cousin? Why would anyone ask about her?'

Stupid fop, thought Harry. I bet he wore too much cologne. 'Banthora's brilliant, but that's not why we woke you: Are you familiar with the prophecy about the family magic choosing an heir from a lesser branch?'

Cepheus squinted, then raised a gaudy lorgnette to look at Harry. 'By Salazar, it's you! Why are you wearing tart armour? But never mind that—of course I know the prophecy. As do you, I imagine, seeing as you're the subject.'

'What does it say?' asked Draco impatiently.

The portrait cleared his throat and said, '"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will choose the scion of a lesser branch. Son of purity, son of sacrifice, his manhood will be of world renown. House Black will be reborn, greater than before."'

Draco made him repeat it, and he turned to Harry in disgust. 'Son of purity? That can't possibly be you!'

'My father was a pure-blood, remember?'

'But not your mother!'

'Son of sacrifice,' replied Harry. 'She gave her life to protect me.'

Draco was scowling. 'Your manhood isn't world-renowned. Particularly not tonight,' he said, indicating Harry's dress.

'Then what about the Sorceress article? Not to mention my underwear adverts. Sorry Draco, it refers to me. All the portraits say so.'

They both looked at Cepheus, who nodded. 'There's no doubt,' said the portrait dolefully. 'The family magic selected a half-blood Light wizard.'

A low growl emanated from Draco. 'Dammit, Potter! What is it with you and prophecies?'

Angry Seers, thought Harry. 'Buggered if I know,' he said, wondering when he might return to the roof. 'Are we done here?'

'Why, so you can get back to pulling? Don't let me stop you,' said Draco scornfully.

'Will you be all right? I'm sure some of your mates are still here, if you want company.'

'No, I'll leave,' said Draco. 'And I'm fine. I'll speak to Catherine's father tomorrow, and she and I can start planning the wedding. Poor thing—she probably thinks it's all too good to be true. But soon it'll sink in that that she'll be Catherine Malfoy,' he said grandly. 'And oh, I can't wait to take her shopping! Strictly speaking it's not appropriate until after we're married, but she'll need a wardrobe for our wedding tour. Do you suppose you could advance her the gold, as sponsor of House White? I'll repay you, of course.'

Ugh, he's in fantasyland, thought Harry. 'We can talk about it some other time,' he said. 'I should really get back to my guests.'

'Right, your "guests." We mustn't deprive them of your world-renowned manhood.'

They parted ways at the staircase. Where was I? thought Harry as he emerged onto the roof. It was mobbed, but the crowd made room for him, plainly curious about his fight with Malfoy.

'Are you all right?' asked Hermione, and Ron was close behind.

'Yeah, I'm fine. Between Light magic, goblin wards, and his wand, there was no way he could hurt me.'

'Blimey, that was something!' exclaimed Ron. 'Were you actually chatting up his girlfriend?'

'Of course he wasn't!' snapped Hermione, but then her expression changed. 'Right?'

'I'm glad you both think I'm an idiot,' said Harry. 'No, I wasn't chatting her up.'

'I told you so!' said Janet. 'He's got his eye on a different cousin entirely.' Harry tried to protest, but she said, 'Don't deny it, Snitchbottom. Tonight's all about Black family incest, and you should really get back to her.'

'We're barely related!' he blurted. 'Oh bugger, leave me alone.'

It took him a minute to find Lisa on the dance floor, and when he did, he was nearly overwhelmed by desire. She's done a piss-poor job at drag, he thought admiringly. She'd abandoned her outer robes, so the floral waistcoat was in plain view, and her hair had tumbled down in loose waves. She still wore the wreath, and she was dancing exuberantly, with closed eyes and parted lips.

Not wanting to call attention to her, Harry made his way to her slowly, trying not to stare. When the song ended, she opened her eyes, and a smile lit her face when she saw him. She looked at him questioningly, as if to say, 'Are we still on?' He nodded, resisting the urge to flood her with the Look.

A minute later she made a show of saying goodbye to her mates, and she spoke in Laetitia's ear before glancing at him again. Those will be my instructions, he thought, looking away.

'So long,' she told him on her way out. 'Thanks again for the robes—I'll have Plouche send them back this week.'

'Brilliant, thanks for coming,' he said, turning back to his friends.

Laetitia approached him a minute later. 'Meet her in the kitchen in a quarter hour,' she said. 'That should be long enough to throw people off the scent.'

He danced for several more songs, and his friends protected him from overzealous witches. 'I should look in on the elves,' he said before making his way to the stairs. He repeated his house-elf excuse whenever anyone tried to waylay him, and by the time he reached the ground floor there were few enough people that he was able to duck into an alcove and Disillusion himself.

He finally slipped into the kitchen and cancelled the charm. Lisa didn't see him, since she was looking out the back window, and for a moment Harry recalled Fiona. But then she turned around, and she looked so out of place that he almost laughed. This is Kreacher's domain, and I'm about to start snogging Lisa, he thought.

'Is this the part where we test our alchemy?' she murmured.

'It is,' said Harry, never taking his eyes off her. When he got within a few feet of her, he said, 'I've wanted this for a long time.'

'So have I,' she admitted. 'And I can't believe I'm telling you this.'

'I thought you were pretty the first time we met, but when we were at dinner with Alex and Rocky...'

'Yes, when you looked at me like that,' she said, drifting towards him. 'Why exactly did I turn you down? I can't remember.'

'Something about wanting to stay friends, I think.'

'But friends can hook up, right?'

'So I'm told,' he said, closing the gap between them. At first they kissed gently, but within moments she leaned into him and their kisses grew more urgent.

'Can we go upstairs?' she gasped during a break.

'God, yes,' he said, kissing her once more before taking her hand and Apparating to the bedroom. They stumbled to the bed, and Harry pulled off his platform boots and Lisa removed her shoes.

'Part of me wants to take it all off,' she said, 'but let's go slowly, if that's all right.'

'Slow is brilliant,' he said in a low voice. 'What can I do to make you comfortable?'

'Exactly what you're doing,' she said, and they didn't speak for a while longer. Lisa unfastened the top of Harry's dress, which he took as permission to remove her waistcoat and unbutton her shirt. 'Yes, this is perfect,' she said breathily. 'Why on earth did we wait?'

He was admiring her bra and its contents when they were startled by a loud crack. Lisa screamed, covering herself, and Harry turned to find a cowering Kreacher. 'What are you doing here!' he exclaimed in shock.

Kreacher was shielding his eyes. 'Kreacher is terribly sorry, but Master ordered Kreacher to tell him if he saw a crying witch. And Kreacher saw one, in the owlery.'

'Er, thank you,' said Harry, keen for Kreacher to leave. 'That was well done, but please don't interrupt me anymore.'

'Who is it?' asked Lisa. 'Is she all right?'

Bugger, I'm supposed to care about her wellbeing, Harry realised belatedly.

'It's Master's friend Gemma, who lives in a house unfit for a wizard,' announced Kreacher, still covering his eyes.

'And she's all alone?' said Harry, dreading the answer.

'Yes, Master! Should Kreacher bring her here?'

'No!' cried Lisa and Harry simultaneously. 'Thank you, Kreacher,' said Harry. 'You may go now. And please don't interrupt me again.'

Kreacher disappeared with a loud crack, and Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 'I need to go to her, right?' he said.

Lisa nodded. 'I'm afraid so. But perhaps you can find one of her mates to help her.'

'Maybe, but I'm pretty sure I know what the problem is.' As he refastened his dress, he told her about his conversation with Gemma on the roof. 'I feel terrible, but I don't how else I should have handled it.'

'No, that was the right answer. But there's no good way to hear it.'

Harry kissed her briefly. 'Do you mind waiting? I'm so sorry.'

Lisa said she was fine, and Harry cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm before slipping into the corridor. It was longer than before, and he saw a couple snogging outside a door. Get a room, he thought irritably as he hurried downstairs towards the owlery.

To get there he had to pass through the library, which was still full of guests, including a demonstrative couple in an armchair. But Harry went unnoticed thanks to the charm, which he cancelled at the far end of the room. Taking a deep breath, he quietly opened the door leading outside.

Lysander was absent—probably hunting—and the two jackdaws were asleep. Gemma, however, was seated on the hard tile floor, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her knees. Apparently she didn't hear him through her sobs, because she didn't look up. 'Er, Gemma,' said Harry gently, not wanting to startle her.

It didn't work, because she jerked upright. 'Oh my god, why are you here?' she choked, turning away. 'Did Kreacher rat on me? I told him not to tell you!'

'Don't blame him—I told him to tell me if he saw someone crying alone.'

'Of course you did,' she sighed. 'How many of us have there been?'

'Never mind that. What's the matter? Can I help?'

'No, you can't help,' said Gemma, still looking away. 'It's my own stupid fault, and I'll just have to deal with it.'

Harry's heart ached for her, but he wasn't sure what to do. At least with Fiona I wasn't the actual problem. 'I can't just leave you here. Is it all right if I sit down for a few minutes?'

'No, you'll dirty your dress. Although I've already dirtied your robes,' she said, looking down at them.

'It doesn't matter,' he said, sitting next to her.

'No, I'm sure one of your five house-elves can clean them. Muggle-born brain strikes again.' She was crying softly, and Harry tentatively put his arm around her shoulders.

'I'm sorry,' he began, and her sobs recommenced.

He held her as she cried. 'Did you work it out yourself, or does everyone know?' she asked.

'Alistair told me—apparently vampires have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. And Lisa suspected it as well. But no one else said a word. Not even Hermione, and she notices everything.'

'I feel so stupid,' said Gemma. 'Why did I ever think you might fancy someone like me?'

'Don't say that! I think you're brilliant!'

'Right, but I'm not your type. You said it yourself, during that match when you taunted me.'

'I was being deliberately cruel! I also said Owen wanted to sack you, which was a bald-faced lie!'

'But I'm not your type, am I? And why would I be, when you're literally dating a supermodel.'

Did we ever establish that Sophie's a supermodel? he wondered. 'Please don't think like that,' he said. 'I just see you as a friend—that's all.'

'But weren't you friends with Ginny for years before dating her?'

This time Harry sighed. 'I was, but we were still kids, and I was a different person back then,' he said, thinking of the Horcrux. 'But please don't take it personally.'

'How can I not take it personally? This is literally the most personal kind of rejection, when I fancy you and you don't fancy me back. And what's worse is you obviously don't want to hurt me, and I know you enjoy my company. So it must be that I'm not pretty enough,' said Gemma sadly. 'Sorry, "not your type," but we both know what that is.'

Harry didn't know what to say, so he conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her. 'I don't know what governs alchemy,' he finally said. 'I do think you're pretty—I clearly remember thinking it earlier tonight, when Lodie did your hair. And what about Hermione? I've never fancied her, but you can't say she's not pretty enough.'

Gemma was silent, as if trying to find the flaw in his logic. 'Why didn't you ever fancy Hermione? You were alone in a tent with her for weeks, or maybe months.'

'She's like a sister to me,' he said. 'She always has been. And besides, she liked Ron.'

'I can't picture them together at all,' said Gemma. 'Love is weird.'

'It is. But romance isn't the only type of love. And I do love you,' said Harry, squeezing her shoulder.

'Maybe, but not the way I want. God, I'm so stupid. You're the world's most famous wizard—"Desirable Number One"—and I'm just Gemma sodding Rees.'

'Stop thinking like that! I'm serious! I wish you were more confident, because you're completely amazing.'

'Not like you are,' she said. 'You have no idea what you're like, because you can't see yourself. I don't know if it's the Light magic or what, but it's like the whole room reconfigures around you.'

'That's just fame. You haven't been in many Muggle settings with me, but believe me, I'm nobody there. I only get special treatment if I'm well dressed or trot out my made-up name.'

She sniggered. 'Lord Harry Potter-Black. But that's another thing—you're the wizarding elite, and I'm just a Muggle-born from a no-name school. And don't say lordships are bollocks, because we both know that isn't true.'

Harry didn't think she'd appreciate being told she sounded like Gilstrap. 'I know it's not entirely true. But if you're going to list off things about yourself, include the part where you're a league Seeker and teams are fighting over who gets to hire you. And unlike me, you got there with nothing but talent and hard work. You waited tables to pay for your first racing broom, while I just had one handed to me when I was eleven.'

She shook her head and started crying again. 'You still don't get it, Toffer. The fact that things got handed to you proves how special you are. And now, with Light magic, you're even farther out of my league.'

'There is no league,' he argued. 'Anyone can do Light magic, you just need to stumble into it somehow. Or try—Davina says there are methods, although they can take a while.'

'I was hoping to catch it from you,' she admitted. 'I read in that article about how it's sexually transmissible, and I hoped ...' She trailed off into sobs.

Harry hadn't forgotten about Lisa; his body still ached for her, and the memory of seeing her shirt off kept invading his thoughts. But he couldn't leave Gemma, not while her heart was breaking. He tried drawing on the strength he'd felt while comforting Fiona, and he was momentarily overwhelmed by his feelings for the grieving widow.

Too many witches, he thought, almost dizzy with emotion. His Light magic surged, and for a moment he imagined Fiona was next to him rather than his diminutive teammate.

Gemma leaned into him, and her sobs pulled him back to the present. She's hurting because of me. Because I took advantage of her friendship, especially during my celibacy vow. 'Please don't feel like this is your fault,' he said. 'I'm still learning how to act like a normal person, and clearly I screwed up and misled you.'

'You didn't mislead me—I misled myself. And I know you'd never break the rule about fraternisation. I just hoped that if I were on a different team, you might see me in a new light, which was completely daft considering you normally date supermodels and pure-blood princesses. Or probably Lisa Black next ... you know she fancies you, right? God, why did I think I could compete with her?'

'Gemma, stop putting yourself down! And seriously, you're better off without me. There's a reason I keep getting dumped ... I'm a black hole of emotional need, thanks to dead-mum trauma and a bunch of Voldemort crap that's classified. Which probably explains why Hermione was never interested, since she knows how fucked up I am.'

Gemma was crying quietly again. 'Then why do I want you so much? I know what a fuck-up you are. I know you cheated on Lydia, and that Sophie's scared you'll do the same thing. I know you get propositioned every day of the week, and it'll get a thousand times worse when your adverts come out, and you're a Light wizard so you can't help yourself ...'

Harry decided this wasn't a good time to point out that Davina had praised his restraint. 'Gemma, you deserve someone better than me. You deserve a wizard who's not a total headcase, and who you're not going to worry is going to cheat on you all the time. And besides, you ought to be the celebrity in the couple. You're going to be a starting Seeker, for Merlin's sake!'

She took a deep breath. 'I am, aren't I? That is kind of huge.' Harry couldn't see her face—she was still hiding it—but he could tell from her voice that she was smiling.

'Do you want to go home? Or should I find one of your mates?'

She finally turned to face him. 'Is that your way of saying, "Am I free to resume pulling now?"' she asked, looking at him accusingly through puffy eyes.

No, I was done pulling, he thought. 'Er ...' he began, but she laughed.

'Go on, Toffer. And yeah, I should go home, although I might just sit inside your bookcase a little longer. That's how Kreacher spotted me, by the way. I was hiding in there, but then a couple started snogging a few feet away and that was the last thing I wanted to hear, so I came outside.'

'I'm glad Kreacher told me. I know it's not exactly what you want, but your friendship means a lot to me.'

She grimaced and said, 'Spare me the friendship talk, would you? And do me a favour and refrain from pulling in the library.'

He helped her to her feet and gave her a hug, which was difficult from atop four-inch heels . 'I'm almost glad I'm not actually this tall,' he said. 'At least five-foot seven is conveniently in the middle.'

'Maybe the next wizard I fall for will be taller,' she mused. 'That's usually my type.'

Harry immediately dismissed the idea of introducing her to Percy Weasley, and after Disillusioning themselves they went inside—Gemma to the bookcase and Harry to the stairs. But he paused in an alcove before returning to his bedroom.

I'm a bloody menace, he thought. I trampled Gemma's feelings without even realising it. I told Lydia I loved her when we were just playing house, and I used the Look tonight on Helena. Worse yet, I've decided to make a go of it with Fiona, but not before getting my rocks off with Lisa. No wonder Owen doesn't want me anywhere near her.

He knew he should return to the bedroom, but he was tempted to get a drink first. I wonder if Draco's still here, he thought, but that could only be a disaster. No, he needed to speak frankly with Lisa, and call it a night. It wasn't even that late, but Harry knew he'd only get into more mischief on the roof. I should probably bring back Banthora.

Harry waited until no one was watching before slipping through his bedroom door. Lisa was on the bed reading and looked confused until he cancelled his Disillusionment. 'Harry!' she said, sitting up. 'Is Gemma all right?'

'Yes,' he said dully, not looking forward to their conversation. 'But I hope you weren't too bored.'

She held up his copy of Catcher in the Rye. 'It was either this or Wandlore, which I'd already read. But this isn't bad—did your tutor recommend it?'

'He did,' said Harry, approaching her. Lisa set down the book and smiled suggestively at him, but her smile faded when he sat at the foot of the bed.

'Is something wrong?' she asked.

Harry sighed. 'I feel like a walking disaster. I was oblivious to Gemma's feelings for me, when in hindsight it should have been dead obvious. And I've hurt other witches as well—not to mention the Muggle I deceived just so I wouldn't have to Obliviate her. Meanwhile, Sophie's giving me a wide berth because she's afraid I'll cheat on her, and who can blame her?'

Lisa seemed to process what he was saying. 'Are you afraid you'll hurt me?'

'Yeah. But not because of Sophie. There's another witch I like ... I don't think you've met her. Although I should probably stay clear, because she's a war widow with a little boy, and Owen is convinced I'll hurt her as well.'

She was silent a moment. 'What do you want?'

His heart sank when he realised the answer. 'I want what I had with Ginny. What I thought we had, anyway. God help me, I want what Draco thinks he has with Catherine White. No wonder he thinks I'm jealous.'

'Is that why he attacked you?'

'It's a long story, but yeah, in part. What does it say about me that Draco Malfoy understands me so well?'

After another silence, Lisa said, 'And where do I fit in all this?'

He sighed again. 'I like you. Really, I do. But when I'm with Fiona ... there's this connection. I think it's because we've both known loss. I found her in the back garden crying tonight, and I mostly just listened, but I felt like I really had something to offer her. And that she might understand me as well.'

Lisa looked downcast, and Harry was afraid she might cry, but fortunately she didn't. Three crying witches was plenty, he thought. 'I suppose I should be grateful I can't relate,' she said. 'Losing my grandmum was hard, but something tells me it's not the same kind of loss.'

'I couldn't say,' replied Harry. 'One thing I've learnt is you never know which one will hit you the hardest. But I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to hurt you too.'

'I'll live,' she said, setting his book on the night table. 'I assume this means I should go? Or have I misread you?'

'No, but I almost wish you would. My bad reputation isn't undeserved, and I could probably be persuaded.'

'Then I should go,' she said, standing up. 'You obviously care about Fiona, and I'll feel bad if I get in the way.'

'Are you upset with me?' he asked, trying not to give her the Look.

'No, just disappointed. Eric was right about you, after all.'

'You're pretty good yourself,' he said with a half-smile. 'And I suspect there are still plenty of takers on the roof, if you're interested. I have infinite guest rooms, you know.'

'No thanks,' she said, tying her shoes. 'My mates think I went home, remember? I'll just Disillusion myself and leave.'

He took her hand. 'I'm sorry ... I really didn't mean to mislead you.'

Sighing, she said, 'This is one of those cases where it would have been easier if you'd just been a scoundrel. I'd have had my fun, and then I'd be able to enjoy righteous indignation afterwards. But instead I'm seeing what I'm missing and ... he's lovely.'

They didn't hug goodbye, and after Disillusioning herself she left. Did I just make a huge mistake? he wondered.

But he knew he hadn't. His thoughts returned to Fiona, undoubtedly alone in her bed at home, and he allowed himself to hope she was thinking of him as well.