Laetitia's letter arrived just as Harry was leaving for lunch. 'Sorry, I can't join you,' he told his teammates after reading it. 'I need to ring Sophie, and it'll be too late in Japan if I wait until this evening.'

'Fine,' huffed Janet. 'But I'm telling Candice you're dumping your French model for some mystery woman.'

'I'm not dumping her. I just think it's wrong to lead her on when I like someone else.'

'Someone you refuse to identify,' scowled Janet.

'Because I don't know if she's interested,' snapped Harry, who was feeling anxious about talking to Sophie.

'Of course she's interested! No one who read Sorceress is going to turn you down.'

But Harry was unconvinced; the more he thought about Fiona, the more he worried she'd never want a relationship with him. I've made a spectacle of myself ever since I joined the Cannons, and it'll only get worse when my adverts come out. I'm a bloody train wreck, and the last thing she needs in her life is an attention-seeking manwhore.

Laetitia had instructed him to come to her modelling agency, so he travelled there by Floo. 'Oh!' said the receptionist when she saw him, and her cheeks flushed becomingly. 'How may I help you?'

Harry's inner scoundrel had plenty of ideas, since the receptionist looked like a model herself. But he remembered he was there to break up with Sophie, so he just asked to see Laetitia.

She emerged a minute later with an older witch, who seemed very keen to meet him. After introducing herself, she said, 'I know you're busy with Quidditch, but I want to talk to you as soon as the season ends.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, 'but I don't anticipate taking any other jobs.'

'You should reconsider. I saw your photos with Sophie, and you could sell umbrellas to a merman. But never mind—I understand you're here to use the phone.'

'I am, if that's all right.'

'Of course it is. It's the least I can do, with all the work Sophie's getting. Her next stop is Hong Kong, and they want her in Italy as well. And really, just say the word if you want more work overseas—everyone's asking about you.'

'He heard you the first time,' said Laetitia sweetly. 'Harry, follow me.' She led him to an office and closed the door. 'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'To a modelling agent, you're a walking bag of Galleons.'

'I'm getting used to it,' he sighed. 'And thanks for writing back so quickly. Until I talk to Sophie, I'll feel like I'm deceiving her or something.'

'It's Lisa Black, right?'

'Er, no,' he said sheepishly. 'She's lovely, but I cut our evening short because I realised there's someone else I like, and I want to go about things properly.'

'A real relationship, you mean?'

He nodded. 'I don't know if she'll be interested, but it feels wrong to string Sophie and Lisa along while I find out.'

Laetitia looked surprised and said, 'You're a better person than I was at your age. I strung men along right and left.'

'Believe me, I'm bad enough. It's a miracle my reputation isn't worse than it already is.' He indicated the telephone and said, 'Any advice on what I should say?'

Laetitia gave him pointers on handling Sophie, along with the phone number. 'The hotel clerk will speak English, so just ask for her room.'

Sighing, he picked up the phone and began to dial. I've never made a long-distance phone call, he realised, and after several seconds it started to ring. The ring sounded foreign, but the voice that answered was remarkably clear, and after a short string of Japanese the clerk abruptly said, 'Hi.'

'Er, hi,' said Harry, a bit startled. 'May I please speak with a guest named Sophie Tavernier?'

'Yes, of course,' said the clerk in perfect English. 'Just a moment while I connect you.'

After another foreign-sounding ring tone, Sophie picked up and said, 'Allô, oui?'

'Sophie, it's me, Harry.'

'Harry!' she said affectionately, and he winced. I'm such an arsehole, he thought. 'What a surprise! How are you?'

'Er, I'm well. How are you doing? How's Japan?'

'It is very amusing. I had a photo shoot today with four male models, and they all had their eyes charmed green and a scar on their forehead. You will laugh when you see it.'

'Are you serious?'

'Yes, and everyone asks me about you. There is a popular comic book about an English schoolboy who looks like you and fights Dark wizards, only his name is Lord Davy Gryffindor and he has a red-haired servant his age named Bob Weedy.'

'A red-haired servant? I hope Ron never finds out about this!'

'And Lord Davy's best friend is a girl named Hortensia, and she is secretly in love with him.'

'Oh my god, that's even worse,' blurted Harry. 'And you're saying this is popular?'

'Yes, very popular. I will show you. But how are you, mon cher? How was your party?'

'It was good—I'm sorry you missed it.'

'Did you kiss someone like I told you?'

'Er, yeah. But we didn't sleep together.'

'La pauvre,' said Sophie. 'Is that why you are calling me?'

Laetitia was glaring at him, and he knew he couldn't keep putting it off. 'Not exactly.' He took a deep breath and said, 'There's someone else I fancy.'

Silence on the other end of the line. 'Is it the witch from your party?' she asked.

'No. I mean yes, she was at my party, but I didn't kiss her.' After a pause he said, 'I've liked her for a while, actually, but I realised on Saturday I want to give it a shot. I'm so sorry.'

It was hard to gauge her reaction over the phone, but he thought he heard her sigh. 'You have done nothing wrong, mon cher. There is no need to apologise.'

'It's just ... I like you too. And I don't want to hurt you.' Laetitia shook her head rapidly and motioned for him to stop.

'You have been honest,' said Sophie, her voice quavering. 'It is lies that hurt me.'

'I'm so sorry,' he repeated. 'I hope we can stay friends.'

By this point, Laetitia was threatening to disconnect the call, but Sophie said, 'Yes, of course. And I will see you in America, when we promote the product together.'

Because that won't be awkward at all, thought Harry. 'Yes, I'd like that,' he said. Laetitia was still glaring at him and he added, 'Er, I should go. I'm on my lunch break right now.'

Sophie actually chuckled and said, 'I'm sure you are very hungry. Go and eat your shepherd pie.'

It's cottage pie, he thought sadly, and they said goodbye. After hanging up, he sighed heavily. 'At least that's over with,' he said.

'It sounds like she took it all right,' said Laetitia.

'She wasn't thrilled—I could hear it in her voice.'

'Of course she wasn't. But you treated her with respect, unlike her old boyfriend.'

Harry knew she was right, but he was still forlorn when they arrived at a Muggle restaurant, so Laetitia pressed him for details about Fiona. Knowing she wouldn't repeat them, he babbled about her at length, and Laetitia couldn't help laughing.

'You're positively lovesick!' she exclaimed.

'I know, right? I don't think I've ever been like this. Obviously I was crazy about Ginny, but that was different somehow, probably because of the war. And I fell hard for Helena, but that was only after we started seeing each other.'

'The thrill of the chase,' said Laetitia. 'You've never really had that before.'

'Not unless you count Cho Chang, my first girlfriend back at Hogwarts. But I never talked to my friends about her, and it all fell apart anyway. She was still hung up on her old boyfriend, who was killed by Voldemort, and I was dealing with Dolores Umbridge and a million other things,' he said, thinking of Occlumency lessons and his constant visions from the Department of Mysteries.

Laetitia looked at him with compassion. 'Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry you went through all that. On top of everything else you endured, you were denied the ordinary rites of adolescence. No wonder you're like this now.'

'Sex-mad?' he said sheepishly.

'No ... incurably romantic. You couldn't express this side of yourself while Voldemort was still out there. But this is your true nature, I suspect, and it was stifled by circumstance.'

Harry paused to consider it. 'My dad was romantic,' he mused aloud. 'He fell in love with my mum early on, only she wasn't interested because he was an arrogant git. But apparently he grew out of it.'

'And you have Light magic,' she said tenderly. 'Mark my words, you're going to sweep Fiona completely off her feet.'

'I hope so. I don't know if this is healthy or not, but I have an overwhelming desire to wrap my arms around her and relieve her pain. Sitting with her in the back garden and comforting her was unbelievably fulfilling. And I know this sounds arrogant, but I ... I felt like I was put on earth to help her.'

Laetitia studied him for a moment. 'You were prophesied to save Britain—I think you're allowed to imagine you were meant to heal someone's grief. And honestly, that's what love feels like ... like you were made for each other.'

Harry's heart swelled at her words, and he felt an enormous wish to satisfy Fiona's emotional needs. And for her to satisfy mine, he thought. 'But how do I not scare her off?' he asked. 'We're supposed to have lunch tomorrow, and it'll take all my self-control not to sweep her off her feet one way or another.'

'So sweep her off her feet,' said Laetitia. 'She might dismiss it at first and assume you're just flirting. And she might need time before she can reciprocate. But unless she finds you repellent, which I doubt, I suspect she'll appreciate your enthusiasm.'

Harry was once again flooded with ideas for expressing his feelings, many of which involved flowers. 'That sounds fantastic,' he said. 'But what about her privacy? If I send her flowers at work, for example, word will almost certainly get out. And that's not fair to her.'

'Then be more discreet. And, frankly, more original. Everyone knows you have a florist, and it doesn't take much effort to have them deliver five Galleons worth of flowers, particularly if you ask Kreacher to do it. But if you write her a little note, or send her something from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that'll make her smile, she'll appreciate it far more. And I'm speaking from experience, having received more than my share of flower arrangements.'

But flowers are my trademark, thought Harry petulantly. Laetitia must have read his expression, because she laughed and said, 'You can send her flowers later, once she's ready to go public. By all means, go overboard when the time comes! But trust me, she'll appreciate small gestures that demonstrate some effort and respect her boundaries.'

All afternoon he thought of romantic gestures that wouldn't bring her unwanted attention, and after practice he stopped at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for inspiration. But he forgot about the broadcast, which meant the shop was already crowded, and he attracted far more attention than he wanted.

'Look, it's Potter!' cried a fan, and everyone cheered. 'Does this mean you're doing the broadcast after all?' someone asked.

'No, I'm sorry. I'm just here shopping—I have some presents to buy.'

George greeted him and ensured he got a wide berth. 'What are you looking for?' he asked quietly.

'Little gifts,' whispered Harry. 'Romantic, but not overwhelmingly so. And things a small child might enjoy.'

'Colour me intrigued,' said George. 'Dare I ask who your next target is?'

'You can ask but I won't answer. And she mightn't even be interested.'

'Nonsense! A steady stream of delights from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will melt even the iciest heart. And if that doesn't work, send her a bottle of wine and a copy of Sorceress,' said George, winking. 'Which reminds me, we've had a customer request you should know about.'

'Oh?'

'You remember our Patented Daydream Charms, right?' Harry nodded, and George said, 'As you may recall, we don't sell them to customers under the age of sixteen.'

'Right,' said Harry, with a sense of foreboding.

'No small number of customers have requested a Harry Potter-themed daydream. And before you object, it wouldn't be pornographic. Well, not from our side, but the charm works with the witch or wizard's subconscious and creates an immersive experience. All we do is supply a scenario.'

'A scenario?'

George poised his hands theatrically, as if to set a scene. 'It's a busy afternoon on Diagon Alley, and she has errands to run. Well, he or she, but I'll keep it simple. She pops into Gringotts to withdraw some gold, and there's Harry Potter-Black—dashing as always in robes and flowers—returning from his vault.'

Harry was already shaking his head, but George was undeterred. 'He sees her, and he immediately straightens his necktie and runs a hand through his hair. "Excuse me, miss, but I think you dropped this," he says, handing her a handkerchief. "No, I didn't," she replies, noting the Slytherin crest, and he smiles sheepishly. "Perhaps not, but I just had to talk to you. You're beautiful, you know," he says, and he does that thing you do with your eyes when you're trying to get into someone's knickers.'

'Oi!' cried Harry, mortified.

'Come off it—you used to date my sister, remember? Anyway, conversation ensues, and he winds up accompanying her on her errands. This leads, of course, to a tailor's shop—we're envisioning a tie-in with Benedict Thimble—and she tries on something formal. And Daydream Harry reveals a jewellery box from his vault and insists she open it. Depending on her taste, it'll be a necklace or earrings—or a tie pin for a bloke—and he says, 'It suits you perfectly.' And then it's up to her whether they nip into the dressing room or go out on the town, and—'

'Absolutely not,' said Harry. 'I'm sorry, but I have my limits.'

'I suspected as much. But people request it all the time, so I had to ask.'

Frowning, Harry said, 'Could someone produce one without my consent?'

'No, they'd need a healthy dose of your magic to reproduce you like that. And it's patented, so we can stop anyone from selling a Daydream Charm using a lookalike. In England, anyway.'

Harry had a sinking feeling that Japanese or American wizards might produce a lookalike charm, and he wondered if he needed to talk to a solicitor about safeguarding his image overseas. Although they could just call me 'Lord Davy Gryffindor' and get away with it, he thought with dismay.

He dropped the subject, and George helped him select a variety of small gifts; at first he refused payment, but Harry talked him into selling them at cost. Next he went to Sugarplum's Sweets Shop and bought several confections, but he refrained from buying Fiona's son a Chocolate Frog lest it contain his own card. And finally he stopped at his florist and bought a small jasmine plant, remembering that jasmine flowers were her favourite. There's nothing wrong with bringing her a plant, right?

After returning home, he ate dinner and promptly went to the Dapperling Tea Shop for his interview with Rita Skeeter. He was dreading it, since he was more worried than ever about overexposure, and he was determined not to let her bully him into revealing too much. You still have the upper hand, he told himself, and his Occlumency shields rose automatically as he stepped into the well-lit bar.

'I'm here to see Rita,' he told the host, peering to see if she was at her usual table. She wasn't, and the host directed him to a private room, where Rita was waiting.

'Harry, darling,' she said, rising to greet him. Before he could stop her, she air-kissed him extravagantly and said, 'I'm delighted you're here. I have any number of ideas for our next collaboration. And those robes are divine—I'll send for my photographer as soon as we're ready.'

'Right, about that,' said Harry, sitting down. 'I know I promised you an interview, and I'll keep my word, but I'd like to revisit our discussion about overexposure. I'm very worried about it.'

'Darling, relax—you can keep your clothes on.' Harry glared at her, and she said, 'Just a joke. Of course we can discuss it. But would you like a drink first?'

'No, thanks,' he said, conjuring a glass and filling it with water. 'So, do you think I'm becoming overexposed?'

'For the most part, no. People still can't get enough of you, and the Prophet hasn't had a single cancellation on your account. And the foreign market is absolutely voracious—get ready for an exciting winter. But there's always the risk of a backlash, and I'd hate to see that happen.'

'As would I,' said Harry, recalling the previous backlashes he'd faced. 'So, what do you propose to write about?'

'The Black family prophecy,' she declared, but Harry shook his head.

'That's nobody's business, except within the family,' he said.

'Darling, everyone knows. If you were on the radio tonight, I'm sure it would be Lee and George's first question.'

'You're probably right, but that doesn't mean I want an article about it. It would look like I was trying to defend my legitimacy as Head of House, which I have no interest in doing.'

She raised one eyebrow and said, 'You did just that on Saturday night, when Draco Malfoy accused you of usurping.'

'Again, that was between us, and I had no intention of announcing it.'

Rita was clearly displeased but moved on. 'What about your relationship with Malfoy?' she asked. 'I've steered clear, but I know our readers would be fascinated.'

'There's no way he'd agree to it, and I wouldn't either. We're friends, more or less, and I don't want to jeopardise that, considering everything that's riding on it.'

'Yes, politically,' said Rita, nodding. 'What about your future in politics? Shall we plant the seeds for it now?'

'Other than the Wizengamot, I have no intention of going into politics or working for the Ministry. It was never a good fit.'

She sighed heavily. 'That's not interesting. But perhaps we can return to everyone's favourite topic: your sex life. When will Sophie be back?'

'She's not coming back. We've parted amicably.'

Rita leaned forwards. 'Now we're talking! Harry Potter-Black is on the prowl ... how can I help?'

'How can you help?' he said, bewildered. 'You can't.'

'Oh yes, I can. Just tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen.'

There's no way I'm telling her about Fiona, he thought. 'I highly doubt that.'

She held up an invisible newspaper and said, '"The Scoundrel With The Heart of Gold." Or, "Britain's Most Romantic Wizard." Or even, "The Boy Who Loved."' Harry looked at her sceptically and she said, 'Those are just off the top of my head. I'm sure I could come up with something better.'

'No. I really don't want you interfering with my love life.'

'Or we could go the opposite route,' she continued, 'and warn the witches you'll break their hearts. Like with Gemma Rees. You know about that, right?'

Harry stiffened. 'Is that a threat?' he asked.

'Darling, no! I'd never humiliate a young witch like that, particularly when she's just a reserve.'

The implication was clear, and Harry resolved to tell Gemma to sign a contract with Rita as soon as she made starter. 'You know I'll never agree to an article about the hearts I may have broken, nor anything else you've suggested,' he said coolly. 'So stop beating about the bush and tell me what you really want to write about.'

Her eyes gleamed. 'I do love your new incarnation. You're like a panther, ready to strike, and all England quivers in anticipation.' She took a sip of her drink and said, 'Gilderoy Lockhart. You know I'm writing his memoir, right?'

'Yes, he told me last week.'

'He said you've reached a truce, and that you approved his plan to reinvent himself as a self-help guru.'

'"Approve" is a strong word, but as long as he doesn't tell lies I won't come after him.'

'What about your rivalry?' she asked. 'Other than a few Quidditch players, he's the only one who can compete when it comes to witches. Admittedly he's a bit down on his luck right now, but when I'm done with him he'll be back on top. Next to you, that is.'

'That's fine with me,' said Harry. 'Wizarding Britain needs more celebrities. But do you really think people will forgive him?'

'They will if you do,' said Rita. 'You don't have to be best mates, and it's fine to say you're waiting for him to earn your trust. But I'd love to position him as your counterpart where witches are concerned. And frankly, my generation has been feeling a bit left out. Everyone older than, say, twenty-five assumes you wouldn't be interested.'

Harry stifled a laugh, knowing that would change if he dated Fiona publicly. 'How do you plan to portray us?' he asked.

'You're both tragic,' she began. 'His years at St Mungo's, and your ...' She gestured vaguely. 'Your everything.'

'Right, my "everything,"' he said dryly. 'Nice to know I'll always out-orphan him.'

'Exactly. And strictly speaking, he's better looking. His hair and teeth are national treasures, and those blue eyes of his ...' She took a deep breath to collect herself. 'And he's taller, or at least his shoes are. But you're impossibly charismatic, and you almost certainly have the better physique, which everyone will see when your adverts come out. You won't give me a sneak peek, will you?'

'No,' said Harry, hoping she was referring to the photographs and not his actual torso.

'Meanwhile, it's hard to say which of you is more of a bad boy. He's the actual lawbreaker, but you can coast for the rest of your life on those Undesirable Number One posters, not to mention the Lydia Travers affair. And between your Light magic and his self-help mission, you each have a stake in the virtue market. So you're ideally matched, and I'd love to play it up.' She chuckled and said, 'I fully expect people to declare themselves for Team Lockhart or Team Potter.'

'Potter-Black,' he mumbled.

'Darling, you're right! Please forgive me. And yes, I mustn't overlook the aristocrat angle.'

'I'm not an aristocrat!'

'Perhaps not, but your father was rich and your mum was pretty, which is the next best thing. Anyway, we can say "Team Harry" and "Team Gilderoy," if you prefer.'

'I don't prefer anything,' said Harry. 'We both know I'm doing this to keep you from slandering me.'

Rita pouted and said, 'Don't think of it like that. We're just aligning our goals. I want to make money by influencing the public, and so do you.'

'I'm not trying to make money. My goal is to make wizarding Britain more egalitarian.'

'And pay for dowries. By the way, I never heard back from Draco Malfoy. Is there trouble in paradise?'

'It's not my place to say.'

She sniffed and said, 'Narcissa must be relieved. Will the erstwhile bride need my assistance?'

'She'll be fine,' said Harry, hoping to change the subject. 'So, about Lockhart.'

But Rita was undeterred. 'Pure-bloods are positively obsessed with virginity, don't you think?'

'Ginny wasn't,' replied Harry automatically, and Rita cackled with delight.

'I meant traditional pure-bloods like the Malfoys. And the Blacks, I'm sure.'

'It's completely mental,' said Harry, in spite of himself. 'Hermione wants me to use my influence to change that, but I don't see how.'

'No, you can't. Lydia Travers might make a difference, but the real power lies with wizards like Draco Malfoy. Although that inane superstition about Squibs is a real impediment. Do me a favour and make sure all your kids turn out magical—and I'll give you bonus points if you don't marry a pure-blood.'

Harry wasn't sure what Fiona's blood status was, but he just smiled. 'I can't predict anything, except that I'll love my children no matter what.' He felt a surge of Light magic as he spoke, and even though he didn't glow, Rita noticed it.

'Oh please, won't you let me write about how romantic you are?' she said breathlessly. 'I'll promote it abroad, and it'll do wonders for your underwear sales.'

Now there's an idea, thought Harry. 'Do you have direct relationships with foreign publications, or do you work exclusively through the Prophet?' he asked.

Her cheeks flushed with excitement. 'You really are a Slytherin! I can't say I've ever transacted directly with a foreign publication, but there's nothing in my contract to prevent it. Am I correct to assume you'd give me more leeway abroad?'

Realising he had an advantage, Harry said, 'Yes, but I have a condition: Leave Gemma alone.'

'I'm sorry, what?' said Rita innocently.

'You heard me. Don't write about Gemma and me when she becomes a starter. You can write about how we played together as Cannons, but if you print one word about her crush, the deal is off.'

'So you haven't slept with her?'

'No, we're just friends.'

'And if she switches to another team?' asked Rita.

'Still just friends,' he repeated. 'Have I made myself clear?'

'Abundantly,' she said, setting up her Quick-Quotes Quill. 'Poor thing—she really didn't stand a chance, what with French models and the like. I could never pick on her like that.' Harry looked at Rita sceptically, and she said, 'Well, maybe I could, but not if I'm busy writing delicious articles about you for the foreign press. And promoting Lockhart, of course.'

Their interview began, and she drew quotes from Harry about Lockhart's colossal failure as a Defence professor and his craven attempt to Obliviate him in the Chamber of Secrets. Rita explained that she'd juxtapose Harry's quotes with Lockhart's admission of his own wrongdoing and his intense regrets on the topic. She also got Harry to say he'd accepted new Lockhart's apology, but that he might never be able to forgive old Lockhart, who'd seemed beyond remorse.

'But maybe losing his memory was the only way to get a fresh start,' he mused. 'I don't think there was hope for old Lockhart, but new Lockhart struck me as being much more honest.'

'And humble?' asked Rita.

'Yes, but probably not for long. He'll be as smug as ever when he's back on top.'

'Like you are?'

Harry laughed. 'Yes, well played. I hope I'm not that bad, but my mates started teasing me about turning into Lockhart as soon as I joined the Cannons. Which helps, actually—it's part of why I subject myself to Lee and George most weeks.'

'Do you think they'd interview him?' she asked.

'They might, but he'd never survive,' said Harry, thinking of Ginny, whose role wasn't publicly known.

'Don't rule it out. He'll do anything to get the message out, and that includes having Lee and George gang up on him.'

Harry was sceptical, but they continued the interview, and in the end he expressed hope that Lockhart might help people face their own wrongdoing. 'I can't argue with the value of emotional honesty,' he said. 'It's essential to Light magic, after all.'

'Bravo,' said Rita, leaning back in her chair. 'He may get Witch Weekly, but you'll always have your glowgasms.'

'What do you mean, Witch Weekly?' asked Harry, knowing exactly what she meant.

'Their Most-Charming-Smile Award. But you knew that.'

'They aren't my demographic,' he said. 'I doubt I'll win.'

'You had it wrapped up a month ago,' said Rita. 'Which was unfortunate, since no one likes a foregone conclusion. But with Gilderoy back on the scene you have some real competition—even the bookmakers are interested.'

'When will it be announced?'

'First Tuesday in November, after Hallowe'en.'

'After the WORF gala,' he said absently, and her eyes lit up.

'Please tell me you'll be there!'

'Yes. I've donated merchandise for the auction.'

'Including yourself, I hope!' He nodded, and she said, 'Then don't worry about Witch Weekly. A date with Harry Potter-Black is bound to fetch far more than a date with Gilderoy Lockhart. This year, anyway, when his stock is still low, although my article might help,' she said, indicating the parchment. 'And his memoir will come out in time for Yule.'

I know what I'm getting Hermione, thought Harry with amusement, and he was tempted to ask Lockhart to sign it. 'Are we finished here, or do you need a photograph?' he asked.

'I always need a photograph, darling. Although truth be told, we might just use the picture from outside the Hog's Head, and maybe an archival photo or two.'

'Then I'll be going,' said Harry, rising. 'Don't disappoint me with this article—I've become oddly fond of our unholy alliance.'

'Harry, I wouldn't dream of disappointing you,' she said, standing as well. He submitted to her air-kiss and bade her goodbye, making his way back to Grimmauld Place.

He stopped in the sitting room, where he'd laid out his purchases from the joke shop. All of them were small items, none costing more than a few Sickles, and he hoped they'd make Fiona smile.

Unable to contain his excitement, he told Banthora about his plans. 'I probably shouldn't use the jackdaws when I send things to her office, since they're starting to be well-known,' he said. 'But Lysander's as nondescript as they come, and I can use the jackdaws later, once we've gone public.'

'Your ardour does you credit,' she said. 'And I'm certain the young witch will be impressed.'

But Harry was nervous the next morning before lunch with Fiona. She's seven years older than I am, he thought with despair. When I started at Hogwarts, she'd already finished school, which makes her the same age as Tonks. And Tonks married Moony, who was even older. Whereas I'm just a nineteen year-old who's experiencing delayed adolescence, with an added dose of dead-mum trauma.

He showered before lunch and changed into a smart Muggle outfit. 'Do I look all right?' he asked Lara.

'Very elegant! Is that cashmere?' she asked, indicating his jumper.

'Er, I think so,' he said, feeling it. He'd bought it in July and hadn't worn it yet, but her question worried him. 'Bugger, I look pretentious! Or like I'm trying to impress her with expensive clothes. God, why can't I just be normal for once?'

'Harry, relax. She'll be flattered you dressed well.'

'I hope so,' he said, consulting his pocket watch. 'Five more minutes ... I can't go early, can I? Or would that be bad form?'

'No, it's fine, because you're going to her office and not her house. Go on!'

After triple-checking that he had his eyeglasses and the other items he'd promised, he travelled by Floo to WORF headquarters. Stepping out of the fireplace, he assumed a receptionist would greet him, but no one was there.

Am I in the right place? he wondered. It looked more like a house than a business, and it was nothing like the teeming nerve-centre he expected from the word 'headquarters.' There was a desk, at least, but little other indication of what transpired there.

Harry peeked at some of the papers and was relieved to see this was, in fact, the right place. They're definitely not wasting my monthly donation on swanky offices, he thought, and he was pleased they were so efficient. Not wanting to sneak up on anyone, he stayed where he was, but after a minute he grew uneasy and decided to look around.

Where is everyone? he wondered, exploring the main floor. He saw multiple desks but no people, and he instinctively pulled out his wand. His Auror training came flooding back, and he cautiously entered each successive room, taking care not to be vulnerable from behind.

Harry's senses were on high alert, and he heard the unmistakable whoosh of Floo-fire. He turned in an instant and dashed silently towards the entrance, where he found a middle-aged witch cleaning off her robes.

'Oh!' she exclaimed, dropping her wand and jerking backwards. But then she laughed and said, 'Is that how you always enter a room?'

Harry suddenly realised he was in full Auror stance—wand raised and at the ready. 'I beg your pardon,' he said, relaxing. 'I'm not sure what came over me. I have a noon appointment, and when no one was here ...'

'We were at an off-site meeting,' she explained. 'You're here for Fiona, right?'

'Er, yes,' he said, embarrassed. 'And I'm sorry to frighten you like that.'

'Nonsense, I'll have a good story. And she'll be here presently. I'm Lucy, by the way.'

Harry was about to reply when the fireplace flared green and Fiona appeared. 'Oh drat, I was hoping you'd be late,' she said when she saw him.

Lara was wrong! he thought, and he felt foolish for arriving early. 'I'm sorry,' he began, but Fiona shook her head.

'I should apologise for keeping you waiting, with everything you're doing for us. May I see them?' she asked.

'See what?' replied Harry, still dazed from the preceding few minutes. 'Oh, my eyeglasses. Yes, of course.'

'Actually, hold that thought and follow me,' said Fiona, leading him to one of the rooms he'd investigated. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a large wooden board, upon which the remains of his first Silver Arrow were mounted. 'I need you to autograph this.'

She handed him a marker pen and indicated where to sign. 'Which name should I use?' he asked. 'I was still Harry Potter when I had my accident.'

'Good question. Would you mind using your old name? That's still how everyone thinks of you.'

'I know—that's how I think of me too,' he admitted. 'I'm sure I'll get used to it someday.'

'You will,' said Fiona. 'When I got married, it took me ages to feel like Fiona Dunning and not Fiona Wycliffe. But I liked what it symbolised, and from what you've said about your godfather, I suspect you feel the same way.'

'I do. And thanks for reminding me—I changed my name to rehabilitate House Black, but it's come to mean more than just that, now that I've met more of the family.' He wanted to tell her about Banthora, but he was conscious of the time and simply signed his name.

'And now your glasses,' she said. 'I know we have to go to Gringotts, but I won't have the nerve to try them on with a goblin sitting there. That is, if you don't mind.'

'Go right ahead,' said Harry, pulling them from his pouch and handing them to her.

When she put them on, she exclaimed, 'Oh my god, your eyesight was catastrophic!'

Harry didn't reply, since he was overwhelmed with admiration for her. Why do ugly glasses look so good on a pretty face? he wondered.

'We should head to Gringotts,' she said, taking them off. 'Do you have the books and Cannons merchandise, or will you owl them separately?'

'No, it's all here,' he said, reaching into his pouch again. First he pulled out the books he and Hermione had cleansed, then the signed merchandise.

Fiona examined one of the book covers. 'Advanced Battle Magics,' she read, and she began flipping through it. 'You're right, it's almost all blank!'

'Except for the photographs,' said Harry, pointing one out. 'That one used to show a wizard casting Dark curses, but now it's just kittens climbing in and out of a box. I blame Hermione.'

'That's brilliant! People will love it!'

'I hope so. And I also brought this,' he said, handing her the potted jasmine plant. 'Sorry, I couldn't resist.'

'How lovely!' she exclaimed. He told her it would start blooming within a week, and that it was enchanted to bloom much longer than a normal jasmine.

'That was terribly thoughtful,' she said, setting it next to the window. For a moment she looked at him expectantly, but then her expression changed and she said, 'We really need to go. We'll grab Lucy, then Floo to the Leaky Cauldron.'

'Lucy?'

'My colleague. She also needs to go to Gringotts, so I thought we'd go together.'

Harry tried to hide his disappointment. 'Yes, of course,' he said, following her to the entrance. So much for this being a date, he thought glumly.

He and Lucy were introduced properly, and they travelled by Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. He attracted notice as usual, but Lucy monopolised him, which spared him from having to chat with the tavern customers. Fiona, meanwhile, had dashed ahead, and they met her behind the pub at the brick wall.

Taking the hint, Harry hung back with Lucy as they walked to Gringotts, and Fiona only addressed him after they entered the bank. A goblin led them to a private room, and they were seated.

'My name is Spinetap, and I'll assist you this afternoon,' he said, unrolling a leather pad. 'Please set the item here.'

Fiona produced Harry's glasses and placed them where indicated. 'Blink and you'll miss it,' she said to Harry, as Spinetap pressed a heavy gold seal to the pad. Harry's glasses flashed with white light, and Spinetap returned the seal to his waistcoat pocket.

'It is done,' he said. 'Gringotts affirms that the item retains no trace of Mr Potter-Black.' Producing a blank parchment, he said, 'All we need now is for Mr Potter-Black to state aloud that these were, in fact, his eyeglasses.'

'Yes, they were my eyeglasses. I wore them until July of this year, when I got my eyesight fixed.'

Calligraphy appeared on the parchment, attesting to the glasses' authenticity, and Spinetap asked Harry to sign it. The goblin then passed his hand over the parchment in a single smooth motion, and Harry could see that the ink was dry.

Mischief managed, thought Harry as Spinetap gave the eyeglasses and parchment to Fiona. Everyone stood up, and after a polite exchange they returned to the lobby. Lucy headed for the exit but Fiona said, 'Didn't you have a transaction?'

'Oh, right,' she replied. 'I'll just be a moment.'

Lucy approached the counter and Fiona distanced herself from Harry, making a show of looking for something in her handbag. She clearly doesn't want to be seen with me, he thought, and he felt embarrassed waiting there on his own. Did I just imagine she fancied me? Or maybe our connection in the back garden was a passing phenomenon, like when Cho and I snogged in the Room of Requirement. Only I blew my chance with Fiona.

He was starting to rethink his plan to woo Fiona with little gifts and letters. I'll look like a bloody stalker if I do that, he thought, and he wondered if Owen's daughters might like the gifts instead.

Lucy finished her transaction and they returned to the Leaky Cauldron, with Fiona several paces ahead. They exited to the Muggle street, and to Harry's relief Fiona walked alongside him once they were past the front window. 'Do you have somewhere in mind?' she asked warmly.

His tension eased, just a little. 'Yes, there's a noodle shop not far from here,' he said, and he led them there. This time Lucy hung back, which Harry appreciated, but Fiona's regular glances over her shoulder made him wonder whether she was unhappy to be stuck with him.

They ordered at the counter and Harry insisted on paying, but the only table available was decidedly too small. Lucy volunteered to sit at the bar, but Fiona insisted there was room, and she found a third chair. When they sat down, Fiona's knee struck Harry's, and he shifted his leg to give her more room, but it was too cramped for them to break contact entirely.

You'd better enjoy this, Snitchbottom, thought Harry, because this is the closest you're getting to a kiss this afternoon. But he did enjoy it—in fact, he was amazed by how satisfying it was to feel her knee against his thigh. Sweet Merlin, I've got it bad, he thought.

He learnt that Lucy was a case manager for WORF. 'Obviously I can't share details,' she said, 'but we've had some very good outcomes in the cases you've referred to us. It was overwhelming at first—normally we don't have so many new clients at once. But thanks to your support, we've been able to increase our staff, and we have high hopes for the auction.' She explained that once they met their fundraising goal, anything above that could go towards capital expenses, like acquiring new housing.

'Things were already looking good for this year's gala, but when Fiona told us you'd offered your eyeglasses, there was a special meeting about how we might use the proceeds. And then you sent us your broomstick, which will appeal to Quidditch enthusiasts. So we're in tremendous shape already.'

'Don't forget he agreed to auction off a date,' said Fiona.

'Oh, I know,' said Lucy, with a gleam in her eye. 'Harry, I hope you like older women, because they're the only ones with that kind of gold.'

Fiona looked at him questioningly, and Harry was dead tempted to say he liked a twenty-six year-old, no gold required. 'Anything to help WORF,' he said. 'Assuming they won't hold my age against me,' he added, with a meaningful glance at Fiona.

She started coughing and needed a drink of water. Seizing the moment, Harry pressed his thigh a little more firmly against her knee, and she didn't pull away. 'Are you all right?' he asked, giving her a tiny hint of the Look.

'Yes, it's just a little dry in here.'

'It's a good thing we ordered soup,' said Lucy. 'Tell me, Harry, did you ever imagine a few years ago you'd be auctioning off a date for charity?'

He normally would have said something about not expecting to be alive, but he knew that would be in poor taste, given Fiona's situation. 'Dumbledore never would have allowed it,' he said. 'And frankly, I'd have been useless on a date—back then I could scarcely work up the nerve to ask anyone out.'

'I find that hard to believe,' said Fiona. 'I realise you had other things on your mind, but surely there were girls who fancied you.' Harry was encouraged by her implied attraction to him, but then she said, 'I've seen photos, and you were simply adorable! Although the mum in me wants to travel back in time and give you a few square meals.'

Bugger, she sees me as a child! he thought despairingly. 'I suppose there were girls interested, but they mostly didn't know me—they were only interested in the Boy Who Lived. Which probably made me even more awkward, not less.'

'Clearly you recovered,' said Lucy. 'Although now I feel bad that WORF is subjecting you to a date with a stranger. We'll have to make it up to you somehow,' she added, with a sly look at Fiona.

Fiona looked mortified, and she attempted to kick Lucy, only her foot caught Harry's instead. 'Excuse me,' she blurted, suddenly rising from her chair.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Lucy said, 'Oh dear, I went too far. But you fancy her, right?'

This time Harry was mortified. 'Is it that obvious?'

'Yes, but that's what she needs. Otherwise she'll convince herself you couldn't possibly be interested.'

'But does she think I'm too young, or maybe just looking for a conquest?'

'Yes to both,' said Lucy. 'But she told me what you did for her at your party, and that's not how a seducer behaves. She'd have seen right through you if you weren't sincere.'

'So why does she doubt my intentions?'

'Harry, use your brain. From her perspective, she'd either have to be daft or delusional to think you see her that way. Or that if you do fancy her, you couldn't possibly want a real relationship.'

'Because of my vow?' he asked.

'Because you're a nineteen-year-old Seeker. Normally they don't date twenty-six-year-old widowed mums.'

'I've never been normal,' he said. He was about to ask Lucy for advice, but Fiona reappeared and took her seat, taking care not to touch Harry's leg again. Lucy relieved the tension by talking about WORF, and soon their food arrived.

But it wasn't long before Lucy resumed her matchmaking. 'So Harry, who are you bringing to the gala?'

'I have no idea,' he said. 'I'm not seeing anyone right now, so maybe I'll go alone.'

'What about Sophie?' asked Fiona. 'Won't she be in London then?'

'No, we've split up. Amicably.'

'That's good,' said Lucy, earning a glare from Fiona. 'I mean the amicable part. Are you on good terms with all your exes?'

'I wasn't with Lydia,' he admitted, 'but she came to the party and we're all right now. And Ginny and I will probably be lifelong friends.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Lucy. 'If you were a bad egg, word would get out sooner or later. But so far there's only been that article in Sorceress.'

Harry wasn't sure whether he or Fiona was more embarrassed, but he also appreciated what Lucy was doing. She's giving Fiona and me something to laugh about later, he thought, and he was tempted to mention it in his first letter, which he'd resolved to send after all. Lucy had at least reassured him that Fiona was interested, if she could be convinced he was sincere.

Towards the end of the meal, Lucy excused herself to the loo, and Harry steeled himself to ask Fiona out. But she surprised him by saying, 'My little boy is still talking about your godson, and so are Kate and Liza. I'm sure you're busy, but perhaps you'd like to bring him around sometime.'

'I'd love that,' said Harry. 'And I know Andromeda would enjoy a break.'

'I can't imagine solo parenting a toddler,' said Fiona. 'Raising a five-year-old is hard enough, but at least Matthew's out of nappies. And he's not as clingy as he was this time last year; he regressed for a while after Rob died, but now he's back to his independent self.'

Did I regress when when my parents died? wondered Harry, and Fiona seemed to read his thoughts. 'I'm sorry—I've done it again,' she said, but Harry interrupted her.

'Don't be embarrassed, please. I'm not sensitive about being an orphan, and you should feel free to say what you're thinking.' Smiling, he added, 'I promise, I've heard worse.'

'I'm sure you have,' she said tenderly, and Harry's heart surged with affection. He held her gaze, and the crowded restaurant seemed to recede around them. Her lips parted, and he was ready to kiss her when she blurted, 'Does Sunday work?'

'I'm sorry?'

'To bring your godson around. On Sunday.'

He leaned back and took a deep breath. 'Yes, of course. All I have is my Light magic lesson that evening.'

'Then I'll check with Jill and get back to you,' she said.

Lucy returned and caught Harry's eye when Fiona wasn't looking. He responded with a minute nod, and she beamed at him. 'All right, back to work,' she announced. 'Harry, that Snitch won't catch itself. And Fiona has a catalogue to prepare.'

'It's nearly done,' she said, standing up. 'We just needed your items and a few others. By the way, there'll be a press release, so you'll probably get some attention over it.'

'It's for a good cause,' he said, and they left the restaurant together. It was a short walk to an alleyway, and Fiona said, 'Thanks again for lunch, and for the eyeglasses, of course.'

'It was my pleasure,' he replied, holding her gaze once more. Her eyes darkened with unmistakable longing, and Harry smiled roguishly before turning to Lucy. 'I'm so glad you could join us,' he said, 'and thanks for everything you're doing.'

Lucy thanked him as well, and after saying goodbye he Apparated back to the Cannons training grounds.

When he entered the building, Lara asked, 'How did your date go?'

'It wasn't a date. Her colleague accompanied us, and we had only a minute alone.'

Lara scowled and said, 'How obnoxious! I hope you're not too disappointed.'

'No, not all all,' Harry assured her. And he surprised himself by saying, 'In fact, it couldn't have gone better.'