That evening, Harry sent his first letter to Fiona. He wrote:

Dear Fiona,

I enjoyed seeing you today, and I look forward to bringing Teddy over on Sunday. As predicted, Andromeda was delighted at the prospect of a break, and I'm grateful for the chance to fulfil my godfatherly duties without having to entertain him alone. He at least enjoys riding his toy broom, but he does not yet appreciate my political insights or sparkling wit.

I don't expect Matthew to appreciate them either, but perhaps he'll like these enchanted blowing bubbles. As you'll see on the bottle, they change shape and colour with a simple incantation, and George recommends trying an Engorgement Charm. But please decide for yourself when to reveal them, since I'm at great risk of spoiling any child who comes within a ten-foot radius.

I also enjoyed meeting Lucy, but I confess I'd have liked more time with you alone. You bring out a side of me I've never experienced before, and I'm eager to see where it leads.

Yours sincerely,
Harry

He addressed the small parcel to her office and dispatched it with Lysander. Let the stalking commence, he thought as the owl flew away, and he decided to ask Lucy to warn him if Fiona was getting creeped out. But he remembered the look in her eyes, and her unmistakable thirst for intimacy, matched by his own. Sunday can't come soon enough, he thought longingly.

The next day at practice, a gleeful Darren announced, 'I finally heard from Luna. It turns out she was off tracking some animal I've never heard of, and she didn't even open her post until she got home. But she said she'll see me tonight, and Saturday as well.'

'Fantastic,' said Harry. 'Will she attend the match?'

'Yes, and she wants to visit the Spyglass afterwards. Will you be there?'

'I will now,' said Harry, curious to see what Luna made of the Chudley pub, and vice versa.

Gemma remained in good spirits, to Harry's amazement, although she conspicuously avoided talking about Fiona. But she overheard him telling Janet about his weekend plans with Ginny, Wendy, and Draco.

'Why are you taking Draco Malfoy to a Muggle nightclub?' she asked. 'Did you lose a bet?'

'No, but Ginny and Wendy have a wager about how many times Draco will have to Memory Charm his way out of trouble. And they're brainstorming false information to feed him about the Muggle world, just to see what happens.'

'Such as?'

'Like how it's common for Muggles to have pet monkeys, which they train to perform simple tasks.'

'But that is common,' said Gemma. 'We had a monkey until I was thirteen. His name was Mister Twinkles and my dad picked him up overseas.'

'Are you serious?'

'Dead serious. Playing with Mister Twinkles was the best part of going to Divorced Dad Towers at the weekend, and the next time Dad was deployed we begged Mum to let us keep him.'

'And she agreed to that?' asked Harry.

'No, you daft bugger, because I'm having you on. Of course we didn't have a pet monkey.' Harry scowled, and she said, 'But cheer up, because Draco Malfoy will definitely fall for it if you just did.'

'Good point. It's tempting to come up with some lies of my own, but I'm trying to be completely truthful as part of my Light Arts practice, and it's not easy.'

Gemma looked at him critically and said, 'Doesn't it count as lying to let him believe all the rubbish Ginny and Wendy are planning to feed him?'

Harry grimaced and said, 'Yeah, it probably does. But Draco lied for an entire year about Voldemort being back, so I'm giving myself a free pass.'

When he got home from practice, two new letters awaited him. He wasn't sure whether to read Fiona's or Lucy's first, but he decided on the latter, in case it contained a warning. He read:

Dear Harry,

Well done! Your little gift was on Fiona's desk this morning when she arrived, and I saw her open it. She looked very pleased indeed, and when I popped into her office later she was rereading your letter.

I'm sure you're tempted, but don't send her flowers straight away. Several of our colleagues are shameless gossips (I cleverly kept them from the office while you were there), and if you go overboard with your wooing they'll shout it from the rooftops. But Fiona receives small parcels at work all the time, in conjunction with the auction, so as long as you don't have your house-elf deliver them wearing the Black family crest, you can continue sending things here.

Conspiratorially yours,
Lucy

Harry smiled and resolved to send Lucy a short note of thanks. But not before reading Fiona's letter:

Dear Harry,

What a lovely surprise it was to find a little parcel from you on my desk this morning! The bubbles look like great fun, and I know Matthew will enjoy them. I'll give them to him this evening after work, assuming he didn't terrorise his carer during the day, and we'll bring them on Sunday when we see Kate and Liza (Jill says to arrive any time after one o'clock).

I also appreciated your note, although I hardly know how to respond to your statement at the end. You certainly live up to your reputation as Britain's most fascinating wizard, and I confess I'm curious to get to know him better.

Thank you for the gift, and I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.

Warm regards,
Fiona

After reading it a second time, Harry decided he was pleased with her reply. Not the bit about being Britain's most fascinating wizard, which trod dangerously close to 'Boy Who Lived' territory, but her confession that she wanted to get to know him better. That can be arranged, he thought, pulling stationery from the drawer. He wrote:

Dear Fiona,

Yesterday I sent something for Matthew, but today's gift is just for you. Please tell me at once if you don't like chocolate, since the sweets shop has any number of options, and if I'm going to send you something every day, I'd like to get it right.

I should mention that I've never done this with any other witch, in case you're worried this is my standard procedure. As I said yesterday, you're bringing out a new side of me, which means I'm learning as I go along.

Yours devotedly,
Harry

He was smiling all morning at practice, which prompted Janet to ask again about his mystery witch. 'I thought I'd seen a lovesick Snitchbottom before, but today you're worse than ever. Have you even kissed her yet?'

'No. If I'm lucky, I will on Sunday, but I'm not counting on it.'

Janet paled. 'Oh my god, she's a nun! I predicted this last month, when you gave up prostitutes and then C-squareds. And you're planning to kiss her at church!'

'She's not a nun!' began Harry, but Janet interrupted him.

'Well, maybe not a nun, but she's obviously not like anyone else you've dated before. Which means you actually need to woo her, instead of just winking at her and waggling your tongue, or whatever you usually do.'

Harry was stunned speechless, but Darren came to his rescue. 'I commend Harry for expanding his repertoire. I had my second date with Luna last night, and I can hardly believe what I'd been missing. She's everything I want, and a whole host of other things I couldn't have imagined. Harry, did you know she speaks Mermish?'

'No, but I'm not surprised.'

'Well, I certainly was!' said Darren. 'It would have been one thing if she'd told me in advance, but she trotted it out when we were horizontal, which was frankly a little alarming.'

'I can imagine,' said Harry. 'Mermish is rather ... screechy.'

'Too right. Anyway, she suggested we try it underwater, but I only have a shower, so we're going to a hot spring on Saturday after the match. She says there's a colony of some weird creature or other—I swear, I've never heard of any of these animals she's always on about.'

'You wouldn't have done,' said Harry. 'But it sounds like you don't mind her talking about them, right?'

'Honestly, it goes in one ear and out the other. Not because I'm not interested, but she's just so animated when she talks that I get distracted, which leads to snogging.'

'I'm glad she's having fun,' said Harry. 'But remember, I'll curse you if you mistreat her somehow.'

'That's fine with me—I'm glad someone's looking out for her. Obviously she knows which end of a wand to hold, but I worry about her, off in her own world like that.'

Harry had to skip lunch with his teammates yet again, this time to meet with Lydia's boyfriend, Marcus. He planned to ask Marcus to be his Wizengamot proxy, and he was also curious to get to know him better. His only worry was whether Marcus knew about the threesome months earlier with his sister, Vanessa.

I suppose if things get awkward we can always talk about Lydia, thought Harry with amusement. He returned to Grimmauld Place and waited for Marcus in the reception hall.

Flames heralded his arrival, and the tall, dark-haired wizard stepped from the fireplace. 'Welcome,' said Harry while Marcus removed the ashes from his robes. 'I'm glad you could join me.'

'Thanks for inviting me,' he said, extending his hand. Harry noticed he wore traditional robes, more baggy than fitted, but he didn't take it as an insult. He'd look like Prince Charming in fitted robes, and that might be a bit overwhelming at work.

They exchanged greetings and Harry led him to the dining room, where Lodie served an unpretentious, French-style lunch. 'This looks wonderful,' said Marcus. 'And delightfully simple. Kammy is a great cook, but if Lydia asks her to serve fewer than five courses she's liable to punish herself.'

'Poor Kammy ... she was a good sport while Lydia was staying here. So was Lydia, for that matter. You'll notice I have a distinct lack of cutlery.'

'I eat the same way at home,' said Marcus, indicating the mismatched forks and knife. 'Oyster forks were a low priority when I set up house after the war.'

'After being disinherited, you mean?'

'No, I was disinherited before that. My cover was blown a few months earlier, and my parents denied me shelter.'

'They kicked you out, even though you might have been killed?'

'I wouldn't have been killed,' said Marcus. 'Pure-blood privilege, after all. But I might have been tortured, or who knows what else. Fortunately, I had friends who were good at hiding people.'

Harry chuckled. 'Trunk or tent?'

'Tent. Not bad, really, since I still had my wand. And they brought us food and supplies, so we were perfectly comfortable. But it was frustrating not to serve as an informant anymore.'

'Were you in the tent with Muggle-borns?'

'Yes, and they all were making do with borrowed wands, so they were glad to have someone with ready magic.'

'How did you pass the time?'

'Brewing, mostly. By the end I could probably brew Polyjuice in my sleep—we started a new batch every day.'

'Blimey! Who was using it?'

'A couple of our people had infiltrated the Ministry. They managed to kidnap a few collaborators, and they used Polyjuice to impersonate them.'

'Wow!' said Harry. 'Anyone good?'

'No one very high-ranking, unfortunately, and we were limited to people who lived alone. But even mid-level functionaries could do a lot of harm, as you know, and we were able to prevent some of it.'

'That's fantastic,' said Harry. 'I hope you felt good about what you were doing.'

Marcus sighed. 'Honestly, it was frustrating as hell. Voldemort and his inner circle were untouchable, and so were their allies. We wanted desperately to get Dolores Umbridge out of the picture, but she had every possible safeguard in place. Particularly after you and your mates broke into the Ministry and got into her office.' Looking at Harry appraisingly, he asked, 'Why exactly did you do that anyway? Surely it wasn't just to retrieve that magical eyeball.'

'No, it wasn't,' said Harry, and he explained that the reason was classified. 'But I can relate to how frustrated you felt—we spent most of that year spinning our wheels.'

Marcus was quiet for a moment. 'It's really a miracle we won, isn't it?'

'It is. And the price was horrific. The only consolation is learning how many deaths people like you prevented.'

'When you put it like that,' said Marcus, trailing off. After another silence he said, 'How do we keep it from happening again?'

'That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. As everyone knows, I unexpectedly inherited a Wizengamot seat several months ago.'

'Not just any seat—House Black,' said Marcus, laughing. 'Sorry about the ring, but I'm thrilled you have it. The last thing Britain needed was for the Malfoys to have two votes.'

'I know, right? But I need your help.' Marcus assumed a neutral expression, and Harry continued. 'I've only attended two sessions, and I don't think I've missed any important votes. But it's downright irresponsible for me not to participate. In short, I need a proxy.'

'Are you asking for a recommendation?' said Marcus. 'I can think of several people who'd do a great job.'

'No, I'm asking you to do it. I'd like for you to be my proxy.'

Marcus looked stunned. 'Me? This isn't about Lydia, is it?'

'How do you mean?'

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that,' said Marcus, embarrassed. 'It's just ... I don't want her calling in favours on my behalf.'

'She didn't. Or if she did, she was so Slytherin that I thought it was my idea.'

Marcus chuckled and said, 'I've learnt never to underestimate that mind of hers. She's really astonishingly clever.'

'That she is,' said Harry. 'But you haven't answered my question: Will you be my Wizengamot proxy?'

A silence, and Marcus looked Harry in the eye. 'Why me? I'm sure you know loads of people. Hermione, for example.'

Harry blinked. 'That never crossed my mind, actually. Or hers, as far as I know. But I have several reasons for asking you. One is that I admire what you did during the war—you could have sat it out in any number of ways, but you put yourself at risk and were literally disowned for it. Another is that you didn't attend Hogwarts.'

'That's true, but I'm hardly an outsider. My father's family is all Hogwarts, and most of my mother's people as well. I have no idea why my siblings and I received Stodgings letters.' He took a sip of water and said, 'So if you're looking for someone from the disenfranchised class, I'm a poor choice.'

'Perhaps, but you'd still be the first non-Hogwarts wizard to cast a Wizengamot vote. And I hate to say it, but if I appoint someone who's already a hair's breadth away from the ruling class, no one can call it a stunt.'

'Not for that reason,' said Marcus. 'But what about Lydia? Everyone knows we're dating, and people might think she brokered it.'

'I don't see that as a problem. I mean, yes, if you didn't have any qualifications of your own, people might legitimately think that. But you're a war hero, and unlike me you presumably want a political career.'

Marcus didn't deny it. 'If that's the best way to prevent another war, then yes.'

'I think it is. If I had the temperament for politics I'd do the same, but I don't.'

'You've probably done more to advance the Light agenda as a Seeker than you could as a politician,' said Marcus. 'For example, if you worked for the Ministry you could never go on Weasley's Wizard Wireless every week, and it's a tremendous platform. I know you skipped this week, but I hope you'll be back.'

'I'm sure I will be,' said Harry, thinking of the underwear adverts. 'As for Lydia, is it so bad if people see her as some kind of mastermind? She has just as much potential to change society as you or I do, and I'd hate to see that limited because people think she's just decorative.'

Sighing affectionately, Marcus said, 'She's so much more than that. And yes, she was born to influence people. I love watching people meet her for the first time, because of the inevitable moment when they realise she's far more clever than they thought. But back to your question ... Yes, I would be honoured to represent you at the Wizengamot.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Harry. 'Er, you know I want to scrap the goblin treaties, right?'

Marcus assured Harry he did, and they talked politics for the rest of the meal. Only at the end did Marcus say, 'Harry, it's an odd bond we share. And my first loyalty will always be to Lydia. But I can't help feeling optimistic we'll accomplish something great together. With your Light magic and overall popularity, and my work on your behalf in the Wizengamot—and Lydia's growing sphere of influence—we can effect real change in wizarding society, while preserving the traditions worth keeping.' With a smirk, he added, 'Just try not to bollocks things up with a colossal new scandal.'

Harry felt his face turn red. 'Er, I should probably warn you about my new endorsement,' he said, before telling Marcus about the underwear adverts. But to his relief, Marcus only laughed.

'You really go all in, don't you?'

'Dowries are expensive!' blurted Harry, and Marcus laughed again. 'And I joined Pratt's, as I'm sure you're aware, so I can contain the damage from that end.'

They shook hands again in front of the fireplace, and Marcus promised to owl Harry the proxy form. 'All you need to do is get it inscribed by the Registrar General,' he said before leaving, and Harry tried to hide his dismay. Best do it soon, he thought, hoping Sylvan Burke wouldn't lay another trap.

Afternoon practice went smoothly, although Gemma was unimpressed by his choice of Wizengamot proxy. 'You should have asked me for a recommendation,' she said during the practice match. 'I'd have found you an East Ket Muggle-born who'd baffle everyone with dropped H's and rhyming slang.'

Harry chuckled, envisioning Stan Shunpike. Maybe he'd do it in exchange for letting me drive the Knight Bus, he thought. 'I'll keep that in mind,' he told Gemma.

'No you won't. But that's all right—you're using your outrageous advantages to uplift the rest of us.'

'That was oddly charitable,' said Harry. 'Have you forgotten you're supposed to taunt me above the pitch?'

'Oh, right,' she said. 'I guess I'm not feeling it like I used to. Is that a Light magic thing?'

'I couldn't say—I kept taunting for weeks after I started glowing, as you may recall.'

'That's true, and I'm sure I could taunt during a real match. Not that I'm likely to play in one soon.'

'Don't be so sure,' said Harry, knowing Tuttle was starting her against the Falcons in a week. 'I might get Bludgered again.'

'No, that was a fluke. You're a bloody amazing flyer.'

'Then maybe Isla Preston will retire and you'll fly for the Catapults. What did you tell them, by the way?'

'I told them to owl me when she's preggers. Which means you're still stuck with me, probably till the end of the season.'

'That's a relief,' said Harry. 'I'll definitely miss flying against you every day, and unlike with Owen, I won't even see you regularly.'

'There's always Seekers' Night Out,' she said. 'And you'll see me in Chicago this winter at the World Quidditch Conference.'

'It's official?' he asked.

'It will be tonight, if I can catch the Snitch in time to sign the contract with Firebolt.'

But Harry caught the Snitch that afternoon, and before leaving he collected a fat sheaf of letters from Mrs Thwip. It never ends, he thought irritably, anticipating hours of replies. But his mood improved drastically when he got home and saw a letter from Fiona. Wanting to savour it, he asked Kreacher for tea and made himself comfortable on the sofa. He read:

Dear Harry,

I do, in fact, like chocolate, particularly in small doses. Which isn't to say I couldn't eat an entire bag of Smarties, or a small family of Chocolate Frogs. But there's something delightfully decadent about eating a single chocolate truffle at my desk when no one is watching.

You've certainly surprised me, not only with two gifts but also the news that you plan to continue. I can't imagine what I've done to catch your fancy, but I'll admit it's a welcome distraction. Between gala preparations and single motherhood, I have little time for a social life, but I can always spare a moment to enjoy the attentions of an adorably romantic young Seeker.

With fond gratitude,
Fiona

Harry was frowning after he read it. The first paragraph seemed promising, when she described the 'delightfully decadent' experience of eating a chocolate in private. But he didn't appreciate being called 'an adorably romantic young Seeker,' which made him sound like a kid with a crush. Which I am, he supposed, but he would have preferred she see him as an equal. Couldn't she have said 'dashingly romantic' instead?

He was also dismayed by her closing phrase, 'With fond gratitude.' That's not how you sign a letter to someone you fancy, he thought. It's the written equivalent of a pat on the head; she might as well have signed it, 'Nice try, Snitchbottom, but it's not going to happen.'

After brooding over his tea, he went to the writing table to draft his reply. He'd already decided to send a packet of enchanted stickers depicting dragons, which George assured him were all the rage amongst kids Matthew's age. 'Ask a five-year-old what their mum's first name is and they'll give you a blank stare,' he told Harry. 'But if you ask them who would win a fight between a Ukrainian Ironbelly and a Peruvian Vipertooth, you'll get ten minutes of expert analysis.'

Harry wrote:

Dear Fiona,

I'm glad to hear you like chocolate, because I've got more scheduled for the coming week. Although I might have trouble staying on my broom if I picture you savouring it in private ... I already think about your lips far too often, and imagining your stolen moment of pleasure could easily cost me the Snitch. But it's a risk I'm willing to take.

You expressed surprise that you've caught my fancy, but I can list a dozen or more reasons. Should I tell you them all at once, or include one in each letter? Perhaps I'll just tell you one, and you can let me know in your reply whether you'd rather have the entire list.

I'll start with your lips, since I already mentioned them. But instead of saying how beautiful they are, which you've surely heard by now, I'll describe how they seem to convey your moods. For example, when you're upset you come perilously close to pouting but never quite get there. I keep waiting for it, but either you outgrew the pouting phase or you were never sufficiently spoilt.

When you're interested in something, your lips form a small O, and I'm at risk of not paying enough attention to your eyes, which merit a long letter of their own. As do your smiles, and I haven't yet decided which one is my favourite. But I'm definitely fond of your smirk, which hints at how clever you are (another list item—fortunately I have heaps of stationery).

But the mental image I keep returning to is when we spoke alone on Wednesday, before leaving the restaurant. Your lips parted, and for a moment nothing else existed. Will we have a moment alone on Sunday? Or will you make me wait until I've proven this is no passing fancy? Because it isn't, and I swear I've never written a letter like this. I know it's hopelessly smarmy, but now that I've decided to pursue you I'm pulling out all the stops.

Please tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable, and I'll stop straight away—I may be smarmy, but I'm not a stalker.

With sincere affection,
Harry

Assuming she wouldn't be at work on a Saturday, Harry addressed it to her house and resolved to send it the next morning via jackdaw. If she doesn't already know how pretentious I am, she may as well find out, he thought.

Writing the letter had revived his hopes, but he was uneasy again during dinner with Simon. His tutor had mostly been quiet, due to the impending full moon, but he perked up considerably after eating. 'Harry,' he asked, 'are you all right?'

Harry, who was pushing potatoes around his half-full plate, said, 'Yeah, I'm fine.' Simon just looked at him, and Harry said, 'Actually, no. I have a lot on my mind.'

'May I help?' asked Simon. 'I'd be glad to listen, if nothing else.'

'Come to think of it, you're probably the ideal listener, since we're in the same boat.'

Simon raised one eyebrow. 'Now I'm intrigued. Which boat are you referring to? Not lycanthropy, I presume.'

'No, nothing like that. But I'm trying to date a widow, and I feel like she's pushing me away.'

A heavy sigh from Simon. 'Yes, I'm definitely in that boat as well. I saw Andromeda on Sunday and was supposed to see her last night, but she cancelled midday, saying Teddy hadn't slept well.'

'Isn't that what naps are for?' asked Harry.

'So far as I know, yes. And it was all the more disappointing because of how things ended on Sunday. Teddy was asleep, and Andromeda and I went outside to watch a meteor shower. We lay side by side on a blanket, and to pass the time we recited poems from memory. We spent more than an hour like that, and as it got colder she slid right next to me, instead of refreshing her Warming Charm. But she suddenly sat up and said it was late, and that was that.'

'Sounds familiar,' said Harry, recalling his moment alone in the restaurant with Fiona. 'It must be a widow thing—they start getting close, and then they pull back.'

'It's perfectly understandable, if you think about it. She loved her husband completely, one assumes, but then her heart was shattered when he died. It's no wonder she'd be afraid to fall in love again.'

'But people remarry,' argued Harry, hoping to convince himself. 'According to a mutual friend, Fiona wants to remarry and have more kids.'

Simon gave him a look. 'Then your age is probably a strike against you. That and your marriage vow.'

'I know my age is a strike against me,' he sighed. 'And my vow as well, although if I didn't have it I'd probably be married by now, so it's a moot point.'

'If you don't mind my asking, why do you like her? You've no shortage of options, so it's an odd choice.'

Harry took a deep breath, and Light magic ran through him. 'I can't exactly describe it. Obviously I'm attracted to her, but it's definitely more than that.' He thought for a moment and said, 'I feel a connection with her, and I don't think it's just grief. It's like she's been through a storm—same as me—and we can't hide our emotions anymore. Or won't hide them, rather.'

Simon nodded in understanding, and Harry continued. 'She must have a tremendous capacity for love, to be grieving so much. And her walls are so high that I can't help feeling there's an amazing treasure behind them. Which I realise makes me sound selfish, but that's not what I mean. I want desperately to free her from those walls, and help her live again.'

After a silence, Simon asked, 'Are you familiar with Simon and Garfunkel?' Harry shook his head, and his tutor said, 'There's a song you need to hear. I have the record at home, but I'm sure you'll want your own copy.'

Harry quickly finished eating, and they went to the wizarding record shop in Manchester. A quick search through the bins yielded the album, and Simon joined Harry in a listening booth. He set the needle onto the final track, called 'I Am a Rock.'

They listened together, and afterwards Harry said, 'Yes, exactly. Particularly that line, "If I never loved, I never would have cried." Is this song well-known?'

'It is. And I'm glad you reminded me of it, because it describes Andromeda as well.' Sighing, he added, 'I've truly grown to care for her.'

Harry was momentarily overwhelmed with empathy for his tutor, and he wished he could help somehow. 'Here's an idea,' he said. 'What if I ask her for advice about Fiona? I bet she'd reveal something about her own situation.'

'No, you mustn't try to trick her like that. She'll either come around or she won't. And in the meantime, I'm getting to know a truly lovely witch.'

But Harry was tempted nonetheless, and he resolved to say something when he picked up Teddy on Sunday. 'Will I see you on Monday morning, after the full moon?' he asked Simon.

'Yes, if that's all right. But hopefully not much longer—starting on November the first, several other werewolves and I will be renting a house, which means I won't need a place to recover. We were barely scraping by until recently, but thanks to your endorsement of FLOOF, we're gainfully employed.'

Harry bought another stack of records, including several by the Kinks, whom Fiona had recommended. He and Simon returned to Grimmauld Place, where they listened to several albums and had a highly-edifying conversation about sixties music. 'I'll probably interact with Muggles tomorrow night,' said Harry afterwards, 'and I'm relieved I'll be less ignorant than last time.'

'I'm sorry I can't expose you to any current bands, but until they come out on vinyl you're out of luck.'

'I should ask Hermione. Her boyfriend Ryan—my teammate—is obsessed with pop music, and it's rubbed off on her.'

'That's good, because Muggles your age will find you a bit weird if you know everything about Nick Drake but haven't heard of Oasis.'

Harry laughed and said, 'If they think that's the weirdest thing about me, I'll be thrilled.'

When Ron arrived the next morning, he immediately asked about Fiona. 'Janet says you're pursuing someone but won't say who it is.'

'That's right,' said Harry simply. 'And how are you today?'

Ron just stared at him. 'Does that mean you're not telling me either?'

Harry laughed and said, 'No, I'll tell you, but please don't tell Janet.'

'Then don't bother, because I'm complete pants at keeping secrets from her.'

'Er, how does that work with your career in law enforcement?'

'It's fine, because she's not interested in the details. She refers to every secret mission as "Operation Glory Hole," and her catch-all name for any Dark wizard we're pursuing is "MacEvilo." So now I use those terms too, which means I can tell her stuff.'

'Have you ever used the wrong name at work?'

Ron looked embarrassed. 'Er, yeah. On Tuesday, Kingsley called me into his briefing with the top brass, including Bode, since I picked up some useful intel during a stakeout the night before. Only I was completely knackered, on account of the stakeout, and I referred to the target as MacEvilo. Which was an honest mistake, since his name's McEwan—that's confidential, by the way.'

'At least you didn't call it Operation Glory Hole,' said Harry, who'd learnt the term from Suresh.

'Actually, I did,' he grimaced. 'Which was entirely my fault, because it's called Operation Grindylow—again, top secret—only Harper and I started calling it the other thing as a joke.'

'Stakeout humour. Didn't they warn us about that?'

'They did, and with good reason. We had to be dead silent for four straight hours, and we couldn't use magic because the building was warded to alert McEwan to any unauthorised charms. Except Harper farted about halfway through, and I couldn't even look at him for the next hour without laughing.'

'I take it you didn't get caught?'

'No, and like I said, we got some good intel. But then as a joke I gave Harper a pair of those fart-silencing underpants Lee and George sell, only Auror Woodbridge saw them, and now he wants to make them standard issue for stakeouts. Which Lee and George think is hilarious, and they're going to offer the Department a steep discount in exchange for the right to rebrand the product "Auror Drawers" with an official DMLE logo. But there's no way Bode will go for it.'

Chuckling, Harry said, 'And to think, I mightn't have been the only one endorsing underwear.'

Ron laughed and said, 'Maybe when you're all washed up and they stop running your adverts, you can endorse fart-silencing pants instead. And before you object, you should know they block the smell.'

'Why didn't you say so earlier?' joked Harry. 'That sounds much more lucrative than my current gig.'

'I'm sure it is,' said Ron. 'By the way, does the company have a name yet?'

'Yeah,' said Harry, making a face. 'London Underground.'

Puzzled, Ron said, 'Like the Muggle transport system?'

'Yes. Not my idea. Apparently they wanted a name with "London" or "UK," since the English have a reputation overseas for being posh.'

'We do?' exclaimed Ron. 'Have they met any English people?'

'I know, right? But I think it's a holdover from colonialism, which makes it even worse. Like, "Look at me, I'm Lord Harry Potter-Black with my superior English underpants! God save the Queen!"'

'But then why did they name it after a train? I've ridden in it, and it's all right, I guess, but it's not exactly what I'd call posh.'

'Randall says it's a play on words, since "underground" also refers to the resistance during a war, and a lot of wizards won't have heard of the trains. And it's also close to the word "underwear."'

'Good point. And then there's the train-in-a-tunnel image,' said Ron. 'I take it back—it's a pretty good name, as long as your customers never come here and discover what the English are really like.'

'Like at the Spyglass after a long match?'

'For example. Will you go there this afternoon?'

'Merlin, yes! Darren is bringing Luna, and I need to witness that.'

Ron's jaw dropped. 'Luna Lovegood?'

'What, didn't Janet tell you? Darren and Luna hooked up at the party, and now they're dating.'

Still gaping, Ron said, 'Blimey! I thought Hermione dating Ryan Bellamy was surprising, not to mention you and Lydia Travers. But clearly I have no imagination, because I wouldn't have come up with Luna dating Darren Rogers in ... well, ever.'

'I know, but he's really into her. And I can kind of see why, since she's a lot more interesting than his usual partners.'

'C-squareds, you mean?' Harry nodded, and Ron said, 'I guess so. That doesn't really describe Janet or Hermione, though, so I can't speak from experience.'

Harry was reluctant to point out Ron's glaring omission. 'Er, I think you're forgetting someone,' he began.

For a moment Ron looked confused, but then his face went ashen. 'Fuck, I completely forgot Lavender ... I'm such an arsehole.'

'It was a long time ago,' said Harry.

'A lifetime ago,' sighed Ron. 'Literally, in your case. But seriously, I shouldn't forget her like that. And yeah, she was a bit of a C-squared—or would have been, if she'd lived. But she was also Gryffindor to the core.'

'That she was.' After a silence, Harry said, 'If I hadn't gone to the funeral, I'd probably just kid myself she was still alive. Same with Colin Creevey.'

'I do kid myself,' Ron admitted. 'I barely saw her that final year, except right before the battle. So it's easier just to imagine she's off somewhere else. America, maybe—she used to talk about wanting to go to New York.'

He had a faraway look as he spoke, and Harry didn't interrupt, knowing that Ron almost never talked about Lavender. 'We were both virgins,' he continued. 'She had some dirty books, but otherwise we had no idea what we were doing. Caught on quickly, though. Of course, by the end I was picturing Hermione—it's a good thing Lavender wasn't a Legilimens, or else I'd be dead too.' Ron was chuckling, and he said, 'She'd have loved the way things are now—the "Harry Potter era of decadence." Once she got over the shock that you were capable of having fun, she'd have name-dropped you right and left. Not to show off, mind you, but to start a conversation.'

Imitating Lavender, Ron said, '"Is that a holly wand? It looks just like Harry Potter's wand—we were in Gryffindor together, so I saw it all the time! Yeah, we met on our first day of school. He was so shy back then, and he'd barely seen magic before. But you could tell he was going to be famous, even without You-Know-Who. Some people just have star quality, you know? People have said that about me, but I think they were just trying to get into my knickers, ha ha!"'

Ron sighed heavily. 'I saw her body, after the battle. I don't know why I looked, but I think I needed to see for myself. It's probably a good thing she died, because Greyback really tore her up, and she would have hated that. With Bill it's no big deal—everyone's looking at Fleur anyway—but Lav was way worse. That's my only consolation, knowing she's better off.'

After another silence, he said, 'Janet's asked me about her a couple times, but all I said was that we dated for a few months during sixth year and she died in the Battle of Hogwarts. And then I change the subject. Because really, what's the point? I can't exactly tell Janet the truth: that I mostly used Lavender to get my rocks off and make Hermione jealous. And I definitely can't tell her about that gaudy necklace she gave me for Christmas.'

'"My Sweetheart,"' said Harry, chuckling. 'Do you still have it?'

'Er, yeah. I honestly don't know what to do with it. I considered placing it in her grave, at the funeral, but that seemed a little cold—like I was tossing it back or something.'

'Yeah, I get it. And you can't exactly give it to Janet, can you?'

'Can you imagine? She'd probably make me wear it, in everlasting tribute to Lav's memory.' With a fond smile, Ron said, 'If Janet gave me a necklace like that, I'd think it was hilarious. Because we'd both be in on the joke, unlike me and Lavender. God, that's one of the things I love about Janet ... she's as smart as Hermione in her own way, and one of the funniest people I've ever met. She drives me mental sometimes, but only because she has great brass clankers when it comes to making a joke. Where other people would back off, Janet doubles down.'

'Like when she used Cosmetic Charms on you at Sunday dinner?' asked Harry.

'That was nothing. We went to a Muggle restaurant a few weeks ago, and she secretly cast a jinx in advance that forced me to speak in an over-the-top Italian accent.'

'Oh dear. You don't exactly look Italian.'

'No, I don't. Although the waiter gave me the benefit of the doubt and started speaking Italian to me. Did I mention this was a pizzeria?'

'You did not.'

'It was. And of course I couldn't understand him, so now I just look like some dick who's making fun of Italians. And Janet kept telling me to knock it off, but I couldn't, so she tried getting the waiter's sympathy for having such a dickish boyfriend. He actually gave her his phone number with the bill, and to make matters worse, it was my turn to pay, so I look like a complete git paying to have the waiter steal my girlfriend. Oh, and I'm still speaking in an Italian accent the whole time.'

'Did you get revenge afterwards?'

'There's no point, because she'd just escalate. But trust me, she always makes it up to me. And she gets me laughing about it in no time.'

Harry had been signing photographs, but he put down his quill and leaned back in his chair. 'When you were working up the nerve to break up with Hermione, did you have a mental image of what you were looking for in a partner? Besides better alchemy, that is?'

Ron shook his head. 'No, not at all. Wait, that's not quite true—I had an idea involving one or more of Fleur's cousins, but I never got to the personality part. And I'm glad it turned out like this, because Janet's better than I could have imagined.'

'That's just it,' said Harry, thinking of Fiona. 'The witch I'm pursuing is nothing like what I'd have imagined, if I'd bothered imagining my perfect partner. But god, she's everything I never knew I wanted.'

'Have you fallen in love already?' asked Ron with surprise.

'Not quite, but near to it. I really hope she'll go out with me—and be willing to be seen together. Because I'm just wild about her, and I want everyone to know it.'

Ron raised one eyebrow and said, 'You've really got over your fear of public attention, haven't you?'

'Yes. And I owe it all to Rita, because she ripped away all my secrets. Which means when I do have a secret, like with Fiona, I can't wait to reveal it.'

'Fiona? Is that her name?'

'Bugger, I shouldn't have said that. But yes, it is.'

'Fiona ...' said Ron, searching his memory. 'She's Owen's mate! The one you called a "fit bird" and said you'd owl after Helena dumped you!'

'Well done, Auror Weasley' said Harry sourly. 'But can you keep it a secret from Janet?'

'I can try. Does that mean she's Owen's age?'

'She's a year older, actually. The same age Tonks would have been.'

'And she's not married?'

Harry explained that she was a widow with a child. 'I think she likes me, but I need to convince her I'm sincere.'

'Are you?' asked Ron. 'I mean, obviously you fancy her, but you're a lot more casual with witches than you used to be. And I hate to say it, but maybe you're this interested because she's actually a challenge.'

'Merlin, I hope not,' exclaimed Harry. But he remembered how he'd felt with his arm around her in the back garden. 'No, it's not just the challenge. And I could never hurt her.' He felt a wave of affection and wondered if she'd received his letter yet.

'Then I wish you luck,' said Ron, in a tone Harry knew was sincere. 'And I'll vouch for you if you want. Once I got used to you and Ginny together, I couldn't fault how you treated her.'

'Cheers. And I may take you up on that, if she's still keeping me at arm's length after Hallowe'en.' Harry had set an internal deadline of the WORF gala the following Sunday. God, I hope I don't have to wait that long, he thought with a surge of desire.

He did his best not to think about her at practice before the match, but it wasn't easy. She'll definitely have read my letter by now, and maybe even posted a reply. Part of him feared she'd ask him to stop, but he was mostly looking forward to seeing her on Sunday, even if Teddy would require most of his attention. She'll see that I'm good with kids, he thought, and he hoped Matthew would like him. They'd got on fine that night at Owen's house, several weeks earlier, but that was before Harry began to consider becoming his stepfather, or near to it.

During lunch he asked Owen if she'd said anything. 'I haven't seen her this week—she's working hard on the gala—but Jill brought her dinner last night and Fiona showed her your letter.'

'Which one?'

'Er, I think you said something about how this isn't your standard procedure. She wanted to know if that was true.'

'And what did Jill say?'

'She said I thought you were sincere, but that I'd needed some convincing first.'

Harry sighed in relief. 'Does she think Fiona likes me, or does she just see me as a kid?'

'She's a bit overwhelmed, I think. And no, she doesn't see you as just a kid—she knows you were forced to grow up faster than most people your age. But that doesn't mean she's ready to dive right in.'

'Right. So, stay the course?'

'That's what Jill says, but I make no promises.'

Before flying into Appleby Stadium that afternoon, Harry set a strong intention not to think about Fiona, and he renewed it several times during the match. Julian Barnwistle, the Arrows Seeker, did a better job keeping up with Harry's feints, unlike their match in July, when Harry had caught him off guard. But Harry no longer needed the element of surprise, and after nearly two months of practice against Gemma, his flying was unbeatable. And his well-honed attention and awareness enabled him to spot the Snitch effortlessly.

'Cannons win, 310–100!' cried the announcer, and Harry's teammates mobbed him in the air. After his victory lap, Darren told him, 'You're downright predictable. It's fantastic!'

'Cheers,' said Harry, elated over the match. Barnwistle congratulated him when he landed and said, 'My money's on you for the national team. And I even have tickets for your match against Routledge.'

'How is that possible?' asked Harry. 'Don't you have a match at the same time?'

'No, we play the night before. But it mightn't have mattered, because they'll probably push your match to four o'clock, so more people can listen.'

'Really? Is that common?'

'It's rare but not unheard of. And it'll be late November, so you'll be flying in low light.'

'Bugger,' said Harry. 'It could be a long night.'

When reporters were allowed on the pitch, they confirmed what Barnwistle told him. 'They just announced that the season finale against Puddlemere has been pushed to four o'clock,' said a reporter. 'Is there anything you'd like to tell Phil Routledge in advance?'

'Just that he's a fantastic Seeker, and it'll be great fun to fly against him.'

'Do you want to fly for England?'

'Yes, it's been my dream ever since I saw the World Cup Final in '94. But I hopefully have a long career ahead of me, and I'll be glad to wait my turn.'

'Don't you think you're ready?'

'I couldn't say. That's for the team organisers to decide.'

'What about the concern you'll be a prima donna?' asked another reporter.

'You'd have to ask my teammates about that. Oi, Lindhurst!' he called to Janet. 'Am I a prima donna?'

'Yes, he's awful,' she told the reporters. 'He needs a long pep talk before every match where we tell him he's the greatest Seeker ever and the tallest Cannon and definitely not slutty because that only describes women.' The reporters were laughing, and she said, 'And he makes everyone call him Lord Potter-Black and walk three steps behind him, except for the two house-elves throwing rose petals in his path. Is that everything, Snitchbottom, or did I miss something?'

'Snitchbottom?' said several reporters.

'Oops!' said Janet. 'There's my mum—I'd better go.'

She strolled away, her mother nowhere in sight, leaving Harry to explain his nickname. Which gave Renée the opportunity to say that he wasn't a prima donna and that the national team would be lucky to have him. 'The real question,' she said, 'is whether the other players would accept him. Because he'll draw more attention than everyone else combined, which they mightn't appreciate.'

'What about you, Bellamy?' asked a reporter. 'Would you play for England if asked?'

'I'd be honoured to,' said Ryan, and the reporters peppered him with questions, allowing Harry to escape.

Invited guests had arrived on the pitch, and Harry was about to greet Theo and his flatmates when Luna caught his eye. Darren must have seen her at the same moment, because he grabbed Harry's arm and said, 'Is she supposed to be some kind of ... tree?'

'Er, I think so. But I honestly don't know.'

They approached her together and saw that her legs and feet were indeed rootlike, and her torso was a sort of shapely trunk. Her hair was still blond, but it was interwoven with leafy vines, and green veins of chlorophyll extended from her hairline and the sides of her face. Harry just stared at her, but Darren let out a low moan and said, 'Sweet Merlin, I want her!'

They met and he lifted her into a passionate embrace, and when she wrapped her arms and legs around him, roots entwined them both. When they stopped kissing, Darren said, 'Oh my god, what are you supposed to be?'

'I'm a Dryad,' she said, as if it were obvious, and Harry supposed it was.

'But why?' asked Darren. 'Not that I'm complaining, mind you.'

'Because a Dryad crafted the first broomstick.'

Harry frowned and said, 'From her own body?'

'Yes. Tithorea was originally a cloud nymph, and like all clouds she loved flying,' said Luna dreamily. 'One day Zeus was traversing the heavens in his chariot, and he saw Tithorea and desired her. So they made love and she became pregnant. But Zeus's wife Hera was jealous, and she punished Tithorea by turning her into a Dryad and making her son mortal. Zeus couldn't undo the mortal part, but he was at least able to make him a wizard.

'Tithorea's son grew up, and she adored him, but she was heartbroken he couldn't fly. So she prayed to Zeus to turn her body into an instrument of flight, which he did. And that was the first broomstick.'

Darren had set Luna back down, but they were still a tangle of roots and vines. 'Is that true,' he asked, wide-eyed.

'I like to think so,' she said, and Darren kissed her again. Harry, meanwhile, wondered whether she would cancel the spells before going to the Spyglass or turn up looking like a tree. I vote tree, he thought hopefully.

Theo and his mates found him, and they congratulated him on the match. 'What on earth possessed you to invite Draco to a Muggle nightclub?' asked Theo.

'He needed a distraction, after the disaster with Catherine White,' said Harry. 'And it'll be hilarious, watching him try to pull Muggles.'

'Poor Draco,' said Theo with a chuckle. 'He really wasn't brought up for the era you've ushered in. Neither was I, of course, but I like to think I'm a bit more self-aware.'

'You'll always have my respect for not taking the Mark,' replied Harry. Lowering his voice, he asked, 'How do you think I'm doing with him? It seems like we're friends now, but I honestly have no idea whether he feels the same way.'

Theo asked his flatmates to give them privacy, then said, 'He'll always resent you. And he still insults you behind your back.'

'No, he insults me to my face as well,' said Harry, and Theo laughed.

After a pause, he said, 'He thinks he's manipulating you. And not without reason—you reduced his sentence, gave him back his wand, and generally cleared his reputation.'

Harry sighed. So I've been fooling myself after all, he thought sadly.

'But he's wrong,' continued Theo. 'You're manipulating him so well you probably don't even realise you're doing it. He certainly doesn't.'

'Oh?'

'Look at it this way: He's heard about you his entire life, mostly from his father, but from everyone else as well. When we were kids, long before Hogwarts, we used to speculate about what you'd be like, and whether we ought to be friends with you. On the one hand, you defeated the Dark Lord, so that made you our enemy. On the other hand, you did it as a baby, which implied you were unbelievably powerful.'

'I wasn't,' interjected Harry, but Theo just waved him silent.

'Yes, of course—your mother's sacrifice. But we didn't know that back then. So even though our families called you the filthy son of a Mudblood and a middle-class blood traitor, we were still completely fascinated with you and determined to be your friend. But then Draco cocked things up on day one, and you were Sorted into Gryffindor, which meant friendship was out of the question.'

'And the rest is history,' said Harry dryly.

'No, you're leaving out what happened next,' said Theo. 'When it became clear we weren't going to be friends with the Boy Who Lived, most of us just moved on. But for some reason Draco was still obsessed with you—probably because of his father. I'd almost call it a crush, although you're not his type. But it had the same kind of intensity.'

Harry thought about the crushes he'd had, including his current one on Fiona, and he tried imagining Draco in that light. 'I was the same way, I think. Probably not as bad, since I had a lot else on my mind. But yeah, I was weirdly obsessed with him too.'

'I'm not surprised. But returning to the present, Draco has two options where you're concerned: He can either be consumed by jealousy, or he can accept your friendship. Initially he opted for jealousy, particularly after you joined the Cannons. But then you cleverly stroked his ego by giving back his wand and so forth, which means he gets to be best mates with the Boy Who Lived, just like he always wanted. And furthermore, he'll do anything to keep your friendship now that he has it, which is how you're drawing him deeper into your camp without even trying.'

Theo looked pleased with himself, as if he'd successfully performed a complicated series of charms. Harry said, 'I'm glad you don't think I've been duped, but you make it sound like he's going to start wearing flowers or something.'

'Not bloody likely,' said Theo. 'But again, you were clever to give him a harmless way to insult you.'

Astonished, Harry ran a hand through his hair, which reminded him he needed to shower. 'Does it count as Slytherin behaviour if I'm mostly doing it unwittingly?'

'Yes, because Slytherin is all about results, which you're clearly getting.'

After Tuttle's notes and a much-needed shower, Harry joined his teammates at the Cracked Spyglass. He was greeted as usual with loud cheers, and someone shoved a pint glass at him, but another wizard said, 'Oi, Potter—who's the tree? People are saying she's a friend of yours.'

Harry followed the wizard's gaze to Luna, who was in a booth with Darren. 'Yes, that's my good friend Luna. She's a war hero, believe it or not.'

'I'll be jiggered! Does she always look like that?'

No, sometimes she wears butterbeer corks or radish earrings, thought Harry. 'That was just for today's match,' he said. 'It's a tribute to the dryad who crafted the first broomstick. She gave her own body for it, according to legend.'

Harry immediately regretted providing that detail, which unleashed a string of rude comments about 'Darren's wood' and 'Riding the dryad.' He quickly excused himself and found a seat with Ron and Janet.

'So it's a widow you fancy!' she said accusingly.

'Ron!' cried Harry. 'You weren't going to tell her!'

'Sorry, mate. She can be very persuasive.'

'Janet, please don't tell anyone,' he implored. 'She's very skittish, and she'll never date me if she gets harassed by the press first.'

'Don't worry, Snitchbottom—I'd never betray your secrets.'

'Like my team nickname?' he said archly.

'It was yearning to be free,' she argued. 'And won't it be splendid next weekend to arrive at the Spyglass, Snitch in hand, and be greeted by a lively chorus of "Snitchbottoms?"'

Harry just took a long draught from his pint, and Janet resumed her conversation with Ron. He'd managed to avoid thinking about Fiona during the match, but she was once again dominating his thoughts. She's probably written back to me by now, he thought impatiently, but he resolved to stay for half an hour signing autographs. Several fans brought the drawing of him in drag, including a young wizard wearing eye makeup. 'Will you keep wearing makeup?' asked the wizard. 'It looked fantastic!'

'I doubt it,' said Harry, explaining he already got into enough trouble.

'Then the rest of us will have to,' he said, with a wink. 'I was already doing it in Muggle settings, but never in front of wizards until this week. So cheers!'

Harry went home soon after, and he was pleased to find a letter from Fiona. Taking a deep breath, he opened it.

Dear Harry,

It's a good thing you sent those stickers for Matthew, because they're keeping him busy while I recover from your letter. Or maybe 'recover' is the wrong word, because you've taken my breath away, and I'm not sure I want it back.

You are, without a doubt, the cheekiest wizard I've ever met, and dangerously charming. I'm still astonished by your interest in me, but Jill assures me it's genuine. My heart tells me the same thing, but my mind keeps interfering and pointing out that you couldn't possibly want someone as old and moody as I am.

My heart argues that you already know I'm moody (or even bitter, truth be told), and that I'm a twenty-six year-old mum, with everything that entails. But my mind still insists you've fallen for a fantasy version of me, and not the complicated reality. So to placate said mind, I'm going to show you Complicated Fiona tomorrow afternoon. I won't be dressed for a party or even for work, and my hair will probably be a fright. I might be short with Matthew, who's lovely but frequently tries my patience, as children do. And I'll definitely speak my mind, which I've probably done already, but consider yourself warned.

If you still want me after that, then I'll grant you a moment alone. But not more than that yet, since my mind (which you claim to admire) will need time to adjust. And in answer to your question, please continue revealing one reason per letter. As with chocolates, I prefer to savour them slowly in private.

As a show of good faith, I'll share something I like about you: Your lack of veneer. Which is an odd thing to say about Britain's best-dressed wizard, but I don't get the sense you're trying to impress anyone. You appear to be entirely yourself, without fear of what people think. I'm sure you got there the hard way, but I admire it tremendously.

I will now perform an anti-hyperventilation charm and start paying attention to Matthew (who's absolutely mad about dragons).

Yours sincerely,
Fiona

P.S.: Was that a raven?

Harry heart soared as he read and reread her letter. She likes me! he thought, feeling more than ever like a kid with a crush. He started imagining their moment alone (Outdoors? Or in an unoccupied room?), and he wondered just how long a 'moment' was. He'd already decided which gift to send—something for all the kids to enjoy—but he was tempted to send flowers as well. Or bring them, he thought, anticipating her look of surprise.

He was almost annoyed he had to go out that night. I'm supposed to have a pulling competition with Draco, but how can I even look at another woman when Fiona likes me? he thought, still bursting with joy.