As had become his habit, Harry wrote his daily letter to Fiona while still in bed.

To my cherished Fiona,

You will be horrified to learn that I found a book in the family library called The Epistolary Arts, which provided the excessively formal salutation above. It was clearly a favourite of previous generations of Blacks, and I could probably reconstruct their correspondence habits based on which sections fall open most readily. 'Addressing Social Inferiors' seems to have been popular, which initially surprised me—I wouldn't have thought it necessary to consult an etiquette manual when writing to someone you thought beneath you. But the section provides numerous ways for expressing contempt, including uniquely wizarding insults about Blood Status, magical strength, and even the number of house-elves the recipient commands.

The Blacks also frequented the section on courtship, specifically of the 'consanguineous' variety. Did you know that there are special rules for love letters written to cousins? And they vary depending on the degree of relationship, and even whether the writer and recipient have the same surname. For example, if you and I were second cousins but shared a surname, I would address you with the same familiarity as if we were first cousins but with different surnames. Although the rules get complicated depending on whose branch is considered superior, and there's even a chart in the appendix, which someone helpfully dog-eared.

It took some effort to find the instructions for writing smutty letters, or at least the old-timey equivalent, but I don't give up easily, and a spell I learnt from one of my teammates revealed the naughty chapter. Which, I might add, clearly saw a lot of traffic, based on the number of notes in the margins. One methodical wizard wrote dates and initials next to his favourite passages, presumably to keep track of an impressively long career of postal smut. I'm afraid most of it is too smarmy even for me, but just say the word and I'll produce volumes in praise of your 'quivering folds.'

It would be both appalling and premature to make them today's reason for why I fancy you, so I'll write instead about your hands. They drew my notice at the noodle restaurant, when you deftly used chopsticks—a skill I lack. Your fingers are long, with the nails trimmed to a practical length, and it's clear you wouldn't be lost without your wand, as so many wizards are. Furthermore, I suspect you're good at brewing, and Owen tells me you're a great cook (alas, I was only a middling brewer, and all I know how to cook is breakfast). But I've been praised for my manual dexterity, which I look forward to demonstrating.

Quidditch calls, so I'll wrap up by saying how excited I am to see you this evening. And finally, a closing valediction from The Epistolary Arts:

Yours in ardent admiration,
Harry

He posted it with Lysander, along with that morning's gift. I can't wait to send her flowers at work, he thought, and he wondered just how far overboard he could go once their relationship was public.

To Harry's surprise, Darren had emerged as a romantic ally, since he too was head over heels. 'I say pull out all the stops. I'd be doing the same, only Luna says she prefers picking flowers herself, in case of Nargles.'

'At least you don't need to worry about spooking her,' said Harry as they ran around the pitch. 'Luna doesn't have normal expectations, so as long as you're nice to her, there's no risk you'll do the wrong thing.'

'I know, and what a relief!' exclaimed Darren. 'Romilda, on the other hand, was a bloody minefield—she could read meaning into anything. Like the time I left her a note and signed it "D" instead of "Darren."'

Harry was puzzled. 'What was that supposed to mean?'

'That we'd advanced to the next level, apparently. The next time I saw her she kept going on about how romantic I was, and that she hadn't dreamt I'd want to get serious so quickly. I had no idea what she was on about, but she'd bought a new bra and knickers to celebrate, so I just played along. Eventually I realised it was because of how I'd signed that letter, since she made a point of leaving little notes in my flat and signing them "R."'

'How did you undo the damage?'

'Hints. A metric fucktonne of hints. But she took it all right—she enjoys sex as much as anyone, and after school started she'd never have survived without conjugal visits. And I couldn't just turn up at Hogwarts all the time like you did, seeing as how I never went there in the first place.'

'Right, you went to Blockhurst, same as Fiona,' mused Harry. 'Did you know her?'

'No, she was some years ahead of me. But I remember her husband, even though he was the same age. It was a big deal when he got a job with the DOM right out of school. Not that they announced it or anything—there's a reason they're called Unspeakables. But everyone knew.'

'What did people say about him?'

'That he was a genius. He was from an old family—the kind that attended Hogwarts way back when—and some people said he'd got the job only because of his connections. But my Arithmancy professor overheard someone repeating that, and she set us straight. She said Rob Dunning may have had connections, but he understood magic better than anyone she'd ever taught, and that the DOM was lucky to have him.'

Harry couldn't hide his shock. 'You took Arithmancy?'

'Yeah, the hottest girl in my year signed up, so I did as well. That's also why I took a summer elective course about poetry.'

'That's hard to picture. Did you like it?'

'Some of it, yeah. In fact, maybe I should send Luna a poem—I bet she'd go for it.'

'You're probably right,' said Harry. 'And well done, defying expectations.'

During practice, Gemma was taunted more than Harry for a change. He didn't participate, but the other Cannons ribbed her mercilessly, and Gary even made insinuations about them. 'Hey, Rees,' he shouted, 'what's the story between you and Potter?'

'I'm starting on Saturday and he isn't,' she retorted. 'Next question?'

'Right—there are three possible explanations for that. One is that you're sleeping together, and this is his way of saying thanks. The next is that he's trying to get into your knickers, and this is to soften you up. And the third is that he rejected you, and this is the consolation prize.'

Harry couldn't see Gemma's expression, but he heard her reply. 'You left out the actual reason, which is that I'm a damn good flyer and the fans want to see me.'

'I doubt it. In fact, I heard some fans are upset, because they bought tickets hoping to see Harry but they're stuck with you.'

'Yeah, your wife said something similar after reading Sorceress.'

'Nice one!' laughed Gary. 'You'll do great on Saturday!'

No one was able to rattle her that morning, and she privately told Harry how it felt. 'Mostly I didn't care what they said, but occasionally it hurt. The funny thing, though, was that the hurt only lasted a moment. For a second I'd think, "Fuck you, I have feelings too!" but then it was over, and I was ready to fire back. Honestly, it was kind of fun, watching myself react like I used to, but then shrug it off.'

'Well done! I assume it's the Light magic?'

'Yeah, I think so. I'm sure I couldn't have handled this before your party.'

Smirking, Harry said, 'Then again, perhaps you're being hasty. What if it was actually the tiara?'

'Oh my god, you're right! It was the Black family tiara all along! I should have known it would bestow blessings on the first Muggle-born it ever encountered.'

'Interesting ... I'm sure Hermione would want to test this theory somehow. Who should I loan it to next?'

'I take it Fiona's not interested?'

'She's not Muggle-born,' he said. 'Although I'd love to see her in it, dressed to the nines.'

Gemma studied him and said, 'Are you sure you can't demand an audience with the Queen? She owes you, after all.'

'Bad idea,' said Harry. 'I'm sure I'd make some catastrophic faux pas.'

'True enough. And even if you didn't, you'd probably be photographed, thanks to your uncanny charisma, and the tabloids would speculate about you. And then you'd lose your one bastion of anonymity, and your life would be ruined. So, no tiara for Fiona. But what about Lisa?'

'Lisa Black?'

'Yeah. I'm sure she'd look great in it, and besides, she's got the surname. In fact, you should establish a lending library from the family vault for all those cousins you need to marry off. Isn't that one of your responsibilities as Head of House?'

Harry was about to dismiss her suggestion, but he realised she might be right. 'Bugger, I have no idea. I should ask Andromeda.'

'Or ask Lisa directly—I'm sure she'd have an opinion. In fact, you can do it today, seeing as you're eating with the reserves.'

'Good idea,' said Harry weakly. He hadn't seen Lisa since his party, when he'd backed out of spending the night together. But he feared it would get more awkward the longer they waited. So, when the reserves discussed where to eat, he proposed the Black Olive.

'Are you trying to throw off the bookmakers?' asked Lyle. 'After last night, I'm sure there's rampant speculation on who your new girlfriend is.'

Harry groaned, wishing he and Fiona could just go public. 'No, I just haven't been there in a while, and I fancy a sandwich.'

The shop was crowded when they arrived, but he spotted Elliott Black at his usual table, and Harry assumed Lisa would turn up on schedule. The queue advanced quickly, now that Flauby was in the kitchen, and there seemed to be no shortage of baguettes.

After a friendly chat with Marvin, who was working behind the counter, Harry approached Elliott. 'Hi, may I join you?'

'Harry! What a pleasant surprise—how are you?'

Harry sat down, and they caught up for a few minutes. 'I have a family question,' he said, 'but it's primarily for Lisa and the other young witches.'

'Then it's a good thing you're here today, because her schedule might change next week.'

'Oh?'

'Didn't she tell you? She got the job at St Mungo's.'

'No, but that's great news,' said Harry, a little hurt not to have heard it directly. He was starting to regret turning up without advance notice.

Lisa arrived soon after. 'Well, hello! I didn't expect to see you here.'

'I'm sorry, I should have warned you.'

'Nonsense,' she said brightly. 'It's a pleasant surprise.'

He congratulated her on the job, and they quickly regained their usual ease of conversation. I liked her for a reason, he thought, although he no longer felt the accompanying desire. I really am mad for Fiona, he realised.

Their sandwiches arrived, and he eventually raised Gemma's question. 'You'll probably laugh, but Gemma pointed out that you and your cousins might want to borrow jewellery from the family vault, for special occasions. Do you think any of them would be interested?'

'I don't know ... what have you got?'

Harry tried to remember what he'd seen. 'Well, there's the tiara of course. A lot of other stuff, but some of it was really old-fashioned, so I don't know if you'd like it.'

'Oh my god, this is perfect! I've been invited to a Hallowe'en party on Saturday, and I hadn't decided what to wear, but this decides it: I'll go as Walburga.'

'Yes!' blurted Harry, drawing stares. Lowering his voice, he added, 'How can I help? Obviously jewellery, but what else?'

Her eyes lit with excitement. 'You don't have her old clothes, do you?'

'What a horrible thought! I have no idea—my wardrobe was empty when I took over the room. But hang on, I'll ask Kreacher.'

Kreacher, he called silently. Are you there?

Harry was startled as usual by the sudden pop in his mind. Yes, Master! How may Kreacher be of service?

Er, this is a weird question, but are any of Walburga's clothes still in the house?

He felt a distinct mental chill. Yes, Master.

Where are they? asked Harry.

Kreacher looks after them.

Harry imagined a shrine in the attic, where Kreacher slept, and he was reluctant to press him on the topic. But Lisa was looking hopefully at him, so he ventured one more question. Might I have a look? Lisa Black wants to borrow something old-fashioned to wear.

Kreacher softened considerably when Harry mentioned Lisa. Yes, of course, the elf replied cheerfully. Shall Kreacher assist with her toilette?

Harry bit his lips to keep from laughing. Good question—I'll ask her. 'Lisa,' he said aloud. 'I have good news and better news. The good news is that Kreacher still has her clothes, probably on an altar somewhere. And the better news is that he's offered to "assist with your toilette."'

She burst out laughing and said, 'That's terribly kind, but I'm sure Plouche can handle it.'

Harry relayed that to Kreacher, who became fierce again. Not Plouche. Only Kreacher is permitted to handle Mistress's clothing.

Smirking, Harry said, 'Sorry, it has to be Kreacher. Is that all right?'

'That would be fantastic,' she said. 'Please thank him for me.'

They made plans for her to visit that evening after practice, before his date with Fiona. He was relieved their friendship had apparently survived their abortive hookup, and he agreed that dressing up as Walburga would be hilarious. They wrapped up their conversation, and he spent the rest of the meal with his teammates.

'Well done, adding fuel to the "Lisa Black is your secret girlfriend" fire,' said Elspeth. 'And you already bolstered the Gemma theory last night, so you're definitely keeping the bookmakers on their toes.'

'How did I bolster the Gemma theory?'

'When you said you'd liked your new girlfriend from the start but had good reasons not to actually date. But then you said you're throwing caution to the wind because life's too short. Ergo, Gemma.'

Harry nervously asked his teammates, 'You don't believe that, do you?'

Several of them started laughing. 'No, you're not that subtle,' said Lyle. 'We'd undoubtedly have caught you in the act by now.'

The practice match that afternoon was particularly hard-fought, and Harry won after a spectacular chase. Gemma, who had been imperturbable during the match, was scowling afterwards. 'I haven't beaten you once this week,' she grumbled. 'Tuttle's going to change her mind for sure.'

'No, she isn't,' said Owen. 'Harry's hard to beat, and you can definitely outfly Underhill.

She took a deep breath. 'You're right, I can,' said Gemma with determination. 'I just need to take things up a notch.'

'Careful, you don't want to risk over-focussing.'

'Don't worry, I won't. I have some ideas for tomorrow, actually. Toffer, are you up for a rematch?'

'Always,' said Harry, relieved she'd become so resilient.

When he got home he sent Lodie for Lisa, and his cousin arrived soon after. 'All right,' she said, 'let's see what your grandmum used to wear.'

'Adopted grandmum!' protested Harry. 'And you're the one who looks like her.'

'Maybe, but you'll always be her favourite.'

They went up to the landing near Harry's room, and he called for Kreacher. 'Are Walburga's clothes in the attic, or somewhere else?'

'They are in Mistress's wardrobe,' replied Kreacher.

Harry was lost. 'Do you mean my wardrobe?'

'No, Master. Mistress's wardrobe. In Master's bedroom.'

Puzzled, Harry allowed Kreacher to lead them into the bedroom, where he entered the wardrobe. 'Er, that's my clothing.'

But Kreacher didn't reply, and he walked to the rear of the wardrobe, where he lay a wrinkled hand on the back wall. To Harry's astonishment, the wall slid open, revealing a much larger chamber.

'Sweet Merlin,' he exclaimed, and Lisa's eyes grew wide.

'Did you know this room existed?' she asked.

'I had no idea,' he murmured, looking around. Unlike his bedroom, which was dark like the rest of the house, the inner wardrobe was vast and airy, and he was reminded of the family magic Lydia had shown him. Only this is moonlight rather than sunlight.

The room was immaculate, without a speck of dust, and Lisa approached an antique dressing table with a large mirror on top. She examined one of the silver hairbrushes, then set it down again.

Kreacher immediately moved the brush a centimetre to the right. 'That's better, just as Mistress always laid it down,' he said reverently. 'At night before bed, Mistress ordered Kreacher to brush her hair, twenty minutes at a time.'

Harry and Lisa exchanged glances, trying desperately not to laugh, as Kreacher gave them a tour of the opulently feminine space. 'These are from Mistress's wedding trousseau,' he announced, opening a drawer to reveal a collection of silken undergarments. 'They were specially made for her by Belgian Squibs, at the Convent of Saint Claire.'

'And they lasted this long?' asked Lisa.

'Yes, because of house-elf magic. Kreacher refreshes the charms every month, on the new moon.'

'Hang on,' said Harry. 'The house was a complete disaster when I first came here, during the war. Are you telling me this room was perfectly maintained the entire time?'

'Yes, Master. Mistress's orders.'

'She ordered you to preserve her wardrobe in perpetuity?' exclaimed Lisa.

Kreacher dodged the question and simply said, 'Mistress treasured her clothes.'

'Just like someone else I know,' said Lisa, with a smirk at Harry. 'I bet you're jealous not to have a wardrobe this big.'

'No, there's still plenty of room in the outer wardrobe,' he said, still transfixed. 'But it's nice to know my future wife and I won't have to fight for space.'

'Yes, I'm sure she'll let you have this section. But let's see some of the clothes.'

Kreacher opened a door, revealing rows of elegant robes. 'Clearly Walburga did her share of squandering,' said Harry, examining a richly-embroidered sleeve.

'Either that, or she earned money on the side as a stripper,' said Lisa, pulling out an ostrich-feather fan. 'Kreacher, is there any jewellery here, or is all the good stuff in the vault?'

'No, Mistress's jewellery returned to the vault upon her death. But Kreacher can show you her favourites.'

He used house-elf magic to produce facsimiles of various items, and Lisa set them on the dressing table so she could peruse the clothes. 'Do you have the outfit she was painted in?'

'Yes, Miss Black,' said Kreacher, and he pulled out a severe black dress.

Lisa examined it and said, 'Lee's right—she definitely kept her figure. I doubt I can even fit into this without altering it.'

'Kreacher can add extension charms,' said the elf proudly. 'As he did for Mistress.'

Grinning, Harry said, 'Walburga used extension charms?'

Lisa shook her head. 'No, they don't work on clothes.'

'They do with house-elf magic,' said Harry excitedly. 'For several hours, anyway.'

'Mistress did not require radical extension charms,' explained Kreacher. 'Just enough to recapture her bridal figure.'

Lisa looked at the alarmingly small waistline. 'I guess that's better than a corset. May I try it on?'

Kreacher looked at Harry for permission, which he granted, and Lisa shooed him to the outer wardrobe while she changed. When he returned, Kreacher had finished his charms, and a wasp-waisted Lisa stood waiting.

'This is hilarious,' she said, nearly encircling her waist in her hands. 'I could have a pint and a platter of chips right now and it wouldn't make a difference. Kreacher, do you remember which jewellery she wore in the portrait?'

He brought her the conjured items, which she put on, and Harry laughed out loud. 'You're younger than Walburga, but everyone will recognise you, particularly if Kreacher does up your hair.'

Lisa sat at the dressing table and Kreacher drew her hair into Walburga's pompadour up-do. Looking in the mirror, she said, 'You've cleverly added more hair than I arrived with—well done.'

Harry couldn't help admiring the result, even though she was a dead ringer for Walburga. I wish Fiona could see this, he thought, knowing she'd be amused. 'You'll be a big hit at that party. It's on Saturday, right?'

'It is. Are you angling for an invitation?'

He'd kept Saturday open, in case Fiona was available, but he suspected she'd be too busy the night before the gala. 'I might be. Kreacher, could you please give us some privacy? And thanks for taking us here—you'll have to show me how you got through the back wall.'

'Yes, Master,' said Kreacher, disappearing with a loud crack.

Harry looked awkwardly at Lisa. 'Are we all right? I still feel bad about what happened at the party.'

She took a deep breath. 'I assume the girlfriend you were talking about on the radio last night was Fiona.'

'It is. We have our first real date tonight, but we're definitely a couple already.' Lisa raised one eyebrow and he said, 'Not like that. So far we've only kissed.'

'She's a lucky witch,' said Lisa wistfully. 'Although I don't envy her the public scrutiny—I've had more than my share already.' Sighing, she said, 'And yes, we're all right. You were honest with me, and that's what's important.'

'I do like you. And obviously I think you're pretty.' After a pause, he said, 'I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you're on the short list for my twenty-first birthday, if things with Fiona don't work out.'

Blushing, she said, 'No, you shouldn't tell me that. And it's probably good you stopped things—I'm starting a new job and don't need everyone gossiping about me. More than they do already, that is. When are you and Fiona planning to go public?'

'Not before Hallowe'en, and possibly much later. But do you need me to clear your name, so people won't jump to conclusions?'

'Tempting, although I'm not sure how you'd go about it, other than not being seen with me. Which is a shame, because I think you'd have a great time at the party on Saturday.'

'But it's fancy dress, right?' said Harry, realising he wanted to attend. 'Maybe I could wear a disguise.'

Lisa's face lit up. 'You could dress as Harry Potter!' she blurted. 'Sorry, Harry Potter-Black.'

'How would that would work? Wouldn't I just look like I'm too stuck up to follow the dress code?'

'No, you're missing the point. We'd transfigure your features a bit—maybe make you taller—but otherwise you'd wear robes and flowers, or a foulard. You'd be hidden in plain sight!'

Harry began imagining the possibilities. 'That could work. But what about my voice? It's probably well known, because of the radio.'

'Take a potion. It's hard to magically imitate a specific voice, but you can easily make your voice sound different.'

He ran a hand through his hair as he considered it, and Lisa laughed. 'The giveaway might be your mannerisms, although most people haven't seen you in person.' After a pause, she said, 'But if you exaggerate them, it would look like imitation.'

'Like this, you mean?' said Harry, deliberately messing up his hair.

'Perfect! And you have to chat up witches right and left!'

'Er, I have a girlfriend, remember?'

'I didn't say you should succeed—all I said is you should chat them up.'

'Poorly, you mean?'

Her mouth curled in amusement. 'Complete and total ineptitude. Absolutely pathetic.'

Harry tried to imagine what he'd say. '"Hey baby, do you want to see my Silver Arrow?"'

Chuckling, she said, 'That's a start. Or maybe something about Voldemort, only you have to call him "You-Know-Who."'

'"Well, hello there, gorgeous! Yeah, I defeated You-Know-Who—no big deal, really. How about I put my You-Know-What in your You-Know-Where?"' he said, waggling his eyebrows.

'Yes, perfect!' she laughed. 'Will you come, then?'

'Yeah, I think so. Unless Fiona wants to do something instead.' He looked at his pocket watch and said, 'On that note, I should leave soon.'

They made tentative plans for Saturday, and she wished him luck on his date. 'Are you meeting her somewhere or picking her up?'

'I'm going to her house first, and then to a Muggle restaurant.'

Lisa smirked and said, 'A Galleon says you never leave the house.'

'I hope you're wrong! Her mum will be there, looking after her little boy.'

'Have you met said boy and mum?'

'Yes to boy, no to mum. And yes, I'm nervous.'

'Don't worry,' Lisa assured him. 'She can't possibly be worse than Walburga. Perverted half-blood! Degenerate usurper!'

Harry laughed and said, 'You are going to be fighting off the blokes on Saturday. The ones who get off on verbal abuse, anyway.'

'Oh dear. Are we sure this is a good idea?'

'Absolutely! See you later, Gran!'

Harry dashed from the secret inner wardrobe and washed up before heading to Fiona's house. All he had was her Floo address—Everbrook—so he didn't know what to expect. The 'brook' implied a country setting, and Owen had said it came from her husband's family. You'll see it soon enough, he supposed.

He tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the grate and was whisked through a long series of fireplaces, which suggested she lived somewhere out of the way. He emerged into a surprisingly spacious lounge, or even a drawing room. It wasn't formal, nor was it anything like the drawing room at Grimmauld Place or Malfoy Manor, but it was far from intimate.

'Hello?' he called, reluctant to explore.

Sharp footsteps echoed down a corridor. 'Coming!' cried Fiona. 'Sorry, I can't run in these shoes.'

The shoes were high heels—stunningly impractical—but instead of wearing a skirt, she wore jeans and a fitted blouse. It was perfect for a Muggle restaurant and complemented his own casual outfit.

She hesitated, as if unsure how to greet him, but Harry seized the opportunity and drew her into a kiss. After her initial surprise, she returned his kiss eagerly, but then pulled away. 'My mum is here. Not that I'm forbidden from kissing you, but she'll laugh if I immediately look disheveled. Your reputation precedes you, after all.'

'Right, I don't usually meet mums this early. Other than Ginny's mum, the only one I've met was Lydia's. And my reputation preceded me then as well.'

'I'm sure it did!' laughed Fiona. 'But don't worry—my mum is thrilled you're getting me out of the house.'

'It's quite a house,' remarked Harry, looking around. 'I assume there's more?'

'Yes, follow me.' She took his hand and led him down the corridor to a sitting room adjoining the kitchen. Matthew was busy drawing, and Fiona's mum was in an armchair with a book. She stood when she saw Harry and extended a hand.

'Harry, it's good to meet you. I'm Natalie Wycliffe.'

They shook hands and exchanged greetings, although she was clearly sizing him up. And he did the same, looking for the resemblance to her daughter. Natalie's skin was darker and her features were slightly different, but their faces had similar planes and she, too, was very pretty. 'Thank you for minding Matthew,' he said.

'And thank you for minding Fiona. I must say, you could have knocked me over with a feather when she said who was taking her out.'

'I'm only grateful she agreed to it,' he said, looking tenderly at his date.

Fiona seemed keen to leave, so she kissed Matthew, who was absorbed in his drawing, and told her mother she'd be home by ten. Three and a half hours, noted Harry, and he wondered if she might accompany him home after dinner.

'Are we Apparating?' she asked, and Harry nodded. 'In that case, we'll need to go outside.' She put on a jacket and led him through a vestibule to the front door.

They stepped outside, and he saw that it was a largish country house, bigger than a cottage but smaller than a manor. 'So this is Everbrook,' he said. 'Is there a brook?'

'Yes, it's out back. There's a waterwheel, even, but I'll show you some other time.'

'A waterwheel?' he asked, but she impatiently thrust her hand at him.

'I'll explain later. Let's go.'

He'd already consulted his guide to UK Apparition points, and he took her to an alley near the restaurant. But as soon as they arrived, she pulled him into another kiss. 'Much better,' she said afterwards. 'I've had three days of naughty letters since I last saw you, and while chocolate is brilliant, it's a poor substitute.'

'Actually, I brought another substitute,' he said, reaching into his pouch for the scarf he and Hermione had charmed.

'Harry, you shouldn't have! You already sent me a gift today!'

'I sent you a charmed rubber ball that bounces all over the room. But this is special—try it on.'

'It's so soft,' she exclaimed, and she wrapped it around her neck. 'Oh! What's this?'

Harry watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 'It's Light magic,' he said quietly. 'Hermione and I cast it on Sunday.' He explained how she balanced his excess 'groin energy,' and Fiona laughed.

'Your letters have more than enough groin energy, thank you very much. But this is beautiful—I love it.'

She kissed him once more, and he led her from the alley. It was maybe a quarter mile to the restaurant, and he was thrilled to be alone with her at last.

'Sorry I can't walk very quickly,' she said, tottering somewhat on her high heels. 'I haven't worn heels since last year's gala, and I need to practise.'

'Don't worry on my account,' he said admiringly. 'I can always walk behind you and enjoy the view.'

'Yes, about that!' she said, with a sly expression. 'We need to talk about the bit where you're Britain's randiest wizard.'

'Surely I'm not the randiest!'

'Then you're Britain's least discreet wizard.'

'I prefer to think of myself as unusually candid,' he said loftily. 'But what's your point?'

'My point is that I don't intend to jump into bed with you straight away. So if you're expecting pudding tonight in your enormous bed, you're in for a disappointment.'

Harry was impressed by her correct use of the word 'pudding,' which still had two meanings for him. 'I may be indiscreet, but I'm not a maniac. And based on your behaviour in the alley, I suspect I'll at least get a snog.'

'That you will. I'll admit you've reawakened my sex drive, which I'd previously considered dead and buried—word choice deliberate. But Rob wouldn't have wanted me to board myself up, and apparently neither do I. So thanks for that.'

'Don't mention it. And I know you're busy, but as long as it's not the night before a match, I'm at your disposal. In fact, maybe I should give you access to one of my house-elves, so you can call me anytime.'

She laughed and said, 'I can't see myself summoning Kreacher in the middle of the night when I'm all hot and bothered.'

'I don't blame you. But Lodie is much less alarming.'

'Still, I'd hate to wake you from a sound sleep.'

'Go ahead,' said Harry. 'It's only a matter of time before the Malfoys do the same.'

She turned to stare at him. 'Don't tell me you anticipate a naughty summons from Narcissa Malfoy!'

'No, of course not,' he laughed. 'But I recently discovered that Kreacher feels compelled to deliver letters from her—more than he used to. All I can guess is that the family bond is getting stronger, and that's affecting him somehow. And it's probably even worse for Lodie, since her mum is bonded to the Malfoys.'

Fiona shook her head in bewilderment. 'House-elves are deeply weird. I can't say I mind not having one.'

'Right, about that,' he began. 'Your house looked pretty big—how do you manage it without help?'

'It's a long story, but I'll tell you when we're seated.'

They arrived at the restaurant and waited for the hostess, who appeared soon after. Harry told her they had a reservation, and even though other people with reservations were waiting, she immediately led them to a booth.

'Double-barrelled name strikes again,' he grumbled after the hostess left. 'I get much better service in Muggle restaurants ever since I changed my name.'

'Snobs everywhere,' said Fiona. 'Are you familiar with Dunnings? The restaurant, that is.'

'Yes, I went there once. With Lydia, in fact.'

'Oh, right! The morning after you ruined her! Whose idea was that?'

'Hers—I'd never even heard of the place. Is Rob's family closely connected with it?'

'His uncle runs it, and Rob had a small ownership stake, currently held in trust for Matthew. But they mostly own property in Diagon Alley, and I rely on the rental income. WORF doesn't pay much, after all.'

'I'm glad you're all right. Losing Rob was obviously bad enough, but at least you didn't lose your house.'

'No, but it's a mixed blessing. It's a family property, and we'd intended to fill it with children. But that plan went down the toilet, and now Matthew and I are rattling around in a too-big house that's full of ghosts.' Harry's eyebrows went up, and Fiona said, 'Not literal ghosts, other than a quiet old lady in one of the guest rooms. But memories of what was and might have been.'

'I can relate. Grimmauld Place was Sirius's lair, not exactly by choice, and I feel his absence keenly. And same with loads of others,' he said, thinking of Fred, Remus, Tonks, Moody, and even Snape.

'But you've made it yours somehow,' she replied. 'Or that's how it seems. How did you do that?'

'Clearing all the Dark magic helped, although I doubt your house has the same problem. Other than that, it's been from making new memories, and throwing parties, of course.'

'Rob and I used to throw parties, mostly before Matthew was born. We were the first of our mates to get married, and everyone thought it was hilarious that Rob's grandparents gave us such a huge house, so we made the most of it. And I haven't even told you about the magic yet.'

Their waiter arrived, which led to several minutes of reviewing the menu. After they ordered, Harry reminded Fiona she had yet to describe the house. 'You mentioned the magic, which I assume goes beyond the usual level. And something tells me the waterwheel is involved, though I'm not sure how.'

'Well spotted! Yes, this is more than the usual house magic. It all starts with Rob's family, and their peculiar affinity for water.'

'An affinity for water?' asked Harry. 'How does that manifest?'

'First off, they all love swimming. There's a tremendous bathtub in the house, and Matthew would spend hours in there if I'd let him.' Harry smiled, recalling the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts and hoping Fiona's was similar. 'Next, they're terribly good at water-related magic. Rob was casting Aguamenti years before the rest of us, and even his less-gifted cousins were advanced in that respect.'

'Impressive. But how does the waterwheel fit in?'

'One of Rob's ancestors devised a way to capture magic from water, and successive generations refined it. It's an intricate process, and not all of Rob's relatives have the necessary skill, but they use water to power the household charms. And, as you'll see, they've set up a lot of charms.'

'Such as?'

'Much of what a house-elf would do. Tidying, maintenance, keeping magical pests at bay, and so forth. It can't cook, but fortunately I know how to do that. All in all, it makes the house shockingly easy to manage, and the restaurant as well. That's why it's stayed in business so long.'

'But Dunnings is in Diagon Alley, and there's no river there. Well, not right there.'

'Didn't you look out the window?' asked Fiona. 'Or were you too busy drooling over Lydia?'

'Oh, right! There was a river,' said Harry, dodging her other question. 'I remember thinking it couldn't possibly be there for real.'

'No, it isn't. But there are magical currents everywhere, and one of Rob's ancestors linked a current with the Thames so it "flows" past the restaurant. It makes a nice view from the window, but the real purpose is much more practical.'

'Did you and Rob eat there often?'

Fiona snorted and said, 'Merlin, no! I mean, yes, we went to private family functions there, but otherwise it's neither of our tastes. Not to mention it's terribly snooty, and a lot of the clientele skews Dark.'

'Is that how you'd describe Rob's family?'

'No. Honestly, they're off in their own world, and always have been. I suppose that makes them neutral, which has been good for business, but it frustrated Rob tremendously. He felt they should take a stand against Voldemort, but it's hard to fight centuries of political inaction, particularly when the family has thrived the entire time. And earning money allows them to tinker with weird magic, which is the highest family virtue.'

Harry had more questions, but he also wanted to learn about Fiona. 'And what about your family? Do you have siblings?'

'Yes, a sister. I love her, but she's older and thinks she knows what's best for me. And you can imagine how much I appreciate that.'

He chuckled and asked, 'Does she know about us?'

'No, I swore Mum to secrecy. I'll tell her soon enough, and I'm mildly curious how she'll react, but I'm mostly dreading it.'

'Won't she approve?'

'There's no telling, but I'm sure her opinion will be strong. On the one hand, she might be thrilled you've pried me from the house and set me on the road to normalcy. On the other hand, she's impatient for me to resume sprogging, and your vow doesn't play well with that.'

'Actually, I was worried you wouldn't want to date me because of my vow,' he admitted.

'It gave me pause, but not for the reason you'd think. I would like to remarry someday, and have more children, but I don't want to rush into it. So in that respect your vow is a good thing—the last thing I want is to wake up with a hangover and a new wedding ring.'

He glanced down and saw a plain gold ring on her right hand. 'Is that your old wedding ring?'

'It is. Until recently I wore it on my left hand, although Jill made me conceal it at your parties. But I moved it to my right hand a few days ago, which you're free to interpret however you like.'

'Noted. But what gave you pause about my vow?'

'The reason you took it. You said on the radio it's because you fall in love too easily.'

'That's right,' he said, uncomfortably anticipating where she was going.

'I don't fall in love easily,' she said, 'or at least I don't think I do. I've had exactly one boyfriend, whom I married. You, on the the other hand, seem to be gaga about someone new nearly every week. Or at least deeply passionate.'

He couldn't deny it, but he felt the need to defend himself. 'You're right, and there are a lot of reasons, I think. One is the Light magic, which is no joke. Another is that women are brilliant, and why wouldn't I fancy them?' She laughed, and he continued. 'But I feel complete with a partner, and I know that's not entirely healthy. My teammates say it's dead-mum trauma, and I'm inclined to agree.'

'Yes, and I'm a live mum,' observed Fiona. 'Although I don't get the sense you see me as a surrogate.'

'I don't think I do. I have Andromeda, and a few others.'

She nodded and said, 'My worry is that you'll fall for me, and then turn around and fall for someone else.'

'I have fallen for you,' he admitted. 'Hard. But it's more like how I felt for Ginny, in the respect that no one else could even tempt me.'

Her cheeks flushed, and she reached across the table to stroke his hand. 'Part of me believes that,' she said. 'A big part of me, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But I need to know my biggest appeal isn't just the challenge.'

Harry smiled roguishly and said, 'I can think of a way to solve that.'

She laughed out loud. 'You really are astoundingly cheeky!'

'So I'm told. But we were talking about your sister, and how she might not approve of me. Your mum seemed all right, though.'

'She is. In fact, she's quite the admirer—I'm sure she'd have signed that "Mothers for Harry Potter" letter.'

'That's fortunate. Dare I ask why?'

'The war. Until Rob died, we had an easy time of it, since I'm several generations removed from any Muggles. But my parents agreed that Voldemort was a monster and needed to be stopped. Sadly, that was easier said than done.'

Harry couldn't argue, but he felt the familiar frustration that so many people had opposed Voldemort and hadn't offered to help.

Fiona must have read his expression, because she said, 'I'm sorry, Harry. My parents wanted to join the resistance, but it wasn't clear how. Furthermore, Rob knew there was a prophecy, and although he didn't know the details, he said the best way to help was to offer protection without attracting the Death Eaters' notice. Which is what my parents did. With their colleagues, they monitored the movement of Dementors, particularly amongst unsuspecting Muggles. They cast any number of Patronus Charms and prevented more than one kiss. I know that wasn't the help you needed, but those Muggles certainly did.'

As usual, Harry felt sheepish for assuming people hadn't helped in the war effort. 'That's tremendous,' he said. 'And Rob was right to urge them to stay safe. When I think about the people who helped us most closely ... well, most of them are dead.'

'That's exactly what happened to Rob, even though you never met him. Did Owen tell you the story?'

'He said Rob was trying to undermine the Death Eaters from within the DOM. And that when he died, they told you next to nothing. All they gave you was his wand and a few possessions.'

Fiona nodded, and her face clouded over. 'He left for work that morning, and I got the news that night. The end.'

Harry's heart ached for her, and he reached again for her hand. 'I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what that was like.'

She placed her other hand atop his. 'And I can't imagine what it was like to see your mum die, or your godfather, or so many others,' she said. 'But can we just agree that losing the people we love is horrid, and offer each other support instead of pity?'

He wished he could embrace her then and there. 'I would love that. One good thing about my appalling reputation is that people forget to pity me.'

'I think I already told you I love your reputation. And I'm almost sorry we won't be photographed mid-snog, because then I'd be part of the Prophet's next photo essay on your world-renowned promiscuity.'

'Some of my teammates are worse,' he argued.

'You mean the one you had the orgy with?'

'No, that was only four people. An orgy requires five.'

She burst out laughing. 'Did you look that up?'

'My teammate did. But I'll have you know that my Light magic teacher has praised my restraint, given the circumstances.'

'Are you referring to all the propositions you get? Or just the fact that one look from those green eyes of yours turns women into jelly?'

'One look from you does the same thing to me,' he countered. 'I can't believe we're finally on a date. I really have fancied you from the start.'

'So it seems! Here I felt like a crone at your party, and then the drunken host comes onto me.'

'I was mortified afterwards,' said Harry, 'but at least it proves I'm consistent. Because I still think you're a fit bird, and I'll definitely owl you.'

She took a deep breath, and their starters arrived. 'I think my colleagues are getting suspicious,' she said as they ate. 'I keep receiving parcels, even though we already have everything for the auction. And several people have said I seem different.'

'Oh?'

'I tried convincing them I'm just keyed up for the gala, but Zelda—one of the office gossips—accused me of having a new beau. And yes, she actually used the word "beau."'

'Does she have any suspects?' asked Harry.

'She does indeed. I'll give you a hint: one of the auction celebrities.'

Harry tried to remember who else the article mentioned. 'Not Morgan Maddox?' he said, recalling the Tornados Beater she'd gone on a date with.

'No, she never thought that would work, since I'm too old for him. He's two years my junior, after all, and a Quidditch star needn't settle for someone "nearing her sell-by date."'

Appalled, Harry said, 'I look forward to proving her wrong!' He paused to consider the original question. 'So, clearly she thinks your secret beau is older.' A horrible realisation dawned. 'She can't possibly mean Lockhart!'

'Oh yes,' said Fiona gleefully. 'She thinks we're perfect for one another. Each of us scarred by the war, trying to rebuild our lives.'

'He wasn't scarred by the war—he scarred himself!'

'Details,' said Fiona, waving her hand dismissively. 'He was stuck in St Mungo's when there happened to be a war on, which is close enough.'

Harry was still outraged. 'Have you met him?'

'Yes, on Monday. I didn't write to you about it, not wanting to wreck the mood. Which clearly I've done tonight.'

'What did you think?'

'He's good-looking, and he was definitely turning on the charm. Particularly that smile of his—you know the one.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Is it more charming than mine?'

Laughing, she said, 'Maybe objectively. But speaking personally, it gave me the willies. Yours, on the other hand ...'

He set down his fork and took a sip of water. 'Like this?' he asked, allowing his Light magic to flow, and smiling more with his eyes than with his mouth.

'Gods, yes,' she said breathlessly. 'There's no comparison.'

'Tell that to Witch Weekly. Lockhart and I have a wager, and I suspect he'll win.'

'If the ladies in my office get a vote, definitely. The menopausal crowd loves him. We have high hopes for his auction price.'

Harry must have looked irritated, because Fiona laughed again and said, 'But you'll crush him. We've already received remote bids, and you wouldn't believe how high they're willing to go.'

'They know it's just a date in public, right?'

'That's what we're telling everyone. And believe me, some people have asked whether you mightn't bend the rules for the right price.'

Harry inhaled sharply. 'As much as I want to help WORF, even I have my limits. And besides, I'm spoken for.'

'Yes, and some of my colleagues were cross that you announced it on the radio. They think you'll draw a better price if people think you're single. But I pointed out how quickly you go through girlfriends, which reassured them.'

'Oi! I was with Ginny for more than a year!'

'That was lifetimes ago,' scoffed Fiona. 'To them you're the wizard who shagged three witches in a single week. Not once, but twice.'

Harry realised she was right. The first time was the week his Light magic surfaced, when he'd shagged Sophie, Vera, and Lydia. And the second time was when he went public with Light magic, hooking up with Jocelyn and Maryann only days after sleeping with Alex. 'When you put it that way,' he mumbled, a little embarrassed. 'Why exactly are you dating me?'

'Because you're an exceptionally good correspondent. Someone should really publish your love letters after you're dead and gone. By the way, that's the other reason my co-worker thinks I'm with Lockhart, since she caught me sighing over one of your letters, and she assumed that only a best-selling author could evoke that kind of response.'

'I still can't believe he got away with it,' scowled Harry.

'I thought you wished him well!'

'I do,' he admitted. 'But I'll never trust him.'

'Well, hopefully our bidders will. Apparently a favourable Prophet article is forthcoming.'

'Yes, I was interviewed for it. I'm surprised it hasn't run already.'

'He said they're rushing to finish his memoir, so they can include excerpts. But the article will come out this week.'

Their conversation that evening was wide-ranging, and there were no awkward silences. But there was the occasional meaningful pause, in which one or both of them was overwhelmed with desire. And by the end of the meal, they were impatient to pay the bill and leave.

'Finally,' exclaimed Fiona when they stepped into an alley, and they engaged in a passionate kiss before Apparating back to Harry's house. Normally he'd have taken her to the drawing room, which was his favourite non-bedroom locale for 'cavorting,' but they claimed a settee in the reception hall instead.

Although Fiona had warned him not to expect more than a schoolgirl snog, she was the one to take things further. 'Pent-up demand,' she gasped, pulling at his trousers. Harry was only too willing to oblige, and he was unbuttoning them when they were interrupted by a loud pop.

'A letter from Draco Malfoy,' announced Lodie, before screaming in mortification.

Harry hadn't yet lowered his trousers, but he held them up for dear life, for fear of traumatising the young elf. 'Just leave it on the table,' he blurted, keen to continue what he was doing.

'No, Master must read it,' she urged. 'It's from Draco Malfoy!'

Bloody house-elf magic, he thought, extending his hand. 'Give it here, I'll read it right now.'

Fiona, still relatively clothed in her bra and blue jeans, nuzzled Harry as he tore open the envelope. Together they read:

Harry,

I spoke with Vicki, and she didn't turn me down out of hand. But we've hit a snag, and I need your help to proceed. Can I see you tonight?

Draco

'Oh, hell no,' said Harry, tossing the letter aside. Lodie had gone, thank Merlin, and Harry resumed unbuttoning his trousers.

'No,' cried Fiona, still breathing heavily. 'We need to slow down.'

'What? Just a moment ago you were ready!'

'I was, and I still am, but we need to wait. This is going too fast.'

Harry's mind took a moment to catch up with his body. 'Right, got it,' he said, trying to steady his breath. He refocused his efforts on her top half, but she pushed him away.

'I know this is probably the first time anyone's slowed you down, and it's not as if I were a virgin. But I'm overwhelmed, and we need more time as a couple first.'

He finally understood her meaning. This is too intense, and she's struggling with her memories of Rob, he realised. Leaning back on the settee, he said, 'I'm sorry—it took me a moment there. But tell me what you need. Do you want to go home?'

'No, not yet, We still have another hour, and I'm not ready to say goodbye. But I don't trust myself to be alone with you either. Maybe you should send for Draco.'

Harry looked at her bra and its contents. 'Right now?'

'Give me a minute,' she said, retrieving her blouse from the floor. She gave him his shirt and excused herself to the loo. 'I'll be right back.'

He pulled on his shirt and took a moment to collect himself. She definitely likes me, he thought. And Merlin knows I like her. Part of him wanted to curse Draco for interrupting them, but he suspected it for the best. The last thing I want is for her to regret going too far, and then pull back.

When Fiona returned, he was drinking a fruit pressé, and he offered her one. 'How civilised!' she laughed. 'Would you like to set up a chessboard as well?'

'He can't find out his letter interrupted us, or else he'll exploit it,' said Harry. 'Send letters at all hours, and so forth.'

She looked sceptical. 'I know he was a Death Eater, but that seems cruel.'

'No, he'd do it in a heartbeat. In fact, I should probably explain our friendship, such as it is.'

He briefly described their years of enmity, culminating in Harry nearly killing Draco with the Sectumsempra curse. Fiona trembled when he told her about their escape from Fiendfyre, and she agreed that Draco's unwillingness to identify Harry when captured was extraordinary.

'And now he's gone and shagged a Muggle, thanks to my cover story about faeries, and he wants to install her in a flat,' he concluded. 'Are you ready to meet him?'

'As ready as I'll ever be.'

Harry sent him a message via Lodie, and minutes later Draco arrived through the fireplace. 'So this is the famous Fiona Dunning,' he drawled. 'Harry is completely gaga about you, in case you haven't noticed.'

'Actually, I had noticed. He's not at all subtle.'

'No, he never has been. I'm Draco Malfoy, of course, and it's a pleasure to meet you.'

'Likewise. And my maiden name is Wycliffe, so you can stop wondering.'

Draco raised a single eyebrow. 'What about your mother?'

'Watson. And her mother was a Shacklebolt, although not the same branch as Kingsley.'

'And yet you didn't attend Hogwarts?'

'No. I come from a long line of sentimentalists who'd rather not exile their children for ten months every year.'

'Fascinating! I suspect Mother would love to send me away for months at a time, even now.'

'Especially now,' muttered Harry.

'You're probably right,' he admitted. 'But that's why I need your help, to advance the Sheffield Plan.'

Harry invited Draco to join them at the table, and he asked what had happened with Vicki.

'I saw her this afternoon. It took a few days to get a mobile telephone,' he said, pulling it from his pocket. 'I'd never used a telephone at all, but my solicitor showed me how. It's quite extraordinary, really.'

'And you rang Vicki?'

'Yes, but it took a while to reach her. She doesn't have her own mobile, so I had to leave a message at her residence hall.'

'So many new skills!' exclaimed Harry. 'Next you'll be getting an answerphone.'

'Is that the same as voicemail? If so, I already have that. I even retrieved a message, although it was just from the mobile company welcoming me. Very odd.'

'And what happened with Vicki?' prompted Harry.

'She was pleased to hear from me. Said she'd been thinking about me, and wishing she could see me again.'

'That sounds promising,' said Fiona.

'Does she know the story?' Draco asked Harry.

'Yes, you and I are both going down together for shredding the Statute of Secrecy. Go on.'

'We made arrangements to meet near her university, which meant I needed more Muggle clothes. But it turns out blue jeans are surprisingly versatile. All I needed with them was a wizarding shirt and necktie, and the jacket I wore on Saturday. So I'm probably covered for a while.'

'Remarkable,' said Harry. 'I think you're ready to sit your Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.'

'Very funny, Potter. Anyway, I saw her this afternoon at a pub—I cast a privacy charm on our booth before she arrived, just in case. And I told her I want to keep seeing her.'

'Did you mention how you can never marry her?'

'Yes, and she thought that was hilarious. Did you know that it's common for Muggles not to marry until they're nearly thirty?'

'I read that, yes,' said Harry. 'In fact, it was something of an inspiration. But you're saying Vicki doesn't mind just having a fling?'

'So it seems. But she had another concern: that I'm a "Dark" faerie. On Monday she went to the library and looked up legends about the Unseelie Court, and it turns out they're downright vicious.'

'Unlike Dark wizards,' said Harry dryly. 'What is she afraid you'll do? And why did she even meet with you, if she thinks you're vicious?'

'She doesn't think that, at least not currently. But she's afraid I'll reveal my true nature when it's too late. And to make matters worse, she found out what Malfoy means.'

Sniggering, Fiona said, 'How could she possibly mistrust someone whose name means "bad faith?"'

'She's afraid it's a huge red flag,' admitted Draco. 'Although my scars helped, since they prove I'm vulnerable.'

'Did you tell her how you got them?' asked Harry.

'I didn't name you, if that's what you're asking. And she assumed they were from a sword. But what should I do? I need to convince her I'm not going to sprout talons and lure her to the underworld.'

Fiona looked at Draco appraisingly. 'Are you sure you're not part Veela? You're awfully fair."

'I am not part Veela! And I have no intention of hurting Vicki, but I don't know how to prove it to her.'

'I suppose Veritaserum is out,' mused Harry.

'That's a shame,' said Fiona to Draco, 'since Harry probably buys it in bulk.'

Draco chuckled. 'I like her. Try not to chase her off like the others.'

'Cheers,' said Harry absently, still deep in thought. 'Would Vicki trust a Light faerie? Maybe I could vouch for you.'

'Possibly, but she says Light faeries aren't trustworthy either.'

'Can I help?' asked Fiona.

The two wizards looked at her. 'How?' replied Harry.

'And why?' added Draco. 'You don't even know me.'

Fiona gazed affectionately at Harry and said, 'I don't know. I suppose I'm feeling romantic for some reason.'

Harry returned her gaze, and for a moment they were lost in their own world, until Draco cleared his throat. 'I appreciate your offer, Fiona, but I don't see how another faerie would convince her.'

'Could you give her some kind of token?' she asked. 'I don't know what the legends say, but maybe there's some way for faeries to prove they're on the level.'

Draco's eyes shot open. 'My name! She says faeries normally keep their names secret from humans, since that gives the human power over them. According to her, that's why Harry wouldn't reveal his real name.'

'Did you tell her your full name yet?' asked Fiona.

'Not my middle name. Do you think she'd believe me if I told her?'

'What is it?'

'Lucius.'

'Honestly, that's the most normal of your three names,' she said. 'But here's an idea: you can take a page from Harry's book and give her a little gift with your name on it. A necklace, perhaps.'

'No,' said Draco, frowning. 'I already got into trouble this month giving a woman jewellery.'

'That was jewellery from the family vault,' said Harry. 'And Muggles don't have the same rule—I bought Penelope a pair of earrings and it was no big deal.'

Fiona said, 'Get her a silver locket, in the shape of a leaf or something, and have the jeweller engrave your name on the inside. Tell her it's a huge show of trust—Harry can back you up, right?'

'If you like,' he said, amused by the plan. 'And she definitely won't get my name out of me.'

Draco eagerly pulled out his phone. 'I should ring her now,' he said, pressing a small button above the screen.

'It won't work in here,' said Harry. 'Sophie's didn't.'

'Blast, you're right. Do you have a terrace or something?'

'Yes, and so do you. At Malfoy Manor.'

Draco seemed to belatedly realise he was interrupting their date. 'Fiona, I hope you know what he has in mind, shooing me away like this.'

'Harry is nothing if not transparent,' she said fondly. 'But I've enjoyed meeting you, and I wish you all the best with Vicki.'

Putting the phone back in his pocket, Draco rose from the table. 'The pleasure was mine, Madam Dunning. Other than your questionable taste, you strike me as a woman of breeding, elegance, and wit.'

'Fiona, that's a huge compliment,' said Harry. 'And Draco, well done, not insulting my girlfriend.'

'Mother says we should praise your good behaviour when it occurs. Otherwise you'll never be trained.'

Fiona laughed, and Harry said, 'Don't hit your head on the mantelpiece,' forcefully escorting Draco to the fireplace.

'A Malfoy is always graceful,' was Draco's final pronouncement before leaving at last.

When the green flames died down, Harry approached Fiona again. 'So, did that count as spending more time as a couple?'

'It did,' she said, encircling him in her arms. 'You've earned a lingering kiss goodnight.'

Harry dragged it out as long as she was willing, which was long indeed, but he didn't try luring her back to the settee. 'When will I see you next?' he asked.

Still in his arms, she said, 'Not until Sunday, I'm afraid. But I'll listen to your match.'

'Thanks, but I'm not flying, remember?'

'Then I'll listen to the announcers bemoaning the fact that the league's best Seeker isn't playing.'

'And I'll sit in the skybenches counting the seconds until I see my beautiful girlfriend.'

Her face clouded over, and for a moment she was silent. 'Sorry, it's just strange hearing someone besides Rob call me that.'

'Is it all right?' he asked gently.

She took a deep breath, then nodded. 'It is. I'm still astounded, but you very clearly like me.'

They kissed one last time, and she left through the fireplace. Passing the dining room on his way upstairs, he realised he'd forgotten to introduce her to Banthora, since they'd never left the reception hall. But his regret was replaced with joy, when he realised he'd have no shortage of opportunities.