Harry was replying to fan mail on Sunday when Lodie handed him a piece of note paper. 'Master has received a letter from Malfoy Manor.'
Oh, bugger, what did I do now? thought Harry. 'Er, thank you, Lodie,' he said, unfolding the card. But it was from Draco, not Narcissa, and he grew more alarmed. It said:
Come to the Manor at once.
Draco
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. Did Draco break the law? Fuck! He got caught bribing someone, and now I'll be punished! He dashed to the fireplace and tossed in way too much Floo powder. 'Malfoy Manor!' he choked, his panic amplified by the dizzying journey.
Nitta was standing before the fireplace when he arrived. 'Where's Draco? What happened?' he cried. 'Is he in trouble?'
'Master is with guests in the breakfast room,' said the elf. 'Nitta will show the way.'
Harry had no idea what she meant by 'guests.' It could be Merrick Bode and a team of Aurors, he thought, although he dimly realised that made no sense. He took a deep breath and followed her.
All became clear when they arrived. Seated at the table were Draco, Daphne, and a scowling Pansy Parkinson, who struggled to hold her head upright under the weight of two enormous antlers. 'Damn you, Potter!' she snapped. 'You're supposed to be a Light wizard!'
'I warned you,' he said, trying not to laugh. But he was overwhelmed with relief that Draco hadn't got into trouble, and his joy must have been apparent.
'Stop smirking! It's not funny!'
'Untrue,' said Daphne. 'It's terribly funny. Don't you agree, Draco?'
'I do. Last time this happened we had to feign sympathy, but now I can just laugh.'
Harry realised this wasn't the first time Pansy had been cursed with antlers—she'd received them when Hogwarts rebelled against Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. 'Did you go to St Mungo's?' he asked.
'Yes, and they couldn't do anything. It turns out putting a time limit on a curse makes it harder to break, and I'll have to wait the week. It is a week, right?'
'It is. I wanted a month, but Hermione talked me down. You should also thank her for not making your teeth fall out.'
Pansy turned pale. 'I never thought you were evil like this! I assumed it would be something minor, like my hair changing colour.'
'His Patronus is a stag,' said Daphne. 'It makes perfect sense.'
'When did you spill the beans?' he asked.
'Friday, at your tailor's. I had a private fitting for a Muggle tuxedo, as Blaise suggested, and naturally I couldn't go to my usual tailor. But the shop assistant asked if I wanted menswear because of that Wandlore cover ... the very idea!'
'So you blurted out the truth?'
'I had to! I'm a Parkinson, not some C-squared wannabe!'
'Did the antlers appear instantly, or did they have to grow somehow?' asked Daphne.
'They grew. Which was fortunate, since the shop assistant was standing right next to me—she might have been impaled.'
Harry frowned. 'It wasn't Althea, was it? And was she the one who told the Prophet?'
'It was Althea, but she didn't tell the Prophet—I did. I was very cross with you, and I decided you needed to be exposed as well. But you should thank me, because now you can go to a wizarding tailor and have something made, and not just to a Muggle charity shop.'
'You're right. Thank you.'
Pansy blinked. 'Are you serious?'
'Yes. I'm actually relieved it's out in the open.'
'It's the Light magic,' scoffed Draco. 'He'd probably thank Umbridge if he saw her.'
'No, he'd just send his Patronus,' said Daphne. 'Draco, did your father say anything about it?'
'It didn't come up.' He looked at Harry and said, 'Are you just going to stand there?'
'Are you inviting me to lunch?'
'It's brunch, and yes.'
Harry sat down. 'I can't stay long—I have an appointment at half twelve. With my tailor, in fact.'
'Fantastic,' said Pansy. 'No wonder you thanked me.'
Draco interrogated Harry at length about the Cannons match. 'Catherine and I saw Puddlemere play Pride of Portree yesterday, and on Thursday we saw the Arrows versus Ballycastle. It turns out she just loves Quidditch.'
'Fancy that,' said Daphne dryly.
'Why isn't she here now?' asked Harry.
'Her mother worries she's shown me too much favour,' grumbled Draco. 'She thinks Catherine should meet other wizards as well, otherwise she might get a reputation.'
'A reputation? For dating Draco Malfoy?'
'No,' said Daphne, 'for spending too much time with him, which can only mean one thing. If for some reason she and Draco don't marry, she could be compromised.'
'But the only reason he hasn't proposed yet is because people would assume she's pregnant,' said Harry, baffled as always by pure-blood courtship. 'Even though it'll be apparent in nine months that she wasn't.'
'No, they'll think she had a miscarriage. They're frightfully common amongst old family pure-bloods. That's probably why you're the last remaining Potter.'
'Bloody inbreeding,' muttered Harry. 'So, Catherine is forbidden from spending too much time with Draco until they've been dating long enough for him to propose?'
'That's right,' said Daphne. 'And it's particularly important in her case, since her family's poor. Her reputation is all she has.'
'Excuse me, she has a dowry now,' noted Harry.
'A small dowry,' said Pansy. 'No one blames you, of course, but it's only a fraction of what mine is.'
'Is that why you can get away with being promiscuous?'
'Yes, and I'm also Sacred Twenty-Eight. I'll never want for suitors.'
'Then why aren't you married already? Don't you want to be?'
'Not yet,' said Pansy. 'You've ushered in a new era of decadence, and I want to take part. I was livid not to be invited to your first party.'
Harry was lost in thought. 'Then why was Lydia so inexperienced? She's Sacred Twenty-Eight and had an enormous dowry.'
'Was her mother Sacred Twenty-Eight?'
'I have no idea,' said Harry. 'Nightwick?'
'That explains it,' said Pansy. 'Not a Hogwarts family. Her mother married up in the world, and she was probably just as ambitious for her daughters. Lydia could have married Draco if she hadn't run off.'
'Thank Salazar she did,' sneered Draco.
Ignoring him, Harry turned to Daphne. 'Then what about you? Obviously it's none of my business, but you're more like Lydia was, right?'
'I am. And yes, I could probably get away with behaving like Pansy, but I'm genuinely old-fashioned. I want to be in love with the wizard, and I haven't yet met someone I fancy enough.'
'Do you have suitors?' asked Harry.
'Yes, but disappointingly few. That's the problem with being heiress to a noble house. Wizards like Draco aren't interested because they don't want a wife on equal footing. And wizards who aren't heirs are reluctant to look like adventurers.'
Harry was picturing Indiana Jones, but he suspected that wasn't what Daphne meant. 'What's an adventurer?'
'It's the male equivalent of a gold digger,' said Pansy. 'Dashing, charismatic, ambitious. You'd have been a fantastic adventurer if you weren't already Head of House.'
'Er, thanks?'
'And then there's the surname problem,' said Daphne. 'My husband will have to take mine. Girls are more common in my family than boys, at least in the head branch, and the first-born is always heir, regardless of gender. My husband will have to give up his surname, and our children will be called Greengrass. So you see why no Head of House would be interested.'
Harry nodded. 'I'm afraid I do. Personally I wouldn't mind taking my wife's name, but I'm expected to perpetuate two families already.'
'Exactly. So I need to find a wizard who's willing to be subordinate but still masculine enough to interest me.'
'Forgive me for asking, but does he have to be a pure-blood?'
Draco laughed out loud. 'Are you suggesting a Greengrass marry a half-blood?'
'Or a Muggle-born,' said Harry. 'And yes, why not?'
Daphne looked puzzled. 'Because that's not done. Admittedly we marry the right kind of half-blood every few generations, but a Muggle-born?'
'They mightn't be so stubborn about taking your surname,' said Harry. 'I'll grant you, they might not fancy courting a virgin, but I bet they'd love the challenge of seducing a pure-blood princess. I know I did.'
'That wasn't a challenge,' said Pansy. 'She was ready to shag you the very first night.'
'It still felt like a conquest. Daphne, I could introduce you to a dozen different Quidditch players who'd probably fight duels over you.'
Daphne tried to look offended, but her flushed cheeks and parted lips told another story. 'That's outrageous,' she said. 'I'm a Greengrass.'
'Yes, and he would be too, after you married him. Don't rule it out.'
'Harry, you could introduce them at your party,' said Pansy. 'Or make an announcement on the radio.'
'Don't you dare!' cried Daphne. 'I'd curse you with antlers myself if you did that.'
The conversation continued, and Draco was surprisingly pleasant towards Harry. 'It's Sunday, and of course everything's your fault, but unlike Pansy and Daphne you're willing to talk about Catherine.'
'When will you see her next?' asked Harry.
'Not until Tuesday, during your broadcast. You don't have her photograph, do you?'
'Er, no. I gather you don't either?'
'No, and I could curse my stupidity. If I could just look at her between now and then, I might survive. Have you noticed the curve of her cheek? It's exquisite.'
'Could you ask her to owl you a picture? I'm sure she'd think it was romantic.'
'You're right! I'll do it this instant!' He rose from the table and rushed to the door.
Pansy waited until he was gone. 'Pathetic. Completely pathetic. Harry, are you this bad when you're in love?'
'I am when I'm with her, but when we're apart I'm usually all right. Which probably means it's not love, but there you are.'
'This isn't love,' said Daphne. 'It's obsession. Can't you stop him?'
'And what would I say?'
'I don't know, but you're a Slytherin now. Surely you'll come up with something.'
Pansy's eyes lit up. 'I know! You could encourage his competitive streak, and turn him into a shameless seducer like yourself. You could even go pulling together!'
'No, I'm through with pulling. I want to date properly from now on.'
'What? No! And besides, you can't date properly if you won't propose for two years.'
'Well, not properly, perhaps. But not like a manwhore either. It's only been three months since I joined the Cannons, and my reputation is in tatters. Imagine if I keep up like this for two more years.'
'Triple figures, surely,' exclaimed Pansy. 'That's exactly what Draco needs to hear!'
'What, so he can be a manwhore too?'
'Exactly! If you can insinuate that he wouldn't be any good at seducing witches, he'll go out of his way to out-shag you.'
'This is a terrible idea,' said Harry. 'And you're really convinced Catherine isn't sincere?'
'She's more calculating than anyone I've met,' said Daphne. 'And my family's been in Slytherin since the twelfth century. The only reason we're sure he hasn't been Love Potioned is because Pansy slipped him an antidote.'
Harry glanced uneasily at his own drink, and Pansy said, 'Do you really think Catherine's not here because her mother wouldn't allow it? I'm sure they crafted the plan together—what better way to fan the flames?'
'But she might still fancy him,' he said feebly.
'She fancies his vault. Meanwhile, I've caught her staring at Blaise. And you, for that matter.'
'Me! She mostly just sneers at me.'
'When Draco's around. Try talking to her on your own.'
The door opened, and Draco entered. 'With any luck I'll have her photo within the hour,' he said. 'I can't wait to see what expressions she makes. I've never seen anyone curl their lip so delightfully.'
Harry checked the time. 'I should leave now. Thanks for brunch, and for scaring the living daylights out of me earlier. Pansy, sorry about the antlers, but you deserve it.'
'You'll just have to make it up to me,' she said. 'Have fun with your French model in ...' She looked at the clock. 'Seven more hours.'
He bade them goodbye and found his way to the drawing room. To his surprise, Narcissa was there. 'Harry, a moment please.'
'Yes, what is it?' he asked, anticipating either a scolding about the party or a plea to intercede with Catherine.
'I sent Andromeda a letter last night, and Nitta said there was a man at her cottage. They were eating dinner together.'
Harry tried not to smile. 'And?'
'Who is he? Do you know?'
He was tempted to lie, but he opted instead for vagueness. 'It might have been my tutor, but I can't say for sure.'
'Your tutor? I thought she was a witch.'
'No, my other tutor. He's teaching me about culture, and everything I didn't learn at Hogwarts.'
'Your werewolf tutor?' she gasped. 'With Andromeda!'
Bugger! thought Harry, who'd forgotten he'd mentioned Simon on the radio. 'Yes. They've become friends, but that's all.'
'How can she possibly allow a werewolf near Teddy? I thought she had more sense than that!'
Harry couldn't hide his irritation. 'Teddy's father was a werewolf. And I seem to recall you and Lucius were more than hospitable to Fenrir Greyback.'
'How dare you!' she cried. But then she was silent, and she took a deep breath. 'Lucius and I didn't see eye to eye on Greyback.'
'I'm glad to hear it. As for my tutor, he's FLOOF-compliant and would never hurt anyone. And obviously Andromeda wouldn't endanger Teddy.'
Narcissa grudgingly agreed, and Harry took his leave. Back at Grimmauld Place, he paused to marvel at how disrespectful he'd been. Was that a flare-up of my obnoxious Seeker persona? Or was it the power of the Black family ring?
He didn't have time to dally, and he grabbed the David Bowie album to show Benedict Thimble. There was no need to slide it into his pouch, since Thimble had provided a Floo address for the private fitting, in the back of the shop.
'Good afternoon, Mr Potter-Black,' said Thimble. 'I'm delighted to outfit you for such a notable occasion.'
'I'm glad for your help. But be warned, there won't be photographs.'
'No, but there'll be Pensieve drawings, which are the next best thing. So let's get this right.'
Harry showed him the album cover, and Thimble nodded approvingly. 'Marvellous. I don't believe you're as tall as David Bowie, but you're nearly as slim. Will you wear a wig?'
'No, I'm not trying to pass for female. Only eye makeup.'
'Fantastic. Should we recreate the original fabric, or are you willing to alter the colours? Green instead of blue, for example.'
'I'll leave it up to you,' said Harry. 'Everyone thinks I have good taste, but I really just know who to trust.'
Over the next half hour, Thimble produced a replica of the dress using stock fabric, with a promise to remake it in patterned velvet. 'Forgive me for suggesting this,' he said, 'but you'll replicate the look more thoroughly if you shave your chest and arms. Androgyny, you know.'
Harry sighed, recalling his final task before the photo shoot. 'Yes, I know.'
Thimble drew a picture of the type of boots he recommended. 'If there were ever a time to wear a raised heel, this is it,' he said. 'No one expects you to be tall, so it would be a delightfully shocking choice.'
When Harry passed through the front of the shop, Althea greeted him. 'I was hoping you were Mr Thimble's secret client,' she said playfully.
'Yes, my plans to buy a dress at a Muggle charity shop went out the window yesterday morning.'
'Thank goodness! Everyone is speculating about what you'll wear. And I won't name names, but some of your guests are pulling out all the stops.'
'I know about Pansy,' he said quietly. 'I saw her a few hours ago.'
'I'm so sorry! I hope you weren't too unpleasantly surprised.'
'No, it's fine.' On a whim, he said, 'Would you and your husband like to attend? I'm sure you'd dress appropriately.'
She eagerly accepted the invitation, and he went next to the shoemaker, who knew better than to offer him a raised shoe. But Harry ordered platform boots with a high heel, and he had to admit this was better than rifling through charity bins.
By the time he got home, there was only half an hour until the photo shoot. No more putting it off, he thought resignedly. 'Kreacher!' he called.
Crack! 'Yes, Master.'
'I need your assistance shaving.'
Kreacher's ears pricked with excitement. 'Twice in one day? Lucky lucky Kreacher!'
'Er, not my face,' said Harry, turning red. 'Unless I need another go-round,' he added, feeling his cheek.
He explained to Kreacher what he needed, and the elf straightened proudly. 'Kreacher is honoured to serve Master, who is restoring the glory of House Black.'
'I'm not convinced flogging underwear counts as restoring the glory. But I appreciate your help.'
The shave was mortifying, and Harry was tempted to have Kreacher Obliviate him afterwards, but the result would surely please Randall and Estella. And at least it'll grow back by morning, he thought.
He travelled by Floo to the photographer's studio, and a small crowd awaited him in the vestibule. 'Harry, right on time,' said Dominic Runnion. 'You remember my brother Claudius, and my nephew Randall, of course. And this is Virginia Holloway,' he said, indicating a smartly-dressed witch. 'She's our American distribution partner.'
'Harry,' she said, extending her hand. 'It's great to meet you. I'm the founder and CEO of Sweet Nothings, and I simply had to come for today's photo shoot. There's a lot riding on this, you know.'
He introduced himself, but she cut him off. 'We have to get you on the radio back home. The girls will simply melt when they hear that accent!'
Dominic saw Harry's expression and said, 'Virginia wants to talk about stateside publicity, but we can do that later. I'm sure you're dying to see Sophie.'
'I am, although it'll be difficult for the next five and a half hours.'
'Yes, about that vow of yours,' said Virginia. 'I'd like to see things get steamy between the two of you—will that be a problem?'
Harry had done his best not to think about the photo shoot, so he wasn't sure how to reply. 'Er, just how steamy?'
'I'm calling it "The moment before,"' she said. 'The moment before you both tear off what little you're wearing and give into your animal nature.'
Sweet Merlin, I can't blow my vow this close to the end! he thought, almost in a panic. 'I can touch her but we can't kiss. Will that be all right?'
'Can you almost kiss? Just an inch or two apart—it'll be fantastic in a Muggle photograph, because people will know exactly what's next.'
Harry's throat clenched. 'I can try, but I make no promises.'
Virginia glanced at Randall, who said, 'I'm sure we can make it work. Sophie's a professional, and Harry can do anything he sets his mind to. Right, Harry?'
His reply wasn't audible at first, and he had to clear his throat. 'I'll do my best.'
'Good lad,' said Dominic. 'But let's get started—your dressing room's over here.'
'Where's Sophie?' he asked, peering down the corridor.
'You won't see her until you're both in front of the camera,' said Randall. 'Amanda wants to capture the moment.'
They escorted him to a small dressing room, and Harry was worried everyone would follow him inside, but only Dominic did. 'Here's what you'll wear,' he said, indicating a small pile of undergarments. 'We'll give our foreign partners several options, since tastes vary across the globe. Some of them want classic Y-fronts, others want boxer briefs, and so forth.'
Harry looked through the pile, and fortunately nothing was worse than what he'd expected. 'All right. What should I start with?'
'White boxer briefs. Randall says they're a modern classic. And when you're done, give a shout and the makeup artist will work on you.'
'Not Muggle makeup!' exclaimed Harry, aghast.
'No, she'll just use charms. And no one will be able to tell—it's just to keep you from looking washed out.'
Harry sighed and nodded, reminding himself just how many dowries this would pay for. Dominic left, and he changed into the first pair of briefs. After charming them, he called for the makeup artist.
Within moments, a witch with spiky purple hair entered. 'Don't mind me, I'll be quick. I'm Zinnia, by the way.'
'Nice to meet you, Zinnia. I'm Harry.'
'You certainly are!' Twirling her wand, she said, 'I just spent half an hour with Sophie, and believe me, you're in for a treat.'
'Half an hour! Is that what you call quick?'
'No, she got what I call the "girl next door" treatment, which is more fiddly than you'd think. If she were fully clothed she'd look innocent, but because she's only wearing a bra and knickers it's a whole other story. You'll love it.'
'I'm sure I will,' said Harry nervously. 'The question is whether I'll survive.'
'That all depends whether you charmed your briefs,' she said saucily. 'But I'll get you sorted faster than that. First bit is the "instant summer" package—we can't have you looking like a newborn Mandrake.' She performed several charms to even out his skin tone and make his body less pale. 'Much better. And now some charms to highlight your bone structure and put roses in your cheeks—you like flowers, right? Don't worry, nothing too obvious.'
Harry distracted himself by imagining how he'd berate his future offspring. 'You think gold grows on trees, young man, but I had to earn it! I worked seven days a week, and you won't even take five minutes to tidy your room!'
'Perfect,' said Zinnia. 'You're all angles, and they're lovely. Now your teeth.'
'My teeth?' he said, horrified. 'Am I expected to grin?'
'I have no idea—that's up to Amanda. My job is to simply to make you grin-ready.'
'This won't be permanent, will it?'
'Oh no, I'm not permitted. You need medical training to make that kind of alteration. This'll just last till the end of the day. Consider it your chance to pretend you're American.'
I can tell people I'm from Chicago, he thought. I bet Penelope would have believed me if I'd had perfect teeth.
'Oh dear, I overdid it,' said Zinnia when she was done. 'If you were a random model no one would know, but you're too ubiquitous. Have a look.'
He looked in the mirror and laughed out loud. 'That's appalling! I look like Gilderoy Lockhart!'
'Too right. Hang on, I'll start over.' She cancelled the tooth charms and tried again. 'There, that does it. You still look English, but you'll no longer frighten the Yanks.' Harry frowned and she said, 'Just kidding.'
A glance at the mirror revealed that his teeth were slightly less crooked and a little whiter, but still recognisably his own. 'That's not so bad. What's next?'
She looked at his hair sceptically. 'It's a lost cause, right?'
'It is. You can move it around, but it'll never be tidy.'
'Still, let's see if we can't get the right amount of tousle.' She combed his hair for a minute and performed a charm to keep it in place, which didn't work.
'I told you so,' he smirked.
'That's all right—bedroom hair's one of your trademarks. On that note, how would you feel if I darkened your scar just a bit? Otherwise it'll get washed out under the lights.' Harry frowned again, and she said, 'I know, love—it's a horrible thing to ask, especially considering how you got it. But they're paying good money for the real Harry Potter, and your scar's as real as it gets.'
He sighed. 'All right, go ahead.'
Finally she stepped back and looked him over. 'I'm pleased to say that's all I need to do—you did the hard part, getting into shape like that. Now go out there and see your mademoiselle.'
Harry stepped through a second door that led straight to the studio. Everyone turned towards him, but he only had eyes for Sophie. She wasn't heavily made up, as she'd been when they went to the nightclub, but she was every bit as alluring. Zinnia's charms made her radiant—with a dewy complexion, sparkling eyes, and rose-petal lips—and Harry was overwhelmed with desire.
'Ma chère,' he said breathlessly. 'Why can't I kiss you right now?'
The camera snapped repeatedly as Sophie approached him. 'Bientôt,' she murmured. 'Soon.'
She was wearing plain cotton knickers and a relatively simple bra, trimmed with lace. Perfect, he thought, admiring her delicate curves. She wasn't voluptuous like Marina, but her gamine charm was everything he wanted just then.
He shivered with pleasure when she placed a hand on his chest, and Amanda said, 'Look over here.' They both turned, and the camera snapped again. 'Yes, right at the lens. Sophie knows how.'
Harry followed Amanda's orders as if in a dream, and no one else spoke. After several minutes, Virginia said, 'Estella, you win. Their alchemy is exceptional.'
'I told you so,' said Estella. 'Marina's a knockout, but with Sophie's there's substance.'
The time flew as Amanda photographed them, but not fast enough. 'It's still hours,' groaned Harry. 'Stop, I need a break.'
He put on a dressing gown and drank some water. 'Let's take the solo shots,' said Amanda. 'We'll send Sophie out of the room, refresh her charms, and give you a chance to clear your head.'
She photographed him in the different styles of underwear, and he glowed on demand. 'Oh my, you really glow everywhere, don't you?' said Randall.
Harry could barely reply. 'You'd better be happy with these pictures,' he finally said, allowing his glow to fade.
'Believe me, we will be,' said Estella, not taking her eyes off him. 'Claudius, I think we need to scale up production.'
'You've said that twice already,' said Randall. 'But it's fine if we sell out—it'll build up demand. Now about publicity ... Virginia mentioned putting you on the radio.'
Harry tried not to frown, knowing he was being photographed. 'Yes, how would that work? Could you just air my Weasley's broadcasts?'
Virginia shook her head. 'No, they're too British; American audiences won't understand the references. We'd rather have an American deejay interview you directly.'
'Er, how?' asked Harry, bracing himself for the answer.
'We're hoping you'd be willing to portkey to Boston.'
Harry sighed. Alex had explained what portkeys to America were like, and they sounded ghastly. 'How many stops does it require?'
'Five, which shouldn't take more than half an hour.'
Five portkeys in half an hour! thought Harry, and he realised he was no longer hiding his dismay. 'Why Boston and not New York?'
'The radio show we have in mind is based in Boston, which is near Salem. It's also the shortest trip from London.'
'Right,' he said dully. 'Could this possibly wait until January, when I'm in Chicago for the World Quidditch Conference?'
'No, we'd like for it to coincide with the November launch,' said Virginia.
'What about the telephone?' asked Harry, grasping at straws. 'Can't they interview me that way?'
'If it were anyone else, yes. But you have, shall we say, a certain presence, and I doubt a phone call would capture it.'
Harry belatedly recalled he was only wearing Y-fronts. 'Surely I'd be dressed!'
'Yes, of course,' said Virginia. 'But the radio personalities I have in mind prefer to talk to guests in the studio, and you'll create much more of a splash in person.'
Still frowning, he asked, 'What would I even say? There's nothing in my contract about talking up the product. I mean, they seem to be high-quality, but all I really have to say is that the money's good and I'm an enormous sell-out.'
Everyone laughed, and Randall said, 'You needn't talk about the product—this is all about whetting America's appetite for Harry Potter-Black.'
'Oh, right!' said Virginia, her eyes gleaming. 'Can we use the title?'
'Absolutely not. It's one thing for everyone in Britain to find out I posed in my underwear, but if I used the title I'd never live it down.'
She looked sceptical but Randall backed him up. 'He's right. Part of why he's so popular is that he rejected the title. But Harry, could the hosts at least bring it up? I suspect they'd love hearing you go on about how lordships are bollocks.'
Did I actually agree to the interview? Harry wondered. 'So would I mainly be answering questions about Voldemort and the war? Or are they interested in Quidditch over there?'
'No, they couldn't care less about Quidditch,' said Virginia. 'They'll want to hear what it was like to go from being a teenage freedom fighter to an international sex symbol.'
He was about to dispute the word 'international,' but he realised he couldn't. 'And would that promote sales?' he asked.
'Would it ever! Like Randall said, you'd whet their appetite, and then in January you could follow up. Now that I've seen you myself, I'm sure America will go wild for you.'
Dowries, Harry reminded himself. 'Would I be expected to go anywhere but Chicago in January?'
'Honestly, Chicago's the last place you'll want to be in January, and New York's not much better,' said Virginia. 'And I can't quite picture you in Miami, or even L.A. But San Francisco ...'
'Oh, yes,' said Randall enthusiastically. 'They'll adore you in San Francisco. And we can even send you on a wizarding train. Not as fast as a portkey, but much more civilised.'
Virginia pulled a diary from her handbag. 'When can you come to Boston?'
Harry looked helplessly at Dominic, who nodded. 'Er, I think I have the first weekend off in November. We play Ballycastle that Thursday.'
'You can either do it in one day, or bring a friend and have a mini-break,' said Dominic.
'If it's a witch, be discreet about it,' said Virginia. 'You'll do better there if they think you're available.'
Still trying to ignore the absurdity of discussing this in his underwear, Harry said, 'If I'm serious about someone, I won't hide my relationship status.'
'Of course not,' said Estella. 'But we want to position you as the world's most eligible bachelor, and it'll help if you downplay any relationship before it gets serious. And besides, you still have that vow not to marry before you're twenty-one.'
'That's true, but it doesn't forbid me from dating someone exclusively or even moving in with them.'
'No. But wasn't it because you fall in love too easily?'
Recalling what Ekantika Singh had said about his sucking need, and how ready he'd been to propose marriage to her, Harry nodded.
'Then perhaps it's in your own best interest not to get too serious with anyone. Dating is fine, and that's not a problem as far as publicity is concerned,' said Estella. 'But if you're as good as married to the witch, then you're not being true to the spirit of the vow.'
Harry was frowning again, and Amanda finally interceded. 'This is a photo shoot, not a cross-examination! Harry's costing you a fortune, and you're wasting precious time.'
Everyone seemed chastened, and Harry shot Amanda a grateful look. 'Just ignore them, Harry, and let's see that swagger.'
He allowed his Light magic to arise, and soon he forgot all their badgering. After Amanda got all the solo shots she needed, he put on a dressing gown and paused for tea.
Virginia was delighted. 'Classic,' she said approvingly. 'Amanda, get pictures of this too.'
Sophie returned, looking even more enchanting than before, and they resumed posing together. 'This will be the hardest part,' said Amanda. 'But it'll all be over soon.'
She had them interact as if they were on a date, only dressed in underwear. He held Sophie's hand, gazing into her eyes, and she playfully drew him closer. Only inches apart, they stared hungrily at each other until Amanda had them turn to the camera again. Harry was nearly out of his mind with desire, but he also knew the photographs would be extraordinary, so he surrendered to Amanda's direction.
'Just five more minutes,' she said. 'And then you can get dressed, have dinner, and shag your brains out.'
'Are you trying to kill me, talking like that? I still have nearly two hours.'
The last few minutes were excruciating, and fantastic. Amanda had them come as close to kissing as possible without breaking Harry's vow, and Sophie moaned with anticipation. 'Ton voeu, il est cruel,' she murmured. 'Your vow, it is cruel. Only the English could come up with something so foolish.'
'But I can control my Light magic now,' he replied, unable to look away from her. 'We can even go to a Muggle restaurant.'
She made a face. 'An English restaurant? Dégueullasse.'
Everyone laughed. 'This is London—I'm sure there's something you can stomach,' said Randall.
'Nothing too heavy,' said Harry, trying with all his might not to embrace her.
'Sushi?' she asked. 'It's hard to find in Paris.'
'I've never had it, but I'll try anything.'
'I can ring ahead for you,' said Randall, pulling out a mobile phone. 'Uchiko, in Soho.'
He stepped into the corridor, presumably to get away from the excess magic. When he returned a minute later he said, 'Harry, wear the three-piece suit. They didn't want to give you a reservation until I trotted out the double-barrelled name. Can you posh up your accent?'
'Yes, I'll imitate Draco Malfoy,' he said, still fixated on Sophie.
Amanda had them reposition themselves one last time, and a minute later she declared the shoot complete. 'Well done, Harry. Both of you, really, but Sophie already knew what she was doing.'
She dismissed them, and Harry asked Zinnia to cancel the charms she'd applied. 'Sophie, I'm afraid you'll have to be seen with a pale-bellied, crooked-toothed Englishman.'
'I don't care,' she said affectionately. 'But I am vaniteuse and will keep my charms while we're in public.'
They went together to Grimmauld Place and quickly changed into smarter clothes. 'It's a good thing we're not eating at home,' he said. 'I'd blow my vow for sure.'
Harry consulted his guide to UK Apparition points and brought them within a short walk of the restaurant. Sophie wore high heels and was several inches taller than he was, but he didn't mind. She looked fantastic, and he was thrilled to be seen with her.
He affected his best Malfoy drawl when they arrived at the restaurant. 'I have a reservation under the name Potter-Black,' he said, trying not to laugh.
The host seemed surprised by his youth. 'Yes, of course,' he said. 'Would you prefer a table or a spot at the sushi bar?'
Harry looked at Sophie, who said, 'The sushi bar, please.'
'Yes, miss,' said the host. 'It'll just be a moment.' He directed them towards a waiting area and promised he'd seat them presently.
When they were alone, Harry said, 'I don't know if I'm flattered or offended that I'm being treated so well. A few months ago I brought my girlfriend Helena to a chichi Indian restaurant, and they treated me like dirt.'
'The English are terrible snobs,' said Sophie. 'The French as well. When my old boyfriend wanted a better table at a restaurant, he put a "de" in front of his name.'
'Like Robert de Montesquiou!' exclaimed Harry.
'You have a good memory! And you are very elegant in your suit. Although I preferred what you wore this afternoon.'
'No, we have an hour and a half to go! We should really come up with something safe to talk about.'
'Like what?'
'I don't know. Your family? All I know about them is that they were conveniently out of town while I was in Paris, which I'll always be grateful for.'
She was in the middle of telling him about them when the host returned and led them to the sushi bar. 'This is the best spot,' said Sophie. 'You can see the chef and ask questions, if he's not too busy. And we must buy him a drink—it is good manners.'
Harry looked at the raw fish on display. 'Hermione often wished she knew how to prepare sushi, but we never had rice or soy sauce. And she didn't want to make a mistake and get us sick.'
'Ah, mon cher,' she said tenderly. 'Will this be all right? I forgot you ate so much fish during the war.'
'As long as I don't have to clean it, I'm fine. Just tell me what to order.'
She selected starters, and the waitress helped them choose a sake. 'And now we trust the chef.'
He continued asking about her life. 'Do you know what you want to do after modelling?'
Blushing, she said, 'It's not a noble ambition, but I wish to design clothes for women.'
'That sounds perfectly noble to me, although I have a preference for unclothed women,' said Harry, looking down her dress. 'Bugger! Just hit me the next time I talk like that.'
She swatted him playfully. 'Like this?'
'Oh, god, no,' he moaned. 'Maybe we should sit at opposite ends of the bar.'
'T'es incorrigible! Et je t'adore.'
'Was that an insult or a compliment?'
'Both. And you were asking about my ambition.'
'Right, women's clothing. Have you tried designing anything yet?'
'Yes. This dress, for example,' she said, indicating the one she was wearing.
Harry's jaw dropped. 'Are you serious? That's brilliant! Do you want to sell to witches or Muggles?'
'I wouldn't mind selling to witches, but Muggle couture is more exciting. And there is nowhere better to live than Paris.'
He sighed but couldn't argue. 'Can you get started now, or do you need to focus on your modelling career?'
'Modelling is a good way to save money, and I am learning about the industry. And now I have a good problem since being cast in your advertisement; there is already gossip about it, and my agent says several magazines want me on their cover.'
'American magazines?'
'Yes, and other countries also. I could be very busy for a while.'
Harry tried to hide his dismay, but Sophie laughed. 'Mon pauvre, were you hoping I'd stay in England with you?'
He nodded and widened his eyes, just as Lydia had accused him of doing when he wanted something. 'How can you possibly leave me? Estella says I'm the world's most eligible bachelor.'
'The world's most accro bachelor,' she scoffed, using the French word for addict. 'But I will spend as many nights with you as I can. And who knows, maybe we will fall in love.'
She told him more about her plans to start a couture line, as they sipped sake and ate their starters. 'I feel embarrassed not to have learnt more about you when we first met,' he said.
'We had other ways to pass the time. And you had many questions about Paris. But now you have a tutor—will you show me around London?'
'Er, I still don't know much about Muggle London. Until this cruel vow, as you called it, I couldn't go anywhere without fear of glowing. But I can take you out later this week.'
'Yes, and I must also see Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.'
'Oh my god, yes. Will you join me on the radio? None of my girlfriends have gone on the air before.'
She smirked and said, 'Perhaps they had a good reason, and I shouldn't do it.'
'No, you have to. It'll be good for your career, or something. Although you can't breathe a word about why you're here.'
'It's not a secret anymore. The modelling agents all know about it, and so will the magazine editors. The only reason everyone in England doesn't know is because your island is so isolated.'
'You're probably right, but let's not speed things up. I still need to deal with everyone knowing about the party.'
She sniffed derisively. 'How do you tolerate living here? Your journalists are obsessed with your private life. It is a joke now in France.'
'My private life is a joke in France?'
'No, your newspapers. Our newspaper ran the photo with your Light magic, where you were making love to those two witches, and the headline was "Bravo, Harry!"'
He laughed out loud. 'Are you serious? France is brilliant!'
The chef placed their first sushi roll on the counter, and thus began Harry's cultural lesson. Sophie had him start with the ginger and wasabi, both of which made his eyes water. 'That is normal,' she said, laughing.
Next he tried the actual roll, which he liked. 'I suppose it's only fitting we're at a Japanese restaurant, considering that's the first country I agreed to appear in adverts for.'
'I am surprised you are doing it at all. I remember how much you value your privacy.'
Harry rolled his eyes. 'What privacy?' He looked around the restaurant and said, 'It's only at places like this that I have privacy. I'm doing the adverts for the gold, pure and simple.'
'Is that really the only reason?'
He ate another piece of sushi, thinking about her question. 'No,' he said finally. 'Making money's dead easy once you know how. Assuming my other ventures succeed, which I suspect they will.'
In a soft voice, she said, 'It's also for the attention, no?'
Harry nodded, and he felt energy rise within his chest. 'I don't know why. I used to hate attention. But now, oh my god.'
'Yes, it is powerful. I did not cancel Zinnia's charms before we come here—I wanted people to look at me and think I am special. And I am proud of my well-dressed boyfriend who the host wanted to please.'
It was a relief to hear someone else say it. 'Is that why you model?'
'It is not an easy job, and you cannot be too sensitive, because people criticise you all the time. But to know I am admired, and desired ... I like it very much.'
The chef set another sushi roll in front of them. After trying a piece, Harry said, 'Do you know how many propositions I get? Attractive women slip me their addresses nearly every time I'm in public. I never take them up on it, but just knowing they want me is ... overwhelming.'
He recalled what Draco had said about Catherine: 'I'm not stupid—I know she wouldn't be interested if I weren't a Malfoy. But that makes it all the more intoxicating ... I'm the best there is.'
'I am impressed you keep your vow this whole time,' she said.
'I owe it all to a portrait—you'll meet her tomorrow.' He told her about Banthora, and how they'd talked every morning and evening, and how she'd soothed him nearly every night.
'Mon pauvre petit, you needed a maman.' He looked at her in surprise, and she said, 'This is what mothers do. They calm their children after a bad dream, and listen to them talk about their day.'
Harry was astonished, but she was right. 'I never thought about it like that. But it's dead obvious now—I needed a mum to get me through a fortnight without sex. And I needed sex to get me through life without a mum.'
'Needed?' she asked playfully.
He consulted his pocket watch. 'We still have more than an hour. And I guarantee you'll see plenty of need.'
'But I am not a mother,' she said, her eyes gleaming.
'So much the better.'
They enjoyed nearly all the sushi the chef provided, and Sophie congratulated Harry for being so brave. 'Not all wizards will eat strange cuisine.'
'I'll do anything to impress a beautiful woman,' he said, blissfully aware that only half an hour remained.
'Should we order dessert?'
'No, I told Kreacher to prepare us something. Fair warning: there might be a lot of flowers. Without thinking I told him to use as many as he liked. He won't be able to clean out the shop, but it'll probably be excessive.'
He paid the bill and they strolled for the time that remained. 'Are you really afraid to be alone with me?' she asked.
'Yes. I'm only grateful we're not in France, since everyone around us would be snogging right now.'
They spent the last few minutes in front of a shop window that was crowded with merchandise. 'I do not see it,' she said. 'I think you are lying.'
'Look harder. There's definitely a pepper mill.'
'There is everything but a pepper mill. I thought the English were more orderly than this.'
'No, that's the Germans. Do you want a hint?'
'Isn't it time yet?'
'Sorry, we still have another three minutes.'
She scowled. 'Why could you not have taken your vow sooner? You probably wasted time looking at your teacher with big eyes, in the hope it would be shorter.'
'You mean like this?' he said, widening his eyes.
'Arrête, coquin!' she scolded. 'If you do that, I will do this.'
Harry turned pale as she pulled down the top of her dress so only he could see. 'No,' he said hoarsely, 'it's not time yet.'
'I'm sorry, what? I do not understand English,' she said, running her hand along her chest. She raised her other hand and began sucking on her forefinger. 'Ah, oui,' she moaned, trailing her wet finger down her neck.
'Are you trying to kill me?'
'Parle français, je ne te comprends pas.' She tilted her head back in ecstasy and looked at him through lowered eyelids. 'Quelle heure est-il, mon joli Anglais?'
'I don't know what you're saying,' said Harry desperately.
She took his hand. 'Viens avec moi, alors,' she said, leading him into an alley. 'What time is it, my lovely Englishman?'
'Seven thirty-eight and fifteen seconds.'
'And we wait for seven thirty-nine and twelve seconds?'
Nearly mad with desire, Harry nodded.
'How long does it take to Apparate to your house?'
'Not long. Ten seconds at most.'
'Then perhaps I should stand over here,' she said, walking several feet away. He moved to approach her and she stepped back and shook a finger at him. 'Non, non! Tu restes! Now what time is it?'
'Seven thirty-eight and forty-seven ... forty-eight ...'
Sophie counted along with him, and when the new minute began she walked languidly towards him. 'One ... two ...'
He grabbed her hand, willing himself not to kiss her, and turned on his heel. In a whirl of Apparition, they arrived in his bedroom and he consulted his watch once more.
'Thirteen,' he said, and their lips met at last.
