By the time Harry reached the landing outside the drawing room, guests were already surging up the stairs. Their progress was slow, since everyone was craning their heads at the decor, but they were as inexorable as a tidal wave.

The first person to spot him was Dean Thomas, who wore a Muggle miniskirt with a floral shirt tied below his ribcage, revealing a bare midriff. 'Harry, oh my god!' he exclaimed. 'Not just a dress, but eye makeup! I don't care what the Sorting Hat says—only a Gryffindor would have the bollocks to wear that!'

'I could say the same thing about you! Thanks for coming, and for getting into the spirit of things.'

'Wouldn't miss it! I still can't believe what a degenerate you've turned into, but you've made wizarding Britain massively more fun. I'm no longer jealous of my sister's stories about university.'

They chatted a little longer, but Harry saw heaps of people he needed to acknowledge, so he excused himself and greeted a long series of friends and acquaintances. He quickly discovered it was important to keep moving, lest he get stuck holding court, and he found himself repeating the same line with nearly everyone: 'I'm glad we got to say hi, but I see someone else I need to talk to. Please excuse me, and thanks for coming.'

This was generally enough to allow his escape, and there was always someone else nearby to talk to. Some people followed him, of course, in which case he steered them to a mutual friend, in the hopes of depositing them there.

Pansy was particularly hard to shed. Harry had to admit she looked terrific in her tuxedo and top hat, and she dropped broad hints about teaching him the Slytherin art of discretion. But there was an awkward moment when she tried following him into the loo, after assuming his need was figurative rather than literal, and he finally unloaded her on Jack Parrish and his mates.

'Jack, this is Pansy Parkinson,' said Harry. 'She's a bona-fide pure-blood princess, and I think you'll get on brilliantly.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Parkinson,' said Jack, kissing her hand. He was in elaborate drag, as were his three companions, and they immediately started fawning over Pansy's outfit. She ate it up, and Harry knew he'd succeeded.

'Have you caught up with Vera yet?' asked one of Jack's mates.

'No, I haven't seen her. What is she wearing?'

'Robes,' said Jack, 'but I'll leave the details as a surprise. I did a fine bit of transfiguration, as you'll see.'

Harry found Vera soon after, wearing very familiar-looking charcoal robes with green trim and a white gardenia, just as he'd worn the night they met. 'Were they out of Cannons robes?' asked Harry acidly.

'Come now, don't be cross,' she said. 'I made your reputation, after all.'

'Yes, and you picked up a few hundred Galleons in the process. Was that your plan from the start, or did you decide afterwards?'

'Afterwards. I didn't even know about the bounty until the next morning—Jack learnt about it that night, after you and I left. Blood Traitor was offering twice as much for a gay tell-all, and more than a few wizards tried, apparently. But they didn't pass the Veritaserum test.'

'Did Sorceress require one?'

'They certainly did! And you should have seen their reaction when I told them what happened. They thought the Veritaserum was faulty and sent for another bottle, and they asked more than once whether I saw you take any performance-enhancing potions. But once they realised it was true, they literally stopped the presses and put it on the cover.'

'And the rest is history,' said Harry dryly. There was another minute of awkward small talk, reminding Harry that their only rapport was physical, and she didn't protest when he excused himself.

Next he found Jill and Fiona. Fiona looked lovely, in her usual unfussy way, and Harry wondered yet again if they'd ever be allowed to date. 'I'm so glad you could make it,' he said to both of them. 'Is Owen around here somewhere?'

'He's with some of our school chums,' said Jill. 'Loads of us are here, thanks to all the invitations you gave him, so there's a mini-reunion going on in the library. I'll probably join them in a bit.'

A line formed between Fiona's eyebrows, and Harry remembered how Owen had said she felt abandoned in her grief. 'Fiona, you look smashing,' he said. 'I don't know if I can continue wearing fitted robes in good conscience after seeing how much better they look on witches.'

'Then you'll have to keep wearing dresses,' she said. 'Am I mistaken, or is that a David Bowie homage?'

'It is—well spotted! Do you know the album?'

She did, and they started talking about Muggle music. 'Has your tutor exposed you to the Kinks yet?' she asked.

'I don't think so. What are they known for?'

'Any number of songs, but the one that springs to mind is "Lola," which is about a man dressed as a woman.'

Feigning confusion, Harry said, 'Why would you possibly think of that?'

She laughed and said, 'Cross-dressing suits you, actually. The eye makeup in particular—promise me you'll keep wearing it.'

'I will not. My reputation is bad enough, thank you very much.'

'I love your reputation,' she said. 'It's terribly fun to watch as a bystander, and it'll be a goldmine for the WORF auction. By the way, I'll need your old eyeglasses this week so I can take them to Gringotts, unless you'd rather do it yourself.'

'No, I trust you.' Harry was tempted to suggest they go to Gringotts together, but Jill was still there and he didn't want Owen to find out. Although she doesn't seem to mind that we're flirting, he thought. Owen probably would have hexed me by now.

'Is there anything else I can donate?' he asked. 'I know my glasses are a big-ticket item, and so is my broken broomstick, but Cannons merchandise seems rather lame by comparison.'

'It'll sell, but I agree it's less interesting. It's a shame we can't capitalise on your Light magic somehow. Are there books about the Light Arts you could sign?'

'That seems dishonest, since I can't be arsed to read any of them,' said Harry. 'But hang on, what about books that have been cleared of Dark magic?' Without revealing Hermione's role, he told her about the books they'd purified.

Fiona's eyes grew large. 'That would be fantastic! And you'd be willing to sign them?'

'Yes, of course.' He lowered his voice and said, 'I suspect Hermione would as well—she's my study partner. She's been keeping her Light magic private, but she told me this evening that her Occlumency is finally up to snuff. I assume her signature would be valuable as well?'

'Absolutely! But only if she's comfortable with it.'

Harry would have loved to keep talking with Fiona, or even ask her to dance. But he was already pushing his luck, so he excused himself and wished her and Jill a good time at the party. He definitely still fancied her, but he knew this wasn't the night to make it happen.

He occasionally crossed paths with Lisa, who was with a group of her mates. 'Harry, don't give up,' said her friend Michelle. 'She claims she'll never date you, but I've known her forever and can tell when she's lying.'

'I'm not lying!' said Lisa. 'Harry, don't listen to her.'

'If you're not lying,' persisted Michelle, 'how come you're giving every other bloke the cold shoulder tonight.'

'So Harry won't feel left out,' she said, with a saucy gleam in her eyes.

'There, did you see that?' said Michelle. 'She doesn't give that look to just anyone.'

'Lisa, don't worry,' said Harry. 'You've made your feelings clear, and I have no intention of being the pervy cousin who won't let you alone. I'd also much rather have you as a friend, as you well know.'

Her expression was hard to decipher, but she nodded. 'See, Michelle? Even Harry Potter is more mature than you are.'

'Oi!' cried Harry, and the others laughed.

'Just kidding,' said Lisa, and she smiled sweetly at him, which made his heart melt.

'I should keep moving,' he said. 'There are still loads of people who haven't insulted me yet, and I hate to keep them waiting.'

'Draco Malfoy's right over there—perhaps you should talk to him.'

'Ugh, I'll need a drink first. I've mostly abstained tonight, but he'll lecture me if my hand is empty.'

They were in the drawing room, and Maclou was in the corner serving drinks, so Harry got a beer before approaching Draco and Catherine. Draco looked good, he thought, in a slinky silver dress with an outer robe of black velvet. Someone had used cosmetic charms on him, which softened his features and emphasised his resemblance to Narcissa.

But Catherine looked magnificent. She also wore black outer robes, embroidered with silver snakes. But in contrast to Draco's evening gown, she wore battle gear, including tall boots, leather trousers, and a fitted brocade shirt faintly patterned with runes. Her hair was loosely pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, and dangling from her earlobes were a pair of diamond and emerald earrings. That's a surprisingly sexy outfit for such a determined virgin, thought Harry, and he was reminded of Trinity in 'The Matrix.'

'That outfit is fantastic,' he told her. 'You too, Draco. Thanks for embracing the dress requirement.'

'A Malfoy is always properly attired,' said Draco. 'Further proof that Catherine was made for me.'

'Are congratulations in order?' asked Harry.

'We'll place an announcement in next Sunday's Prophet, which means it's not yet official. Furthermore, I haven't asked her father, but he already approved my courtship, so we don't anticipate a problem.'

'Then I'll congratulate you unofficially,' said Harry warmly. 'I wish you all the best together.'

Catherine blushed prettily and thanked him. 'Draco won't acknowledge it,' she said, 'but we'd never have met if you hadn't repaired the tapestry and hosted that reunion. Do you remember when we first met? It was right here in the drawing room ... I can admit now that Draco immediately caught my eye. People say dark hair is exotic, but Draco's colouring is simply divine. I can only hope our children take after him.'

Thus began a quarrel over who was more attractive, with the conclusion that she was permitted to bear a son who looked like Draco but the rest had to resemble their mum. 'A blonde could never wear those earrings,' said Draco, 'nor any of the other emerald jewellery in the vault. But they suit you perfectly, which proves yet again we were meant for each other.'

Classic wizard logic, thought Harry scornfully, but he was glad Draco was happy. He couldn't decide, however, whether Catherine was sincere. She was definitely bolder than before, and her body language made him wonder whether she and Draco had taken things to the next level. Her affection seemed genuine, but he didn't know whether it was fuelled by love or by gratified ambition.

He was hoping Draco would fetch more drinks and allow him to observe Catherine alone, but he'd barely touched his beer. I suppose that's a good sign, thought Harry, and he decided to let them be. 'Congratulations again, and see you around.'

They barely noticed his departure, and Harry continued downstairs. The dining room was less crowded than before, but many of his teammates still gathered near the table. 'Snitchbottom!' called Janet. 'I didn't think you could surpass your other parties, but you've proven me wrong. It would appear the missing ingredient was French house-elves and fake tits.'

They both looked at Ron, who was eating a pastry. 'How do women even function with these things?' he asked, wiping crumbs from his protruding breasts. 'Mine are at least lightweight, but real ones probably weigh ten pounds or more. Combine that with high-heeled shoes, and I'm surprised women don't topple over more often.'

'I think they adapt,' said Harry. 'Are you having a good time?'

'Yeah, definitely. The decorations are first-rate, although Gilstrap was making cracks about your aristocratic pretensions again. I told him you'd paid your dues, and that if he didn't like posh decor he could bloody well stay home.'

'How did that go over?'

'He said, "I don't mind if Potter shows off, but he really needs to drop his 'man of the people' act." And I said, "It's not an act, you berk. I went to Hogwarts, so I definitely know what snobs look like, and Harry's not one of them. If anyone's on a high horse, it's you, mate."'

'I'm sure that convinced him,' said Harry. 'In fact, that probably explains why he gave me a big hug earlier and said he was sorry.'

Ron just stared at him. 'You're joking, right?'

'Yes. I haven't seen Gilstrap at all tonight, which probably explains why I'm in a good mood. Though I should really visit the dance floor at some point.'

'There's no rush,' said Janet. 'I'm sure it's good now, but it'll be even better later when everyone's trying to pair off. On that note, have you identified the lucky witch yet?'

'No, but I'm not worried. I've had offers, some of which are tempting, but I'd rather keep my options open.'

'Good lad! How's the ex-lover situation?' she asked. 'Aren't they all here?'

Without naming names, he told her he'd already seen Vera and Elizabeth. 'But I haven't seen Lydia or Helena yet. They'll be harder for sure—especially Helena.'

'I don't know if I've seen her—they never ran a good photo—but I definitely saw Lydia and her major hunk of man-candy! Be prepared, Snitchbottom, because he'd make anyone feel inadequate.'

'Er, thanks?'

'Don't mention it!' she said. 'Should we monopolise you for a while, or do you want to continue circulating?'

'I should keep moving. In fact, there's someone I should talk to while I'm still relatively sober,' he said, spotting Esme and Charles Selwyn entering the room.

They were exquisitely clad: Esme in tailored robes, and Charles in an elegant gown trimmed with peacock feathers. They both wore what appeared to be family jewels, and Harry couldn't deny they were a fine-looking couple. Except for the Dark Arts sneer, he thought, and he noticed they both wore gloves.

'Selwyn,' he said. 'I'm glad you could make it.'

'Yes, thank you for inviting us. You remember Esme, of course.'

He nodded, and they exchanged bland greetings. 'Have you eaten anything yet? My house-elves are from France, and they make the most wonderful pastries.'

'No, we waited for the crowd to thin,' said Esme. 'But now it's not so bad. Charles, will you have a go? I'll talk with our host.'

'My dear, I wouldn't dream of leaving you hungry. You go first, and I'll talk with him.'

Harry detected a silent battle of wills, which ended with Esme going first. Addressing Charles, he said, 'I hope you're having a good time, in spite of the debauchery.'

'It's brilliant,' said Charles, who seemed more relaxed with Esme gone. 'We could never have been the first to throw a party like this—Esme and I are both burdened with generations of dowagers. But you haven't any real family, so you're free to break all the rules. Bravo!'

Harry was temporarily dumbstruck. 'I beg to differ,' he finally said. 'I have cousins galore now.'

'Distant cousins. Although I heard you're sponsoring House White, which is really above and beyond; I didn't know Quidditch paid that well. But then, you're in bed with the goblins, so you'll be richer than Malfoy in no time.'

Realising Charles was drunk, Harry couldn't resist drawing him out. 'I don't know about that. But have you seen him tonight? He's here with the witch he's courting.'

'Courted,' said Charles. 'Those earrings might as well be an engagement ring, even though they can't have been together more than a few weeks. But who can blame him for being in a hurry? She's an absolute vixen in those battle robes—I'll have to get Esme to dress like that. And that wedding gown your friend wore ... Esme says her seamstress is being flooded with requests for something similar.'

'Will people really wear them in public?'

'No, but you've created a mania for clandestine parties. In fact, Esme and I are hosting a Demimonde Ball in November. I'd invite you, but really, who are we kidding?'

Esme returned with a small plate of pastries. 'Darling, now it's your turn,' she said. 'Go on.'

Charles left, and Harry asked Esme if she was having a good time. In a haughty voice she said, 'It's educational, seeing how the other half lives.' Harry couldn't hide his disbelief, and she said, 'Not poor people, of course. Blood traitors, or whatever I'm supposed to call you. "Egalitarians." Of course that describes Lydia now, but she still entertains as we were taught. Have you seen her yet?'

'No, but I'm hoping to, and I'm keen to meet Marcus.'

'Another blood traitor, but I suppose that's her type. And what's to stop her? Speaking of which, thanks for Imperiusing our uncle. I have the upper hand with Charles now, and it's made all the difference. They say a dowry is supposed to protect the bride, but until I had more gold than he does I was always at a disadvantage. Speaking of which, what do you know about this Catherine White?'

Harry stalled, not wanting to divulge more than necessary. 'Er, Draco Malfoy has been courting her.'

'Not just that, Potter; unless she hired those earrings for the night, they're engaged. Which means she's a remarkably fast worker ... hasn't it only been a month since he left house arrest?' Harry nodded, and Esme said, 'She needs to be careful. There's a reason courtship normally lasts longer than that: If the wizard proposes too early, he's more likely to back out, and then she'll be compromised. Frankly, between her outfit tonight and those earrings, she'd better marry him tout de suite.'

'What's wrong with her outfit? This is a drag party, for Merlin's sake! I'm wearing a dress and sodding tart armour.'

'You're a wizard and the head of two houses,' said Esme knowingly. 'Miss White, on the other hand, is a witch hoping to marry the biggest prize after my brother Jacob. Admittedly she's pretty, and her bloodlines are pure, but other than a token dowry she hasn't a Knut.'

Harry had no idea how to reply, but fortunately Charles returned with an assortment of pastries. 'Potter, this is an impressive spread, but the lack of champagne is a scandal.'

'Yes, that's definitely the most scandalous thing I've ever done,' drawled Harry. 'But if you'll excuse me, I see the two witches I fondled in public last month—I should really go say hello. Thanks so much for coming.'

He left them to their pastries and approached Jocelyn and Maryann, who were attended by a pair of enamoured-looking wizards. 'Harry, darling!' cried Maryann. 'Oh my god, that eye makeup! Everyone's talking about it, of course, but words don't do it justice.'

Maryann kissed him on both cheeks, French-style, and Jocelyn held out her hand for him to kiss, which he did. 'I've heard the most delightful rumour about you,' she said.

'Oh? What was it?'

'I'll give you a hint: I heard it from my modelling agent.'

And so it begins, thought Harry. 'Interesting. Who else knows?'

'That whole community knows, but apparently the photos are strictly guarded, so you won't see more than a blind item in the gossip column until there's proof.'

They introduced their companions, who were the same wizards Darren had seen them with on Sunday, and Maryann told Harry about their growing fame as it-girls. 'England's a backwater, but we're going to America next week. There's a record producer who wants to form a wizarding version of the Spice Girls, only with Americans as well, and he thinks we'd be perfect for it.'

'Wow, really?' said Harry. 'I didn't know you could sing.'

'Singing's only part of it,' said Jocelyn. 'It's more about a look, you know.'

Harry congratulated them and excused himself, only to be ambushed by Gilstrap. 'If it isn't the belle of the ball!' he proclaimed. 'I must say, you really know how to throw a party, Potter.'

'I'm glad you're enjoying it,' said Harry automatically. 'And thanks for dressing the part.'

Gilstrap was wearing a Muggle school uniform, including a pleated skirt, necktie, and knee socks. 'It would have been churlish not to,' he said. 'I realise you have a poor opinion of me, but I at least know how to follow a dress code.'

'For the record, I've thanked everyone. And of course you know how to follow a dress code—you had a far more consistent upbringing and education than I did.'

'Yes, I'm realising that. More than one of your friends has taken me to task for treating you unfairly. Which, in retrospect, I have done.'

Harry looked at Gilstrap suspiciously. 'Are you pissed or something?'

'Believe it or not, no. I'm in my sound and relatively sober mind and am admitting that I, Andrew Gilstrap, have been excessively hard on Harry Potter.'

'Er ...' said Harry, unsure how to respond.

'We share the same goal: We both want wizarding Britain to be more egalitarian. It's all well and good for a bunch of us from obscure schools to try to fix things, but we need someone on the inside, and that's you in spades.'

Harry couldn't stop himself from saying, 'Even though I didn't earn any of it?'

'That's not true,' said Gilstrap. 'You were tireless in the fight against Voldemort. There may have been a prophecy, but you did your part as well.'

'Cheers,' said Harry, hoping he sounded more gracious than he felt. 'And yes, I know a lot's been handed to me, particularly by Sirius. Though I'd prefer if he were alive, with sons of his own.'

'Yes, yes, you're an orphan. No need to belabour the point when I'm standing here apologising.'

'Right, of course. We mustn't get on too well, after all. But what do you want me to do with my insider status? It's not as if the Wizengamot votes on this sort of thing.'

'That's only one of your unfair advantages.' Lowering his voice, Gilstrap said, 'What about Pratt's?'

'Blimey!' exclaimed Harry. 'I'd never even heard of Pratt's until a few months ago. Where did you hear about it?'

'So it is real,' said Gilstrap triumphantly. 'My friend thought it was a myth, and that there couldn't possibly be a top-secret, ruinously expensive club for pure-blood elites, particularly with a name like that. My response was to ask him what planet he was on, since it sounded entirely plausible to me.'

Harry knew he was honour-bound not to talk about Pratt's, but he'd already told Gemma and Lisa, among others. 'What are you getting at?' he asked simply.

'Are you a member?'

'They don't invite wizards until after they turn twenty-one.'

Narrowing his eyes, Gilstrap said, 'You didn't answer my question.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Yes. They thought they could control me that way. I wasn't going to join, but I knew I'd never get another chance once they learnt about my Light magic.'

'And the brothel had nothing to do with it?'

'No, it was a strike against. But what are you hoping I'll accomplish there?'

With a gleam in his eye, Gilstrap said, 'Is there a membership committee?'

'Yes, but they're all a million years old, from what I've seen.'

'And you can't influence them? You may be young, but with your goblin allies you're unusually powerful.'

'Er, I can try. But I should warn you, I already pushed them about accepting Muggle-borns, and they shot down all my suggestions. Among other things, they said they don't offer membership to anyone who can't afford it.'

'What about Routledge?'

'They don't normally invite Quidditch players until after they retire. I also suggested people I know from Hogwarts, but they're too young. And no one I know from the Ministry can afford the dues.' After a pause, he said, 'Do you know anyone?'

'Good question ... Muggle-born, successful, and not currently a Quidditch player? I'll have to think on it and get back to you. In the meantime, you've inspired me to plan my post-Magpies career accordingly.'

Harry paused before making his next point. 'Forgive me for saying so, but you'll never be invited if you keep burning bridges, and I don't just mean with me. You have a reputation for being more vicious than necessary. I realise it's helped the Magpies into second place, but it'll drag you down later.'

Gilstrap scowled and was silent.

'It's not worth it,' continued Harry. 'You're a good Seeker, and you could probably win matches with ordinary taunting.'

'Not always,' said Gilstrap. 'Obviously it backfired against you, but I couldn't have defeated Hobbs without throwing her off-balance.'

'Have you tried? I've actually stopped taunting entirely, and it's more destabilising than you'd expect.'

'I'll never stop taunting—that's why they hired me.'

'Then find a balance,' said Harry. 'Try turning it off sometimes. Which I suppose you've done tonight.' He refrained from adding, Was that so hard?

'I'll keep it in mind.'

'Er, can you keep the Pratt's thing secret? I'm really not supposed to talk about it.'

'Yes, we certainly want to keep your membership in good standing. And I'll get back to you about candidates.'

Harry was ready for another drink after talking with Gilstrap, but he still hadn't talked to Lydia or Helena and didn't want to embarrass himself. I should start hosting more small parties, so I can get pissed like a normal teenager, he thought.

'Toffer!' cried Gemma, who was accompanied by several of her mates. 'You remember Tyler and Miles, right? Of course you do—you're weirdly good at remembering names. My theory is that it's because when you got to Hogwarts everyone knew who you were, so you had to develop advanced facial recognition and retention skills in order not to look like a colossal wanker. Am I right?'

Harry laughed and said, 'Are you pissed?'

'Just a bit. But you aren't, are you? God, I wish I'd seen you at your first party, when you got plastered and told Rita Skeeter how much you wanted to shag Helena. I think I saw her, actually. Strawberry-blond hair, right?' He nodded, and Gemma said, 'She's pretty, but that's no surprise. I think the Prophet called her "exceptionally lovely," which I suppose is your type.'

'Do you need some water?' he asked. Addressing her friends, he said, 'Will you keep an eye on her?'

'Don't worry, I'm doing fantastic,' said Gemma. 'I should wear a tiara all the time. At practice, even. Everyone's asking about it, and Lydia was scandalised when I told her it was from the Black family vault.'

'You saw Lydia?'

'Yes, and her new boyfriend. He looks like a film star! Tall, with black hair and blue eyes, and this unbelievable jawline,' she said, gesturing vaguely towards her own. 'But don't feel bad. You're lovely too, in your own non-film-star way. But they should really pay him to model underwear too, unless he's flabby. You can never tell with wizards, after all.'

Harry stiffened, and Gemma's friends looked at him in astonishment. 'Don't tell me you're modelling underwear!' said Tyler.

Gemma caught herself and said, 'No, of course not—he's the head of a Noble and Most Ancient House. It's just a joke we have on the team, about how famous he is.'

They seemed to buy it, and Harry relaxed. 'You're clearly having a good time,' he told Gemma, and her friends said they were as well.

'You're a fantastic host,' said Caroline. 'And it's great seeing Gemma like this. She became so timid in wizarding settings after the war, but now she's back to her old self.'

'And then some!' said Tyler. 'Apparently all it took was a tiara from the world's most famous wizard. If only we'd known!'

Harry excused himself, but before he left Gemma threw her arms around him and said, 'I'm so glad I met you! Even if you are a great bloody toff.'

'I'm glad I met you too,' he said, extricating himself, and he headed towards the stairs. He felt uneasy about Gemma's behaviour, and he began to suspect Lisa was right. But she wasn't grabby, and she seemed happy to stay with her mates, he thought, so he hoped her crush was relatively harmless.

He was lost in thought as he passed through the entrance hall and nearly collided with Lydia, who was with her boyfriend, looking at Padfoot. 'Oh dear, I'm sorry,' he said, before realising who it was. 'Lydia! Er, hi,' he added awkwardly.

She was wearing a Muggle business suit, only without a necktie, and the shirt and waistcoat were partially unbuttoned. But instead of tying her hair back, as many women had done, she wore it loose and tousled, as it had looked during their most intimate moments together. Between that and her red, pouty lips, Harry's first coherent thought was 'Definitely still ruined.'

'Hello, Harry,' she said. 'I wondered when we'd run into you. This is Marcus Waite, whom I'm certain I mentioned more than once.'

Sweet Merlin—Janet and Gemma weren't kidding, he thought. Lydia certainly traded up! 'It's nice to meet you, Marcus. And yes, I've heard about how you helped the resistance from within the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. That was tremendous, really.'

'There was no alternative, as far as I was concerned,' said Marcus. 'And it's a pleasure finally to meet you, although this isn't how I imagined I'd be dressed.' He looked down at his ball gown, which Harry recognised as one of Lydia's.

'Neither did I, but I'm glad Lydia suggested it.'

They chatted politely for a minute before Marcus said, 'We've been dancing for the last hour, but we came down for a bite to eat. Lydia, shall I bring you something?'

'Yes, one of those raspberry tarts,' she said, waving him away.

Harry assumed Marcus had disappeared on purpose, so he waited for Lydia to speak. 'You hurt me terribly,' she said. 'I know I should never have sent you there, and that you couldn't have been expected to resist, but–' She paused and took a deep breath. 'You said you loved me. And I believed it.'

Harry sighed heavily. 'I wasn't lying,' he said. 'I meant it from the bottom of my heart. But you know what my Light magic is like ... I get overwhelmed by love sometimes. And having you here with me was the happiest I'd ever been, so of course I fell in love, in a way.'

'In a way!' she exclaimed, her eyes flashing. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'I'm sorry, that came out wrong. The fact is, I've come to realise how needy I am. It's probably dead mum trauma, but there it is. You treated me like I was perfect, and I ate it up.'

She still looked upset, but she didn't argue, and Harry continued. 'But it was more than that: you're beautiful, and brilliant, and probably more of a Gryffindor than I ever was. I loved watching you come alive, in every possible way. It was like watching a butterfly emerge—that's how amazing you are.'

Lydia was biting her lip, possibly in an attempt not to cry. 'So I wasn't just one of your ... tarts?'

'What? No! How can you think that?'

She looked at him sceptically and said nothing.

'All right, I know why you'd think that. But no, not at all.' With a cheeky half-smile he said, 'For one thing, I kick them out the next morning. A few of them are here tonight, since everyone I know owled me for an invitation. But you definitely aren't in that category.'

She still looked emotional. 'I just felt so foolish,' she said. 'Like I must have been blind or something.'

'Then I'm blind too, because I never thought I'd cheat on you. I haven't been back there, you know.'

'To the brothel? Even though they didn't charge you?'

'No. I'll never go there again. I lost control, and I hurt you.'

Lydia began crying in earnest, and Harry gave her a handkerchief. 'No, I'm all right,' she sniffled, wiping her nose. 'I just felt so naive and stupid for thinking I meant something to you. And I was ashamed of ... what happened at your party.'

For a moment he was lost, until he remembered her Light magic. 'You were ashamed? No, you were magnificent! Please tell me you still experience it!'

'No. Not since you betrayed me.'

Harry felt heartsick. 'Lydia, I'm so sorry. I hope you realise now that you weren't stupid or naive. In fact ...' He paused before continuing. 'You're my only girlfriend who's experienced it. Not Sophie or Alex. Just you. And maybe it's because you allowed yourself to fall in love. I don't know—I'm just guessing.'

For a long moment she just studied him, but then she took his hand. 'Do it,' she said.

'Light magic? I assume you'd rather I didn't glow.'

'Yes, if you can avoid it.'

Ignoring the passers-by, Harry allowed his Light magic to arise, and he willed it to flow into his hand. Forgive me, he thought.

Lydia's eyelids fluttered, and she gasped slightly. 'Where's Marcus?' she asked. 'I told him to give us time alone, but I want him back now.'

He saw Marcus standing just inside the dining room. Catching his eye, Harry motioned for him to return.

Lydia let go Harry's hand and took a bite from the raspberry tart Marcus had brought her. After a faint moan of pleasure, she said, 'Marcus, it's divine. Just like I had in France—you should try some.'

'I already ate one,' he admitted. 'While I was waiting. And yes, it's good.'

'Harry, I think you and Marcus should get to know each other. Not now, of course—I want to dance again after this. But you're both blood traitors and you have a lot of the same goals. And yes, I know half-bloods technically aren't blood traitors, but that's what Esme and Charles call you now, so apparently you've been promoted. Have you seen them?'

'Yes. It was memorable, as always.'

'Charles threw a fit when Esme told him about the invitation. First he blamed me, for inflicting you on the family in the first place, and then he blamed Esme for wanting to attend. But she and I had it all planned out, and he overheard us talking about him. She said, "Charles says it's undignified to wear women's clothing, but I think he's afraid Potter will outshine him. Potter may be a blood traitor, but he definitely knows how to dress."'

Harry chuckled and asked, 'Did he owl his tailor or just Apparate there directly?'

'The latter.'

They said goodbye, and Harry paused to enjoy his Light magic. This is how I hoped how my parties would be, he thought with satisfaction. He hadn't been dancing yet, but it was barely ten o'clock, and he wasn't the least bit tired. And even though he'd done nothing but talk to guests all evening, the freedom to circulate made him feel almost normal.

'Harry?' said a familiar voice, and he turned to find Helena.

'Helena!' he exclaimed. 'How are you? It's wonderful to see you.'

She's still exceptionally lovely, he thought, ardently admiring her soft curls and wide-set eyes. Oh, bugger, I should withdraw my Light magic, or else she'll think I'm in love with her.

'It's good to see you too,' she said. 'And I'm well. Has it only been two and half months since your birthday? It seems like a lifetime ago.'

'I suppose it has been,' he replied, a little embarrassed by how many partners he'd had since then. 'But I'll have you know I haven't proposed to anyone else.'

Helena laughed. 'I never dreamed my suggestion would turn into a cultural phenomenon!'

'Suggestion? You extracted a promise!'

'You're right, I did. And yes, you've been a model of non-monogamy.' Glancing at Padfoot, she said, 'I'm sure Sirius would be proud.'

'Honestly, I have no idea,' said Harry. 'I know next to nothing about his private life. All I know is that he wanted me to be happy.'

She looked at him earnestly. 'And have you been?'

'Mostly. It hasn't been easy, keeping your vow. But flying is brilliant, and then there's Light magic ...'

'Oh, right! May I see you glow?' He allowed his Light magic to resurge, and she initially covered her eyes. 'Unbelievable!' she said. 'I've never met anyone so capable of attracting attention without actually wanting it.'

Everyone in entrance hall and on the stairs was looking at him, and he dimmed his glow. 'That's not strictly true. I've realised I crave attention, on some level at least.'

'And why wouldn't you?' she said tenderly. 'I do too, but not in the same way.'

He studied her expression and saw a sadness he'd never previously noticed. 'What do you want? It occurs to me I never asked.'

'I wouldn't have told you. And there was no need to ask—it was just a fling, remember?'

'I remember all too well. But what do you want now?' he said quietly, feeling a familiar longing for her.

For a moment she seemed spellbound and didn't speak. But then she closed her eyes and looked away. 'You've actually found a way to be more seductive—I wouldn't have thought it possible. Thank goodness men don't normally wear makeup!'

'I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to pressure you,' he said sincerely. 'This might just be the longest we've talked in public at one of my parties, and old habits die hard.'

'I'm actually here with someone, as you may recall.'

'Right, where is he?' asked Harry. 'Or are you hiding from him.'

She laughed and said, 'No, I'm not hiding. He's in the next room, catching up with an old friend. I'd introduce you, but I'd rather keep you separate somehow. Worlds colliding, you know.'

'Do you like him? Or is it just a fling?'

'It's not an either-or,' she said. 'I was terribly fond of you, after all. If we were older, things might have gone differently.'

It could still happen, he thought. But he didn't want to lead her on, so he just nodded.

'In answer to your question, I do like him. He's very private as well, so it's a slow process, but it feels right.'

'Good luck, then. And tell him he's a lucky man.'

They said goodbye, and Harry's mood was bittersweet as he walked downstairs to the sitting room. But he was jarred into the present by Rita Skeeter calling his name. 'Harry, darling! I was afraid I'd have to come find you, but here you are! And oh my god, your eyes! Don't even bother claiming you're going to bed alone tonight, because you won't fool anyone.'

'I made no such claim,' he said. She and Timothy were occupying a loveseat, and Harry sat opposite them on an ottoman. 'How are you doing? Have my house-elves had to punish you at all?'

'Only once,' she said breezily. 'I tried breaking your rules, just to see what would happen—I pressed Ginny Weasley about her lesbian lover—and suddenly I found myself alone in your potions lab. You're not much of a brewer, are you?'

'Er, no,' said Harry. 'Hermione uses it from time to time, but otherwise I never set foot in there.'

'I should think not! Anyway, other than that, your guests have been more than willing to talk to me. I had a long chat with Alistair earlier, and even Draco Malfoy was friendly—he invited me to the Manor next week to cover his engagement. Which is interesting, since his mother owled me this afternoon urging me to wait.'

'Oh? What will you do?'

'I'll wait—these things usually resolve themselves. But tell me, darling, what do you think of the bride presumptive?'

'I don't know her very well,' he said. 'But from what I've seen, they're very much in love, and I think they'll make a good couple.' There, that wasn't a lie, was it?

'Interesting,' said Rita. 'I had a different impression, but perhaps I'm too cynical.'

Harry let her statement pass. 'Have you been upstairs? Visited your favourite stairwell, for old time's sake?'

'What a memory you have! Timothy and I haven't been to the roof yet, but I spent ages poring over the Black family tapestry. I'm sure you have your hands full, with all those new cousins!'

'What are you implying exactly?'

She leaned towards him. 'Lisa Black is awfully pretty, and I'm certain I've seen those robes before.'

'She is pretty, and I loaned them to her. We're friends, after all.'

'Perhaps. But I defy any unattached witch to turn down a night in that bed of yours.'

Harry shrugged. 'We're just friends. And Lisa has no lack of admirers.'

'Indeed. But don't rule it out—you'd look splendid together. And speaking of attractive witches, I hear you'll be making an even bigger splash abroad than anticipated. Did you really have to endure a casting session during your celibacy vow?'

'I did, and during the photo shoot as well. And no, I didn't lie about keeping my vow.'

'You're a marvel! And never boring—not anymore. But don't let me keep you! I insist you and your gorgeous eyes go mesmerise Lisa Black or some other lucky witch.' Harry moved to stand up, but Rita grabbed his hand. 'And in thanks for your hospitality, I hereby promise that the Prophet won't reveal your partner's identity. I can't guarantee what the other publications will do if your guests catch you in the act, but I won't betray you.'

'Cheers,' said Harry, rising to his feet. 'I'm glad you both could make it, and remember: my house-elves are still watching you.'

Rita cackled and bade him goodbye, turning her attention back to Timothy. I should really check on Kreacher, he thought, walking to the kitchen.

'Kreacher?' he called. 'Are you in here?'

Crack! 'No, Master,' said the elf. 'Kreacher was on the roof, attending to Master's guests. And to get away from the crying witch.'

'What!' exclaimed Harry. 'Who are you talking about?'

'Kreacher does not know the witch's name, but she invaded the kitchen.'

'Where is she? Is she all right?'

'She is in the back garden, Master,' said Kreacher cheerfully. 'When she entered the kitchen, she said she was looking for somewhere private, and Kreacher showed her the door.'

'You just sent her outside, all alone?' cried Harry, rushing towards the back entrance. 'And then you went to the roof?'

'She wanted to be alone, Master. Kreacher was helping. Perhaps Master should leave as well.'

Harry took a deep breath. Kreacher meant well, he thought. 'That was very kind of you, but next time please let me know if someone's alone and crying.'

'Yes, Master! Does Master require Kreacher now, or should Kreacher go look for more crying guests?'

Oh for Merlin's sake, thought Harry, impatient to get outside. 'Don't hunt them down or anything. But if you run across someone, please tell me about it. And you may go.'

'Yes, Master!' Crack!

Harry tentatively opened the back door. 'Excuse me, are you all right? Do you need something?'

The witch, who was sitting on a stone bench, turned to face him. 'Harry? What are you doing here?'

'Fiona! What's the matter?' Approaching her, he said, 'May I join you?'

It was dark out, but her tears shone in the light from the kitchen window. 'If you must,' she said. 'But I came here to be alone.'

Harry was no expert, but he suspected she didn't mean it. 'I'll stay a few minutes at least,' he said, sitting next to her. 'I'd have to be a lousy host to ignore you. Not to mention a lousy friend.'

'You're not the problem,' she said, sniffling. 'You were terribly sweet to invite me.'

He reached in his pocket for a handkerchief but realised he'd given it to Lydia. What does it say about me that this is my second crying witch of the night? he wondered. 'Then what's the problem?' he asked. 'Can I help somehow?'

She shook her head, and more tears rolled down her cheeks. Harry conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her as she cried.

'Do you need to talk? I can listen, at least.'

Scowling, she said, 'Why is that so hard! You barely know me, and yet you figured out in thirty seconds that maybe I just need a sympathetic ear.'

Harry had a growing sense of the problem. Her school friends, he thought. Owen said she thought they weren't supportive enough. 'Did something specific happen?' he asked. 'Or are these generalised tears?'

'Both. I don't know why I even try with our old friends anymore. I keep thinking maybe this time they'll get it, but they never do. Instead they gush about how great it is to see me out and about, and that we should really get together sometime.'

'And you don't want that?'

'Not what they're imagining,' she said. 'They want the old Fiona, or someone who looks and sounds like me but bounced right back like nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, there's only this Fiona, who's a walking reminder that sometimes things don't work out for the best.'

Harry was puzzled. 'How can they possibly not realise that? Where were they for the last few years?'

'I know, right? They lost Rob too, and others besides. But god forbid they upend their belief that they personally couldn't lose nearly everything that matters. That they couldn't see their whole life replaced by an empty hole. No, that would never happen! Things always work out for the best!'

Without thinking, Harry put his arm around her. 'I'm so sorry. I can't relate exactly, but I know how maddening it is when people don't understand. Grief is bad enough, but to feel abandoned on top of it ...'

'Exactly. And they don't even realise it,' said Fiona. 'On the contrary, they complain to Jill about how they've tried repeatedly to be there for me, but I keep pushing them away.' She turned to him and said, 'Am I pushing you away right now? Am I?'

'Maybe a little at first, but otherwise no. And I don't understand either why it's so hard for people just to listen, and be there for someone.'

'They're afraid. They don't want to believe life is like that. I suspect it's worse for wizards, because we like to think we can fix anything. "Just Reparo it! See! Good as new!"'

Harry shook his head sadly. 'If only. I can think of a million things I'd fix,' he said, picturing Sirius, Tonks, and the others he'd lost.

She leaned into him and said, 'You get it. I wish you didn't, for your own sake, but you really get it. God, people always forget what you've been through! If I had a Sickle for every time I've heard someone say how lucky you are.'

'I know,' he said, noting how good it felt to have his arm around her. 'I'm used to it. And you're right, people don't like to think about just how wrong things can go. So of course they focus on the positive.'

'"Focus on the positive!"' she said brightly. '"You still have Matthew!" Yes, and he probably won't even remember his father, even though he looks just like him.' She stiffened and said, 'Oh my god, I'm so sorry.'

'It's all right,' said Harry, stroking her shoulder. 'Actually, I do have a few memories of my parents, in a way, and Sirius told me stories. I've even heard about my grandfather lately—apparently I'm like him too, in character at least.'

'Really? In what respect?'

Is she asking if he was a manwhore? he wondered. 'He was ambitious and had a knack for business. Which I can't believe describes me now, but apparently anything can change.'

They sat in silence, his arm still around her, and Harry was glad she didn't pull away. I wonder how much physical contact she gets, other than from her son, he thought.

'I don't know what I'd do without Jill,' she said. 'Owen too, but Jill in particular. I suppose it helps we have kids near the same age, but she didn't pull away like the others did. And she doesn't insist on imposing a timeline on my grief.'

Harry asked, 'What does that mean exactly?'

She turned to face him again. 'It means she doesn't have an agenda about when I'm supposed to feel normal—or even a definition of what "normal" is. When I'm with other people, I can almost see them calculating how long it's been since Rob died. "It's been six months now," they'll say. "Maybe it's time to start dating." Or after a year, when they started dropping hints about Matthew needing a sibling.'

'Bugger that!' blurted Harry, and Fiona laughed. 'Er, I'm sorry. But how would they know when you're ready to move on?'

'Exactly! But that's the tyranny of "Everything works out for the best." If I'd just get on with my life, and be even happier and more fulfilled than before, then they could rest assured they won't be shafted by fate like I was.'

Harry let out a hollow laugh. 'Shafted by fate ... I can definitely relate to that one.'

She located his hand on her shoulder and stroked it. 'Thanks. I mean, I'm sorry too ... no one should ever have to feel like this. But it's nice to feel understood.'

They were silent again, and Harry felt a wave of something resembling Light magic. Is this love? he thought. It encompassed what he'd thought of as love, including desire, but also a sense of rootedness and strength.

'You should probably go inside,' she said eventually. 'People will start wondering where you've gone.'

He didn't want to leave her. 'But what about you? I can't just leave you here.'

'I can go home,' she said. 'Is the kitchen fireplace on the Floo network?'

'Don't go yet,' he said impulsively. 'It's not even eleven. Or do you have to relieve the babysitter?'

'No, Matthew's spending the night with Kate and Liza, and Owen's mum is minding them.'

He looked at her and said, 'Then dance with me. I haven't even been to the roof yet—please, I insist.'

She bit her lips, but he could see she was pleased. 'All right. Could I rinse my face, though?'

'Yes, there's a loo off the sitting room, or the kitchen sink if you prefer. But don't do it on my account—you look lovely,' he said sincerely. Her eyes shone with emotion, and her eyelashes were damp and stuck together. He wanted desperately to kiss her, but he also knew it wasn't time yet. She needs to feel safe, he thought.

'Flatterer,' she said, laughing, and they went back inside. She stopped at the sink to splash her face, which fortunately had little effect.

Before they left the kitchen, he said, 'We should probably talk the whole time we're walking, or else someone might waylay us. I can babble if you prefer, but otherwise I'd love to hear you talk.'

She paused to think. 'What should I talk about? I can't just whinge about my mates.'

'What about your work? Owen said you're up to your eyeballs preparing for the gala.'

'Now you've done it. I'm sure you'll be bored to tears by the time we reach the roof, and you'll be grateful I'll have to shut up while we're dancing.'

Harry shook his head. 'More likely we'll be thirsty from climbing all those stairs, and we'll have a drink before even hitting the dance floor. And I really should have offered you one earlier, which proves what a lousy host I am.'

'You're a fantastic host,' she said, launching into a description of her job and the auction itself. 'This year's gala will be huge. This is only my second year working for WORF, but tickets sold out much earlier than last year, and we get owls every day asking when the auction catalogue will be ready. My boss dropped hints to several major collectors that we'll have a one-of-a-kind item with worldwide appeal, and they're all dying to know what it is.

'I'm sorry, but that's completely daft,' said Harry. 'Don't these people have anything better to spend money on?'

'Like tailored robes?' she smirked. 'Or flowers?'

'I get a discount on both,' he said stiffly. 'But you're right—I shouldn't judge, particularly since they're supporting a good cause.'

'So are you. And thanks again—your monthly subscription is making a tremendous difference.'

They attracted considerable notice climbing the stairs together, and even more when they paused for drinks before dancing. The roof was packed with guests, some of whom Harry hadn't spoken to yet, but he kept his 'Leave me alone' wards firmly in place.

'For your information, I'm doing my best "Glare-y Potter," right now,' he said, directing it at her.

Fiona looked cowed for a moment, then burst into giggles. 'It's even better with eye makeup,' she said. 'You really need to start wearing it all the time.'

'God no! But I'm serious about women in fitted robes. Yours are fantastic, by the way.'

She looked down, her expression bittersweet. 'They were Rob's. He needed to look the part during the final year of the war, to avoid suspicion. Before that he mostly wore loose robes over Muggle clothes, since he enjoyed getting lunch in Muggle London.'

'An Unspeakable at a chip shop?' said Harry. 'There's something I never imagined.'

'No, he usually just ate a Cornish pasty, or maybe a sandwich from M&S,' she said. 'He liked to walk while eating, even if it was cold out. He used to complain about how dark it was in the Department of Mysteries.'

'It was dark,' said Harry, recalling the night Sirius had died. 'So's the DMLE, now you mention it, but not as bad as the DOM. Yet another reason I prefer playing for the Cannons.'

They continued to chat until she finished her drink, and then he led her to the dance floor. At first they danced normally, a few feet apart, but too many witches tried to divide them. With Fiona's permission, Harry drew her closer, wishing Ryan would play a slow song. He was tempted to telepathically ask Kreacher to intervene, but the elf was no longer on the roof and Harry didn't want to bother him.

Owen and Jill joined them after the second song. 'Fiona, I'd given up trying to find you, but here you are!' said Jill. 'Where were you?'

'I needed some fresh air,' she said. 'And then I ran into Harry, and he insisted I dance before heading home.'

Owen shot Harry a questioning look, and Harry tried not to roll his eyes. You're my coach, not my mum, he thought, and Fiona's capable of making her own decisions. 'Does that mean you're leaving soon?' Owen asked her.

'Don't be such a stick in the mud,' said Jill. 'She'll be nose to the grindstone for the next fortnight, and she deserves a break.'

'Thanks, but Owen's right,' said Fiona. 'Matthew will want my attention tomorrow morning, and I'd rather not be knackered. Harry, thanks so much for dragging me up here. It's been a lot of fun.'

Blast, she's leaving, he thought. He didn't expect to go to bed with her, but he at least hoped to say goodbye in private. 'You're welcome, and I'm so glad you came. May I walk you downstairs?'

'No, you clearly need to keep dancing. I'll owl you this week about your glasses and those books.'

He grabbed her hand, in spite of Owen. 'Maybe I can drop them off over lunch. I've never actually seen WORF headquarters.'

Harry saw Owen's jaw tighten, but Jill looked pleased. 'That sounds good,' said Fiona before excusing herself. Jill followed her down, leaving Owen with Harry.

'I know what you're going to say,' said Harry. 'And I'm sorry, but you can't stop me from dating her if she's interested.'

'Is she interested? She seemed keen to leave.'

'I can't speak for her, but maybe—I don't know. I'd at least like to get to know her better.'

Owen sighed. 'You're right, I can't stop you. And Jill looked positively chuffed. But please, don't toy with her.'

'I wouldn't do that. I genuinely like her, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her.'

His expression sceptical, Owen said, 'Does that mean you'll go to bed alone tonight?'

'That's none of your business,' said Harry firmly.

Owen took a deep breath and nodded. 'You're right. And Fiona's an adult.'

'And I'm not?'

'I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it. And maybe you would be good for her—Jill seems to think so.'

Harry irritation towards Owen faded. 'Thanks for saying so. And I think I'll have a drink now—I've mostly abstained, but I expect I'm done with deep conversation for the night.'

'Good, you should enjoy yourself,' said Owen. 'And I'll go find Jill.'

Harry went to the rooftop bar, where Flauby was serving drinks and desserts. He took a slice of tarte Tatin and a glass of beer, which he consumed at one of the tables in the rose garden, with several Hogwarts friends for company.

This is all normal, he thought with satisfaction. I'm not holding court, or being hounded by Rita Skeeter. I spent time with a woman I fancy, and now I get to dance with all my mates.

Harry honestly didn't know whether he'd take someone to bed that night, and he didn't care. All his attention was on the present moment, and he hadn't the slightest wish to be anywhere else.