Harry
concentrated on the board in front of him.
Chess was one of the things in life that required a person to think
about strategy in advance, because blindly following a standard pattern and not
thinking far enough ahead meant certain defeat.
You didn't bring your queen out too early, because a crowded board
presented more opportunities for the other side to entrap her. You didn't use your king to attack, because
losing him meant losing the game, and rooks were most valuable at the end.
Harry didn't mind playing alone. It gave
him something to focus his full attention on.
Ron used to tease him that playing against himself was cheating, because
he would always know what he was going to do next. No
challenges, no surprises, his friend had said. But that was just the thing – Harry didn't know. Not if he kept himself honest. Not if he blocked out everything else and
just concentrated on the game. Sirius,
before his death, had taught Harry how much could be gained by finding out your
own strategic weaknesses. If you could
get through your own defences, anybody could.
And there was always at least one method of getting through even a
seemingly impenetrable defence. The more
holes you could find, the more ways you could think of to block them before
someone more dangerous found them too.
Every strategy had a counter strategy.
Even one lowly pawn could win or lose the whole game, just by being in
the right place at the right time.
This particular game was turning out to be rather complicated. White was mounting a strong defence, but black
was being very aggressive. It was hard
to say how things would go. As he
contemplated white's next move, a shadow fell across the table and a familiar
voice disturbed his quietude.
"Harry, darling!
May I join you?"
He didn't look up. "Even if I said no,
it wouldn't stop you, Fleur."
She took the seat across from him. "Tsk,
tsk. Is that any way to greet an old
friend?"
"I wasn't aware that we were ever friends," Harry answered. She laughed.
He looked up just long enough to catch the eye of the Maitre'd, and
motioned with his hand. Karl nodded and
disappeared behind the bar for a moment, returning just long enough to deposit
another glass of wine into Fleur's hand.
She took a long sip and sighed appreciatively.
"I've been looking forward to spending some time in Britain again. The climate here is so
... rich."
"Really," Harry replied casually,
moving his hand out of the way of the flying pieces as the black queen shattered
a white bishop with her sceptre. "I would
have thought it would be colder here than you normally prefer."
She chuckled, a dry, low sound. "Oh, don't worry about me. When I
travel, I come prepared for all kinds of weather." Her long, silvery
eyelashes swept downward and curtained her eyes as she took another sip of
wine. More chess pieces flew as a
white knight trampled a black pawn with merciless glee.
"Sadly, I'm not here on holiday," she sighed, setting her glass down
on the table. "It's business. But
this will probably be my last trip to England. After this I'll be able to
retire, and lead a comfortable life someplace that's warm all year round.
I've heard lovely things about California. I've always wanted to go to America, Harry, haven't you?"
Harry studied her carefully, trying to figure out what she was up to. He could tell she was baiting him, trying to
draw him out into a little game of cat and mouse. But he couldn't see why yet,
and he wasn't all that interested in taking up where she had left off.
Still, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. She'd distracted him just
enough from the game so that no matter what else white did, there was going to
be a checkmate in three more moves. So
he leaned back in his chair and finally gave her the flirtatious smile she
expected.
"Why, Fleur, have you finally seduced some rich old codger into leaving
you his fortune?" He saw her eyes flash in response. Now the
game was afoot.
Reaching into her cloak, she drew out a small bundle, wrapped in a soft bag of
brown leather. "This, Harry, is my retirement package. What's
in this bag is so valuable that after I meet with my client tomorrow, I won't
have any worries for the rest of my life. I can lie on the beach,
drinking those Muggle concoctions with the little paper umbrellas in them,
being waited on hand and foot by handsome young men." Her eyes were
dreamy, and Harry began to think she'd had a bit more than one glass of wine
before she'd found him.
"That sounds lovely," he said. "So what is it?"
She smiled. "Just a little something a client wants, for a private
collection. That's what I do, after all.
I help people acquire things. Now, about that - I've come to ask you for a
tiny favour."
Ah, he thought, here comes the hook.
"And what would that be?"
She batted her eyelashes at him, tossing her silvery hair back over one
shoulder with her free hand. Oh, this was going to be good, Harry thought.
She leaned across the table to whisper conspiratorially, giving Harry a full
view of exactly how low cut her gown was. "I need you to hold onto
this for me tonight. I don't want to put it in the hotel vault with the
other guest valuables. Not that I question your security measures,
darling, but I'll feel much better if it is not kept in such an obvious
place. My business reputation, you
understand, is entirely dependent on my ability to deliver as promised." She glanced around furtively. "There are certain – people - who must not be
allowed to get their hands on this."
She took Harry's hand in her own, and placed the pouch into it. Her
fingers were slim and surprisingly warm. Using both hands, she closed his
fingers around the pouch and held them in place. He could feel something
round and hard through the supple leather; light, but solid. He mimicked her tone. "Certain people? What certain people? Are you in danger?"
"No, no, of course not. But one
never knows, eh? Listen, there are other
people I could ask to do this, Harry, but you're the only person I trust not to
misplace it, or sell it behind my back.
I know it will be safe with you.
This is a very rare and desirable object, and it, too, is powerful. If it were to fall into the wrong hands - " she trailed off, unwilling to finish the statement. "Please, Harry, hold this for me and keep it
safe. Just until tomorrow night, and
then I'll be away from here for good, and I won't trouble you again."
Harry shook his head. "Sorry,
Fleur. You'll have to do better
than that. You're asking me to put my
business and possibly myself at risk, and you won't
tell me what this is or what it's for?"
She dismissed his remark with a wave of her delicately manicured
hand. "Don't make it sound so dramatic. I have a valuable object to deliver to a
paying client, and I need a safe place and a trustworthy person to keep it for
me overnight. I'm willing to make it worth your while." Her
eyes travelled up and down his body in a way that left no doubt as to what she
would prefer that he ask of her in return.
He pretended not to notice. "If this –
object – is as valuable as you claim, I'm not sure that I'm comfortable with it
–or you - being here at all. I don't
want any trouble. As a businesswoman, I'm sure you understand
that I have my own interests to protect.
And you haven't satisfied my curiosity enough for me to say yes."
Her gaze was intent upon his face, studying him for any indication she might
get her way. She brightened
suddenly. "Would it help convince you if
I told you that soon another old friend of yours will be arriving – one that
you will be very happy to see? Is that
enough to pique your interest?"
Harry's eyes flickered toward a movement in the doorway, then back to hers, the
corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. "Well, what do you
know? It seems that's the most straightforward thing you've said all
night."
Fleur frowned a little, and turned to see what had caught Harry's
attention. Chief Regional Auror Ronald Weasley, accompanied by several
uniformed female officers, had entered the dining room and was approaching
their table.