A Chance Encounter:
A/N I own nothing... which will be more than obvious before the end of this.
A gust of wind violently disturbed a mane of silvery blonde hair, whipping it into the face of the person attached to it. Gabrielle Delacour huffed angrily and tried to do something with it, not daring to cast any hair management or wind repelling charms in the crowd of muggles. Eventually she gave up, succeeding only in further frustrating herself. A chuckle from beside her caused her to turn and glare. Her eyes softened as she saw an old friend.
Harry Potter watched the young lady play with her hair. He had recognized her at once, she was the little sister of Bill's wife, the little girl he had pulled from the Hogwarts lake in his fourth year, and now a very beautiful woman. He couldn't help himself, when she stopped and let out an indignant puff of breath, he had to laugh. He was in for it now. He shouldn't have done that… But after a moment's death glare, a series of emotions flashed in her eyes.
The two of them sat at a booth in the Three Broomsticks, catching up. They hadn't seen each other in almost three years, and that was at Ginny's wedding, before that meeting was Bill and Fleur's wedding.
"So, 'Arry, are you still an auror?" She asked, as Madam Rosmerta left to prepare their food. "Ron says 'e 'as a new partner now."
"Oh, no," Harry waved his hand dismissively, "It got boring after most of the Death Eaters were captured. We never had anything to do. Now I'm doing the same thing, but I work alone, outside of ministry rules and sometimes outside of the law."
"Do you mean-"
"No, I've never killed anyone, not since Voldemort. I mean that I sometimes break into the homes of the people I'm after, things like that. Charges that never hold up when the prisoners accuse me of things."
Gabrielle nodded. Harry was far from the shy boy that she remembered from the Triwizard Tournament, and the cold man she knew at Bill's wedding. Her mind ran away from her as she remembered an old fantasy she had thought she buried deep in her mind. She and Harry were dancing on a rooftop in the moonlight, Paris glowing in the background, a passionate kiss in a crowded restaurant, she let herself remember her childhood crush and her numerous fantasies with Harry until a wedding dress flickered into her mind. "No!" she thought, "That's enough! I'm not a silly little girl anymore, and I refuse to act like it. We're not even close friends! Why should I think of that?" She was snapped back to reality when Harry waved his hand in front of her face.
"I'm sorry, 'Arry, I blanked out for a moment." She blushed; glad he couldn't read her mind.
Harry laughed, causing her to blush a darker shade of crimson. "It's ok, I asked what you're doing these days."
"Oh, I'm a low level employee in ze Department of International Magical Cooperation. I was sent 'ere by ze French Ministry last month." She replied.
Harry nodded; he hadn't been in England long himself. He traveled all over the world hunting dark wizards, vampires, werewolves, and the like. "Your English has improved since the last time we met." He observed.
"Merci," she replied, making him laugh again.
They were both a little more than tipsy, but a little less than drunk when Harry asked whether she was seeing anyone.
"Non, my luck wiz men is far worse zan my seester's" her French accent was becoming more pronounced. "And you? Is zair a woman in your life?"
"No, no, there isn't anyone. Most people think I'm mad, which is a turn off for most people." Harry sighed and looked at the table.
"Zat's 'orrible! You are ze nicest man I know. Much better zan ze letches at ze Ministry. Any woman would be crazy not to want you!" Harry was glad that she was angry on his behalf, not many people were on his side anymore, outside of the Weasley family, or the Lupins. Without realizing he had actually moved, his lips were covering hers, their tongues dancing in a way that caused electricity to course through their bodies. The other patrons of the Three Broomsticks whistled and catcalled as they parted.
Harry and Gabrielle danced on a Parisian rooftop, her wedding robes billowing out around her, neon lights glowing in the background. Gabrielle Potter sighed happily and melted into her husband's arms. Her mind flashed back to the day in the Three Broomsticks when they had found each other. She thought of her childhood fantasies, of seeing herself the way she was now.
"Perhaps I did inherit the Sight from my grandmother after all," she thought as she tilted her head up to capture Harry's lips in a passionate kiss.