Author's note:

I find myself planning elaborate Author's notes during the week, when I'm making lunch, etc., but whenever it comes time to publish I can't be bothered to write one. So all I'll share right now is a recommendation. It's a one-shot called "On My Life and Magic" by the legendary White Squirrel, and it lampoons the overused trope of magical vows. I also recommend White Squirrel's longer fics, but be warned that they have tons of Mortal Peril, unlike my fic which only depicts social anxiety. Which, based on some of your reviews, you fear more than Mortal Peril.

Because there's enough peril and anxiety in the world right now, I'll reveal that Harry will not lose his spot on the Cannons. Some reviewers expressed worry/anger that Gemma beat him in a practice match, which obviously means he's a mediocre Quidditch player and that I've once again "nerfed" him. To which I say, pffft. My Harry is extremely good at Quidditch—he'll be up there with Krum when he has more experience—but there are other good players as well.

If you prefer stories where Harry is more powerful than Merlin and incalculably wealthy (and where lordships aren't bollocks), just read nearly any other fanfic. "Harry Crow" by Robst is a shining example, and I enjoyed it tremendously. But I wanted to write a slightly more relatable Harry, so if you're disappointed that he's only a Light Arts prodigy, a world-class Seeker, "ordinary loaded" (to quote Romilda Vane), preternaturally charismatic, and a sex god, then you should probably look elsewhere.

Hmm, it looks like I wrote a longish Author's note after all! Stay safe :)

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Harry ate lunch on Wednesday with Victor and Sandra—the Cannons legal team—to go over the details of the contract with Narcissa Malfoy. He told them what he'd learnt about Draco's wand, that it was no longer capable of Dark magic, and Victor answered Harry's questions about blood oaths.

'They're less useful than you'd think, because they only work for preventing future physical actions. So you can't take a blood oath guaranteeing you'll do something—that requires an Unbreakable Vow. You also can't take a blood oath attesting to something you've already done—that requires Veritaserum. Furthermore, the Ministry can't force anyone take a blood oath because it's blood magic, which is only permitted with uncoerced consent.'

Harry said, 'I only recently learnt about blood oaths, from someone whose wife demanded on his wedding night that he take an oath never to sleep with a prostitute. By the sound of it, his consent wasn't exactly "uncoerced."'

Victor and Sandra both gasped. 'That qualifies as Dark magic, for multiple reasons,' explained Victor. 'First, they'd probably just established a marriage bond, which is extremely compelling for the first several days.'

'Yes, he said the bond was still fresh.'

'Second, it sounds like he was already in what might be called a vulnerable state,' continued Victor.

'I think so. The bride was a traditional pure-blood, which meant she was a virgin. So I reckon he was out of his mind by that point.'

'Exactly, which unfortunately explains how she was able to make the oath lifelong. You see, blood oaths seldom last more than a year—there's simply not enough magic in a normal drop of blood. And I apologise for the mental image, but there's only one source of wizard's blood that would have sufficient magical potency.'

Harry blanched. 'Not ...' He trailed off.

'Oh yes,' said Sandra, her eyes gleaming. 'I can scarcely imagine blood more powerful than a drop taken from a newlywed hard-on, with the scantily-clad, virginal bride holding the wand. Her husband could live to be two hundred and never touch a prostitute—she definitely knew what she was doing.'

'Right, I have no intention of doing that to Draco Malfoy.'

'No, of course not,' said Victor. 'His oath only needs to last ten months. Ordinary fingertip blood will be fine.'

Harry caught the Snitch during the practice match that afternoon, and when he flew to the benches Rita Skeeter was there, along with the Cannons publicity director, Susanna. Rita briefly interviewed Tuttle and Harry's teammates for their perspective on his Light magic. She seemed particularly interested in Ryan, who by contrast seemed particularly inclined to avoid her, but she eventually got a quote out of him.

After showering, Harry ran into Gemma outside the locker room. 'Nice robes, Toffer!' she exclaimed. 'And you don't usually wear flowers right after practice. Does this mean you're going where I think you're going?'

'Yes, my plan is to visit Pratt's regularly until the Wizengamot session next week. I need to win over the voting members—particularly the lords. And yes, I already owled my tailor for a hat.'

'Not your hatter?'

'I don't have a hatter,' said Harry. 'And besides, it turns out the hatters' guild refuses to make Wizengamot lords' hats, in protest against how ghastly they are.'

'Are you serious? I've looked inside some of those hat shops, and the hats ranged from mildly naff to completely revolting.'

'I know,' said Harry, recalling the hat Neville's grandmother always wore, which featured a stuffed vulture. 'But Sandra did some research and discovered there was a pitched battle over the lords' hat in 1707, because the lords designed it themselves, and the hatters' guild passed a by-law against ever making them. There's nothing to prevent them from changing the by-laws, but by now it's a point of pride. And hardly anyone needs to purchase the hat, since they're usually passed down within families.'

'That's fascinating!' exclaimed Gemma, smirking. 'Someone really needs to write a play about it.'

When Harry arrived at Pratt's, he looked at the register and saw two names he'd been dreading: Romulus Wynter and Magnus Travers. Brilliant, he thought. Davina's father and Lydia's grandfather. He hoped he could at least speak with them separately, since he didn't fancy being outnumbered. But he was almost relieved to see Charles Selwyn's name in the register, since Selwyn had been more than civil during Harry's last visit, and he might have information about Lydia.

Harry didn't see any of them in the dining room or library, so he proceeded to the lounge. I'm not looking for them in France, he thought. Although at least they'd be in a good mood afterwards.

He entered the lounge and saw Selwyn conversing with another young wizard, whom Harry vaguely recognised from Hogwarts. 'Potter,' called Selwyn, waving him over. 'Do you know Higgs?'

'Yes, of course,' said Harry, joining them. 'You played Seeker for Slytherin during my first year. It's good to see you again.'

'Likewise, Potter,' said Higgs, shaking Harry's hand. 'Welcome to Pratt's, and congratulations on making the membership committee squirm. I understand you waited three whole days before saying you'd join.'

'I didn't realise I was making a statement. Honestly, I was just busy.'

'Not with Lydia,' said Selwyn. 'I understand she sent you packing after I saw you on Thursday.'

Harry sighed. 'Yes, I'm afraid so. That certainly wasn't how I wanted things to end. I feel terrible about hurting her.'

'Don't worry, you did her an enormous favour,' said Selwyn. 'She came crying to Esme that very night—looking like a perfect angel in her dressing gown, I might add—and she slept in our spare bedroom. Desmond was there by morning, and Lydia was completely forgiven.'

'Does that mean she's moved back in with her parents?' said Harry, alarmed.

'Oh no,' said Selwyn reassuringly. 'Daddy's little girl gets to keep her flat, only now she has an allowance and doesn't need to touch her own vault. I get the impression that as long as she's discreet, she's free to do whatever she likes. Salazar Slytherin himself couldn't have manipulated anyone more thoroughly.'

'What about her mother?' asked Harry.

'Isobel is still furious, but she doesn't control the purse-strings, so it hardly matters.'

'And her grandfather?'

Selwyn craned his head. 'He's in here somewhere. I'm sure he's relieved you're out of the picture. Desmond tried negotiating your marriage, as you may recall, but you and Lydia refused with impressive aplomb, and Magnus called it a victory. For himself, that is—he deliberately offered you unacceptable terms, knowing you'd refuse.'

'Did he object to something specific about me, or was it a generalised loathing?'

'All of the above. But worst of all, he knew he'd never be able to control you.'

'Does he control you?' asked Harry.

Selwyn shrugged. 'He doesn't need to. I have no reason to defy the family, since we're in perfect accord on all the things that matter.'

'Politics, you mean?' Harry deliberately avoided saying 'blood purity.'

'Yes, amongst other things.'

'I was actually hoping to talk to him this afternoon. Do you think he'll be willing?'

'Of course he'll be willing—this is Pratt's. I don't think you fully realise what that means.'

'You're probably right, but I'm learning.' Harry turned to Higgs and said, 'Forgive me for ignoring you this whole time!'

'There's no need,' said Higgs. 'That was perfectly fascinating. Although I should be cross with you for removing Lydia Travers from the list of suitable brides.'

'Oh dear, were you courting her?'

'No, thank Merlin, but I was considering it. I'd previously counted myself out, since I'm not Sacred Twenty-Eight, but she refused Nigel Fawley so I thought I had a chance. But then she took up with you, and I had to go back to the drawing board. Not that I'm complaining ... I've started dating a luscious young witch who's more my type. So do me a favour and try not to ruin Vanessa Waite.'

'You have my word,' said Harry. 'But why aren't you married already? Aren't you several years older than I am?'

'Yes, I'm nearly twenty-two. But I was working abroad for the last few years—my family's neutral and they wanted me to stay clean during the war. The good news is that I was successful enough in business that I was offered Pratt's membership, and I'm in a good position for courting.'

'Higgs is a younger son,' said Selwyn. 'Although his brother hasn't yet been invited to join. He was in Hufflepuff, if you can imagine.'

'Come now, Selwyn,' said Higgs. 'We're supposed to look past our differences within these walls.'

'Yes, but there are limits,' scoffed Selwyn.

Higgs rolled his eyes. 'Selwyn has always been a colossal snob, in part because he's an eldest son. Potter, he probably only talks to you because you're the head of two houses.'

'There's no such thing as House Potter,' said Harry.

'There is if you want it,' said Selwyn. 'This is how houses start. Don't waste the opportunity.'

'Do you really want me to have two seats on the Wizengamot?'

'Potter raises a good point,' said Higgs. 'Speaking of which, is it true you're advocating for Draco Malfoy next week?'

'It is. What do you think of my chances?'

'You won't have my father's vote. He still hasn't forgiven Draco for taking my spot as house Seeker.'

'I always wondered what happened,' said Harry. 'All I know is that Draco was suddenly named Seeker for Slytherin, and that Lucius bought racing brooms for the entire team.'

'What else is there to know?' asked Higgs. 'Draco was in, and I was out. They claimed it was because you'd beaten me the previous year, but we all knew the real reason. I admit I took satisfaction when you consistently beat him as well.'

'He was a decent flyer,' said Selwyn. 'More than decent, really. But how was he to compete with the wizard who'd eventually lead the Chudley Cannons to win eight in a row?'

'Higgs,' said Harry, 'is your father really going to vote to keep Draco under house arrest because of what happened with the Quidditch team?'

'He also dislikes Lucius.'

'So do I,' said Harry. 'Intensely. But the longer Draco is trapped at home, the more likely he is to turn out like his father. This is really the best option.'

'I'll mention that to him. He was as amused as anyone by how you handled the lords, so he might be persuaded.'

'Do I need to speak to him directly?'

'Probably not, but I'll leave you a note at the front desk if I'm wrong.'

'Cheers. And Selwyn, what about your family? Is it your father or grandfather?'

'My grandfather. Selwyns are good at staying alive, remember? And yes, he'll vote with you, or with Malfoy, rather.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Harry. 'Let's hope it's this easy when I talk to Romulus Wynter.'

Selwyn chuckled. 'You know he's the ringleader, right?'

'I do. Will he at least be pleased I've ordered a hat?'

'No. But he'll be polite regardless, and he'll respect that you approached him. The worst thing you could do is not even bother courting him.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'No time like the present,' he said, rising from his chair. 'It was good seeing you again—and Higgs, I wish you luck with Miss Waite.'

'Cheers. I wish you luck with everyone but Miss Waite.'

Standing, Harry looked around the lounge in search of the two senior lords. 'Er, Selwyn ... what does Magnus Travers look like?' he asked.

'Like his brother, only haughtier,' replied Selwyn.

Harry spotted him and walked over. Am I really supposed to address him as Travers? he wondered. Surely that would be insolent. Travers was talking to a middle-aged wizard but waved him away when he saw Harry approaching. And before Harry even arrived, Travers snapped his fingers and said, 'Elf!'

An elf appeared and began introducing himself, but Travers interrupted him and said, 'Potter, I see your hand is empty. What will you have?'

Suspecting that Travers wanted him to order alcohol, he asked, 'What do you recommend?' Besides Draught of Living Death, he added mentally.

'I'm partial to a dry sherry,' replied Travers.

'That sounds good,' said Harry, and Travers instructed the elf accordingly.

'Have a seat, Potter. It's time we met. You know who I am, of course.'

'Yes. And I'm pleased we're meeting in such a friendly setting. I'd never heard of Pratt's until a week ago, and I hadn't imagined I'd be able to interact with my so-called adversaries this way.'

The house-elf returned with their drinks, and Travers and Harry both took a long sip. 'Pratt's is extraordinary,' said Travers. 'And I'm relieved you had the good sense to join. Although perhaps I shouldn't be surprised—you've proven more clever than I anticipated.'

'I'm almost offended by how often I've heard that recently. Obviously Hermione was the brains of the outfit, but my marks at Hogwarts weren't that bad, excepting Potions of course.'

'I was referring to the rules of the game. Clearly Dumbledore never taught you them, nor any of the other short-lived adults in your life.'

Harry knew he once would have been upset by Travers's callous words, but months of taunting had made him unflappable. 'No, they never did,' he said. 'But I have some unexpected new teachers ... Narcissa Malfoy, for example.'

'Yes, I spoke with her this afternoon. She said you're proving more tractable than she anticipated, but that you're nobody's puppet.'

'Did Narcissa win your support for next week?'

'She's always had my support. I know what it's like to have my name dragged through the mud by a relation, and it's happened to her twice—first by Sirius Black and then by Lucius. Narcissa is a survivor, and with any luck Draco will be as well. Although I'm astonished you're putting your neck on the line for him.'

'I'm taking precautions.'

'Yes, that's what Narcissa said. You've earned her respect.'

'That's even more surprising than the goblins,' said Harry. 'Can Dolores Umbridge be next?'

Travers sneered. 'What an odious being. I daresay my brother would have reconsidered his life choices if he'd known he'd be trapped with her. And this time he doesn't even have Dementors to distract him.'

'Do you visit him?' asked Harry.

'No, and I shan't. Not after what he did to me. And yes, I was surprised to learn about your role in his mysterious failure to seize his inheritance. Under different circumstances I might say I owed you a debt, but perhaps we should call it even.'

'That's more than generous. I heard that Lydia's father has forgiven her.'

Travers rolled his eyes. 'Yes, he's a fool for his daughters, but I suppose every father is. And thank Merlin you refused to marry her! Isobel insisted it was Lydia's only hope, and that no one would ever have her, but even a soiled dove can still fly. And having you in the family would have been an unending trial.'

'For both of us,' said Harry, sipping his wine. 'I need to talk to Romulus Wynter next. Do you have any advice?'

'Don't ask after his children. His son is a disappointment and his daughter ran off decades ago.'

'Does he have grandchildren?' asked Harry, knowing Wynter had never acknowledged Davina's children.

'No, and he's the last of his line. Which is why he's obsessed with his ancestors, whom you called thieves.'

'Weren't they?'

'It was a different era,' said Travers dismissively. 'As a Gryffindor, you should appreciate boldness.'

'I do,' replied Harry, thinking of the condom scheme. 'But I'll never agree that stealing from Muggles is acceptable.'

'After everything Muggles did to you?'

'That was three Muggles. Consider how I've been treated by wizards,' said Harry. 'It was wizards who killed my parents and godfather, and so many of my friends—not Muggles.'

'They would have done if they'd been capable. You can't argue that Muggles are less violent than wizards.'

'No, they aren't, because we're all humans, and humans are vile. And brilliant.'

'You're young,' said Travers. 'Talk to me again in a decade.'

'I hope we'll talk before then. But thank you for the advice.' He nodded as he would to a goblin and rose from his chair. Travers nodded in response, and Harry scanned the room for Wynter. One lord down, one to go, he thought, walking towards Davina's father.

'Potter,' said Wynter cordially. 'Welcome to Pratt's, and please sit down.'

That's already an improvement over Travers, thought Harry. 'Cheers,' he said. 'I've been very impressed by what I've seen so far.'

'In France, you mean.'

'No, here in the club. I would never have believed wizards from opposing sides could get on so well.'

'I don't imagine you would—not with what you've seen. But you came of age during an unusual era. Historically wizards have emphasised what we have in common with one another.'

'Why do you think that changed?' asked Harry, genuinely curious.

'We no longer have a common enemy. Dark wizards will tell you that Muggles are the enemy, and Light wizards will tell you Dark wizards are the enemy.'

'And what about neutral wizards?' asked Harry, recalling that Davina had described her family as Dark-leaning neutral.

'Neutral wizards such as myself will say that disunity is the problem. That's why we look for common ground, although it was much easier when we were still at war with the goblins.'

Harry was aghast. 'You can't be advocating a return to goblin warfare! I didn't learn much in History of Magic, but I know it was a bloodbath.'

'Relax, young man. I wasn't suggesting we wage war against goblins. I was merely providing an example of when wizards got on better.'

'Fair enough, I apologise. What would you propose now as a uniting element?'

'Wizarding culture. And before you shout at me again, I don't advocate abusing Muggles or rejecting Muggle-borns. I simply yearn for a time when wizarding traditions were held sacred.'

'I might object to the word "sacred," but otherwise I agree with you about the value of wizarding traditions.'

Wynter raised a fluffy eyebrow. 'Really? I'm astonished.'

'I can't imagine why,' said Harry. 'I play Quidditch, after all.'

'True, but that's just one aspect of wizarding culture.'

'Perhaps, but if you think about it, the essence of wizarding culture is magic, and I simply love magic. Perhaps the problem is that people who've spent their entire lives in magical society take it for granted.' Nodding to himself, Harry said, 'I'm starting to wonder if pure-bloods shouldn't be required to spend a day in a Muggle household just to appreciate how different day-to-day life is and, by extension, how deeply entrenched any practising witch or wizard is in wizarding culture.'

'Interesting. Can you provide an example?'

'Yes ... I remember the first time I saw my friend Ron Weasley's house. His family is the biggest lot of blood traitors you'll ever meet, but their house is full to bursting with magic. I'd never seen anything like it, and I thought it was brilliant. Or my teammate Ryan's parents' house. His dad is a Muggle, and Ryan is fluent in Muggle culture, but their house is the most clever blend of Muggle and magical you could imagine, and they don't violate secrecy at all.'

Wynter frowned when Harry mentioned Ryan's father. 'Fraternising with Muggles is all well and good until children come along. Obviously your friend turned out all right, but what about his siblings?'

Harry realised his error too late, and he attempted to change course. 'That's a different question—I was talking about how we live as wizards, and that it's entirely different to how Muggles live.'

'But unless we as wizards stay pure of Muggle culture, our youth will be tempted away, and then magic is lost.'

Bugger, I fucked this up completely, thought Harry. 'I think we've waded into dangerous waters. Would you mind if I change the topic?'

Wynter relaxed slightly. 'I would welcome that.'

'Next Wednesday, I plan to attend the Wizengamot session to advocate for Draco Malfoy's early release from house arrest.'

'So I hear. I hope you've been informed about the risk you're taking.'

'I have been, and I'm taking appropriate precautions.'

'You'll need to invoke lordly privilege,' said Wynter.

'Yes, I know. May I count on your support?'

'Naturally. If you and the Malfoys agree, who am I to argue?'

'Thank you. Is there anyone else you recommend I speak to in advance?'

Wynter thought for a moment. 'No. As long as you don't misbehave between now and then, you shouldn't have trouble getting two-thirds of the vote.'

Does announcing I'm a Light wizard count as misbehaviour? Harry wondered. 'I'll do my best,' he said, rising from his chair. 'And thank you again.'

Wynter nodded, and Harry did his best not to run out of the lounge. When he passed the doorway leading to the Boudoir, a wizard who was exiting held the door open for him, but Harry just smiled and walked by. No, I'm a shameless libertine who goes on dates before having sex.

After returning home, Harry removed the large sign opposite the fireplace that said, 'There are wizarding schools in Britain other than Hogwarts,' and then he practised the Light magic exercises Davina had taught him. Afterwards he revisited his memories of Alex, whom he was having trouble picturing. She was unusual-looking, he recalled, and he looked forward to their evening alone.

Before she arrived, Kreacher appeared before him with a loud crack. 'Master has received a letter,' he announced.

Harry took the letter and saw that it was from Blaise Zabini. He read:

Dear Harry,

Sorry about the slow reply, but you've caught me on holiday. I've been in Rome since Friday and won't be back until this coming weekend. But I'd love to talk to you about the business, which I'm certain you'll find intriguing. Owl me on Sunday with some dates and times, and I'll be glad to accommodate your schedule.

Best regards,

Blaise

Harry sighed. So that's Ginny's mysterious companion in Rome, and the source of her 'love bite.' Had they been dating in secret for a while, or had their romance only begun that weekend?

I can't possibly invest in his company, he thought bitterly. Harry knew it would drive him mad sitting across from Blaise, picturing him and Ginny together. He recalled Blaise's easy manner at the Boudoir, and how he'd strode upstairs with two filles de joie as confidently as Harry might have done.

When will I ever get over Ginny? he wondered. Harry knew he'd grown just as attached to Helena in the short time they were together, but losing Ginny was harder somehow, perhaps because he'd believed the entire time that they'd eventually marry. Yes, that's it, he realised. When Ginny left me, I lost an entire future.

And now Blaise had her. Harry's throat was tight, and his hands clenched in frustration. Why didn't she want me? he thought despairingly. I was her first love, but then she didn't want me any longer. Did we really grow apart, or did she discover I wasn't what she wanted after all?

He recalled his conversation with George months earlier: She wanted the Boy Who Lived, but instead she got the Man Who Survived. Ginny had been endlessly patient with his nightmares, and she'd soothed his frazzled nerves during Auror training, when he'd been so unhappy. If only I'd joined the Cannons before we broke up, he thought. She'd have seen how much happier I am, and she'd still want me.

And yet it was hard even to imagine that version of himself. He'd become accustomed to his notoriety, and to the thrill of encountering a new witch and making her his. If Ginny had never dumped me, I'd still be famous for the wrong reason, and Rita Skeeter would think I was boring.

Why couldn't he have both? He longed for some impossible world in which he got to marry Ginny but still went with Helena to a Muggle nightclub and had a threesome a week later. And where he spent a mad day and night with Penelope, who believed he was a faerie, and rode on a flying carpet with Sophie and allowed her to paint him with Muggle makeup before going out. And Lydia, he thought, unable to pinpoint an iconic moment. If only I could have them all.

But Ginny had dumped him, and apparently she preferred Blaise. But this isn't so bad, he thought. Maybe Helena will still be available when I turn twenty-one. Furthermore, Alex was about to arrive, and even though he couldn't picture her he knew he'd found her attractive.

She appeared in the reception hall at the appointed hour. Oh right, he thought, and Ginny vanished from his mind. 'Welcome,' he said. 'I'm glad you could come over.'

'It's my pleasure,' said Alex. 'I was hoping to get to know you better.'

Harry looked at her through lowered eyelids and said, 'I'd forgotten how beautiful you are. But now I remember why I couldn't take my eyes off you when we met. And you're clearly brilliant as well.'

'And you're still shameless. But I'll take the compliment.'

He had a dim recollection they were supposed to do something, but he couldn't recall what it was. 'Are you hungry?' he blurted. 'I wasn't sure what you'd like to eat, so I haven't yet asked my house-elf to prepare anything.'

'What does he make?' she asked, and he listed the options. Alex made a selection, and after ordering it wordlessly he led her to the drawing room. 'I see you followed Stephen's advice.'

'I'm sorry?' he said, lost.

'Stephen, the interior decorator. From when we met.'

'Yes, of course!' Why am I in such a fog? he wondered. Oh right, I'm experiencing accidental Light magic and I've been celibate for nearly a week. 'I'm very pleased with his recommendations, and the changes you made. I was honestly happy with the house as it was, but my house-elf went overboard with the wallpaper and you know the rest. Fortunately, the house is still what my former girlfriend called dreary, so clearly we preserved the character of it.'

'Former girlfriend?'

'Yes, we're not seeing each other any longer. But I thought that would be obvious, since I invited you here.'

'Not necessarily,' said Alex. 'I have a fiancé.'

'I beg your pardon! I'm sorry—I thought this was a date. Obviously you're welcome to stay to dinner,' he stammered.

Alex laughed and said, 'Don't look so frightened! He's in America, and we're seeing other people until we're together again.' Harry relaxed, and she added, 'I was certainly counting on this being a date.'

Relieved, he said, 'Clearly I don't know much about you. But I'd love to learn more.'

'All right. My parents are English, and I was born here, but they moved to America when I was a baby because of the war. They could have moved back after Voldemort died the first time, but they'd made friends there and found jobs they liked, so they stayed put. I spent the holidays with my grandparents here in England, but during the last war they moved to America as well.'

'Then what brings you back?'

'My studies. My Transfiguration tutor, Nancy, is American, but she enjoys living abroad from time to time. Previously she's lived in Spain, Australia, and Singapore. She decided this was a good time to come to England, since the politics are less abominable than usual, and I've accompanied her.'

'But what about your fiancé? Wasn't it hard to leave him behind?'

'It was, but we decided it was an opportunity to see other people before entering a marriage bond. We'll only be apart for six months, and then we're getting married early next summer.'

'Isn't that strange, preparing to marry someone but also dating other people?' he asked, even though he'd longed for something similar with Ginny only minutes earlier.

'It mightn't work for everyone, but so far it's been all right. The only problem is that in Britain there's a tendency to marry young, so it's hard to date anyone without his mum asking a lot of questions. But that's not a problem with you.'

'Because I don't have a mum?'

She looked mortified. 'I'm sorry! What I meant to say is that you're not planning to marry right away, so there's no pressure.'

He smiled to relieve her embarrassment. 'Have you encountered a lot of impatient mums?'

'I was speaking figuratively. I've only gone on a few dates, but the wizards lost interest when they learned I had a fiancé.'

'And they weren't willing to run around with you anyway? I'm ashamed of my countrymen right now.'

'Clearly you have more work to do, when it comes to influencing your peers.'

'No, I get into enough trouble already. But I'd be happy to introduce you to some Quidditch players who are in no rush to marry.'

'Yes, I heard about your parties,' she said. 'But I'm not looking for a one-night stand either. More of a pocket romance.'

'Do you mean a fling?'

'I suppose you could call it that. A wee love affair one remembers fondly, years later.'

'I don't know about the "years later" part, but I've had several of those. And yes, they're lovely.' His face clouded and he said, 'Unless they end poorly, as it did with Lydia. It was never meant to be serious, but I ended up hurting her. My bad reputation isn't entirely unearned.'

'May I ask what happened?'

Harry sighed. 'I cheated on her. We'd already agreed to see other people, but not right away. I turned up at her flat more than an hour late, and there was no hiding where I'd been.'

She mock-glared at him. 'I'd have been cross as well if I'd been kept waiting an hour. But I have no illusion I'd be the only one you're seeing, so as long as you're punctual, I don't anticipate a problem.'

He leaned towards her again. 'How do you feel about publicity? Would you be willing to be seen with me in public?'

'I would be. But aren't we getting ahead of ourselves? We haven't even kissed yet.'

'You're right. That was very irresponsible of me,' said Harry, and their lips met. A series of kisses turned into a snog, and a short while later they were somewhat less clothed and horizontal on the sofa.

Master! came the voice in Harry's mind.

Confused, Harry ignored the intruding thought, and he concentrated on the task at hand.

Master! repeated the voice. Kreacher is terribly sorry to interrupt Master!

'Kreacher?' moaned Harry aloud.

'My name's Alex,' she gasped. 'But don't stop.'

Harry stopped and focussed his attention. Kreacher, what do you want? he thought irritably.

Dinner is ready! Where would Master like dinner served?

'Er, it's my house-elf,' said Harry, sitting up. 'Where would you like dinner? In the dining room, or maybe in here?'

'In here. We can have a picnic.'

Harry smiled. 'That would be a first. Hang on.' He closed his eyes and thought, Kreacher, I'd like dinner served in the drawing room. But give us a minute.

'Dinner will be right up,' said Harry. 'Should we just eat it from the coffee table?'

'I suggested a picnic,' she said archly. Alex buttoned her shirt while Harry did the same, and she pulled out her wand and began to conjure. First came a picnic blanket, and then cushions to sit on. 'Would you like grass?' she asked.

'I'd love it,' said Harry, amazed. 'But not until Kreacher delivers the food, because I can't even predict how he'd react.'

They sat innocently on the sofa until Kreacher arrived with the laden tea trolley, which included a vase of flowers, but as soon as he left she transfigured the room into a miniature park. The floor became grass, and each of the flowers from the vase became the basis for a large flower bed. She and Harry charmed the ceiling much brighter, and they laid their meal on the blanket.

'This is brilliant!' he said, marvelling at her handiwork. 'How long will it last?'

'A few hours at most. I wish I knew how to conjure sunlight, but that's very arcane magic.'

Harry recalled how Lydia had used family magic to conjure bright sunlight through the window, but he saw no point in mentioning it. They began eating, and he asked her more questions. 'Why don't you have an American accent?'

'Because I've already been in the UK for nearly a month. My normal accent is what's sometimes described as "Mid-Atlantic," because it's halfway between the two. Which means I sound British to Americans, but American to Britons, unless I've been here for several weeks.'

'And where do you live in America?'

'Chicago.'

Harry sat up excitedly. 'I once tried to convince a Muggle I lived in Chicago, and I failed completely!'

'I can see why,' replied Alex. 'You don't sound or even look American.'

'Obviously I don't sound American—I told her my parents had moved there several years prior—but why don't I look American? Should I have worn a baseball cap or something?'

'That might have helped, but I was referring to your facial expression. It's a subtle thing, but I've found I can identify Americans in Britain even if their clothes are unremarkable and they don't say anything. Americans have a very open facial expression, particularly around the eyes. I think it's connected to their willingness to share intimate secrets with strangers.'

'I suppose I do that on the radio most weeks,' said Harry. 'But otherwise I've been accused of looking very aloof.'

'That's not how you were when I met you. Quite the opposite, in fact.'

'Because we were in my house and not in public. And besides, I was attracted to you. I still am, in fact.'.

'Thank you, I'm very flattered. I'm not everyone's type, after all.'

'You're my type. Although that's arguably a broad category.'

'It is!' she said, laughing. 'You really have an appalling reputation, even in America.'

'I have a reputation in America?'

'Of course you do. American magicals aren't quite as obsessed with England as No-Majes are, since they don't care about the royal family. But they followed the British wizarding wars and were concerned Voldemort might eventually come to America. So naturally they're fascinated with you, same as here.'

Harry frowned. 'If they were so worried about Voldemort, why didn't anyone come to help?'

'American magicals are similar to their No-Maj counterparts and seldom bother interfering abroad unless they've something to gain from it. And besides, we have our own Dark wizards to contend with. But during the war they saw you as a folk hero, and nearly everyone was rooting for you.'

'That's touching, but seriously, we could have used some help,' said Harry irritably, but then he corrected himself. 'I'm sorry, it's a bad habit. I'm slowly learning to accept how things occurred, but it's occasionally frustrating to learn how many well-wishers we had when we felt so desperately alone.'

'Harry, I'm sorry. And I suppose I'm part of the problem, or my family is. The reason my parents left was because my aunt was killed in an attack on Diagon Alley. My mum had planned to accompany her that afternoon, with me as well, only I had an earache and she decided not to go. And frankly, we never even considered returning to England during the latest war—we were more concerned with getting my grandparents out.'

Harry's expression softened. 'I'm glad you survived, and your parents and grandparents as well. Everything turned out as it was meant to.'

'Really? Are you that fatalistic?'

'If you're asking if I think everything is predestined, no, not at all. But I've learnt to stop brooding quite so much over the past.' He smiled and added, 'I much prefer the present.'

'I'm certain you do,' she said, and they continued eating.

Harry enjoyed their picnic tremendously, and not wanting to feel constrained he asked, 'Are you familiar with Light magic?'

'Do you mean like the Patronus Charm?'

'Yes, but there's far more to Light magic than that.'

'Then no, I'm not. Why do you ask?'

He explained the basics to her and confessed he'd been glowing recently and was preparing to go public. 'There's a rumour that it's sexually transmissible, but I think it's emotionally transmissible instead. So I should warn you, at the very least.'

'What happens if I "catch" it?' she asked, smirking.

'As far as I know, only good things. But it might impair your ability to practice Dark magic, if you're into that.'

'I'm not. But do you suppose there's such a thing as Light Transfiguration?'

'I have no idea—I'd have to ask Davina.'

'Yes, please do. And I'll ask Nancy, although she's never mentioned it. Would you mind showing me?'

'I'd love to,' said Harry, and within seconds he began to glow.

'You've conjured sunlight! Can you make it brighter?'

'Yes, but I could use some help.' He leaned towards her and they kissed, and he felt Light magic flow through him more strongly.

'Oh, this is lovely! Can you cast your Patronus like this?'

'I've never tried ... let's see.' Harry raised his wand, but instead of selecting a happy memory, he ran his other hand over the soft grass and drew upon the present moment. 'Expecto Patronum!'

Prongs burst from Harry's wand and turned to face him. Without thinking, Harry stood and reached for the glowing stag, and although he couldn't feel him, he sensed the resonance between the stag's bright aura and his own.

'You're getting brighter!' exclaimed Alex, who was on her feet as well.

'It's the same,' said Harry, surprised. 'Prongs's glow and my own ... it's the same substance. Can you feel it?'

Alex placed her hand over Harry's, where he was touching the stag. 'No, I only feel you. But you're warm and incredibly alive.' She began kissing him again, and they withdrew their hands from Prongs and touched only each other.

On a whim, Harry pulled away from her and said, 'Prongs, let's go say hi to Padfoot.' The glowing stag stepped gracefully from the room, and Harry and Alex descended the stairs behind him. They watched him poke his muzzle into the painting, and Padfoot leapt to his feet and began barking and wagging his tail.

'He almost never barks,' said Harry, and they both gasped when Prongs leapt into the painting. Padfoot and Prongs immediately began playing, as Harry knew his father and Sirius had done in real life in their Animagus forms. 'They were best friends,' he said tearfully. 'I can't believe I never thought to reunite them.'

They watched in awe as the two animals played together. 'Normally a stag and a dog would never interact like that,' said Alex. 'But they're wrestling like puppies.'

'I reckon my father and godfather were overgrown kids together. Although this isn't really them at all. Padfoot isn't sentient, and Prongs is more symbolic of my father than anything.'

'It's still lovely,' she said, and he agreed. After watching in silence a little longer, they returned to their picnic in drawing room. Harry's glow gradually dimmed, and he asked her about America.

'Are you just gathering information for the next time you hit on Muggles?' she said suspiciously.

'No, I'm genuinely curious. All I know about America is from films and television.'

She told him about Chicago's wizarding district, which was called the Zero Block and was at the very centre of the downtown commercial area. 'To understand the Zero Block, you need to understand how the Chicago streets are numbered,' she began. 'The entire city is built along a numbered grid, and all street addresses adhere to the numbering system, which extends in four directions from the corner of State and Madison Streets. A mile equals eight hundred within the numbering system, so if you walk one mile north from the centre, you'll be at 800 North. And if you walk half a mile west, you'll be at 800 North and 400 West. And so forth, in all directions, although there's not very much to the east because of the lake.'

'And it's all perfectly consistent?' asked Harry.

'Not entirely, because there's a river, and also some diagonal streets, but for the most part it is.'

'Interesting. But what does this have to do with the Zero Block?' he asked. 'Wait, hang on! Is the Zero Block right in the middle, at the corner of those two streets you mentioned?'

'Exactly—it's at State and Madison. You enter by grasping any one of the four lampposts at that intersection and walking counter-clockwise. Anti-clockwise, that is.'

'Do you see a storefront, like the Leaky Cauldron?'

'No, it's an entire city block, only it looks much older than the surrounding district. Much older by American standards, that is, which is a hundred and fifty years at most.' Harry looked incredulous, and she said, 'There's a reason they call it the New World.'

'Of course, you're right. Please go on.'

'Chicago was devastated by a fire in 1871, but the Zero Block survived. That was before the numbering system was established, and I think the magical district was just called "The District" or something equally unimaginative. So when the No-Maj government imposed the numbering system in the early 1900s, wizards influenced them to make State and Madison the centre, because that would be cool.'

'It is,' said Harry. 'Very cool. But how do addresses work within the Zero Block?'

'They're based on the four sides of the block, and they don't have directional prefixes. So the wandmaker is at 20 East, and the pigeon shop is at 31 South.'

'Pigeon shop?'

'Yes. Owls would be far too conspicuous in the city, and American wizards are more careful about secrecy than the British are. But pigeons blend in perfectly.'

'Are there any skyscrapers in the Zero Block?'

'There's the Colossus, which is twenty-five storeys high, but nobody considers that a skyscraper anymore.'

'Twenty-five storeys isn't bad.'

'The Sears Tower is more than a hundred storeys, and the Hancock Center is nearly as tall.'

'A hundred storeys!' he exclaimed. 'Without magic?'

'No, just glass, steel, and concrete.'

'Blimey! I don't think I'd be willing go up without a broomstick handy. Do you live in a building like that?'

'No, I live in a four-storey building in a residential neighbourhood, several miles from the Zero Block. It's not very big from the outside, but all the tenants are magical, so we have plenty of space.'

'Is there a Floo network, or some other kind of public transport?'

'No, because America is obsessed with cars. We have Apparition, of course, and most houses and apartments have a dedicated Apparition point. But otherwise people use magically-enhanced cars, which travel quickly and can bypass traffic.'

'Like the Knight Bus?' said Harry dubiously.

'Yes, but less nauseating.'

Harry told Alex what he'd said when he'd claimed to live in Chicago. 'I don't think I made any grave factual errors, but I'm not a very convincing liar, which I suppose is fortunate.'

'I would give anything to watch a Pensieve memory of you pretending you knew who Michael Jordan was. He's famous even among magicals in America.'

'Do they follow basketball?'

'No, but there were repeated concerns that Michael Jordan was either a covert wizard or that he was receiving magical assistance, because he appeared to be flying.'

'While playing basketball?'

'Yes. There was an uproar among magicals, because people feared he was a threat to secrecy. And even though repeated investigations proved he wasn't using magic, people still didn't trust the findings. Eventually the goblins were called in to settle the matter.'

'And?'

'It wasn't magic. He's just really talented.'

Eventually they stopped talking and lay down together on the grass, which was free from rocks, twigs, and insects. They darkened the ceiling and took turns charming constellations onto it. 'I think you've put Orion too close to Perseus,' he said. 'There's no room for Taurus.'

'But if I put Orion any lower, he'll be too close to Canus Major.'

'That's all right. Sirius's middle name was Orion, so his constellations can be mashed together a bit.'

They shared a pillow, and as much as Harry desired her, he was enjoying the anticipation before the next step. 'What's your fiancé's name?' he asked.

'Rocky.'

'You're joking, right?'

'No. His real name is Richard, but everyone calls him Rocky.'

'Is he a boxer?'

'No, and the nickname's ironic, because he's so bookish. But when he started school, there were three boys in his grade called Ricky, so someone proposed calling him Rocky, and it stuck.'

'How do you keep in touch with him? Can pigeons fly that far?'

'They can, but portkey post is faster.'

'What's that?'

'It's a bit like air mail, but instead of sending letters on an airplane they're sent by transatlantic portkey, and then the rest of the way by pigeon. It costs more, but letters take less than a day to arrive. And we also use the telephone.'

'Muggle telephone?'

'Yes. Overseas calls are much cheaper than they used to be. So we talk several times a week.'

'Did you tell him about me?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'What did he say?'

'That you have good taste.'

'And he doesn't mind?'

'He's not overjoyed, and he doesn't want the details, but at least he's not worried you'll try to steal me away. In fact, he'd probably prefer if you and I don't date exclusively.'

Harry recalled what he'd wished for earlier, regarding Ginny. 'So you feel safe about your future together, but in the meantime you get to have adventures?'

'That's the idea. As long as neither of us falls in love with someone else.'

He turned to face her. 'But what about the present moment? Can you experience love temporarily? I don't know if it's the Light magic, but I fall in love at the drop of a hat—as long as I'm with her, anyway.'

'And then you forget about her when you're apart, and even cheat on her?'

'That particular scenario won't happen again, and I never drink enough to forget about someone like that. But I can easily imagine falling in love with you by tomorrow morning, and then feeling the same way about someone else in a few days. And then back again, the next time I see you.'

She looked at him, and for a moment she was silent. 'That sounds like a perfect pocket romance,' she said, and they embraced on the soft grass.