Loose Cannon

by manatee-vs-walrus

Fourteen months after the Battle of Hogwarts, an overheard, off-the-cuff comment turns Harry's life upside-down. Goodbye Auror training, hello Chudley Cannons! And witches ... lots of witches (but no harem). Heaps of dialogue and world-building, and OCs galore. Warning: Many tropes were harmed in the writing of this fic, and Cursed Child never happened. NO MORTAL PERIL.

92. Chapter 92

Author's note:

Surprise—bonus chapter! I figured everyone could use a distraction right now, especially us poor sods in America.

Please consider recommending Loose Cannon to anyone who needs a nice long binge-read right now. And if you haven't clicked 'Favorite,' please consider doing so, since that will help other people find my fic. Thanks!

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Ron's jaw dropped when he saw the Muggle underwear adverts Harry showed him on Saturday morning. 'Are you sure you can't get out of the contract?' he stammered.

'I don't want to get out of the contract. The projected earnings are unbelievable, and it'll only require a few days' work.'

'But these photographs! Please tell me you're not planning to grab yourself!'

'Good lord, no! What do you take me for?'

Ron was still gaping at the adverts. 'I don't even know what I take you for anymore. Didn't you turn down Silver Arrow because they wanted to put you in their store displays?'

'I did,' said Harry. 'But that was back when I still had privacy, or something like it.'

'True—that was before Sorceress. And at least you waited for the highest bidder.' After a pause, Ron asked, 'Can I see the numbers? Janet didn't know the details.'

'That's because I didn't tell anyone from the team. I've only told the goblins.'

'Wrong, you told Malfoy.'

'Bugger, you're right!' said Harry. 'But are you sure you want to know?'

'Are you scared I'm going to explode with jealousy and pour a bottle of Firewhisky down my throat?' asked Ron.

'Er, yeah.'

Ron paused. 'That's a good question, and I honestly don't know. Just how staggering are these numbers?'

'Let's just say the Malfoys were impressed.'

'I should probably get a bottle of whisky, just in case,' said Ron, heading for the stairs.

'All the whisky's in the dining room, in the cupboard where the silver used to be,' Harry called after him.

When Ron returned, bottle in hand, he asked, 'Shouldn't you replace the silver one of these days? Get the family crest scratched onto it or something?'

'No, I love that Mundungus stole all the silver. I'll never replace it, and hopefully my descendants won't either.'

Ron looked at the folder Harry had fetched and was still holding. 'Hand it over, Snitchbottom.'

'Oi! You don't get to call me that!'

'It's either that or Harry Toffer.'

'Fine,' grumbled Harry, handing him the folder. 'The first page is Japan, and the second page is North America.' He explained the three sets of projections and then braced himself.

'Not bad,' said Ron, looking at the first page. 'Is this just the States, or Canada too?'

'No,' replied Harry, indicating where Ron's thumb was covering the title. 'That's Japan. North America's the next page.'

Ron's eyes bulged when he turned the page. 'Holy thestral bollocks! And that's for one year?'

Harry nodded soberly. 'The next page shows the Continent, broken down by country.'

'Blimey! I'd drop my trousers for one tenth of what they're offering you. But what about next year? Will they keep running the adverts?'

'We'll revisit the contract after a year, but the idea is to keep going, since I'll be a "brand ambassador" as well as a model.'

'Do you reckon you can string that out?' asked Ron. 'Like, after you retire from Quidditch and start looking like Ludo Bagman around the middle, could they just take pictures with your clothes on?'

'I hope I never look like Ludo Bagman! But in answer to your question, I have no idea.'

Ron glanced at the bottle of Firewhisky. 'I can't believe this, but I don't need a drink. I think I'm just happy for you. Mind you, I'll take the mickey louder than anyone when it comes out, but congratulations.'

'Thanks,' said Harry, relieved. 'If it were just for me, I wouldn't do it, but now that I'm on the hook for two families it's hard to pass up.'

Looking at the Muggle adverts again, Ron asked, 'Do they know you're not that big?'

'Oi!' cried Harry indignantly.

'Your muscles!' said Ron, laughing. 'I meant your muscles! You're more wiry than, er, beefy.'

Harry looked down at his clothed torso and frowned. 'I assume they know.' Shrugging, he added, 'Too late now.'

'I'm sure it's fine,' said Ron. 'Big muscles are more of a Muggle thing.'

'You sound like Malfoy.'

'Right, our new business partner! George told me about the meeting. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks for bringing him in. Percy would have got us all thrown into Azkaban.'

'I know,' said Harry. 'In hindsight, we should have realised that Weasleys are magically blocked from successfully bribing anyone.'

'That would explain a lot. I couldn't even place a dodgy bet yesterday.'

'What happened?'

'We were doing Concealment and Disguise training, and I spent ages making myself completely unrecognisable. But then we broke for lunch, and I didn't fancy re-disguising myself afterwards, so Harper and I stayed incognito and went to the Surly Bowtruckle, just for laughs. Which meant none of the bookmakers there recognised me.'

'Did you try betting on my name change?' asked Harry.

'Too right I did, and the odds were good, even though Potter-Black with a hyphen is the top contender. But everyone expects you to announce it on the radio, so the Prophet odds are much longer.'

'How did they catch you?'

'First, about a dozen Sneakoscopes sounded when I approached, which wouldn't have been a dealbreaker on its own because everyone there is up to something. But then I tried filling out a fake name, and the parchment was charmed against it, which meant the ink shot right back in my face. And then the hair-colour charm chose that second to expire, so everyone knew I had to be a Weasley.'

'Sweet Merlin! Did anyone try cursing you?'

'No, they all just laughed. But now everyone knows you're going to announce it in the Prophet, and the only remaining mystery is what day it'll be, because I hadn't filled that bit out yet.'

The conversation drifted to Alex and Rocky, who would be attending the match. 'Is it wrong that I want to fly like a maniac this afternoon, just to prove I'm more of a man than he is?'

'As long as you catch the Snitch, fly however you like. But will he even appreciate it? I thought Americans didn't like Quidditch.'

'Surely they know what decent flying looks like!'

'I guess, but I really don't know anything about America.'

'Oh right, you weren't exposed to thousands of hours of television like I was. Not that it matters, though, since Alex says Rocky isn't a typical American, whatever that means.'

'Will you be all right during the match, knowing he's in the stands?'

'I'll be fine—I'm sure I've handled worse by now. Really, it's dinner I'm worried about.'

'You're going out to dinner with them?' exclaimed Ron. 'Are you mental?'

'Possibly. I can't remember why I agreed to it. But at least I'll have good company—my newfound cousin Lisa will be there too.'

'Is she one of the Blacks? What's she like?'

'She's clever, and a lot of fun. Tonks would have loved her.'

'Is she pretty?'

'She is, but what's your point?'

'Do you fancy her?'

'She's my cousin!' protested Harry.

'How close?'

'We're fourth cousins.'

'That's nothing,' scoffed Ron. 'She's fair game as far as wizards are concerned.'

'No thanks! And trust me, she feels the same way.'

'No offence, mate, but your Muggle side is showing. Third cousins and up are fine. Even second cousins are all right, as long as you don't look alike.'

'Sirius's parents were second cousins,' noted Harry.

'Yeah, and they probably looked alike. That's the test. Do you and Lisa Black look alike?'

'Except for having black hair, no. But trust me, she's not interested.'

'Turn on the charm,' said Ron. 'Have a drink or two, see what happens.'

'I'm going to tell her you suggested this.'

'Tell her in bed. It's the fastest way to get over Alex.'

'It's not going to happen!' insisted Harry. 'And besides, I'd rather have her as a friend. Other than Hermione and my teammates, I have almost no female friends.'

'That's because you shag all the women you meet.'

'Which is what you're advising! Can you at least be consistent?'

'You didn't shag Luna, did you?'

'No! For Merlin's sake, give me some credit!'

'What's wrong with Luna?' asked Ron. 'I know she's weird, but she's pretty, and she filled out well. More than Hermione, certainly.'

'I can't believe I'm hearing this. Should we talk about Ginny next?'

'What? No!' cried Ron.

'That's what your talk of Luna sounds like to me,' said Harry. 'Yes, I've noticed she's pretty, but there's no way I'd toy with her like that.'

'She snogged a centaur. And I bet they did other stuff too.'

'They were in love! And why are you trying to get me into bed with Luna, or my cousin for that matter?'

Ron leaned back and sighed. 'It's a spectator sport, same as Quidditch.'

'Do you mean you're living vicariously through me?' asked Harry.

'Yeah, maybe.'

'Why? Aren't you and Janet happy?'

'That's just it,' said Ron. 'We are happy. I'm starting to really like her.'

'And why is that bad?'

'Because it was supposed to be meaningless. We shagged that first night, right after you and Helena left the bar. I thought we'd last maybe a few weeks, tops, but it's been more than two months, and things are just getting better.'

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he just stared at Ron dumbly.

'I have an Order of Merlin, First Class!' continued Ron. 'And I had every intention of putting it to use.'

'You did put it to use. That's how you got Janet into bed so fast.'

'Maybe, but she also has a thing for tall gingers.'

Harry was quiet for a moment. 'You realise I'm jealous, right?'

'Because you fancy Janet?'

'No, because you've found someone you like, and who fancies you back. I keep getting dumped.'

'You'll find someone eventually,' said Ron. 'And this way you get to experiment more. How many women are you up to anyway?'

'Er, I've lost count. A dozen maybe? Hang on, let me think.'

Ron interrupted him. 'The mere fact that you're not sure says it all. Janet's only my third.'

'Three is fine. Three is great, in fact. Twelve is pathological, particularly since all but one have been in the last few months.'

'It's not pathological,' said Ron. 'Excessive, perhaps, but not pathological. And several were in pairs, right?'

'Yeah, but I'm not even two months into my vow. Just imagine how many I'll be up to by the time I'm twenty-one.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'Triple figures, surely!'

'No, I refuse,' said Harry. 'Something has to change.'

'You could try charms for the single wizard.'

Harry glared at him. 'No, I need to figure out how not to lose my mind if I go a week without sex.'

'That seems unfair,' said Ron. 'Admittedly, I routinely went that long when Hermione and I were together. Longer, in fact. But why should you punish yourself just because the right witch hasn't turned up yet?'

'Maybe I need to learn patience,' mused Harry. 'I wonder if that's the problem.'

'The problem is you just got dumped again and you're grasping at straws. For Merlin's sake, stop worrying so much!'

'You're right,' said Harry, picking up his quill to sign more photographs.

Later that morning at the training grounds, Owen asked, 'How are you feeling?'

'Er, why do you ask?'

'The weather in Kenmare is brutal. Cold, rainy, and a strong west wind.'

'Brilliant. Just brilliant,' said Harry. 'Remind me why I do this?'

'Because you're desperate for adulation and outside approval?' suggested Gemma.

Harry deliberately started to glow. 'Oh, yes!' he moaned ecstatically, running his hands down his torso. 'Outside approval! Say it again, only faster.'

Gemma burst out laughing. 'Did you just summon Light magic for comic effect? Fantastic!'

'Is that adulation?' continued Harry. 'More please!'

'Now would probably be a good time to mention we're travelling by portkey,' said Owen.

'Yes, I know,' said Harry, his glow fading. 'Bloody Ireland. I should probably go there early so I have time to recover.'

Harry was indeed in a foul mood after travelling by portkey, and Light magic couldn't improve it. But Tuttle was unconcerned. 'Use it,' she said. 'Wear Kiely out.'

'He's more used to this weather than I am,' argued Harry.

'True, but has he fucked six times in one night?' retorted Tuttle. 'You can outlast him.'

Harry squared his shoulders and thought, That'll show Rocky. 'All right,' he said determinedly. 'Any other advice?'

'Near-foul like crazy. Ugly weather calls for ugly Quidditch.'

A predatory smile crossed Harry's lips. 'That sounds perfect.'

After changing into his team robes, Harry prowled the waiting area like a caged animal. 'You've got that look,' said Janet. Harry studied her through narrowed eyes and she added, 'Not your sex look. Your "I rid the world of Voldemort" look.'

That's because I did. 'Are you afraid I'll Plock you?' he asked.

'I'll be disappointed if you don't Plock me!' she replied. 'Play ugly!'

When it was time to fly out, the weather was truly frightful. Rain blew into the corridor where Harry was waiting, and he knew his Impervius Charm wouldn't repel it for long. But he felt an inner heat that would surely counteract the outer chill.

'Good luck,' said Owen. 'And don't kill yourself out there—it really is only a game.'

Harry's name was called last, and he could barely see the banners in the driving rain. But the stands were packed, and he was determined to give the fans a show. I will catch the Snitch, came the thought, and he knew it was truth rather than mere intention.

The balls were released, and Harry started circling. Can I feint yet? he thought impatiently, but Kiely wouldn't fall for it so early. So he let the other Seeker approach him.

'Harry Potter!' declared Kiely. 'We meet at last!'

'Yes, I've never seen you at Seeker's night out. But weren't you at my party?'

'I was, but I didn't fancy queuing up just to meet you, and by the time the crowd cleared I'd long since found a guest room.'

'How far down the corridor was it?'

'Not far enough, apparently, since it was fairly normal. Although we caught a glimpse of the most gorgeous portrait I've ever seen, until she screamed and threw on a veil.'

'You saw Annabel Black?!'

'I did. Have you seen her?'

'No, and I'm reluctant even to try, for fear of falling madly in love.'

'She's a stunner all right. Put me off my partner for a moment, to be honest. But I got over it ... tied your record even.'

'My record?' asked Harry nervously.

'Six times. Bloody exhausting—I'll never do that again.'

So much for my stamina advantage, thought Harry. 'But why haven't you been to Seekers' night out.'

'I don't fancy portkeys,' said Kiely. 'And the English are incapable of pulling a decent pint. In fact, you should visit an Irish pub this afternoon before going home.'

'Yes, I'm sure I'll be popular at the Kenmare Arms.'

'It's called Dave's,' said Kiely. 'And you'll be a hero for not catching the Snitch this afternoon.'

'I hate to break it to you, but I have a strong feeling I will catch the Snitch.'

'Not in this weather. You're from the south, right?'

'I am, but I went to Hogwarts. We played in weather like this all the time.'

'Three years ago,' said Kiely. 'You've got soft since then.'

'I really haven't,' replied Harry. 'But you'll see.' He flew off into a solo circling pattern, and Kiely didn't follow him. Harry expanded again into awareness, allowing the coiled serpent energy to arise. I mightn't be a Parselmouth any longer, but I'm still a Slytherin, he thought, and he shot into a wild feint.

Visibility was terrible, so Kiely had to follow him as he zig-zagged through the other players. Harry came close to fouling a Kestrel Chaser and then a Beater, but the whistle never blew. When he emerged his rival found him.

'So that's your strategy,' said Kiely.

'It is. Our match against Portree only lasted a quarter hour, so I have a lot of unused energy.'

'I won a six-hour match last month against the Arrows. You won't outlast me.'

'I was awake for twenty-four hours before defeating Voldemort.'

Kiely was silent a moment. 'That's impressive, I'll grant you. But you still won't win.'

'Want to bet? A pint at Dave's, perhaps?'

'Perfect,' said Kiely. 'You're on.'

From that point forward, the match was a series of escalating feints. Kiely was a surprisingly aggressive flyer—nearly as good as Routledge—but Harry was faster. And I'll be shocked if he can spot as well as I can, particularly if he's feinting non-stop.

Harry invited the perfect balance of Light magic to arise: enough to preserve his broad awareness without taking away his edge. And it was brilliant—the crowd never thinned, even after hours of driving rain, and Harry's energy felt inexhaustible. 'I can do this all day,' he said to Kiely during his next approach.

The other Seeker answered through gritted teeth. 'You're a stubborn bastard, Potter.'

'So I'm told,' he replied, diving for the Snitch. Kiely followed but he didn't have a chance—Harry was faster. 'You owe me a pint!' cried Harry, raising his arm high.

'Fuck!' bellowed Kiely. 'God knows I need one right now.'

After landing, Harry hugged his teammates and talked to reporters under a hastily-erected awning. Hot Butterbeer was served, which Harry appreciated, but after meeting Rocky he longed for a proper drink.

'Harry, this is Rocky Stefanik,' said Alex, introducing the tall, handsome wizard. 'Rocky, this is Harry Potter.'

'It's nice to meet you,' said Rocky, with no discernible animosity. 'And congratulations, that was great.'

'Cheers. Was that your first Quidditch match?'

'My first professional match, yeah. There was a Quidditch club at Westwind, but it didn't hold a candle to this.'

'Harry, well done,' said Alex, and Harry's heart melted. 'Your classmate Seamus even admitted you did a good job.'

'Did you stay warm?' he asked, trying desperately not to give her the Look.

'I did, thanks. Rocky casts a bubble that protects against rain and wind—he perfected it back at school.'

'There's a reason it's called Westwind,' he explained, and they looked affectionately at each other. Alex smiled softly, as though recalling a memory.

Bloody hell! thought Harry. 'Did you choose a restaurant?' he asked. 'Something filling would be nice, after shivering outside all afternoon.'

'I don't know if it's filling, but we have a seven-thirty reservation at Mistigri,' said Alex. 'Didn't you say you liked it?'

Bugger! he thought. 'Yes, it's lovely.'

'Oh good. We'll meet you there?'

'Yes, see you later.'

Kiely approached Harry as the couple walked away hand in hand. 'Wasn't that your girlfriend?' he asked.

'Yes, and her fiancé.'

'Are you fucking kidding me! You just got dumped and I didn't know to taunt you about it?'

'I did. And I'll be ready for that pint.'

They agreed to travel together from the stadium, since Harry didn't fancy going alone to the Kestrels stronghold. He went inside and told his teammates he wouldn't join them at the Spyglass. 'Kiely owes me a Guinness,' he explained.

'You earned it,' said Tuttle. 'If anyone still doubted you were a real Seeker, they won't anymore.'

'Were you struck by a Bludger?' asked Harry. 'Normally you'd insult me right about now.'

'I insult you when you win easy. Today you won hard. And tell Kiely he did a fine job too—that was a hell of a match.'

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, Harry found Kiely in the corridor outside the visitors' locker room. 'Where's my Guinness?' he demanded.

'Just through that fireplace. I'll go first to warn them—the Floo address is Dave's of Kenmare.'

When Harry arrived, a tense silence fell over the crowded pub. 'So, it's the English dandy,' announced a Kestrels fan. 'Are you here to lord over us?' he asked, with an emphasis on the verb.

'No, I'm here to find out if Kiely was talking bollocks about Irish beer.'

'I wasn't,' replied Kiely, and he asked the barman to pull Harry a pint. 'No pitchers here, Potter.'

He and Harry sat down, and the crowd became friendlier. 'You know, Potter, you were an honorary Irishman during the war,' said another Kestrels fan.

'Was I? Why?'

'Because the English had a price on your head. But now you're Cornelius bleeding Fudge.'

'Oi!' cried Harry, prompting laughter. 'Fudge was practically a war criminal as far as I'm concerned.'

'Asleep on the job,' said the wizard. 'Comfortable.'

'And that's what I am now?'

'You are. Posh as the Queen's tits.'

What a ghastly metaphor, thought Harry. 'So I'm supposed to live in a tent and wear old Muggle clothes again?'

'No, you're hopelessly English, and there's no point pretending you aren't. But don't be an arse about it.'

Harry's pint arrived, and after a long sip he nodded in appreciation. 'Wow, this is good,' he said. 'But how do I avoid being an arse? It sounds like I'm one already.'

'You're teetering on the edge,' said Kiely. 'Are you planning to change your name?'

'Yes, next week.'

'Black, or Potter-Black?'

Harry frowned. 'The latter.'

The Kestrels fans nodded in approval. 'That's good. You shouldn't forget your da and ma,' said an older wizard.

'I don't want to,' said Harry. 'Which is hard, since I barely remember them. But what else should I do, or not do?'

'Stop pawing witches in public,' said the wizard. 'I don't care if they're throwing themselves at you—wait until you get home.'

'But what about my loose morals in general?'

'That's none of my business,' said the wizard. 'I can't speak for everyone here, but I'm more pagan than Catholic, so I don't consider sex a sin. But parading yourself is the wrong kind of pride.'

Harry grew deeply concerned about the contract he'd just signed. 'What about endorsements?' he asked. 'Do those count as parading?'

'Not flowers or wallpaper,' said Kiely. 'But you were bloody daft to turn down Silver Arrow.'

'Right,' said Harry, unsure how this applied to his underwear endorsement. 'What if I endorsed something that, er, called a lot of attention to myself?'

Kiely's eyes shot open. 'What did you get? Not Firebolt!'

'No, not a broomstick. Something unusual, and worldwide.'

'Coca-Cola?' asked another wizard, prompting more laughter, and Harry shook his head.

'If the pay is good and you don't take yourself too seriously, it's probably all right,' said Kiely.

'The pay is good,' said Harry enigmatically.

'Then buy the next round,' called a witch, who was eavesdropping from the next table.

'What, for everyone?' asked Harry, looking around the crowded pub.

'You owe us, after leaving Kiely in bits,' said the witch.

Harry eyed her suspiciously. 'Aren't you just preying on my insecurity as an Englishman in an Irish pub?'

'You're damn right I am! But do it anyway. I bet the Blacks stole some of their gold from the Irish.'

'They probably did,' said Harry, pulling out his pouch. 'You're lucky I went to Gringotts yesterday ... will thirty Galleons cover a round?'

'It'll cover several,' said a wizard. 'Did you hear that, Declan?' he called to the barman. 'The next few rounds are on Lord Black!'

The pub erupted into cheers, and Harry paid at the bar. When he returned, the older wizard said, 'That's a start, Potter. Now what else are you going to do to fix Anglo-Irish relations?'

'Er,' stalled Harry, unsure how to reply.

'Support some Irish charities,' said a witch. 'Muggle charities.'

'Muggle charities?' said Harry, surprised.

'You said it yourself, it's hard to starve as a wizard. But Muggles are perfectly capable of starving, and the English have a history of helping it along.'

Thus began a long lesson in Irish history, which left Harry appalled. 'Why couldn't Irish wizards help more?'

'Secrecy,' said a scowling witch. 'Fucking English secrecy.'

'But it's the International Statute of Secrecy, not the British Statute of Secrecy,' said Harry.

'Yeah, and who spearheaded it? The British!'

A bookish-looking wizard spoke up. 'Indeed they did. Including a certain Ralston Potter.'

'Who?' asked Harry.

'One of your ancestors, from the 1600s. He pushed hard for the Statute of Secrecy.'

'To be fair,' said a witch, 'he was arguing against wizards who wanted to declare war on Muggles.'

'Then why did the Irish oppose secrecy?'

'We got on better with Muggles than you lot did. Irish Muggles were less afraid of magic and knew better than to persecute our children, and we helped them in return. But the British made a mess of things in the colonies—and at home—which they believed justified secrecy.'

'And that's why the Irish starved?'

'There was more than one reason,' said the bookish wizard. 'But secrecy was a big part of it.'

'Then what's the best way to help poor Muggles?' asked Harry. 'I don't see much hope in overturning secrecy, nor am I convinced it's a good idea. It might work in Ireland, but I can't see America pulling it off.'

'No, they'd never agree to it,' said the witch. 'Not even the Irish-Americans, who call themselves Irish but wouldn't know a Porlock from a Moke.'

'So that leaves Muggle charities?'

'Yes, and don't make a big deal about it. No one wants to hear you gobshiting on the radio about how generous you are.'

'Right. Is there anything else I should be doing?'

'Keep pissing off the establishment,' said a wizard. 'There's nothing worse than a complacent, complicit Englishman.'

'Like Cornelius Fudge,' said Harry, draining the last of his Guinness.

'Exactly. Will you have another?' asked the wizard, indicating Harry's glass. 'Some lickarse left thirty Galleons on the bar.'

'No thanks, I'm a lightweight.'

'So that's where I can outpace you!' cried Kiely. 'Next time we face each other, we should drain a pint every half-hour.'

'Not bloody likely,' replied Harry, laughing.

He returned to Kenmare Stadium and used the portkey Lara left for him. Thank Merlin I didn't have a second pint! he thought gratefully when he slammed to the ground. Nevertheless, when he went home he lay on the sofa for half an hour until Lisa found him.

'There you are!' she announced, entering the sitting room. 'Are we a little tired after the match?'

'No, I'm fine,' he said, sitting up. 'That's a lovely dress.'

'Cheers. I don't get to wear it often, but I suppose that could change if I don't blow it tonight.'

'Why would you blow it?'

'Because I speak my mind, even to the great Harry Potter.'

'That's fine with me. I just spent the better part of an hour being scolded in an Irish pub.'

'You choose weird ways to spend your time,' she observed. 'But enough talk ... show me that wardrobe of yours.'

He led her upstairs, and after laughing at the size of his bed she entered the wardrobe, which was freestanding and opened into a small room. 'Oh yes,' she said approvingly. 'This is everything I hoped it would be. But what's this? A three-piece suit?'

'Yes, I just bought it. With Alex, in fact.'

'You have to wear it,' she said, pulling it out. 'It's bespoke, right?'

'More or less. A Muggle would call it made-to-measure, but magic produces a result that's similar to bespoke.'

'Fantastic. Put it on.'

'Er, some privacy please?'

She exited the wardrobe and Harry changed clothes. 'Full marks!' declared Lisa when he emerged. 'You'll definitely make the cover of the Prophet.' But then she turned pale. 'Blast! So will I!'

'Should I change into something less conspicuous?' he asked. 'I don't mind.'

'No, it's a Battle of the Dandies,' said Lisa. 'But maybe the Prophet will photograph you and Rambo instead.'

'His name's Rocky,' said Harry. 'Do you want me to owl Rita Skeeter and ensure they don't run your picture?'

Lisa furrowed her brow. 'I don't know. My mates would be furious with me for turning down the opportunity, but I don't want everyone to assume we're sleeping together.'

'Between the Prophet and the radio, I can get the message out that we're only friends. And as I pointed out yesterday, you can appear on the radio yourself to reinforce it.'

'You'd really let me slag you on the radio?'

'Lee and George do it all the time.'

'True. When are you announcing your name change?'

'Tuesday morning, in the Prophet.'

Lisa thought for a moment. 'It would make sense to have another Black on the air with you, to represent the rest of us.'

'I'd love that. I really don't want to turn the Blacks into the Harry Potter show.'

'We'll be the Harry Potter show for the next fifty years at least,' she said. 'Unless you count Walburga.'

'You're right. She's probably more famous than Sirius by now.'

'Easily. Everyone asks me if we're related.'

'Didn't people ask you about Sirius?'

'They did, but as far as anyone knew we were unconnected.'

'I wish you could have met him,' said Harry, adjusting his necktie in the mirror. 'And vice versa. He would have loved meeting all the new relations.'

'Even the Whites?' she asked slyly.

Harry peered at her. 'Weren't they friendly?'

'They weren't unfriendly,' she began. 'But they didn't exactly invite us round for Christmas.'

'If it makes you feel better, they didn't invite me round either.'

'Even after you offered to sponsor them?'

'You heard about that?' asked Harry sheepishly.

'Oh yes. They seemed very pleased. Have you heard from anyone yet?'

'No. Do you know what I should expect?'

'Let's just say I overheard the word "dowry,"' said Lisa.

'Bugger! Are you serious?'

'I am. Perseus White was an eldest son after all.'

'I know, but he wasn't in line to be Head of House.'

'The Blacks still had a lot of gold back then. He would have received a significant inheritance if he hadn't rejected the Dark Arts.'

Harry sighed. 'And I'm a Light wizard, so of course they expect me to admire that. And I do.'

Lisa was examining the array of boutonnières on the dresser. 'Do you wear flowers with a three-piece suit?'

'I have no idea. What do you think?'

She held one up to his lapel. 'No, it ruins the lines. And this way you'll shock everyone.'

'By not wearing flowers? I really don't recognise my life anymore.'

They started downstairs, and she asked, 'Can you afford to sponsor all your poor relations? I'm not asking for myself, but I'm worried you'll have a new millstone around your neck.'

'Er, can you keep a secret?'

Her eyes shot open. 'Were you lying? Are you actually richer than the Queen?'

'No, not at all! I said that under Veritaserum, remember?'

'Oh right. Carry on.'

'I signed a very lucrative contract yesterday,' he began.

'What kind of contract?'

He paused. 'I'm not sure whether I should tell you or show you.'

'Show me the contract?'

'No, show you the type of advert I've agreed to appear in.'

'Oh my god, there's nudity, isn't there!'

'Not full-frontal,' he said, but she started laughing.

'Do you have photos already? I need to see them.'

'Not of me, but Muggle adverts.' He led her to the sitting room and pulled out the dog-eared magazine and opened it. 'They won't run in Britain,' he said preemptively. 'Only abroad.'

She gaped silently as she flipped through the adverts. 'Does Narcissa Malfoy know?'

'She pretty much ordered me to do it.'

'Probably because her husband's in Azkaban and she needs visual aids,' said Lisa, smirking.

'She's old enough to be my mother!'

'You never know. I've heard pervy comments about you from women older than that.'

'Not from Narcissa, I hope!'

'Good lord no! All she said to me was that I looked like Callidora Black.'

'Believe me, I have no intention of sleeping with Narcissa Malfoy. Not only would Draco kill me with his bare hands, but the branches on the tapestry are already tangled enough.'

'You of all people should know you needn't marry the witch,' she said. 'And someone else might tangle the branches for you.'

'Do you mean Draco?'

'If Catherine White gets her way. She struck me as highly motivated.'

'She certainly seemed to fancy him.' With a chuckle, he added, 'She barely gave me the time of day.'

'Not with your vow, she wouldn't. In fact, I hope you thanked whoever suggested it, since she spared you any number of gold diggers. At least the ones with matrimonial ambitions.'

'Honestly, I've had almost no trouble with gold diggers. The most I've had to buy was an expensive dinner.'

'No jewellery or clothing?' she asked.

'Oh right, once. But that was with a Muggle who didn't know who I was, and I was the one to suggest it.'

'But never with a witch?

'No. In fact, Lydia probably spent more on me than I spent on her. Which reminds me, I should write to Rita.' He pulled his monogrammed stationery from the drawer and jotted a quick letter.

Lisa held a sheet of notepaper to the light and examined the watermark. 'Will you replace it after Tuesday?'

'Most likely, although I'll use this up when writing to friends. Should I get a stag watermark again, or is it too pretentious?'

'Why not a Slytherin watermark?'

'Tempting. But no.'

She frowned in consideration. 'It's definitely pretentious, but it's also cool. And isn't the stag your father?'

'You're right, it is. The stag stays.' He addressed the envelope and said, 'On a related topic, do you want to see my ravens?'

Lisa burst out laughing. 'Please tell me you use that line on other witches.'

'I don't, and they're not actually ravens.' He told her about the jackdaws as they walked up to the owlery.

Looking around the house, she asked, 'How many people were at your last party?'

'I invited the entire Quidditch league, along with their guests, which totalled around four hundred.'

'Four hundred! It must have been wall-to-wall people!' After he reminded her about the roof and the guest rooms, she asked, 'Will you throw another party soon?'

'My teammates are after me to do it, but I'm reluctant.'

'Why? You obviously have Rita Skeeter under control now.'

'True, but my teammates won't be satisfied with a regular party. They want a drag party.'

'Oh my god, yes! How do I get invited?'

'You alter the fabric of the universe such that I'm willing to throw a drag party.'

She interlaced her fingers and made a show of cracking her knuckles. 'No problem. What are you planning to wear in this altered universe?'

'A dress, I suppose. But the real issue is makeup.'

'Muggle makeup?'

'Yes. This all started when they censored that bit from my Veritaserum broadcast. It was about how a Frenchman chatted me up at a nightclub because I was wearing eye makeup.'

'That must have looked fantastic. Do you have photos?'

'Not a chance! And that's the problem with hosting a drag party—no matter how I try to prevent it, word is bound to get out.'

'You can make people sign a contract saying they won't talk about the party. And you can prevent photographs from being taken, even though that would be a tragic loss to future historians.'

He shook his head. 'It'll still get out. And it would be further proof of my debauchery.'

'Rubbish! This isn't anywhere near as debauched as what you've already done. And you can just blame the Light magic and say it's to balance your energies or something.'

'Are you making that up?'

'Mostly, yeah. But I've heard of male yogis who deliberately cultivate their feminine side in order to become spiritually complete. And vice versa, presumably.'

'Interesting,' replied Harry, recalling Alex's advice about being less needy.

'One could argue you've been doing it already, by wearing flowers and that French scarf,' she continued. 'Ask your teacher about it—I bet it's legitimate.'

'I'll think about it,' he said, although she'd already convinced him. 'Do you have mates you'd want to invite?'

'Do I ever! Are you serious?'

'Maybe. Although I wouldn't invite the Quidditch league to this one. Probably just school friends, my teammates, and their friends.'

'What about Draco Malfoy?' she asked slyly.

'Ugh, I suppose I'll have to. I already promised I'd invite his friend Pansy.'

Lisa sniggered. 'He'd go out of his way to make himself prettier than you.'

'Would he be prettier?' asked Harry competitively.

'I can't say. Your eyes are prettier—no question. But you have very masculine features, which mightn't work in your favour.'

'I lured a Frenchman,' he argued.

'Yes, but he was attracted to men. Honestly, you'll do better if you don't try to pass as female but just play with gender bending. Glam rock, you know.'

'You're not the first one to suggest that,' said Harry. 'But what would you wear? You'd look smashing in wizards' robes.'

Her eyes widened. 'Could I borrow some?'

'Of course, I already told Gemma she could. If I actually throw this party, that is.'

'You're throwing it,' declared Lisa. 'For one thing, you need something to distract you from the Alex situation.'

He nodded sadly. 'That's a good point. Did I mention I'm not looking forward to dinner?'

'Then why did you agree to it?'

'She wanted to introduce me to her fiancé,' he said. 'And probably reassure him that he's her true love and I was just some manwhore she used to pass the time.'

'Is that true?'

'She called it a pocket romance, which is more poetic than calling it a fling. But that's not what it was for me. I could have fallen for her. I almost have done.'

'I can see that. You really are romantic!'

'I know,' he said sadly.

After a long silence, she asked, 'Do you have many female friends?'

'There's Hermione. And my teammates, and a couple other school friends. But otherwise no.'

'That's not bad, actually. But I was surprised when you asked me to dinner, and it made me wonder why you didn't invite someone you knew better.'

He explained why he'd invited her, as opposed to Hermione or Gemma. 'Also, it gave me something to look forward to. I'm not used to having relations my own age. Wizarding relations, that is.'

'I'm not used to having relations or even friends from old wizarding families. I know that technically describes me now, but I don't think I'll ever leave off feeling like an outsider.'

'Those bloody wards,' muttered Harry. 'Phineas Nigellus didn't even turn up in his frame at the reunion.'

'No, but my brother saw him hiding behind a houseplant in someone else's frame.'

Harry looked at his pocket watch and sighed. 'Time for dinner,' he said, and he led her to the kitchen. 'If I were a better host I wouldn't make you use the kitchen fireplace, but my friends all use it.'

'I'm flattered you consider me worthy of your kitchen,' she replied with mock solemnity.

They travelled by Floo to the restaurant, which was crowded on a Saturday night. Harry's outfit attracted notice, but not as much as Lisa did. Poor thing, he thought. Everyone assumes she's my latest. He deliberately stepped away from her and made sure his body language conveyed only friendship.

Alex and Rocky arrived a minute later through the front door. They didn't see Harry at first, which gave him an opportunity to look at Alex in plain admiration. She's so elegant! he thought, and his heart leapt. But then Rocky drew his attention, and Harry couldn't ignore how perfectly they suited each other.

Rocky had worn a smart woollen jumper during the match, but now he was wearing robes that were subtly different to any Harry had seen. They must be American, he supposed, and he was torn between resentment and curiosity.

'Harry!' said Alex, not taking his hand. 'I hope you've recovered from the match this afternoon. That looked exhausting.'

'I have done, thanks,' he replied, and he introduced Lisa.

'You look like Sirius,' said Alex, giving Harry a knowing look. But Harry shook his head minutely, as if to say, You're not just going to fob me off onto another witch.

Alex seemed to deflate, which made Harry regret his hostile attitude. 'Our table is ready,' he said, trying to sound more upbeat.

He signalled to the host, who led them partway through the restaurant to a table in full view. Bugger, I should have arranged for something more private, thought Harry, not relishing having his heartbreak on public display. But I let Alex make the reservation, he recalled, and he invited Light magic to help him through the evening.

'I have to thank you for referring me to your tailor,' said Rocky. 'After the match, Alex and I picked out my robes for the wedding, and they even gave me a discount.'

'They're the Montesquiou robes,' said Alex. 'The shop assistant showed us the picture you gave them.'

This led to a discussion about Paris and the revelation that Rocky spoke French, and that they were considering going there for their honeymoon. 'Obviously we want to see all the sights,' said Rocky, 'but I also have colleagues in Paris, so it would be a great opportunity to collaborate.'

That doesn't sound like much of a honeymoon, thought Harry scornfully, but Alex expressed eagerness as well. 'I showed Rocky the duplicate version of that book, and he agrees completely that it relates to his team's work.'

'But you won't get a Philosopher's Stone out of it,' said Rocky. 'Is it true you once held one?'

'Yes, but only for a moment,' said Harry, trying not to think about how he'd killed Quirrell immediately afterwards.

'I learned about you growing up, but I had no idea until recently how badly the British newspapers treated you. We just heard bits and pieces in America.'

'It's true,' said Alex. 'I heard more because my parents sought out British news, but otherwise Americans are extremely parochial.'

Harry didn't know what parochial meant, and he didn't dare ask in front of Rocky. Fortunately Lisa rescued him. 'The British are just as bad,' she said. 'We scarcely know what's happening on the Continent, let alone America or around the globe.'

This led to a discussion of American wizarding politics, which Harry largely ignored. Rocky's better-looking than I am, he thought sullenly. His hair was curly, mostly on top of his head, and it flowed loosely over his forehead. I wonder if he'll go bald, thought Harry, and he tried to decide whether Rocky could make it work as he'd done.

And he's clever too. I probably look right daft to him, sitting here not saying anything while they're discussing issues of global importance. I'm just a bloody weapon who's stretching his time in the spotlight by playing Quidditch and modelling underwear.

'Harry, tell Rocky about your plans to rework the goblin treaties,' said Alex. 'Harry's terribly ambitious politically,' she explained. 'Not for public office, but to make a difference in the Wizengamot, which is the governing body here.'

Harry described his wish to unravel the restrictions on British goblins, which impressed both Rocky and Lisa. 'That's amazing,' said Rocky. 'You're really in a unique position, not only as a war hero and a Quidditch star, but also as a member of the ruling class. Normally I'm opposed to hereditary political power, since it usually just reinforces entrenched interests, but you can make a real difference.'

'That's where I come in,' said Lisa. 'On his own, Harry might only meet a handful of commoners like myself, and they'd all be overpaid Quidditch players. But I plan to force him to mingle with the hoi polloi.'

'You're making me sound like a snob!' said Harry.

'I hate to break it to you, cousin, but you are one.'

'What? No I'm not!' Frowning, he added, 'There's a difference between a snob and a toff, right?'

'You look through people you're not interested in,' said Lisa. 'I saw it more than once, back before we met.'

'I can't believe I'd have looked through you,' he said without thinking, and the women laughed.

'You most certainly did. Once was last year, while you were still dating Ginny Weasley, and the second time was earlier this month, when you were out with Lydia Travers. The two of you together looked like the snootiest couple I'd ever seen.'

They were all drinking wine, and only after his first glass did Harry remember he hadn't eaten since before the match. That pint of Guinness was oddly filling, he realised.

'Does this happen to you?' he asked Rocky. 'Clearly you dress well—do people hold it against you?'

'All the time,' he replied. 'Particularly when I'm among No-Majes. But I'm not famous, so I don't make a lasting impression.'

Harry frowned. 'But I wasn't even dressed well last year,' he told Lisa. 'I was either wearing my Auror robes or jeans and a shirt.'

'The latter,' said Lisa. 'But it was your overall vibe, which said, "Don't even think of approaching me." I understood, though—you were still in mourning. I know I wasn't myself for a full six months after my grandmum died.'

'It's true,' said Alex. 'I wasn't myself for weeks after my parents' cat died—Rocky can tell you.'

'We also knew so little about you back then,' continued Lisa. 'None of us had any idea what a raging shagmonster you were.'

In an interesting juxtaposition, Alex reddened while Rocky turned pale. 'Oops, I probably shouldn't have said that,' said Lisa, who was also blushing. 'But at least it's out in the open now. I'm sure the conversation will become far more interesting, although I didn't have any complaints earlier.'

Contrary to Lisa's prediction, there was a long, awkward silence. Harry, throwing caution to the wind, refilled his wine glass and said, 'Will you two move in together after Alex returns to America?'

'Yes, and we quarrelled about it this afternoon,' replied Alex.

Quarrelled? thought Harry hopefully, and he waited for Alex to explain.

'The problem is location,' she said. 'I've always lived on the North Side, but Rocky is an entrenched South Sider.'

Harry was bewildered. 'Why would that matter? I thought you said Apparition was common there.'

'It's not about location,' countered Rocky. 'It's about culture. Similar to No-Maj Chicagoans, wizards from the North and South Sides have completely different habits and attitudes. The short version is that South Siders are illiterate louts who'd just as soon punch you as use a wand, and North Siders are insular snobs who don't know the South Side exists.'

'He's exaggerating,' began Alex, but Rocky shook his head.

'I was exaggerating to make a point. Obviously I'm not much of a fighter, and Alex isn't a snob, but those are the stereotypes.'

'Didn't you go to school together?' asked Lisa. 'I'd have thought that would smooth out differences.'

'Yes and no,' said Alex. 'For one thing, Chicago has two different Quodpot teams, and the North Side supports one and the South Side supports the other. Loyalties are extremely high, and I've seen people fight over them.'

'Over Quodpot teams?' exclaimed Harry. 'What a completely daft thing to fight over.'

'Unlike blood purity, which is a clever and enlightened thing to fight over,' said Lisa.

'We also don't kill each other over Quodpot loyalties,' added Alex. 'But that's beside the point. There are also racial and ethnic differences between North and South Siders, and those don't just disappear because we're all magical.'

Harry studied Alex and Rocky, trying to discern the ethnic difference between them.

'I'm mostly Irish, with some Polish and Lithuanian,' explained Rocky. 'We'll leave Alex out, since she's atypical, but North Siders are generally less connected to their immigrant roots.'

'Then wouldn't you fit in better on the South Side?' Harry asked Alex. 'Your parents are immigrants, after all.'

'Yes and no. For one thing, they came to America as wizards, which already gave them a huge advantage. Whereas Rocky's forbears were Muggles and had to struggle a lot more.'

Harry remembered what he'd learnt that afternoon about the Great Famine, and he realised Rocky was probably descended from people who'd fled.

'Furthermore,' continued Alex, 'my family is English and mostly Protestant, which puts us at the top of the American hierarchy. Even working-class British people have a leg up when they move to America, since they already speak the language and have easily-pronounced surnames.'

'But the Irish spoke English,' argued Harry.

'Not all of them,' said Rocky. 'And most Irish immigrants were poor and uneducated, which meant they experienced discrimination for more than a century.'

'And that still persists among wizards?' asked Lisa.

'Not really. But resentment and clannishness don't disappear overnight, hence the divide.'

Alex looked embarrassed. 'I probably am a snob for not wanting to move to the South Side. And I need to get over it—we should live there.'

'But I'm being pushy,' said Rocky. 'And Harry's right—with Apparition it doesn't matter where we live.'

'Not as long as we're together,' said Alex tenderly, and Harry's heart broke, seeing her look at Rocky as she'd once looked at him.

'You can settle this on your own,' interjected Lisa. 'And I think we need more wine.'

'Agreed,' said Harry, who had finished his second glass. He allowed his hands to glow before waving for their waiter.

Lisa started laughing. 'Did you do that on purpose to get wine faster?'

'Yes, Draco Malfoy suggested it.'

They ordered another bottle, only this time Harry insisted on elf-made wine. 'I'll pay for it,' he said. 'I caught the bleeding Snitch, which means I get a bonus.'

'And he signed the contract,' whispered Lisa loudly.

Alex's eyes widened. 'It's official?' she asked, and Harry nodded.

'Including America,' he said. 'For all I know, my photo will be on a billboard next to the church where you're married.'

'They wouldn't put that kind of billboard next to a church,' scoffed Lisa.

'Oh yes they would,' said Alex. 'Remember this is America we're talking about.'

'I have no idea what's going on,' said Rocky.

'We can't talk about it in public,' said Harry in a stage whisper. 'Scandal, you know.'

'Isn't that what you're changing your name to?' asked Lisa. 'Harry Scandal Potter?'

'Potter-Black,' he mumbled. 'Harry Scandal Potter-Black.'

The wine arrived, and so did their starters. 'Oh my god, this is good,' said Lisa. 'Why didn't we order elf-made wine to start with?'

'I didn't want to look like I was asserting dominance by jumping to the expensive half of the wine list,' said Harry. 'Although I have no idea who's paying tonight—I assume we'll split it halfway.'

'That's what I assumed,' replied Rocky.

It won't be the first thing we've split, thought Harry bitterly. 'What do you think of England?' he asked Rocky. 'Have you been here before?'

'No. Remember it was considered unsafe for years.'

'So I've heard,' replied Harry. 'But what do you think now?'

'I wish I had more time to spend here,' said Rocky. 'Between the Muggle and wizarding sights, there's so much I want to see. But unfortunately this was a quick trip.'

Yes, to reclaim Alex from her manwhore, thought Harry. 'Will you be back?'

Alex responded in the affirmative, describing an itinerary they'd obviously worked out in advance. 'I went to some of those places as a child, but others I've only heard about. Rocky and I have long imagined where we'll go someday.'

'Do either of you intend to visit America?' asked Rocky.

'I'd like to go eventually,' replied Lisa, 'but I hardly know when. And how would I even decide where to go? It's so big!'

'You just pick somewhere,' said Alex. 'New York City, or the Grand Canyon, or San Francisco. And then next time you go somewhere else.'

'I hear the World Quidditch Conference will be in Chicago this winter,' said Rocky.

Harry was astonished. 'But, but why?' he sputtered. 'Americans barely play Quidditch!'

'That's just it,' said Rocky. 'Apparently none of the organisers could agree on a location this year. Everyone wanted it in their own region, and nobody was willing to compromise. They were stuck until they received a proposal from a Chicago-based event planner, and they agreed it was mutually disadvantageous.'

'I'm supposed to attend,' said Harry absently, thinking of the petition Krum was circulating.

'Then you can reject Jodi and Heidi!' said Alex jubilantly. 'Oh dear, that was rather loud, wasn't it.'

'You should arrange a publicity event relating to your scandalous endorsement,' said Lisa. 'Involving autographs, or perhaps a live fashion show.'

'Oi! That's not in my contract.'

'But you get a percentage of sales, right? My dowry won't come cheap.'

'I'm not paying your dowry.'

'Then no one will have me, and I'll be an old maid. I hope you can live with yourself.'

'I'm starting to piece together what this mysterious contract is about,' said Rocky.

'Shh, it's a scandal!' said Lisa. 'Alex has been shagging the most scandal-prone wizard in Britain.'

'Don't use the S-word,' said Harry. 'We were "dating."'

'Six times a night,' muttered Lisa.

'Not true,' said Harry, and Alex shook her head vehemently.

'Have we already finished this bottle?' asked Rocky, pouring the dregs into his glass.

'Monsieur!' called Alex. 'Encore du vin, s'il vous plaît ... Oui, le même qu'avant.' She turned to Harry and said, 'I ordered another bottle of the elf-made wine. You'll have to pay for it, though, because Rocky can't afford it.'

'I can so!' protested Rocky.

'Not after buying those robes, my dear.'

'She's brilliant, isn't she?' said Harry. 'But where's the rest of our food? I flew for nearly four hours today and all I've eaten are starters and a loaf of Guinness.'

'How would I know where our food is?' said Rocky. 'This isn't my country. And yes, she's brilliant. You earned my respect by appreciating her, although I could have done without the dating.'

'It's called "shagging,"' said Lisa.

'I think Americans call it "screwing,"' said Harry.

'Is elf-made wine particularly strong?' asked Alex, sniffing her glass.

They debated the virtues of elf-made wine until the next bottle arrived. 'But where's our bloody food?' said Harry. 'I should have had Kreacher send something to tide me over.'

'Show Rocky your trick!' insisted Alex.

'He made it clear he doesn't want to see my tricks,' replied Harry, causing Lisa to laugh again. 'Oh, you meant how I communicate with Kreacher, and not that thing with your shoulder blades.'

'Excuse me, I'm right here,' said Rocky.

'Relax, you won,' said Lisa. 'Alex is obviously crazy about you. Harry was just her manwhore.'

'The Manwhore Who Lived,' declared Harry. 'But should I really have Kreacher send food?'

'No, have him send boutonnières,' said Alex. 'Rocky was too proud to wear one.'

'I was not!'

'Your exact words were, "I'm not going to dress like a Harry Potter fanboy."' she said, and Rocky scowled.

Kreacher! called Harry silently.

Yes, Master! came the reply.

Please send over a selection of boutonnières, to my table in the restaurant.

Yes, Master! With pleasure!

A velvet tray with five boutonnières appeared on the table, and Alex and Rocky began debating which one he should wear. Lisa dismantled one and slid the flower behind her ear.

'You really are beautiful,' said Harry. 'The Blacks may have been mad as hatters, but they were good-looking.'

'Why won't you date each other?' asked Alex.

'Because I don't want to let you off the hook,' replied Harry. 'You broke my heart, after all.'

'You knew I had a fiancé,' she said firmly.

'I did, but that doesn't prevent me from being needy. Dead-mum trauma, you know.'

'He's terribly needy,' Alex told Lisa.

'I suspected as much. Harry, have you decided who you'll cling to next?' asked Lisa.

'Are you sure you're not interested? We're only fourth cousins, which Ron says doesn't count.'

'You're just saying that because I'm right here. And the answer is still no.'

'Why not?' asked Alex. 'Fourth cousins aren't close at all. And he is lovely. Go on, Harry, give her the Look.'

He tried gazing longingly at Lisa, but he kept breaking into laughter. 'Hang on, I need to warm up on Alex.' He turned towards her and was quickly overwhelmed by affection.

'There it is,' said Alex. 'Now transfer it. Go on, you can do it.'

Harry moved his gaze to Lisa and allowed it to settle. She really is pretty, he thought. And clever, and witty. And we're not closely related.

Lisa, who had been laughing, looked more serious than before. 'So that's how you do it,' she murmured. 'Impressive.'

Harry was torn between two impulses. I could bring her home, he thought. We could take it slowly even. But he also yearned for her friendship. If we were friends I wouldn't lose her.

He closed his eyes and shook his head rapidly. 'No, I'd rather be friends,' he declared. 'I like you too much.'

Lisa, whose cheeks were flushed, said, 'You're right, of course. And I could never go out with you.'

'It would save you money on her dowry,' prompted Alex.

'No, I'd definitely scare her off before I turned twenty-one. It's better this way.'

Lisa drank some water and said, 'If that was Light magic, sign me up.'

'No, that was just a sinkhole of emotional trauma,' replied Harry.

'And eyelashes,' added Alex.

'You're one to talk,' said Rocky fondly. He straightened and said, 'I think I've been a remarkably good sport, all things considered.'

'You can't fool me,' chided Alex. 'You're delighted to be part of an international scandal.'

'That's my new middle name,' said Harry.

Their food finally arrived, and the playful banter continued, culminating in a mock duel between Harry and Rocky, using cornichons. 'Victory is mine, Limey!' cried Rocky after Lisa stole Harry's cornichon and ate it.

'Watch your back, Yank!' retorted Harry. 'Do we want pudding?'

'Yes, please,' said Alex, waving over the waiter.

Their intoxication had levelled off during the main course, thanks to the food, but Lisa insisted on trying a dessert wine. 'I hereby relinquish any claim to a dowry. We can just spend it on wine, over the course of our long and platonic friendship.'

'Done,' said Harry, looking over the wine list. Alex and Rocky were holding hands atop the table, and Harry wasn't even upset. They're a good couple, he thought indulgently.

When they were preparing to leave, they discussed their strategy for the photographers. 'How can we ensure this makes the Chicago Beacon?' asked Rocky. 'I have a reputation to uphold, Potter, and you damaged it.'

'Potter-Black. And I know.'

They decided on the Battle of the Dandies. Harry and Rocky would stand in the middle, glaring at each other, with Alex and Lisa on either side. Alex would hold Rocky's hand while Lisa looked down her nose at Harry, deeming him unworthy.

'That suit is fantastic,' admitted Rocky. 'I'll have to save up for my next trip to England.'

'And you'll have to tell me where you bought those robes. In Chicago, I presume?'

'Yes. On the South Side, in fact.'

After their photograph was taken, Alex took Harry's hand. 'Thanks,' she said. 'For everything.'

'Will I see you in Chicago?' he asked.

'If you want to.'

'I'd like that,' said Harry, and she squeezed his hand before letting it go.

He and Rocky shook hands, and then Lisa hugged Harry goodbye. 'We came close, didn't we?' she whispered.

'This way is better,' he replied. 'I'd much rather keep you around.'

'Throw that party!' she ordered, before turning on her heel and disappearing.

Harry watched Alex and Rocky as they walked away, arm in arm. They're a good fit, he thought, and he recalled when he'd first met her. Three years too late? he wondered. Or maybe it was all perfect.