Author's note:

Thank you, as ever, for all the reviews—I really appreciate them! I apologize for not replying to all of them directly, but FFN isn't the best medium for that. If you prefer a more interactive commenting experience, head over to Archive of Our Own, where I'm posting as well.

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Harry and Sophie were amused the next morning by the contrast between their breakfasts, which appeared on the dining room table when they sat down. His was the usual eggs, beans, toast, sausage, mushrooms, and tomatoes, along with fruit, tea, and a croissant. Hers, however, was only fruit, yogurt, and coffee.

'I do not know where you put it all,' she said, poking his abdomen.

'You should come watch me at practice sometime. There's no mystery.'

'Really, could I? I would like to meet your colleagues and see you fly.'

'Absolutely,' said Harry between bites. 'You can even join us for lunch tomorrow, if only to give the Muggle waitress a shock.'

'Why not today?'

'Ron and I are having lunch with a former professor at a filthy pub near Hogwarts, which you'd hate. Although, come to think of it, you won't like my usual lunch venue either. I assume you don't care for British pub food.'

'No, it is horrible. But perhaps they have a salad?'

'I doubt it. How about a jacket potato?'

'I don't know what that is.' Harry explained, and she said, 'Perhaps with butter and salt it is not so bad, but why are the English so obsessed with beans from a can?'

'Because they're good,' he argued, holding up his fork. 'I realise they're not foie gras or coq au vin, but tinned beans are British comfort food. I can't tell you how much I missed them during the war.'

'Now you make me feel bad, because you ate nothing but mushrooms and fish while I went to parties and drank champagne.'

'Don't feel bad, ma chère. I'm glad you were having a good time and weren't in danger. And now I have all the beans on toast I require, and even the occasional champagne.'

'But not together,' she said, and they resumed eating. Midway through their meal, the Prophet appeared on the table, still rolled up. 'Is it usually this late?' she asked.

'No, which means there's probably extra dirt. I'm guessing old photos of you. Are you ready?'

Sophie nodded, and he unrolled the newspaper, revealing the headline:

FEMME FATALE: Parisian Beauty Snags Potter After Celibacy Vow.

'Now that's a photograph!' exclaimed Harry, chuckling. The photo, which was unusually large, looked almost like a wedding portrait. Sophie was radiant in her gown, and Harry was a convincing bridegroom, looking alternately at the camera and at his bride. But Sophie looked anything but innocent.

'I should have known,' she scoffed. 'Of course the English paint me this way.'

The article began:

Harry Potter-Black claims he won't marry before his twenty-first birthday, but he and French fashion model Sophie Tavernier showed the world what to expect when Britain's most notorious playboy eventually takes a bride.

They dazzled onlookers last night at Penumbra, the decadent vampire-owned bar best known for launching Potter-Black's well-documented 'night of sweet exhaustion' several months ago. Which made it all the more ironic when he turned up looking like a proper bridegroom, with Miss Tavernier in a stunning white dress of her own design.

'She's the best match yet for Harry,' declared Prophet fashion editor Xanthippe Codmopple. 'Who better than a fashion model to accompany England's preeminent style icon? And her dress was a daring twist on the traditional wedding gown—the white satin says "bride," but the black lace and beads scream "fille de joie." Bravo, Sophie!'

Industry observer Reginald Hem concurred. 'Sophie looked positively divine in her less-than-virginal wedding dress. And what a statement, since all Britain knows what they were doing last night, after Potter's celibacy vow ended. He said the dress was entirely her idea, which suggests she's as much of a dandy as he is. So I'm delighted they're stepping out together, and I eagerly await their next appearance.'

Questions abound regarding their newly-rekindled relationship. For example, has the French seductress already captured Potter-Black's famously susceptible heart? Also, what brought her to England the same weekend his well-publicised vow came to an end? Was it really coincidence, as the two claim, or did she swoop in deliberately?

Miss Tavernier undoubtedly has much to gain from her association with Potter-Black. Her modelling career can only benefit, and if she plays her cards right she could easily return to France with a new wardrobe and perhaps a sparkling souvenir from the Black family vault. Indeed, Potter-Black was spotted at Gringotts yesterday, retrieving a small parcel that may well have contained jewellery.

The article continued inside the newspaper, with numerous photographs from Sophie's modelling career. 'Wow,' exclaimed Harry. 'The eye makeup you put on me looks tame by comparison. Are those feathers?' he asked, pointing at a particularly dramatic look.

'Yes. Do you want to me to do the same to you on Saturday?'

'Merlin, no! But maybe Jack Parrish and his mates should consider it.' After they finished reading the article, he asked, 'Are you all right? They made you out to be a gold-digger.'

'Pfft, that is always what they say about models. But what do you think? They make you look helpless around a diabolical Frenchwoman.'

'That's because I am,' he said, giving her the Look. 'But what should we say on the radio tonight? I don't want people to think you're manipulating me.'

'It is you who manipulate me, with your big eyes. But I think we should just tell the truth, and let the English think what they want.'

He arrived at practice fifteen minutes early, and Lara was Spellotaping the front page of the Prophet to the wall containing team press clippings. 'I know it's not Quidditch, but that dress is fantastic.'

Harry was about to reply when Mrs Thwip entered the room. 'Mr Potter-Black,' she said. 'A word, please.'

Bugger! I'm in trouble for dressing like a bridegroom. 'Yes, of course, Mrs Thwip,' he said, following her down the corridor to her office.

She sat down and motioned for him to do the same. 'I'll be frank, Mr Potter-Black. I was very alarmed when I saw this morning's Prophet.'

'Er, we didn't mean any disrespect,' he began, but she interrupted him.

'Is she taking advantage of you? Did you really give her jewellery?'

'What? No! That's a tiara I'm loaning Gemma for the party.'

Mrs Thwip's frown deepened. 'I realise you're not a traditional wizard, but allowing a witch to wear family jewellery sends a clear message. And I assume you don't want to give Miss Rees the wrong idea.'

Harry was grateful she wasn't angry, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'Trust me, Gemma's less traditional than I am. There's no way she'd interpret the tiara as some kind of declaration. Besides, she's Muggle-born and probably doesn't even know what it means.'

'Other people will. And you mustn't mislead her. I believe I've made myself clear on that topic before.'

'Mrs Thwip, I can guarantee Gemma doesn't see me that way. Seriously, she insults me all day while we're flying, and off the broom as well. We're just friends.'

She studied his expression. 'As you say, Mr Potter-Black. But what about this Frenchwoman? Are you certain about her motives?'

'I am, and thanks for your concern. She knows I fall in love easily, so we're deliberately taking things slowly.'

Harry had never seen one eyebrow rise so much higher than its mate. 'Slowly?' she said sceptically.

'Well, not in all respects, obviously. But I'm aware that I tend to become emotionally dependent on whoever I'm dating, so I'm taking precautions.'

'Such as?'

Harry paused, realising he'd spoken without thinking. 'Er,' he stalled. 'I'm not hassling her to move in with me.'

'Oh? Where is she staying?'

'Erm, with me. But only until her next job, which could be any day now.'

Mrs Thwip's eyebrows were once again next to each other, with a deep line between them. 'I'll remind you that I read all your post, and there are witches who would stop at nothing to entrap you.'

'Perhaps, but I'm not very trappable, thanks to my vow against early marriage.'

'There are other ways to trap a wizard, Mr Potter-Black. Particularly one with your ... enthusiasm for intimate relations.'

For a moment, Harry was too mortified to reply. 'I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you I'm very careful. Furthermore, I sincerely doubt Sophie wants to get pregnant right now, since it would completely upend her modelling career.'

'Perhaps. But I hope you'll be vigilant.'

All morning his teammates made comments about Sophie, and even Owen weighed in. 'Jill let out a shriek this morning when she saw the Prophet—for a moment she thought you'd actually got married.'

'Oh no, really?'

'Can you blame her? The headline said Sophie had "snagged" you and there was that photo on the cover. You had to start reading the article to realise it was just a stunt.'

'A stunt? That wasn't our intention! Sophie just wanted to raise a few eyebrows at Penumbra, since it would be obvious we hadn't actually married. But we never meant to fool anyone.'

'I know, and that was clear from the context. But the Prophet editors knew what they were doing when they designed that cover.'

'Ugh, I'm sorry. Do you know if other people got that impression?'

Owen glared at him. 'If you're asking about Fiona, I have no idea. But she's up to her ears preparing for the WORF gala, so she mightn't even have seen today's Prophet.'

Harry felt oddly disappointed, and a little ashamed. He definitely didn't want to upset Fiona, but he was also hurt that he might be beneath her notice. Owen's probably right to keep us apart, he thought sadly. She's twenty-six and a mum, while I'm just a nineteen year-old manwhore.

'Will she still have time to come to the party?' asked Harry, in spite of himself.

'Yes, and she's looking forward to it. She doesn't go out much, other than visiting Jill and me, so your parties are a nice change of pace.'

'I'm glad you see it that way,' said Harry. 'I know you don't approve of our friendship, such as it is.'

'Harry, that's not true. Going to your parties and knowing you find her attractive has definitely been good for her. It's made her feel alive again, from what I can tell. I just don't think you'd be a good couple, given the difference in your circumstances.'

'Yeah, I know. And I suppose it's a moot point, since I'm with Sophie.'

'You certainly are. And I'm glad you've found someone who enjoys shocking the public as much as you do, because that's definitely not Fiona's style.'

'Are you saying she wouldn't go on the radio with me?' joked Harry.

'Not a chance! She's a very private person, and being in the spotlight would be her worst nightmare.'

'Sounds like Helena,' said Harry, mostly to himself. 'Yeah, maybe I am better off with Sophie.'

Gemma also commented on Sophie that morning, during their flying drills. 'You'd better not let her make off with my tiara, Toffer.'

'Of course not!' he said, not admitting he'd had her try it on. 'In fact, that was the mysterious parcel I fetched from Gringotts.'

'Someday I need to see that crazy vault of yours. Mine's about as interesting as a Muggle safe deposit box.'

'Not bloody likely. You'd taunt me until the end of time if I let you see it.'

'I'll taunt you until the end of time regardless,' she argued. 'So we might as well have a laugh down there together.'

'Nice try, but no.'

'You say that, but mark my words, I'll wear you down. And sooner is better, since it'll probably have ten times as much gold in it before long.'

'No, it won't—you're forgetting all the dowries I need to fund. The Whites in particular have a surprising number of daughters.'

'Maybe, but they're probably saving one of them for you as a twenty-first birthday present. You'll find her on your doorstep with a ribbon around her. By the way, you'd better have a girlfriend by then, or else it'll be open season.'

'I don't even want to think about that,' said Harry, still flying in formation. 'Those countdown parties were bad enough. Did you go to one?'

'Yeah, with Caroline and Tyler. I think he was hoping for an orgy, but it was too early in the evening for anyone to be sufficiently plastered. People paired up anyway, but it was mainly just kissing and some awkward hugs.'

'Oh? What about you? Did you meet anyone?'

She looked embarrassed. 'Not really. Some bloke tried chatting me up, and he knew his Quidditch all right. But he wasn't really my type—a bit too beefy.'

'Are you saying I shouldn't introduce you to my cousin Dudley?'

'Please don't tell me he's coming to the party,' she said, horrified.

'No, but I should reach out to him one of these days. He wants to go flying, believe it or not.'

'Then maybe now's the time,' said Janet, swooping past. 'Invite him to a match, introduce him to your supermodel girlfriend.'

'She's not a supermodel! At least I don't think she is. What's the difference between a supermodel and a regular model?'

'Focus, Toffer!' said Gemma, bumping into him with her broom. 'We're supposed to be flying, remember.'

'Right, sorry,' he said, accelerating into the next drill.

He was tempted not to shower before lunch, in preparation for his meeting with Lockhart, but his pride wouldn't allow it. Ron was nevertheless amused when they met several minutes early in front of the Hog's Head.

'Didn't you have a clean pair of trousers?' asked Ron, who was wearing Auror robes.

'These were clean until a few minutes ago, but I decided dirty would be better. I almost asked Kreacher to soil them for me, but I realised that could go horribly wrong, so I crawled about the broomshed instead.'

'Nice. And where did you get that jacket?'

'Team surplus. Apparently the charms went amiss, and the colour came out too bright.'

'That'll look great in photographs. Do you know if a photographer is coming?'

'Yes, one of the photographers last night told me Lockhart tipped him off. He'll turn up at one o'clock.'

'Do you reckon you'll sneak out of the frame, like that time in Flourish and Blotts?'

'No, I'll stay. He's not winning Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award without a fight.'

Ron waved his hand dismissively. 'Don't worry, mate, you've got it wrapped up. Lockhart's ancient.'

'Actually, it turns out he's not. I said the same thing to Hermione, but she said he was only twenty-eight when he taught at Hogwarts, and he's thirty-five now.'

'Really, is that all? Weird.' After a pause, he added, 'Did you ask whether she thought a twenty-eight year-old wasn't a bit old for her when she was twelve?'

'I did, and she reminded me that her birthday's in September, which meant she was thirteen.'

Ron made a face. 'Promise me you won't start dating inappropriately younger witches when the time comes. Although if you go young enough, she won't have grown up with Boy-Who-Lived fantasies.'

'Ew ... can we change the topic?' Harry pulled out his pocket watch. 'Where is he anyway?'

'Probably charming his teeth. Nice Prophet article, by the way. And Sophie definitely lives up to expectations, which is good timing. If Lockhart doesn't bring her up, I will.'

They heard a loud crack of Apparition, and Lockhart stood ten yards away. 'Harry!' he cried, waving.

'Apparently I'm invisible,' muttered Ron. 'Classic.'

'Er, Lockhart,' said Harry, walking towards him.

Lockhart frowned when he saw Harry's outfit. 'No robes? I was hoping to see a bit of the famous Potter style.'

'Sorry, this is my lunch break, so I just threw something on. But that's a nice outfit you're wearing.'

Lockhart wore fitted robes made from lilac crushed velvet, with an embroidered waistcoat and silk cravat. Suede boots pointed out from his trouser cuffs, and Harry wondered whether they were charmed to add height.

'Thank you, Harry,' said Lockhart, who still hadn't acknowledged Ron. 'That means a lot coming from you. And thanks also for agreeing to see me—I know how busy you are.'

'Yes, and so is Ron,' said Harry pointedly. 'I'm sure you remember Ron Weasley.'

'Not as well as you might think, alas. I'm afraid there are still significant gaps in my memory.' He extended a hand to Ron, who hesitated before shaking it. 'Ronald Weasley, it's a pleasure,' said Lockhart.

'Er, yeah,' said Ron, stifling a grimace.

'And Harry,' said Lockhart paternally, extending his arms as if to hug him.

Bloody hell, no! thought Harry, backing away. Realising how rude that was, he extended his hand, which Lockhart shook. 'Er, congratulations on your recovery,' he said.

'Thank you! It was a long journey, and it's still not over. But shall we go inside? I never actually went to this particular pub while I lived here.'

'Then you're in for a treat,' said Ron. 'Come on.'

Harry and Ron entered first and immediately turned around, for the pleasure of seeing Lockhart's reaction. It was hard to see in the comparatively dim light, but he whispered, 'Dear lord!' and glanced regretfully at his clothing.

There were a handful of customers, all of whom looked unsavoury. Harry caught Aberforth's eye, and the grizzled barman nodded minutely. 'Let's find a table,' said Harry.

Lockhart was sniffing the air. 'Is there one near a window?' he asked. 'It's a little close in here.'

'That'll be the goats,' said Ron. 'Aberforth's a fan. But don't worry, they're perfectly clean.'

They found a table by the window, and after Lockhart cast a mostly-futile Cleaning Charm, everyone sat down. Thanks to some under-the-table spellwork by Ron, the window didn't open, but Lockhart's charm had made the glass disconcertingly clear.

'Is that a fingernail?' he asked, indicating a long, yellowish shard sticking out of the table.

Ron took a closer look. 'Looks more werewolf to me. Best not to touch it.'

Lockhart blanched. 'Erm, I hate to be ungrateful, but isn't there somewhere else we could eat? The Three Broomsticks is just down the road.'

'I know,' said Harry with mock sympathy. 'But you of all people should understand why I prefer to keep a low profile in public. I'm sure we'd both be mobbed in the Three Broomsticks.'

Lockhart took the bait. 'Yes, of course,' he said, relaxing. 'It's the price we pay for celebrity. And I trust the food is good, if they've been in business this long.'

'I've only had the bread and cheese,' said Ron, 'but yeah, it was all right.'

Harry said, 'We came here after breaking out of Gringotts, before the Battle of Hogwarts. And yeah, the mead was good too.'

'I heard about your adventures, and how you escaped on the back of a dragon! Forgive me for asking, but did you follow the advice in my book, Marauding With Monsters? I like to think I helped by including that tip about tapping every third ridge on a dragon's neck, to calm him down.'

'No, the dragon barely noticed us,' said Harry. 'And we didn't want him to calm down, since he was helping us escape.'

'Oh, I see,' said Lockhart, disappointed. 'Well done, regardless. Ten points to Gryffindor, ha ha!'

Harry and Ron were both dumbstruck, but fortunately Aberforth came to the rescue. 'What'll it be?' he said gruffly.

'Do you have anything to eat?' asked Ron.

'Stew.'

'Sounds good,' said Ron. 'Stew and a pint of ale.'

'I'll have the same, only half a pint,' said Harry.

'What kind of stew?' asked Lockhart, staring fixedly at Aberforth's dirty fingernails.

'Meat. And some vegetables.'

'Right, yes ... I suppose I'll have some as well. And a glass of mulled wine.'

'Eh?'

'Heavy on the cinnamon, light on the cloves,' said Lockhart.

Aberforth glanced at Harry, who nodded.

'And some of that bread and cheese,' added Ron. 'If you have any.'

A grunt from Aberforth, and he was gone. 'Well then, that's taken care of,' said Harry. 'Lockhart, you had a reason for wanting to see us today.'

'Please, Harry, call me Gilderoy. And yes, I most certainly did.' Lockhart's expression instantly changed from jovial to sombre. 'My dear Harry—and Ron,' he began. 'Although I don't recall the details, I'm told that on the night of my accident, I betrayed you in your hour of gravest need. I honestly find the story hard to believe, but apparently I threatened to Obliviate you in the Chamber of Secrets and–'

'You didn't threaten us,' scowled Ron. 'You actually cast the spell, using my wand, which you stole. Except the spell didn't work, because my wand was taped together, and it backfired.'

'Yes, of course,' said Lockhart. 'A truly ghastly accident.'

'It wasn't an accident!' snapped Harry. 'The only accident was that you were Obliviated and not us. And you omitted the bit where you left Ginny to die.'

'Right ... Miss Weasley. That too was tragic, but I understand she made a full recovery.'

'She was a mess!' cried Harry. 'I mean yeah, physically she was fine, but she still has nightmares about what happened, no thanks to you.'

Lockhart lifted his hand as if to calm Harry down. 'I know you're upset, and so was I when I learnt what happened. But Cassia Dexter taught me that forgiveness starts with acceptance.'

'Forgiveness!' exclaimed Harry. 'You haven't bloody apologised!'

'You're right,' said Lockhart calmly. 'Let's start over. Harry, Ron, can you forgive me for my betrayal?'

Harry stared in fury, but just as Ron began to speak, Aberforth forcefully Hovered three glasses onto the table, causing the contents to slosh over the rims. Lockhart, in a panic, used his wand to prevent mulled wine from spilling onto his robes.

'I had to dig around for the spices,' said Aberforth. 'But I think I found them all. Wasn't sure, though, since a few of the labels came off, and I don't have the best sense of smell.'

Lockhart looked nervously at his cup of fiercely steaming wine. 'Er, maybe I should let it cool down before drinking. No need to wait.'

'Here, I know a charm,' said Ron, raising his wand. 'Calidus,' he said, and the steam over the mug thinned to just the right amount. 'That looks good—have a go.'

Aberforth stood there waiting, and Harry and Ron looked expectantly at Lockhart. 'Yes, of course,' he said, lifting the glass. He sniffed it, and his eyes widened in alarm.

'Is something wrong?' said Aberforth menacingly.

'What spices did you use exactly?'

'A bit of this and that. Can't say as I've ever had mulled wine before.'

Lockhart's eyes darted around, reminding Harry of Wormtail. Meanwhile, Ron took a long draught of ale, with clear satisfaction. Aberforth continued to stare until Lockhart broke down and took a sip.

He started coughing, and his eyes began to tear. 'Quick, he needs water!' said Harry, and he Summoned a glass from the bar and filled it. Lockhart grabbed the glass and nearly drained it, still coughing and rubbing his eyes.

'Just what I thought,' said Aberforth. 'Musta been cayenne instead of cinnamon.'

Lockhart was still gasping, and he motioned to Harry for more water before noticing just how filthy the glass was. It was mostly empty, but the remaining water had a layer of scum floating on top. 'Oh dear,' said Harry. 'I must have Summoned a dirty glass—I'm so sorry. Aberforth, can you grab a clean one?'

The barman Summoned a glass from above the counter, but it wasn't much better than the first one. 'Aguamenti,' said Harry, and the glass filled with mostly clear water.

Lockhart, whose eyes were still streaming, pulled a hair from the glass before drinking. 'Cayenne?' he gasped. 'How could you mix them up?'

'They're the same colour,' said Aberforth. 'And like I said, I don't have much sense of smell.'

'That explains a lot,' muttered Lockhart. 'Can I just have some Firewhisky?'

Aberforth grunted and returned to the bar. 'Where were we?' said Ron. 'Oh right, you just asked us to forgive you. Harry, do you know if that's the same as apologising?'

'I honestly don't know. Do you think that was something they taught in seventh year?' asked Harry, kicking Ron under the table.

'Good question. I wonder if Ginny would know,' he said loudly.

From around the corner, Ginny appeared, along with Wendy. 'Ron, Harry! What are you doing here?'

'We're having lunch with Lockhart. Why are you here?'

'Wendy and I like getting lunch on our own sometimes, and no one makes a better stew than Aberforth.'

'Miss Weasley,' said Lockhart, 'what a remarkable coincidence. I was just apologising to Harry and Ron.'

'Pull up a chair,' Harry told them. 'You should get in on this.'

They sat down, and Ron said, 'So about that apology.'

'Right,' said Lockhart, mostly recovered from the spiced wine. 'I apologise for how I behaved during my tenure as Defence professor. I recklessly endangered all of you and maliciously attempted to Obliviate Harry and Ron. I'm very sorry.'

Harry relaxed. 'That wasn't bad. You at least used the words this time. Ron, Ginny, what do you think?'

'I've heard worse,' said Ginny. 'From both of you, actually.'

'Oi!' said Harry and Ron simultaneously.

'Come off it, Ron. You're an expert in the non-apology, particularly when Mum forces you to do it. And Harry, your favourite way to apologise was to give me that "pitiful orphan" look and start groping me.'

Harry realised he couldn't argue. 'In my defence, it worked,' he told Wendy.

'I know,' she said. 'I have my own version.'

Aberforth returned with a tumbler of whisky, which Lockhart promptly drained. 'Ugh, I should have ordered this in the first place,' he said. 'So, am I forgiven?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'How much do you actually remember?'

'I remember teaching. Not all of it, but some. You I remember well,' he told Harry. 'But you two are a blur. And weren't there a few more of you running around?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'The twins and our brother Percy.'

'Right, him. He kept asking for extra credit. I made him grade essays.'

'Why did you even take the job?' asked Ron. 'You had a good thing going with your books, and surely Hogwarts wasn't the best place to get your wand polished.'

'Oh yes it was,' said Lockhart. 'Not with students, necessarily, although there were a few of those. Of age, naturally. But the real treasure trove was Muggles.'

'Muggles!' exclaimed Harry. 'At Hogwarts?'

'You're forgetting what my specialty was,' he said, tapping his temple. 'Memory Charms. I'd go to a Muggle pub or discotheque, slip into a private booth with some tasty Muggle, show her a bit of magic. Then I'd swear her to secrecy and take her to Hogwarts. There was a room on the seventh floor you wouldn't even believe—I could turn it into anything. Found it as a student, jumped at the chance to get back. Anyway, she and I would have a grand old time in there, and then I'd tidy things up with a Memory Charm and drop her off at home. She'd remember a night with a dashing stranger, but nothing else.'

'Why are you telling us this?' said Harry. 'Ron's an Auror, you know.'

'The DMLE already knows,' said Lockhart. 'And you're all adults now. Harry, you of all people should appreciate the thrill of the chase. Pulling witches when you're famous is far too easy.'

Harry couldn't help nodding. 'Wizarding Britain needs more celebrities.'

'Too right. Honestly, I was looking forward to you growing up, assuming you lived, of course. A little healthy competition.'

Aberforth brought everyone stew, bread, and cheese. 'Will you be needing drinks?' he asked the two witches.

'No, we have to go back to practice,' said Ginny. 'But thanks for letting us hide earlier.'

He grunted. 'And you—another whisky?' he asked, indicating Lockhart's empty glass.

'Yeah, why not. I've nothing else scheduled.'

'What are you doing with yourself these days?' asked Ron.

'Writing a memoir. Which is a bit tricky, since I can't remember much. But Rita's helping me fill in the blanks.'

'You're working with Rita?' exclaimed Harry.

'Yes, and thanks, by the way. She kept putting me off until you turned down her pitch.'

'Are you planning to describe your stint at Hogwarts?' asked Ginny.

'Definitely. Rita says it's important to have a low point. Narrative arc, or something.'

Ron narrowed his eyes. 'You're not going to take credit for killing the Basilisk, are you?'

'No. First off, I'd never get away with it—everyone knows the real story, and my reputation is shot. But even if I could get away with it, I wouldn't want to. That's Old Gilderoy, not me.'

'So you don't feel like the same person?' asked Wendy.

'Yes and no. That stuff I was describing with the Muggles? I'd do that again in a heartbeat, if I could still perform Memory Charms. But I had to take a blood oath, and I'm required to renew it annually—it's one of the conditions of my release. But taking credit for stuff I didn't do? Not interested.'

'So what do you want?' asked Harry.

'I want what you have: fame and fortune. I had it and I blew it.'

'Will one memoir be enough to get it back?'

'No, that's just the start,' said Lockhart. 'I need a whole new persona. The radio's not a bad idea, as you well know, but I'm not sold on it. Honestly, I wish wizards had television, because I'd be perfect for it. This isn't a face for radio, after all.'

'And what would your persona be exactly?' asked Ginny.

'Self-help. I've actually learnt a lot from Cassia about forgiving oneself, and I think other people would benefit. Now in particular, since there are so many people who collaborated during the war.'

Ron looked appalled, and Harry felt the same way. 'So you want to help people pat themselves on the back for abetting blood purists?' stammered Ron.

'That's not how I'd phrase it, but yes. We can't progress as individuals if we're constantly beating ourselves up. Or worse yet, if we pretend we never did anything wrong in the first place.'

'But what's to stop people from behaving like miserable shits in the future?' asked Ron.

'Honesty,' said Lockhart. 'Emotional honesty.'

'It that what this is?' said Harry. 'You're being weirdly candid.'

'I am, and it is. Again, something I've learnt from Cassia.'

'But what makes you more qualified than she is to teach it?' asked Ginny.

'My bad reputation. Who better than a disgraced fraud to teach self-forgiveness?'

He has a point, thought Harry. 'What do you really want from Ron and me?' he asked suspiciously. 'Are you looking for an endorsement?'

'Oh, you are a Slytherin now! And no, I don't expect an endorsement. Although I wouldn't say no to a photo opportunity ...'

'And?' prompted Ron.

'And a truce. I don't want Harry tearing me to shreds on the radio. I wouldn't blame you if you did, of course, and there's no such thing as bad publicity. But I could do without the Howlers, at least until I can afford a secretary.'

'Right, Mrs Thwip works for the Cannons now,' said Harry.

Ron shook his head. 'Harry's being modest—she works for him.'

'So I heard! Good old Mrs Thwip ... face like a blunt instrument, but swift as lightning. She sacked me, you know.'

'Yes, she mentioned it. But I don't know the details.'

'Let's just say she doesn't appreciate dealings with witches that are "less than candid."'

'How did she find out? Did they owl you?'

'Yes, that was my second mistake. You'll have to be more careful than I was if you want to keep her around.'

'I'd prefer just to be candid with witches, thank you very much.'

Lockhart chuckled knowingly. 'You're nineteen, Harry. And rather energetic, it seems. You're bound to screw up somewhere.'

Recalling how he'd cheated on Lydia, Harry nodded. 'I have done, but I was truthful about it.'

'Well done! Is that a Light magic thing? I've been looking into that, you know.'

'You want to learn Light magic?'

'Everyone's talking about it. And just imagine me glowing—I'd pack lecture halls for sure!'

Harry was sceptical Lockhart would succeed at Light magic with that attitude. 'No offence, but what about the part where you were a completely useless professor? You're proposing to teach, but we never learnt a thing in your classes.'

'Did I teach Memory Charms?'

'Er, no.'

'Believe me, you'd have learnt them if I had done. I didn't know the first thing about Defence, as you clearly recall, but when I do know a subject, I really know it. I was in Ravenclaw, after all.'

'Then why were you such an idiot?' asked Ron. 'I realise you were pants at Defence, but you couldn't even handle Cornish pixies.'

'What?' exclaimed Wendy. 'You're joking, right?'

'No. He was really that useless,' said Ron. 'So, what gives?'

Lockhart sighed. 'I'd been lying for years, and it was catching up with me. I should never have taken the Hogwarts job, sex chamber be damned. I could fake my way through life as an author, but between the students and the other professors, I couldn't keep up the act. It was frankly exhausting, and my goal was just to get through the day.'

'Until nightfall, when you could go pull Muggles,' said Harry.

'Not always! As you may recall, you had your share of detentions, and someone had to mind you.'

'You made me reply to your fan mail!'

'Actually, he did you a favour there, mate,' said Ron. 'Harry spends hours every week replying to fan mail now,' he told Lockhart.

'Really? You have Mrs Thwip and you still do it yourself?'

'The letters from children,' said Harry. 'And those requiring a personal reply,' he added, thinking of the letters he still received from people who were being abused.

To Harry's horror, Lockhart winked and said, 'I know all about those personal letters. Especially the ones with photographs ... yet another perk of fame.'

'Actually, I never look at those. Mrs Thwip has a form response.'

'Don't rule it out,' said Lockhart. 'Obviously you're doing fine on your own, particularly with that French model. But there's a lot to be said for a woman with initiative.'

Ginny and Wendy didn't even hide their laughter. 'Do you still receive letters like that?' asked Wendy.

'Yes, but nowhere near the same volume as before. That'll change, though, and in the meantime I'm making the most of the situation,' he said, brushing several crumbs off his tailored and very fashionable robes.

'You're a kept man, aren't you!' blurted Ginny.

'I object to the phrase "kept man,"' said Lockhart stiffly. 'I prefer to think of myself as a "wizard of all trades."'

'It is just one witch, or do you have a client list?' she asked excitedly.

'Again, I object to your terminology. But I have several loyal fans who enjoy my time and attention.'

'Did they make you read Sorceress?' asked Wendy, smirking.

'No, but one in particular is fond of fitted robes, as you can see.'

'Harry, are you listening?' said Ginny. 'This is your future.'

'Oi!'

'You laugh, but one never knows what the future holds,' said Lockhart. 'Don't squander your advantages, Harry.'

'He's right,' said Ron ominously. 'You're a Black now, and fucking up royally is a family tradition.'

'I'm not planning to lie for my entire career and Obliviate people!'

'I only lied for the first stage of my career, and that's all behind me,' said Lockhart. 'I'm a changed man.'

Harry eyed him suspiciously. 'Are you? You may believe you are, but I'm not convinced.'

'I don't expect you to believe me, Harry. Nobody should, until I've proven my sincerity.'

'But will you? Honestly, you still seem pretty selfish.'

'I don't deny it,' said Lockhart. 'I want to be rich and famous, and to make up for the years I lost in St Mungo's. I had the odd encounter with an enterprising fan, but otherwise I endured far more celibacy than you just did. That said, I don't need to lie to get what I want—not anymore. And Rita says the public will eat it up and welcome me back with open arms.'

Harry automatically looked at Ginny, who in turn looked at Wendy. 'He's right,' said Wendy. 'He's the prodigal son, and good-looking to boot. Harry might have the younger generation sewn up, but Lockhart will pull in the matrons.'

'See, Harry, there's plenty to go around,' said Lockhart. 'No need to worry.'

'I'm not worried!'

'The real question,' said Ginny mischievously, 'is who Witch Weekly likes better. Harry won Sorceress, of course, and Wandlore is his from start to finish. But Witch Weekly skews older, and they might be feeling left out of Pottermania.'

There was a gleam in Lockhart's eye. 'Harry, can I interest you in a wager?'

'Yes!' cried Ginny. 'Definitely!' Harry began to protest, but she said, 'No, it's perfect. Lockhart never had competition—I don't think they even gave out the Most-Charming-Smile Award the first year he was in St Mungo's. And it's just been random Quidditch players ever since. But this could be a pitched battle.'

'I'm not going to compete over this,' said Harry indignantly.

'So you're a quitter?' said Wendy. 'I'm very disappointed in you right now.'

Harry looked desperately at Ron, who just laughed. 'Admit it, you thought you had it in the bag until Lockhart turned up again.'

'Fine, I'll take the wager,' scowled Harry. 'Honour bet?'

Lockhart raised his eyebrows. 'Good question. I can't say I have a lot of Galleons lying around, although I'd be delighted to relieve you of some. And I suspect there's nothing you want from me. So yes, honour bet,' he said, extending his hand.

Harry grudgingly shook it, and Wendy bounced with excitement. 'Ginny, you have enriched my life in so many ways. But witnessing this is the coolest.'

'Hang on, did we actually forgive Lockhart?' asked Ron. 'I don't think we did.'

'I didn't,' said Harry. 'All I said was that it wasn't a totally crap apology.'

'But what do you say now?' asked Lockhart. 'I think you know I'm sincere.'

Harry glanced at Ron and Ginny. 'I can only speak for myself, but frankly, I'm torn. I think new Lockhart is sincere, more or less. But I can't forget old Lockhart, who was a lying bastard.'

'I agree,' said Ron. 'What about you, Gin?'

'Honestly, I barely remember old Lockhart. That year was all Tom Riddle.'

'Lockhart, is it enough to say I accept your apology?' asked Harry.

'Yes, absolutely! Cassia says forgiveness doesn't happen overnight, so I'm delighted that you accept my apology. And I hope, in time, that I can truly earn your forgiveness.'

'Er, we'll see,' said Harry, not thrilled with the idea of an ongoing relationship.

Ron also accepted Lockhart's apology, but Ginny waved it off. 'Frankly, it's our mum you need to apologise to,' she told Lockhart. 'You endangered two of her kids, and that brings out her scary side.'

'Nah, just beg for her forgiveness in your memoir and send her an autographed copy,' said Wendy. 'She'll fall for it.'

'Blimey, you're right,' said Ron, and he waved Aberforth over for the bill. 'You're paying, right, Lockhart?'

'That depends on how much pocket money his sugar mummy gave him this morning,' said Ginny.

Harry rolled his eyes and placed several Galleons on the table. 'He's been a good sport. Ron, can you cancel the charm on the window?'

'That was on purpose!' exclaimed Lockhart, when Ron opened the window.

'Of course it was,' said Ron. 'You tried to Obliviate us and nearly got Ginny killed. We arranged this with Aberforth in advance.'

'So it doesn't usually smell like goats?'

'No, it does. And that probably is a werewolf fingernail in the table—I should bring in someone to remove it.'

'What about the cayenne pepper?'

'Also real,' said Ron. 'What kind of git orders mulled wine at the Hog's Head?'

Harry peered through the window. 'It looks like the photographer is here. Ginny, do you want in?'

'Merlin, no! I may not get to wear the Black family jewels, but the good news is I'm not in your blinding spotlight anymore.'

'Ron, what about you?'

'Yeah, why not. But I won't pose.'

'Me neither,' said Harry. 'Lockhart, tell him just to photograph us leaving the pub.'

Lockhart, who was still breathing long gulps from the open window, gave the photographer instructions, and Harry removed his bright orange jacket.

'Nice,' said Ginny, admiring his Breton shirt. 'And do that crooked half-smile thing—you'll never out-tooth him.'

As they rose from the table, Lockhart said, 'Harry, thank you. It says a lot about a person, how they behave when they're on top.'

'He's pretty good on the bottom too,' said Ginny.

'Oi!' cried Ron.

'Forgive me for asking,' said Lockhart, 'but could I perhaps attend your party on Saturday? It's all right to say no.'

'No,' said Harry. 'Oops, was that too abrupt?'

'Understood,' said Lockhart. 'I knew it was a long shot.'

As they left the restaurant, Harry cracked a half-smile and did everything but glow. There's no way Lockhart will win, he thought.

After practice that afternoon he returned to Grimmauld Place, but Sophie was nowhere to be found. 'Lodie,' he called.

Pop! 'Yes, Master!'

'Do you know where Sophie is?'

'Yes, Master. Master's witch is with the birds.'

It took Harry a moment to parse that. 'Do you mean she's in the owlery?'

'Yes, Master. With the birds.'

He went upstairs to the owlery and found Sophie sitting cross-legged on a cushion, talking on her phone. Lysander was asleep in an alcove, and the two jackdaws were looking curiously at Sophie's open diary as she scrawled notes.

'Yes, definitely,' she said. 'Will you arrange it or should I? Perfect, yes. I'll be out of range tonight, but just leave me a message. Merci, au revoir.'

'Hi,' began Harry, but she immediately leapt to her feet and embraced him.

'You are back! Does this mean we have time to go out before your broadcast?'

'Do you want to go out? I assumed you'd rather eat something Lodie prepared.'

'Only if you want to. But you said something about fish and chips?'

Harry frowned. 'What's going on? You can't possibly want to eat fish and chips.'

She looked embarrassed and said, 'No ... but I have news you will not like. I need to leave tomorrow.'

'So soon!' he exclaimed. 'Where are you going, and when will you be back?'

She explained that Virginia wanted her in New York, to pose with Marina for the lingerie catalogue. 'But after New York I go to Los Angeles, and then to Japan.'

Harry's shoulders slumped. 'You'll be away this weekend, won't you?'

'Yes, unfortunately. I'm sorry, mon cher, but this is normal in wizard fashion. Everyone wants photos right away.'

'Of course they do,' he said tenderly, stroking her cheek. 'Do you know when you'll be back?'

'Some time next week. And my agent said a British magazine wants to interview me. Witch Weekly?'

Harry couldn't help smirking. 'There's hope for me yet,' he said, and he explained his wager with Lockhart.

'You have a very charming smile,' she told him. 'I am sure you will win.'

'But Lockhart has perfect teeth, and wavy blond hair. Before his accident he won it five times in a row, and unlike me, he's not overexposed. They might pick him just to be contrary.'

'But I pick you,' she said, leading him back into the house.

They ate dinner at home, in spite of Sophie's protests that it was too early, then changed for the broadcast and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. 'She's taller than you are!' exclaimed a witch when they emerged from the fireplace.

'Of course she is,' said Harry. 'She's a model and I'm a Seeker.'

'But she didn't need to wear high heels. What are those, three inches?'

'Ten centimetres,' said Sophie. 'But I am not with Harry for his height.'

'No, you're with him for your career,' muttered another witch. 'And that jewellery.'

'That's not true,' snapped Harry. 'I did not give her jewellery from my vault, or anywhere else for that matter. And we're together because we like each other.'

'Sophie, love—will you be on the radio tonight?' asked a wizard.

'Yes. I hope I do not make mistakes with my English.'

'With that accent, no one will mind,' leered the wizard, looking her up and down. 'And ignore anyone who calls you a gold-digger—they're just jealous. Potter, well done!'

'Er, yeah,' said Harry awkwardly. 'Sophie, it's this way,' he added, taking her hand and leading her out the back.

He led her through the brick wall and they walked hand in hand to the joke shop. Several wizards whistled as Sophie passed, and another called, 'Ooh-la-la, cherie!'

Harry couldn't hide his contempt. 'Do you enjoy that?' he asked her quietly.

'No, but this is normal in France. Although not when I am with a man.'

'Welcome to England,' he scowled. 'And sorry.'

When they arrived at the shop, George was there to usher them inside. 'Sophie, welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and thanks for appearing on the air. You're the first of Harry's girlfriends who's been brave enough.'

'Yes, and I am starting to wonder if it is a good idea.'

'Of course it is,' said Harry. 'People will hear you and realise you're not just a bimbo.'

Sophie's entrance drew appreciative hoots, and Harry admired her courage as she strode to the broadcast booth. He also noticed glares from some of the witches in the audience, and scornful whispers as she passed.

'Are you all right?' he asked when they reached the booth.

'The English never like the French,' she said. 'And other women do not like me sometimes.'

'Fortunately we're both men,' said Lee, and he introduced himself. 'Has Harry told you what to expect tonight?'

'No, but it is not necessary. I listen in France when I can.'

'Then you know we take the piss out of Harry nonstop. But don't worry, we'll treat you with respect, although I can't vouch for Walburga.'

They chatted in the booth until Lee held up his fingers to count down. Activating the broadcast, he said, 'Good evening, listeners, and welcome to another thrilling episode of Weasley's Wizard Wireless. I'm Lee Jordan, and with me is my partner in crime, George Weasley.'

'Thank you, Lee!' said George. 'And we have not one but two special guests tonight. When we saw this morning's Prophet, we wondered if they'd even turn up, or if they were already in Tahiti for their honeymoon. But then we read the article and learnt they were just having us on. So please, give a warm Weasley's welcome to a pair of lying bastards, Harry Potter-Black and Sophie Tavernier.'

Frowning, Harry said, 'Not five minutes ago Lee promised Sophie you'd treat her with respect, and yet you start the show by calling her a lying bastard?'

'That wasn't disrespect,' said George. 'That was a clear statement of fact. The two of you were photographed last night dressed for your wedding, and the Prophet gave us all a heart attack.'

'I'm sorry, but you can't blame us for what the Prophet did. We were at Penumbra, which is about as far from a church as you can get, and no one there thought for a second we were actually married.'

'He's right, mate,' said Lee. 'You owe Sophie an apology.'

'Fine,' said George. 'Sophie, I'm sorry I called you a lying bastard.'

'Thank you,' she said. 'But why do you not apologise to Harry?'

'Because he's dating a French model and deserves all the abuse we can heap on him, accurate or not.'

'Brilliant,' said Harry. 'This is going to be one of those kinds of broadcasts.'

'Those kinds of broadcasts?' asked Lee. 'Would you care to elaborate?'

'You know what I'm talking about. The kind where you slag the living daylights out of me the entire time.'

George held a hand to his chest. 'Moi?' he said, blinking innocently. 'That was French, by the way, in honour of Sophie, who is not a lying bastard.'

'We seem to be getting off on the wrong foot,' said Lee. 'Harry, perhaps you can lighten the mood with a flick of the old Patronus.'

'Oh right—you wouldn't want to call an impostor a lying bastard. Where should I send him?'

'Azkaban, no question. We got heaps more letters, including from the guards.'

Harry paused to collect himself. He was in an unusually foul mood, probably because of how strangers were treating Sophie. But her smile lifted his spirits, and he cast a powerful Patronus. 'Merlin, I needed that,' he sighed. 'Everyone needs to learn this charm.'

'Well now!' exclaimed Lee. 'You look a lot more cheerful than you did just a minute ago!'

'I am,' he said, taking Sophie's hand. She was beaming at Prongs, and he said, 'Go to Azkaban. And thank you, Prongs.'

The stag flew off, and George said, 'Now this is the Harry we like to see! Within moments he went from being Severus Snape, junior, to a borderline-glowing, lovesick git.'

'I'm not lovesick,' said Harry. 'Sophie and I are taking things slowly.'

'Hang on, does that mean we need to put the celibacy timer back up?'

'Not that slowly. But we're just dating, and she's leaving for New York tomorrow.'

'Say it isn't so!' cried George. 'Does this mean you won't be at Harry's massive festival of sin this weekend?'

'No,' said Sophie. 'He will have to find someone else to keep him company.'

'This just in,' announced Lee. 'Harry is not yet spoken for on Saturday night. So if you're longing to visit Walburga's wonderland, this might be your chance.'

'Lee, you've gone too far,' said Harry. 'Sophie'll be back next week, and I'm sure I can go a few nights without jumping into bed with someone else.'

'Impossible!' blurted Sophie in French, causing Lee, George, and the entire audience to laugh uproariously.

'Excuse me, I just went two solid weeks!'

'You had a vow, mon cher,' she said. 'And I will not force you to take a vow when I leave tomorrow.'

George looked at her admiringly. 'You really aren't English, are you.'

'No, I am not,' she laughed. 'And Harry, I will be very disappointed if you do not at least kiss someone at your party.'

'Ladies, do you hear that?' said Lee. 'She's giving him permission. And Harry, you should see the look on your face. I realise you're a master Occlumens, but I can see the wheels turning as we speak.'

Harry was, in fact, imagining who he might snog at the party. This might be my chance with Fiona, he mused. Or Lisa Black, came the thought.

George snapped a finger to get his attention. 'Listeners, Lee is right. Harry will definitely be open for business this Saturday. The only question is whether the ladies will still fancy him when he's all dolled up. More than usual, that is.'

'Oi!' cried Harry. 'I'm not dolled up!'

'Not this time, I grant you. Tonight he's wearing a smart Muggle outfit, as opposed to his usual silks and velvets.'

'That is unjust,' said Sophie. 'In France they think it is the English who dress badly, and that Harry is exceptional. I have seen his wardrobe and there is no velvet.'

'That was only his summer wardrobe,' said Lee. 'I'm pretty sure his winter wardrobe is in storage at the manor house.'

'I don't have a manor house! One of the Blacks gambled it away a hundred or so years ago. Oh bugger, I wasn't going to slag the Blacks on the radio.'

'Excuse me, slagging the Blacks is a broadcast tradition,' said George. 'Or have you forgotten Walburga?'

'I could never forget Walburga,' said Harry. 'Sophie, do you want to meet her?'

'Yes, this is a part of why I come here tonight.'

'Harry, allow me to congratulate you on your non-marriage to this truly amazing witch,' said Lee. 'And speaking of your non-marriage, may I show Walburga the front page of today's Prophet? She been looking a little peaky lately, and I think your wedding picture might put some colour in her cheeks.'

'Purple, you mean?' asked Harry.

'Exactly. Are you game?'

'If Sophie doesn't mind.' She nodded, and Harry said, 'Yeah, go ahead.'

'And will you play along with it?' continued Lee. 'Let her believe you actually tied the knot?'

Harry frowned. 'No, I don't like lying.'

'Oh, come on,' said George. 'Walburga's not even sentient, so it wouldn't count.'

Lee announced, 'Audience members, raise your hand if you want Harry to tell Walburga he married Sophie.' Every hand in the room went up. 'Sorry, Harry. You have to do it. Weasley's honour.'

'Ugh, fine,' said Harry. 'But you aren't allowed to accuse me of lying in the future, citing this as evidence.'

'Agreed,' said George, handing Harry the newspaper. 'Go on, tell Walburga the good news.'

Harry tapped the portrait with his wand and said, 'Excuse me, Walburga. I have an announcement.'

She opened her eyes and scowled at him. 'You again. What now?'

'I want you to meet Sophie Tavernier,' he said, presenting her.

'Ahem, Sophie Potter-Black,' said Lee. 'Your new adopted granddaughter-in-law. Or something.'

'You're married?' exclaimed Walburga. 'I don't believe it! You're an incurable reprobate.'

'No, it's true,' said Harry, holding up the newspaper. 'She snagged me fair and square.'

Walburga squinted at the Prophet, and her eyes shot open in horror. 'Great Salazar, you married a fille de joie!'

Sophie bit her lips to keep from laughing, and Harry said, 'That's right. When I met her at the brothel on Sunday, she was so beautiful that I offered to pay for the whole night.'

Playing up her French accent, Sophie said, 'But he is so handsome, and I say, "No, mon joli Anglais. I only charge you for half the night."'

'And that's when I knew she was the one,' said Harry, sighing affectionately. 'After a night of sweet exhaustion, I got down on one knee and proposed, and unbelievably she said yes. I know I should have waited a proper interval before marrying her, but she couldn't wait and insisted we marry at once. She's so romantic!'

'You fool!' cried Walburga. 'She entrapped you, and now the Blacks are ruined forever!'

'Nonsense! I took her to the family vault just this morning, and she looked beautiful in all your old jewellery. The only reason she's not wearing any right now is that we gave it to her brother in France for safekeeping.' He turned to Sophie and said, 'Although you don't look much alike, I must say.'

'You are not the first man to say that, mon ange. But do not worry, it is only you I love.' She began caressing him, and he guided her head down to his lap.

Livid, Walburga shrieked inarticulately, and George said, 'Relax, Walburga. Harry's having you on. They're not married, and he didn't give away the family jewels. He's just the same old manwhore as always.'

Harry moaned theatrically, and Sophie, still bent over, was helpless with laughter. Walburga shouted profanities, prompting Lee to silence her with his wand. 'We might have to pay a fine for that one, mate, but it was worth it,' he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

Sophie sat up again, and Harry said, 'You should consider an acting career, ma chère.'

'Harry, you too,' exclaimed George. 'It's a good thing you don't normally lie, because you were shockingly good at it.'

'I was, wasn't I?' said Harry. 'That was a bit disturbing, to be honest.'

'You're just full of surprises,' said Lee. 'And we've barely mentioned a recent one: your formerly top-secret drag party. Did you ever find out who spilled the beans?'

'I did. And she's definitely paying the price.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said George, 'because we at Weasley's Wizard Wireless would like to thank that unnamed blabbermouth for freeing the rest of us from your contract. Lee and I seriously considered making the sacrifice, and she saved us the trouble.'

Harry was appalled. 'Would you really have betrayed me like that?'

'No, that's why we didn't do it. But I hope you're not upset the truth came out, because it's much more fun now that everyone knows.'

'I'll admit, she saved me the trouble of going to a Muggle charity shop for a dress—I was able to go to my tailor instead. But now I've been flooded with requests for invitations, and I don't have room for everyone.'

'Not even in that bed of yours?' asked Lee.

'Very funny, no. I at least have a secretary who can apologise on my behalf, but I feel like an arsehole turning people away.'

'Here's a question for our in-store audience,' said Lee. 'How many of you are attending Harry's party?'

A few hands went up.

'And how many of you wish you were?'

Nearly every hand rose.

'Right. Keep your hand up if you think Harry's an arsehole for not throwing open his doors and inviting everyone.'

Every hand went down.

Lee turned to Harry and said, 'See, they understand. And so will most of the people who wrote to you demanding invitations.'

'Here's another question for the audience,' said George. 'Raise your hand if you think Harry's a big fat killjoy for not allowing photographs.'

Every hand went up again.

'God no!' cried Harry. 'It's bad enough the Prophet will run Pensieve drawings, but photographs?'

'Sorry, Harry, but the world demands them.'

'You don't realise what you're asking. It's one thing to have my photo taken in drag, but quite another to have photographers following me all night in my own home.'

George inhaled sharply. 'That is a good point. You deserve to chat up witches observed only by four hundred of your closest friends, and not all wizarding Britain. But couldn't you allow a few photographers at the start, and then kick them out once they've documented how fabulous everyone looks?'

'I can't possibly. It wouldn't be fair to my guests. I'm sorry, but the answer is no.'

George pressed the delay rune. 'Sorry, mate, I shouldn't have pushed you like that.'

'No, you shouldn't have,' scowled Harry. 'And now I look like a dick.'

'Would you be willing to give out a few more invitations?' asked Lee. 'We have a charm to randomly select individuals in a crowd.'

'That's fine,' he said, nodding. 'Pick four people, and they can each bring a guest. Just send me their names.'

Lee reactivated the broadcast. 'I apologise to our in-store audience for the silence just now—Harry was just berating us for making him look like a dick. Which he isn't, so we fully deserved it. Furthermore, he's proving what a non-dick he is by allowing us to invite four lucky audience members to his party, along with a guest!'

The crowd erupted into wild applause, and Lee said, 'Our shop assistant Karenna will select the winners, allowing George and me to continue provoking Harry.'

'Brilliant,' said Harry. 'I was afraid I'd get thirty seconds respite.'

George shook his head. 'Not a chance, we still have more questions. Such as, why the drag theme? Wasn't your reputation bad enough?'

'It was my teammates' idea. I resisted it for weeks, but everyone demanded I do it.'

'Yes, because you abhor scandal,' said Lee. 'Between publicly groping those two witches, announcing your celibacy vow, and faux-marrying your current girlfriend, you're truly the retiring type. And of course you'd never dream of going on the radio.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Fine, I thought drag would be fun. And my Light magic teacher said it would benefit my practice.'

George sat up excitedly. 'Does this mean you're going to start cross-dressing routinely? Please say yes.'

'Mate, he already does,' said Lee. 'Not tonight, but the rest of the time, with his flowers and the rest. Am I right?'

'That's what Davina says. It's about balancing energies, or something.'

'So your decadent drag party is yet another step on your journey into the Light Arts?' asked Lee.

Harry nodded, and George cried, 'Damn you, Potter! You get away with everything nowadays!'

'What? Are you upset?'

'It completely defies logic! The old Harry got in trouble for everything, especially when it was heroic and virtuous. But new Harry could start Imperiusing Muggles to carry him around on a litter, and you'd be praised for ... I don't know ... providing gainful employment.'

'What are you on about? I get criticised right and left.'

'Harry is right,' said Sophie. 'Just today they paint him as the naive victim of an evil Frenchwoman.'

'They most certainly did,' said Lee. 'We got a glimpse of it during your chat with Walburga, but questions remain about your relationship. For example, who made the first move?'

Harry and Sophie looked at each other, and he said, 'I was definitely thinking about it, but technically it was Sophie. That first afternoon in Paris, when you invited me to stay at your flat.'

'Pure evil!' cried George. 'Sophie, did you cast your Imperius then and there, or did you wait until evening?'

'No, it was definitely still light out,' said Harry, smiling as he recalled their first time.

'My point exactly! The Harry I know would never jump straight into bed with a woman. Oh, wait a moment ...'

'George, you're forgetting the part where he returned to England and didn't see her for several months,' said Lee. 'That doesn't sound like a particularly diabolical plan.'

'Au contraire! She was playing the long game,' said George. 'Either that, or she didn't know how rich he was until her mates told her.'

'No, I already knew,' said Sophie.

'Oi!' cried Harry. 'My assets were exaggerated!'

'In Sophie's defence,' said Lee, 'I suspect she has plenty of rich men chasing her. And unlike Harry, they're probably old.'

Lee, George, and Harry all looked at her. 'It is true,' she said. 'But they do not interest me.'

'Don't be so hasty, my dear,' said George. 'Let me be the first to suggest you become a serial widow. Not with Harry, of course—he can just be your illicit lover. But you were born to have a string of rich dead husbands.'

'You do not know me very well,' said Sophie, laughing. 'I much prefer la vie de bohème.'

'What does that mean?' asked Harry.

'It is the life of an artist. Typically in a cold apartment, under the roofs. We prepare our own food, fresh from the market, and drink wine late at night with our friends. I lived this way with my old boyfriend, and it is very romantic.'

'Then you must hate Harry's townhouse,' said George. 'And his house-elf won't let him anywhere near the cooker.'

Harry's face fell, and Sophie said, 'No, it is not where I choose to live, but I enjoy staying there right now. And Harry, he is also very romantic.'

'And he's still accepting applications for Saturday night,' said Lee. 'Do you know what he's planning to wear to the party?'

'Yes, and it will be très sexy. He will not miss me.'

'I beg your pardon!' exclaimed Harry. 'I'll definitely miss you.'

'Because there's plenty of room in that bed of his,' said George.

'Sophie, I think we've been here long enough,' said Harry, standing. 'Thanks, guys—see you next week. And at the party, of course.'

Lee and George looked startled, but Lee quickly recovered and said, 'I'm glad we haven't scared you off forever. You've been a good sport, as always. And Sophie, you're a gem.'

'Merci, à bientôt.'

George slipped out of the booth with them and whispered, 'No hard feelings, right?'

'No, it's fine,' said Harry. 'I was just done in there.'

'Understood. Sophie, it was lovely meeting you—I hope we'll see you again.'

She kissed him goodbye on both cheeks and said, 'Be nice to Harry. He is more sensitive than you think.'

Harry took her hand, and they walked together from the shop. He did his best to look cheerful, but he was actually still upset. 'Can we walk before meeting Laetitia and Eric?' he asked. 'I need to clear my head.'

'Yes, of course. I will call her on my portable.'

While Sophie rang Laetitia, Harry took stock of his emotions. Lee and George always slag me on the air, and it doesn't usually bother me. Or does it? he wondered. He recalled what she'd just told George: 'He is more sensitive than you think.'

'Why did you say that to George just now?' he asked when she put her phone away.

'That you are sensitive? Because it is true, mon cher. You are the beautiful man who glows at la Sainte Chapelle.'

'But that's Light magic, and not my feelings.'

'Is there any difference? You have such a big heart.'

The power the Dark Lord knew not. 'Maybe. But what gives me the right to be hypersensitive, when I'm "the most envied wizard in Britain?"'

She stopped and looked at him. 'Et alors? I am a model, but I still cried when my boyfriend cheated on me. That is why we no longer live la vie de bohème together.'

'Oh, ma chère ... when did that happen?'

'In July, before I meet you. That is why I was living with my family.'

'Were you together long?'

'More than a year. You were the first man I meet after him.'

They were still in Diagon Alley, and people were watching. 'We'll have privacy in a minute, once we get through the Leaky Cauldron,' he said, leading her there.

When they entered the tavern, a grey-haired witch said, 'You left in an awful hurry. Are you all right, love?'

'Yeah, I'd just had enough for one week. But thanks for asking.'

They left through the front door, and Harry felt himself relax. Sophie kissed him gently and said, 'Is this better?'

'Much. Stepping into Muggle London is like a holiday from real life.' They started walking towards the bar where they'd arranged to meet Laetitia, and he automatically expanded into awareness.

'Did I upset you when I said I do not like your house?' she asked.

'A bit, yeah. Honestly, the life you described sounds lovely, but it's not an option for me. Kreacher would be beside himself if I didn't let him take care of me. And now I have Lodie as well.'

'I know, your life is very complicated.'

They were silent for a while, and the answer arose from his state of awareness. 'So let's not worry,' he said. 'Let's enjoy when we're together, and not overthink it. It'll be like stepping into Muggle London. Maybe it's not real life, but it's a fantastic interlude, and that's fine.'

She squeezed his hand, and he knew she understood. 'It is perfect, mon cher,' she said, and they continued down the bustling London street.