Acknowledgement—This work of fanfiction, written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers, is based on the work of JK Rowling. The author thanks Ms. Rowling for allowing this opportunity to further enjoy her work and neither seeks nor receives remuneration.
Further Sorting
Chapter Two
Potter placed the bottle of ketchup in the center of the table. The apartment had apartment-sized furniture so he visually sized-up the available space. He thought three large plates and a ketchup bottle would fit so Potter went to the cupboard that he knew held Gabrielle's chic set of stoneware. He chose plates and cups and arranged three place settings. Then he opened a drawer and removed three forks, three knives and three spoons, putting them alongside the plates.
While he was doing that he kept glancing at Daphne Greengrass who was trying and failing to ignore Potter. He realized his thorough familiarity with the layout and placement of Gabrielle's dinnerware was telling and that it would not go unnoticed by Daphne Greengrass.
"Sit down, Gabi. Chat up your guest," said Potter. "Pouring coffee is not beyond my abilities."
Greengrass was doing a marvelous job of maintaining strict neutrality of visage and body language while sitting at her lover's breakfast table. Gabrielle was wanding a serving of scrambled eggs onto Daphne's plate when Potter spoke. Gabi wasn't affected but Greengrass made a choking noise. Gabi put the platter down before reaching for a hand.
"Okay?" she enquired.
"What the hell?"
Greengrass was clearly troubled, agitated, confused and a number of other emotion-linked conditions.
'Am I going to have to do this?' Potter asked himself.
Gabrielle didn't seem to have any detailed plans for getting together, with her intimate partners, to talk about those 'things.' Potter guessed that was the plan, all of it, in its entirety.
Typical.
"I'm fine," answered Greengrass. "Just taking this all in."
She waved her hand in a vague gesture that encompassed Potter, Gabrielle, breakfast and herself.
Potter had put two slices of bread into Gabi's toaster and started the cycle. The toast popped up and Potter began spreading butter. He put the toast on a side plate and brought it to the table.
"Can you cut those in half, please?" asked Greengrass. "Trying to limit my intake of carbohydrates."
He picked up the knife and cut the two slices in half, creating four half-slices of toasted bread.
"Thank-you, Potter," said Greengrass.
"How did you know one another?"
Gabrielle sounded genuinely curious.
Potter looked at Greengrass, before sending her a quick nod of deference.
"Hogwarts School," Greengrass explained. "Same year."
"Oh! School chums," said the Veela.
"Not exact—" Potter began before Greengrass cut him off.
"Chums," said Greengrass. "We weren't what you'd call chums."
"House system at Hogwarts," Potter explained. "Mine and hers. Didn't mix well."
Greengrass tried and failed to hold back a little snort. Potter decided it might be time for some explanation. Gabrielle was so young and had spent the war years in France. Potter knew she had been present when he, Bill and Fleur Weasley and, possibly, some other veterans had touched, in conversation, on some war experience or other. He seriously doubted she'd understood very much.
"You've heard me talking with Bill and Fleur about some events connected with our civil war within British wizardry?"
"Sure, 'Arry," said Gabi.
"The sides divided up at our school, to a degree," he said, speaking to Gabi but keeping an eye on Greengrass.
"The group around the Dark Lord came from all over but there was an over-representation from Slytherin House," said Potter. "There was even some violence in school. Greengrass's brother-in-law, Draco and I, we…we almost did something very foolish. That's how bad it was. Unfortunately, I have very few friends from Slytherin House, Ms. Greengrass's house, to this day. I wish it was different. Magical Britain will be slowly getting back together in around three hundred years."
That struck Greengrass as very funny. She had to stop eating and let it pass.
"Daphne?" asked Gabrielle. "I didn't know! Were you hurt?"
"No, but I lost some friends," Greengrass answered. "Mr. Potter did a great deal to patch things up afterwards. He was magnanimous in victory, I must give him that."
Potter smiled a closed-mouth smile and tilted his head toward Greengrass.
"Not pleasant, really," he said. "Believe me, you really don't want to know all the details."
"Bill's brother!" said Gabi. "Oh, I knew he'd lost him but I didn't connect it with your war. That is bad."
"Yes, and you are very lucky to have been out of it," said Potter.
He should have stopped right there but something drove him on.
"I'm lucky, in turn, to have someone like you to keep me aware of the beauty of innocence!"
"'ARRY!" said Gabrielle, leaning across the gap between chairs to bury her face in the angle where Potter's neck met his shoulder.
Potter gave her time to recover her dignity before turning to Greengrass.
"You don't have to let me hog the floor," he said. "I know Slytherin had people with another perspective. To be honest, I don't know anything about your personal views. I mean no offense."
"Ahh—yeah, we might get to that," said Greengrass. "First, though, please tell me, what in Merlin's name is going on here?"
"What do you mean?" asked Gabi.
"You really don't see anything amiss? We've been seeing each other for weeks—months! I'm pretty broad-minded but if you wanted Potter, you could have said something. Not invite me over to discover him wandering around the flat, in his socks, his shirttail out, the scent of sex hanging over every…"
"Ohhhh! I get it," said Potter, interrupting. "It's not like that at all, Greengrass. We're bond-mates."
"What? That makes it better? You just made it a hundred times worse!" said Greengrass, her voice going up in pitch and volume.
"It's fine, ma cher, fine! You don't know so perhaps I can explain," Gabi began.
Potter thought back to his initial meetings with Gabrielle, Fleur and Apolline, when Gabrielle was just fourteen and a bit more. He thought intervention might be advisable.
"Gabrielle, may I?" he asked, shifting to more formal speech.
Gabi looked at her champion, pride and confidence and, perhaps, a little desire showing. She nodded.
"Remember that damn-fool tournament? Back in our fourth Hogwarts year. They canceled quidditch so Durmstrang and Beauxbatons could come and we'd all get to know one another and benefit from that, somehow," said Potter. "Fleur Delacour, Gabi's sister, was the Beauxbatons champion."
Daphne Greengrass flashed a slight and smirky smile.
"I remember Potter Stinks," she said.
"Yes, I suspect you've got your very own pin at home right now in some kind of stasis box," Potter said, answering her snark with a bit of his own.
Greengrass looked ready to reply but Potter held up his hand.
"No, no, I sincerely do not want to know," he said, before going on with his historical sketch. "One of the tasks was to rescue someone dear to us from beneath the lake. Each champion was supposed to swim down, cut the person loose and swim them back to the surface. What the authorities didn't count on was a champion getting incapacitated and leaving their loved one behind. The cold weather, the lake water-Fleur couldn't finish. I got Ron Weasley free and sent him up and went back to see about Gabi. The merpeople thought I was supposed to stop at one but I saw Gabi there in the lake water and damned if I was going to leave her. I sent the merpeople away and got Gabi out of the kelp. It worked out."
"'Arry, you didn't tell it all," chided Gabi.
"That's the important stuff," muttered Potter.
"NON!" insisted Gabi, turning to Greengrass. "He was nearly out of air. He FOUGHT the merpeople, cut me loose, took me in his hands and up we went. With his dying breath…"
Her eyes filled with tears and Gabi couldn't go on.
"I don't like the dramatic part," Potter said, looking at Greengrass. "It sounds more important than it is. Yes, I got her out of the lake and back to her family. Then she had this bond-thing."
"Oh-h-h," said Greengrass.
She took a sip from her coffee cup and stared off into some void.
"It's all magic," said Gabrielle, gushing a little. "I was eight. He saved the little fledgling, put her safely back in the nest, his hands were so strong and gentle at the same time."
"Please, Gabrielle, you were eight and I was…older…" said Potter.
"Fourteen," she said, taking obvious pride in her accomplishment.
"Yes, I was fourteen," Potter acknowledged. "It sounds horrid, telling it now, but for years we were careful about propriety."
Greengrass burst out laughing.
"If it was a bond, you didn't have to be careful about anything," she said. "You're kind of compelled."
"What I mean is, we didn't have a physical relationship," said Potter. "What's more, Gabi has no actual memories of my hands, those minutes under water, because she was under an enchantment. Kind of suspended animation. Merlin, I'm still pissed about those people. It makes me furious to think of them taking someone her age and putting her down there for a student to rescue. Even if it was Fleur who was supposed to do it."
"I love it when that memory comes back to him," Gabi confided as she leant over toward Daphne. "He never got to put someone right for doing that. Have you seen him box?"
"Gabi, I think that might be left for another time," said Potter. "To sum up, I started helping Gabi with her bond condition when I was twenty, I think? Yes. She was fourteen and a few months. Fleur and Apolline explained it all to me. We were scrupulously chaste for years."
Potter and Gabrielle both snickered at that.
"Despite my best efforts to turn him," Gabi again confided to Greengrass.
"I still come and help with that," said Potter. "We're in that bond thing until we're not. Then, as I understand it, that can end."
"Don't count on it," growled Gabi.
"So you two can be head over heels, with my blessing," said Potter. "Gabrielle's physiology tells her when I need to come and see her. I like doing it. I mean, look at her—you're in love with her, I think."
Greengrass moved so quickly. She gasped, feeling some force that pushed her against her chair's back. Potter thought he knew what that meant.
"She hasn't told you?" he asked, directing it to Gabi.
The Veela shook her head, adding a quiet, "Non."
Potter looked at Greengrass, who looked back. Potter waited, but nothing happened. He felt frantic. He needed a way out.
"I'll just…a moment," he said with a nod to the hallway. Potter dabbed his napkin at his mouth, glancing back at Greengrass as he left.
HJPHJPHJP
Potter went back to Gabi's bedroom and closed the door. He looked at his watch, wondering if ten minutes would be enough. He also wondered if he was doing the right thing. If the tables were turned, would he want Greengrass meddling in his most private feelings? Before leaving, Potter stepped into the bath and flushed the commode, figuring that ought to cue the others to his imminent return.
When he arrived back in the kitchen, Gabi and Daphne were all chaste and respectable girlfriends, teasing their eggs with forks and bits of toast. Potter noted a little smearing of Greengrass's lipstick and a matching shade around Gabi's mouth. He avoided looking at the two as he returned and sat down on his chair. Potter was pleasantly surprised to discover his eggs were still warm.
The morning's breakfast conversation went on, much smoother than the first few minutes' worth. Greengrass didn't return to reminiscences of life in Slytherin House during the reign of Voldemort's proxies. Potter didn't ascribe it to chance nor to sensitivities. He was very grateful and willing to give his year-mate the benefit of the doubt.
"So, Potter, you're moving up in the aurors?" Greengrass asked as Potter poured more coffee.
"I was promoted, twice, since I joined," he said. "If that's moving up…"
He took a silver card case from a trouser pocket, removed one card and snapped the case shut.
"You're an assistant commissioner? How's that?" asked Greengrass.
"That's the muggle side," he replied. "Turn it over."
"Assistant Head Auror? Wow," said Greengrass.
"Thanks. Be aware there is a Deputy Head Auror, two Associate Head Aurors and three other Assistant Head Aurors besides me," said Potter.
"So why do you have a muggle side?" Greengrass asked, flipping the card back and forth.
"Aurors hold ranks that track the muggle counterparts. Not exactly because there are lots more police officers than aurors. My position is vaguely equivalent to an assistant commissioner so that is my nominal job according to protocol. A crime that crosses over community boundaries means officers of rank can get thrown together to manage the messy details," Potter explained. "The printing is special. It comes and goes, as needed, meeting our obligations under the International Convention."
"I never knew," said Greengrass.
"You're at the ICW?" asked Potter.
"I'm at the British Delegation," Greengrass replied.
"Not an international civil servant?"
"You're very conversant with the ephemera," noted Greengrass. "No, I'm in the service of our Ministry. I've been watching for an ICW detail opportunity. Those are supposed to be career-enhancing, according to the folklore."
"Good luck," said Potter. "Do you have a card on you? For future reference…"
"Of course," Greengrass answered.
She tried not to, but the quick eye-roll didn't escape Potter's notice, nor Gabrielle's.
Everyone finished eating. No one wanted to break off the interesting chat. Potter rose and started clearing the table. Washing up after three people didn't take long if one had a wand. Gabi began to stand and sat back down at Potter's hand motion. Making the Veela happy by doing a few chores around her house never got old. At home, Potter was a bachelor and relied on his house elf for almost everything related to keeping his quarters healthy and habitable. On the other hand, when he was near his bond-mate, Potter was convinced he could feel little tendrils of Gabi's happiness spilling over to himself. It was such a nice feeling he welcomed opportunities to slip her some subtle favors and courtesies.
Gabrielle had not summoned Potter because she was cycling. On the contrary, she'd invited him because she wanted to talk about those 'things' that needed airing. That done, he had no further reason to stay in Paris and there was always plenty of work for a supervisory-level auror in London. When the three had no additional joint business and the breakfast clean-up was complete, Potter excused himself and got ready to depart. Gabi showed a little disappointment but Potter doubted it would last long past his exit. After all, he had all but coerced Daphne Greengrass to declare her love for Gabrielle. Surely they would need some private time to memorialize that particular moment.
Life in London went on. Potter seldom sat around pining for companionship. Nor did he drown his sorrows. Potter's professional life was interesting, even compelling, at times. He didn't have romantic interests, other than Gabrielle. His friends knew he had a girlfriend, in France, so they weren't constantly trying to fix him up with an acquaintance, that single girl who was really sweet and had a great personality. Closer friends knew it was serious and long-term and that the two professionals had worked things out to their mutual satisfaction, thank-you. The very close friends, few in number, magical and trustworthy, knew he had bonded with a Veela and kept their mouths shut.
HJPHJPHJP
Potter was at his desk, approving timesheets for the people who worked under him, when his administrative assistant stepped into the office.
"Sir, reception says they have a Miss Greengrass at the desk who would like to speak with you," said the assistant.
"In the Atrium?" asked Potter.
"Yes, sir."
"Daphne or Astoria?"
"Messenger didn't say," said the assistant. "Sorry sir. Didn't realize there were two."
"Doesn't matter, I'm acquainted with both," said Potter. "They'll need an escort so go on down and bring her up."
It was Daphne. Potter looked up when the assistant delivered her.
"Two more," Potter said as he gave a little flick of his index finger toward the timesheets.
He signed his name two more times and called for his assistant, to whom he handed the stack of paper. Then he turned back to his visitor.
"Are we going out?" he asked.
Greengrass blinked.
"Is our business here, or can I treat you to coffee. Or tea?" asked Potter.
"Oh. Either," said Greengrass.
Potter stood and took his robe from the coat tree.
"Time for my break," he said to his assistant.
"When will you be back, sir?"
"Today," was all Potter would concede.
It was a short walk from his desk to one of the more obscure Ministry exits. The little magical café was just down the street. Potter liked it as a workday retreat because he could be back at his desk in minutes should he be summoned over some emergency situation. He waved at the witch behind the counter as they entered. As a regular, that earned him a server meeting himself and Daphne Greengrass at the table as they arrived.
"Two coffees, mine black, and, Madame Greengrass?" said Potter.
"Same, please," Greengrass said, a little smile showing.
"Nice to see you again," said Potter, as soon as they'd settled. "Anything I can do for you? Not in any trouble, I hope?"
That earned him an actual chuckle.
"No," said Greengrass, "Yourself?"
"If I am, no one has thought to inform me," said Potter.
He sat back as the coffees arrived at their table. Potter took the time to visually measure the distance to their closest neighbors. He liked to avoid casting silencing charms in public spaces. Sensitivities to magic varied among witches and wizards. A silencing charm, if noticed, could serve as an announcement that something juicy, even salacious, was under discussion. Potter waited but Greengrass did not show any sign of being eager to share whatever it was that brought her to his office. Giving up, he decided to ask.
"What can I do for you?" he said.
"Oh, considering our new…"
He waited, but Greengrass didn't finish her thought.
"Should we get to know one another better? What are your intentions? What are you and I to one another? Can I trust you?"
Once started, the words came pouring out.
"Hey—slow down! I'll answer your questions. Just organize your thoughts. Can I make an observation?" asked Potter.
Greengrass nodded her agreement before speaking.
"Go," she said.
Potter leaned across the table.
"You love her," he said.
Greengrass nodded.
"It's gone beyond that," said Potter.
Greengrass flinched, leaning back. She stared into Potter's eyes for a bit before nodding again.
"You're smitten. Bedazzled. You want to focus on the work that's on your desk but thoughts of Gabrielle keep displacing everything else while you enjoy your latest memories. That smile. The joy she communicates when you do something that pleases her. The way those little feathers look, the patterns they make, laying down, flat on her perfect skin."
Greengrass was pink, then very nearly red. Her upper lip was shiny and she wouldn't look at Potter.
"Please, stop," she whispered.
"Welcome to the club, Greengrass," said Potter. "Any ideas you wish to share?"
He quit speaking even though there was a lot more he could say.
Greengrass slipped into a mild case of incoherence.
"Potter…some triangle with you and your girlfriend…I'm a professional…example for my daughter…"
She clearly didn't want to bring that up and yet she did. Potter wasn't surprised. He'd had the opportunity to interview hundreds of suspects, crime victims and witnesses. Many times, all that was required was for someone in authority to sit across a table, look at the interviewee and wait patiently for them to spill. It was a pretty effective technique, most of the time, especially if the subject didn't know what the authorities knew or what she ought to try to protect.
"If you're worried about Blaise, don't," said Potter. "I'm certain he won't give a hoot if you acquire a girlfriend."
Greengrass's eyes flashed.
"My relationship with my former husband…"
"Greengrass, you're over-stressing. Relax."
She took a deep breath, then another. Then she had a sip of coffee.
"I never thought…" said Greengrass.
"Calm down. Can you sit there for five minutes? I'll run a little errand next door and I'll be right back," said Potter.
Greengrass nodded.
"Promise?"
She looked like that was an impertinent question for a Ministry copper, fancy title or not, to be directing toward a diplomat. Even so, Greengrass nodded again as Potter stood to run his errand.
As he'd said, he was out the door and back a short while later, possibly not needing the full five minutes.
"Right," said Potter as he slid back into his seat. "Let's take our time with what's left of this coffee. It's some of the best in London, if you ask me. I'd still come in here for conversations or if I had to do a little representation for the office. Hospitality doesn't have to break the bank. Are you going to tell me what brought you to London? Besides this conversation?"
"Oh, ordinary stuff," said Greengrass. "I had an appointment with a healer. I'll do some things at the office. You probably do the same for your department."
"I do," said Potter nodding as he looked into her cup. "Finished? Want to walk?"
They headed for a landmark in Hyde Park that had an occluded apparation point nearby.
"Does your cloak convert to something?" asked Potter as his own transformed into a conventional business suit.
Greengrass nodded and did some kind of hand gesture that made her cloak become a very nice, tailored, skirt-and-jacket outfit. Potter felt his eyebrows perk up and fought to get control of his facial muscles.
Once that was accomplished, he took a moment to wonder exactly what was robbing him of his hard-won self-discipline. By some silent means, the two agreed on their route and started off down a walking path.
"How do you know about Blaise?" asked Greengrass.
"School," said Potter. "Yes, I realize he was in Slytherin, I was in Gryffindor. He was in Slytherin back then, too, and we could converse, say hello, acknowledge one another's presence without automatically contemplating violence. Surprised?"
"A little," said Greengrass. "You did seem more than a bit prejudiced toward us at the time."
"That was then, though, wasn't it?" asked Potter. "We outgrew that. Now we have adult jobs. Adult lives."
He caught himself. That sounded puffed-up. He had no claim to being better than anyone else, even if they were a product of Slytherin House.
Greengrass looked over. She slid her hand under his upper arm, a loose grip around his bicep.
"May I?" Greengrass asked. She actually sounded…sweet?
Potter reminded himself not to make assumptions.
"Sure," he said. "Now, didn't you want to talk about you, me and Gabi? We can come back to it, if you aren't ready."
"I did," said Greengrass. "What can you tell me about your place in her life? I'm not prying. I've never been in one of those bonds you two go on about."
"That's it," said Potter. "I pulled her out of the lake. Some magic happened. In Veela, that can take the form Gabi described. Once or twice a year she needs to see her bond-mate. When she describes the phenomenon, it sounds to me as if she gets a kind of affirmation from my presence. She likes—she has an appetite for male company. Did she tell you about Marcel? Yeah. Poor schmuck, flying totally above his ceiling. As I understand it, my responding to her call, holding her while she sits next to me with her legs up under herself, bringing her some of her favorite goodies, taken together is a ritual that fills some primeval need. Gabi's favorite theory is it's an echo, eons old, of the mother sitting on eggs while the mate brings food and stands guard over her."
They walked along the path, silent, Greengrass letting Potter direct their course.
"You started seeing her when she was fourteen?" asked Greengrass.
Potter pulled up, turning to face her.
"Don't," he said.
An elaborate belvedere was just ahead. Potter turned again, leading Greengrass to the shelter.
"Gabi is free to tell you anything. I trust her. Something gets divulged, that's hers to divulge. I love her. I won't see her hurt. When her Veela nature tells her she's done with me she's free to go. With my blessing, Greengrass, because it has been a rare privilege to be close to her all these years. I'm not in competition with you for her favors. I hope you and I can be on good terms. Just do not hurt her, understand?
"Now, I have to return to the office, unless you can think of some actual business we need to sort. Have a safe trip back to Paris."
With that, Potter stepped back, turning for the opening out to the walking path and, eventually, an apparation back to the Ministry.
Greengrass wasn't quite finished, it seemed.
"Potter," she called out.
Potter turned and looked back.
"Can I call you by your first name?" asked Greengrass.
"Sure, Daphne," he answered. "Why not?"
HJPHJPHJP
Some uneventful months passed before his Veela summoned Potter. He did his job, in London, thinking now and then about Gabrielle. Thinking of Gabrielle meant thinking about Greengrass but Potter didn't see a lot of significance in thoughts about Gabi's girlfriend.
"First time that's happened," thought Potter as he turned the knobs in his shower.
He had awakened that morning in the middle of a dream featuring Gabi, Greengrass and himself. Nothing salacious was happening, just the three of them, walking together, commenting when some bit of nature caught someone's attention. A meadow gave way to some woods, not too thick, populated by dragons. They were small, at first, but got larger as the trio walked deeper into the woods. None of the dragons became aggressive, although, they were still dragons and the magical dream-selves silently acknowledged they were worthy of deference.
Potter was leaning toward Gabrielle, listening, and completely lost track of Greengrass, when he heard a thump, followed by a scream. He turned to see Greengrass flat on her back, held down on the ground beneath a great dragon's hind foot.
"Damn, Greengrass," Potter protested. He cast a 'Depulso' spell, intending to knock the dragon off Greengrass but some combination of Potter's casting and the strength of the Elder Wand resulted in a gross over-powering and the dragon exploded in a sphere of crimson mist. That was the point at which Potter awoke.
Looking around for his companions, Potter was surprised to find himself in the familiar surroundings of his bedroom, lacking any sign of getting caught in a dragon blood spray. A quick visual check, followed by two or three firm hand-pattings, demonstrated the absence from his bed of both Gabrielle and Daphne Greengrass. This time, there was no summons. No 'Arry!' Just the feeling that always accompanied their bond calling out, informing the Veela and her wizard that her psyche demanded his presence.
When he finished his shower, Potter used the floo at Grimmauld Place to contact his number two and let him know he would be in charge until further notice. The office had a list of his most likely locations, if he was neither at the shop nor at home. Gabrielle's place in Paris sat atop the list.
"Paris?" asked his deputy.
"Yes," Potter admitted.
"I'll do my best to, ahhh, minimize interruptions," said Number Two.
Potter didn't sign off, but he did allow himself to silently call Number Two a putz. A cheeky putz, at that.
The call had an atmosphere of emergency hanging about so Potter didn't take a scenic route, favoring instead some apparations using by-subscription waypoints. Potter paid, out of pocket, for the special routing because every time he thought he would give up the subscription something like Gabi's call came in and he ended up signing on for another year.
The journey ended in a secluded corner of a metro stop just steps from Gabi's apartment block. Potter walked quickly, entered the building and occluded himself on the way up the stairs.
With no worries over being seen, he stood in the hallway before her flat's door and listened for Gabi's voice from inside the flat.
"Relax, will you?"
"When he gets here, I'll leave. You don't need me right now and I can clean the flat, go see a film, write letters…"
"Ohh-h-h…"
"Don't moan, he'll take care of everything. He likes it!"
He wasn't sure he liked it but the two female voices seemed to indicate Potter wasn't walking into an ambush so he knocked on the door to the flat.
"'Arry!"
Potter smiled. Gabi was the same as always. Just as she'd been every time since she'd mentally summoned him, that first time. Nowadays, they kissed one another on the lips in greeting but otherwise it was all much the same.
"Gabi, what is going on?" asked Potter.
"Oh, Daphne said she didn't know anyone in a Veela bond so I promised her…" Gabi began.
"Please!" said Greengrass, shooting a dangerous look at Gabrielle. "Harry, it was a conversation some time back and I mentioned I was a stranger to all this, only in passing, not prying at all, and ever since…"
"I said we'd fix her up!" said Gabi, clearly delighted.
"How do you know she wants to be fixed up?" asked Potter, shrugging out of his overcoat.
Dropping the coat over the back of a stuffed chair, he stood still, anticipating a hug, at least, from the French Veela.
"Arry, who would not want to? How can you say that? Don't you find me attractive?" asked Gabi.
"Don't start, Gabi, when have I ever NOT found you attractive?" asked Potter.
"When I first called out to you! You made me wait…"
"When it was not only illegal on both sides of the Channel but your mother and sister were in the room! Fleur warned me not to let you catch me alone! I observed that for years, just for decency. Respecting your youth, your right to make choices not directed by out-of-control hormones. We stayed within the bounds of decency as well as the law. Both of us should be happy we did," he replied.
"He's such a prude," said Gabrielle, turning to face Greengrass. "I don't wonder you English invented Puritans. Well, I will drink one of Apolline's horrid vials of potion and we will all go out for a late breakfast or early lunch as you wish."
With that, the Veela went down the short corridor. Her guests heard the door close and latch.
"Daphne," said Potter.
"Lord Harry," answered Greengrass.
"If you don't want…the thing is, I don't insist," said Potter.
"Oh, after that performance, I defer to you," said Greengrass. "Not just on this, on lots of things. How did you escape recruitment by my own service? We're dreadfully short of skilled negotiators like yourself."
Potter stood still in the middle of the apartment's living room/dining room/kitchen as he thought over those last comments.
"Languages," he replied. "I'm awful. These people with four or five—I'd do a lot of revolting stuff just to speak French well."
Greengrass was silent, staring.
"I suppose you're one of them?" Potter asked, sighing.
"Well, in French and Spanish I'm allegedly as good as you get unless you're born there and speak it from birth. I learned German as an adult so some of the subtleties, dialect and so on, not so good. Madame Zabini has Morgana in Italian lessons so I'm trying to get started on her slang and curse words," said Greengrass.
"Thanks for making me feel barely adequate," said Potter. "What is this all about?"
"She needs her bond-mate close," said Greengrass. "Started feeling it yesterday sometime. I got the full briefing when I got here. She owled my place and asked to see me. I—uh—I stayed the night," said Greengrass.
"Oh, thanks," said Potter.
"You don't mind?" asked Greengrass.
"Mind? Of course not," said Potter. "Getting her through her difficulties is what's important. It's good you're here. I am personally grateful to you."
Greengrass stood still, staring.
"Well," she finally said, "That is very accommodating of you. Coffee?"
The carafe was still warm and the coffee fresh. Potter accepted a cup from Greengrass and sat down on Gabi's settee. Greengrass followed, taking the stuffed chair opposite.
"Solve any crimes?" she asked.
"No, but the aurors did," said Potter. "Exotic and threatened animal smuggling. You guys are supposed to be coming up with a parallel trade agreement to what the muggles are doing."
"I've heard of that, don't have anything to do with it. Different bureau," said Greengrass.
"Law enforcement keeps taking down the organizations," said Potter. "Consumers keep buying the live animals, AND the parts. New organizations emerge to replace the ones we break up."
"Merde!" said Greengrass as Gabrielle returned from her room.
"'Arry! What have you done to my English girlfriend?" asked the Veela. "You have her blaspheming like a native!"
"Merde is not blasphemy, even I know that," said Potter. "You took your potion? We can step out, mix with decent people?"
"Are you saying I'm indecent?" Gabi demanded.
"Indecency can strike without warning," said Potter. "I've seen it."
Something about the semi-raucous banter brought out a kind of guttural, growling sound that made Potter think of the carnivorous Roc from the Sinbad tales. He braced for the Veela's body blow, letting her momentum knock him further into the back of the settee.
"Okay, okay, okay," Potter said, his lips nearly pressed against a Veela ear. "Time for that later. You wanted to go out for something to eat."
He thought he'd gotten there soon enough but Gabrielle's emotional and physical state was close to critical. On the other hand, Apolline's suppressing potion would be smoothing out Gabi's cravings for Potter. If he could get the other two focused on food, they might be able to hit the street and find a table in a suitable reataurant.
Suitability wasn't some silly notion. The Veela had feathers. She accepted the theory that her line of ascent from the primordial passed through birds, somehow, and was not exclusively mammalian. Potter did not have any idea how that was possible but he had seen the same theory espoused in print so he let the Veela and their supporters claim it.
That said, Gabi's heritage set up a thought problem whenever they decided to go out for a meal. Fowl was not part of the Veela's diet. No chicken, no duck, no game hens. That left vegetarian, beef, pork, lamb and fish. Potter refused to eat lamb. He wasn't sure why other than the traumas of his childhood caused him to identify with the cute and innocent. He thought that might also have something to do with his devotion to his bond-mate, who had come into his life as a direct result of mistreatment by the organizers of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"We could have fish," suggested Gabi.
"Fish is good," allowed Potter.
Greengrass didn't respond.
"What?" asked Potter.
"No," said Greengrass. "It's nothing."
"Yes it is," said Gabrielle.
"Okay," said Greengrass. "I haven't eaten animal flesh in years."
"Why didn't you say something?" asked Potter.
"The Moroccan place!" said Gabi.
"Couscous. Vegetable tajine," said Potter.
The two turned and looked at Greengrass.
"I guess…" she began.
Gabrielle gave everyone directions and the three were soon at the door of the magical Moroccan vegetarian restaurant. Potter explained to the host that they'd come due to the restaurant being the first establishment that met their dietary needs and that, while they didn't have advance reservations, they were prepared to wait a reasonable amount of time for some of the vegetarian tajine they'd heard so much about.
Flattery delivered, the party was soon seated in a cozy booth. Dinner lasted an hour, more or less.
"Wow," said Potter when they were back on the sidewalk.
"I'll say," Greengrass agreed. "Thank-you, Gabi, I have never been here before tonight. Hope I can find my way back."
"Here," said Gabrielle, handing over a book of matches printed with the restaurant's particulars.
No one said where they were going when they first took off, walking. Of course, their walking route magically led to a street that paralleled the Seine, then across a bridge, then a stop at a smoky café that had a little bandstand. A drummer, a bass and a single trumpeter were playing. As expected, the repertoire consisted of classic standards heard in similar dives in New York, Chicago and Copenhagen. The trumpeter worshipped at the Temple of Miles, clearly, although he wasn't bad at some of the other arrangements.
"You don't have anything like this in London," Gabi said, just a little puffed-up.
"True," said Potter. "We have marching bands. They are very good at staying in formation while they play Colonel Bogey."
He sat up straight on his chair's seat and rocked back and forth to a four-four beat he must have heard inside his own head.
'Dum-DUMM-de-dum-dum-dum-dum, doot-diddley-doot-diddley-dooo…'
Potter's mini-concert elicited an actual laugh from Daphne Greengrass. He tried to remember if he had heard her laugh at any time in the past and came up blank. That seemed a shame, to Potter. She was both a smart and attractive witch. He wondered if she had been born without a sense of humor.
Jazz couldn't keep them inside the smoky club forever and the three went back into the nighttime streets. Potter wasn't in a mood for awkward three-way conversations about overnight arrangements. Someone had to take the initiative.
"Gabi, if I'm not needed any longer, I do have plenty of work back in London. Can I exit, gracefully? I'll even promise to be at your beck and call," said Potter.
"'Arry! What is this not needed? I need you always!" said Gabrielle.
She looked ready to do her signature pout, the one that always presaged Potter wrapping himself around Gabi's little finger, saving her the trouble of doing it herself.
"No," said Greengrass. "I have a file full of overdue assignments and I will benefit from a good night's sleep. I'll go, you two have fun. Gabi, I'll see you later on in the week."
Of all the things that might have happened, Potter would have put what DID happen near the bottom of the list. Gabi started to cry. Potter and Greengrass leaned, getting their heads a little closer to Gabrielle, who was several inches shorter than either of them.
"Tell us what is wrong, Gabi," asked Greengrass. "We're just strolling in Paris. I thought we were having fun. Didn't you, Harry?"
"Seemed so, to me," said Potter. "What did we do wrong?"
"Can you take me home? I want you both to come with me," said Gabi.
Potter looked at Greengrass, straightening his arm so she could move in a bit closer, then getting a grip on Gabi's upper arm before taking all of them to the apparation point near her apartment. Once inside, Potter got the witches settled on the couch and boiled a kettle of water. Three little white cups of an instant espresso were soon placed on a tray and brought over from the kitchen.
"So," said Potter. "Tell us."
"Oh, I have made such a mess," said Gabi. "I wanted everyone to have a good time."
"We have, haven't we, Harry?" asked Greengrass.
"Um—yeah, although I am thinking Gabi has a specific kind of good time in mind. Right, Gabi?"
"Yes, I wanted to get us together so I could tell you how I feel," said the Veela. "I've been so happy since I saw Daphne and we had coffee and went shopping…and the other, of course."
Potter really did wonder about Gabi, sometimes. She had been in two relationships simultaneously, presumably for several months. She discovered she had a desire to merge the two affairs so, the logical approach for Gabi was to bring her lovers together for a discussion. Of 'things.'
"Gabi, if I may," said Potter. "To put it bluntly, you'd been wanting to take Daphne, and me, home to bed. All at once. Am I right?"
"Of course, 'Arry but I have made such a mess, non?"
She looked so down, so disappointed in how things turned out. Potter resolved to throw her a nice party as soon as they could get together, in London. No, he'd take her to the South of France and do the party there. He'd commission a new dress for both Gabi and Daphne, hang the expense.
"'Arry?"
"Yes, Gabi?" Potter answered.
"Have I made a mess?" she asked.
Potter looked across to Greengrass, who looked just as eager to hear his answer as if she had asked the question herself.
"No, Gabi, you're trying so hard, things just got a tiny bit out of control. Nothing we can't fix. This is why I love you so much. Where else would I get such an experience? You're doing a wonderful job, isn't she, Daphne?"
"Yes, as always," said Greengrass. "Do you want us to stay over?"
"YES! YES! YES!" Gabi said, nearly shouting.
Greengrass looked at Potter and shrugged. Potter shrugged back.
"It's a sleepover, Gabi," said Potter. "Understand? Not an all-night three-way or some Veela fertility celebration. We don't want you here all by yourself just now. Not alone. We want to keep you company."
For that, Potter received one Veela, nearly in a swoon, lying with her back across his thighs, looking up at the face she was caressing.
"If you aren't going to drink the coffee you can go get dressed for bed," Potter suggested.
Gabrielle bounced up and hurried down the hallway.
"The nightgown," Potter called after her. "The one that goes all the way down to your feet."
"Ohh…" moaned the disappointed Veela.
"No monkey business, agreed?" asked Potter. "I just wanted to help her out when no one else could. The bond, you know? I was the only one she had. Maybe she's grown out of that."
Greengrass studied Potter, her body on the end of the settee, back supported by the armrest.
"Can't be comfortable for you," said Potter. "I'll sit across. You move. Sit properly. You're making my back cramp up."
They rearranged themselves to their mutual satisfaction.
HJPHJPHJP
"Daphne, if you want her, permanently, I think it might be best if I made a graceful exit. Nothing abrupt or shocking. Ease myself out. You two might live happily ever after," said Potter.
"We might," said Greengrass. "My assignment is winding down. I could resign and tidy up this episode of my life. Settle in with the little Veela. Trouble is, I'm up for a truly plum assignment. Chief of the New Orleans office. That's high visibility in the service and more than one New Orleans chief has come back to top management in London. I can't walk away from it."
Potter looked at the blank wall across from the settee, pursed his lips and let his breath out in a long wh-s-s-s-s-s.
"Sleep on it?" he asked as he stood up.
"No monkey business," Greengrass said in confirmation.
She sounded very sure about that—convinced, in fact.
"You are doing something about birth control?" asked Potter.
"Potter! Damn you, I said NO monkey business!"
"Mmm…Yeah, you hope things don't get out of control but if they do we'll get lucky and nothing will come of it. I think the existence of half of humanity can be traced right back there," said Potter. "Ready for bed?"
The two of them snuggling up to their Veela, assuring her they loved her and would be there as long as she was seeking the key to her own happiness, had the outcome Potter had foreseen. Morning arrived right on time. Gabi was in the middle and woke Potter when she had to climb over him to get out of bed.
"Dazzling," he murmured, ogling the first things he saw when he opened his eyes.
Gabrielle snickered, trailing her fingertips over Potter's abdomen as she exited. The bathroom door closed behind her and Potter looked across at Greengrass.
"Excellency," he said, his grin embedded with some sort of silent communication.
"What?" asked Greengrass as she pulled the sheet up over some exposed bits. "What does that mean? Go ahead and say it, Potter. 'I told you so!' I thought I was done with that nonsense."
"Don't feel bad," he said. "You didn't do anything a hundred thousand consenting adults weren't doing at the same time, right here in this city."
"It's not that," said Greengrass. "I thought I'd finally…finally settled that question."
"Okay, you're a bit confused. Take your time, think it through. Maybe you'll decide it was a one-time, ecstatic experience that you can live with. I'll be leaving today. Sometime soon, when it is just Gabi and me, we'll talk. Maybe we can finally find a solution," said Potter.
"Ecstatic?"
Ah, Greengrass had picked up on that word choice. Potter planted an elbow and raised himself up.
"It was for me, Daphne. I swear it was. I'll never forget it."
Potter rolled out of bed. The boxers that had come off at some point lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. Potter bent over and picked them up on the way to the bathroom. Greengrass watched him cross the room, stop and stand naked by the door. He knocked, entering only when Gabi told him he could. Daphne Greengrass relaxed and lay back. She stared at the ceiling, reveling in the tingling traces of memories made during her night with Harry and Gabrielle.