Getafix

"Oh Potter, I want your hot pork in me again," said Daphne Greengrass from behind him, breathily.

Harry sighed on the couch at Grimmauld place. "Really?" he asked. She just loved that line.

"In half an hour," said Harry.

Greengrass sighed. "I um, I'm sorry I tried to rope you into a marriage contract, or a concubinage agreement. It's just, my experience of men had been." She sighed again, "awful. You didn't need to be bribed, you were just nice. You're a good healer, Harry."

"Um, thanks," said Harry, who was actually fantasising about his lawyer, and a very unprofessional way of improving layer-client relations.

"It's just you do look really funny when you're trying to be professional, and I suggest something extremely salacious," said Greengrass.

"Funny?" asked Harry, focussing on the here and now for a change.

"Like you're about to swallow your own tongue. You go red in the face and don't know where to look," said Greengrass. Harry indignantly felt that he bloody well did – he'd done human anatomy at St Mungo's, and extracurricular study with a few girls from the clubs of London.

"I was trying to be professional," said Harry.

"This might sound silly," said Greengrass.

Harry mentally reviewed her 'silliest' statements, versus, for example, the average witch presenting at St Mungo's, off her head on a potions overdose. It seemed like there was really little chance. "Go on, tell me?" asked Harry, wishing that being professional and nice wasn't a thing for a bit. Just long enough to erm. Self-loathing filled him up.

"Do you like me?" asked Greengrass, awkwardly. "Cos you're handsome and kind and… god you're so fucking self-sacrificing it's actually bordering on annoying."

Harry floundered, wanting to say something, and felt affronted. Bordering on annoying? That was insulting. Just because his two best friends got annoyed about it, didn't mean that Greengrass… who he … spent ages with could be so judgey. Well, she was just judgemental; he'd known that from the first time she came into his consult room. He swigged another bottle of daydream charm, the Hawaiian music swelled in his head, and he turned on the couch. Daphne's head fell into his lap, and she blinked at him. "Potter?" And she smiled softly, and that made Harry feel odd. Like the fourth of fifth time he'd kissed Ginny in a deserted classroom. A sort of 'go on, give me a kiss smile.'

"Kiss me?" asked Harry, millions of years of evolution doing the talking for a change. Besides, he'd already been dumped for it, so why not.

Technically his second kiss with Daphne Greengrass sort of leaning on his lap also included slight neck and back-strain as he bent down, and she pulled herself upwards with her hands round his neck, up to his head and kissed him, but that was hard to notice, because her lips were warm and soft and tasted of strawberries. And she knotted her hands in his hair and snogged him. Harry felt that snogging back was definitely right. They both ended up panting on the couch, and lying almost parallel. It was actually a little cramped, and only his good working knowledge of human anatomy kept him from elbowing her in the stomach.

"I think I'm cured," said Daphne. "Let's go to the broom rental."

Harry got two more bottles, wrapped his arm around her, and they drank. The sunset broom rides were even better if you were holding a witch and snogging, thought Harry.

The next few weeks had some tiresome going to work bits, but then there was the parlour in Grimmauld place, and a potion-fuelled trip to Hawaii with Daphne Greengrass. Not that they did more than snog… she was an ex-patient, and had a horrific relationship history and … well, Harry wanted to um… but also not drown in self-loathing the next day, like he had with the girls he met out clubbing, let alone the mess with his lawyer, the one that looked like his ex-girlfreind. And obviously, she had to go home at night, and had work and stuff.

And she started pinching all the really crispy bits of crackling too. Harry felt that on balance, he could cope. And days turned to weeks, and not every day had Daphne in it, and that was okay. He told himself that. His reflection nodded and agreed, but the bathroom mirrors at Grimmauld were enchanted to talk back rather obsequeously; he suspected that charming all the mirrors to be agreeable had been the only way Mr Black stopped Sirius's quite insane mum from breaking them all.

Well, a few days later a bloke needed to make sure he had plenty more Daydream charm potions, that was all. Harry went to Weasleys Wheezes again to get more of the stuff. George nodded to Harry and jerked his head in the direction of the back room.

"Got this for you special. Just yours of course," he said, and handed Harry a bottle with a black-and-white label.

'Sexy patient daydream. Exclusively for Harry Potter.'

And the label also had a cartoon of a witch bulging out of her skimpy robes.

Harry swallowed awkwardly, his hands shaking. It had been real. He'd… lived it. She was even sort-of prepared to lie against him and snooze. Except in Hawaii – they'd … well it had been fantastic actually, like a dream. Like someone else's life really. Like the good times back in the day, with Ginny at school in that regard. Harry felt his stomach falling like he'd accidentally taken the lifts in the Ministry. 'Oh bugger,' he thought, 'not again.'

"George?" asked Harry in little more than a croak, "Sexy patient?" he asked.

"Well, it's for you init," said George, "figured you'd like it, right?"

"Well um," said Harry.

"Come on you liked it last time," said George, and Harry dropped the bottle, which shattered on the floor and he ran. Once he was outside, he apparated to Grimmauld place and got inside and bolted the door.

He was fine. And… he was sure, well fairly sure he hadn't been taking 'sexy patient daydream.' Surely he'd remember.

But the last several months were a long Hawaii-holiday-filled half-remembered dream.

Well, except for… Greengrass.

Who he was… would have to apologize to. He'd been quite unprofessional.

And he wondered just what had really happened. Poor girl. Oh god. Self-loathing filled Harry like… stuffing in a Turkey. Or a goose… because he suspected his goose was cooked. Harry briefly considered the medical advisability of coping with life by taking hallucinatory potions, and discarded the idea. However, the one thing he knew from life was that self-reliance and breaking rules and possibly laws was how you got important things done. Harry mentally reviewed his history with Greengrass, an ex-patient, and some possibly disciplinary offences vis-a-vis enabling body dysmorphia, and possibly dubious potion use. And decided to ignore everything, and just go apologise privately (so she wouldn't come after him trying to hex him) and then pretend it had all never happened. He already had to find a new lawyer, as it was.

-=0=-

Harry had made his peace with Greengrass at her lending-shop, apologized for … taking liberties, and promised that he would… take less hallucinogenic potions in future. He felt agitated, kept scratching at his right elbow where the cursed scar was, and wasn't paying a lot of attention to her really. Assuming she was real at all.

"So that's medically inadvisable then," she said politely but coolly.

"Well, yes," said Harry, and he slunk off. Hello self-loathing, my old friend.

He did see George again at Sunday dinner at the Weasleys. Ginny was off overseas with the Harpies and the half-life of Mrs Weasley being upset about his second breakup, was apparently four to six months. After roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, Harry went out with Ron and George to fly a bit, throw the old Quaffle around. Healthy exercise was good for you, after all.

They all ended up lying on the grass, tired, watching the sunset. It was peaceful, and Harry felt he'd finally got over all the stupid things he'd done under the influence of daydream potions. He still wasn't having nightmares either, so there was something good that came of it. Even if he'd behaved abominably to poor Daphne Greengrass. He had no idea what she'd actually come in for. Maybe just her sister, and some adjustment disorder. He felt too embarrassed to ask when he'd apologized.

And she'd been polite and formal like he expected posh-ish purebloods always were.

Still, that cloud looked like Snape's nose.

"Oh, and Harry?" said George.

"What?" asked Harry

"Gotcha," said George.

"Gotcha?" asked Harry, confused.

"Sexy patient daydream. The look on your face when I said you'd had it before. I nearly died laughing."

Harry realized something important, and horrible, and did the only thing he could. He screamed. His life was… not a lie but he'd broken up with… a very good-looking witch because of a prank. And the poor woman had a terrible relationship history. Breaking up wit her, as victim of a prank, had been medically inadvisable, in his professional opinion. And the previous good-looking witch had broken up with him, and the one before that. Harry felt that he was actually doomed to be forever broken-up with, and grimaced.

But first… and much more importantly, some reversible, not actually life-threatening curses on George Weasley.

George ran off laughing, as Harry fired curse after curse at him, discarding the safer ones and switching to spells that would remove George's limbs. However, George had the reflexes of a war veteran and made it to the apparation boundary and popped away, doubtless to hole up at the shop under protective enchantments that could survive a war. Harry did the only logical thing open to him, and went on a bender, at home.

Much later, Ron held his shoulders as he drank himself unconscious at Grimmauld place.

"Fucker," Harry swore. Ron had stopped him from well, blasting his way into the shop and cursing George into a slurry. Ron was a good mate.

"Well, you used to laugh at my spider phobia," said Ron. "Wankers turned my teddy into spiders when I was only three. Now you understand they're… George is a wanker."

"I um…" said Harry, thinking of … well Greengrass's breasts actually. And her lips and … he'd gone over and … called the whole thing off. They'd spent ages going to imaginary Hawaii together – it was really restful, and she was pretty and fairly nice and… he'd broken up with her because George was a wanker. He pointedly didn't think about Mafalda's comments about him being a rotten shag. He was already deeply upset.

"What do I do?" Harry cried.

"Mate," said Ron, "You really shouldn't ask me about relationships. You know I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"She still loves you though," said Harry.

"Well yeah," said Ron. "She's great."

Harry felt that saying that actually Hermione was quite mental, but in a dangerous adventures, fun problem-solving way, was probably not going to have Ron onside. And he couldn't tell Hermione.

"You should ask Hermione," said Ron "She's a girl, explain about all the feelings and stuff, and she'll have an idea."

Harry's throat closed up at the thought of explaining to Hermione about… feelings and stuff, and Dating Mafalda mostly because she looked like Ginny, and then Greengrasss's succession of sex work jobs, and her cosmetic transfigurations and… Hermione would lose her shit completely, before he got to the bit with the hallucinogenic potions. And he was going to get blamed for enabling some if it, he just knew. Just because he'd enabled it. Hermione was really judgemental that way.

And she thought he didn't like her. Daphne, of course, not Hermione. Hermione was okay, but… Greengrass was mental in a way that Harry found actually soothing. Some of it was medically challenging, but, as long as he kept his cardiovascular fitness up, he was sure he'd be fine. Well, he'd have to take more care to erm, snog her better, but anyway.

All he needed was any idea how to get from the here and now, to where he wanted to be.

Which was, he realized, on holiday with Greengrass in actual Hawaii.

At a resort. With activities, and luau, and … well reading a book in a lounger with her. Not the same book, obviously. Though the same lounger would work if it was wider than normal.

Well, 'and stuff,' obviously.

He resorted to cheating, violating a few St Mungo's patient privacy rules by looking in her file to find her residential address. Well, okay, all of the privacy rules.

He found her address was just her parent's home, which technically speaking, he already knew, but he'd assumed she lived somewhere else, some little love-nest, however, she lived with her parents, so he apparated there, and apparently, they also had a solicitous house-elf called Ferd, and Ferd directed Harry over to a gazebo while "Miss Daphne," was notified. Harry pulled the suitcase out of his trouser pocket, and put it on the ground beside him. And waited, anyone could space-expand a pocket. And everyone else could buy them from 'The witches pocket shop.'

"A suitcase?" asked Greengrass strolling over, in a normal robe, looking at him severely. Which absolutely should not remind him of an embarrassing dream about Mrs Malfoy at all. He'd been sixteen, and confused.

Harry opened it, and pointed out the contents;

"Hawaiian shirts, shorts, swimwear. Tropical print bikini for you, board shorts for me. Novels – I got three muggle ones that the lady in the book-store said were ideal for holiday reading, and three for me. Apparently 'mil thrils' are what men read on holiday."

"And why should I care? You don't care about me, you think it was all a mistake," she said, sounding congested. Possibly hayfever, but more likely she was upset.

"You cannot possibly imagine how sorry I am," said Harry. He wasn't entirely sure, but it was a bottle and a half of firewhiskey at least.

"Hmm," she said, "Go on?" And lifted her eyebrows.

"What I want is to go on holiday with you. Actual holiday to actual Hawaii," said Harry.

"Your roast pork with pineapple's not that bad," she conceded.

"Noted," said Harry, "But that's for work. We've both got jobs. When you can take a say, two week break, given that I need to line mine up with St Mungo's, of course?"

"I'd need someone to run the shop. It's not like my sister could do it." said Daphne. "Well, the pocket shop, obviously, she runs that now."

"Given," said Harry "The other shop. Have you considered your friend Tracey Davis? Weren't you two best mates at Hogwarts?"

"She's … she has a real job, Potter. Her family aren't broke, and she's working for her dad as a legal trainee."

"That sounds boring," said Harry, hoping Tracey never talked to Mafalda. "It's only for two weeks. Surely a friend could manage that."

And then he remembered the other thing, and pulled out the tickets "Resort tickets – on Maui, in Hawaii. Muggle resort. With luau, and activities and cabanas."

"And mosquitoes."

"Apparently they have insect screens. Fine mesh to keep them out." said Harry. "And there's insect repellant."

"And what, a muggle trip there?"

"I was thinking portkey actually. Miles faster," said Harry.

"One problem. You're a wanker," said Daphne. Oh. That was an issue still, thought Harry. Maybe if he explained.

"Let me explain," said Harry. "My ex has five brothers. George Weasley is a business partner, and her brother. He makes the daydream charms. Or sells them – the fine details aren't important."

"And, so far this is things anyone knows," said Daphne. "And you still seem like a wanker."

"George thought it was very funny to make a daydream charm bottle just for me, Sexy patient visits healer." said Harry. Greengrass narrowed her eyes.

"I was just going in to get more Hawaii holiday, and out the back room he's like… here this is for you," said Harry.

"Hmm," said Greengrass.

"And then he lied to me and told me I liked it last time," said Harry. He really hoped she'd understand.

"What?" said Daphne. "A patent falsehood. I am as real as you are."

"Well, yes, and George is a brilliant liar, and let's be blunt, we spent ages being in daydream Hawaii, before we got together," said Harry.

"You still dumped me," she said firmly.

"He told me in so many words that you never were the sexy patient. That it was all a potion messing with my head. And… the Hawaii potion has changed my life." said Harry.

"You wear loud shirts, and don't twitch like complete wreck," said Daphne.

"And some bit where you were quite pleased on the couch – repeatedly." said Harry.

"Hormones," she said.

"And after I dumped you, suddenly, I was welcome back at the Weasley household for Sunday lunch, when the ex was out of town."

"And?"

"Lunch, a bit of pickup quidditch, staring at clouds. And then the wanker says. 'Gotcha. Sexy patient daydream. The look on your face when I said you'd had it before. I nearly died laughing.'"

"What kind of monster does that to someone they like?" said Daphne stiffly.

"Well, Ron, his little brother, took pity on my nervous breakdown," said Harry.

"You had a breakdown?"

"I screamed myself hoarse, and drank far too much firewhiskey," admitted Harry. And Daphne smirked.

"Ron reminded me that the reason he has a spider phobia is when he was little, his twin brothers transfigured his teddy bear into spiders." said Harry. "Course, we did nearly die later, going into the forbidden forest to see the giant spiders when we were fourteen."

"That's stupid."

"Stupid and reckless was the story of my teenage years," said Harry. "I'm sorry I was fooled into breaking up, and you are awesome." Harry felt faint guilt at not exactly explaining the entire situation, but the essentials, she knew.

"I want to kill him," said Daphne rather mildly. Harry mentally agreed.

"Maybe not kill him?" asked Harry, because homicide was, well, legally inadvisable, and there was no way his lawyer would help Daphne.

"He must suffer."

"He's living with Angelina Johnson." Harry added, in case that helped. It had bugged him a bit after the war, but Angelina and George didn't talk about it, so Harry left it well alone. Like his lawyer, in future.

"Look, even I know she was dating the dead brother."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Ouch," she said. "That's um… strange," She looked at Harry and shook her head. "Have you ever done anything… regrettable," she asked, "Apart from the obvious?"

Harry thought about that for a bit and realized what she really meant.

"I um, dated my laywer" said Harry.

Daphne blinked at him. "Really?" she said.

"She um, is Ginny's cousin. They um."

"Oh god Potter, that's pathetic" she said. And looked at him smugly.

"Look, she um, saw you and that was the end of it" said Harry.

Greengrass brushed her hair back, licked her lips and smirked.

Harry sighed. That wasn't helping with her magically assisted narcissim. But, it was probably enough to prevent her dumping him. She started to look thoughtful, so Harry changed the topic.

"So, um, in terms of really regrettable things" said Harry, and she tilted her head.

"In the war, um," said Harry. "Bellatrix LeStrange had just killed my godfather. I tried to um. I failed, she demonstrated how to do it. So much pain. But… Voldemort was much better at it."

Greengrass's eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. "And apart from that?" she asked.

"One of the Carrows," said Harry "During the beginning of the fight. A few other dumb things," said Harry, glossing over a few Azkaban life sentences worth of crimes.

"Good, they were horrible people," she said.

"It was dumb of me. I was reckless and angry and … I would much rather go to Hawaii with you. Also, afterwards, go back to Hawaii after work every day."

"I thought you were going to say something else. Some sort of commitment," said Daphne, sounding more annoyed than usual. Then again, in most of his experience of her, she was usually hallucinating. Sober Daphne was a bit of a novelty, though she was markedly less tense than she'd been the first time he'd seen her. And the memory of that photo of her stripping, had him tense.

"Well, yes, obviously," said Harry, "But after a holiday. If we can't stand each other after two weeks on holiday, it would be pretty dumb." And, thought Harry, what if you've got a terrible jealous streak like Mafalda?

"You know, I've never got to choose a husband," said Daphne "What if I don't forgive you?"

"I'm hoping you will because you're kind and good," said Harry. And if her ears weren't suddenly pink from blushing, he was a goblin. Which he was pretty sure he wasn't as that would have made banking easier, post-war. The little … people… had taken most of the treasure and coins from his vualt.

"And my … less than savoury past?"

"You did what you had to do to make a living," said Harry, "I'd rather you didn't do that again."

"That's an acceptable sort of condition," she said. "I'd rather not, also. You're quite forgiving."

"I have been told that, yes," said Harry. "But you could be making miles more from your lending. You're being nice. You don't have to – just charge less than the other shops."

"They're in a very difficult situation," said Daphne mildly.

"You know 'cos you've been there," said Harry "Like I said, nice. Kind, clever, beautiful. Oh, and I like your sense of humour."

"I do still want to make George Weasley's life hell. Fair trade," said Daphne. "Does Johnson like you?"

"Um. I was sort of their mascot. The Foxes, that was," said Harry.

"I think," said Daphne "I might have coffee with her. Chat," she said, and smiled "because he hurt you and he hurt me. Arsehole."

"And you've outsourced revenge. Efficient," said Harry. Angelina would probably not think the prank was at all funny. Probably not dump him, but she had filled someone's hat with sardines once, and that sounded like a good start.

"When is your normal annual holiday anyway?" she asked.

"Starts seventeenth of June. Like School terms." said Harry. He shrugged "But I really only get three weeks."

"Hmm. I could see that. I'll talk to Tracey" she said.

"And are we good?"

"No. you're not good. You're a weak, gullible man and George Weasley is a monster," said Daphne.

"Weak?"

Daphne pouted at Harry and he stared. He was fairly sure he was remembering to breathe.

"God your eyes are wasted on a boy," she huffed, "One pout and your eyes bulge."

"It's very... distracting," admitted Harry.

"One thing I liked about the job was the feeling of power, controlling the audience." said Daphne, "you're possibly sufficient for that," she added.

Harry whimpered.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes, "I forgive you. Don't be dumb, Harry."

"Whew," said Harry.

"Whew?" and a lifted eyebrow.

"The tickets weren't refundable," he said.

"God dammit Harry!" she exclaimed.

Harry didn't mention that they were for the most expensive, luxurious resort either. It was the only real Hawaiian holiday he was getting, possibly ever.

It wasn't like he didn't have a backup plan, it's just that Daphne seemed, well, more even-tempered than Mafalda, and he didn't fancy a wife that yelled.