25

As Harry arrived at the Cracked Spyglass, it occurred to him that the fans might be considerably more intoxicated than they'd been the previous weekend. The match had lasted nearly three hours, and the beer and mead vendors had undoubtedly kept pace.

He was the first of the Cannons to emerge from the fireplace, and the reaction was so swift he almost thought he'd triggered a monitoring charm. 'It's Potter!' came the cry, and crowded pub exploded with cheers. Most of Harry's teammates emerged immediately afterwards, and the fans withdrew to give them room.

Janet was quick to spot Ron, whose head rose above the crowd, and Harry saw that Charlie was with him as well. A table was quickly vacated for them and for the other players who'd arrived.

'Where's Bellamy?' someone shouted, and a number of fans chanted his name as if that would somehow summon him. He soon emerged from the fireplace with Hermione in tow, and they found seats with Owen, Renée, and several others.

The crowd was somewhat less organised than last time. Harry scanned for the older wizard who had toasted them the previous week and saw him a few tables over, covered in mud and drinking beer straight from a pitcher. Numerous other fans were also covered in mud, prompting Darren to say, 'Told you so!'

The older wizard's mates eventually helped him to the top of his table, and after an initial failed attempt he cast an amplifying charm on his own throat. 'On behalf of the Chudley Cannons Official Fan Club,' he announced, 'it is my huge fucking honour to congratulate the best fucking Quidditch team in the whole bloody universe!'

The fans roared their approval and began chanting, 'Potter! Potter!' until the older wizard shot sparks from his wand to get their attention. 'And let's have a huge shout for the man of the fucking hour ... sorry, three hours ... Harry fucking Potter!'

The room shook as the crowd stomped their feet and banged their glasses in appreciation. The older wizard shot sparks again and continued. 'I don't know about you, but that had to've been the best bloody Quidditch match I've ever witnessed in my entire fucking life!' The crowd roared in agreement.

After an unsuccessful attempt to grab a fresh pint glass from one of his mates, the older wizard found his way down from the table and the room returned to its prior ear-splitting din. Darren cast a charm to reduce the noise level around their table so they could talk.

'I think they enjoyed the match,' he said matter-of-factly.

'You don't say,' replied Janet. 'Fancy that.'

'It was bloody brilliant,' exclaimed Ron. 'And you kept them to seven goals in three hours ... unbelievable!'

'I had some help from Snitchbottom over there,' she said. 'It's easy to keep the Chasers from scoring when someone keeps forcing turnovers.'

'Snitchbottom?' asked Charlie, and Darren and Janet practically fought over who got to tell the story.

'Blimey, Harry, your life has really changed in the time I've known you,' said Charlie. 'I'm glad to see things are finally looking up. Merlin knows you deserve it … That was some amazing flying, and then to catch the Snitch on top of it. Truly fantastic.'

'Cheers, that means a lot coming from you. I wish I'd had the opportunity to see you play at Hogwarts.'

Charlie started to reply but they were interrupted by an autograph seeker, which opened the floodgates. Harry was relieved that nobody gave him a photograph from the Prophet or Witch Weekly to sign, but instead gave him official team merchandise and photographs, or, in one case, his Chocolate Frog Card.

'Way to stick it to them lords, Potter. I'm glad you're still one of us,' said one of the fans, and Harry was touched.

After a while, however, he was impatient to resume his conversation with Charlie. During a temporary lull in demand, Harry apologised to his teammates and said, 'I know I'm shirking in my duty to the fans, but I'm going to cast a privacy charm for a bit. Merlin knows when I'll have the chance to talk with Charlie next.'

'That's fine,' said Darren. 'You caught the bleeding Snitch—I'm sure they'll cope.'

Harry cast the charm and turned back to Charlie. 'I'm sorry about that. We were talking about your own Quidditch career, and how I wish I'd seen you play. You were a legend when I arrived at Hogwarts—the highest praise I could receive was that I might be the next Charlie Weasley.'

'That's kind of you to say, but I was nowhere near the flyer you are.'

'That's not what I've heard. Apparently several teams tried to recruit you after you finished school.'

'There was interest, yeah, but I never attended any trials, so I've no way of knowing whether they'd actually have signed me.'

'Why didn't you try out? I assume you loved Quidditch, otherwise you wouldn't have played all through school.' Harry knew he was being pushy, but Charlie didn't look uncomfortable—he was probably just unaccustomed to being the main topic of conversation.

'You're not the first person to ask me that, particularly at the time. But you might understand my reasons better than most. Playing league Quidditch is more than just flying and teamwork—it's an entire way of life. I'm sure you're used to public attention, but I could never have been comfortable with it.'

Harry nodded. 'I can certainly understand the wish to remain anonymous, given the choice.'

'I'm sure you do. You never had the choice, I suppose, so in that respect there was nothing to stop you from flying professionally. If I'd been in your shoes I'd probably have done the same.'

Harry found it hard to imagine he'd ever let his fear of attention keep him from playing Quidditch, but then he realised he'd almost done just that. It hadn't even crossed my mind to fly professionally until that Prophet article came out, he thought. Why hadn't it crossed his mind? Furthermore, what other decisions hadn't he considered, for reasons unknown?

He glanced at the fireplace and caught sight of Hermione and Ryan preparing to leave. Looking at his pocket watch, he saw they'd been at the pub nearly half an hour, which he supposed must have felt like an eternity to Hermione. She was looking up at Ryan adoringly, and it was clear he felt the same way.

Ron had noticed them as well and leaned over to Harry. 'That's a weird sight. I hardly know what to make of it.'

'Are you all right?' asked Harry.

'Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad she's moved on. I can't say I expected it to happen this quickly, but I'm in no position to judge.'

Harry wasn't convinced Ron was as comfortable as he claimed, but he didn't press the issue. Seeing Ginny on the pitch had shown Harry just how little progress he'd made getting over her, in spite of everything. It wasn't that he didn't like Helena—quite the opposite, in fact—but he was disappointed there was no future between them.

No long-term future, he corrected himself. They had a very promising short-term future ... He was to see her in little more than an hour, and he'd planned a Muggle night on the town.

He talked a while longer with Charlie and the others, and he even dropped his privacy wards towards the end to permit more fan interaction. More than a few of the fans were wearing jerseys with his name and number, which they'd purchased at the stadium, and others were wearing t-shirts bearing the lightning bolt emblem Luna had designed. It was odd seeing his own name on somebody else's back, or the shape of his scar across the front.

'Look at this,' said Ron, pulling a small parcel from his pocket. 'I meant to show you earlier—it's a figurine, just like the Viktor Krum I bought at the World Cup.' The small figure of Harry was walking around the table, taking care to avoid stray crisps and a pool of spilt beer.

'Why don't I have a figurine?' said Janet indignantly. 'I need to talk to Darius straight away. Girls need role models too, you know.'

Darren laughed. 'You, a role model? More like a cautionary tale.'

'What do you mean? I'm a Keeper on a two-game winning streak, I'm dating a decorated war hero, and above all I'm a sparkling wit. They should bring me around to primary schools to inspire the next generation.'

'Wizards don't have primary schools,' said Harry. 'Do you mean Muggle primary schools?'

'Why not? I'm sure Muggles could benefit from my influence as well.'

'It wouldn't be much of an influence if someone had to Obliviate them afterwards,' said Darren.

'It would be subconscious,' she replied. 'They'd be inspired without even knowing why.'

'I think it's a brilliant idea,' said Ron, and she kissed him on the cheek.

'You're a shameless flatterer, Ron Weasley, and you shall have your reward. In private, mind you.' He stood from the table and pulled at her hand. 'What, now?' she asked.

'You brought it up,' he said, with another tug.

'Fine,' she said, rising. 'But I'm only doing my civic duty as a grateful Briton.' They made haste towards the fireplace and the others rose as well.

'Thanks again for inviting me,' said Charlie. 'I should head back to the Burrow ... I promised Mum and Dad a proper visit, through Sunday dinner anyway.' He looked at Harry and added, 'I'm sorry you won't be there. We were all hoping you'd be part of the family one day. Officially, that is.'

'I was too,' said Harry. 'But life had different plans.' Or vengeful Seers do, he thought.

They went their separate ways through the fireplace, and Harry returned to Grimmauld Place to prepare for his evening with Helena. It was a little disappointing to change out of his robes, but his new Muggle outfit—jeans and a fitted button-down shirt—was smart in a subdued way, and he'd be wearing his Doc Martens.

It was good to relax on the sofa prior to Helena's arrival. He'd flown like a maniac for three hours, and even though he'd paced himself it had still been demanding. But his stamina had increased in the last three weeks, and he was certain he could summon whatever energy he needed for the night ahead.

The appointed time arrived and he went to the formal fireplace to greet her. She was a couple of minutes late, but his patience was rewarded when she emerged.

'Oh my fucking god,' he said when he saw her. She was wearing a knee-length skirt, tall slim boots, and a very tight cropped shirt that would have been indecent if she weren't petite. But it wasn't her clothing that caught his attention. Helena was wearing makeup—Muggle makeup, which was far less demure than the cosmetic charms used by witches—and his entire being responded as she'd surely intended.

'Do I look all right?' she asked. 'I've never gone out like this before.'

'Do you look all right?' he said uncomprehendingly.

Truth be told, it didn't suit her. She was normally angelic looking, with strawberry-blond hair and wide-set grey-green eyes, and the dramatic makeup didn't really fit. But his animal nature didn't care—it just saw sultry eyes and wine-red lips, and he wanted nothing more than to ravish her on the spot.

'You look gorgeous,' he said, pressing her against the wall and kissing her hungrily. 'Oh my god, Helena, what did I do to deserve this?'

'You caught the Snitch, for one thing,' she breathed. 'Congratulations.' They continued kissing and during the next break she said, 'But I can't think of anything else.'

When they pulled apart he frowned and pressed his finger to his own lips. 'What is that? Did it come off on me? It felt sticky.'

'Lip gloss, and no, it's not on you. I had my makeup done at a salon, and they insisted shiny lips are all the rage.'

'I can see why,' he said admiringly. 'But it feels weird.'

'It does. The reason I was late was so I could charm it to stay put. It took a few tries to find the right spell.'

'You clearly found it. But we've another problem ... How can I possibly go out in public with you looking like that?'

She looked down at him. 'Yes, I see what you mean. That might be unwelcome at respectable establishments, assuming that's where you intend to bring me. But there are charms to take care of that.' She pulled out her wand.

'Slow down there, woman!' he exclaimed, staying her hand. 'There are rules when it comes to hexing a man's bits.'

'I'm not planning on hexing your bits, just your trousers. Didn't they teach you that at school?'

'No,' he grumbled. 'I suppose the other boys learnt it from their fathers.' He shook an imaginary fist at both Sirius and Remus but felt a twinge of relief that neither Minerva nor Madam Pomfrey had ever said anything. Or—Merlin forbid—Dumbledore.

She twitched her wand. 'Do you trust me?'

'I do,' he said. 'But perhaps you should teach it to me instead. "Give a man a fish," you know.'

'Yes, yes. But teach a man to fish and he can hide his erections forever.'

Once Harry was sorted, he looked again at her boots. 'Hang on, I distinctly recall telling you to wear sensible shoes. What are those, four-inch heels?'

'They're platforms, not stilettos. I can walk for miles in these.'

'Hmph. You're almost as tall as I am now.'

'That's not saying much,' she said, and when he scowled she laughed at him. 'I'm not with you for your height, Harry.'

'Then why are you with me?' he asked, with a gleam in his eye.

She looked at him appraisingly. 'Because you're pure power.' She traced his scar. 'Lightning ... it suits you.'

'I'm not a powerful wizard,' he confessed. 'Magically speaking I'm barely above average.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Maybe so, but that's not what I'm talking about. When you enter the room, everyone turns. When you talk, people listen. When you look at me, everything else falls away. You have that effect.'

He shrugged. 'That's just celebrity.'

'I don't think so, but I suppose we'll find out tonight. Where are we going anyway? Can we walk from here, or take the Underground?' She looked through the front window.

'We could, but the neighbourhood's a bit dodgy. It's improved a lot since we cleared the Dark magic from the house, but it's not what you'd call nice. No, I was thinking we could Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and walk from there.'

She frowned. 'I'm not sure I want to be seen there. Couldn't we Apparate somewhere directly?'

'You're clearly unaware I'm an expert with concealment charms. Or we can use my Invisibility Cloak—I'm sure we could both fit under it.'

'Can we travel by Floo inside the Cloak? Together?'

'Good point, no. But you can wear it, and I'll charm myself, and then I can slip under it with you when I arrive.'

'I like the sound of that.' She extended her arm. 'All right, Black, hand it over.'

'No, the Cloak is all Potter, as am I. Didn't you read the Prophet this morning?'

'I did, and I nearly spit out my porridge laughing. Though I probably shouldn't have told you that—it wasn't at all ladylike.'

'Yes, and I'm such a gentleman.'

'You most certainly aren't, and now the wizarding lords of Britain are cross with you. But my family had a good laugh over it—you're completely right of course, but they think you have a screw loose.'

'Oh dear, what do they think about the fact we're dating?'

'Er, I haven't told them.'

'Ah.' He felt disappointed somehow.

'It's nothing personal. It's just they'd have a million questions and make a big fuss over it and worry I'll wind up in the newspapers and start receiving Howlers and all the rest. It's easier not saying anything.'

'Then where do they think you're going at night?'

'Oh, they don't mind if I have a social life. My mother's Muggle-born, after all, and my father's side is European,' she said. 'Intelligentsia, which is a fancy way of saying they're not hung up about sex.'

'I'm glad you're not sneaking around ... That's a bit tawdry even for me. But have you told anyone?'

'Enough questions, Potter. Hand over the Cloak.' He pulled it from his pouch, which was concealed inside a special pocket in his jeans. 'Oh, this is nice,' she said, examining it. 'I've seen Invisibility Cloaks before, but this is extraordinary. Did you buy it recently? Who made it?'

He mumbled, 'It's a family heirloom.'

Her eyes grew wide and she exclaimed, 'Oh, right! How could I forget! Are you sure you trust me with it?'

'I wouldn't let you hex my bits, admittedly, but I can trust you with my Cloak between here and the Leaky Cauldron.'

'All right,' she said, pulling it on, and he Disillusioned himself. They each went through the fireplace and emerged in the pub.

He held out his arm to find her, and she whispered from several feet away, 'I'm over here.' He stepped towards her, away from the hearth, and reached for where her hand should have been. 'You cheeky bastard, not now!'

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I was aiming for your hand.' Her hand found his, and together they were hidden.

'I wish you could climb under here with me, but I'd be visible during the process. It would almost be worth it, though, just to say I've snogged someone in the Leaky Cauldron under a Deathly Hallow.'

'I think it's worth the risk,' he said. 'I can't say I took full advantage of the Cloak back in school.'

'What, were you using it to fight Voldemort instead?'

'Yeah, mostly.'

'That's just sad,' she whispered. 'Let's try to make up for it now.'

They crept together, hand in hand, to a shadowy alcove in the pub, and when nobody was looking she lifted the Cloak to allow him entry. He pressed his body to hers and said, 'Why have I never done this before?'

'I don't know, because it's brilliant. Can we move somewhere more visible? It hardly counts if we're hiding in an alcove.'

'Good point. What about that wall over there, next to the coat rack?'

'Perfect, let's go.' Their path was unobstructed, and in short order Helena's back was to the wall and Harry was up against her. She wrapped her arms around him and said, 'Position acquired. Commence snogging.'

They did, and the noise and clatter of the Leaky Cauldron made it all the more delicious. Until someone said, 'Oi, what's that pair of shoes? By the coat rack?'

'What, those Doc Martens? They look new ... They must belong to someone.'

'They're weird though. Kind of wavering at the top. Do you think they're defective? Oh wait, now they're gone again. Must have found their owner.'

Harry and Helena started laughing as soon as they were outside. 'Apparently you're taller than you thought,' she said.

'Or together we're fatter.'

'You really know how to romance a girl, Lord Black. How do we make ourselves visible again without starting a panic?'

'Easy ... the first foot or two in front of the Leaky Cauldron is hidden from Muggles. Just give me back the Cloak and I'll end my Disillusionment Charm.' They took care of matters and were soon walking towards the restaurant.

'You like Indian food, right?' he asked.

'Of course I do. I may be a witch, but I'm still English.'

'That's good, but if you'd prefer something else just say so.'

'No, Indian's perfect. What could be more classically English than listening to my paramour's Quidditch match on the wireless all afternoon whilst charming TARDIS-like trunks, and then following it up with a proper curry, just like the Elizabethans ate?'

'I'm sure you've got something muddled in there, but I can't say what.'

'Nonsense. I never make mistakes.'

Walking to the restaurant was an interesting experience for Harry. He was accustomed to moving through the Muggle world incognito, but Helena drew stares from all directions, and the only glances at him seemed to be in reference to her. As in, 'Now there's a fit bird ... What's she doing with that tosser?' He'd experienced this to a much lesser extent with Hermione, who was very pretty, but she didn't exude sexuality the way Helena was doing.

'I'd say you're more powerful than I am right now,' he observed. 'You could snap your fingers and any one of these men would fall at your four-inch heels.'

'It's just paint. I could be invisible just as easily, no Cloak required.'

'I find that hard to believe. I noticed you last weekend, after all.'

'You were looking for a beddable pair of witches so your mate wouldn't feel left out,' she said. 'Rebecca and I fit the bill.'

'Am I that transparent?'

'Of course you are. You didn't wave us over because of our clever repartee. That was just a nice bonus.'

'It certainly is. You're really remarkably fun—I'm going to miss you when you get sick of me,' he said.

'And why would I do that?'

'For all the reasons you haven't told your parents about us. The papers in particular.'

'Perhaps, but if I recall correctly, you were the one who said this was a fling. Did you really expect me to tell my parents I'm the latest notch on Harry Potter's bedpost?'

'Is my reputation that bad already? You're only the third, you know.'

'Really? That's surprising. I'd have thought all the girls at Hogwarts would have wanted a turn. Or were they all pure-bloods?'

Ginny was a pure-blood, he thought, but he knew that wasn't her point. 'No, I suppose there were girls interested, but you're forgetting the part where I was being hunted by Voldemort. It rendered me a bit oblivious.'

'You heartbreaker ... I weep for them. Pining for the Boy Who Lived, who wasn't aware they existed because he was too busy trying not to die.'

'That about sums it up. Sorry, I know I sound arrogant talking like this, but I need to bolster my ego right now, since everyone's looking at us like you're a goddess and I'm not fit to massage your feet.'

'You most certainly are fit to massage my feet. I thought we'd established that. But returning to our earlier topic, you have an appallingly short back-catalogue. And then that would make me your only casual partner, after Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.'

He shook his head. 'Hermione's like a sister to me. There's never been anything like that between us.'

'I'm sorry to hear it. I'd assumed you'd been together during the war. Mutual comfort and all that.'

'No, that was pure fiction from Rita Skeeter.'

'I'm not talking about Rita Skeeter. I was just using common sense. How on earth did you never give in, not even once?'

'Ron liked her. And she liked him. It took them ages to realise it themselves, but it was clear to everyone who knew them.'

'Fair enough. I gather they figured it out that winter?'

No, he thought, we had a Horcrux. Two if you include me. 'No, not until the final battle.'

'Are you serious? That's what I read in the Prophet, but I assumed it was up to their usual standard. But I'm prying, and that's not my intention. I'm just sorry you didn't have ... companionship during the war. You were denied every other comfort, after all.'

He was touched by her compassion. 'I think it was part of the larger picture, to be honest. I shouldn't tell you this, but a big piece of Dumbledore's plan was to keep me ... downtrodden.' Harry deliberately chose the word Minerva had used to describe him.

She stopped walking and turned to him. 'Oh my god, really?'

'I think so. Otherwise I mightn't have done what was necessary.'

'Offer your own life, you mean?'

'Yeah.'

This time she was the one to push him against a wall—or a storefront, to be precise. She kissed him passionately, and a passing stranger shouted, 'Get a room!'

'Piss off,' she muttered under her breath. 'He saved all your lives.'

Harry was overwhelmed. Part of him wanted to cry, and another part of him wanted to continue what they were doing. He was glad he'd charmed his trousers.

'Are you wearing false eyelashes?' he finally asked.

'Now there's an unexpected question. Yes, they applied them at the salon. They're a bit weird, no?'

'They are,' he said. 'And they tickle a bit. But they're sexy as hell.'

'Where's this restaurant anyway? The sooner we eat, the sooner we can proceed with our evening. Why couldn't your house-elf have cooked for us?'

'I promised you a night on the town—we're going dancing later. But the restaurant is just around the corner.'

'Good, my boots are killing me.'

'You said you could walk for miles in them!'

'Wizarding miles. That's about five hundred yards.'

'You'd better recover, because we're going to a nightclub after this. I did my homework and everything.'

'You mean you bought a copy of Time Out London?'

'Exactly. Which is more than most wizards know how to do.'

They arrived at the restaurant, which was chic and very crowded, and the host didn't acknowledge them until he saw Helena. 'I have a reservation, under the name Potter.'

'Yes,' said the host. 'But we're running a little behind. Do you mind waiting at the bar—we'll call you when your table's ready.'

'Of course,' he said, and they found a lone barstool for Helena.

'How did you make the reservation? Do you even have a telephone?'

'No, I used the phone at Hermione's house. I have a standing invitation, so I just pop in as needed, which is almost never.'

'Aren't you resourceful!'

'Perhaps, but they haven't actually seated us. So much for my overwhelming power.'

'The night is young. And besides, the host was male. If it had been a hostess, she'd have seated you straight away and pushed me down a staircase.'

'You really know how to paint a picture,' he laughed, reaching over and twirling a bit of her hair around his finger. 'My god, you're sexy ... I suspect I'll have to fight duels over you tonight.'

'In a pinch we can always Disapparate and allow the Obliviators to clean up after us. They've had a real lie-in since the war ended.'

'Not entirely,' he said. 'My Muggle cousin told me they turned up out of nowhere when he tried to impress some woman with stories about magic.'

'It's odd to hear you refer to your cousin ... You're always depicted as not having any family, but that's not actually true.'

'No, it's true,' he said soberly. 'I grew up with them, but they didn't treat me like family.'

'Oh dear, now I'm prying again. Please just change the topic if you prefer.'

'You're not prying at all. I'm the one who mentioned him. He's the same age as me, but we didn't exactly grow up mates. His parents—my mum's sister and her husband—spoilt him badly, and for years he was a real monster.'

'That's awful. Does he look like you? It's strange to imagine your spoilt Muggle doppelgänger running around somewhere.'

'No, we don't look at all alike. Hermione met him for the first time last week, when we bumped into him at a Muggle pub, and she couldn't believe we were related.'

'Then I suppose you are unique,' she said tenderly. 'I suspected as much.'

The host appeared and led them to their table, which was cramped and near the toilets. 'It's obvious what he's doing,' said Harry. 'He wants you to realise I'm not good enough for you, and that you can do much better. With him undoubtedly.'

'Yes, I'm certain he doesn't mistreat his house-elf. And perhaps he's a duke.'

'If you like, I can give him a chance with you by disappearing into the loo. It's right here, you know.'

'No, I require my suitors to be enterprising, like you were.'

'You mean by Vanishing all the chairs from the bar last weekend?'

'Exactly.'

They eventually placed their orders, and although the service was indifferent the food was good. 'Well done, Potter. You did a fine job reading the Time Out restaurant listings.'

'I take pride in my literacy,' he said. 'But I still haven't discerned a pattern in when you call me Potter, Black, or worse.'

'You mean Lord Black? Or have you other nicknames as well?'

'I meant Lord Black, but I suppose I do have another nickname. I'd hoped not to reveal it, but you seem to be drawing confidences from me.'

'What is it? I must know!'

He told her the Snitchbottom story, feeling embarrassed but also pleased to share it with her.

'Lord Snitchbottom? That is absolutely priceless. I can't believe you were foolish enough to tell me about it.'

'What can I say? I'm losing my wits around you.'

'It's the lip gloss,' she replied. 'I put a Mesmerising Charm on it.'

'That explains it,' he said, gazing longingly at the lips in question. 'When can we leave here? I want to be pressed against you in a dark and noisy nightclub.'

'You'll have to pay first, if the waiter ever arrives.'

The waiter finally did arrive, and although Helena made noises about contributing, Harry insisted on treating her. He paid in cash without waiting for change, just so they could leave more quickly.

'That was a scandalously large tip for such poor service,' she said as they walked out.

'Worth every penny,' he said, grabbing her arse.

'Unhand me, scoundrel! Or at least wait until we're at the nightclub.'

'It's just down the road, so we needn't wait long.'

They arrived at the nightclub, but there was unfortunately a long queue, so they took their places at the end of it. 'This wouldn't have happened at a wizarding nightclub,' he said.

'True, but then we'd have to dance to songs like "Do The Hippogriff," which is patently unacceptable.'

They waited for a while, and the queue was advancing, but they weren't yet near the front. 'Are your feet all right?' he asked.

'I'll survive, but I may have to resort to desperate measures once we're inside.'

'Hovering Charms, you mean?'

'No, I might have to remove the boots and tuck them in my handbag, and then charm my feet uncrushable.'

'That would restore my height advantage at least.'

She smiled wickedly. 'Bad luck, Snitchbottom—you've just given me a good reason not to. Maybe I can try a minor extension charm instead. If I can enlarge the inside of a trunk, I can surely add a little room inside my boots. I'll pop into the loo as soon as we're admitted.'

The queue continued to advance, and the doorman approached them and said, 'Miss, you're welcome to go in now if you like. No charge.'

'What about my date?' asked Helena.

'No, we've too many blokes already.'

She shook her head. 'I'll wait, thanks.'

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. 'You're clearly more powerful than I am. I'm sure you'll chuck me now you've seen what a fraud I am. Really, I'm no better than Gilderoy Lockhart.'

'Who's that?'

He laughed and explained, and they eventually reached the head of the queue. The doorman seemed to have forgotten his offer to give Helena free admission, so Harry paid for both of them to enter.

'I can see I won't be allowed to pay for anything with you,' she said as they walked through the doorway and up some stairs.

'No, my godfather encouraged me to squander at least some of his family's stolen assets, and this seems a perfect opportunity.'

'Shall we order champagne then? I'm not some cheap trollop.'

'If we can find a table,' he said, looking around. It didn't seem promising—the club was packed and every table had at least one other party hovering nearby. There was a less crowded VIP section, but Harry knew he'd no hope of being admitted there.

'No, it looks like we'll have to stand,' she replied. 'Would you excuse me, then? I need to duck into the loo and charm my boots.'

'Yes, of course. Can I get you something to drink?'

'I distinctly requested champagne, Snitchbottom. Aren't you listening?'

'I'm sorry, I got distracted again by your shiny lips. If you can invent a charm to duplicate that, they'll either award you the Order of Merlin or sentence you to Azkaban.'

'Interesting. This might be my ticket to getting on a Chocolate Frog Card. I hear you have one now.'

'Yes, I saw it last week, and it was shockingly accurate. I owled the confectioner my thanks and they sent me a whole case in appreciation.'

'Of Chocolate Frogs, you mean? What are you going to do with them?'

'I suppose I'll put them out at the party. I'll never get through them on my own, and Kreacher would be beside himself if I served them to dinner guests instead of whatever he's prepared.'

'That's a good idea—people can swap cards for old time's sake. Or perhaps you could unbox them all at once and force everyone to chase after them. It might serve as an icebreaker.'

Harry shook his head. 'No, I don't need to invite mayhem—it seems to happen on its own.'

'I imagine you're right. But go fetch my champagne ... I'm off to charm my boots.'

'Excellent. You can find me at the bar, where the bartender will surely ignore me.'

Harry's prediction was correct—the two male bartenders repeatedly ignored him in favour of voluptuous women and taller men. He was starting to feel invisible when he realised he was still wearing the non-magical equivalent to his Notice-Me-Not Charm. It had long been his habit to transmit a 'Leave me alone' vibe, ever since he'd first arrived at Hogwarts.

He mindfully lowered his boundaries and allowed some of the coiled energy in his abdomen to flow upwards into his chest and head. He felt himself expand, and something more powerful than magic began to radiate from him.

'This bar is impossible,' said the young woman to his left. 'Do you reckon we'd have a better chance if you lifted me up?'

'I'm willing to try anything,' said Harry. 'I think I've been waiting even longer than you have.'

The bartender approached him. 'What can I get you?'

'Please help her first,' he said, indicating his neighbour. 'But then I'll have two glasses of champagne.'

She ordered, and while the bartender was mixing her cocktail, she turned to Harry and said, 'Thanks, I owe you one.'

'Don't mention it, glad to help.'

When she opened her wallet to pay, she pulled out a card and handed it to him. 'I like champagne as well. Ring me sometime.'

He smiled at her, and she looked suggestively at him before leaving. Reading the card, he knew there was no chance he'd contact her—he didn't have a telephone, let alone an e-mail address—but he was flattered anyway. It was the first time he'd been hit on by a Muggle.

Helena returned just as the bartender was handing Harry their drinks. 'I see you made a friend whilst I was away,' she said, with a playful gleam in her eye. 'Are you going to invite her to your next Quidditch match? Or perhaps to meet your godfather?'

'Yes, I gave her my Floo address and everything. Kreacher is preparing a guest room as we speak.'

'That's a shame—your bed is shockingly large already. Did you choose it yourself?'

'No, it came with the house. I shudder to imagine its history, but at least we cleared the Dark magic from it.'

They found a place to stand that was far enough from the dance floor to allow conversation. She looked around as they sipped their champagne and said, 'I was right.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You're getting more attention than I am now. The club is crawling with painted tarts like myself, so I'm no longer interesting. But even the men are staring at you,' she said, indicating one.

'They're not staring at me, they're looking daggers at me in the hope I'll disappear.'

'We're about to find out,' she said. 'He's approaching.'

The young man she'd pointed out walked up to them and looked at Helena appraisingly. 'I haven't seen you here before. I'm sure I'd remember you.'

Harry looked up at him—the man was at least six inches taller than he was—and said, 'She's here with me.'

'Nobody asked you,' said the man before turning back to Helena. 'A girl like you can do a lot better than nancy boy over here. Come on, let's have a dance. Or I'll buy you another drink if you like.'

'Believe me, she's not interested,' said Harry. He consciously allowed more of the powerful energy to fill his chest.

'I want to hear what she thinks,' said the man. 'What do you say, love?'

She put an arm around Harry and laid her free hand on his chest. 'He's ten times the man you are. You have no idea.'

The man narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Harry, who could smell the alcohol on his breath. 'What makes you so special? Are you paying her or something? She certainly looks like she's for hire.'

'Apologise to her now,' ordered Harry. The man didn't reply and Harry said, 'You heard me. Apologise.'

The man gave Harry a shove and said, 'I don't like your attitude.'

Harry stood his ground. 'I'm not frightened of you. So apologise and then piss off.' He set his jaw and glared at the man.

After a brief staring contest the man turned away. 'Fine. I'm sorry,' he said to Helena. 'Whore.'

Harry's hand was at his throat. 'Wrong. Try again.'

Even though the man was much larger than Harry, he didn't resist or fight back. 'Sorry,' he mumbled and quickly walked away.

After the man had gone, a panicked Helena said, 'Harry, are you all right?'

'You're asking if I'm all right? I'm not the one he insulted—are you all right? You've gone pale.'

'I'm fine, that was nothing. But I'm glad it's over—I was scared he was going to hurt you. He might have had a knife.'

'I wasn't concerned,' said Harry, running his hand along her back.

'You should have been. You can't use magic here, after all.'

'I know, but they taught us hand-to-hand combat in Auror training, and I can do a wandless Shield Charm in a pinch, as long as I'm not running laps simultaneously. I could have managed things long enough for us to get away.'

'Oh right, I'd forgotten,' she said, and he felt her relax. After a moment, she added, 'That's what I was talking about, you know. Power. He was about twice your size and yet he ran off.'

'I've dealt with bullies before. That's the only thing that works. Mind you, I had to learn it the hard way.'

She looked at him, and her eyes—already sultry from the makeup and false eyelashes—grew darker still. 'I want to dance with you,' she said, straddling one of his legs. 'I want to go to the dance floor and do everything we can do in public, and then I want to Apparate to your enormous bed and do everything we can't.'

He could scarcely breathe but managed to ask, 'Are your feet all right?'

'Yes,' she murmured, pressing into his leg. 'They're brilliant. I added Cushioning Charms and everything.'

'Good.' He led her to the dance floor, where it was dark and loud, and together they were lost to the driving rhythms.