DISCLAIMER

I do not own any of the setting or characters contained in this story. Everyone knows Harry Potter and all sundry world setting and support characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money writing any of this, either. This is for fun and happiness and thank you, Ms. Rowling, for sharing.

Rated M for romance, adult themes, coarse language, and sex further down the road.

CHAPTER 1

Harry stepped out of the fireplace into his livingroom. Lights turned on, followed by the wall-mounted screen across from the sofa. The screen showed four different programs at once, but instead of a conflicting cacophony, none of those programs had sound. Instead, soft music played from everywhere and nowhere.

He flopped onto the sofa and lay back with a sigh, resting his head on top of the soft leather cushioning and just remained motionless for a few moments, letting the music soothe the snarl of frustration on his brow.

When his forehead was smooth again, he sat up and looked at the screens. Top left was news and weather, and nothing important was displayed. Top right was his stock profile, which was overall up another three points, despite several stocks closing lower today than they had yesterday. Lower left was his e-mail. He had four new ones, but he'd get to those while eating. Lower right was video of the Chudley Cannons vs the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry watched that for a moment, until it became clear that the Harpies were dominating again.

"Poor Chudley." He grinned ruefully as he stood.

He made his way through the arch at the end of the room and into the adjoining kitchen, and pulled a piping hot meal from the stasis cupboard. It had been a great idea to make the week's worth of meals on the weekend for easy weeknights. Yet another idea he'd stolen from muggledom. He poured himself a glass of water from the filter jug, and took his meal back to the livingroom.

"Storylondon boards, full screen." He told the TV.

He stabbed a piece of broccoli and ate it as he scanned the entries. There was a new chapter posted not three minutes ago by his favorite writer.

"Queen of Silvergreen, newest chapter." He said, and the screen displayed text. As was becoming increasingly usual, Harry read while he ate.

' Danielle bit her lip as she took her seat. Jim Harrison was front and center in the huge meeting hall, reading over notes in preparation for his proposition, and her heart ached to see him. He stood proudly as he pored over his notes, his formal robes draping perfectly over his lean, hard muscles. There were others in the room who were built similarly, it was true, but Harrison's raw physical attractiveness was just the icing on the the cake. Danielle had watched Jim from afar for a long time, as she supposed hundreds of other women had, but all they saw was what Jim wanted them to see.

Danielle saw more than that.

She saw his frustration as he pushed the ministry to change. She saw his anger at those so mired in tradition and comfort that they put lives in jeopardy over and over again. She even saw that his drive for change, his rise to power was not what they thought it was. Jim didn't want power. He didn't want fame or fortune like they all thought he did. No, Danielle saw through Jim's carefully crafted illusion. She knew that everything he did he did out of compassion and a driving need for justice for all, and it made her stomach warm and trembly every time she saw him. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to have his piercing green eyes looking at her.

"Get it together, Dani." She whispered to herself. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares while daydreaming.

Jim started his impassioned speech to the rest of the ministry, and she listened intently. Not only was it part of her job to evaluate the pros and cons of the proposal, Danielle also just loved his voice.

As Jim spun his message into a charisma-cocooned chrysalis, Dani noticed the board either half-asleep or feigning disinterest. The sight was not lost of Jim, either. Once, just for a split second, Dani saw his facade slip from his eyes. Sadness flashed behind those emeralds, only to be coated again immediately in confidence.

It cut her to the quick. He knew the board wasn't listening. He knew their positions were already decided, and yet he forged ahead like an unstoppable train anyway. She had to bite her lip again to keep it from trembling as her eyes stung and filled. She burned with the need to run to him, to hold him and let him know he wasn't alone, but she couldn't. She didn't. She kept her false mask in place and pretended to blend in, to go unnoticed, as she had been forced to do. She filed out of the chamber with everyone else when Jim had finished, and retreated back to her office to continue writing the story wherein she did all the things she desperately wanted to and couldn't. '

"Hang on." Harry said around a bite of chicken.

He re-read it, and shook his head. It seemed like the last paragraph was saying that the story was based on real life - and he couldn't deny the similarities between his own job and Harrison's. He also couldn't deny the similarities in character. If Queen of Silvergreen worked at the Ministry of Magic... Was she a real person, writing these stories , as her character did, to deal with things she couldn't change? Did he know her? She was in the Chamber during his Wizengamot speech, so she was a witch... and yet she was writing stories and posting them on the internet like a muggle.

Harry shook his head and relaxed back onto the sofa. The whole idea was ridiculous. She was probably writing about muggle parliament. Still, it might be interesting to meet her and find out.

He washed his plate and utensils and put them away, and as was habit, he retired to his study to go over his notes for the following day. The work normally kept his mind off Ginny, but he finished with no abatement. He pulled the framed picture of her from his desk drawer and smiled at it. They had had so much fun in the beginning. With the war over and Voldemort dead, it seemed as though the whole country had breathed a sigh of relief and the two of them had been celebrities for a little while. Ginny had loved that, and took to it naturally while he had borne it for her sake.

It took him nearly a year to put his finger on the difference between them while they bickered half-jokingly at first. The bickering had turned to a constant state of break up - make up, and then one day Harry had simply seen it for what it was. Ginny loved him, he knew that. He loved her, and she knew that. It simply wasn't enough. She lived for herself, and her plans for her future reflected that. Harry's Auror training and subsequent work had only reinforced how much change needed to happen, and it wouldn't unless he made it. It had come down to a choice between Ginny or making a better world where another Tom Riddle couldn't happen.

They parted as amiably as could be expected, they both realized that they didn't want to hinder the other. They were still friends, even if Ginny's schedule meant they didn't see each other much more than once a year.

He began to kiss the photo as he always did before putting it back in the drawer, but stopped instead. He shut the drawer, and put the picture on the wall shelf alongside the ones of Ron Hermione, the DA, and everyone else who had meant anything to him. He smiled at the collection of photos, and realized that he was finally over her.

He wrote a quick private message to Queen of Silvergreen on the Storylondon website, and went upstairs to bed.

Daphne stepped out of the fireplace and checked her wards and other defenses. It was habit, but a necessary one. Thankfully, everything was intact and hadn't been tampered with. She looked around physically, checking each room in her house before cancelling her illusion. The mousy brown hair uncurled and lengthened, becoming straight and blonde, her jaw shrank, her cheekbones raised, and her eyes went from mud brown to clear deep blue.

She sighed as she relaxed, glad to be free of the disguise, and hung her shoes on the rack in the closet. She pulled her business suit off and hung it back up in the closet, then unstrapped her wand holster from her thigh and changed into yoga pants and Motorslayer T-shirt. She pulled her wand from the holster and gave her suit a good cleaning and pressing, then re-holstered it and put it by the bed. Thankfully, she had taken good housekeeping's advice and made her week's worth of meals on the weekend and stowed them in the stasis cabinet. It was a tight fit when they were all in there, but definitely worth the extra time. She smiled as she pulled a plate of spaghetti bolognese out and sniffed the steam coming from it. It had taken a few months of awful meals before she had learned to cook well enough to actually eat what she cooked. It was one more thing she was proud of.

She ate sitting on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa so she could see her laptop better. Around mouthfuls of pasta, she checked her email and, finding nothing new, logged in to her storylondon account.

She had a new message from RedGoldSkr.

She almost blocked the sender immediately, but the username was one that had been following her stories for some time, so it was probably not spam. She shrugged, and opened the message.

' Dear Queen, ' it read,

' I want to preface this note with my heartfelt thanks for your writing, I have enjoyed every word. Thank you.

I also can't help but see the intelligence and care behind what you write, and I have become curious as to who you really are as a person. If you are amenable, I would like to meet for dinner and conversation at The Cove Club this Sunday at eight.

Please respond with your positive or negative, and if you are married (which I assume you are), please bring your husband along. If you married him, he must be an interesting person as well.

- Fellow writer and admirer, RegGoldSkr.

P.S. Table reservations will be under the name RedGold. '

"Hmm. That's a new way to get asked out I suppose." Daphne smiled.

Cove Club was public, but classy. Reasonably expensive but not extravagant, and invited her (non-existent) husband as well, so it was likely not an attempted knickerdive. Unless RedGold swung both ways, of course, which remained to be seen.

"Wouldn't be your worst date." She said. "Plus, it's not like you have to worry about being overpowered by a muggle, and really, what else would you do with yourself besides write stupid stories about pining for someone you can't have in a place where he'll never see them?"

Daphne sighed and replied in the affirmative.

Harry realized as he sat at the table that he hadn't ever really been on a date before. Not that this counted - Silvergreen said she would be coming alone, but that didn't mean she wasn't married or involved. He was desperately curious as to her identity; he hadn't lied to her, he had enjoyed every one of her stories over the past year or so. Especially the latest bit, that seemed like she had been watching him at work.

He sipped his glass of wine, suddenly aware from his inner monologue that he was being nervous even if he didn't really feel it. He thought about sitting on an empty beach, listening to the ocean for a moment until he calmed down.

It was another three minutes before the Maitre d' pointed a woman toward his table. She was about five foot nine, brown hair, with wide cheeks and a thick jaw. She wasn't unattractive, but it was a face that could blend in and be forgotten. He thought he recognized it from work, but couldn't actually place her. She came up to his table and flashed a smile.

"Mr. RedGold I presume?"

He stood with a smile, and shook her hand.

"Ms. Silvergreen -ah, excuse me- your majesty. Please, welcome." He indicated the table, and she seated herself, smiling.

"Commendations on your exquisite manners, Mr. RedGold." She inclined her head, eyes twinkling.

Harry inclined his head in return. "Thank you, your majesty, and thank you for agreeing to this. I have to admit I was quite nervous. I've never done anything like this before. Wine?"

"Yes please."

Harry poured her a glass. "I thought for certain you'd simply delete my message, knowing the internet as you obviously do."

She took a sip of the wine, savoring it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing.

"Oh, that's lovely. I very nearly did, if I'm honest. Once I read the message I knew you weren't just another internet slug. You chose this place, which is expensive, cozy, but very public. That alone shows you were serious, but to invite my husband as well shows you're not after my knickers - unless you swing both ways?"

"Life might be easier if I did, but no. Thoroughly heterosexual, I'm afraid." Harry grinned.

"That makes your message even more respectful. Not to mention there were no spelling or grammatical errors to undermine your considerate tone. Have you written anything on the boards?"

"Not yet. My job keeps me too busy. I have the makings of a story rumbling around the shadows of my brain, but I haven't put word to screen yet."

"That's a shame. You seem decent enough at writing."

"I have to write for work. Proposals, grants, policies, that kind of thing."

"Ah, that explains it. What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?" She took another sip of wine.

"I work for the Ministry. I can't say exactly what I do, but it's very cutthroat and frustrating most of the time."

"That makes it sound like you're a spy, you know."

Harry laughed. "I suppose it does. Nothing like that though. My weapons are pen, paper, and progressive ideas. The closest I come to spy work is driving by MI6 on occasion."

"Which is exactly what you'd expect a spy to say. Don't worry, Mr. RedGoldBond, your secret is safe with me." Her eyes danced as she grinned.

"Yes, well." Harry cleared his throat and looked around as though scanning for threats.

She chuckled, and he liked the sound of it.

They both took another sip of wine, and Harry was about to speak, but was interrupted by the waiter bringing their first course.

"Oh!" She said, "We haven't even ordered."

"It's chef's prerogative here. I ordered the five-course when I came in, I hope you don't mind."

"No no, that's wonderful, thank you."

Harry smiled and picked up his knife and fork, then paused. "I'm sorry, I should have asked if you have any food allergies?"

She put a forkful of her starter in her mouth and closed her eyes as she chewed.

"Oh that's delicious! No actual allergies, but I try to convince myself I'm allergic to junkfood."

Harry laughed. "Doesn't take much convincing if you ask me."

She lowered her head conspiratorially. "I have a weakness for good chips."

Harry leaned forward as well. "Don't worry, your majesty, your secret is safe with me."

She grinned back at him.

"If I might ask," She said when they'd finished starters, "What about my writing made you reach out?"

"You know, I've been asking myself that same question." He took a sip of wine. "Normally, you're a good writer, and I've followed your stories like they were movies in my head... but this last chapter - it was something else. It was like I was Jim Harrison, watching Danielle watching me through the screen."

"You identify with Jim, then."

"I suppose we have sort of the same job, but it was less about identifying with him than it was feeling the emotions present. I have to admit I don't normally go in for romances, but it felt real. Is it based on real people?"

She looked at him over the rim of her wineglass as though weighing her options.

"Based on, yes. Names and details changed."

"Are they people you know? There's a great deal of insight into Danielle's character. You must be friends at least."

"We're quite close, yes."

Harry nodded. "I'm interested, but I won't pry further. Supposed to be dinner and conversation, not dinner and interrogation." He smiled.

Her smile had begun to fall, but it returned when he said he wouldn't pry. "I appreciate that."

"Well, I wouldn't discuss my friends with some stranger either, were our roles reversed."

The second course arrived then, and neither waited to try it.

"I have to admit, I think I'm a little scared to start a story like that, knowing people will actually read it." Harry said.

"Mm. Definitely!" She agreed, "Scared the hell out of me the first time. I had to keep telling myself that nobody would read it - well, nobody important. If nobody was going to read it, why post it?"

"Is it a thrill to post? Is that why people do it in the first place?"

"Maybe. In my case it was..." She looked around, then finished what was in her wineglass. "Sod it. For me it was loneliness in the beginning. I had just moved to m...to London, and I was not having a good time adjusting. Writing stories was a way to deal with how I felt, and eventually I posted them just for reassurance that I wasn't alone."

Harry poured her another glass of wine.

"Thank you, that couldn't have been easy to share, especially not with a stranger."

She smiled at him. "As strangers go, you're not especially strange."

Harry laughed. "Thanks for that as well. I do my best."

"How about you? What draws you to ...internet boards?"

"If I'm honest, probably the same as you. I'm not a very expressive person. I tend to keep things bottled up until I explode - at least I have in the past. I like to think I've grown some." He took another sip of wine. "My ex and I parted on good terms a little over two years ago. As a way to get over it, I found losing myself in work was unsatisfying. When I came home I would read the boards to relax, and t turned out to be somewhat cathartic as well. Apparently there are a lot of people having trouble dealing with their feelings."

She put her hand on his, just briefly.

"I'm sorry. I guess there are more of us out there than we know." She flashed a smile at him. "Still, you're a nice enough bloke. I can't imagine it would be that hard to meet a new woman."

Oh they want to meet me, but they never see me, Harry thought.

"There never seems to be enough time." He smiled back.

The main course arrived then, and they busied themselves with it. The waiter replaced their dry, fruity white wine with a bottle of aged pinot, to accompany the salmon.

"This place is brilliant." She said as he poured her a glass of the red.

"Glad you like it." He smiled.

"I do. And it kind of makes me sad."

"Oh?"

"My family is old and snotty and doesn't have time for anything mu... anything new or different. The concept of trying a restaurant hasn't made it past the front gate yet."

"Now it's my turn to be sorry. I take it they're why you're here in London?"

She nodded. "They still believe in arranged marriages. Like it's the bloody middle ages."

Harry winced. "Ouch. I'm doubly sorry for that."

She smiled and waved a hand. "It's under the bridge now. I've escaped and I'm going to stay that way."

Harry held up his glass. "To escaping."

She smiled and clinked her glass with his. "Escaping!"

There were a few moments of silence as they ate.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you and your ex split?"

Harry debated for a moment what to say, if anything, then decided if she was open enough to share, he might as well.

"We were together from a young age, and we grew apart. We had love, but I think she was more in love with the idea of me instead of the the real me. As time went on, the things that became important to me weren't to her, and vice versa. We decided to break it off cleanly, before we started resenting each other and love turned to anger."

"Aww. That's nice. That's respectful, not just of each other, but of what you had between you . I've honestly not heard of that actually happening in real life before."

Yeah, I'm a storybook hero, Harry thought bitterly.

"I'm a relationship unicorn." He grinned sarcastically, and she laughed.

Her majesty took another sip of her wine, and just for a split second, her focus slipped. Sadness and longing shone out of blue eyes for just a split second, then darkened back to brown.

Harry's eyes widened. She was under an illusion! She was a witch!

He wasn't so bad for a muggle, really. Certainly miles better than any of the previous ones she'd dated. Did he consider this a date? Did she?

Dessert arrived, and the waiter took away the second bottle of wine. Maybe she'd had a touch too much.

"Nobody sees me for who I really am either." She said. "Always big sister or rebellious daughter or ministry flunky. Nobody just sees Daphne."

Did she really just say that? Shit!

"I see you, and it's a pleasure to meet you." He smiled at her again, and she was thankful he either didn't hear her name or was ignoring it for her sake. She hoped it was the latter, that would be really sweet of him. He had a really nice smile, too. Slightly lopsided, slightly sardonic, and it made his eyes giggle.

"This is to die for. Sweet without being too rich, tart and fruity, and completely lovely."

"You sound like a connoisseur of desserts."

"All women are." She pointed her fork at him with a grin. "Or should be."

He laughed.

He had a nice laugh, she thought. Genuine, and gentle.

"Though truthfully I never really noticed them until I ...came to London. It was a shock."

"They didn't have desserts where you're from?"

"Oh no, they did. Anytime I wanted. It just didn't mean anything. Starting out on my own, I took notice of not being able to have sweets whenever I wanted, especially not ones balanced for flavours by a chef."

"Ah, the old family you were talking about."

"Exactly! All the deliciousness in the world isn't worth what they wanted from me."

She finished the dessert and sat back in her chair.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you realized you didn't need to give it to them."

"Well thank you for that. You're very nice. I still have to look over my shoulder though, even though I ...came to London. Never know who might be working for them, looking for me."

"And you still came to meet me? Now I feel honoured."

"You should, I'm bloody brilliant."

He laughed again, and it was real mirth, not even a trace of his normal sardonicity.

"Not to feed the ego, but I think you're pretty brilliant too." His eyes were still laughing.

She realized she was overly warm in her cheeks, as she caught herself fanning her face with her hand, and stopped.

"Fancy a walk? I would like some air."

"I would love one."

He stood smoothly, and she realized he was quite tall, probably over six feet. His slim, muscular build and relaxed posture had hidden how wide his shoulders were as well. Daphne stood, and kept a hand on the back of her chair until the room stabilized again. Definitely too much wine. Definitely need some air.

He held the door for her on the way out, after thanking the staff and Maitre d'. The night air was bracing, and luckily not cold or rainy. They walked toward the river in silence for a few moments, and she felt more clear as they went.

"So was I all you imagined I would be?"

He smiled at her. "On the contrary, you were much more real and much nicer than I could have hoped."

"Happy to shatter your illusions, Mr. RedGold." She smiled up at him.

"Please, call me Harry."

"Well... that's a coincidence."

"Oh? Why?"

"Jim Harrison is based on a man named Harry."

"That is a coincidence." He smiled again, but his eyes held a knowing mirth.

"You were a lot more than I was expecting as well, Harry."

"Oh, I'm even more than that. And so are you."

She frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I mean we're both wearing disguises. Yours is absolutely brilliant, by the way. I didn't even notice until the meal was mostly over, and I'm trained to notice - hell, I used to teach other people how to notice."

"I'm not sure what you..." She began, getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.

He held his arm out to her, and she had a frozen second of indecision. Should she take his arm and risk him getting grabby? Should she thank him and leave, and risk missing out on seeing where things went?

"Fuck it, I'm a witch. If he tries anything I'll hex his bollocks off." She thought.

She took it the offered arm, and he led her down Waterson to a small park, lit by the streetlights just enough to be able to see, but still somewhat private.

"I mean this." He flicked his wrist, and there was a wand in his hand. He flicked it again, and it was gone.

Oh no.

She started to back away toward the street as she reached for her own wand. He held up both hands, palms out.

"Daphne, please. I had a great time tonight. I'd like to do it again if you're willing. I didn't let you know I'm a wizard because I'm upset, I did it to be fair."

She had her wand out and pointed at his privates.

"For the first time in a very long time, I feel like you have seen the real me, and it's because of this disguise."

What? That made no sense at all. "I don't understand." She frowned.

"When I let go of this illusion you will know who I am, but that isn't the real me. The real me is the one you've been gabbing with for three hours."

"I'm almost afraid to ask now."

He grinned. "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

She laughed. "So it was about my knickers after all."

He laughed in return. "Not that I would mind, but that's a different conversation."

She grinned despite herself, and stepped closer, wand at the ready. "Alright, you first."

He nodded, his eyes searching hers.

"Just don't freak out."

He waved his wand around his face, and then made it disappear again. He shimmered all over for a second, and then Daphne was staring into the piercing green eyes of Harry James Potter.

"Ohhhh noooo."

She had a wand holster on her thigh beneath her skirt, and she slipped her wand back in it before burying her face in her hands.

"No no no no..." She said, then looked at him again. "You can't be you! You can't!"

"That's kind of what I've been saying. I'm very much me, but nobody really knows me. Well, except Ron and Hermione, but they're much too busy these days."

"But...how?!" She demanded. "It's a muggle board! You should never have been anywhere near it! Morgana's minge, I'm going to die of embarrassment."

Harry suddenly looked dour, and she found it hurtful to see.

"Nobody knows this apart from Hermione and the Weasleys... I was raised as a muggle until Hogwarts."

"WHAT?! But! But! You're ...you! You're the Boy Who Lived!"

Harry smiled ruefully. "Don't I know it. I think a more interesting question is why you're pretending to be a muggle when you're one of the sacred twenty-eight, but I'm willing to wait until you want to say."

Daphne flopped onto the park bench and just stared at him.

"My head is spinning."

"Sorry."

"You suspected from the beginning, didn't you? That last chapter..."

"It seemed a little too coincidental, but at the same time, you were bang on, about everything."

"Oh I know. I'm Danielle."

"Is that your name or do you mean the character is written from your perspective?"

Daphne frowned. "Why would you ask such a-" She realized her illusion was still up.

Harry simply looked at her, eyebrows up, waiting.

With a sigh, she dropped her illusion, and with it, Harry's jaw.

"Daphne Greengrass!?"

Daphne looked up at him, shocked. "You recognize me?"

Harry laughed. "Of course I recognize you. There wasn't a straight male at school who didn't know who you were. I heard you disappeared after the war."

"I did. I would still be disappeared if not for you, here and now."

"Really?! But you work for- no, your illusion is good enough to fool me for two hours, it's good enough for the ministry."

Harry looked around at the streets, the streetlights, the cameras, and the people walking around.

"Do you want to do this in public or should we go back to mine?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, then relaxed. "I would say 'there's the knickers question again', but it's not like I'll be in any danger if I'm alone with you."

"Well... you were always beautiful. You didn't stop growing after school, either. I also happen to really like fit women." He grinned.

"Don't make me stun you, Potter."

Harry laughed. "How about I just leave it at 'you look amazing, Daphne. It's nice to see you again.'?" He offered her his arm again.

She stood and took his arm as they walked out of the park.

"I think I can accept that."

They walked across the street into the alley behind a row of shops, and Harry quickly checked for cameras. There were none, so he apparated them to his place.

They appeared in a courtyard with a stone fountain in the center. Stone table and benches sat either side of the fountain, surrounded by manicured grass and footpaths. The courtyard was surrounded on three sides by the manor house - made of warm, light-colored limestone with a smattering of ivy on the walls between the windows. A cylindrical tower topped with crenellations dominated the left corner of the house. Large bay windows dotted the second floor all around the courtyard, paired with several balconies on the third floor that overlooked. Several chimneys dotted the slate tile roof, and the right wing of the house held an open area on the third floor large enough to fit the great hall of Hogwarts on.

Daphne stared open-mouthed at the grandeur of it, and was further shocked at the swimming pool behind her, the private quidditch pitch beyond it, and the private lake beyond that. She spun in a complete circle and finished looking at Harry again.

"Don't move." He said, and she nodded.

He produced his wand from nowhere again, and made gestures in eight different directions.

"Okay, clear now."

"Isn't that a bit of overkill?"

"Maybe. Just because Riddle's gone doesn't mean there aren't those who want me dead."

He tapped her on the head with his wand, and she felt tingles cascade down her body. His wand disappeared again, and he unlocked the black oak door for her.

"Are there?"

"Four so far that have fallen prey to the overkill."

"What happened to them?"

"Stun, petrification, slowdown, confusion, disarm, silence, blindness, and immobilization in rotating sprays with overlapping fields of fire. After that, Azkeban."

"If you have all that going on, why bother to lock the door?"

"Those defenses are keyed to wizards and witches, not muggles. I'd rather not have to explain to muggles or their authorities what happened to the intruder."

"Makes sense. I have to say, I never expected this. This is absolutely beautiful! Where are we?"

"Potter Hall."

"I didn't know it still existed."

"It didn't. I spent my entire career as an Auror rebuilding it. Death Eaters had razed the entire place to the ground."

The foyer was a beautiful light blue-grey, with polished slate floors and white ceiling and trim. The sidetable in the hall and the bannister going up the stairs were of the same rich, dark polished walnut. The chandelier was a tastefully understated chrome and glass affair, with a lumos solem in the center.

"Wow, Potter!"

"Harry, please."

"I half-expected red and gold everywhere with Quidditch posters on the walls."

Harry chuckled. "I'm not fourteen anymore."

"So I noticed." She snuck a glance at his taut, muscular torso.

Harry led her into the livingroom, where the bigscreen came on and soft music began to play.

"This. This is impressive."

"Thanks. Care for a drink?"

She stood, watching the four displays on the screen. "I'd love a glass of wine, preferably something light, if you have it."

Harry chose a light sparkling prosecco, kept at forty degrees by spell.

When he rejoined her in the livingroom, she had already taken a seat on the sofa, so he handed her a glass as he joined her.

"So where do you want to start?" He asked.

"Start with what the numbers are in the top right there. What is that?"

"Well, it's after business hours at the moment, so it's a running tally of stocks I've invested in on foreign exchanges. During the day it shows domestic performance."

She looked at him blankly. "I understood the words, they were English, but I have no clue what you just said."

"You know about wizarding businesses."

"Of course, my father trained me from birth to be his successor."

"Muggle businesses aren't much different. If your father's business accepts money from another family, they've invested in his business and thereafter have a stake in its success or failure."

"Of course."

"Muggle businesses are like that but more complicated. They'll accept anyone's investment, and give out shares in return, millions of them. Each share carries a tiny portion of the percentage of the ownership of the business."

"Okay."

"I invested in dozens of different businesses over the years, based on how I think the business will perform in the future."

"Sounds a bit like gambling, if you ask me."

"Absolutely. There is an element of risk involved. However, I did my research into the nature of each and every business beforehand, and they haven't let me down yet. I've had to sell off all my shares of a couple of different companies before they started doing poorly or got out-competed by other businesses - but I had invested in the businesses that were out-competing them as well, so I still made money in the end."

Daphne pulled her legs up to her chest and sipped her wine as she looked into his eyes.

"You'd have made a brilliant Slytherin."

Harry smiled. "It was the hat's first choice."

"No!"

Harry nodded. "It's true. At the time, the only thing I knew about the school was that my parents had both been in Gryffindor, so that's what I asked for."

"What was it like growing up as a muggle?"

"I would love to be able to tell you what it was like to be a proper muggle, but the truth is I don't know. Hermione might be able to tell you, she was raised properly as a muggle."

"You were raised as a muggle but not as a muggle?"

"As a muggle, but not properly. Dumbledore dumped me with my mother's sister, Aunt Petunia. She's a squib, and growing up with my mother, she grew to hate magic for whatever reason. She, her whale of a husband, and their whale of a son treated me like a leper, like a freak. Ten formative years of being called horrible names, beaten, treated like a slave, and punished for accidental magic."

"Morgana's sake, Harry! How was that allowed?! Didn't Fumbledore even visit?!"

"Not once." He shook his head. "The only reason I was there was because Aunt Petunia was my last living blood relative, and there was a protection from it that kept death eaters unable to locate or harm me while I was there."

"Still. I'm surprised you're not completely mental. I always thought you were erratic in school, but had I known..."

"From what I knew of you in school, we were polar opposites." He said, his eye twinkling.

"Ice Queen, polar. Yay, well done you." She gave him a flat glare.

He grinned. "Sorry, couldn't resist. So yeah, first year was my first introduction to the wizarding world, and it wasn't just new and exciting and wondrous, it was freedom. I knew how to live as a muggle, I knew how the technology worked, but to me that world was a cupboard under the stairs, or making dinner, or mowing the grass. I loved mowing the grass, it was the only time I got outside."

"I can't believe that. I mean really! Tell me you at least went back and blasted the shit out of them after."

"Nope. As far as I know they're still all alive and healthy."

"Why?"

"Something Luna said to me at the yule ball one year."

"Lovegood?"

Harry nodded. "She said the worst thing you could do to a mean, petty person is leave them alone to be mean and petty while you live a good life."

"That's ...surprisingly wise."

"Luna's like that. She's brilliant and fun and positive and exceedingly observant."

"I should have spent more time with her in school."

"You were definitely not..." He motioned up and down her with his hand, "This person in school. Did you talk to anyone then?"

Daphne sagged some. "No, that's true. That's how I got my nickname, really. I hardly talked to anyone. Anything you said could be used against you, and likely would in Slytherin. I got an education apart from the school curriculum in detecting and avoiding traps, compromising situations, potioned drinks, and rape."

"Fucking hell. I thought you were all Snape's adoring little extended family."

"He only showed up when one of us was dumb enough to get caught. As long as you didn't get caught, there were no rules."

"I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known."

"There wasn't anything you could've done about it. I actually had it a bit easier than some of the others because I didn't interact. I kept my mouth shut and learned spells to detect spells on my bed and clothing and food, I learned how to ward my bed while I slept, and after that generally kept my nose out of it."

"Speaking of which - I've always wondered why you fought with us at Hogwarts against Voldemort."

"Now you're disappointing me. Think about it, as a Slytherin would."

"Okay..." Harry thought about it from her perspective. "In that environment... you knew what would happen if the deatheaters and their pureblood shits won and got their way. A win for Tom was a loss for you, and probably every other woman. So you fought for yourself by fighting against them."

"Got it in one."

"At the time I thought you were flip-flopping allegiances based on who it looked like was winning. Sorry."

"I imagine that's how it looked. You have the right of it though. A future filled with pureblood mania and tyranny was worse than a death sentence. Thank you for that."

Harry saw the noseless face again, right next to him, seething hatred burning in those eyes, that breath of contempt and corruption, cloying his throat with it as they spiralled through the air screaming.

"Harry?" Daphne's voice was small, tentative.

He smiled at her, but she could clearly see there was something going on.

"Sorry, memories." He smiled, but she could tell it was forced.

"Enough about school anyway, what happened to you after the end of the war?" She asked, changing the subject.

"I didn't wait for Hogwarts to be repaired, I took my N.E.W.T.s at the ministry and started Auror training a month after. I was eager to learn more, to learn how to defend myself properly. I thought they would know better than anyone."

"I sense a 'but' in there."

"Too intelligent by half, Greengrass."

"Really? You're going to call me by my last name after going on a date?"

Harry smiled. "Daphne."

A shiver ran up her spine. She liked the way that sounded on his voice.

"But?"

"But they didn't. Not really. I learned what they had to teach, and it wasn't enough so I went looking elsewhere. I learned muggle martial arts and the history of muggle warfare, and combined the two. When I became Head Auror two years in, I implemented a new training program."

"Based on muggle tactics?"

"Somewhat, yes. I learned the ways the Aurors had for silent and wandless spells and combined it with physical martial training. That, and the Auror division had no training in place, no protocol for team tactics."

"That explains your knuckles."

Harry looked at his own knuckles. The first two were larger and harder than the second two. Daphne's were the same.

"You're pretty observant yourself. What got you into it?"

"I first tried it because I thought it might be a way to keep fit and maybe meet a friend or boyfriend. I fell in love with it though. I found after a month or so of just dying in training I got faster and sharper and my mind got faster and sharper. I wish I had known about it from childhood, things might have been different."

"Did it? Get you a friend or boyfriend?"

"At first, yes. Then as time went along the friends wouldn't keep up, wouldn't apply themselves, and seemed more interested in the men. The men acted like it was their club and they tolerated the women there because we had tits and ass. It was a lot like school, and that made me angry."

"Sorry."

"What are you apologizing for, you weren't there."

"On behalf of the idiot portion of the male species. They embarrass the rest of us constantly."

Daphne smirked. "Like your best mate."

Harry nodded. "Thankfully he grew up a lot the last year of school, and thereafter. He pulled his head out during our years as Aurors."

"Good, I'm glad for Granger's sake. Are they still together?"

"Married, actually."

"Are they happy?"

"I think so. Every now and again something crops up, but that's to be expected."

"Lucky. I'm sorry Harry, I was trying to avoid it, but it's gnashing at my brain. What was the deal between you and Vol - between you and Riddle?"

Harry looked at her over his glass, then took a quick sip and put it down. It was over now, what would be the harm in telling?

She could react like Ginny did, that's what.

Won't know til you try. Besides, if she doesn't, that's a major hurdle gone. If she does, you've only lost one evening.

He nodded. "Alright, but let me preface by saying that the ministry would like to keep all this under wraps so that nobody ever knows, so technically I'm breaking the law by telling you and you'll be breaking it by knowing."

"I break the law on a daily basis, Harry, defrauding the very ministry that would hunt me for it. If you're willing, I'm already an experienced criminal." She sipped her wine with a grin and expectant eyes.

Harry smiled. "Alright, but if you die of boredom, I warned you."

"Quit stalling."

He had to chuckle at that.

"There was a prophecy - a true prophecy, not fluffy handwavery - that said a wizard would be born who would destroy Voldemort. In the prophecy, it said that Voldemort himself would mark the child who would be his destroyer. What I didn't find out until much later was that there were two candidates for the prophecy, not just me."

"Who was the other one?"

"Neville Longbottom."

"Get out! Longbottom was almost the boy who lived?"

"Apparently. Unfortunately for me, Voldemort chose to come after me first. He killed my father, and then came after me, but my mother stood in his way, knowing he would kill her."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. So he killed my mother, but her sacrifice to protect me invoked the oldest magic of all - love. So when he turned the killing curse on me, it rebounded on him and gave me the scar."

"So that's why."

"That protection was carried through blood, and was why Dumbledore gave me to the fucking Dursleys."

"At least you know your parents loved you." Daphne sighed. She flashed a self-deprecating smile over her wineglass as she took another sip.

"Cold comfort when they're not around. So how did you end up as a muggle - well, not really a muggle, since you're working at the ministry?"

"Not much of a story, really. Father accepted a marriage contract for me from the Notts. They're hunch-backed, slimy, death-eater lickspittles, so I ran away. Father would never expect me to live as a muggle and would never look for me among them, so it's the best place."

"And yet you work at the ministry?"

She made a sour face, as though she'd kissed a grapefruit. "Living as a muggle is hard and unrewarding. I did it for nearly two years, but the jobs I could get didn't pay much and living was scraping by. After watching a movie one nght, I came up with the idea of being someone else in the wizarding world. I knew I'd never manage it if I tried without help - the Aurors and you in particular would notice an illusion immediately. So I spent most of another year crafting this."

She pulled a locket out of her blouse and dangled it for him to see. It was silver, polished, and shaped like a butterfly.

Harry used all his magical senses to get a read on it, but came up empty.

"That is a beautiful piece of work. I can't get anything from it."

Daphne grinned hugely and tucked it back into her blouse.

"Non-detection, for the most part, combined with excruciating attention to detail for the illusion of my alter-self, and just a ghost of notice-me-not. Which begs the question - how did you see through it?"

"I didn't. It was just a flash, just a split-second at dinner, maybe you'd had a bit too much wine too quickly, but I know an illusion when I can see it."

"So you knew there was one, but that's all?"

Harry nodded, and sipped his wine.

"I'll have to fix that later then."

"I'll help, if you like."

Daphne stared at him, mock-shocked.

"Mr. Potter! You would assist a fugitive in subverting ministry rules?"

Harry laughed.

"I've been subverting ministry rules since I got there. It's my whole mandate to change the laws in general, I thought you knew that."

Daphne laughed, and Harry loved how it filled the room with life.

"Harry Potter, famous hero and secret subversionary. I love it."

"Says the Slytherin ice queen"

"Oh absolutely. I really wish you had been there too, now. I was a frightened child, Harry. What I wanted - what I needed - was friends. You don't find friends in slytherin."

Harry smiled at her, understanding. "Well, you're technically right since you're out of school now, but if you weren't, I'd be proving you wrong."

She reached out and touched his shoulder, and a ripple went through him, of recognition and desire. He hadn't noticed until she had touched him, but it had been a long time since anyone had. He missed it.

"That's lovely of you to say, Harry. Really, that means a lot." The look in her eyes reflected his own longing. "It ... feels so nice to just be myself for a change." Her eyes became glassy with extra water, and she blinked it away.

"I know exactly what you mean." He smiled, and held his glass up to her. "To being ourselves."

She smiled as well, and it made her eyes twinkle. "Being ourselves." She clinked her glass against his and took a sip. "So what's this subversion at the ministry? What is it you want to see happen?"

"Ultimately I'd like to see an end to the corruption and maneuvering. I'd like to see fair, impartial, unbiased decisions made for the benefit of all. An end to the medieval nonsense."

Daphne laughed. "Don't want much, do you?"

Harry smiled at her, sardonically again.

"No, I know it's a pipedream. I'll try my damndest though, and keep trying, and hopefully inspire the next generation to do better than we did, and so on and so on. It will take more than just a muggle-raised dreamer to make the world a better place, but if I can leave it to my children better than it was when I got it, then I'll have done enough."

Daphne bit her lip and schooled her face, but her eyes filled and tears spilled onto her cheeks.

"You alright?"

She nodded, still biting her lip, and closed her eyes as she wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. Harry handed her a tissue from the box on the sidetable.

"Thangyu." She sniffed, and blew her nose into it.

She held it in her open palm when she was done with it, and it vanished.

"That..." She said, getting her breathing under control, "Is something worth fighting for."

"How about you? Any grand designs?"

She barked a laugh as she wiped away the last of the tears. "I wasn't looking beyond my own survival until just now. The farthest I'd gotten was asking you to show me how to make money like you do, with the muggle businesses."

Harry grinned. "Hey, it's a start. I'd be happy to show you."

"Thank you for that as well. It would be nice not to have to worry about it."

"That can be accomplished fairly quickly, I think. How much do you have to invest?"

"I managed to escape with a few thousand galleons I had saved up for the purpose."

Harry did some quick math. "Alright, if you invest say ten galleons each into the stocks I've found to be the best performers... you should be able to double your investment in five years or so."

"That long?"

"Afraid so. It's much faster if you have more to invest initially because it's a percentage return on what you invest. Eighteen percent is the highest I've seen."

"Oh."

"If you add when you get back to the initial amount you invest, then you grow it faster. Besides, the equivalency between euro and galleons is substantial. One galleon is worth just over a thousand pounds."

"A thousand!"

"So you'd be investing over ten thousand pounds in each stock, which at a modest ten percent return would make you another thousand each dividend cycle. Reinvesting the dividend would mean ten percent of eleven thousand, then twelve thousand, and so on."

"So the longer you keep it there, the more money you make."

"Yes, that's it."

"So really you're better off just forgetting about it until you're old."

"It still needs managing, but yes, it's a long-term thing. I won't insult you by asking if you can keep a secret, because you obviously can, so I'll just say it: I've been speaking with the directors of Gringotts to set up a small wizarding exchange so we can do the same thing with galleons."

"That's brilliant!"

"Maybe. Goblins don't have computers or networking as far as I can tell, so I'm waiting to see what they can come up with in that regard. I've given them the idea and shown them how the muggles do it, and provided a portion of my own reserve to starting it up, so hopefully they come up with something workable."

"Still, that's a hell of a thing. If anyone can figure it out, it's them."

"They were all very dubious until I told them about the brokerage fees. Then they couldn't hear enough."

"What's a brokerage fee?"

"Well, the ones offering the service of investing and moving the money around don't do it for free. They're called brokerages, and they charge a tiny fee for every transaction you request, whether you buy stock or sell it, so they make money whether you do or not."

"Oh. Yeah, that would do it."

"Hopefully they can figure it out soon. I don't want to be too old to make use of it."

"I'm sure your kids will romp all over it if you ...oh Merlin's ballsack, is that the time?!"

The television displayed 01:34.

"I guess it'll be a two coffee day tomorrow."

"Shit shit shit." Daphne put her mostly empty wineglass on the coffee table and stood up.

"Can you apparate?" Harry asked.

"Not into my place, but yes." She took a step toward the door, then a step back toward Harry, then more steps toward the door, then looked back at Harry. Harry hurried to follow her.

"I meant are you alright to apparate, you're not going to splinch yourself, are you?" He walked her out the back door to the apparation point where they had arrived.

"Oh. No, I'm fine. I might have made a hash of myself earlier, but I'm alright now."

"Okay good. I had fun tonight, Daphne, thank you."

She smiled up at him. "Me too, Harry. A surprising amount, considering it's also the most embarrassed I've ever been in my life."

Harry laughed. "I look forward to the next time I get to embarrass you then."

Daphne looked into his eyes, and kissed him soundly as she ran her fingers through his hair. Her mouth was soft and warm and wonderful. He felt himself start to respond, but she broke the kiss and took a step back.

"Friday. I'll let you know where you can pick me up." She winked at him, and was gone.

Harry went indoors and got ready for bed, and couldn't stop smiling.