Love adrift, c’est la vie.

There was a violent crash from outside of the bedroom door, and Harry Potter disengaged from his intimate kiss with Gabrielle Delacour. A wry laugh escaped his lipstick-stained mouth as they listened. “Ah, I don’t suppose that’s your pet hippogriff?”

She gave a disparaging sigh in her native tongue. “Merde. Father has found us, Harry Potter,” she added in English. She reached toward the nightstand and her wand, but Harry spoke up before she could renew her protections on the door.

“Well, that racket is a bother. I suppose I ought to do something, since you’ve already gone to so much trouble tonight.” He might have smirked then, although she hardly needed his reassurance, by the way that her eyes lit up. She reclined against the pillows again.

“A splendid suggestion, Harry,” she encouraged.

With that, he reached into his jeans and drew not his holly wand, no, for this previously clandestine rendezvous with the Beauxbatons' alumni had required the utmost care to facilitate, and as such he had brought along fifteen inches of dark elder wood should he so need it, which he now flicked behind them in several lazy motions. Downright sloppy, even, if he were being honest. Professor McGonagall and Flitwick would have been ashamed at his application of their fields here.

‘But then,’ Harry reasoned, ‘when one is chaining together a handful of spells and charms, a little err around the edges is to be expected’. And this was for a good cause, after all; he couldn’t leave his favorite fling disappointed with an early night of just snogging.

The result of his wand-waving was that the little-used guestroom in which he and Gabrielle had met quieted at once with a series of stern pops, essentially sealing them inside of a comfortable, impenetrable box; Monsieur Delacour would not soon be disrupting their activities again, short of bringing the entire grounds down in the process. Satisfied that their privacy was thus reassured, Harry tucked that wand away and went back to work on the lovely, impatient witch beneath him.

Some few hours later, he laid back in the battered bed and ran a hand through his slick hair.

‘Thank Merlin for fireproof elixirs’, he thought. When she hit the high notes, her heritage had truly shone, and while he had never minded a few curiously placed feathers after the first appearance, the occasional fireball no longer surprised him. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t been so quick to apply flame-freezing charms to the pillows, to which there was more soot than fluffy down at this point.

Next to him, Gabrielle gave a contented sigh in her wholly-human state again and snuggled closer to his side on what remained. Her hand traced his back. She said nothing further about his skills, having already sang her approval to the disapproving yet blessedly Muggle artwork staring down at them from the ceiling, and Harry was quite pleased himself at a job well done; he may have slacked in all other respects of his magical life, but it was his solemn duty as the godson of two Marauders to make sure that he never left a romantic interest disappointed.

He yawned then, and idly looked over to what used to be a door. The entire wall had turned a wonderful shade of pink as the estate magic battled his magic and came up the worse for the prolonged siege. Perhaps, if he gave it half another chance and turned in for the night beside Gabrielle, Monsieur Delacour’s efforts might bear fruit, though he rather doubted anything in recent times could defeat what the elder wand wrought.

'I really should do something, though.' An ounce of protection and all that. He'd been caught by an irate father once-- and only once, mind you-- in his career of Casanova-ing these past several years since graduation, and he still had the scars underneath his sweaty concealment charms to prove it.

“Gabrielle, I have to go.” She made a quiet noise of complaint without opening her eyes. “As fun as the last few hours have been, and I know that you agree with me there, we really should be on our way before your father gets passed my defenses. And if he brings in the entire Ministry, well, it doesn't matter how good I am with my wands--” she giggled and he laughed and kissed her brow, “--a solid cursebreaker will have my magic down sooner than later.”

“Ta Gueule, Harry,” she said with that ever so lovely accent that made even curses sound delightful, but there was no venom behind her tone as the phrase usually invoked. She sat up and draped what was left of the sheets over her modest bosom, and from behind her pale locks, soft blue eyes stared into mild green. “Can’t we simply cuddle longer?”

“If only we could.” Yet he did lean forward and wrap her up in his arms, and he bent to kiss her one last time. It was a right shame to leave such a sweet woman while the night was still young, but this was hardly their first tryst over the past year, only the most dangerous, being in her family’s summer home. There would be other occasions to spend all night together.

At last, it was she who leaned back, offering him a pout. “Hurry then, Harry Potter, before I change my mind and throw away all sense of caution tonight.”

-////////

‘Mysterious Beau Baffles Beauxbatons’ Best, vexes Minister for Magic Beauregard Delacour and belabored Aurors in magnificent midnight flight from capture.’ Harry read the next day from a secluded wizarding cafe in Tours. He shook his head. ‘That was a tighter escape than I would have liked, and a hell of a lot flashier than I should have been. I knew he was overprotective, but bloody hell, a cadre of eleven Aurors stationed across the grounds? I should be grateful there are no mentions of the Statute of Secrecy, even by their relaxed standards, but either way, I won’t be meeting with Gabrielle for the foreseeable future.’

He sighed. Next time-- if there was a next time-- they would have to actually be cautious in their approach. Perhaps somewhere in Scotland would suffice, though that might be complicated if her father called in any favors from Rufus Scrimgeour-- the old lion had a few too many connections around the world since taking up the reins in the United Kingdom eight years ago.

As for how a local magical print had gotten word of his late night exploits, he had raced through the streets of Paris like a crazed Golden Snitch last night. Though perhaps a Bludger would have been more accurate. That his identity wasn’t mentioned meant that the French Ministry either hadn’t worked out anything from his spells and more importantly, the wand he had wielded, or else they were keeping mum on the matter.

He was rather interested in finding out what it was once he was safely across the border and out of Monsieur Delacour’s immediate reach in a few more days. No doubt they were tracking hurried departures-- after all, the English Minister had done so, though if he was being fair, that had been during the height of the old war and during the cleanup afterwards.

He quickly shook off the trip down memory lane and unhelpful musings and folded the paper over when he heard the waitress approaching behind him. “Ah, The Bastard Press,” she said knowingly from over his shoulder. “Do not be embarrassed by your interest, Monsieur. They are always reporting what better papers will not, snuffling around in the refuse for another Bezant, but it is good gossip all the same.”

“I hadn’t known,” Harry said. “Though with a name like that, now that you’ve said it aloud, it really should have been more obvious. I’m afraid my French is a trifle rusty. So I take it this article is not to be accepted at face value?”

“Oh no, no. If you would like factual news, you should pick up The Towering Sights.” She leaned over and flipped the article out beside his plate again, so that she could better read the rest of the headline. Harry kept his gaze strictly on her pale oval face the entire time, rather than more intimate revelations made by her blouse.

“Mm, well, even they can find a glimmer of truth on occasion. I overheard the Aurors prowling about this morning,” she said after another few moments. She did not notice the way his expression sharpened. She collected his empty dishes, and would have turned away as soon as she stood had he not come to a silent decision and spoken.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t mind hearing what is truth from embellishment, if you have a little more time.”

She paused and gave him an assessing once-over as he turned around to face her. The edges of her lips drew up, though she downplayed the smile. “You are handsome enough, I suppose, Monsieur…?” she trailed off.

“Lupin,” he supplied, borrowing from Remus as he often did when abroad. “Harry Lupin.”

“Very well, Monsieur Lupin. I finish my shift at sundown. If you are still here by then we may chat over dinner at a suitable restaurant.”

‘That’s later than I had necessarily wanted to stay in Tours… but I suppose I can delay. I’ll get some more answers in the meanwhile if I’m careful, and Gabrielle certainly wouldn’t tell me to ignore this opportunity.’

Conscience suitably satisfied, his eyes scanned her in turn, though he found no name-tag in sight. She did not seem to mind. “I’ll be here, Miss…?”

She smiled fully now. “Oh no, no, I do not hand out my name so easily, Monsieur Lupin. Not before the first date, with a man I have just met.” And on those parting words she walked away, leaving Harry to gape at her back until she had vanished into the kitchen.

He finally shook his head. ‘It isn’t often that someone gets the better of me.’ It was safe to say that his interest in her had just risen.

-////////

“So,” his new date said after her first sip of wine that evening. She had transfigured her work clothes into something more suitable for their location here at The Gossamer Swan, a dark blue gown to compliment her sweeping brunette hair, which when let down as it was now framed her face and highlighted her dark grey eyes. “Are you typically so inquisitive, Monsieur Lupin, or was it something more which drove you to ask this afternoon?”

Harry had likewise replaced his everyday traveling clothes with a comfortable black suit, albeit with more care concerning his wand. He had seen the same men which she had mentioned during his afternoon scouting, and it was at times like these that he regretted having such utmost confidence in the elder wand that he had left holly behind in his London flat.

Well, there was nothing to be done for that right now. He looked up from his goose, though his hands continued their work with knife and fork. “Not normally, no. It was your eyes. You have a certain sparkle in them when you notice something that interests you,” he said. “First with the paper, and then, as I had believed, when you assessed me. The eyes are the windows to the soul, if I may be so drab.”

Her pale lips pressed together, becoming a thin line, and she stared at him as if saying, Did you really use that old line?

“No, I mean it.”

“Oh?” she uttered softly.

“I find that sparkle quite endearing. You also put me at ease regarding the newspaper. As I said at the time, my French isn't quite up to what it should be for a tourist in this breathtaking country, so the brand took me by surprise, Salaud-something or other. I only really bought it because I recognized the Minister's name in the headline from that good-will tournament years ago. I am also curious about the Aurors, since I hadn't known they were put to such menial tasks as chasing after illicit lovers in the night.”

She took another sip of her wine and then set her glass down to begin on her plate of saucy escargots. Between bites, she mulled his words over, and finally said, “I’ll accept the compliment. As for Minister Delacour, he has his eccentric moments, Monsieur Lupin, though he does well by our people overall. I had thought they were after a dangerous criminal by the noise in the alleyways outside of my apartment.”

“So they really aren't much different from our own, that is good,” he said. ‘And if they are soon distracted by more pressing concerns, all to the better,’ he thought to himself. He speared a sliver of dripping breast on his knife and chewed. When he had swallowed, he continued, “Would you believe me if I said that I was once a part of the English Aurors?”

“No!” she exclaimed, laughing at once. “For one, you are too easy on the eyes. I have met with Aurors before, it does not matter which country they serve, they are all too old and scowling and dull.”

“Well, I did meet a few who could have cracked a mirror at a glance.” He paused to drink, saying afterward, “I wasn’t active for very long at the turn of the millennium, however. I was recruited straight out of graduation, based off of my work in school, but I only really learned a few matters during my brief service before I decided that I had other things I wanted to do with my life. Like taking mysterious foreign waitstaff for grandiose dinners, while patiently teasing them for their name.” He looked up at her and offered a casual grin.

“Oh, but two can play that game, Monsieur Lupin,” she countered at once. There was emphasis upon his supposed last name, and that glint in her gaze confirmed what his face must have shown, for she said, “I have heard false names before. There is always a subtle difference. You are most certainly a Harry, but a Lupin? No, no.” She stared at him, the faintest tilt of her lips showing that she was neither offended or, in truth, even very upset.

“I can’t say I’m not surprised. Was it really that simple?” he asked.

She raised a hand to her mouth to hide her own satisfied smirk, now. “To borrow your phrasing, Monsieur Lupin, you have only confirmed what I had believed.”

Harry closed his eyes with a quiet groan. “That is twice today that you have outstepped me, miss. I fear a third time is imminent. And I still have not heard what you would like to be called.”

“Sophie,” she answered evenly. “A first name for a first name.”

He looked at her again. At least he did not gape. He quickly pressed on, nodded, and raised his glass toward her own. “To first names, then,” he said, and they clinked. He drained his glass and poured another, though she declined the offer to top hers off.

For the next several minutes, they simply dined in a comfortable silence. At last Harry said, “This may be bold of me to presume, but would you like to continue at your apartment? I’m content to wait for a second date, however, if you’re satisfied with tonight.”

Sophie hummed. “I think I have had enough excitement for one night, Monsieur Lupin. Thank you for the entertainment and the meal.” He gave a sigh, but it was more for show than anything else; a way of saying, I’ll be looking forward to more time in your company soon. She seemed to understand. Her former smirk returned.

Aloud, he said, “It has been my pleasure, Miss Sophie.”

When they had finished, he drew his wallet and left enough Galleons to cover things, including the exchange to Bezants, and then they rose together. He escorted her as far as the door before she stopped, placed a hand to his chest, and leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss with gentle enthusiasm, placing a hand to her hip, and when they parted after only a few satisfying moments, she said, “Something to remember me by.”

“Trust me, it would take a memory charm to forget you.”

She laughed. He watched her walk away under the moonlight. ‘I don’t know how long it will take before I can return, but it won’t be long,’ he silently promised. ‘As for now, however… it is well passed time for me to be on my way.’ Preferably before the Minister’s hunt caught up with him here in Tours, if that familiar shade of robe across the street was anything to go by.

-////////

“Potter.” The voice stopped him dead in his tracks only ten minutes since departing from The Gossamer Swan. Harry glanced back to find a middle-aged man only a few feet away, wand trained toward Harry’s shoulders. The Auror hadn’t so much as made a sound, not even the quiet rhythm of breath, until just now when he announced himself.

It was dark in the alley which Harry had detoured down, but even so, he did not need much light to identify the man he was speaking with, not after that tell-tale stealth. “Gaspard Tomas. I hadn’t known you were back in France already.” The name was hardly passed his lips before a wave of cold air washed over where they stood, rippling outward from the Auror’s wand as far as the ends of the alley, and effectively sealing all sound around their position from the outside world-- and vice-versa.

Auror Tomas kept his wand raised as Harry turned about to face him completely. “You broke quite a few laws during your errant jaunt this morning, Harry Potter. Enough so that I would be justified in bringing you before the Wizengamot for trial, and it would be a very short trial before you were sentenced to Azkaban for jeopardizing the Statute.”

Harry grimaced. ‘If that is only known to the Minister and the Aurors, I suppose I could still get away.’ Aloud he asked, “But…?” For his interruption, Auror Tomas locked his tongue to the roof his mouth.

“But it would break Gabrielle’s heart if you were convicted and locked away for the next ten years. I ought to do it, just so my goddaughter learns to move on from her childhood adoration. I’ve never liked your unhealthy relationship to her.”

Tomas heaved a great sigh and reached up to pinch the bridge of his crooked nose. “A lesson that will still benefit us all is to bring you before Beauregard, as I and my fellow Aurors have been appointed to do. He still doesn’t know it was you, thanks to her methodology, but I did the moment I heard, it was only ever you who would be so brazen as to bed Gabrielle in the Minister for Magic’s own residence. And who else should I find when I began looking?” He lowered his hand and shook his head. “No, this is not just coincidence. Tracking you down took more effort than I had imagined, but in the end it will be worth it. You will learn to respect established boundaries, she will have a year of peace from your bad influences, and I will have the same to prepare for your inevitable return, to encourage her toward a proper fiance. Yes. Yes, I think that will do just fine.”

He opened his eyes and looked hard at Harry’s less-than-favorable expression. “Will you comply, Harry Potter, or will you make this difficult? I already know that you cannot perform non-verbal incantation well. Surrender your wand and I will even allow you to keep your hands free until we have arrived at the Ministry.”

‘I knew Gaspard had his problems, but he hasn’t been this stern about it before.’ The seconds passed quickly before Harry bowed his head and nodded once. ‘I’m about to burn a bridge that I can never mend.’ If he went through with this, meeting with Gabrielle would become that much harder in the future. ‘But I’m not going to be sentenced to a year under the Louvre just because the Minister is a pain in the arse, either. I wouldn’t have had to escape if he’d have just let us be.’

He reached into his back pocket, and at the same time that he brought the elder wand forward, concentrating quite hard, Auror Tomas began, “That isn’t your wand--” before he whipped around and dropped down into a sniper’s crouch, just in time to reflect the jet of red light that would have hit him in the back of the legs otherwise.

‘Sophie?’ Harry nearly lost his concentration, during which time the Auror was able to retaliate with a plethora of binding spells in the direction which they had entered the alley from, and then Harry had broken the Langlock on his mouth and he delivered a stunner of his own straight into Gaspard Tomas’ unguarded back.

Even from point-blank range, Auror Tomas nearly responded in time, and had Harry been using his normal wand, it might have failed. But he was not, and the man could not deter the brilliantly glowing spell before it had shattered his shield and laid him out flat on his back.

It was true that the last time that Harry had been in France and, inevitably, crossed wands with the man for some frivolous insult that was actually an attempt to dissuade him away from Gabrielle, Harry had demonstrated difficulty with his non-verbal casting. But it was also true that he had practiced, mostly at Remus’ insistence over the past winter, and the elder wand only made it that much simpler.

Harry checked Tomas’ health to be sure he hadn’t just killed Gabrielle’s godfather, and when he was satisfied that was not the case, he applied an hour-delayed Ennervate before hurrying to the end of the alley. Sophie was also on the ground, he saw, wrangling with the constraints that her clothing had transfigured into.

For a beat, Harry could not help but stop and watch. It was a fascinating sight. But her eyes found his, and there was little of the usual sparkle there so much as a great deal of conflict.

“Monsieur Lupin,” she uttered, and the plea for assistance was clear. Together they countered what could not be outright canceled with Finite, leaving her in a tattered blue gown and very little else. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair with a sigh. “C’est magnifique.”

Harry shrugged out of his coat jacket and held it out to her as he helped her back to her feet. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, Sophie, but… how did you even find me? Why did you intervene?”

She accepted the jacket and buttoned it closed, offering her a modicum of reserve again. “I could not leave you to the mercies of the Aurors,” she said. “I happened to notice this one as we parted, and with your interests today, I took a gamble; that you are the man mentioned this morning. Am I right?” She glanced down the darkened alley, where Auror Tomas still laid unconscious. “I would say yes, no?”

“And so you have surprised me yet again,” Harry said. He stowed away the elder wand safely in his back pocket and said, “Yes. Gabrielle and I have the occasional fling. I am hardly the only one that she sees, however, or else that headline would have read rather differently.” He glanced back down the alley. “He’s still alive, and should be up in about an hour. Thank you for your help, Sophie. I might have been able to surprise him, but without your intervention, I would have been in much worse shape even if I had gotten the better of him.”

“You are…” she sighed. “Let us continue this elsewhere, Monsieur Lupin. Before this Auror’s allies arrive.”

-////////

After they had strolled halfway across the city, her apartment was two disapparation jumps away.

Harry glanced around at the modest quarters as Sophie made her way around to the windows and drew the curtains tighter. There was only a single couch next to the door, a comfortable looking if sloppy bed in the corner of the room, but anything else was put aside as he took notice of what she was doing. She performed several quick spells, Homenum Revelio being the one which caught his attention, and he recognized most of the others after that, given that he had applied the same a day ago.

Only once she had sealed the apartment from the outside world did Sophie activate the lights overhead and summon over a table, a bottle of fresh wine and accompanying glass, and sit down on the couch. She drank a full cup before handing it over to him. He poured enough to avoid being rude and sat beside her.

“This is not how I had imagined this night going,” she said, and there was none of her earlier satisfaction or playfulness present. She turned to look at him as he sipped. “You were only ever supposed to be an easy mark.”

With those words, the solution he hadn’t even been aware of on the back of his mind came together. “But…?” Harry asked, as he had with Gaspard Tomas nearly an hour ago.

“But I found myself drawn to you more than I should have been.” She halfheartedly placed her wand between them, the tip aimed toward his ribs. “I suppose you have already figured it out, Monsieur Lupin.”

His gaze dipped down to her wand for a moment, and then back up to her miserable eyes. He missed the glint they had once shone so brightly with. “It doesn’t matter, Sophie. You came back and saved me,” he said. “It was the kiss, wasn’t it?” he realized. “You placed a tracking charm on me when we kissed.”

“Yes, yes. I had expected to follow you back to your residence and use my charm as always to befuddle your protections. And now what?” she asked. “Do I bind you up and leave you here, pack up everything and flee? With Aurors swarming all of Paris, Tours, and every city in between?”

“Or we could resume from where we left off at dinner,” he suggested. “You don’t have to run away from me, Sophie.”

“You would say that even though I have you at wand-point?”

He leaned forward and placed his hand to her cheek. “Look into my eyes and ask if I mind,” he said, staring. “Sophie. It’s all water under the bridge, now. I’ll never turn you over to the Aurors, and I know that you won’t leave me to the same fate, either.” He kissed her then, and her wand rolled to the floor, her hands reaching up to grip his robes and pull him closer.

She found herself sliding down the couch, with him over her, and she broke the kiss. “What kind of madman disregards a thief’s warnings, Monsieur Lupin?” she asked. He set the wineglass aside and sat back up, pulling her into his lap, so that he could answer her around brief, teasing kisses.

“Harry Potter,” he said simply. “I’ve never been known to take the most rational path in my life. And right now, I’d very much like to get to know Miss Sophie Thief better and give her my utmost thanks for saving my life tonight. I think she approves? Good.”

By the time that they rose and fell upon her bed, the glimmer in her gaze had returned in full.

Much later that night, as they lay beside each other basking in the aftermath of their frenzied lovemaking, Harry laid an arm around Sophie’s shoulders and held her close to his side. She sighed. “Now is when we must part ways, is it not, Monsieur Potter?” she asked him. Her voice had grown quiet with how tired she was, though her expression was soft and pleased.

“No,” he said.

“No?” she repeated. She turned to him.

“I’ve got something coming together in my head, Sophie. This isn’t going to be easy, and we’ll need to stay on the move, but this is what I can figure out…”

-////////

“Sophie, meet my first godfather, Snuffles. Snuffles, my lover, Sophie.” Harry introduced her to the shaggy black dog who had wandered up to them in Lyon two harried days later.

For the longest beat Sophie stared, as the dog sat down and began to pant, but before she could express the doubt building in her gaze, the dog’s own eyes tracked her up and down in a way that no mere animal would have. A soft woof of approval later and the dog nodded, rose, and began to trot away in the same direction it had come from.

“Don’t worry. He’s just shy.” Harry gestured for them to follow. “The less chance there is for him to be seen properly, the better there is for this to work.”

They followed Snuffles through the back streets until they entered a dead-end alleyway. Waiting there, running a hand affectionately through Snuffles’ ears, stood a greying man with a patchy combover, looking throughly wearied. “Harry, we’re going to have to have a talk when we get back home about your bad habits. If I’d known what you would do with our lessons last year… and who is this poor woman you have roped up into this mess?”

“Sophie,” she introduced herself, seeing as Harry had already said as such to the dog eying her like a slab of rare steak. “These are the men whom you wrote?” she asked aside to Harry.

“Yes, both of my godfathers.” To Remus, Harry said, “I know I’ve made some mistakes, Moony, and I promise I’ll do better going forward.”

“Starting with smuggling in a fresh wand and carrying incriminating evidence away on a poor mutt. Where did we go wrong with your upbringing, Harry?” Remus gave a terrible sigh. “Here, let’s just get this over with.” Remus held out a familiar wand and Harry traded elder for holly with a sigh of relief.

“C’est magnifique,” Sophie uttered. “Now what?”

“Now that Harry has a clean wand, you two make your way to the Ministry and plead your supposed innocence. Yes, I mean it. You’ll have to do so anyway if you reached the border, the way this is going. Neither Veritaserum nor memories are admissible in court for verification purposes, only wand history, but do not say more than you have to,” Remus said.

“If we did not go at all then we wouldn’t have to worry about saying too much,” Harry said.

Remus’s voice turned dry and clinical as he resumed speaking, ignoring Harry’s protests, “Mister Potter was visiting Tours for a break. You met by chance at the cafe where Miss Sophie works, went on a dinner-date, and afterward were ambushed by a prejudiced Auror with a longstanding grudge toward Mister Potter looking to take advantage of unrelated events in Paris. Miss Sophie managed to stun the Auror who was making untoward threats of Azkaban. Had she not intervened, who knows what the Auror would have actually done. You were acting in his defense.” Remus looked positively abysmal. “As for us, we’re going back home and I am going to drink enough to forget about crossing the channel to aid and abet.”

Snuffles woofed. “Do shut up, Snuffles. You’re at least twice her age. Oh,” Remus held the elder wand out, and Snuffles suddenly elongated and shifted up into a man on his hands and knees with ruffled brown hair and a well cared for beard.

“Yes, oh,” Sirius Black repeated with sardonic mirth as he stood up. He slid the elder wand into his robe and smiled over to Harry and Sophie. “Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle. Forget you saw me like this, I’d like to make a better first impression once we’re all free and clear.”

“Oh no, no. I would not soon forget your face, Monsieur… Snuffles?” she said. Harry could not help but notice that her eyes were taking Sirius in with the same sort of glimmer as when she had first assessed him. ‘It is what it is,’ he thought. ‘I can’t say that I blame her. Sirius on the other hand...’

“Black, actually. But my friends call me--” Remus prodded him hard in the ribs, turning Sirius’ voice into a cough, and he cleared his throat. “Well, if things don’t work out between you and my godson, and you find yourself alone in England, there’s this little bar…”

“I see where he got it from,” Remus muttered. “Let’s go, Snuffles.” Sirius gave the two of them a winsome smile and reverted to his animagus form again, woofing twice. His tongue might have lolled out the side of his mouth as Remus attached a collar and leash around the dog’s neck, and they made their way out of the alley like just another man taking his overly eager pet for a walk.

“Well, now you’ve met the men who helped with my upbringing,” Harry said.

“Yes.” Her tone lingered on the word, still staring after where Snuffles had gone. She finally turned back to him, and Harry could see in her eyes that the feelings they had developed over their first date and subsequent night together had already faded to fond memories, little more.

‘And that’s the way that love is,’ he thought. ‘As long as she’s happy, we still had our moment together.’

-////////

“That isn’t your wand.” For the second time that week, Gaspard Tomas found himself staring in confusion. He picked up the holly wand out of the case and brandished it toward where Harry stood before the Minister. “Where is the dark wand that you used that night, Harry Potter?”

“I haven’t a clue what you are talking about, Auror Tomas.” Harry glanced to the object in Tomas’ hand and back to the Minister with a look that said, Do you see what I mean, your honor? “That is the wand I was chosen by as a boy. Holly and phoenix feather.”

“I know what wand you have typically used, and this is not what you carried when I had cornered you in that alley three nights ago.” Auror Tomas’ set it back into the case and turned to the cadre who had been brought in. “Each of you assisted in the apprehension attempt, you clearly saw the wand which Harry Potter was using as he twisted the streets and structures of the arrondissements into his own personal playground. What did it look like?”

There were varying reports, but they all claimed the same fact-- or rather, set of facts; that it had been too dark to ascertain all but the scarcest of details regarding the man they were chasing, and that the wand had appeared a deeper and longer thing in the man’s hand than what they saw now. Whomever it had been, they could not determine from the hood and cloak he had been wearing.

Tomas turned back to Harry and drew a long and slow breath, which when he exhaled, he said, “You have simply swapped out your wand for another since that night. Their descriptions match what I have seen.”

“Gaspard.” The Minister interjected.

“Sir?”

“I have granted this audience under the assumption that you have viable proof that the accused is indeed the figure responsible for defiling my daughter and vandalizing Paris. I have yet to hear or see this proof.”

“Sir, of all the… men, Gabrielle has spent time with, who else but Harry Potter would dare such a thing? It is a simple matter to replace one wand with another.”

“Then Floo to the wandmakers and have them give an inventory of wands which they have sold this month that match either description, and have it done now. This is wasting time you should be spending apprehending the actual culprit behind these crimes.”

At those words, Auror Tomas’ expression turned downright bitter. He had already lost. “There is no need, sir. It would appear that I am mistaken on this count.”

“So be it.” The Minister directed his ire over the banister at Harry, who was standing straight with his head raised, hands overlapping before him. “Harry James Potter, you are cleared of the charges herein; breaking and entering private property, excessive and willful damages to public property, and endangerment of the Statute of Secrecy. However,” he paused. “There remains the fact that you and your date, Sophie Eloise Antoinette, struck down Auror Gaspard three nights past.”

“In self-defense, sir.”

“I shall be the judge of that.” The Minister leaned back into his chair, his usually doughy expression hard with frustration. “Yes,” he said at last. “I think that with enough salt in this wound, there will be sufficient motivation. Auror Gaspard.”

“Sir.”

“You are to cease further contact with the accused until you have apprehended the man responsible for the remaining crimes.” Auror Tomas’ left hand clenched, though he bowed his head. “Monsieur Potter, Mademoiselle Antoinette. You are fined 250 Bezants each, to be paid within one week’s time. If you are unable to cover the cost, you will serve time until such as the cost has been repaid.”

Harry blinked. His mouth opened, but then he realized that to say anything more would be to invite more harm. He likewise bowed his head.

Seeing that neither he nor his date were going to argue, the Minister rose. “Case dismissed. See that their wands are returned.”

Auror Tomas stared hard at Harry. Yet he turned and departed, knowing the impossible quandary which had fallen into his lap. Harry received his wand from one of the other Aurors, as did Sophie, and he went to her where she was sitting in the emptying stands looking utterly stricken.

“Sophie, it’s fine,” he said, sitting down beside her.

“No, no. I can never repay such a fine. Not if I--” he quickly bent over and kissed her, to quiet her before she could utter something far more damning, and after a moment she relaxed and leaned into it with a desperate need. When he pulled back some few moments later, she looked into his eyes. “What now, Harry Potter?” she asked quietly.

He smiled to reassure her. “I will cover the costs. It is entirely my fault that we are here, after all.”

“You have such a fortune stowed away?”

“Let’s just say my parents left me enough gold that I haven’t wanted for much but a woman’s love, and my godfathers made sure I did not waste the entire vault searching for that.”

-////////

“You have an excellent taste for women,” Sirius Black said as Harry stepped inside of his and Remus’ house back in Godric's Hollow one week later. “By the way, Remus is still disappointed in you. I suppose I should be upset, too, but he always was the mother hen in our little group back then. I’m just happy you aren’t locked up, Harry.”

“A touching new first impression, Monsieur Snuffles.” Sirius whipped around to find that Sophie Antoinette had waited just outside of the doorway, where the detection charms would not sense her. He grimaced and faced Harry, standing there with a rather satisfied grin.

“She does have a way of getting one up on people,” Harry said. “Unfortunately for me, I and Sophie have decided to leave our relationship as only friends. Most fortunately for you, however, she has decided to take you up on your offer.”

“Is that so?” Sirius said, brushing aside his grimace and offering the fetching younger woman his previous winsome smile once more. She laughed, and he could see the same light in her gaze that his godson had mentioned in that letter just over a week ago. “Well, Harry, why don’t you make yourself at home-- Remus will be back from Diagon in a few more hours-- while I and Miss Antoinette become acquainted with one another at The Snowy Owl.”

Harry just shook his head. “Have fun, Sirius, Sophie.” Once they had gone, he sighed and made his way over to his old room. It was nice to be home, no matter what comforts his London flat offered for his one-night-stands. But he wasn’t planning to stay for very long. Despite his breakup with Sophie, he had already arranged to meet with an old friend.

He collected a change of clothes, took a hot shower, and finally returned to the fireplace, where he kindled up the fire and tossed in a pinch of Floo powder. “The Rookery, Ottery St Catchpole.” Luna always did know how to live up to her last name.

Fin.

 

How to Review Things - A Guide
https://forums.darklordpotter.net/threads/moreplz-reviewing-in-wba.38135/

 

I really didn't like this.

While it's technically better written than most of the other entries, there just wasn't any substance here for me. It's a casanova!Harry story, but no real romance I can see. I would be tempted to call it PWP, but the sex scenes aren't explicit enough to be that. Perhaps it's more accurate to call it wish fulfillment - but then that's just calling fanfiction fanfiction.

I guess the heart of the problem is that there's no conflict. Harry breezes through the story without a care, and despite some momentary interruptions from Tomas, it never feels like a significant roadblock. To make matters worse, what little obstacles Tomas posed was resolved rather unsatisfactorily at the end where they are just let free. It makes sense, of course.

But what is realistic does not always correlate to what makes for a good story.

It feels like a story that wanted to be about a playboy, but without the charm of an actual playboy character (Harry just shows up and girls want to magically suck his dick because reasons), one is never sure about the passage of time between the scenes (there seem to be massive jumps), there's no chemistry between our two leads (for an example of how this might be done with an OC, look at Zombie's Q3 competition piece), so we're left with...what, exactly?

I feel kind of bad because I'm making this piece sound worse than it actually is. It's technical writing is decent. There's nothing wrong with the prose. The dialogue is serviceable.

It's just that at the heart of it, the character's fall flat for me, and I guess that at the end of the day that element is crucial. Good characters make for good stories.

Let's break this down some more: What can we really say about Harry beyond he's a playboy archetype? Nothing.
About Tomas beyond being the overly protective godfather? Nothing
About Gabrielle or Sophia beyond being lovestruck? Nothing.
About Sirius beyond being the playboy godfather? Nothing.
About Remus beyond being the serious godfather? Nothing.

If I had to pick, I'd say Tomas was by far the most interesting because he actually had a conflict between doing his duty as an auror, to uphold the law, looking out for the best interests of Gabrielle, and looking out for her happiness. His little self monologue of what to do about Harry captures this drama nicely, and that was the only time during the story I actually cared.

 

So, the prompt was Romance.

This wasn't Romance.

This make's no sense.
There are also several jumps through out that break the flow and narrative of the story. Cassanova Harry is one thing, but I was fully expecting him to find the one woman that could tame his wiling heart. For him to use the elderwand for something as trivial as locking down the room in which he's banging someone is -- to a point -- totally absurd. There is not one personality, Harry's included that set me up to engage with this story, and it was a chore to make it through to the end. Technical skill aside, I feel like there was just so much missing from this. If I had wrote this, I wouldn't have engaged with the entire start of this story. Its damaging to Harry's character, and sets up any long term struggle of romance and puts it neatly on the backburner.

There is no conflict here. Harry doesn't use smooth motivations, or words, or anything really, to work himself out of the hole he's in so I feel like nothing lines up at all. Instead, he uses OP magic a la the Elderwand. Then he meets some random no name called Sophie whose apparently just skilled enough to mark him, someone who has just outran eleven aurors, and then casually sits within a cafe reading the news about himself.

There was a glimmer of personality in their conversation, at the very least. But Sophie's motivations were not immediately obvious. I don't know about you, but unless its some clandestine meeting, I'm usually gonna introduce myself with my name. I get that you later revealed why she didn't reveal it, but you're relying on too many assumptions. 1) being that Sophie realized that Lupin wasn't Harry's last name, 2) that he was associated with the person in the press, 3) that he was a target worth bothering with.

Then you fuck all of that by doing some kind of girl swap at the end where Sirius gets Sophie, and Harry goes to bang Luna. You have like four plot lines going in this and no resolution for any of them. Harry bangs a high profile girl, their dad gets mad. But -- there is no romance involved here. Harry meets another girl at a cafe and they're drawn to each other, but ultimately, they're both forced to pay a fine for an encounter with an Auror (don't get me started on this), Harry willingly gives Remus the Elder wand, but then they're never mentioned again, somehow Harry gets out of trouble and decides that he and Sophie aren't best fit, and flies off to bang Luna, but in the mean time, he's happy to be back home.

I feel like this is one of those auto-generated fics written by one of those bots.

I know this is overly harsh, but I feel like it missed the mark by several miles. If you had focused on one plot line, and actually stuck to the main prompt, then you would have had a pretty solid story, but you did not.

 

Gabrielle eh? Alright, let's see what we've got here. I expected Fleur to appear in an entry for this thing, but Gabrielle is a pleasant substitute.

Story starts off with Harry in Gabrielle's room making out. I have to admit, this is exactly the sort of story that makes me not enjoy romance, if I'm honest. At least so far. I will do my utmost to not let that affect my rating and review, but if I was reading this on ffnet I'd scroll down, look for some non-sexy content, and then X-out if I didn't find any. I'd bet that this Harry is characterized as a player too, and gets around with a lot of girls. Urgh.

That's just me though - most people love this stuff. So kudos for hitting what I suspect are the right marks.

I like the implications regarding the feathers and her fully-human state. Sounds like some interesting sex!

I'm curious how Harry considers Gabrielle in this fic. My first imrpession is that she's one of many conquests for him, and he sees her as someone he likes and enjoys sleeping with but also like he has other options. But if that's the case then it's odd that he's so willing to risk the (apparently hardcore) wrath of her father to meet up again... and besides, if this is going to be a romance, I'd expect him to fall for her at some point, not just want to get laid. But I wasn't reading this with the competition in mind I'd think he just saw her as a good lay - maybe imply she's special somehow to him?

Or maybe he's gonna fall for this Sophie woman, I don't know.

...I'm also sorry, because reading this is like pulling teeth for me. Sans the competition I'd never keep going. I hate this type of drivel with coy dates and sexy escapades.

I like Gaspard Tomas.

Sirius and Remus are alive? Didn't expect that - but it does help showcase a little more of how this has diverged from canon apart from being a decade or more into the future.

And... uh, it's over? I'm not sure who the romance was meant to be between. It wasn't Harry and Gabrielle - they were just fucking, I think. Harry and Sophie had a fling, but it didn't really progress into romance. And then it ends with perhaps Sirius and Sophie deciding to give it a go, which might go there, but... yeah.

I was reading this and thinking two things. (1) I hope that Gaspard Tomas murders everyone else in this story and gets away with it, and (2) I am going to need to give this one second place because apart from the Dumbledore and Grindelwald story the others didn't fit my own idea of a 'romance.'

But frankly this one doesn't fit that idea either.

This is a well written little story that I suspect a lot of people will like. It's got that casanova!Harry that so many people seem to enjoy reading about. Perhaps they live vicariously through stories like this, where Harry is powerful and able to bed beautiful women while having fun with his godfather on the side.

But it's not really for me. And since I can't quite classify it as a romance (by my personal rules - everyone else is free to do otherwise), well... all I can say is that if you edit it up a bit and put it on ffnet, I expect people will enjoy reading it.