Harry didn't see much of Gabrielle over the next few days. She was out the door most mornings before Harry had finished his second cup of coffee, usually wearing a blouse and pencil skirt with a matching blazer and heels to go with the attire. Paris called, apparently, and whatever prospects she was chasing there kept her occupied until late evening.
Their interactions had been reduced to brief exchanges in the mornings. She'd greet him cheerfully enough, but then she'd be gone for the day.
One week passed in this way until Harry decided he'd had enough.
He was in his garden, having just taken care of some weeds when he saw her come out of her home in her usual attire, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that showed off the elegant line of her neck. Her gold earrings glinted in the morning sunlight.
"Hey, Gabrielle," he called out just as she approached with a warm smile.
"Morning, 'Arry. Early morning?"
"Something like that. Needed to get rid of the weeds."
She nodded.
"Hey, so I was wondering," he started, clearing his throat. She turned her attention back to him, nodding.
"Oui?"
"Been a while since we hung out proper," he smiled. "How about we get dinner somewhere? Tonight, maybe?"
Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment before she gave him a large grin, genuinely delighted. "Really?"
"Yeah," he chuckled.
"I would love zat! Eet's a date!" The words tumbled out of her, her excitement making her accent thicker.
Harry felt his eyebrows rise slightly, but before he could respond, she was already backtracking.
She caught herself and added quickly, "I mean, not like that. I know you don't want a girlfriend or anything serious. I didn't mean it that way." Her cheeks had taken on a faint pink tinge.
He smiled. "It's fine. I didn't take it that way either."
"Good." She returned his smile, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "It's good that we both know where we stand."
"Exactly." Harry smiled as he regarded her. She looked genuinely happy that he'd proposed this idea, and he found himself already thinking over the plan for the evening. "So, where would you like to go?"
"Well, I'll be in Paris anyway this evening. You could come there after I'm done? There are so many good restaurants."
"Sounds perfect."
Gabrielle's eyes lit up with an idea. "We should try a good muggle place. It would be more fun, non?"
"Well, I'm game for that. I'll handle the reservation and everything."
"You're sure?"
"Completely."
She glanced at her watch and grimaced. "I need to go or I'll be late. But Harry? Thank you for asking."
"Thank you for saying yes," he chuckled.
She gave him one last brilliant smile before she twisted on the spot and apparated away.
xXx
It was warm tonight. Harry walked along the roadside and checked his reflection one last time in a shop window. The navy suit jacket fit him perfectly, tailored close to his body without being restrictive. His white shirt was open at the collar, no tie in sight, and his dark trousers had a subtle pattern that caught the light when he moved. The brown leather shoes were comfortable enough for walking and polished properly.
He'd actually put effort into his appearance tonight, having charmed his perpetually messy hair a bit as well until it looked tousled rather than simply chaotic as it always did.
The meeting spot they'd agreed upon was a quiet square off the main tourist routes, surrounded by old buildings with iron balconies and window boxes full of flowers. A fountain bubbled in the center, and the few people passing through seemed more interested in their own business than in a man waiting by a lamppost.
Harry had only been there five minutes when he spotted her.
Gabrielle approached from the opposite side of the square, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. She wore a dress in deep emerald green that hugged her curves before flaring slightly at her hips, ending well above her knees. The neckline was modest enough for dinner but low enough to hint at the swell of her breasts, and the sleeves were mere wisps of fabric that left her shoulders bare. Her blonde hair tumbled in loose waves past her shoulders, and her makeup highlighted her blue eyes while making her lips look incredibly kissable.
She was, quite simply, stunning.
Their eyes met across the square and her face broke into a bright smile that made his lips quirk upwards. She picked up her pace, her heels clicking against the cobblestones, and in no time, she was standing in front of him.
"Hey," she said, slightly breathless.
"Hey yourself." Harry let his gaze travel over her appreciatively, lingering on the obvious spots. She most definitely noticed, but all she did was grin. "You look absolutely incredible."
"You don't look so bad yourself." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in his outfit. "Very handsome, Harry Potter."
"I had good motivation to make an effort."
"Oh?" She tilted her head, playing coy. "And what was that?"
"The most beautiful company I could get."
The smile she gave him could have lit up the entire square. "You're quite the charmer when you want to be."
"Only when it's deserved." He gestured toward the street. "Shall we?"
"We shall."
Harry stepped to the curb and raised his hand, and a cab pulled over almost immediately. He stepped to the side and opened the back door for her, earning a smile. Gabrielle moved to get in, her dress riding slightly up her thighs. The movement revealed her long, toned legs that seemed to go on forever, and Harry found his gaze lingering on the stockings-clad skin for longer than was strictly polite.
She slid across the seat with a smile and he followed, settling in beside her. The interior smelled faintly of leather and air freshener.
"Le Cinq," Harry told the driver in what he hoped was acceptable French.
Gabrielle's head whipped around to look at him. "Le Cinq? Harry, that's one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris."
He merely smiled at her. "Is it?"
"Don't play innocent with me. You knew exactly what you were booking."
"Maybe I wanted to impress you."
She flushed at his remark, looking at him.
"W-well… Mission accomplished then." She shook her head, but she was smiling as she settled into the seat more comfortably, her shoulder brushing against his.
The drive was short, weaving through the evening traffic. Harry found himself hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched, the warmth of her body beside him, and the subtle scent of her perfume mixing with her unique aroma. They chatted lightly, Gabrielle pointing out various attractions they were passing.
When they arrived, Harry stepped out first and turned to offer his hand. Gabrielle shifted in the seat and took it, allowing him to gently pull her. As she swung her legs out of the cab, her dress rode up again. Her legs parted as she stepped out, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the flash of black lace between her thighs. Definitely not something innocent.
Harry didn't look away, and as she stepped out of the cab, his eyes finally traveled back to her face. He easily caught the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
He paid the driver while she adjusted her dress, smoothing it down, and when he turned back to her, that smile was still there. Did she flash him on purpose?
"Ready?" he asked instead.
"Very."
They walked toward the restaurant entrance together, close enough that their arms brushed with each step. The doorman opened the heavy glass door with a slight bow, and they stepped into a world of understated luxury.
The interior was all cream and gold, with crystal chandeliers casting warm light over tables draped in pristine white cloth. Fresh flowers adorned every surface, and the murmur of conversation mixed with the soft clink of expensive silverware.
"Bonsoir," the maître d' greeted them with a professional smile. "Do you have a reservation?" He asked in French.
"Potter," Harry replied with a slight accent. "Table for two."
The man checked his book and nodded. "Ah yes, Monsieur Potter. Right this way, please."
He led them through the dining room to a corner table that offered both intimacy and a view of the restaurant. Harry held Gabrielle's chair for her, and she gave him an amused look as she sat.
"Such a gentleman," she murmured.
"I have my moments."
A waiter appeared with menus and a wine list, rattling off the evening's specials in rapid French that Harry caught about half of. Gabrielle answered him in his stead, and Harry found himself enjoying the sound of it.
When the waiter left, she leaned forward slightly, and the neckline of her dress fell forward a bit, showing off the swells of her ample tits. "Still a way to go, hmm?" She asked teasingly, and Harry pulled his gaze off her bits to look at her amused face.
"I'm good enough to get by. You obviously speak it better."
"Well, I am French." She grinned as she opened her menu, looking through the options. "Your accent isn't bad though."
"I'll take that as high praise."
"You should." She glanced up at him over the top of her menu, grinning. "So, Mr. Potter. Tell me why you really asked me to dinner."
Harry considered her question, appreciating that she'd asked it. "Well, I guess it's because I missed spending time with you this past week."
"We've been living next to each other."
"Barely. You've been gone every day."
"And you missed me?" There was no teasing in her voice, only genuine curiosity.
"I did." He nodded as he met her eyes steadily. "And well, the pool's been lonely without you."
Something softened in her expression, and she gave him a smile. "I missed it too. And you."
"So, what have you been doing in Paris all week?" Harry asked, genuinely curious as he perused the menu. "You said something about checking out more career options?"
"Oui." Gabrielle's face lit up with enthusiasm. "I've been meeting with different people, trying to see what really interests me. And you know what? I think I finally found something."
"Yeah?"
"Healing." She said simply, but Harry could sense that it meant something to her. "I never really considered it before, but I spent a day at St. Mungo's Paris branch and something just clicked."
Harry set down his menu, giving her his full attention. "What made it click?"
"I think it was seeing how the healers interacted with their patients. There was this little girl, maybe six years old, who'd been accidentally hit with a hex by her older brother. She was crying, terrified, and the healer who treated her was so gentle and patient. By the time she was done, the girl was laughing." Gabrielle's expression had gone soft with the memory. "And I thought, I want to do that. I want to help people feel better."
"That's a good reason to choose a career."
"Better than most of what I was considering before. My professors at Beauxbatons kept pushing for politics or international relations. Some even told me to using my looks to open doors." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "It all felt so shallow."
"Healing's definitely not shallow."
"No." She smiled. "It's real. Meaningful. You can see the difference you make."
The waiter returned and they ordered. Harry went with the duck confit after Gabrielle assured him it was excellent, and she chose the sea bass. For wine, she selected a white that the waiter clearly approved of based on his enthusiastic nod.
When they were alone again, Harry picked up the thread of conversation. "How long would the training be?"
"Three years of intensive study, then two years of practical training at a hospital. Five years total." Gabrielle took a sip of water. "It's a long commitment."
"Most worthwhile things are."
"Is that what you told yourself when you came here?"
Harry laughed. "Actually, I mostly told myself that if I didn't, Fleur would never let me live it down."
"I met her today," she smiled.
"How's she doing?" Harry asked, leaning back as the waiter brought their wine, going through the tasting ritual before pouring for both of them.
"Still living life like a carefree bird," Gabrielle chuckled. "No sign of settling down. Happily enchanting stuff for wealthy patrons. She's found her calling. Just like someone else I know."
Harry merely smirked.
Gabrielle took a sip of her wine, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. "Mmm, this is perfect."
"You've got good taste."
"In wine or dinner companions?"
"Both, I hope."
She let out a tinkling laugh. "Definitely both."
Their food arrived, beautifully plated and aromatic, and for a few minutes they ate in comfortable silence. The duck was tender and flavorful, practically melting on Harry's tongue, and from the pleased sounds Gabrielle was making, her sea bass was equally good.
"This is amazing," she said after her third bite. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"Thank you for coming."
"Well, I couldn't very well turn down an invitation from the famous Harry Potter, could I?" She said teasingly, eyeing him over the rim of her wine glass.
"Infamous is probably more accurate."
"Mmm, I don't know. Infamous implies you did something wrong. From what I know, you did everything right."
Harry felt heat creep up his neck. He'd never been comfortable with praise about the war. "I did what needed to be done. Lots of people did."
"But you did it first. You led." She set down her glass, her expression serious now. "Don't downplay it, Harry. You saved lives."
"Can we talk about something else?" He softened the request with a smile. "I'd rather focus on the present than the past."
"All right." She reached for her wine again. "The present it is. And presently, I'm having a wonderful time."
"Good. That was the goal."
"Mission accomplished, then." She tilted her head, studying him. "You know, you're different than I expected."
"How so?"
"Warmer. More relaxed." She gestured with her fork. "When we were young, you were always so serious. Like you carried the weight of the world."
"I kind of did."
"And now?"
"Now the world can carry its own weight for a while." He took a drink of wine, feeling it warm him from the inside. "I'm tired of being serious all the time."
"I like this version of you better." She said with a smile, her tone turning slightly flirtatious. "This version takes beautiful women to expensive restaurants."
"Only when they deserve it."
"And do I deserve it?"
Harry let his gaze travel over her face, taking in the way the candlelight played across her features. "Absolutely."
The flush that crept into her cheeks was incredibly satisfying.
They talked through the rest of dinner, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. Gabrielle told him about her years at Beauxbatons, explaining more about the pressure of being a veela and the younger sister of a Triwizard Tournament champion. Harry shared stories from his past, carefully editing out the darker parts but keeping enough truth to make her laugh.
At some point, they'd both leaned forward, elbows on the table, the space between them shrinking. Her knee brushed against his under the table and neither of them moved away.
"The guys at Beauxbatons must have been falling all over themselves for you," Harry said as their plates were cleared away.
Gabrielle's expression soured slightly. "They were falling over my allure. Not me."
"I understand, but it's a part of you too."
She hummed as she swirled the remaining wine in her glass. "They'd get this glazed look in their eyes, stumble over their words, act like complete idiots. It was exhausting. And then I told you what happened."
"You did. And it all sounds frustrating."
"It was. Is." She met his eyes. "Do you feel it? My allure?"
"I feel attracted to you, yes. But I don't feel like I've lost control of my faculties or anything. So no, I don't feel it in that sense."
"That's because you're strong-willed. Most wizards aren't." She took another sip, however her toes curled as she registered his admission, that he felt attracted to her. "It's refreshing, actually. To talk to someone who sees me and not just the Veela part."
"The Veela part's nice," Harry said, his voice dropping slightly. "But it's not the only thing worth noticing."
Her breath caught slightly, and the air between them seemed to thicken with a mix of alcohol and the tension that was brewing between them.
"Harry Potter," she said softly. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Would that be a problem?" He asked, his voice equally soft.
"Not even a little bit."
The heated moment was broken by the waiter who appeared to ask about dessert, and they both declined. Harry paid the bill despite Gabrielle's protests that they should split it, and then they were standing, making their way back through the restaurant.
Outside, the evening had cooled slightly, and Gabrielle shivered. Without thinking, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side. She breathed in and melted into him immediately, her own arm wrapping around him. They stayed like that and walked toward the nearby alley.
"We can apparate from here," Harry said when they reached the shadowed space.
"Wait." Gabrielle's hand on his chest stopped him. "We've both been drinking. Apparating might not be the safest idea."
She had a point. The wine had left him pleasantly buzzed, and while he wasn't drunk, he wasn't exactly sober either.
"What do you have in mind then?"
"Home's just on the outskirts of the city. We can take a cab." She looked up at him, her face very close, close enough that he was tempted to lean in. "Unless you're in a hurry to get rid of me?"
"Not even slightly," he said softly.
They walked back to the main street, still wrapped around each other, and Harry hailed another cab. This time when Gabrielle got in, the show she gave him was definitely intentional. The black lace he'd glimpsed earlier was part of matching underwear that left very little to the imagination, and she held his gaze as she settled into the seat.
Harry's mouth went dry, but he managed to keep his expression neutral as he followed her in and gave the driver their destination.
The cab pulled away from the curb, and Harry became immediately aware that Gabrielle was sitting much closer than she had on the ride to the restaurant. Her thigh pressed against his, and when the cab turned a corner, she swayed into him, her hand landing on his leg to steady herself.
It stayed there.
"So," she said, her voice pitched low enough that the driver wouldn't hear. "Did you have a good time tonight?"
"One of the best I've had in a long time." Harry's own hand found her waist, his fingers splaying across the silky fabric of her dress. "You?"
"Wonderful." She shifted slightly, getting even closer if that was possible. "You're good company, Harry."
"You sound surprised."
"Maybe a little." Her fingers traced absent patterns on his thigh, probably unconsciously, though the effect was definitely conscious on his end. "It's mostly to do with me though. I didn't think I'd be this comfortable, but there's just something about you that makes me feel… relaxed, I guess is the word I'm looking for."
"And here I thought you might find be boring. A serious kind of guy."
"Well, being serious is also important when the situation calls for it."
"And what about tonight? Disappointing you in any way?"
"Merlin, no." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Quite the opposite, actually."
"Gabrielle." His voice came out rougher than intended.
"Hmm?"
"You look beautiful tonight."
"You said that already."
"It's worth repeating." His hand moved slightly on her waist, his thumb brushing against her ribcage and she shivered. "This dress is incredible on you. The color brings out your eyes, and the way it fits you is just… perfect."
She'd gone very still, her breath coming slightly faster. "What else did you notice?"
"The way you walk in those heels, like you own every surface you step on. The way your hair catches the light. The way you bite your lip when you're thinking." He paused, his eyes dropping to her mouth. "The way you're biting it right now."
She released her lip, a small smile replacing it. "You're very observant."
"Only about things that interest me."
"And I interest you?"
"You know you do."
Gabrielle's smile widened. "The drinks felt so strong at the restaurant, but now I barely feel it."
"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."
"Maybe we digested it already or something." Her hand was still on his thigh, her fingers flexing slightly. "Or maybe we just need another drink."
Harry's pulse kicked up at the suggestion. "I could make us something when we get back, if you'd like."
She turned her head to look at him fully, and the expression in her eyes made his breath catch. "I'd like that very much."
The rest of the cab ride passed in silence, both of them acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. When they finally pulled up to Harry's house, Harry slid out first. As he stood by the door, Gabrielle shifted to exit the cab, and once again Harry was treated to the sight of black lace and pale thighs.
She wasn't even pretending to be accidental about it anymore, giving him an even better show of what lay between her legs. The tease.
He paid the driver and walked with her to the door. Finally when they were inside, the house felt quieter and darker than it truly was, with just the two of them in the vast space.
"What would you like?" Harry asked as they made their way to the kitchen, turning on lights as they went.
"Surprise me."
He busied himself gathering bottles and glasses, mixing something with vodka and juice that he hoped would taste good. His mind was only half on the task, the rest focused on the woman perched on one of the bar stools, watching him with those impossibly blue eyes.
"Here." He slid the glass across to her. "Careful, I'm not sure I got the proportions right."
She took a sip, her eyes closing. "It's perfect."
Harry made himself a drink and took the stool next to hers, angling his body toward her. "So. Good night?"
"The best." She set down her glass. "Thank you, Harry. Really. I had such a good time tonight."
"Me too."
"You know what's funny?" She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. "All those boys at Beauxbatons, always asking me out, and not one of them ever made me feel like you did tonight."
"How did I make you feel?"
"Seen." She said it simply, but there was a deep significance behind the word, like it meant something to her. "Like you were actually interested in me. In what I think and feel and want. Not just how I look or what I represent."
"That's how you deserve to be treated."
"Maybe." She took another sip of her drink, finishing it. "But it's rare. They're all idiots, honestly. More interested in bragging rights than actually getting to know me."
"Their loss." Harry drained his own glass. "You're an incredible woman, Gabrielle. Smart, ambitious, funny. Beautiful, yes, but that's just the package. The real value is what's inside."
She stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. "Has anyone ever told you that you're dangerously charming when you want to be?"
"Not in so many words."
"Well, you are." She stood, moving around the bar to stand beside him. "And I think I owe you a drink now. You made me one, so it's only fair."
Harry chuckled. "I'm not going to argue with that logic."
He watched as she gathered bottles, humming softly to herself. The wine and the earlier drink had loosened something in her, making her movements more fluid and carefree.
"You know what?" she said as she mixed ingredients. "I feel really good right now. Relaxed. Happy."
"Good."
"It's been a while since I felt like this. Like I could just be myself without worrying about what everyone else thinks."
"What changed?"
"You, maybe." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Or maybe I just needed someone to show me it was okay to let loose a little. To have fun without overthinking everything."
"Be careful," Harry said playfully, his voice dropping. "I can be a pretty bad influence."
She let out a bright laugh, her expression totally relaxed. "I think I can handle it."
"Can you reach that bottle up there?" She pointed to the top shelf.
Harry looked at the bottle, then at her, then back at the bottle. "You know you're a witch, right? You could just summon it."
Gabrielle turned to face him fully, one eyebrow raised, her expression expectant.
He got the message.
Standing from his stool, Harry crossed to where she stood and reached up for the bottle. The position put him directly in front of her, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body and smell her perfume mixed with her unique aroma, just like before.
She didn't move, and his body gently pressed against hers, his arm brushing her shoulder as he grabbed the bottle. When he brought it down, they were standing so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him.
Neither of them moved.
Gabrielle's eyes were dark in the kitchen light, her pupils dilated. Harry could see the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat, and he could feel his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. The air between them felt electric, charged with raw sexual tension that had been brewing all this while.
This close, he could see flecks of silver in her blue eyes and count each individual eyelash. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath coming quick and shallow as she gazed up at him.
They stared at each other, the moment stretching out, and Harry could see the exact instant they both made the same decision. It was in the way her eyes flickered to his mouth, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips. It was in the way his hand moved almost of its own accord to her waist, his fingers curling into the silky fabric of her dress.
They leaned in slowly, giving each other every chance to pull back, but neither did. Their eyes drifted closed in the last second, and then their lips met.
The kiss started tentative, exploratory. A soft press of mouth against mouth, testing, questioning. Gabrielle's lips were soft and tasted faintly of the drink she'd finished, and when Harry's hand tightened on her waist, she made a small sound that went straight through him.
She responded immediately, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. The kiss deepened, grew more confident, more certain. Her mouth opened under his and Harry didn't hesitate, tasting her properly now, his free hand coming up to cup the back of her neck.
Gabrielle pressed closer, eliminating what little space had existed between them. Her body molded against his, all soft curves and warm skin, and Harry felt something in him that had been tightly controlled start to unravel.
The kitchen counter pressed into her back as Harry crowded her against it, his kiss growing more passionate, more demanding. She met him measure for measure, her fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging slightly. The small bite of pain made him groan into her mouth, and he felt more than heard her answering whimper.
Then something changed. The air around them seemed to shimmer, to thicken, and Harry became aware of a presence that hadn't been there before. Gabrielle's allure, so controlled until now, had begun to slip free.
It washed over him in waves, warm and inviting, making every nerve ending come alive. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her even closer, and her leg hooked around his, the movement hiking her dress up dangerously high.
She was kissing him like she was drowning and he was air, desperate and heated and absolutely intoxicating. Her hands were everywhere: in his hair, on his shoulders, and sliding down his back. Each touch left fire in its wake.
Harry's mouth left hers to trail along her jaw, down the column of her throat, and she arched into him with a gasp that made all rational thought nearly impossible. Her skin was like silk under his lips, and he could feel her pulse racing against his tongue.
"Harry," she breathed, and the way she said his name, breathy and wanting, nearly undid him completely.
He found her mouth again, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, with none of the restraint he'd shown earlier. This wasn't careful or tentative. This was need and want and over a week of tension finally breaking free.
Gabrielle responded in kind, her allure strengthening around them both until the air felt thick with it. Her kisses were fierce, demanding, and when his hand slid up her ribs, coming to rest just below her breast, she pressed into his touch with a soft sound of encouragement.
They stayed like that, pressed together against the kitchen counter, kissing like they'd been waiting their whole lives to do exactly this. The bottle Harry had retrieved lay forgotten on the counter beside them, the drink unmade and unimportant.
All that mattered was this. Her mouth on his, her body against his, and the way she fit perfectly in his arms like she'd been made to be there.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Gabrielle's eyes were glazed with desire, her lips swollen from his kisses. Harry knew he probably looked the same, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
"That," Gabrielle said, her voice rough, "was worth waiting for."
Harry couldn't agree more.
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