Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Thanks soooo much for all the lovely reviews! This is the chapter in which we meet Julia Thomas and hear her story. This is the longest single chapter because I wanted to keep it confined to this one chapter and it spans five days. After this, it's back to Harry, Hermione and Emerson goodness. Rock on and don't forget to review!

Chapter Six

September 21, a year earlier

"Why'd you have to drag me to this, Oliver?" Harry Potter whined as he followed the neat brown head of his Quidditch Captain through the crowded hotel lobby. It was early afternoon in cold, wet September and Harry had been cajoled, coerced and mildly bribed into attending the 48th Annual International Quidditch Conference at the ultra-modern and posh Pegasus Hotel off Diagon Alley.

To say he didn't want to be there would be a gross understatement. Harry Potter hated crowds, always had, a drawback to his days as the Boy-Who-Lived and eventually The-Boy-Who-Kicked-Voldemort's-Arse. Even a Quidditch crowd made him slightly uneasy, unless he was actually in the game and thus somewhat separate from it all.

Oliver Wood thought attending the Conference to be an excellent idea, of course. "Think of all the strategies, gameplans, new manuveurs we could pick up!" he told Harry, gesturing almost maniacally. Which was all good and well, but why did Harry have to be here? Oliver could have taken anyone else or even come alone.

'It's not like he wouldn't tell me about it anyway,' Harry thought irritably.

"Trust me, you'll be thanking me by the end of this," Oliver was saying as they elbowed their way to the lifts. The golden grille gates of the lifts reminded Harry of the ones at the Ministry of Magic but these were more intricately decorated with the wings of, presumably, Pegasus folded over as handles. It was all quite opulent, but tastefully so. The air inside was kept magically at the perfect temperature so even though there was a teeming mass in the lobby, it never got uncomfortably warm. Uniformed bellboys Leviated trunks and other luggage to their respective rooms with merely a touch of their wands.

Harry was too miserable to really take anything in, though. They managed to squeeze into a lift and Oliver pressed the button for the 48th floor. "48th Conference. 48th floor. Get it?" he grinned and Harry rolled his eyes and tried to inconspicuously flatten his bangs over his scar. The people in the lift chattered in French, Italian and variously-accented English and all bore the animated anticipatory expressions of Quidditch freaks.

Much like Oliver.

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long five days.

*************
September 22

"...and as a result of that, the Hawkshead Attacking Formation is the number one and most effective option for such a situation. Thank you," concluded the tiny Japanese presenter, to the polite applause of his audience.

It was the first full day of the Conference and Harry was already counting the days till he could go home. Already, he'd shaken so many enthusiastic hands that it'd be a wonder if he ever regained feeling in his fingers. The Japanese presenter, Yuichiro Hashimoto, in particular had almost crushed Harry's digits in his excitement, his small stature apparently a deceptive indicator of his strength.

Leaving Oliver, who was caught up in an animated conversation with an Italian captain, Harry made a beeline for the hotel's elegant dining room - intending to bury his woes in a nice bowl of pasta. Hermione had highly recommended he try the Pegasus' pasta. Apparently, her new boyfriend Evan Something-or-other had taken her here for her birthday a few days ago.

Thankfully, the dining room was only just filling up and Harry quickly dished himself some aromatic pasta puttanesca. He reached for the bowl of Parmesan cheese and his hand collided with another that was reaching for the same bowl.

"Uh, sorry," he muttered, not looking up. "You go first."

"Thanks." It was a woman's voice and as she shifted closer to grab some cheese, the most delicious smell - quite separate from the odors of garlic, tomato and basil that streamed from his pasta - wafted from her hair. It smelled tropical, like mangoes or kumquats or both. Harry found himself inhaling and admiring the shiny, long, black locks that flowed down her back and before he realized it, he had reached out and touched her hair. A split second later, he drew his hand back as if burned, blushing furiously.

"I- I'm sorry," he stammered, mortified.

The woman looked up at him and smiled. "It's quite alright."

And Harry found himself staring. One of the most beautiful women he had ever seen was smiling at him while he gaped like an imbecile. Her lovely, fragrant hair framed her equally lovely face. She had a long neck, with a small mole at her throat, a graceful jawline, full, red lips, high cheekbones and wide-set, dark eyes. Her finely chiseled features were combined in elegant harmony, coupled with long lashes, arching eyebrows and a slightly upturned nose.

"I'm Crying Wind," she said, her smile exposing perfect, white teeth.

"Uh, what?" Harry shook his head, aware of his face burning.

"My name. Crying Wind. What's yours?"

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry." She smiled at him again and turned to leave.

Harry stared after her, watching the way her light blue robes swirled about her hips as she walked away. She was walking away! She was- "Wait!"

She looked back at him quizzically. Harry hurried forward, the Parmesan cheese long forgotten. "Do you want to get a table?" Real smooth, Potter. Shut up.

To his relief, she only smiled and Harry felt his heart rate speed up. He followed her to a table set back from the others near the wide, bay windows overlooking a lush garden and sat down across from her.

"Ok, let's start over. I'm Harry Potter," he said, grinning nervously.

She laughed softly. "That was pretty 'middle school', wasn't it? I'm Crying Wind." She reached her hand across the table and he shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Crying Wind. Your name's unusual," he said, still holding her hand.

"Yeah, it's American Indian. You can call me 'Julia' if you'd like. It's my English name, I guess you could say." She looked pointedly at where their hands were still joined and Harry dropped it, looking sheepish.

"I hope you don't think I'm some kind of weirdo. I didn't mean to touch your hair; don't know what came over me," he finished lamely.

"It was quite flattering, actually. And your eyes are lovely, by the way." She grinned.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of pasta. "Thanks. So are yours."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Harry could barely keep his eyes of her. "So, you're American?"

She nodded. "I came with the Contingent. That's the League we belong to over there."

"Where in America?"

"Dallas, Texas. I'm with the Dallas Diricawls. What team are you with?" She took a bite of her chicken.

"Puddlemere United. I play Seeker. Do you play?"

She grinned. "Chaser. Or I used to be. Lately, I'm more into strategizing. I still like to fly, but not competitively anymore unless it's just a pick-up game. Or for fun."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. It's just kinda intriguing, planning, ya know? Making game plans, and then seeing them actually unfold on the field. It's satisfying in a different way than scoring a goal. You feel more a part of the whole - like you're involved in every aspect of the game, not just the position you play in." Her dark eyes were flashing with excitement, and as she waved her fork around a speck of tomato sauce landed on Harry's cheek. "Oops. Sorry," she laughed, and reached across and wiped his cheek with her napkin. Harry's skin tingled where she had touched it and again his heart rate sped up.

They spent the rest of lunch laughing as they compared Quidditch stories and Harry found himself quite intrigued by her. She came across as warm, intelligent and completely down-to-earth. In his experience as a celebrity, Harry had encountered countless beautiful women, and the one thing they all had in common - other than their beauty - was their incredible lack of depth. Their shallowness was sometimes astounding. They looked down on people who they perceived to be less wealthy, less 'Pureblood', less beautiful, less whatever and Harry was always uncomfortable in their presence (though that hadn't stopped him from bedding a few. Hey, he's a healthy young male!) because he knew they were only paying him attention because of his scar and/or Quidditch status. He had learned to be wary of beautiful women.

But Julia seemed to have a "Who cares?" attitude to her beauty. She seemed unaware of the effect her attractiveness had on people around her. And she had not commented once on who he was which, to Harry, was undeniably refreshing.

"Whoops," she said after glancing at her watch. "I gotta run. There's a seminar about incorporating Muggle fitness techniques into Quidditch that I want - or rather have - to attend." She stood and tossed her hair out of her face. "It was so nice to talk to you, Harry. I can't believe how the hour has flown."

"Maybe we could do it again?" he surprised himself by suggesting.

She gave that beautiful smile again. "Sure thing. How about dinner? You could bring - what was his name - Oliver?"

No, I don't want to bring Oliver! "Um, sure." Harry stood up and reached out to shake her hand again but she batted it away playfully and gave him a hug instead. She walked away after throwing him a wink and Harry watched her go, feeling unbelievably light of being.

*************

He had dinner with Julia and Oliver that night and was more than a little irritated more than once.

Oliver went on and on about Quidditch and while Julia made a few attempts to steer the conversation to other topics she soon gave up, smiling apologetically at Harry, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. Now, Harry was as devoted a Quidditch fan as any and the #1 Seeker in his League but he wanted to get to know that woman across from him with the laughing dark eyes and he was sure there was more to her than Quidditch, dammit!

Finally, some boisterous friends of Julia's came over to their table and after introductions, Oliver took off with them. Harry and Julia begged off the excursion and instead refilled their wineglasses and went for a walk in the garden.

"It's beautiful here," she said, looking around at the dense foliage of shrub and flower. The air was pleasant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and there were other couples strolling the garden in spite of the chill.

Not as beautiful as you. "Yeah, it is. Let's sit here." He led her to a bench that was kept magically warm, which felt good against the chilly air. They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their wine.

"There's Sirius," Julia said suddenly, looking up.

Harry started and choked and she reached around to pound his back. "You alright?"

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she said, looking concerned.

"It's alright, really. It's just you said 'Sirius'. I had a godfather named Sirius," he explained, not looking at her.

"Oh. Sirius? That's not a very common name, is it?" She seemed to be thinking hard. Then- "Sirius Black?"

Harry looked at her. "Yeah. He was my godfather."

"I'm sorry, Harry." She touched his arm and Harry nodded then shrugged, feeling silly. "It was a long time ago," he muttered.

"No matter. You never forget those you love, whether it's been a month or 30 years. They are always with us for as long as we remember them." She was quiet for a moment. "Tell me about him."

And Harry found himself talking about Sirius, telling her of his parents and their friends. And of Ron and Hermione and Hogwarts. The words were just flowing out of him and he was suddenly frightened.

"Who are you?" he asked her. He was being continuously amazed by how open and honest he was being. For instance, Ron and Hermione were the only people to whom he had spoken to about Sirius, to any great length. And now here he was spilling his heart to a woman he'd only known a few hours!

She was quiet for a long time and Harry thought maybe she hadn't heard him. But then she began to talk. "I am Julia 'Crying Wind' Thomas. Age almost 24. My birthday is this Saturday. Part Cherokee, Part Jamaican. American. Music and poetry buff. Dancer. Quidditch strategist. Bookworm. Procrastinator Extraordinaire. Oreo Addict. Should I go on?"

Harry thought it was an odd way to answer his question, but something she'd said caught his attention. "Oreo addict?" he grinned.

She laughed. "Yeah. I could eat the whole package in one sitting unless somebody stopped me. It's quite pathetic, really."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Berkshire Academy in Massachussetts. It was a good school; I have fond memories." She sounded wistful. "What was Hogwarts like?"

Harry sighed. "It was home. For the most part, I was liked and accepted there - even though I had to contend with the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. I was happier at Hogwarts than anywhere else. What about you? I bet you were really popular and everything?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I had a lot more guy friends than girls. Girls didn't like me, for some reason. I do have a best friend, Merry. We've been best friends since we were 6 years old, so that was lucky. She didn't walk away when things started getting weird and we went to Berkshire together."

Harry could understand why girls avoided her. He had seen the looks women gave her, simulataneously envious and hateful. Next to Julia, most women must feel positively ugly and the fact that she wasn't at all stuck-up probably didn't make things any easier. If she were snooty, they could at least justify disliking her without feeling petty.

"I didn't understand it at the time, and I cried a lot and was depressed a few times. But I do now. I mean.. I understand now. The girls were threatened by me, and add to that it didn't help that I was friends with all the guys, even the ones they liked. That was pretty hard to get used to. I had to learn not to let my looks define me. People make assumptions on how I am based on how I look, which really pisses me off. But it's no different than somebody who's covered in multiple piercings and tattoos. Ya know?" She looked up at him and Harry nodded.

"People then assume that you're into devil worship and virgin sacrifices and all that shit. Only with me, they assumed I had sex on the brain all the time and was out to get their men and make them look bad. But I've more or less come to expect that. That's one reason why I'm glad we met. Maybe you could give me some tips. If anybody knows about being assumed about, it's you, huh?"

Harry snorted. "Truer words were never spoken. It's gotten to be such that I enjoy meeting new Muggles more than meeting new wizards because at least I know the Muggles won't go barmy as soon as they hear my name."

They talked for a long time, about everything and nothing, finding so many things they had in common - like a love for the Muggle band, Travis; a fondness for General Tso's chicken ("It's all I ever order, which really annoys my friend Hermione."); a mutual dislike of early mornings.

Before too long, the grounds had emptied of the other strollers and it was quite late. Harry walked her to her room and bid her goodnight. He had a burning desire to kiss her, but didn't, though he did leave her with the promise of breakfast the next day.

Harry slept soundly that night and dreamed of Oreos, constellations and dark, flashing eyes.

*************
September 23

"Morning," Julia said, stifling a yawn. "Sorry. I hate mornings."

Despite her professed tiredness, she was looking radiant in a patterned, woven red jumper, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and interesting starburst earrings dangling from her ears. Her mocha-colored skin glowed with a healthy sheen and Harry thought she was lovely.

He smiled and put down his plate of pancakes and sausages. "For some reason, I didn't mind getting up this morning."

"Well, there are some pretty good lectures planned for today," she admitted grudgingly.

"I wasn't talking about the lectures," he said, looking her straight in the eyes.

She smiled shyly and dropped her eyes before looking up at him again. "If I'm not mistaken, I do believe you're flirting with me, Harry Potter."

He held her eyes. "That's because I am."

When Harry had woken up that morning, he'd felt a vague sense of happiness that had him bounding out of bed with unusual enthusiasm. He grinned shamelessly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he recalled the lovely dark eyes and sparkling laugh of Julia Thomas. He was attracted to her, there was no doubt about it. And even though he'd been burned before by beautiful women (and to be fair, had done his share of burning), there was something about Julia that had him lowering his walls, at least a little bit. Something that made him want to ignore the fact that in less than three days they would go back to their separate lives, a continent apart. Something about her that had him craving a fling, however tightly scheduled.

Hell, he just wanted to taste those full, red lips.

By the time he came down to the dining room, Harry had decided to make his interest known. If she rebuffed him, it would sting but he'd survive. At least he had tried, right? Now, though-

"Well, I do think you're damn sexy," Julia was saying, then laughed when his eyes widened. "Don't look so shocked! You're not the only one feeling the electricity."

Harry gazed at her open-mouthed before he joined her in laughter. They returned to eating, sneaking glances at each other and grinning. He reached for her hand across the table and squeezed it. "Let's go outside for a bit," he said, suddenly wanting to be alone with her. She nodded and they slipped into their cloaks and went back to the garden they'd been in the night before.

"Here's our bench." They sat and Harry watched her twist her hands in her lap. Could she really be as nervous as he felt? Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he reached for her hand and she looked up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, each mentally debating taking this step, then almost simultaneously, they leaned forward and their lips met.

Harry was struck first by how soft her lips were, how well they molded to his. He kissed her open-mouthed and ran his tongue over her lips and she granted him access with a soft sigh. Harry wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer and feeling like he never wanted to stop kissing her. She felt so good in his arms, her breath warm against his cheek, her breasts pressed against his chest even through their cloaks. But that pesky requirement called breathing soon got in the way and they had to pull apart.

They smiled at each other before Harry cupped her face and kissed her again. His tongue explored her mouth slowly, reveling in the warmth. She tasted so good, like cinammon and orange juice and he felt a tingle run down hs spine as her tongue rubbed against his. Their breathing had sped up again and her hand was caressing his lower back through his cloak.

They broke apart slowly, Julia sucking on his bottom lip and Harry tried to suppress a groan but didn't quite succeed.

She grinned. "You're a good kisser."

He blinked, feeling slightly dazed. "So are you."

She touched her lips and sighed. "What are we doing, Harry?"

He pretended to be puzzled, though he knew what she meant. She gestured between them. "I mean this. Don't get me wrong, that was nice. No, that was very nice. But the Conference is over day after tomorrow and then I go back to Dallas. Besides, you're Harry Potter, and all that that involves. Do you really want to do this?"

Harry looked out across the grounds where the blue hydrangea bushes showed off their blossom clusters. Did he really want to do this? On the one hand, he'd probably never see her again. He didn't kid himself into thinking love was involved here at all. It was purely chemical. Entirely physical. Wasn't it?

He turned back to her. "Do you want to? I don't have any illusions here, Julia. But I like you. I like you... a lot.. and..," he trailed off searching her eyes, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

She stared back at him for a long moment before sighing and cracking a wry grin. "What the hell. I want to. I really like you too, Harry, but just so we know what we're getting into."

He nodded. "At the end of the Conference, that's it. We won't try to make it into anything more."

Julia looked away for a moment, and Harry thought he saw a strange look cross her face but before he could decipher what it meant, it was gone. Maybe he'd imagined it. She looked back at him. "Ok. Besides, every woman should have at least one intense 3-day relationship, right?"

He grinned back, relieved. "Interesting earrings," he said, leaning forward and fingering one.

She stared into his eyes and when she spoke, she sounded strangely out of breath. "It's the sacred Seven Star of the Cherokee." She swallowed visibly. "Stop teasing me."

Harry leaned even closer so their lips were almost touching, but not quite. "How am I teasing you?"

"Just kiss me, damn you," she breathed and he did just that, loving the feel of her hands in his hair, their tongues dueling as they kissed hungrily.

"Crying Wind? Julia? Hey, Julia!"

They broke apart, panting slightly and looked up to see who had intruded on their ardor.

"Julia? What're you doing?! You're supposed to be in the Extreme Feinting lecture and exhibit!" It was a short, blond man with a pot-belly, wearing dark blue Dallas Diricawl robes and looking very upset.

Julia pulled out of Harry's embrace, looking sheepish. "Tom! I'm so sorry. I completely forgot."

Tom cast her a disdainful look. "Apparently. Come on, it only just started. You might not have missed much."

"I'll see you later?" she asked Harry.

"Sure thing," he said, giving her a quick hug. "If I don't see you before then, how about dinner?"

She smiled. "You're on. Bye-bye." And Tom practically frog-marched her into the hotel.

Harry sat back down and sighed contentedly. Somehow, the Conference didn't seem quite so bad afterall.

************

"Didn't you say your birthday was coming up?" Harry asked Julia after dinner that night. They had just wandered out to the garden, bundled up against the cold but simply unable to stay away. There was something magnetic about that garden.

"It's tomorrow, actually," she said, brushing some leaves off what had unofficially been dubbed 'Their Bench'.

He stopped short. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Why?" She looked amused.

Harry sat down and took her hand. "Let me take you out tomorrow. I can show you the sights and all that."

"I'd love to, Harry, but I can't." She pouted prettily. "I have three lectures lined up to attend and you saw how Tom was freaking out earlier and I'd barely missed five minutes of it."

"How about just dinner, then? But we'll go out into London rather than eat in the dining room."

She stroked his cheek, her eyes caressing his. "You really want to? You don't have to do that, you know."

Harry felt his heart twitch at her adoring gaze. "I really want to, Julia," he said, kissing her fingers.

"We'll do that then." She smiled and snuggled up to him, nuzzling his neck and they began to snog like teenagers. They felt themselves getting caught up, hands wandering over each other and Harry was incredibly turned on. He wanted her, but he wasn't feeling quite brave enough to try to initiate something more. He didn't want to rush her.

'But it's not like I have a lot of time,' he told himself as he caressed her breasts through her jumper. Julia gurgled and leaned into him and, encouraged, Harry's hands crept under the shirt and pushed her bra up. She moaned as he tweaked her nipples and her hands groped around his lap tantalizingly. Harry lifted his hips into her hands, silently begging her to do it again as he kissed her with increasing pressure, his tongue thrusting into her mouth hungrily.

"Oi! Get a room!" Laughter. "This is a 'otel; there are rooms aplenty, fer crying out loud!"

Julia pulled away and giggled breathlessly, blushing. Far from that reaction, Harry was annoyed. Muttering a few choice words under his breath, he straightened her clothes and pulled her up. "Let's go up."

But, alas, they were not to have any more time alone that night. On the way to Harry's room, they bumped into some of Julia's co-workers who frantically insisted that there was something or other really important that they needed her expert advice on, and they were really sorry but we need ya to look at this, Crying Wind, and innocent babies will die, the Earth will stop spinning on its axis if you don't come right now and-

"ALRIGHT!" Julia yelled. She glared at them and they sported identical innocent grins. "Honestly! With friends like you guys!" She turned to Harry, her eyes gone pleading. "I am so sorry. These mufuhs.."

"Hey!" they chorused, now adopting identical wounded looks. She stuck her tongue out at them.

Harry hugged her. "I'm sorry too," he whispered. "Just clear your parchment for tomorrow night," he added, quite seriously.

He felt her smile against his neck. "I promise."

As Harry watched her go, playfully slapping at her boisterous friends - even though his loins ached - he couldn't be too upset. There was, afterall, the promise of tomorrow.

****************
September 24

Harry pushed Julia's chair forward, then quickly sat down across from her. They were in one of London's best Muggle restaurants, Fifteen, whose owner, Jamie Oliver, was a good friend of Harry's. He'd sent Jamie an owl the night before begging an emergency table and Jamie had managed to conjure one up in the busy restaurant. Fifteen was usually booked up to a year in advance, so Harry was really grateful.

"This place is awesome!" Julia was saying as she looked around. And it was. The restaurant was designed with a retro styling and an open kitchen, which made for a relaxed and friendly dining experience. There were splashes of color everywhere, bright red leather booths, a large mural painted directly on one wall. The painting kept changing color, which Jamie had said only wizardfolk could see, of course. To Muggles, the painting didn't shift. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen and the steady buzz of conversation all around made for pleasant background noise.

"Hey mate!" A jovial-looking young man with tousled, slightly curly blond hair and crinkled blue eyes was striding up to their table, wearing a dark blue and white striped apron over jeans and a white shirt.

"Jamie!" Harry stood up and gave him a manly hug. "Thanks for this. I really appreciate it."

Jamie glanced at Julia with an appreciative air and grinned conspiratorially. "No problem. Who's the lovely lady?"

"This is Julia Thomas. Julia, Jamie Oliver, Chef Extraordinaire and celebrity."

Jamie laughed. "Don't listen to him. Lovely to meet you, darlin'. My wife is Julia too, but we call her Jules." He bent and kissed her hand.

Julia beamed him one of her megawatt smiles and he blinked. "Nice to meet you too, Jamie. I've heard of you."

"You have?" Jamie sounded pleased.

"Yeah. You have a show called 'Oliver's Twist', right? My mom loves to watch it," she told him. "The stuff always looks so good, and I think it's wonderful what you're doing with your charity. I'm looking forward to experiencing the goodness finally."

"Lovely. Just let your waiter know what you want and we'll whip you up something damn tasty. Nice to see you again, Harry, mate. Drop me a line sometime." He slapped Harry on the back and bounded off to greet some other guests, leaving Harry and Julia grinning behind him.

"My mom will be tickled that I met him," Julia said as she sipped her wine. "Man, this is good stuff!"

Harry smiled at her enjoyment. "Glad you like it. You look absolutely ravishing, by the way."

She blushed. "Thank you. You clean up quite nicely, yourself."

"Hey! Don't bite the hand that feeds you." They laughed and Harry had honestly never seen a more breathtaking woman. Her luscious hair was swept up in an elegant updo, with loose tendrils falling about her long neck as if beckoning him to kiss them away. She was wearing a long, sleeveless black dress with a deep V-neck, which hugged her curves. Minimal makeup, small diamond studs and strappy heels completed her outfit. Her skin seemed to glow from within, with a luminous light.

Harry was dressed in the suit he had decided to pack at the last minute and he was glad he had. In anything else, he would have looked woefully inadequate next to Julia but the black suit, white shirt with bow-tie and wingtips lent him a distinguished air and he had felt quite proud to escort her through the restaurant. Of course, Harry hadn't noticed the appreciative glances he had garnered from more than a few women.

The fact that Fifteen was primarily a Muggle establishment, and so well-booked at that, made it less likely that Harry would have to deal with any media attention. Besides, the Obscurity Charm he'd placed on their table rendered them virtually invisible to anyone who didn't know they were there. So far, only Jamie and their waiter did and Harry hoped it would stay that way.

"Thank you for doing this, Harry. This is the nicest birthday present I've ever gotten." Julia took his hand across the table and Harry kissed it, wishing he could kiss so much more. Soon, old boy.

"My pleasure," he said, looking up at her through his eyelashes and could have sworn that Julia moaned. Well, her eyes were rather bright anyway and she seemed to be breathing a bit too fast for a sitting position.

He dropped her hand and mentally willed the waiter to bring their food pronto because he was dying to get out of there, no offense to Jamie Oliver or Fifteen. He just wanted to finish what he and Julia had started the night before. He hadn't had a chance to so much as grab a kiss from her all day. Besides, he was trying to kinda let the anticipation build. Well, boy, was it building! Harry had gone hard at his first sight of Julia in that dress and the look in her eyes right now made him want to throw her onto the table and shag her senseless.

'Not a bad idea,' he thought, positively leering at her. 'There's the Obscurity Charm and nobody can see us-'

"Here you go, darlin'," Jamie said as he set a steaming plate before Julia.

Well, scratch that.

Harry thanked Jamie who reminded them to let him or their waiter know if they needed anything. The aromas from their food was mouthwatering and, without further ado, they tucked in.

"Mmmm," Julia moaned, closing her eyes as she savored a bite of her grilled sirloin of McDuff beef (hung for 30 days) wrapped in prosciutto with garlic mash, caramelised endive and chanterelle mushrooms. "This is simply heavenly!"

Harry's mouth was too full for him to speak, so he nodded enthusiastically instead. His line-caught Atlantic halibut tranche baked with lemon, anchovy and rosemary, with onion, fennel and parsley salad was unbelievable. Conversation was forgotten as they savored their meal and when the last bite had been swallowed, they both sighed in contentment and sank back into their chairs.

After a few minutes of sipping their wines, Harry leaned forward. Now that the meal was over, he was once again being forcefully reminded of the unfinished business between himself and Julia. "How about dessert?"

She caught his tone and gave him a saucy grin. "What do you have in mind?"

Harry grinned right back. "You really wanna know?" His voice had gone husky and he thought he saw Julia shiver. Maybe she was cold. She licked her lips and nodded.

He pretended to think hard. "Well, it involves you, me and my hotel room."

"What else?" she asked breathlessly.

He searched her eyes. "Some champagne. And us naked."

"Well I have just one question for you, Mr. Potter."

"What's that?"

"What the hell are we still doing here?"

With that, Harry waved Jamie over, paid the bill and after profuse thanks and good wishes to Jules and the girls, Harry and Julia went back to their Obscured table and Disapparated.

They arrived in the Pegasus' lobby, the designated Apparation spot and hurried to the lifts. "Yours or mine?" he asked as the doors closed.

"Mine. It's closer." She pressed number 28 and Harry squeezed her hand. "Harry-" she began, but Harry couldn't wait anymore and kissed her. Her arms went immediately around his neck and he pushed her against the wall of the lift as their tongues met and mated frantically. His lips left her mouth and went to where her shoulder met her neck and she moaned deep in her throat. Harry couldn't get enough of her. She smelled so good! Her hands were on his butt when the lift dinged and announced "The 28th floor." They broke apart and stumbled out and Julia practically dragged him to her door.

"Dammit," she swore as she fumbled with her wand, trying to open the door.

"Here, let me." A quick Alohomora and they were inside. They paused just long enough to toss their wands and her purse on the table before they were in each other's arms again. Harry was floored by how delicious she tasted - like sweetness and red wine. And so warm.

They managed to stumble their way into her bedroom and collasped on the bed, lips fused, hands feverishly clutching at clothes, eagerly racing for the reward just beyond their reach...

*************
September 25

The sound of loud laughter outside woke Harry the next morning. He raised his head and listened as the noise faded down the hallway and rubbed his eyes. Groaning, he rolled over and found his face smushed against a fragrant mane of dark hair. The sweet scent of mangoes or kumquats or both (he'd have to remember to ask her about that) filled his nostrils and in a rush, images of the night before flooded his brain.

Harry rolled onto his back and grinned sleepily. He felt wonderfully alive and his muscles ached pleasurably. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well or the last time he'd had such extraordinary sex. His last relationship had been more than six months previous and he hadn't been that sexually involved with the girl anyhow. She had had some issues that didn't make for a roaring sex life, to say the least.

But Julia... Harry closed his eyes and smiled to himself, remembering. She was such a great lover, eager and responsive, who gave as good as she got. She was not at all shy about voicing her joy or telling him what she wanted. And what a body! He'd found himself unable to get enough of her, barely giving her time to recover before he started working her again. He just could not help himself.

Julia mumbled and rolled over, baring her beautiful, full breasts and Harry was instantly wide awake and aroused. His fingers itched to touch her, to caress her, to make her cry out his name again in that breathy way she had.

'Geez, give her a chance to rest, you horny bastard,' he scolded himself. 'You've already completely worn her out.'

So instead, Harry slipped out of bed slowly, so as not to disturb her and padded to the bathroom. He took a long shower, secretly hoping that she would wake up and join him (they'd almost broken their necks in here last night!) but when he came out she was still fast asleep. He put on his clothes from the night before, left her a note saying he'd be back, and slipped out of her room.

When he got to his suite on the 48th floor, it was to the sight of Oliver Wood knocking on his door.

Oliver looked up. "Oh, there you are! You're up already? Good. Listen, there's a Conference-wide pickup game this afternoon and I told them you'd play Seeker."

Harry glared at him. "Do I have any choice at all in the matter, Oliver?" He opened his door and they stepped inside.

Oliver ignored him. "The game is at 2 o'clock. You'll be playing for the European team against the North & South American team. And of course they're right chuffed to have you!"

Harry went into his bedroom and started to change. "What if I said I have other plans?" he called. He didn't really, other than staying in and making more amazing love with Julia; not a bad idea, but she'd probably want to watch or help plan the game. Besides, the thought of playing alongside some of the best players in the world was undeniably exciting. No, Harry just wanted to yank Oliver's chain a bit, knowing exactly how the other man would react.

Sure enough, Oliver began spluttering. "What?!" he yelled. "Are you crazy, Harry? You'll be on the same team with Aidan Lynch, Dimitrov, Moran! What could be more important than that? You need to sort out your priorities! Are you insane?!"

Harry laughed as he pulled on a dark blue jumper over his jeans. "Calm down Oliver, before you bust a vessel. I'm just having you on. Of course I'll play." He ducked as Oliver pretended to swat him.

"Prat. Where were you last night, anyway? I came by to tell you about the game but you didn't answer the door."

"I was.. ah.. sorta busy." Harry stooped and fiddled with his laces, trying to hide his blush.

"Busy? Hmm.. I bet it was that pretty American witch. Did you shag her?" Oliver laughed when he saw Harry's red face. "You did, didn't you? Not that I blame you, Harry, mate. She is way hot."

Harry grinned. "Careful, Oliver. You're giving me good blackmail ammunition here. Think about Katie." Oliver was married to their former schoolmate, Katie Bell.

"Ah, Katie knows she's my number-one girl. That doesn't mean I can't admire beauty when I see it. You feeling peckish?"

Harry shook his head. "Not right now. I told Julia I'd be back." He ushered Oliver out and they headed to the lifts. "Do I just go down to the pitch at 2 o'clock or what?"

"Actually, we're to meet in the Dumbledore Ballroom at 1 for some last minute strategizing and so everyone can meet everyone," Oliver told him. He glanced at his wristwatch. "It's almost 9am, so about 4 hours."

The lift stopped on the 28th floor and Harry got out. "Alright. See you then."

"Don't shag yourself out. You need to save your energy for the match!" Oliver yelled after him as Harry walked away.

"Sod off, Oliver!"

Harry was grinning as he let himself into Julia's room and his grin widened when he saw her. She had obviously just come out of the shower and was toweling her hair dry, looking well-scrubbed and strangely younger than her newly 24 years. "Hey," he said as he walked over to her. He gathered her into his arms and gave her a long, leisurely kiss.

"Mmmm." She smiled up at him. "You're in a good mood this morning, Mr. Potter."

"Well, after the night I had can you blame me?" He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent. "Hey, what do you use in your hair? I keep trying to figure out what the scent is."

"It's a herbal shampoo that has, among other things, mango, papaya and some kinda citrus. I can't remember the name of it," she replied.

"Kumquats?"

"Ya know... yeah! That's it. You know your scents."

Harry's eyes darkened. "There's a particular scent I'm craving right about now," he murmured into her ear.

Her breath hitched. "Oh really?"

"Yeah." His hand slipped beneath her bathrobe. She moaned and threw her head back and her hand crept under his jumper. Harry picked her up and carried her to the bed and needless to say, they didn't leave the room for a long time.

*************

The pickup game had all the markings of a full-fledged World Cup match - with the notable exception being that instead of each side cheering one particular country, they were cheering a whole collection of countries. Harry felt wonderful soaring above the stands that had been hastily put together, feeling the cold wind blowing through his hair. The stands were packed with the Conference people and whatever other guests were staying at the hotel. No outsiders or media were allowed, what with so many high profile players in the game; it was a matter of security and sanity.

Hours later, they were all sitting around the Dumbledore Ballroom drinking beer while they laughed and analyzed the match. The game had gone on for almost three fierce and exhilarating hours and Harry was currently engrossed in conversation with the Atlanta Alchemists Seeker, Orlando Vaughn, a tall bald, black man a little older than Harry who had been the Seeker for the North/South American team.

It had been a close game, the North/South team leading by more than 100 points when Harry caught the Snitch after a spectacular dive. The Europeans won by a mere 40 points, and Harry recognized what a great player Orlando was. Apparently, he also had a wicked sense of humor because Harry had been laughing almost non-stop the entire conversation. Julia was with a group of fellow strategists who were analyzing a particularly thrilling moment when there had been some kind of bizarre combination of the Hawkshead and the Porskoff Play that had worked beautifully for the North/South team. It had come about purely by accident but they were trying to figure out how it had happened so they could duplicate it.

The conversations continued all through dinner and into the night and it was after midnight when Harry bid his adieus. Julia was still animatedly demonstrating her take on what they were calling the Hawkskoff Medley and not wanting to interrupt her, he slipped away to his room and went to bed.

He was awakened by somebody kissing along his jawline, and he needed only take a breath to know who it was, even though he couldn't see without his glasses. "Julia?"

"Yeah. Let's go outside," she whispered.

"What?" He fumbled for his glasses and put them on. "It's- it's 4 o'clock in the morning!"

"I know. Bet you've never been outside at 4 o'clock. Come on, Harry Potter, live a little!" She began to pull on his arms and after a few minutes of whining, Harry got out of bed, pulled on some clothes and his cloak and let Julia drag him to the garden. They sat down at Their Bench and she leaned back in his arms. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Harry had to admit that it was rather nice. The grounds were completely deserted and fog was beginning to creep upon them from the far corners of the hotel, lending an eerie air to the whole thing. The sky was black, a few stars were visible through the encroaching mist and Julia pointed them out before reciting something that sounded like:

Scintillate, scintillate globule vivific
Fain do I fathom thy nature specific
Loftily perched in the ether capacious
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous

Harry's brow wrinkled. "What?"

She turned to him and grinned. "That's just a nerdy way of saying "Twinkle, twinkle little star." She laughed at his expression then hugged him suddenly. "Oh, Harry! I'm gonna miss you so much!"

He hugged her back. "I'm going to miss you too. We could always write to each other. You know, keep in touch?"

Julia pulled away and seemed to be blinking back tears before shaking her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Because it wouldn't work," was her response.

Harry opened his mouth to ask her why she thought it wouldn't work, but she put a finger to his lips. "Shh. Let's do something else. Something we both like. Something that needs no debate."

She kissed him on the cheek, on the forehead, his nose. She took his glasses off and kissed each eye, soft, feather-light kisses that gave Harry goosebumps. He grasped her face and returned the soft, light kisses before capturing her lips deeply. It was a long time before they pulled away, breathing heavily and Harry shifted her onto his lap. She was wearing a long, white nightgown that he pushed up as he ran a hand up and down her thigh and she undid his pants and pushed them down. Harry groaned into her mouth.

He broke the kiss and slipped her cloak off then lifted her nightgown over her head, before putting her cloak back on her. Despite the chill, her skin was almost hot to the touch as she writhed in his lap.

"Please, Harry. I need you," she gasped, and he obeyed without hesitation.

The sudden urgency meant that it was over quickly and they clung to each other, the fog swirling all around them now and the fine mist feeling wonderful on their flushed skin. Afterwards, they sat there in the murky darkness as their breathing slowly returned to normal and the blood pounded in their ears.

Harry wanted to resume their earlier conversation but he was feeling too blissful to bother and his interrupted sleep was catching up with him. Finally they went back to his room, Harry gathered her into his arms and they fell deeply into dreamless slumber.

**************
September 26

When Harry woke on the last day of the Conference, the first thing he noticed was that he was alone in the bed. He rolled over and put on his glasses and saw her standing by the window, her long, black hair a stark contrast with the white of her robes.

She was leaving today and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, they lived so far apart and was he really ready for a long-term relationship? His last one hadn't ended well and besides, they had agreed not to pursue anything although Harry didn't understand why she was so adamant about that. It was for the best though, wasn't it?

But on the other hand, something inside Harry ached at the thought of never having another of those insanely long conversations with her again; at the thought of never hearing her laughter again; at the thought of never again being enveloped by her wonderful, wet warmth. How could not having something that good be for the best? He knew he didn't love her - there was someone he'd been in love with for years, but he didn't stand a chance with her - but he did feel something for Julia.

Rubbing his head in confusion, Harry got up and walked over to her. As he neared, he was aware of her shoulders shaking. He thought maybe she was laughing silently about something but when he laid a hand on her shoulder, she spun around and Harry drew his hand back in shock. Julia's face was awash with tears, her beautiful features twisted in abject misery. She had obviously been biting her lips in an effort to keep quiet but seeing that he was up, a cry so fraught with despair came from her mouth and she launched herself into his arms.

Harry staggered backward in surprise, even as his arms went around her. "Julia? What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you ok?" He gathered her hair, which was wet, away from her face, trying to look into her eyes but she clung to him.

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed. "Please d-don't, don't le-" She broke off and shuddered in his arms.

Harry was confused and alarmed. Don't what? What didn't she want him to do? But when he tried to get her to elaborate she just shook her head and begged him to hold her. At a loss as to what else to do, he obeyed and gradually she calmed down.

After a while, she drew away from him and wiped her swollen eyes shakily. "I'm sorry. I.. I didn't mean to fall apart like that. Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, gazing at her perplexed. She gave him a watery smile and slapped his bare butt. "Well, why don't you take a shower and I'll order some breakfast? Go on."

Harry didn't move; he just stood there staring at her while she stared back and after a few minutes, her brave facade crumbled and tears began to fall down her cheeks again. She took his hand and led him to the bed, drying her eyes as she went. They sat and Julia leaned over and kissed him, softly and sweetly. Harry was still very confused but he knew this would cheer her up so he let her. She straddled him, undoing her robe and pushed him down on the bed. He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her back, feeling the heat rising in his body as her tongue caressed his.

He lay back and let her do what she wanted. She gave him her all, her everything and when, almost simultaneously, they reached that blissful peak, Harry felt such a profound sense of connection with her that he wept. He didn't know why he cried; they just held each other, two confused young people seeking comfort. And finding it.

*************

She never did tell him what had made her so upset that morning but they parted as friends, Julia trying valiantly not to cry again. Harry hugged her for a long time before letting her join her teammates, who were watching avidly.

"Goodbye, Harry. I will never forget you," she whispered.

"Bye."

She walked toward her teammates and touched the wooden spoon they were using as a Portkey. A few more seconds, one final wave and she was gone.

Harry stood there for a long moment and stared at the spot where she had been before he picked up his bag and joined Oliver at the Apparation point.

"Ready to go, mate?" Oliver asked.

He nodded, and was suddenly reminded of Oliver telling him at the start of the Conference that Harry'd be thanking him by the end. Well, he'd been right. Not that Harry would ever tell Oliver that.

At least they had parted as friends. Who knows, maybe they would bump into each other someday. Whatever else happened, wherever life took him, Harry knew he would never forget her either.