Unfortunately for Elissa

Title: Unfortunately for Elissa
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Pairing(s): Harry/OFC
Summary: Harry accidentally met Hermione’s Muggle sister in Diagon Alley who she had never told him about. It had the makings of a love story. Unfortunately for Elissa Granger, Harry was already in love with Malfoy’s little sister…

Author’s Note: Well, I can’t believe I’m posting it. Over the years, I’ve fleshed out various families based off of interviews from JKR or sheer whim of fancy. One character is Elissa, Hermione’s little sister. According to an interview… at some point… JKR admitted that Hermione was supposed to have a little sister, but she never got mentioned and then it seemed “too late.” Iolanthe is completely of my own creation. I imagine Draco, under other circumstances, would have two younger sisters: Lacerta (Lacy) and Iolanthe (Io). The two characters were created for a joint chaptered fic written in 2012 with Kamerreon.

Warnings: absolutely no idea. I think this is angst with a bit of fluff… or fuff with a bit of angst. *facepalm*

She was sitting alone in Florean Fortesque’s, a large battered copy of Dracula in her hand, just the one he wanted to get for Io.  This girl (this Muggle) was so pale that if Harry hadn’t seen a real vampire for himself that Christmas, he could easily have taken her for one.  She was so solitary that, despite the fact that he should be out looking for Ron and Hermione, he sat down across from the girl.

“Good book?” he offered, and she looked over the top of it with golden brown eyes.

“I didn’t know the average wizard read Muggle literature,” she began carefully.

“Luckily for you, I’m not the average wizard.”  He took the book an inspected it.  “I read Interview with the Vampire when I was going through my angst stage, but never the original Dracula.  Have you seen the film?”  Sirius had set up an old projector in Grimmauld Place and had magicked Harry’s videos into old reels of film.  He’d convinced Draco to let Io come over for an afternoon where the two watched and threw popcorn at each other.  Harry couldn’t imagine how he’d rather spend his afternoon.

“Yes.  My sister says I’m ridiculous and vampires really aren’t as handsome as Gary Oldman.”

“His hair is interesting, though, isn’t it, when he’s still the Count?  I wonder who did make up design.”

She looked at him, her brown hair back in a bun.  Then she held out her hand.  “Elissa.”

Harry took it.  “I don’t much care for my name,” he admitted.  Io had admitted she didn’t much care for it, that he should change it once he was adopted.  He had a tendency of humoring her.  “I’m thinking of changing it.”

“What to?”

“Hadn’t really thought,” he lied casually.  “I was hoping to go to Flourish and Blotts and get a Names Dictionary if my friends didn’t turn up, but I saw you—I saw Dracula—and decided not to do that.”

She blushed.  “Maybe we can go together?  I’m not expecting anyone for at least an hour, so I won’t be missed.”  Not seeing Ron or Hermione anywhere, and knowing the Malfoys wouldn’t be shopping that day, Harry agreed.

Elissa was wearing a blue summer dress and black leggings with heeled sandals and looked quite out of place in Flourish and Blotts, where everyone was wearing robes.

“This section!” Elissa called, moving off to the side and down the back.  “I know my bookstores.”

There was a whole collection of baby books along with three books on names.  “The big one looks dodgy,” Harry said.  “It looks more like a dictionary.”

“Latin names or English ones, then?” Elissa asked. 

“I need a heavenly body, so it better be Latin.”

“Right,” she picked it up and began to flip through.  “Any letter preference?”

“Well, I heard about this moon.”

She looked at him with her large golden brown eyes for more information, but he was silent.  Somehow, she reminded him of someone, but he wasn’t quite sure of whom.  “Moon?” she urged.

“He was a Titan—a god.  My friend’s little sister suggested him.”

“All right, what’s his name?”  Her hands were poised on the book and as she looked up at him.

“Hyperion,” he breathed.

She flipped through the book.  “Greek.  A Titan as you said.  It means “leader”.”

He laughed.  Trust Io.

“That’s a ‘yes’ then.  It’s one of Saturn’s moons.  You were right.”  She laughed up at him.  “Now, my name.  Roman Mythology, originally from Carthage.  Another name for Dido.  Well, didn’t she meet a tragic end?  The love of her life sailed off and married another woman—and she threw herself on a sword.  Lucky love life I’ll have, I suppose.”

“You’ve read the Aeneid.”

“As have you.  Odyssey?”

“Just the Illiad.”

“And here I thought they didn’t teach the classics at Hogwarts.”  She lifted up her hand and he helped her from the ground.  “Well, you’re definitely a pureblood as you’re dressed all in black.”  It had been a bit of a fight between him and Sirius.  Sirius, while laid back, insisted that he act the heir to his house since he had learned he couldn’t have children.  Wearing pureblood black was part of that.  In the end, Iolanthe had been the deciding factor.  The young twelve-year-old Slytherin had rather stolen his heart away from him. 

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Consider me deceived, Hyperion.”  She put the book on the shelf.  “Do you have school shopping to do?”

“Did it all last week,” he admitted.  “I just came to meet some friends when I saw you.  And, as I said, I was nipping off here.”

She blushed.  “Well, I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”  She kissed his cheek and began to dart away, but he grabbed her wrist.

“How can I find you again?”  The girl seemed pleasant enough—and she was just so different from all the sycophants in Gryffindor.

“Elissa Gosling.  I live in Rowleth End, Yorkshire.”

“Elissa Gosling, then,” he said with a smile as she pranced her way out of the bookshop.  It was time to find Ron and Hermione.

Sirius Black was grinning like a dog.  “You picked up a Muggle in Diagon Alley?  If only James were here to hear this!  His own son, romancing Muggles in Diagon Alley!”

“She helped me pick out what name I want to be known under,” he said defensively, “once the adoption’s officially gone through.  Hyperion Black.”

It was the summer before Harry’s seventh year and the war, long gone, was but a memory.  Sirius had ended up in Azkaban for killing twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew, but had fortunately been found innocent by a court of law about a year earlier.  He was now the seated Lord Black and Harry, through his own grandmother Dorea Potter née Black, was his heir.

“I thought little Iolanthe Malfoy was talking about that name?”  Sirius looked at him for a long second before deciding something silently.  “Hyperion.  I like it.  But are you sure you want to do that to the memory of your parents?”

“You have me dressing like a pureblood!”

“And I’m letting you chase after a Muggle!  Give me some credit, Harry.  You may need to look and act the part since all of England’s eyes are on us, yes, us, but I won’t stand in the way of your happiness.  If you don’t want to go on marriage dates with stuck-up purebloods, then the more power to you.  What’s her name?”

“Elissa.  Elissa Gosling.”

“Right.  If I remember correctly, you call her on the phone.  Any idea where she lives?”

“Rowleth End in Yorkshire.”

“Good.  Good.  There’s an old telephone room here that mother had put in when she thought that wizards were going to start using them.  I’ve had Kreacher keep it up but with a magical directory—we’ll soon find her.”

Half an hour later, Harry was squashed in this little room, holding an antique telephone and hearing it ring.  Finally, someone picked up.

“Hello?” A familiar voice asked.

“Elissa?” he questioned, thinking it must be her.

“No, she’s my sister,” the voice said, clearly put out.  “I’ll get her for you.”  He heard the sister shout out for Elissa and then steps sound from somewhere.

“Hello?”

“Elissa?  It’s Hyperion.  I was just wondering if you wanted to go for tea tomorrow.”

“Are you even in Yorkshire?”

“No, but I can easily get there.”  He’d sooner get to Malfoy Manor and watch Iolanthe try to explain again why divination was important, however this was second choice, he supposed.  “Just give me the name and address of where you want to meet, and I’ll be there on time.  So, tea?”  He looked out the door at Sirius who gave him a thumbs up.

There was a pause.  “All right,” she said finally.  “There’s this pub, about a mile down the lane.  I’m sure they have tea.”

“Great!  What time suits?”

“Half past three?”  That meant he’d have to delay his visit to Malfoy Manor for a day.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t just invite Draco and Io over, forgetting the middle sister Lacerta.  She had a habit of asking him questions that would determine whether or not he would make an ideal husband when she got out of Hogwarts.  It was a little frightening.  Draco, the prat, found it hilarious.

“All right,” Harry agreed.

“Wear something other than black.”

The conversation ended.

Sirius was overjoyed.  However, he had made Harry throw out all of his old Muggle clothes once he’d taken custody of him.  Sometimes he just acted like a pureblood, through and through.  Harry found it very confusing.

Harry was searching through his drawers when he finally found a Gryffindor pride long-t shirt that was red and, well, black.  However, it was better than nothing.

Elissa was late the next day.  Harry had taken a booth and had ordered a pot of tea, the bags laid out for them in a box, and it was nearly four o’clock.  He kept on surreptitiously heating up the pot with his wand, not wanting it to get cold.  Then, finally, he saw her coming up on her bicycle, wearing Muggle jeans and a loose tanktop.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she sat across from him.  “It’s my sister. We had an epic row.”

“What about?”  He had a feeling he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“She thinks you’re some pureblood who’s out for sport.  I told her you weren’t like that, but she just wouldn’t listen.”

“And your sister—she’s a witch?” Harry asked curiously as she chose Lady Grey and showed it to him.  He nodded.

“Yes.  She’s a Muggleborn, obviously.  Well, not obviously.  She’s my half-sister, through my mother.  It’s complicated.”

Harry sat forward.  “Uncomplicate it.”  He smiled at her.  He hoped it was the winning smile that always won over Hermione when he hadn’t done his schoolwork. 

“There was an American soldier coming through when my sister was an infant, and my mother had an affair with him.  His name was Captain Gosling.  Mum became pregnant and Dad, well, my stepdad, forgave her and took me in.  Mum always insisted I carry my biological father’s name, though.  Gosling.”

“What happened to Captain Gosling?”

“He went home to his wife and children,” she said sadly.  “I don’t think he knows about me.”

“I’m being adopted, which is strange.”  Then again, with the adoption had come an introduction to Sirius’s cousin, Lady Malfoy, a friendship with Draco and this odd bond he had with Iolanthe.  “My godfather, who’s also my closest living relative, through a strange coincidence, insists that I act like the pureblood heir.  He says he won’t have anything negative said about his house, but my mum’s a Muggle-born and, well, my godfather’s always one for a love story, so he helped me out in finding your number.”  However, Harry didn’t want this love story.  There was only one he wanted—and he just couldn’t have it.

“Do you—do you want to be adopted?” 

Yes, if it meant one more second with Iolanthe.

“Oh yes.  I hate my mother’s sister’s family.  They’re horrible.”

She smiled at him sadly.  “I guess we’re both displaced in the world, Hyperion.”

“I guess we both are.”  Harry paused for a second.  “So you like literature.  Going for your A-level?”

“Yes.  In everything.  I’m a bit of a bookworm, but I have the best shot of getting an A in Classics, Latin, and English Literature.  I hope to go to Cambridge next year.”

“It’s my last year at Hogwarts,” he admitted.  “Then I have my N.E.W.T.s.  Horrible, nasty things.”

She giggled.

“Not that I need them.  I’m independently wealthy.”

Elissa set down her cup harshly.  “You want to do nothing?”

Bristling, Harry looked at her.  “I didn’t say that.  Heirs have several options, they just don’t require N.E.W.T.s.”  He’d hashed it all over with Draco.  He didn’t want to take his place studying and sit on the Wizengamot or fund political causes.

Iolanthe had given him the idea, actually.  He had been sprawled on the lawn in pureblood black when she had snapped a photograph of him and had claimed she would sell it in Slytherin as he made the perfect model.  Harry rather liked the idea.  It was something casual, it used his fame for something frivolous, and he wouldn’t have to dress himself.  People would also recognize him for something other than being the Boy-Who-Lived.  It was also the sort of casual decadence he dreamed of as a child when he was scrubbing the kitchen floor at the Dursleys’.

Still, Elissa seemed put out.

“Well, I promise not to tell my sister,” she swore.  “She’d find it an insult to all the hardwork she puts into her studies.  She’s in Gryffindor.”

“I’m a Gryffindor,” he told her.  “Perhaps we know each other, perhaps not.  One can never be sure.  I wish I didn’t know a lot of the Gryffindors I do.”  He shuddered.  As soon as he was named Heir to Lord Black, he was inundated with fans and hangers-on.  Girls wanted to date him, boys wanted to be him.  It was too much to deal with at times. 

Ron had gone off on him, again, and Harry had just let it go.  He had also found an unlikely ally in Malfoy, who turned out to be Heir Draco Malfoy.  He understood the pressures of it all.  He was determined to use the influence to gain a marriage date with this witch he had secretly loved for years, and was now happily going on marriage dates with her.  Come to think of it, Malfoy probably wouldn’t understand his seeing Elissa at all.  He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of it himself.

A hand enveloped his.  “Come back to me,” a sweet voice said and he found himself looking into golden brown eyes.

“I’m sorry.  The adoption—it’s just—so much has changed—I really don’t know how to describe it.”  That was a lie.

“Then don’t try, not yet anyway,” she suggested.  “Enjoy your tea.  It’s getting cold.”

He snuck his wand out.  “Don’t tell,” he mock-whispered and she started laughing.

They walked down the lane to a bookstore, where the shopkeeper greeted Elissa by name.  “I just have this one book I need to pick up,” she told him.  “They’re my guilty pleasure.”

“A Song of Ice and Fire?” he read.  “I don’t think I’ve tried these.”  He picked up the first book and started reading.  His eyebrows rose.  “Winter is coming?”

“Winter is coming,” she agreed. 

Harry put it back it back, finding it odd, and watched Elissa as she paid.  His eyes skimmed the books to see if there was something Io would like, but nothing really grabbed him.  Then he saw it.  He took it down and turned over the back.

“Oh no,” Elissa said.  “She can’t write at all.”

Opening it, Harry began to read.  “I think this is about her reading level,” he murmured to himself.  Turning to Elissa, he explained, “My best mate’s little sister would love something like this.  She enjoys King Arthur and his court, particularly Guinevere.  I think she would enjoy the Muggle court of Henry VIII although I’ll be accused of being a bad influence.”

She scoffed.  “That’s not the book.  I’m sure there are more analytical—”

Getting a little frustrated, Harry explained, “She’s twelve.  A bright twelve, but twelve.”  Without waiting for a response, he went up to the cashier and bought it and even had it wrapped after dashing off a brief inscription.

They walked back to the pub in silence, each holding their book, until they came to her bicycle.

“May I see you home?”  It seemed like the right thing to ask.

“Oh, no.  I’m not sure we—that is—and my sister Mia’s lying in wait.  I wouldn’t do that to you.  I’d also rather keep you to myself for a little while longer.  She’s always had magic, but now, this may sound silly, I’ve found a bit of it for myself, even for a tea.”

He waited until he could no longer see her bicycle on the road before he Apparated back to London.

“She has a sister.  A witch.  Gryffindor named Mia.  Never met her as far as I know,” Harry informed Sirius.  “I like it when she calls me Hyperion.—I don’t think it’s her specifically.”

“Malfoy floo’d.  Are you going to tell him of your romance?”

Harry considered for a moment.  “Yes.  I don’t think we’re right for each other, however.”

Draco just looked at him oddly.  “You didn’t get her with your status as Boy-Who-Lived or Heir Black?” he reiterated.  “And you know her sister?”

“I think I know her.  She’s some Gryffindor.”

“Hmm.  What house is she in?”

“That’s the thing—she isn’t.”

“Private tutors?”

“No.”

Draco stared.  “This will break Io’s heart.  Please tell me she’s not a Squib.”

“No, no!  She’s a Muggle.”  Harry looked at his hands.  He was just waiting for the fall out.  Malfoy hated Muggle-borns and he despised Muggles.  His father, Lord Malfoy, had been accused of being a Death Eater during the war but had gotten off scot free of the charges because he was quote “under the Imperius Curse.”  Harry wasn’t quite sure if he believed that.  The family was certainly dark and prejudiced enough for him to have been a Death Eater.

“A Muggle,” Malfoy stated cautiously.  “And you’re planning on being Lord Black.”

“Well, that’s the plan,” Harry answered with a lopsided grin.  “I am next in line, you know.  You’re not eligible as you’re Heir to your own house.”

“Yes, yes, I know.  If only I were a younger son.”  Malfoy mock-sighed.  “Well, fortunately, you only need Lord Black’s permission to marry her.  The whole law about needing permission from the Wizengamot ended about two centuries ago.”

“Wait, what?  Who’s talking about marriage?  What about—”  His thoughts immediately turned to Io and his gaze turned to the wrapped package.  He noticed that Malfoy was looking at it as well.

“I had thought there was something,” Malfoy admitted quietly.  “We’re pureblood wizards—and, yes, yes, I know, you’re technically a half-blood, but you’re going to be Lord Black so you’re practically a pureblood anyway—and dating means marriage.  I’m proposing to Lady Astoria the day I graduate from Hogwarts, even though she’ll only be graduating fifth year.”  He sighed again.  “If you do this, you have to mean marriage.  You can’t just keep this a secret.  Her sister—Mia—is going to figure out that Heir Hyperion Black and Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter are the same person.”

“Wait, are you telling me to go for this?”

“I’m telling you,” Malfoy grit his teeth, “to be sure about this.  If you can’t see yourself apologizing for your wife’s blood-status or holding her when she cries because she’s been insulted at a formal dinner, then walk away now.  Otherwise, I insist on meeting her.  We’ll bring Lady Astoria along.  Make it a double date.”

Harry blinked at him.  “I guess I have a lot to think about.”

“I guess you do.”  Malfoy paused.  “You could wait.”

Looking up quickly, Harry stated, “For a twelve-year-old?”

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders.  “You’re mad about her.  She’s mad about you.  Io has that picture of you in her bedchamber by her bed.  Muggles don’t understand, but wizards fall in love with magic.  Age doesn’t matter.”

After a moment of staring at his hands, Harry glanced at Malfoy.  “Is this strange feeling—love?”

Sighing, Malfoy came and sat next to him.  “Only you can know, but I’ll tell you that Iolanthe is in love with Hyperion Black.  She could care less about the Boy-Who-Lived.”

This brought a smile to Harry’s lips.

Harry spent the next two days on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  He had a poster of the Wigtown Wanderers on his ceiling.  Sirius despaired over him following a Scottish Quidditch team, but they’d been Harry’s favorite for years.  His godfather had even taken him to a few games.

The Weird Sisters were playing and Sirius had scored two tickets.  “I was planning on taking you,” he explained, “but if you’d rather take Elissa,” he drew out her name in a playful manner, “then I completely understand.”

Harry thought it was a horrible idea.  “I’d rather take Io—and she’s far too young.”

“Live a little,” Sirius urged, coming into the room.  “Don’t let Draco Malfoy trap you in a relationship with his little sister.  It’s ridiculous.  You’re a seventeen-year-old wealthy famous wizard.  You should be playing the field.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry looked over at a sketch that Lucius, Lord Malfoy had made of Io earlier that summer, which Malfoy had nicked for him.

Sirius grabbed it.  “Elissa.  Tickets.  Rebel a bit.  I’ll leave you alone about Iolanthe Malfoy for however long this fascination lasts—if you just take another girl out this once.  Go as friends.”

“You don’t understand!” Harry stated desperately, trying to grab the drawing.  “She smells like vanilla.  I just—she smells like vanilla and Malfoy swore she doesn’t wear a scent.”

A stricken look passed over Sirius’s face.  “You smell her magic.  Lucius Malfoy will never let her anywhere near you given what your mother was.”

“A Muggleborn,” Harry realized.

“Cut your losses,” Sirius suggested seductively.  “Just go this once.  For your dad.  He’d want you to try.”

That hurt deeply.  He thought of his mother, Lily Evans, a beautiful Muggleborn, who had given his life for his.  Snatching the picture of Iolanthe, he agreed.  “For Mum.  Just this once.”

Clapping Harry on the back, Sirius hummed, “Agreed.”

He was once again squished into the telephone room, Sirius outside of the glass door, when he rang up Elissa.

At first he thought no one was home.  Finally, an older woman answered the phone.  “Oh, hello?” Harry asked.  “Is Elissa home?”

“You’re that young man she went to tea with, down at the pub,” the woman said.  “What was your name again?”

“Hyperion, ma’am.  Can I talk to Elissa?”

“She just got home about an hour ago.  I’ll go find her in her room.”  The telephone was set down and Harry had to wait.  However, that familiar voice that was not quite Elissa picked up in the interim came on the line.

“You’re that pureblood, aren’t you?”

“Are you Mia?” Harry asked.  “I’m not a pureblood.”

She huffed.  “True, you’re on a phone,” she admitted.  “Half-blood, then.  What do you have, a Muggle father?”

“Er—“ Harry began, but then there was the sound of struggling and Elissa spoke into the receiver.

“Hyperion?  Sorry.  It’s me.  Elissa.  I hadn’t expected—”

Skipping over the last comment, he instead asked, “How is Winter is Coming going?”

“I could ask about your friend’s sister,” she asked a little petulantly.

“Io is enjoying it.  I get an owl about twice a day from her about what she’s read.  But that’s not why I rang,” he added hastily.  “I have two tickets to the Weird Sisters on Thursday.  I know it’s not the weekend—“

“Oh, aren’t they the ones who played at the Yule Ball?  Mia’s spoken about them.  Even she thinks they’re really good.  She wouldn’t stop going on about how she danced with her date to them all night.”

“Odd,” Harry admitted.  “We really just jumped around to the music and maybe twirled when it got exciting.”

“Maybe I got it wrong,” she admitted.  “Mia just wouldn’t stop talking about dancing and mentioned the Weird Sisters.”

“Well, will you come?”  His voice was rather bland.  Harry really didn’t want to go (with Elissa), but he was doing this for his parents.  “I know it’s a wizarding venue, but it should be a lot of fun.”

“Tank top and jeans?” she asked.

“Perfect.”  He thought.  “I’ll get you a t-shirt so you’ll fit right in.”

She laughed happily.  “I’ll meet you at the pub.  What time?”

“Six.  You’ll really have fun.  I promise.”

He could tell she was smiling through the phone.

Elissa was a vision of Muggleness in black mascara, her brown curls up in a ponytail, and her jeans were ripped strategically.  He couldn’t help but compare her to Iolanthe who he had been sword-fighting with in wizarding robes earlier that day.  “Had to slip out of the house,” Elissa admitted.  “Mia just won’t leave me alone.  It’s getting ridiculously.  She won’t stop sending these owls to this boy, who barely responds, and she gets angry when I actually get a date.”

“I’ve never had any siblings,” Harry answered truthfully.  “Wanted to, though.  That might have been nice.”

“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” Elissa sighed.  “Now, are we using a portkey or Apparating?  I realize that both are unpleasant.”

“Apparating,” he stated, pulling her to him and breathing in the scent of her hair.  It was all wrong.  It was some sort of artificial perfume and not vanilla.

A moment later and they were gone to a stadium in London.  The first order of business was getting her a shirt.  She chose a tanktop that fit easily over the one she was wearing, and then they got several glow sticks as she didn’t have a wand.  They were meant for underage wizards.

For the next several hours they were jumping to the music, Harry staying a good three feet away from her.  He was even glad when another wizard grabbed her and started snogging her right on the dancefloor.  It was two in the morning before the concert finished.

“Do you want to come to mine?” Harry asked, pumped up on adrenaline, and not really caring if he threw her in a guest room.  “I’m here in London, or we could go back to Yorkshire.”

“Mum’s probably worried,” she admitted.  “Is there a phone we can use?”

“Over there.”  Harry pointed to a phone booth on a corner and they ran up to it. 

“Come here,” she murmured, dragging him in much to his horror.  “Can you use magic so that I don’t need any money?”

He laughed.  “You’re lucky I’m seventeen.”  He waved his wand.

“So am I,” she said with a smile, “or at least I will be next month.”  She punched in the numbers and then waited.  Harry could hear everything in the small confined space.

“Hello?”  It was Mia.

“Could you put Mum on please if she’s still awake?  I just don’t want her to worry.”  Elissa smiled at Harry and squeezed his hand.  He moved up behind her and grasped her hips as they were pressed against each other.

“I don’t think you get to talk to Mum,” she stated.  “It’s two in the morning and you’re god knows where!  You’re probably out drinking or shooting yourself up with heroin!”

“I have not!” Elissa shot back.  “I’ve been out with Hyperion.  Mum knows this.  The concert just lasted a little later than we thought.”

“A little later.  A little later?  Who did you see, huh, Elissa?  Celestina Warbeck?”

“I have no idea who that is,” Elissa stated angrily and Harry took the phone.

“We saw the Weird Sisters, you remember, the band from the Yule Ball.  The one you apparently danced to all night even though we were jumping and screaming and having the time of our lives!  Who was your date anyway?  The Boy-Who-Lived?” he asked cruelly.  He clearly wasn’t talking to Parvati Patil, but he thought he’d take the jab anyway.

There was a sob on the other end of the line.  “A Durmstrang student,” Mia admitted.

“I’m sorry, then.  He’s probably in Russia or somewhere like that.  However, could you please put Elissa’s mother on the line, Gryffindor to Gryffindor?  I’m not pranking you like the Weasley twins, honestly, Mia.”

There was a rustling on the other side of the line and a woman came on.  “Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am.  I’ll just put Elissa on.”  He handed the phone over and just wished this could all be over.

In the end he Apparated her back to a house on a lane, the lights in the windows still on.  “That’s me,” she whispered.  “I had a great time—especially meeting—well, whoever it was.  I know we’ll probably never see each other again.”

“No,” he agreed.  “I don’t think we’re meant for each other.”  Harry saw the curtains moving in the window and sighed.  “You better get in there and get to sleep.  I know you have family waiting.”

“Hmm…” she agreed before rushing off into the house.

The next morning, Harry dragged himself out of bed and looked at his godfather.  “It’s done.  It’s over.  She snogged some other wizard.  I didn’t even care.”

Sirius winced.

Of course, what he hadn’t been expecting was for Elissa to be at Platform 9 ¾ .  Harry stared into her honey brown eyes and swallowed, uncertain what to say, when Draco came and patted him on the back.  “There you are,” he greeted.  “Hyperion Black.  Whenever are you going to tell Weasel and Granger?”

Elissa looked shocked, but Harry honestly couldn’t say why.

Looking over his shoulder, Harry muttered, “I really wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

“I didn’t call Granger ‘The Mudblood’.  I’m being culturally sensitive,” he argued, his gray eyes flashing.  “I do recognize the fact that your own mother was – one of them.”  His voice drawled in his arrogant pureblood manner, making Harry smirk a bit.

“Only you,” he commented, his eyes moving to Elissa.  “This is Elissa, Draco.”

His friend looked at her for a long moment and nodded.  “Nasty business,” he agreed.  “Couldn’t be helped, in the end.—Now, we’re hiding you away.  Io wants to see you.”

Despite himself, Harry smiled.  He was excessively fond of Iolanthe Malfoy, Draco’s youngest sister.  He was beginning to think, that she just might be the love of his life.

THE END.