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Harry’s coffee had gotten cold.
He’d forgotten all about it as it sat on the table.
His mind had sunken into a waking slumber, as his body luxuriated in the cafe’s air conditioning.
He didn’t know how long he had sat there, hiding from the sun’s consistent heat. It could have been 20 minutes, it could have been two hours. All he knew was that the south coast of France was as close a place to heaven as he had found so far in his young life. That didn’t exactly mean all that much at this point, he wasn’t a well-travelled person, but after this trip it was clear he needed to rectify his inexperience at the earliest possible opportunity.
Looking out the window at the view, he was taken in, as he always was, by the magnificence. The deep blue of the ocean, battling for supremacy of the horizon with the pale blue of the open air above. The flashing colours of kites, sailboats and jet skis, an overabundance of people’s choice amusements, dotting the sands, the sea and the sky. The people themselves spread out chaotically, sunbathing on towels or playing volleyball or reading in whatever shade they could create for themselves.
It was magical in its own way, this varied medley of life, adults and children, dogs and babies, and the very fact Harry could simply exist amongst it, walking freely between them, drinking in the anonymity, completed the fantasy.
No awestruck stares, or hushed whispers, barely even a head turned, a vision of unremarkable muggle living so picturesque that Harry often felt the urge to pinch himself, to be certain he wasn’t still dreaming beneath a familiar set of stairs. He never did check, why tear himself away from this perfect delusion that his subconscious may, or may not have, fostered for him, any earlier than he had to?
Dream or reality, it didn’t matter one bit to him in the moment, as he again felt the cool wind from the air con, another piece of magic that muggles manage to produce for themselves. He was sure Hermione could have explained that it wasn’t magic at all, and the specific sciences behind it, but he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think of anything. He was on a break after all.
Harry took a sip from his cup, and ignored the pang of unpleasantness spreading in his mouth. The joy of France’s black coffee clearly wasn’t maintained at room temperature. He decided to fight his lethargy in a different way instead, rising from his seat and exiting the building to grab a spot on one of the unshaded benches around the tables outside. His powered sunglasses limited the stark brightness that struck him as he made the step outdoors.
The whisper of the cafe’s cool was replaced by the kiss of the sun’s heat, and as he sat down again he glanced at signs of its handiwork all along his arms, which had become more tanned than they ever before. The colour extended down to his legs, as well as up to his face, besides from the funny-looking, pale area of exceptions, hugging around his eyes, shielded by his eyewear.
He leant back and removed them, basking in the afternoon’s glow and beginning work on equalising his face’s varied shades. Thinking back to just a month ago, the contrast in how he felt was astonishing. From a social shut-in, glued to his apartment in London, to a man on the move, who couldn’t imagine spending his days indoors. Of course the circumstances were slightly different, he possessed a level of ease here that couldn’t be replicated anywhere in Britain.
Back there, there wasn’t a single public place where he could travel without being hassled and crowded, naturally not the usual wizard haunts like Diagon Alley or Godric’s Hollow, but not even that regularly amongst the muggle population. There was always a squib or a muggleborn or just a plain, normal wizard to run into, to get asked for an autograph from, to be stalked and followed by. No, France was the place for him, for today at least.
Did he know if he’d feel the same tomorrow?
He couldn’t say for sure, but after two weeks of the same sort of schedule he was in no hurry to answer. It was a short trip to Italy or Spain, or really any other country that tickled his fancy anyways. Maybe he would throw a dart, see where it landed, he’d seen the idea on the telly and it seemed as good as any. Any thoughts of that being irresponsible were crushed down by the weight of his contentment, so he just shut his eyes and dreamed of the possibilities that lay ahead of him.
He set his mind adrift once again, let it float away from any thoughts, soak into the pleasure of having no expectations or outside stresses. Just feeling the warmth spreading inwards from his skin, hearing the consistent chatter of the people walking around, the gentle bree-
“Excuse me, don’t I know you from somewhere?”
The woman’s voice sent a wave of tension through Harry’s body. She had spoken English. Worse, she had spoken English with a posh, southern accent.
His day was about to take the same turn his mood was already starting to take.
A bad one.
He replaced his sunglasses, clinging hopefully to their minor abilities to disguise.
“I think you must have me confused with someone else.”
He spoke before he had turned fully to face her, and was greeted to the sight of a pretty blonde woman, with piercing green eyes, who looked to be around his age.
She was looking searchingly at his features, seemingly convinced by her sense of familiarity.
“No, I’m almost certain we’ve met before, were you at Hogwarts a few…”
Recognition flashed in her pupils.
“Merlin, you’re Ha-”
She was interrupted by his wild, swinging attempt to cover her mouth, as she stepped back in slight fear.
Harry realised how invasive what he tried to do just was and felt really quite embarrassed with himself. His rising panic at being recognised must have eroded any good sense he still had. He tried to smile apologetically.
“I’m so sorry I just tried to do that.” He took a deep breath. “Could you possibly pretend that you hadn’t just run into me. I know I may have overreacted a tad there, but I really do just need some peace, especially while I’m on holiday.”
She still looked a bit shocked, but thankfully less like she was going to stun him, and as he thought that, he just noticed her right hand carefully moving away from her lower back. He was no Auror, but he was fairly certain he had been a half-second away from being at the end of her wand, retrieved from a hidden holster.
She found her voice again. “I imagine being the most famous wizard in Britain must have its drawbacks.”
She shook out of her nervousness and looked intently back at him. “Actually I can’t really imagine that. I’m so understated that you don’t even recognize me.”
So that was her play. He’d heard it often enough before. People were always keen to gain his attention anyway they could, and after having previously given out no small number of apologies for not recognising complete strangers, Harry had learned better.
“Look, I’m not particularly in the mood to play this game today, so if we could just carry on with our own days, I’d really appreciate it.” He said, slightly miffed.
The girl’s face scrunched up in annoyance.
“Maybe some of Malfoy’s rumours had the truth behind them.” She looked him up and down with a haughty expression. “You really are a bit pig-headed.”
She turned and stalked off in her annoyance, slowly making her way down the promenade once again.
This was something of an ego check of Harry. Maybe he’d become a bit too jaded. Her mentioning Malfoy’s big mouth felt like the truth, and he was starting to feel like she had looked passingly familiar.
Should he go after her?
It was his holiday, but feeling like he’d been a numpty in their conversation, he stood and started trailing after her. Luckily enough, her hair stood in stark contrast to most of the other people walking around, her gold locks still clear to see for him from fifty meters back. Hopefully, for his sake, she didn’t decide to put on a hat or something.
Just in case, he picked up his gait, carefully avoiding getting caught behind the children from a large family, who were drifting left and right chaotically as they walked. He passed by shops selling ice cream and beach equipment, as well as countless cafes nearly indistinguishable from the one he had exited just now. One of those would likely be his port of call tomorrow afternoon, assuming he didn’t decide to move onward yet, but going off his last week here he doubted a change of plan was likely to happen anytime soon.
He was about halfway caught up to her now and he wondered whether he should call out, but her name hadn’t come back into memory at this point, and shouting something random out loud wasn’t exactly going to endear her to him.
As he drew nearer, he became aware that she was walking alone, which struck him as odd. Most everyone around them were in groups or pairs, friends, family, couples, or whatever else they might be to one another. Harry supposed he was in no position to judge, but he had his reasons for being here alone, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her’s were.
He was just a few steps away from her now and just as he started to reach out to tap on her shoulder, she abruptly spun around to face him.
“Why are you following me, Potter?” Her eyes looked as if they were trying to pierce into his own.
He put up his hands non-confrontationally.
“I just… I wanted to apologise. That’s all really.” He answered, sheepishly as he could manage.
She was still eyeing him suspiciously, but relaxed her stare, just slightly, after a few moments.
“Go on then. Apologise.”
“Um… I’m really sorry I was being so dismissive of you. And that I tried to cover your mouth with my hand. And that I didn’t recognize you. And that I accused you of playing games.”
It came out much more awkwardly than he had wanted. He really should have rehearsed something before he caught up to her, there was something about her intensity that made him flustered.
Her face remained neutral. “Anything else?”
Harry smiled in what he hoped was a disarming fashion. “Not that I can think of. At least, not that I can think of today.”
She smiled back, but in a slightly predatory way. “Well then, before I accept, I just want to check one more thing.”
She leant in nearer, so much so that Harry could smell her lavender perfume.
“Who are you apologising to?”
The smile on her face meant they both knew that he had no idea.
“Yes you are…uhh” He said, trying to delay.
She was probably a Slytherin, since she mentioned Malfoy, and they were probably no more than a year or two different in age. He tried to think back to all the blonde girls at Hogwarts who fit that description.
Something vaguely came to him. “Greengrass.”
She nodded slightly in encouragement.
“Astoria Greengrass.”
Her face grew stern again, halting the triumphant smile that was beginning to form on his face.
She looked back up at him. “Good to know that you remember my little sister so well.”
He scrambled for another name. “Daphne. It’s Daphne. I just remembered.”
“Got it in one.” She replied sarcastically.
She turned to walk away again.
“Wait! Let me make it up to you.”
She stopped up.
“As lovely as that would be, I need to be elsewhere right now.”
“On a sunday afternoon?” He asked doubtfully. “It can’t be that important. Let me get you a drink, or an ice cream or something. It’ll only be ten minutes.”
Harry didn’t know why he was being so keen all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he remembered how badly it felt to be overlooked and ignored by the Dursleys, and he didn’t want to be the kind of person who did that to others. A more honest part of himself wondered whether he would be doing the same if Daphne wasn’t a pretty girl his age, but he tried to ignore that thought. Maybe he was starting to get a bit lonely here.
Daphne finished considering his offer. “Alright, one ice cream. That’s a pretty good place over there.”
She pointed at a shop a short way back in the direction they came, and they headed off in that direction silently.
The shop in question looked a bit plain to Harry’s eyes, as it came into view, with a simple white counter with their selections, and seating that was serviceable over stylish. There were only a couple people queuing in front of them, so Harry quickly scanned over the various colours of frozen goodness staring up at him. Mango and lime and strawberry sorbet, vanilla and white chocolate and cookie dough ice creams, and countless more flavours of both.
He turned back to Daphne. “What are you thinking?”
“Vanilla.” She answered without hesitation.
“Huh, Vanilla.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Well, it’s just a bit plain for me. I’m probably going for the cookie dough.”
“I guess I just know what I like when I see it.”
She was smiling again, which Harry was glad about. He liked her smile.
“Which is why you were annoyed with me so quickly.”
“No, I liked the look of you well enough.” Her smile grew. “The problems began when you opened your mouth.”
He mockingly zipped his lips in reply, chuckling as he did.
They soon had there desserts in hand, and made to sit on one of the tables outside. Harry grabbed a spoonful the moment he was seated, and tasted the creaminess of it, mixed with a large chunk of cookie dough, the perfect balance of textures.
“This might be the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.” He stated.
He turned to face Daphne, who was looking at him with a doubtful expression.
“Too much?”
“Just a bit.”
They ate silently for a couple minutes, before Harry decided to indulge his curiosity.
“So what are you doing in the south of France, Greengrass?”
She put a mouthful she had on her spoon away before answering.
“I live here actually. Went to Beauxbatons for seventh year, and never really considered moving back I guess.”
So she’d moved abroad to avoid Voldemort, thought Harry, if it weren’t for prophecy he might have done the same.
“How about you?”
He considered how honest he should be with her. “Just a holiday for me. Needed to get away from Britain.”
“On your own? No Ron or Hermoine? Or your girlfriend?”
Harry winced. Ginny was still a bit of a sore spot.
“No, not this time." He paused before admitting. "Ginny and I broke up actually.”
She gave him a look of sympathy.
“That’s a shame. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“We just grew apart I guess. Standard thing that happens to school romances. She’s a reserve for the Harpies now and was looking to enter the spotlight, and I was looking to avoid it any way I could.”
Daphne didn’t respond, which Harry appreciated. No empty platitudes or cliched responses. They were never all that helpful.
“How about you? Am I delaying you from meeting your boyfriend or something?”
She eyed him carefully. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would actually.” Harry’s thought slipped out unintentionally.
His face burned with embarrassment. He ate the last of his ice cream in an attempt to cover it up.
Nicely done Harry, he thought to himself, make sure she thinks you're really desperate by jumping the gun right after talking about an ex.
Luckily, she chose to ignore it.
“Actually, I was off to meet some friends for a drink. Some of the other students from my potions apprenticeship.”
She cleaned up the last of her ice cream, and made to stand up.
“They’re actually already waiting on me. I should probably be off.” She smiled broadly at him. “Thanks for the ice cream. It was really nice seeing you again Harry.
He followed her in standing.
Well, thought Harry, he may have scared her off, so he might as well go for it.
He might not ever get the change to see her again, and that didn't sit right with him.
“Before you go.” He slowly worked up his nerve. “Can I see you again sometime? Just to hang out or something. It was nice running into someone I actually know around here.”
She didn’t say anything for a bit, and when she opened her mouth again, Harry braced for the hammer blow.
It never came.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah that’s what I would like.” Harry said shyly. “I promise to annoy you less when we go on it.”
Her mouth screwed up slightly at the sides, enhancing her features more than Harry thought possible.
“Alright then, I’ve always wanted to be out with a celebrity.”
He must have started frowning because she quickly said. “I’m just messing, don’t worry. I’d like to go out with you, celebrity or not.”
Harry let the relief wash over him. “That’s great. How do I get in touch with you?”
“I’ll owl you about a place for dinner tomorrow night. Expect to need to dress your best.”
And just like that she walked off, leaving him stunned in place.
That had gone too smoothly compared to the rest of his life, he was half waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He just about managed to regather his thoughts, and turned to wave her off only to see her golden hair bouncing away as she stepped. A sense of warm contentment spread throughout Harry’s body, pairing nicely with the heat of the afternoon.
This was turning out to be a very good holiday.