AN: I don't own Harry Potter or any associated characters/situations. Please don't sue me. Also, it's good to post again.

Harry had been in bed all morning, and he was happy to stay exactly where he was. Where that was exactly, he didn't know, except that it smelled and felt divine. Squinting out of one eye, he peeked around his current location, scoping it out in case he had to make a quick escape. Looking through the cloud of blonde hair surrounding his face, he noticed that the room was tastefully decorated in light blues and grays. Still not sure exactly where he was, he slowly lifted his head and looked down at the blanket covering his companion and himself, a well-done quilt featuring a simple leaf pattern in fall colors, and beyond at the far wall. The wall featured a wide window, and a balcony opening into what looked like Paris judging by the prominent metal tower in the distance.

Laying his head back down and closing his eyes, he tried to think of how he came to be lying next to someone in a bed in Paris.

Wait.

Launching out of the bed, he stared at the figure remaining in bed.

They moaned lightly and turned over to face the wall, pulling the quilt up around them. Their blonde hair was a little wild, creating a wild halo around the pillow.

Quietly creeping around to the far side of the bed, Harry pulled the cover down a little and met the blue eyes of one person he did not expect to ever wake up next to.

Gabrielle Delacour had matured very well from the young 11-year-old Harry had rescued from the Black Lake in his 4th year. She now possessed a similar figure to her older sister but was distinct in subtle ways. Harry began to receive a trickle of memories how exactly Gabby was different from her sister.

"Oh, I am so dead!" Harry groaned.

Gabby looked a little pissed and began to talk in rapid French.

Harry stared at her, then waved her down, "Gabby, I can't understand you. I don't speak French."

"You are not dead, 'Arry! You broke up wiz zat damned redhead, deed you not? Or did you lie to me last night?" Gabby said archly.

And the memories came flooding back, how Harry had walked in on Ginny and Dean going at it like bunnies, how he had stormed out, summoning their clothes after him and standing in the living room of their apartment, livid. How Ginny and Dean emerged, beet-red in shame and embarrassment, and how Harry had proceeded to, in a flurry of rage-induced magic, pack all of Ginny's things in a few conjured boxes and kicked her and Dean out, with nothing but a sheet each to keep them from public indecency violations. How Harry had then got mind-numbingly drunk before heading home alone. The walk back was enough to give him the presence of mind to drink a sobering potion, and then he had left the apartment with nothing but a few changes of clothes, his bank card, and his passport. Apparating to the continent had been easy, customs even easier, and he had gone to someplace he hoped could cure his sorrows: Paris.

Now, most people would assume that is the exact opposite of where you would go if you were recently heartbroken, but Paris is actually not a city of couples if you know how to operate there, avoiding tourist destinations and the like. In fact, it could be a most lonely city. Harry, in his infinite wisdom, did not know how to avoid these places, and promptly fell into a depressed funk, getting buzzed again. Around 2 in the morning, he had been sitting on the curb when a young attractive blonde walked by, heading home from a party most likely. Thinking this was Fate's way of mocking him, he continued in his angst and melancholia.

"'Arry? 'Arry Potter? Eez that you?" The blonde had walked past him, and then turned back and sat down next to him on the curb.

Shocked that a muggle recognized him, he turned to the blonde and was floored.

The girl was stunning. Not in the high-maintenance way of the girls he often had to politely turn down, but rather an effortless beauty. She was wearing a modest blue sundress and had on only the barest hint of eyeshadow to bring out the matching color of her eyes. Never had Harry felt so instantly attracted to a girl, and he had no idea who this was, but apparently, she knew him.

"Ye-yes? Do I know you?"

"Eet iz me, Gabby! Fleur's leetle sister?"

A memory of a little girl, clinging tightly to him as he swam for shore on a cold February morning, didn't match up with the woman sitting next to him.

"How long has it been? 10 years? How have you been Gabby?"

"I should probably be ze one asking zat, hm? You don't look too good, 'Arry. What 'appened?"

Harry considered the question, and in his slightly drunk logic (he had been sitting there for a few hours now) he decided 'Why not? You haven't seen her in ten years, and she is practically a stranger anyway. She deserves to know about your deepest despair.'

And so he told her. Ginny, Dean, getting drunk and then coming to Paris. She listened, was properly angry at the nerve of the redhead, and very sympathetic to his current misery. By the end, she had invited him to come back to her apartment instead of spending the night on the street. After that, it was kind of a blur with a few shining moments of bliss.

Harry snapped back to the present and reassured the blonde in front of him.

"Ginny and I are totally done. Through. Kaput. There is no chance of ever getting back with her, ever."

Looking slightly mollified, the blonde then had a sly look pass over her face. "And 'ow about you and I? What are we?"

Harry started to panic. What could he say to her? He barely knew her! Hell, he barely remembered last night!

Gabby laughed at the look of absolute terror in Harry's eyes, and that was enough to snap Harry out of his panic.

"Don't worry 'Arry, I have no expectations. Last night waz my gift, a way to 'elp you geet over zat-" She stopping short, shaking her head and glaring balefully at the wall.

Harry took a moment, then quietly answered her question.

"Do you want to be something? I mean, I'd like to get to know you better first, but I don't have any reason to go back to England any time soon." He trailed off, desperately hoping he hadn't overstepped himself. Then shook his head at that thought, remembering that he was standing without clothes in her bedroom.

Gabby was surprised, honestly not expecting any type of relationship with the Man-Who-Conquered, but quickly reassured her very naked houseguest, "I would love to geet to know you better 'Arry, but first, you should find your clothes."

Harry blushed lightly, and nodded, then remembered his shrunken pack in the pocket of his pants. He pulled it out and grabbed a clean shirt and pair of boxers. Gabby shooed him out so she could get dressed, and Harry made his way to the kitchen. Pulling out eggs and several other ingredients, he began to make omelets.

Gabby emerged from her room, and caught the scent of cooking eggs, and went to the kitchen. Seeing the man in the morning light, she was amazed that the redhead witch would ever even think of cheating on such an amazing man. His messy black hair stuck up from the back of his head, and his glasses were just starting to slip down his nose. His Quidditch-toned body was wiry and built for speed, but every inch of him spoke of the trials he had been through. She had kept up with the goings-on in Britain, and heard how at the end of the war, Harry had gone to his death and came back. He then proceeded to completely thrash the Dark Lord and taken his wand. And even before all that, he had been fighting Voldemort from the moment he was resurrected. No other man had been through so much and received so little recognition for it. There had been the required parties and ministry events, but Harry was rarely mentioned by anyone afterward. And he probably preferred it that way.

Gabby had been harboring a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived since he had rescued her from the bottom of the lake, but that crush had faded for the past several years, until last night when she was coming back from her friend's 22nd birthday and found the object of her youthful love literally sitting in the streets of Paris.

What.

So she sat down and asked him what happened. Why he was sitting alone in Paris at 2 in the morning. And she decided to take him home, at first to give him a bed, but it turned into so much more, as he told her what had happened and why he was alone in Paris. Her heart went out to him, and she, spur of the moment, kissed him. He had been shocked but had melted into it, responding to her and they ended up in bed together. And then this morning, and his adorable reaction. And now he was making breakfast for her. She mentally swooned at the fact that Harry freaking Potter was standing in her kitchen making her breakfast after sleeping in her bed.

Harry could feel her looking at him, but just ignored it for now. He wanted to make a good impression on her, hoping she might give him a chance to get to know her. He didn't think he stood a snowball's chance with her, but it had never stopped him from trying. He flipped the second omelet onto a plate and turned to put it on the counter behind him. He smiled at Gabby and continued pulling together a breakfast. He poured some fruit juice into a pair of glasses and brought the plates and glasses to the table. He grabbed a peach and a knife and quickly sliced it and brought it to the table where Gabby had sat down, and split the slices between them. He sat down, only for Gabby to put her feet in his lap, grinning at his arched eyebrows. He tickled them, and she only grinned wider.

"Eet won't be zat easy 'Arry. I'm not very ticklish there."

Harry just sighed and began eating. Gabby continued to smile but began eating as well.

"So, have I done well so far?" Harry asked.

Gabby frowned playfully, and replied, "You 'ave done a passable job. I theenk I'll keep you around for a while." She then got a serious look in her eyes. "We weell 'ave to get to know each ozzer better before we 'ave a repeat performance though."

Harry nodded, expecting no less and grateful he wouldn't have to say it himself.

They continued eating, happy to be with the other and hopeful for the future.

OMAKE

"I deedn't know you could cook so well, 'Arry. I theenk I would keep you around for that alone."

"Glad to know you don't want me for my body."

"Oh, but your body is so nice too. And that cul…"

*Harry blushes* "I hope that means something appropriate for the rating…"