There were a number of things that Harry Potter disliked in the world. Daytime television, mushrooms on pizza, black coffee, and Dark Lords were some of them. But, he decided after another long-suffering sigh, glaring balefully at the never-diminishing pile of parchment in his in-tray, bureaucracy was the one thing he hated the most.
Sign, countersign, approve, reject. Stamp and move on.
Honestly, if he had been told during training that the life of an Auror was so glamorous and exciting, he'd hardly have believed it. With a barely-suppressed grunt of indignation, he blinked several times as another few errant memos collided lightly with the side of his head, dropping to the surface of his desk before unfurling themselves.
Requisition order #1049568
FAO: Auror Wandsergeant Potter (he grimaced)
Following on from our previously adjusted memorandum detailing…
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses pushed up onto his forehead as he closed his eyes in frustration. One more week, he told himself. One more week and I'll be back in First Element.
First Element was the name given to his, for lack of a better term, unit in the Auror Corps. Every newly inducted Auror Wandsman was assigned according to his/her specialisation during training into one of several "Elements" that comprised the Combat and Protection section of the service. Since he'd scored top marks in Observation and Engagement (thanks in no small part to his excessive level of prior experience, dealing with Voldemort and his Death Eaters), he was sorted into a recently vacated post in First. He'd never asked why it had been vacated, nor did he particularly want to know. However, last month the training rota for the Elements had been changed, with Sixth moving to active duty and First being placed back into Instruction. With both of his unit's Hit Wizards teaching Apprentices, he'd found himself at somewhat of a loose end (or drawn the short straw, depending on how you chose to look at it) and had been assigned to Admin for the duration of the training period.
"I don't believe it." A voice came from above him, and Harry's head snapped up to glare at whoever had dared disturb his wallowing. "Auror Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Vigilante Extraordinaire." The newcomer lifted a memo, holding it up to the light as if to inspect it for hidden qualities. "Defeated by parchment." Harry grinned, before snatching the message out of his best friend's hand.
"Sod off, Weasley. Not all of us can be as big and brave as you are." He looked around wide-eyed, scrabbling under papers and cups as if looking for something. "Where did I put that damn tarantula?"
"Har freaking har." Ron smirked, sitting half-on, half-off the edge of Harry's desk. "Careful, or I'll get your girlfriend to bust you for insubordination."
"She's not my bloody girlfriend." Harry muttered under his breath, launching a quill half-heartedly at the tall redhead, who snatched it out of the air deftly before placing it back in his desk tidy in one, smooth motion. "She's my flatmate."
"Harry, how many blokes do you know who live with another girl for years, and aren't sleeping with or haven't already slept with them?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement as his friend coloured slightly, before his sensibilities got the better of him and he started glaring.
"You know how it is between me and Hermione, and you'd better not be implying what I think you are about her." Ron just chuckled, causing the other man's eyes to narrow even further.
"Easy, tiger." He smiled, picking up a paperweight and tossing it idly between his hands. "I just don't get this whole," he paused, as if thinking of the words "platonic, inter-gender relationship thing you two have."
"Yeah, well," Harry began, taking the paperweight off of him, "Stop that, it's annoying." He stood, picking his travelling cloak off of the coat stand next to his desk. "Not all of us think with our…" He trailed off, looking the man up and down appraisingly, staring pointedly at his midsection, "…wands."
"Hmm," Ron grumbled, "And some of us practice elementary wand safety a little too much." He glanced down at Harry's still-covered desk, the various unread memoranda now flapping about desperately, straining to grab their recipient's attention. "Aren't you gonna get them?" He asked nonchalantly as Harry fastened the shoulder clasp on his cloak, the ensign of the Most Ancient and Honourable House of Potter gleaming dully in the simulated sunlight from his window. It depicted two lions battling with each other against a backdrop of crossed wands, with the words "Spéiread ach Eanach" just visible in a curled scroll lining the bottom. It was one of the few family possessions that had still remained at the shell of Godric's Hollow when he, Ron and Hermione had visited it briefly five years ago. He picked a speck of dirt off of it automatically, sighing slightly at the memory of that terrible year. It seemed so long ago, now…
"Oi!" Ron's voice, and the slightly over-zealous slap on the back shrugged him out of his reverie.
"Oh…er…nah. It's Friday, they'll still be here on Monday." He stuttered, waving his hand disinterestedly. Ron's eyebrow arched again as the memos jumped off the table and fell neatly into a draw, which proceeded to close itself.
"One of these days," He said slowly, regarding Harry's almost unconscious wandless and nonverbal spellcasting. "You'll have to show me how you do that."
"Magic," He murmured in reply as he picked the last of his items off of the desk, earning him an eye-roll from his friend. "Come on, let's get Hermione and go down the pub. I fancy a bit of the Rover's steak and kidney. "
"Hear hear," Ron replied, as they both started walking swiftly towards the door, nodding as the next duty Sergeant took over. They moved to one side as a group of tired-looking Apprentices filed through the entrance. Harry smirked, winking at the Hit Wizard who led them through.
"Pietersen," He said in greeting, stopping Ron for a moment. "How've they been?"
"Useless," He barked in a gruff, surly voice, turning his glare on the assembled group, who seemed to wither under his gaze. "I know a few Beauxbatons fourth years who can conjure a better Patronus than this lot." The slight curve of a smile at the corner of the wizard's mouth let the two men know he was only half-serious. "Go on Sarge, enjoy your weekend." Harry inclined his head in response, and the two moved off again, through the doors of the Auror Department and out of the maze of cubicles, finding themselves in a marble-lined corridor. The afternoon sunlight highlighted the gold trim around the walls, giving the entire passageway an almost unearthly glow. Harry had been told that it made many people feel uneasy, but personally, he rather liked the almost mystical feel it gave to the building. Well, more mystical than it already was, of course, being the Ministry of Magic and all.
"She gonna be downstairs?" Ron asked, as they made their way over to the elevator. Harry shook his head, glancing briefly at the gold pocket watch he kept inside his robes, embossed with the Gryffindor crest. Another item retrieved from the Hollow that he'd decided to keep. He'd found out recently (or more accurately, Hermione had found out) through tracing his family line, that there was a relation to the House of Gryffindor that kept reoccurring throughout the centuries, so he felt justified in holding onto the pocket watch.
"Doubt it, she's usually finished by now." He replied, stepping to one side as the doors opened and a tall, pale looking man with a hooked nose and a battered bowler hat stepped out and walked past them, heading towards the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. "She'll have closed up and gone home, I reckon." Hermione worked as a liason between the MLE and the Department of Mysteries, a position that afforded her the chance to work forensics on a number of the more important field cases, as well as pursue her research interests in various fields. She wasn't quite an Unspeakable, per se, but Harry and Ron both saw her as more that than a Detective. She outranked Harry anyway, as the equivalent of an officer, a detail in which Ron found endless amusement.
"Back to yours, then?" Ron asked as they stepped in, Harry stating their destination as the Entrance Lobby.
"Yeah, need anything from yours?" He asked, leaning back against the wall, and finally allowing the adrenaline from the promise of a Friday night out to flow through him.
"Nah." He patted himself down. "Wand, check, wallet, check."
"Ring?" Harry enquired, unconsciously feeling his hand to check his was indeed still there. After the defeat of Voldemort at the hands of Harry and Ron, and the ensuing backlash from the remaining Death Eaters, Hermione had charmed their respective homes to allow only a specific signature to Apparate directly in, keying it into three silver rings which they all wore. She said she got the idea from some cartoon she used to watch when she was a child.
"No, left it at home." Ron replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." Harry mentioned with a sigh.
"Superciliousness doesn't become you." His friend retorted, smiling slightly.
"And eloquence, you."
"Touché." The doors of the elevator opened with an ominous sounding 'thunk', and the pair glanced at each other before stepping out hastily.
"Luna?" Harry replied, carrying on their previous checklist of things that they should probably remember. He smirked inwardly at this…who'd have thought Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood would ever make a good couple? A few months ago, Harry had called round his friend's apartment to pick up some Quidditch gear he'd left after their last pick-up game, and accidentally picked-up a rather lacy, rather feminine piece of underwear. Along with a slight black eye when the shoe Ron had thrown at him from their rather compromising position on the kitchen table struck him in the face.
He'd made a point of knocking after that.
"Check, she's meeting us later. She's working on some project in, you know…downstairs…for another hour or so. I said I'd floo her when we decided where we're going."
"Ah," Harry replied, as they stepped into one of the designated Apparition departure areas. Luna, unlike Hermione, was actually a fully-fledged Unspeakable. Aptly named as well, as Ron moaned after his many failed attempts to engage her in conversation about what in the hell they actually did down there. They'd been to the Department of Mysteries in their fifth year at Hogwarts, of course, but after that particular incursion security had been stepped up so tight that it was nearly impossible to even get on the same level without a signed note from Minister Kettlemore herself.
It didn't break Harry's heart. To be honest, after seeing the things he did in his line of work, he rather thought that if things were locked up tight it was generally for a good reason. That, and neither he nor Ron had any particular urge to come across those damn brains ever again. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that the other man had already left, and returned.
"Hurry up Harry, come on!" Ron snapped irritably, before Disapparating with a cracking noise, not unlike a bullwhip. Harry took a last look around the entrance hall, before sighing contently at the prospect of two days of freedom before feeling the familiar squeezing sensation, the slight turn on the spot and momentary blindness as he literally bent through space and time.
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
"Hey Ron!" Hermione's voice called from the lounge as Ron appeared in the kitchen, followed momentarily by her entrance. She was still wearing her light-blue robes that marked her as a member of the DMLE, obviously she hadn't been home that long. She smiled warmly and hugged her friend before pulling a chair out from under the counter top and taking a seat, a steaming mug of tea clutched possessively between her hands.
"How d'you always know it's me?" Ron asked, waving away her non-verbal offer of a cup. She grinned.
"Because, Ron, the way you charge through the universe as you Apparate, it's a wonder you don't punch a hole through reality." She slapped his arm playfully. "Harry kind of just…slips through. He's like a breeze to your hurricane…" She trailed, off, a faint smile alighting on her lips before she blinked, colouring slightly as she took her reading glasses off and placed them on the table before her. "What?" She asked, at Ron's smug countenance, a knowing grin plastered across his face.
"Nothing," He replied airily, eyebrows raised as if to say I-know-something-you-don't-know. "Anyway, your…flatmate…seems to have got lost, I'll go get him quickly." He announced, standing up and smoothing his robes. He Disapparated, leaving a flustered Hermione in his wake.
What was that about?
Luckily, she didn't have long to ponder the meaning of Ron's cryptic and peculiar behaviour, before he reappeared back at her feet, the signature crack jolting Hermione out of her thoughts with a shock.
"Ron!" She snapped, about to berate him for his (lack of) Apparition etiquette when Harry appeared next to her with a soft pop.
"Honey, I'm home!" He announced in an unnecessarily exuberant voice, turning to find Hermione next to him. Without warning, he picked her up and twirled her about once, despite her soft yelp, before setting her back down. "Miss me?" he asked, grinning. She couldn't help but smile back, her annoyance at Ron melting away as she winked.
"No. Miss me?" She replied, pulling him into a hug and standing on her toes to reach over his shoulders.
"Nope." He replied, receiving a swat on the back as a result from Hermione. "Well, maybe a little."
"You two are disgusting." Ron observed with a flat, bored voice from the bread bin, having helped himself to a muffin. They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised before shrugging and stepping apart. Hermione strode hurriedly over to one of the units, pulling the door open and retrieving a plate that she promptly thrust under Ron's crumbling muffin, before delivering him a sharp, chastising slap to the back of the head. Harry smiled, the three of them had been through Hell together, saved each others' lives countless times, loved and lost and comforted through twelve years of friendship, but he could still count on Ron and Hermione's bickering as a constant. Even if everything else changed around them.
"What're you so happy about?" Ron asked apprehensively, causing Harry to notice the two of them looking at him with confused expressions.
"Nothing. Ready to go?" He asked Hermione, already knowing the answer before it came.
"Honestly, Harry. Do I look ready?" She shook her head, before leaving the room. He heard the soft click of a door, shortly before the sound of the shower started running. The two men looked at each other before simultaneously groaning. Having been inordinately bookish throughout her entire school career, Hermione had finally developed her girlish nature over the last few years. With a little help from Ginny and some of her workmates, she'd actually found something of a passion for things she'd previously dismissed as narcissistic and beneath her. The end result being, of course, that it took her hours to get ready to go anywhere.
"Set the chess board up, Ron." Harry said resignedly, "I'll go get changed."
"Right you are." The other man replied, as Harry crossed into the corridor. He reached out for the handle of his door, before pausing, and glancing at Hermione's. In a couple of steps, he'd crossed over to it, before knocking audibly.
"Hermione?" He called, waiting for a response. After a couple of moments it opened, his housemate clutching several towels and shampoo bottles to her chest.
"Yep?" Harry smiled, feeling slightly more jovial at the sight of Hermione in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, clutching haircare products and towels like they were made of gold. It just seemed so…un-Hermione.
It seemed fairly cute, actually.
"Ten minutes, then we're going." He half-said, half-ordered, getting a slight kick out of seeing her eyes narrow.
"I'll be ready when I'm ready, Harry James Potter. Now, to Ron with you!" She said sternly, ushering him out of the doorway with her free hand before exiting herself and making her way over to the bathroom opposite. "Twenty minutes, you go and get the drinks if I'm not done by then?" She proposed, grinning, for some reason, slightly shyly at him.
"Deal." He replied, giving her a parting wink before she closed the door. He was about to set off, when he heard her again through the door.
"Harry?" The muffled sound of her voice came through, distorted by the wood of the door and the hiss of the shower, but audible.
"Yeah?" He replied, leaning back against the doorframe.
"If you get the chance, could you or Ron pick up some bread, we're running low. Oh, and something for dinner tomorrow night, if you're in?"
"Yeah, no problem. Have we paid the water yet?"
"No, we must do that on Monday."
"I can charge it to my account now, if you like?"
"We have the Flat account for a reason, Harry. I'm not living out of your pocket."
"Alright, alright. Just a suggestion."
"We'll do it Monday. How was work?"
"Boring. They've still got me pushing paper on the floor."
"It's only for another week though, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Whether or not I…speed up that time…by eliminating every member of Sixth or not is another factor."
"Harry…"
"I'm just kidding. How about you?"
"Oh, it's going well. We're working on the Avery/Nott case still. Any word from your office on the interrogation transcripts?"
"They're still being reviewed by Third, and then Kingsley wants them duplicated and filed before he releases them to you."
"Honestly, Harry. This could be rather important."
"My hands are tied, sorry."
"It's alright, I shouldn't get grumpy with you about it. It's not your fault."
"Say that again, I want to record it for posterity."
"Don't be tiresome, Harry."
"Heh, sorry. So where do you want to go? The Rover seems like a popular choice."
"Anywhere that isn't full of people who'll try to get our autographs, take our picture or kill us is fine by me. Oh, and somewhere with food, I skipped lunch today."
"Hermione…"
"Yes, yes, I know. I'll make it up by having a big dinner tonight. Happy?"
"No."
"Tough, then." Harry grinned, he could practically hear her smiling. Their banter died down as the shower stopped abruptly, the roar of the falling water turning into the mild drip of individual drops. Within a few minutes, the door opened again, and Hermione stepped through, this time with a towel wrapped around her head and looking slightly flushed. "Right," she started, "just let me dry my hair, and I'll be with you." She stopped then, and glanced at him with a shrewd expression. "Honestly, Harry! Have you not even got dressed yet? I don't want to be waiting around for you to get ready all night again." She turned around, grinning as she did so. "Go, shoo, get changed!" Her door closed at that, leaving a still-smiling Harry to retreat to his room, before throwing on a pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt he'd bought at a gig a couple of years back in Cardiff. He was lacing up his trainers, when Ron walked in.
"Let me get this straight," He said, leaning sideways against the open door. "You have a shared bank account?" His face was incredulous, his mouth hanging open in a "dear-god-who-are-you-and-what-have-you-done-with-my-best-friend" sort of expression. Harry, for his part, merely shrugged in reply.
"We had a meeting…"
"You had a meeting?!"
"…and we decided by consensus…"
"There's two of you!"
"…that it would be easier if we had a joint bank account for bills and stuff. Some of our pay goes into it every month and it pays for things like water, gas, Internet…"
"You talk to her in the shower?"
Harry replied with another shrug.
"You're not that comfortable with the people you live with?" he asked, pulling his laces tightly on the other shoe before beginning to form a bow with them.
"I live with Neville." Ron replied bluntly, folding his arms.
"Good point. What's the problem?"
"The problem, Harry, is that you're becoming domesticated. You're not a bachelor, you're a…a kept man! And you're not even kept! She's turned you into some sort of…responsible, respectable gent."
"Ron," Harry said, placing one hand on his friend's shoulder. "What in the name of Merlin are you going on about?" Ron's faced soured slightly for a second, "Never mind," he grumbled, stalking back towards the kitchen, muttering something about cows and milk. Harry followed him, scratching his head quizzically as he walked into the room, fetching himself a glass from the cabinet and running it under the tap.
"What's your issue?" He asked.
"I don't have one, mate." Ron replied, shrugging his coat on. "You're the one who's got their eyes firmly closed."
"Ron, what the hell are you chatting about?" He just smiled knowingly in response.
"Can't tell you if you don't know." He replied. "Can I nick one of those?" He pointed towards a plate of biscuits on the side. Harry's mouth opened and closed for a second in confusion.
"Er, yeah, knock yourself out."
"Cheers."
"Oh, don't forget to floo Luna," He said, thankful for the sudden dropping of the subject. Ron nodded, his mouth full of crumbs.
"I'll go do it now." He said between mouthfuls. "Can I use yours?"
"Yes, you do that." Harry muttered distractedly, draining the rest of his water before rinsing his glass and leaving it to dry on the side. From the hallway, he heard the sound of Hermione's door opening, and she appeared moments later. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; he noticed that a few locks around the front had escaped the tie, and were framing her face quite pleasantly. Like Harry, she wore a pair of blue jeans, and a simple, form-fitting, button down shirt. Harry had the strangest urge to go up and put his arm around her as she flashed a grin at him, setting her bag down on the counter.
"You look nice," He commented, earning a slight blush from her.
"You too," She replied, checking her purse, and the thousands of other items she seemed to deem essential for going to the pub that floated around in her bag.
"Thanks," He murmured, distractedly. Why in god's name was he so fascinated with how that little curl fell just shy of her right eye, moving gently with the breeze from the window? She really does look nice, he decided, now he thought about it. I mean, the outfit wouldn't be seen on a catwalk any time soon, but it just screams…her. The way she carries it, the light pastel tones of her shirt and the way it accentuates the slight highlights in her hair…
"Everything alright, Harry?" She asked, a trace of a smile forming around the corners of her mouth. With a start, he realised he'd been staring, gawking in fact! Gawking at his flat mate, and best friend of twelve years! He was sure he'd read somewhere that things like that sent you straight to hell.
"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. No problems. Where's Ron got to?" He stammered slightly, inwardly wincing. He knew he was rambling, but for some reason he couldn't stop his mouth moving. Hermione grinned to herself as she bent over her bag. "What?" Harry asked, noticing her smirk.
"You were looking at me." She said simply.
"What? I was doing no such thing!" He replied defensively, getting up and leaning back on the sink top several times before he forced himself to stay still. Hermione's grin widened, although she continued to rummage about in her bag.
"You were looking at me." She repeated.
"Well, you look pretty." Harry grumbled under his breath, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at an ant he'd just noticed on their floor.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, only suddenly she was now closer. Much, much closer actually. How did she get from over there to in front of him?
"Err…I um…" He stammered, noticing now just how brown her eyes were, how her scent reminded him of summer fruits, how the hug she'd given him earlier had felt.
"What?" She asked softly, cocking her head to one side with…something dancing behind her eyes. They weren't twinkling with mirth as such…but they were just, alive with an energy of some kind. "What did you say?" She asked again, her voice even quieter this time as she brushed his messy hair gently out of his eyes.
"I um…I said you were…that you look…" He stumbled over his words, the light touch of her fingertips sending sensations shooting through his skin to impact with devastating force in his brain, making his knees weak with the tremors of each successive wave of sensation and reducing his mental capacity to that of a flobberworm.
"Hmm?" She half-said, half breathed as she continued to play with his hair, not really meeting his eyes as her hand began to slide slowly, inexorably down his cheek, following the line of his jaw.
"That you look…very pretty…Her-Hermione." He finally managed to say, shocked at how difficult that had been. A small, satisfied smile crossed her face for just a second, her hand lingering by his chin, before she beamed fully at him.
"Thank you." She said brightly, before nearly skipping back to her bag. Ron chose that point to walk into the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks as he took in a very pale, slightly trembling Harry and a radiant, happy Hermione. His eyes tracked between the two with a furious speed, brow furrowing as he added the two pieces together.
"Shall we be off then?" Hermione chirped, as she passed Ron to get out into the hallway, shrugging a lightweight jacket on as she did so. "Come along, boys!" They waited until they heard the front door open before meeting each other's gazes, Ron looking slightly concerned.
"You alright, mate?" He asked, reaching subconsciously for another biscuit.
"What," Harry began after a moment, hand absently touching his chin where her fingertips had so recently been, "The bloody hell, was that?"
Author's Note:
Hello again all, this is probably going to be a two-part piece. Nothing major's going to happen in it, just a bit of fluff. Because, well, I needed cheering up today, and I felt like writing something like this :)
I have to confess a bad though, I lifted a line from Spaced, because I just thought it was superb. The line in question is:
"Easy, tiger." He smiled, picking up a paperweight and tossing it idly between his hands. "I just don't get this whole," he paused, as if thinking of the words "inter-gender platonic relationship thing."
It's from an episode in the first season, and Tyres is the speaker, although I forget which episode specifically.
"Spéiread ach Eanach", the Potter family motto, is supposed to read "Courage And Honour" in Gaelic, but I used a dodgy online translator, so it's probably horrifically wrong. Oh well.
If anyone gets the song reference in this part, I hope it made you smile :D
So yeah, tell me if you liked it. I personally had a lot of fun writing it :) It was only supposed to be a brief one-shot at first, but I was having such a good time I thought I'd carry it on.
- Castledown.