Summer Job

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter world! See JK Rowling if you want to know for sure!

Summery: Harry Potter has been forced to get a job over the summer... but the Order was not informed of this little arrangement... uh oh!

"BOY! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"

Harry Potter looked up from his half finished Potion's essay to listen to his Uncle's harsh breathing coming from the downstairs. His summer had only started a week ago and already he was being yelled at.

Harry trudged down the old stairs, jumping over the bottom and avoiding the annoying squeak. He turned to the living room and entered, noticing that Aunt Petunia was sitting in the corner in the Lazy Chair, and Vernon was standing next to their newly installed electric fireplace. Harry smiled inwardly as he remembered the incident that had resulted two summers ago. It had involved the Mr. Weasley blowing apart the wall, taking the gas fireplace with it.

"Sit down, boy." Uncle Vernon spat at him, pointing one swollen finger at the sofa.

Harry perched on the edge, waiting for his Uncle to continue. Anything that would make Vernon want to talk to him would be very interesting.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat loudly, second chin wobbling slightly. "Potter, this summer we... that is, your Aunt and I, believe that it is quite time that you started to pull your own weight around here."

Harry nearly snorted. After all, he had acted like the Dursley's personal servant for the past fifteen years.

"We have found you a job at Mrs. Squiggle's Market. You will be working there every day, including Sundays, from eight to eleven at night." Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at Harry, as though daring him to disobey. "Petunia has already bought you the standard underclothes needed, and I expect you to pay her back at the end of the week."

Harry watched blankly as his Uncle thrust a paper bag into his arms. He opened it up to reveal a pair of blue jeans (which looked as though they might fit) and a white tee shirt that didn't look at all baggy. Harry looked up at his Aunt, she only turned up her nose and sniffed. He supposed that it must have taken all of her will power to buy her nephew one decent set of clothes.

"You start work tomorrow."

Harry awoke the next morning to Aunt Petunia rapping on his door insistently, screeching at him that he had to be at work in an hour. He dressed in the jeans and tee shirt, which did actually fit him surprisingly well. Harry glanced over at an open piece of parchment on his desk and sighed. He had been writing to the Order yesterday... telling them he had a job now, and that he wouldn't be around much more. Remus had responded in an angry letter, telling him that he wasn't aloud to leave the house under no circumstances...

But he'd quickly squashed the idea. No matter how amusing it would be to tell Uncle Vernon that he couldn't go to work because his 'freaky friends' said he couldn't, it was the only real excuse that he had come up with so far to get away from Number Four Privet Drive.

Aunt Petunia gave him a sour look as he came down the stairs and placed a plate that consisted of half a grapefruit, toast, and a quarter of a cup of water. Harry wolfed down the exceptional meal and stood up to put the dishes in the sink. Petunia approached him and shoved a twenty pound note into his hand, acting as though she would rather do anything else than present her nephew with money.

Harry gave her a brief good-bye and then headed out the door. He looked around the deserted street before heading for his Job destination. Harry was actually pretty sure that the Order didn't start tailing him this early in the morning, so they weren't following. He felt so free... so free from the world that he was supposed to save.

It did get a bit annoying, really. Every time that Harry wasn't inside the Dursley's home, he was being watched by the members of the Order of the Phoenix. He had actually been able to tell when certain people were guarding him. When Mundungus was on duty, he apparated clumsily, and with a loud bang... when others such as Remus were on duty, he could hear a sharp crack, instead.

Harry pushed open one of the swinging doors that led into Mrs. Squiggle's Market, and walked into the shop. It was a little supermarket. Eleven rows filled with products, from shampoo to lemons, were crammed into the tiny store. He approached the small check out desk and spoke to an elderly old woman that was working there.

"Erm... excuse me, Miss?" Harry asked, plucking a piece of the shirt in nervousness.

The woman turned around and regarded Harry with a suspicious glare. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter." he told her, taking off the orange cap that he was wearing. "My Uncle said that he'd gotten me a job here..."

"Oh yes!" the woman replied, her face breaking into a toothless grin. "You're the hard working one aren't you!"

"Uh... yeah." What on earth had Uncle Vernon told this woman?

The elderly woman smiled at him and handed over a blued and white apron with a small cow on it. "You'll be working as a cashier for your job here. Just where the apron over your clothes. Cigarettes and Alcohol are only to be sold to those over 21 and if you have any problems just press the announcement phone and call for 'Sally.'"

"Are you Sally?" he asked.

"Yes I am. Oh! You'll also be needing..." Sally pulled out a white name tag and a permanent marker. She wrote down Harry's name, and then looked up, her dark blue eyes twinkling and gray hair escaping from the black fish net. "Here you are!"

"Thanks... um, is that all?" Harry asked, pinning the label to his apron.

"Well, for now that is." she told him, looking around. "Off to work with you now!"

Harry's day had been busy... and he found that when he was working, he didn't have much time to dwell on the wizarding world that much. His day was spent exchanging notes and credit cards. He didn't even stop to think about how he had left the Order without any idea of where he was. You couldn't blame him for not remembering though... he did have a lot to do...

Harry looked down at his present customer. She was a thirteen year old girl with dirty blond hair and a skirt that looked as though it could have passed for a bathing suit. She had a twelve pack of 'Blue Light' and a pack of cigarettes. She was looking at him expectantly.

"I'd like to check out please." she told him in a disgusted tone, as though he was below her.

"Just exactly how old are you?" Harry asked her, his eyes narrowing together. She seemed quite young to be wearing a tube top.

She clicked her tongue together impatiently. "Thirteen. Now will you check these out!?"

"I'm sorry, miss." he sneered at her, his opinion of her dropping even lower. "But you have to be at least 21 to be able to purchase either of these items."

The blond adopted a sort of purring tone and batted her eyelashes at him ridiculously. "Oh... I'm sure that we can work something out! There's a nice little alleyway on Shiopes Lane..."

Harry raised an eye brow at the teenage girl, who was obviously wrong in the head, and plucked the items off the conveyer belt. "I'm sorry, kid. You're way to young for that, anyway. Do you want a lolly pop?"

Harry held out a cheery flavoured sucker before the girl, barely hiding his smirk. She gasped in outrage, her brown eyes (which were covered by at least a full bottle of eyeliner) flashing dangerously. "What did you say?"

"You didn't hear me?" Harry decided to add 'deaf' to the list of the things wrong with this child. "Would you like a lolly pop, sweetie?"

The blond flipped back her mane of straggly hair and stomped out of the store. Harry sighed to himself and smiled.

"Well, they all can't be like Hermione... poor little Disturbed child."

It was about eleven thirty when Harry made his way home from Mrs. Squiggle's Market. His first day had been a success and not much of a hassle. Except for his run in with the 'Disturbed child' and a woman whose baby had spit up on the magazine rack, everything had been okay.

And now he was forced to come home.

Harry wondered what they had done all day, without him to push around... they were all probably sitting in the t.v. room, watching the news while Dudley clicked away on his new Game Boy advanced that Vernon had ordered all the way from America. Dudley never missed a cha -

"Don't move."

Harry froze in his tracks as he felt something dig into the back of his neck. He could feel the waves coming off the object in the person's hand... it was a wand.

He had been caught by a wizard.

"Well, well, well... Harry Potter. What a pleasant surprise." the speaker was breathing erratically in his ear. "I'm so glad that you finally decided to wander the night alone, Potter. It makes the Dark Lord's job quite easier."

"Malfoy." Harry whispered, he would remember that sneer anywhere.

"Very good, Potter." Lucius Malfoy told him, the wand being shoved even further into his neck. "I think that my Master will be most pleased to see you... Harry."

Harry felt his hands being grabbed roughly from behind and then being harnessed together behind his back. What ever was being used to tie them with was cutting into his wrists... he could already feel blood pooling in his wrists.

"Hmm... maybe a bit of fun is in order before I hand you over.... hmm.... Potter?"

Harry shut his eyes as he felt something sharp dig into the side of his arm. He whimpered as realized it was a small dagger. "Stop... please."

"Don't like it Potter, don't like — "

Harry was pushed roughly to the ground as a black shadow pulled out their wand and sent a flash of bight golden light at Malfoy, sending him sprawling to the ground. He was stupefied.

"Potter?"

He lifted his head a few centimetres off the ground as he saw who his saviour was... Professor Severus Snape.

The great black shadow, that was his professor, swooped down upon him and undid the bonds tying up his wrists. Harry felt Snape push his body back onto the pavement as he took his wrists to examine him.

"Do you have no brains at all, Potter!?" Snape hissed at him, dabbing at the cuts that were now bleeding sluggishly. "Wandering out in the middle of the night.... have the whole Order in a bloody panic..."

Harry tried pulling away from the potions master, but he caught him by the wrists again, tugging them above his chest. He watched as Snape took a tiny jar of violet cream out of his pocket and smother his wrists. Snape then took his wand out and tapped the wrists, white, sterile bandages wrapped around them securely. Harry tried to sit up.

"Stay still, will you!" Snape growled at him, pushing him back yet again. He lighted the end of his wand and held it up to Harry's eyes, looking for dilation. "Your pupils look fine..."

"Can I just go now?" Harry asked feebly, watching as Snape took his pulse and then healed the cut in his arm.

"You can after you tell me where you were today." Snape fixed him with a beady stare.

Harry sighed and sat up. The potions master immediately started examining the back of his head... looking for a contusion. "I have a job at Mrs. Squiggle's Market... I was coming home when Malfoy got me."

"And you didn't think it prudent to alert the Order of this sudden change?" Snape asked him, pulling Harry roughly to his feet.

"I told Remus!" Harry told him defensively, not saying how the werewolf told him that he couldn't have the job.

Snape growled under his breath and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, steering him back towards Privet Drive. "Lupin wouldn't know what was happening, had it been under his overlarged werewolf snout."

Harry sighed and allowed himself to be led back to Privet Drive. He noticed that his Professor was seething, a vein throbbing at his temple... probably angry at him for not telling Dumbledore about his job. They approached the Dursley household, and Harry made his way up the front walk as Professor Snape made his way in the direction of Mrs. Figg's house.

"Potter?"

Harry turned around slowly and met his Professor's dark stare. "Yes, sir?"

Snape smirked at him, "I'm sure that Miss Tonks will appreciate knowing that you thought of her as a 'Disturbed child.'" And with a flap of his black robes, he was gone.

Harry had a strange feeling, as he turned the front door knob, that Tonks was not going to be happy with him when he arrived at Grimmauld Place.

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