AN: Not quite sure where this one came from, but I hope you enjoy. Mind this story is as of yet un-beta'd.

"Harry! Wake up!"

Harry groaned and rolled over in his bed. It was Sunday. Why the bloody hell was his partner at his house on his only bloody day off? Actually scratch that, knowing Samantha, she probably had no reason whatsoever.

He heard the door to his bed room click open.

"Harrryyyy……" She called softer this time.

Harry rolled over in his bed and pulled the covers up over his head.

"Harry I know you are awake so immerge from your… bed so I can tell you the news." Harry rolled over and glared at Samantha. She was looking around his room with more than a hint of disgust. Harry glanced around his still dark room, taking in the piles of dirty laundry, the moldy boxes of take out, the various dishes strewn about the room, the empty beer bottles on the nightstand by the bed, and then there was his bed; a mess of tangled blankets strewn across a lumpy mattress. So maybe he hadn't cleaned in a while, but it wasn't his fault.

After the war Harry had done exactly as everyone had expected him to do, he got a job as an auror at the ministry and had married his childhood sweetheart Ginny Weasley. Things had been good, for a while.

But Ginny steadily grew unhappy with Harry, and Harry steadily grew more engrossed in his work.

About a month ago Ginny left him. A week later Harry got the divorce papers in the mail. After that he moved out of what had been their house and purchased a small apartment in muggle London. He had to wonder how his partner Samantha had even found out where he lived now. That was supposed to be one of the most well kept secrets in wizarding Britain. At least that's what Witches Weekly had said in their latest article about him. As far as Harry had known only Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley knew where he had moved to after the divorce. He wondered which one had cracked.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily, his head hurt, and he was probably hung over. "How the hell did you find… Who the hell told you where I live?"

"Why our lovely minister of course my dear hung over partner." Samantha said as though it was the most obvious fact in the whole damn world and Harry was merely daft for not knowing it.

"And why did Kingsley tell you this highly classified information?" Harry said, rubbing his temples and not at all happy to see his overly cheerful partner at this early hour on his one and only day off.

"He told me because I asked Harry, why else?" She said.

Harry sighed. Honestly there was no point in trying to rush Samantha's story, whatever it was. He knew she absolutely loved telling stories, and guessing by the glint in her eyes she especially enjoyed this one, which probably meant she would take an especially long time to tell it.

After running over to the corner store to buy some ingredients, because all Harry had in his refrigerator was beer and a jar of peanut butter that was probably past date, Harry set about cooking some pancakes. Samantha set about watching his "tele-whatsit" otherwise known as a television. Samantha came from a pureblood, not that well known, family that had originated somewhere not in Britain. She was often fascinated with whatever Muggle contraption she found in Harry's, or anyone else's for that matter, possession; Harry was often forgetting the family history she had a habbit of telling him whenever the mood struck her.

Samantha was especially fond of the" tele-whatsits."

Harry wasn't really sure why Samantha always made him cook whenever she had a story to tell him. It didn't matter where they were, when one is with Samantha story time is eating time. Harry supposed it was her logic that seeing as she was providing the story, Harry should provide the food.

Of course Harry often didn't really understand Samantha's logic, so the real reason it was always Harry's job to cook could be something else entirely.

It had to be home cooked too, no take out or pizza allowed (even if Samantha did delight in talking on the "tele-foam.") Harry would be the first to admit that he was certainly not the best cook in the world, he could make pancakes and bacon and a few other dishes fit to the Dursley's liking but that was about it. Samantha however, always insisted that he cook.

About an hour after Harry had given up on getting the information in a timely manner the pancakes and the bacon and the sausage were done, and Harry and Samantha sat at the small kitchen table. Harry had never really expected to entertain guests at his new apartment, the only people that were supposed to know about it where Ron and Hermione who were now often much to busy with their children to spend much time with Harry, and Kingsley who wasn't exactly prone to house calls and was only told the location 'in case of emergency.' So Harry hadn't bothered with purchasing the appropriate dinning equipment for entertaining guests. In fact the only reason he even had this cramped little table was because it had come with the apartment and he hadn't bothered to throw it out.

"We are going on a trip" Samantha stated bluntly after practically inhaling her first two pancakes and her first six pieces of bacon.

Harry nearly choked on the sausage he had just bitten into. It was very unlike Samantha to be so blunt. She usually liked to drag things out, at least until she had had thirds.

"W-what?" Harry managed to get out, after downing some water.

"We are going on a trip, to the beach" She stated again patiently and slowly, as though she was talking to a small child.

"But why? And it's not like I can just up and miss work for…for… for how long?" Harry said, already picturing the look on Kingsley's face the last time he had asked for time off.

"We are going to the beach because it's beach season, and sure you can my work-alcoholic partner you, I already got your vacation time request approved by our dear minister" She said confidently pulling out a thick packet of forms from a bag Harry hadn't realized she had.

Harry looked at the forms.

"But these forms are for a 'medi-wizard forcefully recommended mental health break'…" Harry said.

"Well they are approved are they not?" she said, continuing to eat in the times Harry took for processing.

"But these requests need to be validated by a licensed medi-wizard…" Harry said, still utterly thrown off by Samantha's bluntness.

"Check page three love" Samantha said bearing down on a fifth pancake.

Harry did at he was told, after skimming the page he came to the bottom where an unmistakable handwriting boldly signed: Hermione Granger-Weasley.

Fuck.

AN: Sorry no Draco just quite yet, we will get to him eventually though I promise! Please tell me how you like Samantha, because I honestly LOVE writing about her. I originally invented her just as a means of driving the plot but now…

Anyways reviewers get imaginary Draco plushies.

Thanks ever so much for reading!