Summary: Set eight years after Hogwarts. What happens when Harry's new
flatmate turns out to be someone he hasn't seen since Hogwarts?
A/N: Oooooookey. This fan fic is a little something that I came up with in around half an hour. Don't ask me why. Ask Klypto, my muse (who is sometimes male and sometimes female. Currently, she is a female. Even if she is in her male form, I still refer to her as 'she', so, basically, I guess she's a girl). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, I am sorry to say that I can't update it as often as I'd like, due to the fact that I have many unfinished fics out there that I . . . well . . . that I have to finish. Please enjoy and REVIEW!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does NOT belong to me. Believe me, if I owned it, I would've made Harry and * muffled name beginning with . . . * get together in the second or third book. But, sadly, I don't. Anyway, that's enough disclaimer for today!
Losing Grip
Prologue
Harry James Potter awoke in his muggle house, flat, or whatever you wanted to call it (Harry preferred 'flat') to a beautiful morning. Although (to his annoyance) it was only seven am, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, there was a lovely aroma of something burning . . .
Burning?!?
Harry immediately jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs, completely oblivious to the fact that he was only in his boxers and that all the curtains to all the windows in his house (and there were a LOT of windows) were open, giving the neighbours a perfect view of 'that lovely Harry gentleman' running down the stairs as if his house was on fire.
Which, keep in mind, it probably was.
Harry ran into the kitchen.
"Shit!" he groaned - there was smoke rising up from his cooker.
"Right. Gas cooker. I forgot," Harry said to himself as he turned the cooker off. There was still smoke rising up from it. He quickly shut the curtains so that his neighbours wouldn't see what he was about to do.
He grabbed his wand from his boxer pocket and conjured up some water, which he threw onto the cooker.
Seemingly satisfied, he was just about to walk out of the kitchen when his whole cooker went up in flames.
Lucky his ceiling was fireproof.
'Damn. Now I'm gonna have to buy a new cooker,' Harry mused, before extinguishing the fire with his wand, sighing as he observed the piece of, and going back upstairs to get some more sleep.
A/N: Well, I know that this was quite short, but it's a PROLOGUE. So, in my book, it generally HAS to be short. If you want longer chapters in the future, all you have to do is REVIEW!!!! Hey, that rhymed!
A/N: Oooooookey. This fan fic is a little something that I came up with in around half an hour. Don't ask me why. Ask Klypto, my muse (who is sometimes male and sometimes female. Currently, she is a female. Even if she is in her male form, I still refer to her as 'she', so, basically, I guess she's a girl). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, I am sorry to say that I can't update it as often as I'd like, due to the fact that I have many unfinished fics out there that I . . . well . . . that I have to finish. Please enjoy and REVIEW!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does NOT belong to me. Believe me, if I owned it, I would've made Harry and * muffled name beginning with . . . * get together in the second or third book. But, sadly, I don't. Anyway, that's enough disclaimer for today!
Losing Grip
Prologue
Harry James Potter awoke in his muggle house, flat, or whatever you wanted to call it (Harry preferred 'flat') to a beautiful morning. Although (to his annoyance) it was only seven am, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, there was a lovely aroma of something burning . . .
Burning?!?
Harry immediately jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs, completely oblivious to the fact that he was only in his boxers and that all the curtains to all the windows in his house (and there were a LOT of windows) were open, giving the neighbours a perfect view of 'that lovely Harry gentleman' running down the stairs as if his house was on fire.
Which, keep in mind, it probably was.
Harry ran into the kitchen.
"Shit!" he groaned - there was smoke rising up from his cooker.
"Right. Gas cooker. I forgot," Harry said to himself as he turned the cooker off. There was still smoke rising up from it. He quickly shut the curtains so that his neighbours wouldn't see what he was about to do.
He grabbed his wand from his boxer pocket and conjured up some water, which he threw onto the cooker.
Seemingly satisfied, he was just about to walk out of the kitchen when his whole cooker went up in flames.
Lucky his ceiling was fireproof.
'Damn. Now I'm gonna have to buy a new cooker,' Harry mused, before extinguishing the fire with his wand, sighing as he observed the piece of, and going back upstairs to get some more sleep.
A/N: Well, I know that this was quite short, but it's a PROLOGUE. So, in my book, it generally HAS to be short. If you want longer chapters in the future, all you have to do is REVIEW!!!! Hey, that rhymed!