HP

Honestly, Harry really didn't know if he was prepared to open his eyes that morning. He could feel the withering hangover already begin, and his head was pounding to match his heartbeat.

He heard his bedroom door open quietly and a small female giggle erupted. He screwed his shut even tighter and turned to his side, hearing a scrape as the curtains were opened to reveal daylight.

He vaguely remembered coming back from the club last night with Ron and Hermione… they had dropped him home and then…his roommate helped him into bed. He also remembered getting very drunk and dancing with a gorgeous bartender on a table to a song about feeling magic every night. I wonder what happened to him. He was very friendly. His raging libido liked the man, at least.

"So," a soft voice murmured close to his ear as she sat on the bed next to him. "Mr. I'm-gonna-drink-till-I-can't-remember-my-name…how does the hangover feel?"

He simply groaned in reply, reaching out to try and push her away. She caught his arm and abruptly bent it until he whimpered and pulled it back. Curse her for being such a strong fighter—with and without a wand.

"Brat," he whispered, unable to sound fierce with the pounding headache. At least she was a quiet brat.

"Oh!" She shouted suddenly. He yelped slightly and put his hands over his ears. "Here I was being so nice and quiet, because I know it's your birthday, and I wanted to be the first to say Happy Birthday, and you call me names—"

"Okay," he sat up and finally opened his eyes blearily, reaching out and putting a hand over her mouth. He knew it would be easier than arguing with her. "I appreciate you being quiet, sorry for calling you a brat."

"Hm." She looked smug under his hand and he pulled his hand back before she could bend it backwards again. "That's what I thought. Happy birthday, by the way. And I made some coffee to go with the hangover potion. That stuff tastes nasty on its' own."

He smiled and put a hand through his hair ruggedly, but it was just as messy as it usually was. "Thanks, Mia. For both."

"Yeah yeah, whatever, punk," she said, just before she unceremoniously pushed him off the bed.

"Hey!" He yelped again, surprised. He heard her laugh and just as he grabbed his wand from under the pillow, she closed the door, making his stinging hex bounce off uselessly.

"Hurry up, work starts in fifteen minutes!" She called through the door.

He got up and used his wand to make his bed, then slouched over to his bathroom. While he waited for the water in the shower to warm up, he stripped off his pajamas and got in, shivering from the heat and then relaxing as he soaped up.

Harry had been living with Mia for two or three years now, and he was used to having the little brat around. They took care of each other, and had become best friends since they first got partnered back in auror-training. He could remember it clearly as if it were yesterday…

He had entered training feeling nervous without Ron (who was running the joke shop with his brother) or Hermione (who was back at Hogwarts for her seventh year).

He honestly didn't know who to sit with and the entire room seemed to already be partnered up, and so he stalked to the back row, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Everyone was staring at him and whispering, but he was used to that. He finally stopped and saw a girl who was not looking at him, but actually looking at nothing, bored already—her feet were up on her desk and she was curling a lock of hair around her finger lazily—and sat next to her.

He introduced himself quietly, and was amazed when she introduced herself with a small smile and seemed to really not recognize him—that was a shock. She spoke offhandedly, as if she honestly didn't care what anyone though, introducing herself as "Mia Hawthorne." After a few moments, she paused and noticed that everyone was staring at them, and took her feet off the desk.

"Are you the teacher or something?" She asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He noticed she had an odd accent, as if she wasn't from England.

Later, found out that she had just come from America, a fact that she was very proud of. She had long hair down to her elbows that matched his own jet-black hair color. With an almost calculating look in her dark brown eyes, she stared at him.

"No, um… people just usually act that way around me," he sighed. If this girl really didn't know who he was, should he push his luck?

"Well, all right," she shrugged and he relaxed.

Just then, the teacher really did come in and everyone straightened up and listened closely as he told everyone to choose a partner that they would be willing to work and live with for the next year and half.

Harry tensed again and looked at the girl, who simply smirked at him.

"Wanna be partners, Mr. Popular?" She asked—straightforward and blunt. Little did he know, that when he nodded, he would be agreeing to a life-changing friendship.

At present, he got out of the shower and rubbed himself dry, pulling on his Auror robes and grunting at his reflection in the mirror. In his eyes, he looked the same, but Hermione said he had grown more handsome the last few years (although that may have been just to rile up Ron, who was defensive of just about everything).

Well, there was a change that was obvious—he had been subjected to Ginny's wand and she had rid him of his glasses forever, so now his green eyes would never be hidden behind those rounded frames anymore.

And a change that was not as obvious. He smirked and remembered the bartender from last night again. And he also remembered when he had shouted towards Hermione over the loud thumping club music: "I'm going to drink until I can't remember who the hell Harry Potter is!"

He winced at the memory and left his room, going into their kitchen where Mia was sitting at the small dining table and reading from their case folder while sipping her coffee. He grabbed his own mug from the counter and gulped some down, relishing the feel of the hangover potion as it got rid of his headache. He relaxed and reached over to her plate, sneaking the remains of her toast and popping it into his mouth.

Over time, they had grown close, being excellent partners (they had already solved tons of cases together) and also excellent roommates. They didn't need to live together anymore for training, but it was just easy and so they kept the same arrangement. He didn't know why, but he was extremely overprotective of her, as if she were his little sister…even though she was from a pureblood family in America and only a few months younger than him.

Mia had been the one to help him discover that he was gay—something he would never have guessed at until she mentioned it last year and he had argued profusely, not taking it seriously. He realized she was right when he simply lost interest sexually with Ginny, and they broke up on friendly terms. After that, he went through various encounters with men, and his friends had helped him through it.

The world had just discovered his sexuality a few months ago, and he was brought back into the limelight with a vengeance— as smothering as they were, he just had to grit his teeth and get through it, and now they had just finally started backing off. Right now, he was single, and he was just trying to enjoy life as much as "the boy who lived" possibly could.

"Harry," Mia said. He looked up, but she wasn't looking at him, she was still reading, biting down on her lip while pondering the paper in front of her.

"What is it?" He asked, looking over at the case folder. She pushed it towards him with her trademark smirk on her face.

It wasn't a case that she was reading, but actually, it was a letter from Kingsley addressed to her.

Dear Auror Hawthorne,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health this morning.

I have arranged a ministry gala to occur tonight, and this news was kept under wraps because I know how much Harry hates to attend these parties.

Please, if you can find it in your power, persuade Auror Potter to come tonight. Tell him it's not a birthday celebration, so he has no need to be agitated, but it is mandatory that he be there.

I want to personally make sure that he knows the Ministry still approves of him, and that he has nothing to be ashamed of.

See you both tonight at 7 sharp in the Ministry banquet hall,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Minister of Magic

He looked up from the letter and glared at Mia, almost daring her to make a comment. She bit her lip again, and just barely hid a grin. Nothing to be ashamed of. As if he was ashamed of being gay—which he most definitely was not.

"I'm not going to a bloody Ministry gala on the night of my 21st birthday," he said through gritted teeth.

"Ha, as if you have a choice, punk," she said. She always called him punk and he always called her brat.

"I'm not going."

"He said 'if you can find it in your power' and I assure you, I will use every play in the book to use my power," she sneered playfully. She knew he would go—he wouldn't disappoint Kingsley like that.

"If you went to Hogwarts, there is no doubt you would be in Slytherin."

"What's a Slytherin?" She asked, confused. "Is that a disease?"

And with that, they left for work.

A/N: Please comment/review! This is my first Harry Potter fic, so I need all the help I can get! Thank you!