Take-out boxes with ancestral chow-mien, a half empty jar of chutney, a dried up onion and some garlic that had taken root in the vegetable box. Harry poked at the contents of his cold box, and sighed. How long again before he could ask for Kreacher back?

He pulled out the one can of green beans that had been hiding in the yawning emptiness of his cupboards and tossed it into the bin. No power on this planet could make him eat green beans ever again. He had had to eat more than his share during his years with the Dursleys as green beans were one of the few things Dudley despised, and would thus be in ample supply as leftovers for Harry to eat.

Grabbing his coat, making sure he had his wallet on him, Harry decided that he would eat out. That was what restaurants were for. Eating out.

Twenty minutes and one lonesome walk into Muggle London later, Harry found himself seated on the sticky plastic chair of a hole-in-the wall greasy spoon.

The fry up was good, plentiful and came on a chipped white plate. Harry didn't mind. He strew salt onto his sunny side up, happily dipping his soldiers into the runny yolk.

The restaurant's grimy swing-doors opened and with the plastic-y rattling of the pink beaded-curtain, a sloshed couple tumbled in, carrying in laughter and the smoky smell of a night spent in the clubs.

The girl had bright red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail and big, sparkly, hoop earrings. Her bangled arms were draped around the slim hips of a fit young man, about Harry's age, in a white shiny track suit with sky-blue racing stripes.

They sat at one of the tables near the door. Harry could make out snatches of their drunken attempts of a whispered conversation.

The bloke tried to slide his hand under the girl's tight pink top, but was swatted away repeatedly. "Not in front of the suit!"

"He wont mind! Who would mind a peek at those prime tits of yours?"

The girl giggled.

Harry unfolded his newspaper with an annoyed flap. Stupid happy couples. See if he cared.

:::

The canteen was much more crowded today with the new trainee Aurors being back from boot camp. Their numbers would dwindle, as they always did, after the first written exams.

Harry smiled, remembering his days as a trainee Auror. As he waited in line for his lunch, trying to make up his mind if it should include jam roly-poly, he observed the hustle and bustle going on in the lunch room.

"Your order, Mr Potter. Mr Potter?"

"Oh, eh, why yes, I'll have the spotted dick, Mildred. And the jam roly-poly." He gave her a winning smile and pushed his tray on.

Ron should be back too, and busy as always with paperwork. Harry snickered. As Ron told anyone who would listen, his trainees got dumber and dumber every year. He really had the old Snape routine down quite well. Harry watched the tables fill and sighed. With the room this crowded there was no escaping an awkward lunch conversation.

He noticed Snape, who had apparently been a couple of people in front of him, taking his lunch tray and making his way to the tables. A movement went through the room and Harry could see people elbow their unobservant neighbours. He frowned at the odd behaviour, puzzled.

Jackets were placed over the backs of chairs, people scooted closer together. Harry watched, first in amazement then in disgust, as recently empty chairs suddenly became 'reserved' the moment Snape made for them. Snape's back straightened, his face a carefully blank mask as he was snubbed table after table.

"Mr Potter!"

"Uh, sorry."

Harry turned and pressed the tip of his wand to the counter, validating the charge to his meal account. Taking his tray, he walked over to two adjacent empty seats.

He gave the other occupants of the table a blinding smile as jackets and purses were hurriedly removed to make room for him.

"Hallo. Mind if I sit here?"

There was a chorus of gratingly enthusiastic "Why, Mr Potter, of course not".

Harry put his tray down on the table, waving one hand in the air.

"Snape! Oy, Severus, over here. Here!" He enjoyed the horrified look on their faces. Several of them shot him dirty glances.

Snape seemed to inwardly debate his next course of action but then, to Harry's surprise and delight, took the seat opposite him.

"Mr Potter. I see you are feeling magnanimous again." He inclined his head in greeting.

"Harry. And I have no idea what you are talking about." He gave Snape an innocent smile that made his former Professor snort. "Well, I called you Severus just now, it would only be fair."

"Fair, Harry," Snape stabbed viciously at a piece of sausage, "has nothing to do with it."