Chapter 6
Harry groaned as the alarm went off at six A.M. Mycroft had left around eleven thirty at night, and Harry was exhausted. By the time he had gotten to bed, it was just past midnight.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice floated through the doorway. Her head peaked through the open crack, and her sleep weary eyes glanced over him.
"Yeah, 'Mione?" Harry croaked back to her in question. Sighing, he threw the covers off of his body and stood up in just his boxers. He glanced unconcernedly back at Hermione. "Yeah?"
"How was yesterday with Mycroft? I mean, he's related to Sherlock Holmes, so I can't imagine the man's all that…pleasant," she whispered, stepping further into the room. Harry cracked a grin at her and ran a hand through his hair.
"No, he's kind of…brass, but I think you would like him. He's very straight forward—" Harry opened his closet and searched through the dress clothes. "—and likes to get right down to business."
He sighed and puttered through his wardrobe again.
"Here." Hermione's hand covered his own, holding a sky blue button up in place. "Wear this with black dress pants."
Harry let go of a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thanks, 'Mione. You're the best."
"I know," she said, turning to sit on the bed. "You'll let me help you decorate your apartment when you get it, right?"
"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "If Mycroft allows it, at least. Can you turn around? I want to put on new boxers."
Hermione did without complaint. "Okay, you can turn back now."
Harry pulled up his dress pants and let them hang open with the belt dangling at the front. Pulling on the button up, Harry buttoned them one by one until he was a slight opening at the base of this throat. His shirt was tucked in and his pants done up quickly after. "Good?"
"Good," Hermione agreed, and hopped off the bed. "Go, do what you need to do—do not get your socks dirty!—and I'll go make us breakfast."
"Yes, mum!" Harry grinned cheekily back at her and bound out of the room. He arrived in the bathroom a few doors down and quickly brushed his teeth and put on deodorant. He then slipped his contacts in and few back out the door and to the kitchen before stopping dead.
"Oatmeal and fruit? Really, 'Mione?" Harry groaned.
Hermione threw him an affronted look. "Yes, really, Harry. Now eat." She sat at the table in front of him and began to eat. Harry grumbled, but sat down too and began to nibble at the oatmeal.
Ten quiet minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Hermione jerked up excitedly, "I'll get the door, you go get your shoes on!"
Harry rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. As he was walking back down the stairs, he heard Hermione and Mycroft's voices drift quietly through the hallway.
"—learning to apparate, shopping for clothes and his apartment, and acquainting himself with Miss Molly Hooper."
"Learning to apparate? Isn't that illegal for people our age?"
"Yes, but Harry has special clearance."
"By whom?"
"By me."
As silence resounded, Harry decided this was a good time to step in and let them know he was back. "Haven't you heard, Hermione? This man is practically the British government," he joked.
"Really? Well, nice to meet you, Mr. British Government. I'm Hermione Granger, the girl who is basically Harry's older sister and trying to make sure the idiot won't get arrested for underage apparation," Hermione said, eyes glaring daggers at Harry, who cringed under her gaze. "Especially because the idiot just had a hearing about underage magic."
"Yes, yes, alright, Hermione. Thank you," Harry recovered quickly, trying to get her to be silent. He glanced at Mycroft, but his face remained impassive. Hermione's gaze softened when Harry turned back to her. In an instant, she darted forward and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck in a tight hug. Immediately, his arms came up around her waist to reciprocate the hug.
"Be safe, Harry," she whispered into his neck. "Go have fun with Mycroft!" She unlooped her arms from around Harry and softly nudged him in the shoulder. Grinning widely, he took a step back and turned to face Mycroft.
"Well, let us go, then."
Mycroft held his eyes for a moment or two before holding his umbrella out in front of himself. "After you."
Harry raised an eyebrow, but went forward to the door. "Bye, 'Mione!" Harry called back behind him.
"Bye, Harry, Mr. Holmes," Hermione said back, just as Harry stepped out of Grimmauld Place.
The air was damp and thick with fog, the sky a deep charcoal. The trees rattled in the breeze down the way, the wind causing Harry to shiver slightly. A black Mercedes waited by the curb silently, and Harry started toward it. He opened the door just as Mycroft closed the door to Grimmauld Place. Harry relaxed slightly into the warm leather seats, and looked out of the window at the angry sky as Mycroft climbed into the car.
"Is it supposed to storm today?" Harry asked quietly, when Mycroft finally settled and the car began to move.
"It would seem that way, yes." Harry just managed not to sigh in irritation. Mycroft was certainly not very friendly today. The rest of the trip to London was silent.
"Shopping first, then?" Harry asked warily as they stopped in front of a designer store that Harry had only ever dreamed of buying from.
Mycroft did not answer Harry but responded with a calculating look. "How many pieces of dress clothes do you own?"
"Uh, one suit, a pair of black trousers, a pair of khakis, two pairs of dark wash jeans, one polo, and two button downs?" Harry responded, his tongue sticking out slightly in thought. "And we're leaving—alright."
Harry hurried after Mycroft who strutted into the store, umbrella dutifully in hand, as if he owned the place. A bell above the door rang quietly, and a man in his, presumably, forties appeared behind the counter looking harrowed. His thinning, salt and pepper hair was everywhere, and the man had smile lines like no other.
"Mr. Holmes!" he exclaimed. "What can I do for you today?"
Mycroft smiled thinly. "Mr. Benson, a pleasure to see you again. I will be needing a full set today, I believe."
Mr. Benson grinned and nodded his head in agreement. "For you or for the young man standing next to you?"
"It will be for Harry, yes."
"Harry, my good lad! C'mon back!" Mr. Benson cried, gesticulating his apparent excitement. "Mr. Holmes, feel free to follow us back, if young Harry is okay with it, of course, or you may sit up front here."
Harry stepped forward to follow Mr. Benson to the back and heard Mycroft's soft footsteps fall behind him. The room Mr. Benson had led them to had four mirrors, one on each side of the wall with a few feet of sky blue wall in between them. A rack of different rolls of fabrics was on the left, and a closet filled with what had to be hundreds of different clothing articles was on the right. In the center of the room was a pedestal of a sort, of which laid a measuring tape.
Mr. Benson raced forward and snagged the measuring tape, and muttered, "Alright then, Harry, hop up on there."
Harry did as he was told, and Mr. Benson went right to measuring every part of his body imaginable, writing something down in a notebook every so often. During this, Harry stared awkwardly at Mycroft, who clearly had no sympathy whatsoever for him.
Minutes later, Mr. Benson was finally done. "A full set, correct?"
"Yes."
"And should I have them delivered or will you be back to pick them up?" Mr. Benson asked, his pen swirling furiously.
"Deliver them to this address," Mycroft said, sliding the man a slip of paper.
Mr. Benson accepted the paper and glanced it over. "Perfect. I'll say it delivered say…Well, its Friday today so…Monday by six P.M.?"
Mycroft nodded his acceptance. "Good day, Mr. Benson."
"Take care of yourselves, Mr. Holmes, Harry," Mr. Benson replied, sparing a glance at each of them.
"You as well, Mr. Benson. Thank you," Harry replied, grinning slightly in the man's direction, before turning and following Mycroft out of the store. "Ah, hell!" Harry cursed as he stepped out into the pouring rain, and began running to the car that was still parked on the curb.
Safely secured in the dry car, but soaking wet, Harry and Mycroft shivered in the warm air blasting from the vents. Soon the car was moving again.
"Mycroft," Harry said suddenly. "What is a full set?"
Without even turning to look at Harry, Mycroft replied, "Twelve pairs of dress trousers, five pairs of dark wash jeans, four pairs of sweatpants, fourteen pairs of boxer-briefs and socks, twenty-one button up shirts, seven undershirts, seven t-shirts, and seven three-piece suits."
Harry's jaw dropped before Mycroft even finished his sentence. "Holy shit! That must cost a fortune, Mycroft! That's too much!"
To his credit, Mycroft's expression did not even quiver an inch. "You'll need it all—trust me."
Harry just stared at him in astonishment. "You're unbelievable."
Mycroft stopped looking out of the window and turned toward Harry, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Close your mouth, it's unbecoming." Harry's jaw snapped shut.
A few minutes later, the car slowed again and Mycroft rumbled, "We're here," and got out of the car. Harry hurried to follow, and immediately recognized the scene, even through the foggy rain.
"The Ministry?" Harry hissed quietly, falling in line with Mycroft. "What are we doing here?"
They entered the phone box in a tight squeeze. Mycroft punched in a long number before responding, "Your apparition license."
And then the floor dropped.
The reception area of the Ministry looked the same as it did a few weeks, Harry thought, unsurprised. The only different thing was there were more people today as it was eleven o'clock on a weekday.
Harry kept glued to Mycroft's side as the man flashed a badge at the receptionist without even stopping. But the receptionist must have recognized Mycroft as he didn't even flinch.
The elevator was filled with people, and Harry's muggle attire made him feel out of place, but no one seemed to pay them any mind. They were, regretfully, the last people on the elevator when Harry and Mycroft finally stepped out in one of the basement levels.
"What are we doing down—"
"Harry!"
Who is it? Leave some love in reviews guys :) -KJ