Title: Three's Company
Author: J.K.A.
Rating: Currently PG-13
Disclaimer: As I'm sure you knew, I do not own Harry Potter
Summary: When circumstances lead to Hermione, Harry and Ron sharing a flat in London, all it takes is a few too many butterbeers to change everything…
Notes: This story takes place when the trio is eighteen. It is based on the more carefree side of Harry Potter, and although I don't think I'll go into the details, Harry and the gang defeated Voldemort for good in seventh year.
Chapter One: Because of a Dungbomb
Hermione was a successful young woman.
She rented her own flat over a coffee shop in downtown London, she had her own department in the Ministry of Magic, owned a respectable wardrobe of Muggle and Magical vintage, had an honourable amount of galleons at her disposal under Gringotts, and a large shelf full of heady books.
What her life lacked, however, was love.
At least at the moment. Viktor was off in Bulgaria for three months, going through extensive Quidditch training.
Not that he needed it, observed Hermione, every time she sat alone at night, missing him.
And she did miss him. When she wasn't at the Ministry typing up articles and reports and organising beneficial events for the Society of the Protection of Elvish Welfare, or pleading for a bill on illegalization of the slavery of house elves, she was thinking of him.
Viktor had been staying with her for two weeks before he went back to Bulgaria for his solid training. She missed the smell of his spray-on deodorant, his thick Bulgarian accent, his difficulty at pronouncing her name, his dark eyes; his big feet; taking low, moonlit broomrides with him in Hogsmeade, whilst clinging onto him for dear life. She felt so alone ever since he left, with only Crookshanks to keep her company these chilly nights.
Harry and Ron always stopped by quite often, even though Hermione could tell that Viktor was jealous of how close the three of them were, and Ron was extremely rude to him in return. Harry didn't really say anything to him.
Harry and Ron were sharing a flat in a modest building six blocks away, working at an exclusive new wizarding pub called Black Cat Pub, which was enjoying initial success, being the first all-wizarding business in London to be opened outside of Diagon Alley.
Hermione disapproved of such a career, but Harry and Ron insisted that they just needed a little break before they began their 'real' careers.
Hermione in return insisted that the pub business would ruin them before they got around to choosing a proper career path.
When this happened, Ron and Harry would roll their eyes and go back home to get ready for another night of work at the Black Cat.
* * *
It was a chilly Friday night in early October that Hermione lay curled up on her squashy red sofa, Crookshanks purring at her feet. She paused in her reading of The Pitiful History of the House Elf, to ponder the thought of her two best friends, who had inadvertently made their way into her head.
She realised that she hadn't seen them in a total of eight days. She was surprised to feel a pinch of hurt in her stomach. Had they forgotten about her? Even with their clashing work schedules, they usually came by at least twice a week with a case or two of butterbeer [especially now that Viktor was away], and some sort of little present for her; be it a book or a bottle of ink that changed colours depending on your mood when you wrote with it.
When she had the chance, she usually stopped by to see them as well, but this week had been particularly busy at the Ministry.
Resting her book on her chest, she stared out of the window at the red and white light beams from the cars on the street, sleep playing with her eyelids and a yawn escaping her lips.
A comforting sleep was just swallowing her when a loud, rude knock at the door forced her awake. Jumping up, she hesitated, consulting her watch and learning that it was 11:43 PM. Yawning again, she stumbled sleepily to the door.
Upon opening it, she was somehow not surprised to find Ron and Harry, grinning before her, each carrying a large battered suitcase, and Harry holding Hedwig's cage in his other hand. They seemed unsteady on their feet, their eyes glassy as they stared back at her.
She rubbed her eyes and groaned, cursing herself for wishing to see them just a few moments earlier. She knew exactly what was up. She could hear the two of them playing out the ridiculous story in her head as she stood there holding the door open, fixing them with the critical stare they were quite accustomed to receiving from her.
They all stood there for a moment, before Ron and Harry glanced at each other and back at Hermione, and Ron opened his mouth. Hermione's hand shot up instantly.
"-Don't!" she snapped. "Instead of you telling me what's going on, why don't I tell you? You got kicked out of your flat for doing something characteristic of the both of you, packed your bags, and without any notion of what else to do, you went to the Leaky Cauldron for a few low-budget drinks, got yourselves pissed enough to have the courage to come to my flat to tell me your story, hoping I'd have pity on you and tell you to stay here until you find another place."
She stood before them with her hands on her hips, critical stare in its best form.
"But you don't know what we did to get thrown out, do you?" Ron said in a mocking tone.
"Oh yeah, it was classic-" Harry began.
"And I bet you're really proud of whatever it is, aren't you?" Hermione interrupted crossly.
"Well," said Ron, "I for one am proud to know that I have two big brothers who can make a dungbomb powerful enough to evacuate a whole building. And Mum said a career in the joke-shop business would never excel-"
"You did WHAT?! Forced the entire building to evacuate by setting off a dungbomb?!" cried Hermione, throwing her hands in the air and obtaining the expression of a mother very distressed at the unacceptable behaviour of her teenage children.
"We didn't try to set it off!" shot Harry in defense.
"Well you shouldn't have had it in the first place! And Ron, your mother was absolutely right when she told the twins that!"
"It's none of your concern anyway! We just need a place to stay the night. We thought you were our friend. If you came to our door in the middle of the night, we'd let you stay." Said Ron in a voice that was supposed to sound sugary for persuasion.
"Ron! Number one, you don't have a door anymore. Number two, I'm much too responsible to get myself thrown out of my flat. Number three, it is my concern, because it means that I'm obligated to accommodate the two of you on account of something I had no part in!"
Her head was pounding now, and she knew that as angry as she was at them for their antics, there was no way she would slam the door in their faces. A part of her secretly wanted to have her best friends living in her flat to keep her company. If it had been the middle of the day and she'd had all her strength, she would have argued more and beat around the bush with many more lectures and scoldings on what they'd done, and excuses for not letting them stay there. But she was growing very sleepy again after a long week at work, and she had nothing left in her to keep up the bullheaded façade she always felt she had to wear when she was around them. She was not completely sure why it had always been that way, but it was.
"Oh fine. All I know is I'm about to fall over from lack of sleep, and ever since Viktor left, I've had no one to talk to when I'm not at work. So stay here for a while, it doesn't matter. As long as you each pay thirty-three point three percent of the rent and don't blow anything up. One of you can sleep on the sofa, the other can make a bed on the floor. But- I don't expect you to interpret this as a permanent invitation."
"Yeah, only Vicky would be granted an invitation like that." Spat Ron nastily.
He looked guilty the moment the words had escaped his lips, and Hermione decided to ignore the remark. She had gone through too many arguments with Ron over Viktor, and their source remained unclear to her anyway, so what was the use of letting yet another unfold?
With an impatient huff, she grabbed a hold of both their coats and pulled them inside the door.