Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Let me in! Are you even in there? Harry!" A voice shouted from the other side of the door.
Harry got up from his kitchen counter where he had been enjoying his nice breakfast of biscuits and sausage gravy, and opened the rattling door. "Shut the hell up, Ron. It's too bloody early in the morning for you to be breaking down my door."
Ron stepped inside and sat down at the counter, then turned to face his best friend. Harry handed him a cup of coffee. "Thanks," he said before taking a sip. "But Harry, it's noon! How could you possibly think that this is early!"
"I was up all night, but that's besides the point. You need to settle down, Ron. You've been yelling practically ever since stepped through my door. What's got you so uptight?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his fiery shock of hair. "Sorry 'bout that, mate. I have that flying expo to go to, remember? You promised I could borrow your Firebolt, Meteor: Platinum edition, and Flizzor, Harry."
Harry smiled. "Of course I remember, you dolt. I could never forget how much you whined to get at my Flizzor...If you mess that up in anyway, Oliver's going to kill you and I won't stop him." Each and every one of his brooms meant a lot to him, but he adored his Flizzor. (1) It was the official broom of the national quidditch leagues. It had his name engraved into the side in a splash of ruby, gold, and emerald, and it would turn on a pin seemingly with just a thought. It was one of the most perfect brooms Harry had ever encountered, and he had come across quite a lot of them. His collection was proof of that.
Ron's ears turned a bright red as was usual when he became embarrassed or angry. "Yes, well...I guess I did go a bit overboard there. I just want this to be a wicked exhibit. I've got all sorts of brooms for it: antiques, racers, trophies... It's amazing!" he exclaimed. Ron worked in the Ministry of Magic now. He was part of the 'Rules, Regulations, and Production of Flying Equipment' office.
"I can't wait to see some of the other stuff. I'll be by later to check it out. Who knows?" Harry said. "Maybe I'll come across something to add to my collection."
Ron laughed and shook his head disbelievingly. "I doubt that. You own more brooms than my entire office has gained over years! What could you possibly be missing?" Harry had a special room in his flat devoted completely to the numerous brooms he had gained from all over the world since he had left Hogwarts (and the two he had from there -one being the Firebolt, the other being the shattered pieces of his Nimbus 2000 put in a little glass case-). That room had to have been magically enlarged, of course.
Harry shrugged in good humor. "Stop it. I don't have one of ALL the brooms ever created. Anyways..." He picked his wand from his pocket before turning his head towards a back room and whistled. A dark blur shot out of the room and settled down in front of Harry's feet. "Here's the Flizzor and...'accio Firebolt', 'accio Meteor: Platinum'!" Said brooms also streaked out of the room and came to rest next to the Flizzor.
"Thanks, mate! I'll never forget you for this, and I'll never ask you for another favor again!"
He laughed. "Sure, Ron. And you'll be saying the same thing next week when you need something else!" Harry exclaimed with much mirth.
Ron sighed and grinned. "What can I say? Well, I'll talk to you later. Still coming to our dinner party tonight?" he asked.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Ron. It's your and Hermione's anniversary and I got to be there to help celebrate," he said, grinning, but then suddenly frowned. "I don't think that Jason will be coming though...I kind of broke up with him."
Ron also frowned. "Another one? Harry, you got to quit dumping boyfriends left and right! You say you want to find the perfect One, your Soul Mate, but you never keep one longer then a few weeks! How can you be sure you haven't already turned him away?"
Harry looked away, not wanting to meet his friend's eyes. "I can just...tell. I don't get the right vibe from them, and I don't want to be tied up with the wrong one when the right One does come!"
Ron smiled down at his shorter, raven-haired friend sadly. "I know, I know," he said, patting Harry on the back in a comforting way. "It's just I don't want to see you be alone forever. Me or 'Mione or any of your friends do. We all think the you've had your fair share of hardships. We want you to be happy."
He looked back up at him and gave him a watery smile. "Thanks. That, that really means a lot to me. I will find the perfect One though. I promise you that."
"You have my vote of confidence. I believe in you, Harry. I always will too."
"Yeah...Thanks, Ron. Thank 'Mione too. Best friends forever and all that, right?" he asked, getting up and walking to the front door to let his company out.
Ron got up and stretched. He picked up the brooms and set them over his shoulder. He walked over to his friend who now stood with the door open for him. Smiling again, he said, "Yeah, yeah. 'Til 'Mione loses her interest in books and we lose our interest in flying."
"Forever then. Bye, Ron. See ya later."
"See ya, Harry." With that, the tall, gangly red-head strode out the door to head for the convention with the three brooms. Harry watched after him for a bit longer before smiling and heading back to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed for the day and…He kinda wanted to talk to Draco again.
Their conversation last night had gone surprisingly well. Draco didn't seem to know anything about him as the Boy-Who-Lived or Voldemort, so their conversation was quite refreshing compared to what Harry normally had to endure from his 'devoted fans'.
-Flashback-
Dragonboy: So, Harry. Tell me a little about yourself.
Goldengriffen: Well, there's only a few things I can say besides what has been covered in interviews, magazines, and books…Even if some of those things are untrue. Um, I…I've recently taken up the pastime of writing…And my favourite colour is not red or gold, but green.
Dragonboy: Well…I have never really read anything about you. I suppose I could look up some stuff on the WWWWW…But that is a lot harder then it sounds. What other stuff is there about you? …And why would I think you favourite colour is red or gold?
Goldengriffen: Because I'm a Gryffindor. Or was, though I believe that I'll always be one…Even if I have some Slytherin qualities.
Dragonboy: I still do not know what you are speaking about, but that is fine. I was mostly just asking about pastimes and the like.
Goldengriffen: Um…O…kay…I guess I like magic, obviously since I am a Wizard. I also love brooms, Quidditch, writing, reading, and occasionally cooking. What about you?
Dragonboy: Well, I am not very familiar with this "Quidditch" of yours, but I do like jousting or swordplay when I can…Though mostly it is just me watching instead of participating. My mentor did not wish for me to become hurt, though problems like those were easily fixable. I also enjoy reading and researching as well as performing spells, as you do. I can create a pretty good potion too.
Harry paused and stared at the screen. 'Jousting and swordplay,' he mouthed to himself before shrugging. Well, it sounds interesting anyways.
Goldengriffen: Well, you know, Draco…I think that I am really going to like being friends with you. You don't fawn over me and I think that you will be able to teach me a bunch of new things. I could teach you some stuff too. Like quidditch! You'll have to tell me about jousting and whatever other things they do where you live.
There was a short pause. And then…
Dragonboy: Deal.
The rest of the night, the two talked about all sorts of things. From jousting and quid ditch, to the two dark lords they each new of. Harry learned that Voldemort used many similar things as Tromedlov did and if the ministry or Dumbledore could have found out some of the stuff he was now learning, many more would probably have survived. It just seemed as if no information was available on the man because of a minister several centuries before their time who had ordered the burning of all books on the dark lord. Supposedly he was trying to prevent anyone from following in his footsteps after a young witch had threatened to do just that. Harry found that part on the web when searching for more information…It seemed not even Draco knew that, if his several bold exclamation points were nothing to go by.
Finally after hours, the sun began to rise again and Harry knew he had to log off. Wishing farewell to his new friend, he signed out and crawled into his bed for sleep. He may not have accomplished much by ways of chapters, but he felt much more satisfied and happy then he had in a long time…
-End Flashback-
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(1) Yes, Harry is in the professional quidditch leagues and didn't just buy his Flizzor at some store. It's not like in the third book, how they were selling Firebolts at that one store and then that's what the pro teams rode in the forth book. Why was he going to write a few chapters the other night then, if he wasn't an author? That'll be sorted out in the next chappie.