Chapter 3 Return

Harry looked up from his battered copy of the Daily Prophet to see a strange, runty kind of owl twittering on his window sill. Dressed only in a pair of shorts (the temperature for London in the Daily Prophet weather section read 32 degrees), he got off the bed and reached for the card held in the owl's claws. Squawking cheerily, it flew off to whence it came

Harry saw a glossy picture of a shimmery blue horizon and idyllic islands edged in sand. When he turned it in the light, the sand sparkled and the water rose and fell in its magical frame. On the other side, he saw the message was short:

Hi Harry! Wish you were here. Ron does too, but he's drank too much to get out of bed and go to buy postcards. See you soon H R

Harry tossed the postcard on the bed. He wasn't bothered what that pair were up to. He wanted them to get back pronto so they could get on with finding the flat. This past week at Grimmauld Place had been fun to start with, but another of Sirius' dinner parties he could do without.

He seemed to have a constant hangover, and he'd put on four pounds from his godfather's cooking. The stream of guests through the house, ostensibly there on Order business, seemed intent on having as good a time as possible night after night. Sirius and Remus seemed to know a great deal of people, many Harry had never met before, but of course, they'd all heard of him.

Though he'd craved a hectic social night that went beyond Hogsmeade and the common room, in truth he was knackered. His tiredness was compiled by the fact that it was too hot to sleep, so he would just drink till he passed out. This lead to several mornings crouched over the toilet bowl feeling more than awful.

Sirius and Remus didn't seem to mind. "You're your own man now," Sirius would say, "it's up to you to make your own decisions and your own mistakes."

Since when did you get so wise? Harry wondered to himself as he'd drifted back to bed that morning feeling like shit.

Still, tonight would be quiet. Sirius and Remus were going out to the opera.

"Want to come Harry?" asked Remus the night before. Harry had politely declined. Opera was certainly not his thing and he quite fancied having the house to himself for once. Since Sirius and Remus were both unemployed, they spent a lot of time hanging around the house and bickering. Harry had found it cute at times but not when he was constantly subjected to it day in day out. Indeed, he was hoping to start reading some of the required texts for his Auror course, which he had picked up in Diagon Alley the other day.

Prowling downstairs, he found things surprisingly quiet. A quick glance around the ground floor showed Sirius asleep in the library: Harry suspected Remus was out picking up some dry cleaning.

Comfortably seated in a kitchen chair, a big glass of milk beside him, and First Principles of Auror Theory propped up on the table, Harry began to relax into a leisurely afternoon. He had read precisely three paragraphs when the kitchen door banged open and his two best friends barged in, sporting tans, and in Ron's case, a dodgy straw hat.

"Harry!" cried Hermione, flinging down her smart hand luggage and giving him a hug. She flaunted a healthy sun-kissed glow but Ron, who was struggling with two large suitcases, had turned a rather nasty shade of lobster.

"Alright Harry?" Ron took off his hat and sunglasses and ruffled his hair with a sunburnt hand

"When did you get back?" Harry was surprised to see the pair, he'd only got that stupid postcard a few minutes ago. He felt churlish about it now though, he was excited to see them again and Hermione looked more relaxed than she had done in years. Leaving Hogwarts seemed to agree with her.

First Principles of Auror Theory lay forgotten under Ron's hat as the three of them began to catch up eagerly on the events of the past week.

"We flew in this morning," Hermione explained. "Then got the train here."

"Hermione insists on doing everything muggle-like," said Ron. "Because she'd leaving it all behind when we get our flat and she starts working at the Ministry."

"You got the job?"

Harry felt terrible, he'd completely forgotten about Hermione's interview at the Ministry for one of the internships the Minister of Magic's Office offered to talented graduates after they finished their NEWT exams. He knew the competition had been fierce, but surely Hermione had been a shoo-in for it? She'd come top in the NEWTS at Hogwarts, and she'd been Head Girl. If she didn't get it, who would?

Hermione sighed. "I haven't heard yet," she confessed, looking slightly nervous.

"Don't worry, you'll get it," reassured Ron, putting his arm round her waist. She did the same but it didn't go down well with Ron:

"Ouch, don't touch me there, it really bloody hurts!"

"Well I told you to put sun tan lotion on, didn't I?" said Hermione. "But oh, you didn't need it did you, you said you'd be okay..." she shook her head. "I warned you Ron, and with your skin..honestly," she looked completely exasperated and turned to Harry. "The first day, he fell asleep on the beach and came back bright pink!"

Harry giggled.

"Don't laugh," grumbled Ron, "If you'd kept an eye on me...."

"It's not my fault! You didn't want to go to the museum with me, remember? I had to go by myself. You said you wanted to sit in the sun as long as possible because we never get any in England. Your first holiday in bloody forever you said."

"Well you're wrong about that," said Harry. "It's been roasting here. Ron would probably look like that if he sat in the back garden for too long."

He drank some of his milk. "But you had a good time, all things considered?"

"Ooohh yes," beamed Hermione. "it was great. Can't wait to get started here though. I haven't brought much stuff with me, (Ron made a face at Harry, gesturing at the two huge suitcases he'd wrestled with since they landed), "but once we get a flat my parents are going to drive down with the rest of my things. They've got some stuff they said we could have as well, you know, bathmats and a toaster, that kind of thing."

"Fantastic" said Ron sarcastically.

Hermione pouted. "Don't mock Ron! We're not going to have much cash when we first start out. The pay of a trainee Auror and a just graduated ministry beaurocrat is not princely! It costs a lot to get on your feet, a deposit for the flat and the first months rent. Then there's the bills and buying groceries and loads of stuff you have to buy like a toilet brush and stuff. It's not easy!"

"Toilet brush?" Ron looked stunned. "Relax Herm, it's 'sposed to be fun living on our own. I hope you don't turn into Mum!"

"I'm not, but we have to be practical, we're gonna need stuff!"

"Hang on," interrupted Harry, sensing another argument similar to those they had at Hogwarts about to take over the entire afternoon. "Don't you think we should try and find somewhere to live first, before you two start bickering about toilet brushes or toasters or whatever?" He reached over to the pile of newspapers on the worktop. "I've been looking in the to-let section of the Daily Prophet all this week. Sirius and I have circled the good ones."

Hermione and Ron leaned over the table to look.

"You're right," said Hermione. "We've got to find somewhere to live first. Let's hope there's some half decent places in there."

"I wouldn't hold your breath," said Harry. He related the horror stories Sirius and Remus had told him on his first night home from Hogwarts.

"Christ I hope not," said Ron. "I don't mind a bit of chaos but I wouldn't mind running water."

Hermione nodded. "we'll have to find something liveable 'cos if your mum comes to visit and sees it's a death trap she'll have you dragged back to the Burrow in no time."

Ron made a face.

"Besides," said Hermione. "I'm not living in any bloody death trap."