Disclaimer- I own nothing, its all J.K Rowling's. So please don't sue me!
A/N- I know it is sort of fluffy and stuff, but I promise there IS a plot! Please be patient with me. I have this thing about expositions I guess. Read and enjoy. And PLEASE REVIEW!
Chapter 1:
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," came calls from all around the stylish, modern floor of office space, full of robe-clad people all vying for just one look from the most famous wizard in the world: Harry Potter.
Harry looked around and smiled at all of the friendly faces. He still couldn't get used to being called Mr. Potter all the time, since he was only twenty-one years old.
"Mr. Potter, the Minister would like to speak with you. She has called you to come immediately," Amelia Bones' secretary, Alexis Kwikwill said, walking by his side as he made his way to his office. Harry nodded.
"All right, Lex, tell her I'll be there in a minute. How's your sister? She finished her Healing courses at St. Mungo's yet?" Harry asked.
"Yes, although if you ask me it is pretty irresponsible of St. Mungos to train nitwits like her to fix people. If that girl were any slower she'd be going backward. Can't think on her feet, that's what." Alexis said distastefully. Harry knew how much she loved her sister, however much she complained about her. "Now you get in there. You know how Minister Bones gets." Harry kissed his friend on her cheek, drawing jealous stares from the young witches around the office, and stepped into the Minister of Magic's office.
"Yes, Minister Bones?" Harry said to the patient-faced, intelligent witch across the marble table.
"Harry," She said sternly, not even bothering to greet him, "You have to stop this. Do you really want to be thrown off England's Quidditch team? You don't just go and steal the other team's mascot! I know this is some sort of Muggle tradition, but to go and kidnap Ireland's leprechauns! I told you last year if you did this, I wouldn't cover for you again. What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"
Harry smiled at her, a heartrending, disarming smile that had melted the hearts of women around the wizarding world, the same smile that had won him the Witch Weekly's most charming smile award three times, much to his chagrin. He hated the thought of himself being a second Lockhart.
"Now, Amelia, we were just having some fun! Its my duty as the Captain of England's Quidditch team to keep their spirits high. We thought if was funny. It wasn't meant to be mean or anything. Anyway, I am having them delivered back to Ireland today." Harry said cheekily.
"Well, at least you got that cleared up by yourself. Never again, Harry, or I promise you your legendary Quidditch career will come to an end." She glowered. Then her eyes lightened and she smiled at him. "So what is this I heard about you throwing that prank at the annual Prophet's Ball? Some sort of firework, I understand." Her eyes twinkled. "Well," Harry replied, sitting down comfortably on one of the black felt chairs, "It was so stuffy. All those rich, famous, elitist people needed to be toned down a notch or two."
"As if you weren't the very richest and most famous of them all," The Minister said sarcastically. Harry laughed.
"At least I don't act like all those snobs. I took Lex with me. You should have seen the commotion it caused. No one there knew who she was. You should have heard the whispers. Who's that gorgeous woman on Harry Potter's arm? they all asked. It was great when they found out she was 'just the Minister's secretary'."
Amelia Bones' face softened. "It really was wonderful of you to take her. God knows that girl never has any fun, what with scrounging up enough Galleons to get her sister through her courses and trying to live through her parents' death."
"I was lucky. She's a beautiful woman. All of the men were drooling over her long black hair and big, dark blue eyes. She was the belle of the ball." Harry smiled. "Now, I really have to go. We have an emergency Quidditch practice- called by yours truly- to brush up before the World Cup on Monday. You are coming aren't you?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. But after the season's over, you come right back here to your office. The Auror department misses you during the season. Now go." Harry kissed her cheek and waved goodbye.
"What a boy," the Minister sighed proudly, and got back to the report on stolen magic carpets handed in by Percy Weasley, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic.
Harry Apparated to the Chudley Cannon's locker room, where he was immediately amongst thirteen orange-and black-robed figures.
"Hey," Harry said to everyone as he sat down next to his best friend. Ron turned to him.
"Hey mate!" Ron said, slapping Harry on the back, "Ready for practice? Gonna drill us hard today or what?"
"Well, I have a couple of surprises," Harry said mysteriously. Ron frowned.
"Like wha- OOF!" Ron said as he fell to the ground while trying to tie his shoes. He got up, his ears and face scarlet. The whole locker room erupted into laughter. Ron grinned foolishly.
"All right team, lets get out there! Start out with a couple laps around, then practice some of those dives and that formation I taught you. I have to go get something ready." Harry shoved a surprised team out of the room. Usually he drilled them so hard they could barely walk.
Harry ran out to the shed behind the locker rooms and muttered 'wingardium leviosa', levitating a large burlap sack onto the back of his broomstick- a Lightning VI model custom-made for the Chudley Cannon's team. He flew up to the goal posts and waited for the team to finish five minutes worth or lapping and diving before untying the bag.
Harry grinned wickedly. He let sixty water balloons loose, casting a charm on all of them to keep them flying in the air.
"All right team," He shouted, "Lets see how good you are- while being attacked by water balloons!"
Two hours later, fourteen very tired, very happy, very wet people trudged into the locker room.
"God, Harry," Ron said, "If we can't even play against water balloons, how are we going to play against real people?"
Harry glared at his best friend.
"Guys," He said in his pep-talk voice, "and girls," he added hastily at a look from Laura Swift, "Whose entire team has been selected to play for England in the World Cup Final for three years in a row?"
"The Cannon's!" They chorused.
"Who has the best Chasers in the league, according to the Quidditch Illustrated and Daily Prophet?
"WE do!" They shouted.
"Who has the two best Beaters in the game?"
"WE do!" They yelled.
"Whose Keeper has never let a single penalty shot get through?"
"The Cannons!" The team high-fived, their spirits uplifted. Harry grinned.
"Besides, Ireland isn't half as good as it used to be, now that Lynch retired. Those water balloons were better than half of their players!" Harry said. The team nodded.
"Well, now that the pep-talk is out of the way," Harry said, "We really have to win this Final. It'll be the first time England has won four years in a row. So keep practicing, but don't work yourselves too hard. I'll see you all Monday- at the game!" The team left the locker room, chattering to themselves. Ron headed towards Harry.
"Harry, mate, you have to come over to dinner tonight alright? Hermione misses you- you haven't see her for a week. She's going to order out- that poor girl still can't cook for her life." They laughed together. Cooking was one thing Hermione hadn't been able to learn from a book.
Ron and Hermione had gotten engaged during the last term of seventh year, a week before Harry had defeated Voldemort. They had gotten married the summer after, after Harry and Ron had been accepted to the Chudley Cannon's team. Hermione became the youngest witch to ever sit on the Wizengamot, and was the Head of the Department of Magical Research and Development. Ron and Harry, who played Quidditch during the spring and summer, were Aurors through the fall and winter.
Harry was the reason the Cannons were the best Quidditch team in the league internationally. He had started straight out of school- already and star and famous, all Quidditch enterprise offered him a spot on their team. In the end, Harry decided to remain with Ron. The first season had gone well- Oliver Wood had been Captain and Ron reserve Keeper, Harry as Seeker. But it was when Wood left and Harry became captain that the team took off.
The second year on the team, The Cannons never lost a single game; Harry always caught the Snitch. He was the youngest Seeker ever drafted, being only seventeen; he was the only Seeker to have never lost the Snitch to the opposing side; he was the youngest Captain ever named; he invented formations and plays and strategies that no one had ever dreamed of. Harry led the Cannon's to three consecutive victories in the World Cup. The fourth would be an international record.
Harry waved to Ron and Apparated to his apartment in London. After Sirius's bequest and the contents of his vault as well as the Potter Family Vault being turned over to him when he was of age, Harry had been left with a considerable amount of money- enough that he could live out his life never having to work, living in complete luxury. Not only did he have millions and millions of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, but he also owned various estates. It was his wealth that had put him at the very top of the social ladder- that, and the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived and the Boy-Who- Defeated-The-Dark-Lord. The London apartment was the only estate he ever occupied.
A big, roomy flat, with pure white walls, comfortable, modern, black leather sofas and armchairs, steel bookshelves and modern lighting, steel fixtures and minimalist furniture, the flat was the spitting image of a wealthy bachelor's pad. Harry liked the space, but he often felt lonely...as if the rooms needed to be filled with something other than rare black and white paintings and expensive rugs and furniture.
Quickly Harry showered and dressed in some khakis and a black dress shirt. He put on some Clarks and Apparated into Ron and Hermione's sitting room.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted, running to him and wrapping him in a suffocating hug.
"Hey Hermione," Harry said affectionately. He sniffed, "Something smells good around here. It can't be your cooking that means!"
Hermione whacked his arm. "Just because I don't cook," she said witheringly, "Doesn't mean I can't."
Harry hid a smile and sat down at the large wooden table. Ron and Hermione's flat was much more to his taste than his own- clean and neat (it was Hermione, after all), it was furnished with rich mahogany furniture. There were walls lined with books (again, Hermione), and decorated in rich white and deep blue tones.
Ron stumbled into the kitchen, flaming hair still wet from a shower. He sat down with Harry and Hermione put the ordered food on the table and plopped into a chair.
"So Harry," Hermione said, her face stern, "What's this I heard about you going to see the Minister today?"
Harry looked abashed. He didn't like admitting his little...misdemeanors to Hermione. "Well," He said hesitatingly, looking at Ron, who slashed a finger across his throat warningly, "She just...er...wanted to...er...thank me." Harry finished lamely.
"Thank you for what?" Hermione asked, shoveling some mince pie into her mouth.
"Er...just for...for taking Lex to the ball!" Harry said, pleased with his own quick thinking. Hermione noticed his guilty expression.
"Harry James Potter," She said exasperatedly, "I think, after being friends with you for eleven years, I would be able to tell when you're lying to me. Now tell me the truth."
Harry sighed and mumbled, "IkidnappedtheleperchaunsfromIrelandsteambutIalreadyavethembacksoitdoesn'tre allymatteranyway."
Hermione looked at him angrily. "Again?" She exclaimed. "Last year you took France's Faeries. The year before you actually took Egypt's Genies in their actual lamps. Now you take Ireland's leprechauns?"
"And you," She turned to Ron with a glint in her eye, "You were in on this, weren't you?
Ron looked to Harry pleadingly. Harry decided it was time to turn on the charm.
He flashed Hermione a charismatic I-Know-I-Was-Wrong-But-Aren't-I -Absolutely-Adorable smile. She stared at him for a moment, then laughed.
"All right, all right, I won't nag about it. Have some more pudding, Harry. How you manage to feed yourself, I'll never know."
"It isn't fair that he has a smile like that," Ron grumbled, "If I had I would have gotten away with so much more."
Harry just grinned cheekily at his friend, earning a carrot thrown at his ear. "Hey!" Harry said, "No fair!" At this he threw a piece of his treacle tart at Ron's face, and soon there was a full-fledged food fight going on. Hermione just sat there, looking resigned.
"When you two will grow up, I'll never know." She leaned back and threw the dishes into the sink, where they began to wash themselves.
The three friends moved into the living room, sitting down and assuming the comfortable positions they automatically took. Hermione sat down and took a book down from the bookshelf, while Ron lay back with his head in her lap, snoozing. Her hands caressed his hair as she read. Harry sat opposite them, eyes half-closed. He watched his two friends lovingly. Sometimes he was jealous of their relationship- the loving looks, the sweet gestures, the close intimacy. Harry wanted it- wanted it so much sometimes his heart ached.
Outside, Harry was a confident, handsome, charismatic man. But on the inside, he was still searching for a love that had eluded him. At one time...four years ago...Harry had thought that he would have that love. That the love he had craved his whole life would be satisfied with one woman. But that had shattered when she had left- and when she had left, she had torn his heart to shreds.
Why, Ginny, he thought for the thousandth time, why did you throw it all away?
