By the time they'd gotten back to Hermione's room, Harry's arms were numb. The bag handles cut into his circulation and it was with great relief that he set them down on one of her sofas. Hermione seemed to have forgotten that she had even bought the items within the bags, for she was ignoring them entirely.

Instead she was looking through the scattered movies Harry had noticed earlier. She turned casually towards Harry and said, "I'd like some popcorn and a cola please. And take tray with you when you go."

Harry nodded and picked up the tray left over from her lunch. He was slightly surprised that Hermione had said 'please'. It was a new occurrence. "Do you want me to pick you up dinner as well?"

"Another wrap, please," Hermione replied absently, rummaging through her movie collection.

Harry nodded and left for the hotel kitchen. While he was waiting for the order, he glanced at the wall clock and his eyes widened. It was 4:45 already! If he didn't hurry home, the Dursleys' dinner would be late; and on Dudley's homecoming night, such negligence wouldn't be easily forgiven.

He ran back with the food to Hermione's room, depositing it quickly on the coffee table. "Sorry, I've go to go now or else my Uncle will kill me," he explained hastily. "It was nice to meet you and good bye."

Hermione looked a little bemused as Harry ran through the door. "See you tomorrow, Weasley." Harry didn't hear her.

He was already gone.

XXX

Luckily, the Dursleys had stayed in London all day, treating Dudley to a shopping spree so that their darling Dudders would have some new computer games to play that summer – not to mention a new gaming system and a big-screen television for his room to replace the older, smaller one; and the latest action movies as well. They wanted their precious boy to be able to relax, Petunia cooed.

They got home at 6:15 as the steaks were nicely browning, the potatoes already mashed and put in the oven so that they'd have a crust, and the pudding setting in the icebox. Harry was also baking a chocolate fudge cake, knowing how Dudley liked his desserts. He was just finishing the icing to coat the cake with when they came through the door, loud and obnoxious.

Petunia tore herself away from her 'Duddiekins' long enough to inspect the food and nod grudgingly. She knew her husband and son's tastes quite well too, and knew Harry had chosen the favourite of both. She brusquely ordered him to make a salad for her – a good wife ought to watch her figure, and she wouldn't want Dudley to be embarrassed by a fat mother – and rejoined her loving family in the den. Harry scowled and set the table.

He wasn't allowed to eat with them, of course; that had stopped the year he turned eleven, when Dudley had claimed his stink was offensive at the table. Petunia had banished him to the kitchen during mealtimes even during Dudley's school year, when it was just him and her most nights as Vernon worked late. He drank glass after glass of water in hope of numbing the distant bite of hunger in his stomach. It was because he had eaten that morning; big meals at the start of the day left him feeling particularly empty by the time dinner rolled around, and the smells coming from the dining room didn't help at all.

Harry waited until the desserts had been eaten before he broached the subject of his job with Vernon. Vernon had to be put in a jovial mood before being approached; Harry had to make his job sound like a good idea.

He exited the kitchen and waited for a lull in the conversation. It came soon enough.

Harry said, "Uncle Vernon? I've, er, found a job today."

Vernon turned from his son to glance at Harry coldly. "Oh?"

"It's, um," Harry stuttered, "not a very big job… but it'll help me to get experience and references for later, and it'll get me out of your way at home, and-"

"How much does it pay?"

The interruption had come from Dudley, who was leaning forward with an intent look in his piggish eyes. He had the remnants of his dessert smeared over his face, and was reaching for another slice of the cake when he'd spoken up.

"Er…" Harry froze up. Something told him not to tell the truth, so he didn't. "Forty pounds every two weeks. I told you, it's a very small job."

Dudley turned to his father. "Let him have this job," Dudley whined, "and make him give me the money. That way he won't waste it."

Harry barely stopped himself from scowling furiously at his cousin, and angrily thought, 'No, I won't waste it – you will!' He was very glad that he hadn't told the truth now, for Vernon was nodding.

"An excellent idea, son," he approved.

They all went back to ignoring Harry and he cleared the table with relief. They weren't going to make him quit! He would be free of them – gloriously free! – all summer!