Dean and Ginny were asleep on the sitting room sofa when Harry got back to the flat. He stumbled out of the fireplace with a satchel full of recharged laptop batteries and crept to his room so as not to wake them. He feared he reeked of bog-sex and he wasn't yet ready to explain himself to his business partner and his ex-girlfriend.
The next morning he and Dean hit a home decor shop and picked up a large mirror. They managed to get it most of the way into the trunk of a taxi and brought it back to the house. Hanging it in the foyer was a bit challenging but in the end it looked perfectly passable and quite appropriate for the lofty, chandelier lit space.
"I'll take this weekend's lot if you do next week's," Dean said as he cruised through the kitchen to check the restocked pantry.
"What's included for next week?"
"Everything," Dean withdrew his mobile and checked the text file he used to track reservations on the go. "Shops, Parliament, football, dining, DIY, museums."
"How many days?"
"Five," Seamus raised an eyebrow. "They want to fit a lot in."
Harry gave Dean a disgusted look. "I did the camping trip. You're taking an easy 3-dayer and then sticking me with a 5-dayer."
"It just worked out that way," Dean raised his hands innocently. Harry grumbled but didn't argue. For some reason it seemed like it always worked out that way.
The weekend guests showed up early on Thursday, while Harry was out front Scourgifying bird droppings from the front step of the shop. They were located between an owl healer and a milliner that sold extravagant pointed hats and enchanted bonnets. P&T Muggle Adventures occupied a long shotgun style unit that could practically be spanned with arms outstretched. It was easy to miss if one wasn't paying attention, partly because the shops on either side employed much larger shingles that obscured their signage. It wasn't much, but it was all they could afford on their savings until business picked up.
Harry's dream was to earn enough income to acquire the space next door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They would get great foot traffic, and wizards returning from a magic-free trip would gravitate towards the spectacular wonders of George's shop. And it would keep him close to the goings on of the Weasley family, who tended to pass through frequently to visit their successful kin.
He knew their guests before they spoke, five posh witches, maybe a few years older than him. They were wearing the exquisite and garish robes that only the very wealthy bothered to afford, and each was prettier than the last. Suddenly Harry knew why Dean had volunteered for this trip. He didn't know whether to be more annoyed that Dean, who had no knowledge of his sexual preferences, had taken this job without a second thought, or that he was doing so while Ginny would be waiting faithfully at home.
"Pardon me," one of the girls raised her eyebrow pompously. "Is this P&T Muggle Adventures?"
"Yes it is," Harry pointed up at the sign above his head and smiled lopsidedly.
The girl glanced up and harrumphed. One of her friends, a sweet thing with honey blond hair, squinted at Harry and tapped her lips with her index finger. "I know you," she said.
Here it comes, Harry thought.
"Oh Merlin, you're Harry Potter!" a devilishly gorgeous girl with raven black hair exclaimed from the back of the group. "Show us your scar!"
Harry sheepishly pushed his hair back and revealed the lightning shaped mark. He had to show it every time he was recognized, which was virtually every time he went out. He often wondered if he should just shave his head so it would be on display at all times.
"I read you missed the deadline to sign up for Auror training," the first girl said with the sparkle of celebrity in her eye.
"The Daily Prophet is doing a series on your career options," the honey blond girl said.
"Have any of the articles mentioned running my own leisure business as an option?" Harry asked, trying to keep the sharp edge out of his voice.
"No," the five girls said in unison.
"You're the P in P&T!" the first girl said as though it were an epiphany. "You should put your whole name on the sign! You'd bring in so much business!"
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry smiled mildly as he opened the door to allow them to enter.
"Are you coming with us?" the black haired girl asked hopefully.
"You will be traveling with my partner, Dean Thomas," Harry gestured over their heads to his friend, who was sitting behind the laptop, probably for show.
"Oh he's a handsome one, too," the first girl said.
Harry closed the door behind them and stowed his wand. The sidewalk was clear enough and he wanted to get away from their fawning guests. He wandered down the road, weaving between shoppers and wondering if he shouldn't have brought along a handful of glossy brochures to hand out as he walked.
Without thinking he stopped off at George's shop and went inside to see if Ron was about. He was, looking miserable as an angry mother demanded a refund for a trick that had left multicolored blotches on her four children's faces.
"They're supposed to be identical!" she shrieked. "Identical quadruplets! Do you know how rare that is? And now look at them, perfectly distinguishable, every one of them!"
"Madam, I assure you the effects will wear off in a day or so," Ron held up his hands appeasingly. He caught sight of Harry and his eyes bugged out in a desperate plea for help. "Look!" he called. "It's Harry Potter! The Boy who Lived!"
The mother and her four children whirled around and squealed in delight at the sight of him. They rushed him as a pack and begged for autographs. One of the children darted outside and returned with a stack of Daily Prophets that bore his photo on the front page. They crammed the papers into his hands and asked him to sign one for each of them.
Harry looked down at the paper in his hands, flinching as the photo of himself smiled back and cocked his head in a friendly manner. It must have been lifted from a school photo, because he certainly hadn't posed for the Daily Prophet. The headline read, "Harry Potter's Future: Part Four." He stifled a groan. How many parts could they squeeze out of this non-story?
He made small talk with the woman and her children and obediently signed the papers. Anger forgotten, they shuffled out of the shop with their autographs clutched tightly to their chests. Harry glared daggers at Ron.
"I'm sorry, mate," Ron laughed apologetically. "But I really needed a distraction."
"What are you doing here today?" Harry leaned on the counter and poked through a jar of charmed doodads.
"George had a toothache and had to go to the healer," Ron shrugged. "Classes don't start for two weeks so I offered to cover."
"Are you coming to the Cauldron tomorrow?"
"Always do," Ron paused to ring up a customer. "Will you be in town or will you be out on another trip?"
"I'm free this weekend, out the next," Harry sighed. "There's one going out today but Dean offered to take it," he rolled his eyes, remembering his annoyance. "It's a group of five girls. Very talented, if you know what I mean."
Ron bid his customer farewell and looked confused. "What do you care about the talent?"
"He didn't even offer it to me."
"So?" Ron was still confused. "You're not into girls anyway."
"But he doesn't know that!" Harry exclaimed, finally saying aloud the irritating thought that had bothered him earlier. "As far as he knows, I would love to take that trip. And besides, what would your sister say?"
"She knows he's loyal," Ron said dismissively. "Dean is the most honest, honorable guy from our class. He's not going to do anything, talent or not."
"He still should have offered," Harry muttered.
He hung around for a couple of hours, helping out here and there as he could. Hermione showed up around supper time to collect her boyfriend for the night. She hugged Harry tightly and was as unruffled by the news of Dean's outing as Ron was. They walked him back to the shop and he realized belatedly that he should have probably manned the desk after Dean's departure. An abandoned storefront wasn't much good for growing business.
Between outings Harry usually had too much time on his hands, which he didn't tend to use well. He wandered around a lot. He visited his friends and more often than not interrupted them at their places of employment when they didn't have time to talk. He cleaned a lot, he cooked a lot, he played a lot of solitaire on the office laptop, and sometimes he popped over to The Magic Hat because what else was he to do with his nights?
But on Friday, as he did every Friday, he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron like he was drawn by a magnet. He was first one there, and he made sure to secure the large table in the corner that would seat however many friends chose to show up. He nursed his first pint, knowing it would be a long night of drinking and it was no fun to be the first one pissed.
Seamus showed up next, a huge smile splitting his face as he flopped down into a chair with a drink in hand. He had procured a job at Nimbus, learning the craft of building world-class broomsticks for leisure and sport. The job required strength as well as skill and he had put on a lot of muscle since graduation. If he drank enough he was likely to end the evening by hoisting his female friends up into the air to show off his strength.
Luna arrived next, as willowy and blissful as ever. As anyone could have predicted she spent her days traveling about the countryside, hunting elusive mythical creatures and writing for the Quibbler. Harry wasn't sure how she made a living, though. He couldn't imagine circulation was large enough to pay the bills. But as with anything in Luna's life, it all somehow came together. He'd always been envious of her ability to just let things happen. He couldn't let things happen. He always had to be in the midst of it, taking action. Not always for the best.
Ginny arrived without Dean, of course, and Harry fretted about his tendency to speak without thinking, and wondered whether he was at risk for blurting out his concerns about Dean and the five lovely witches he was currently shacked up with in London.
Shacked up was probably not the nicest way to say it.
Ginny had come straight from practice and was still wearing her Quidditch gear. Privately Harry believed she wore her full kit to the pub because it drew stares and gave her a chance to proudly show off her team's colours. It didn't annoy him, but he thought she should at least be honest about her intentions.
Neville came in with Ron and Hermione, having traveled together from Hogwarts. All three had taken apprenticeships at their alma mater and were in the process of attaining graduate levels so they could teach. They were in the final two weeks of mad preparation for the new school year. Harry had already taken to saying, "Professor Weasley" just to ruffle Ron's feathers. And if things between Ron and Hermione continued the way they were heading, he'd soon be able to call both of them Professor Weasley.
The Daily Prophet was up for discussion straight away, having just published their latest installment on the potential future for one Harry Potter, defeater of Dark Lords and bachelor extraordinaire.
"It's absolutely daft!" Ginny laughed hysterically, running her finger down the list of names the gossip column had identified for potential mates. "There's no rhyme or reason to their selections."
"I suspect they took money under the table from parents who wanted their daughters to appear in the list," Hermione leaned over and peered at the names. "Maybe they think he'll read it and get ideas."
"Stop," Harry moaned, his head buried in his arms. "It's agony."
"Come on, Harry," Seamus elbowed him sharply in the ribs, making him jump back in his seat. "You won't be famous forever. Enjoy it now, because someday no one will care anymore and you'll pine for the days when you couldn't visit the loo without making the front page."
"But why can't they print something that's true?" Harry wailed. "Doesn't anyone care what I'm really doing with my life? We could use the free advertising."
"Why don't you sell them an exclusive interview?" Luna asked, the only experienced journalist of the bunch.
"Because I don't have anything to say," Harry said honestly. "I would only talk about P&T, and they'd want more than that."
"Tell us, Harry," Seamus leaned over with a playful interviewer voice. "Who are you shagging these days? Any muggle ladies you'd like to mention? What exactly do you do in your spare time?"
"See, how would they get an article out of that?" Harry asked. "I don't do much. I do outings and I come home."
"And that's why they make up rubbish," Ron pointed out.
Harry congratulated himself on dodging the shagging question. He had only recently told Ron and Hermione about Colin, but he'd made it out to sound a lot better than it was. He didn't think they would approve of him moping about a muggle pub, waiting for the object of his affection to decide whether to take him or someone else home. It was degrading, more than he wanted to admit to himself, and certainly more than he would ever admit to them.
It wasn't a late one this week, in fact Luna, Neville and Ginny all rose at the same time to leave, which essentially cut the night short for everyone. They stumbled together out into the night air, pleasantly intoxicated and filled with the warmth of friendship. They hugged in a jumble of pairings until everyone was sure to have hugged everyone else at least once.
"I won't be here next week," Harry remembered to mention. "We've got our biggest reservation yet. Five days, four nights."
"That's wonderful, Harry," Hermione beamed proudly at him. "I knew you and Dean would make a success of this."
"Hold that thought until I get back," Harry said. "I've never had to do customer service for that long. I might bugger it all up."
The group shouted him down in a jumble of waved hands and dismissive snorts, giving him the kind of support and encouragement in the form of insults that can only come from true friends. He hoped their faith wasn't misplaced. He was nervous about the upcoming trip, and hoped he could provide the kind of experience he and Dean had envisioned. He'd had one too many frustrating outings and felt like he stood at a crossroads. If this one didn't go well, he might consider buying his way out of the business and leaving the leisure industry for good. But if it was successful, if he came out of it feeling like he'd done a good job and that his guests had enjoyed themselves, then maybe he could finally let his guard down and enjoy the direction he'd chosen for his future.
He was in the office playing solitaire on the laptop on Saturday morning when Dean and his five guests appeared through the Floo. Harry quickly minimized his program and called up a spreadsheet, although honestly the girls knew nothing of computers and probably wouldn't have known the difference.
"Harry Potter!" they squealed in unison, and each demanded a hug.
They were dressed in muggle attire, t-shirts bearing raucous slogans, blue jeans and miniskirts. They wore sneakers and platform shoes and sunglasses and plastic bangle bracelets. They were not what anyone on the outside would call fashionable, but they probably got fewer strange looks than they would have gotten in their elaborate robes.
"Did you have fun?" Harry couldn't help grinning at their delighted faces. He wished any of his outings had resulted in such joy. If he could elicit smiles like that he would feel like the effort was worth it.
"Dean was a sweetheart!" one of the girls exclaimed. "We had such a good time!" The other girls agreed enthusiastically.
"Would you mind letting us quote you on that in our brochure?" Dean asked.
"And tell your friends," Harry added.
"You should really put your name on the sign, Harry," the black haired girl said as though they had been friends for years. "People would pay extra if they knew they could go with you."
"Come on, now," Dean looked insulted.
"Aw Deanie!" the honey blond girl hugged him around the waist. "You're adorable but Harry is famous. People would pay more for a famous guide."
"I'm not putting my name on the sign," Harry blushed and shook his head. "That's the last thing I need."
The girls jostled around and hefted their luggage and newly purchased muggle goods until Harry and Dean levitated it all in a line and helped them navigate out onto the street.
"See? This is why I couldn't live there," one of the girls said. "Fun to visit, but who wants to carry bags?"
"Tell your friends," Harry called again as they set off down the road with wands in hand and luggage in tow.
"Maybe we should put your name on the sign," Dean said thoughtfully.
"No," Harry said warningly. "I already told you no."
"All right, all right," Dean sighed and waved Harry back inside. His dark skin looked sallow from fatigue and his clothes were rumpled. "I'm beat. They stayed up late watching telly every night," he said. "And then it was shopping all day."
"Did you keep your hands to yourself?" Harry asked indelicately, still defensive of Ginny's honor.
"Of course I did," Dean looked insulted again.
"Did you?"
"Yes, Harry," Dean bristled. "Don't ask again. I love Ginny, and this is business."
"Damn straight," Harry nodded firmly. "See that it stays that way."
"You need to find someone for yourself, mate," Dean rolled his eyes. "Then you can worry more about your own relationship than mine."
Harry didn't disagree.