Oh, To Be Young, Broke, And Miserable

King's Café was a small, quaint muggle coffee shop that smelled just like home. Rather large and filled with couches where people could calmly have their coffee and enjoy their time with their friends, it became the group's hangout place since the moment Harry came across it three years ago while traversing Muggle London. Mostly made up of orange, brown, and green colours, it reminded them of their old Common Room at Gryffindor Tower where they spent most of their Hogwarts days. Especially today, with the Hogwarts Express gearing up to leave the station in just a few minutes, the memories were at the forefront of everyone's minds.

"I can't believe it's been six years already," Hermione pouted right beside him. The two of them had crammed themselves into the armchair to the right of the large couch like they often did. It wasn't that they wanted to be uncomfortable, but the chair was just so comfortable that it led to many childish battles between the two of them struggling for it and then refusing to give it up.

"Well, technically it only has been like five years and a few months," his mouth spoke for him, and Hermione turned to glare at him for daring to correct her. "But who's counting, am I right?"

"Oh, I'm so jealous of you, Neville," she continued, shaking her head and taking a sip of the tea in her mug. It was only Harry and Lavender who actually drank coffee at the coffee shop, leading to much mocking of their three other stubborn friends. "I wish I could go back to Hogwarts. I wish we all could."

Harry, Ron, and Lavender groaned.

"Of course, you'd be happy to force us back into that castle to suffer," Ron said. "OWLs and NEWTs and crazy women yelling at you for mistaking the Goblin Rebellion of 1862 with the one of 1763. And then there was the incident with the Goblin Rebellion of 1666." He shuddered at the memories.

"Those are all wildly different events, Ronald, and you know it!" Hermione said crossly. "Besides, there were no crazy women yelling at people."

"Sorry," Ron brought up his mug to his face to muffle his next words. "Woman, singular."

Harry laughed, the others as well, but only he was close enough for Hermione to slap him for his insolence. Putting his arm around her, he gave her a comforting squeeze and watched as the anger slowly evaporated behind her eyes.

"It's not like I'm going back to school, Hermione," Neville said gently. "Being Sprout's assistant isn't exactly a… dignifying job."

"What's dignifying about playing with dirt?" Ron asked.

"Oh, leave him alone," Lavender spoke up. "We all can't be famous, rich superstars for a living. Some of us have to actually have to suck it up and get our hands dirty to pay our rent."

"I happen to like Herbology," Neville muttered.

"I'm trying to help you out here, Nev." Lavender berated.

"At least some of us actually work for a living," Hermione turned her gaze at him, and Harry suddenly wished he had given up the armchair. He was trapped, forced to face Hermione's disapproval. "Are you actually going to start looking for a job at all this year?"

Harry scoffed, flustered. "Working is just so… unnecessary. Why would I go and do that?"

"To actually give your life purpose? To become independent of your parents and be an actual adult? To give something back to the community?"

"See, I just don't see a point to any of that."

"Harry!" Hermione once again slapped him on the shoulder. This woman abused him!

"Look, the Potter vault has hundreds of millions of galleons. I could buy everything I wanted for the next thousand years, and I'd still have enough money to survive. There's really no need for me to have a job. In fact, I'm making sure jobs are free for the people who actually need them. I'm giving the people jobs. I'm doing my part for the community!"

"But you didn't earn that money."

"Oi, growing up in a broken home was the work! You divorce your parents and see how much energy you have for work after that."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure being able to use it as an excuse to get anything you want must be heartbreaking." Ron sniggered.

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him. Harry sighed, resigned to the silent treatment he'd get for the next twenty minutes. Then a small smirk came to his face. "So at what time are we meeting are your place tonight, Lav?"

Hermione elbowed him, predictably mad that he had called it Lavender's place when it was actually their place. She really sucked at ignoring him, no matter how much she denied it.

"Umm…" Lavender fidgeted, and Neville narrowed his eyes at her. "I kind of have a date tonight."

The boys gasped, distraught at the betrayal.

"What happened to our tradition!" Ron exclaimed.

"You guys can still come and hang out while we get ready for the dates. I'll even buy the booze for you," she offered.

"Our dates?" Neville asked.

"Lavender!" Hermione admonished the blond girl.

"I didn't mean to," she cried. "They grilled it out of me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Let me get this straight," Harry spoke up. "You two are ditching us to go out on a double date, and you're only offering a little booze in return?"

"A lot of booze?" Lavender offered.

"How about foot rubs for life?"

"Mate, if we're going to ask for foot rubs we might as well get more ambitious," Ron smiled lasciviously at the girls."

"Ewww!" Hermione cried out.

"Pig," Lavender rolled her eyes.

"I can't believe you two are doing this," Harry continued. "We made a pact!"

"Yeah," Ron joined in. "You know how many dates I gave up for our stupid tradition? How many women ended up missing the greatest night of their life because of you?"

"I'm sure they managed," Hermione said dryly.

"It's not like we're the only ones who broke the pact," Lavender said. "Neville wouldn't have been able to come either way."

"Neville!" Ron snapped.

"Oi, don't look at me," Neville raised his arms. "I was going to be a tad late, but I wasn't going to miss it." He glowered at Hermione and Lavender. "Don't try to blame this on me."

"Fine, it's our fault. We're breaking the pact, alright? The guys asked us out, and they were too cute to say no."

"Who even asked you out?" Neville asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Kevin Entwhistle," Hermione said.

"Weird nose and Used-To-Pee-With-His-Pants-Down?" Harry snorted and the other two boys laughed.

"Ernie doesn't have a weird nose!" Lavender exclaimed.

"How did you know I was talking about Macmillan?" Harry asked innocently. "Or have you been following Mister Entwhistle to the loo?"

"Ignore them, Lavender," Hermione scoffed. "They are just jealous they can't get any dates."

"Oh, I can get dates Miss-I-Haven't-Had-Sex-In-Four-Months," Ron attacked. "It's those two morons that don't know how to deal with women."

"By my count, I've had three more girlfriends than you, Weasley," Neville said.

"Exactly," Ron snorted. "Girlfriends. Pffft. That's not how you treat a woman."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "And how exactly do you treat a woman?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He smirked

"I pity your future wife," Lavender told him.

"Hey, I can get girls!" Harry defended himself once he realised no one was going to step up for him.

"Of course, you can, buddy," Ron said earnestly before turning back to Lavender and shaking his head emphatically.

"You know what, no," Harry put his foot down. "I can get laid, I'll prove it. Tonight, you and I, we're going out to a pub, and we're going to pick ourselves some women."

"Hell yeah," Ron grinned, nodding his head.

"What about our tradition?" Lavender jumped in. "You guys will still come, right?"

"No!" Harry cried out. "You don't get to cancel on us and then ask us to come by. Not tonight of all nights. You know what, Ron? Let's go and leave these traitors to trait alone. I can't stand the sight of them!" With a lot of effort, Harry managed to grab onto the arm of the chair and pull himself up, immediately feeling the freedom of not having his limbs squished together.

"Yeah," Ron yelled out, standing up too and leaving his half-empty mug on the table in the middle. "Let's go."

"Wait," Neville called out. "So I'll see you guys later at the pub?"

"No," Harry and Ron snapped at the same time before Ron continued. "You broke the pact as well!"

"I was just going to be late." Neville defended himself.

"No excuses, Longbottom!'" Harry snapped pushing open the door to the coffee house and bristling out of there with Ron following behind him. Looking at the watch on his hand, he saw that it was still just shy of eleven in the morning. "So what do we do in the next ten hours?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged before a smile spread across his face. "Smash Brothers?"

"Oh, now you're just asking to be beat, Weasley!"


It was only his first day and it was already the worst. Nothing completely humiliating happened, it was just the Welcoming Feast. The students barely paid any attention to his introduction as Sprout's new assistant teacher, and he didn't spontaneously burst into flames when he stood up and bowed for the hollow applause he received. The other teachers all treated him politely, with small talk and wishes of good luck. But he was just too… young!

He was the youngest person in the faculty, with the one closest to him being slightly over forty years old. And if the nineteen years of difference weren't enough, Snape couldn't muster more than a glare at him, which Neville took as his own version of: 'Greetings and good luck to this boring new job!' He was already dreading the first few days, knowing he was going to spend most of his days grading assignments and preparing the Greenhouses for the classrooms rather than actually doing anything related to completing his mastery.

That stupid thing better be worth it if he was going to slave his nights for it while his friends went out to pubs and on dates with cute strangers. It's not that he wasn't excited to have it, he couldn't wait to actually go on research trips and push the branch of Herbology further. It's just that he hated the process of getting it.

Being sat between Sprout and Trelawney, Neville spent the entire Welcoming Feast switching between hearing Sprout droning on about all of his responsibilities as her assistant and having his hand felt up by Trelawney as she predicted the girl he loved would turn to another in her search for true love. Of course, Neville would have rather heard this prediction before Lisa Turnip left him for Eddie Carmichael three months ago, but he didn't tell her that. Eventually, though, Headmaster Dumbledore ended the feast and Neville immediately jumped to his feet.

In his mind, he was already sprinting towards his room, ready to use the floo and see if the girls were still in their flat when he heard Sprout's voice from behind him, and he was forced to return to the real world. "Oh, Neville. We're having a small faculty gathering in the staff room. We do these all the time after the Welcoming Feast. Would you like to join us?"

No, thank you very much, but no. He wanted to say. But he could see the olive branch to integrate him into the faculty and Neville knew he really couldn't say no to it.

They watched all the kids leave, making sure the prefects had led them all out of the Great Hall in an orderly fashion before they took their leave themselves. The walk towards the Faculty room wasn't long, and Neville wasn't surprised when Headmaster Dumbledore begged off for an early night. It was surprising as it is that the man was still teaching, he had to be over a hundred and fifty years old by now! Snape didn't announce he wasn't attending either, instead, he simply turned and went down the stairs towards the dungeons with only a sneer as a parting gesture.

McGonagall, or Minerva as she had forced him to call her earlier, opened the door and the teachers all flooded inside. "Filius, take out the firewhisky," she said, and Neville perked up. Could his night finally be looking up? Would he learn all the secrets he had missed out on about the teachers when he had just been a student? There was an air of excitement as everyone settled in, with Neville being forced to grab the last stool left - the old, battered one with one uneven leg. He was handed out a glass, filled with firewhisky, and as soon as he saw some of the other teachers had already started drinking he followed suit.

His legs began shaking, a smile spreading across his face.

"Rolanda, did you see young Mister Devlin?" Sprout asked beside him.

"Ugh, that brown smear under his nose?" She looked away in distaste. "I had hoped better for the boy, I didn't take him for the type to leave that poor excuse of a moustache out there for all to see."

"It's just a phase," Septima said. "He'll outgrow it."

"Hopefully quickly," Flitwick squeaked. "It really does not suit him."

As the teachers began going from student to student, criticizing whatever new trend or phase they had adopted over the summer, Neville realised his night wasn't going to be the exciting prospect he had imagined. He wouldn't get any inside information about the teachers he could share with his friends, instead, it was just boring gossip about the students. Students he didn't even know. Worse, his imagination began to wonder what the teachers had said about him when he was the shy, bumbling kid all those years ago. The thought made him pale. He thought about leaving but was too afraid to be the first one out those doors, especially so early in the night.

Gripping his glass, he sighed and drank a little bit more. This was going to be a long night.


Hermione fidgeted nervously beside Lavender. First dates always put her on edge, the weird butterflies in her stomach firing up making her all high-strung and agitated. She focused on the nice restaurant the boys had chosen, the shining, well-cleaned silverware, the unintelligible voices of the people around them. Anything other than how she was feeling.

"Hermione, calm down," Lavender urged, placing a hand on her knee and forcing it to stop moving.

"I am calm," she answered primly.

"You're neurotic. Even by Hermione standards."

She gasped. "I am not!"

Alright, maybe she wasn't as calm as she pretended to be. Her love life had been a disaster since before she even started it. It wasn't her fault that she seemed to have an invisible magnet above her head that attracted the worst possible type of guys. If she was lucky, they were dumb or stared at her breasts all night. If she wasn't, then things would go well for a while before she realised just how narcissistic, self-centred, and just flat-out rude they really were behind the charming mask. After the horrible affair she had with Theo Nott a couple of years ago, she had promised herself she wouldn't date anyone she knew from her Hogwarts years.

And yet, here she was, waiting for two of the Ravenclaw boys in her year. The things Lavender could get her to do. She was beginning to regret breaking her rule, but Lavender convinced her - or at least forced her to agree - that it was just the boy's comments getting to her head. She was right, wasn't she? Maybe there was still time to leave.

The sudden arrival of the two boys quickly shut down that idea, and Hermione smiled nervously as they went around the table and kissed the two of them on the cheek. She began to relax as she realised it was really just the boy's comments that had put her on edge. Kevin was handsome, with a sharp jaw, gorgeous blue eyes, and broad shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but think he'd filled out nicely since she had last seen him at Hogwarts. He wasn't mindlessly ogling her breasts, instead, he was giving her a warm, confident smile.

Maybe this was going to be a good night after all.


This was a horrible night.

Well, maybe not horrible, but definitely not what he wanted out of tonight. Right now, he was supposed to be at the pub, a beautiful woman on his arm and a smug smile knowing he'd bested his stupid friends. Instead, he was sitting on his barcalounger. Fingers orange and greasy from the cheese puff chips he had finished, beer bottles all around him. Usually, a night in didn't make him feel so pathetic. He was always happy when he played video games with Ron or had a movie night with the gang. But tonight, the whole flat stunk of cheese and defeat.

He should have just accepted Lavender's booze.

There were a few grunts and moans that took him out of the game for a second, enough for Kirby to launch him off the screen and take his last life, before the door to the flat suddenly opened and Ron barged in, walking backward, still kissing the gorgeous girl on his arms. She wasn't the one he had started the night with, he must have got bored by her.

"As entertaining as this is, I already bought my porn for the week," Harry said loudly, earning their attention as Ron reluctantly broke the kiss. At least he had the decency of looking sheepish.

"Oh, there you are, mate! I lost you back at the pub."

"I was not hiding inside her throat if that was where you were looking," he smiled tightly, and the girl laughed lightly before turning to Ron and giving him another heated kiss.

"Wait for you in the bedroom?" She asked sultrily, and Ron gave a goofy grin.

"It's the one to the left," he whispered, giving her another kiss before pushing her forward.

Barely giving him a half glance, the girl walked across the room and entered Ron's room. It was a small flat, tiny considering that he was the heir to a massive fortune and Ron a famous Quidditch player. But it was in a great spot in London, it was a muggle flat, which meant Ron wouldn't get constantly ambushed by fans, and it was all they really needed. While far from being the height of luxury, it made them feel like they were back at Hogwarts inside the Gryffindor dormitory. Cramped but comfy, and Harry couldn't ask for more. They had even asked Neville to move in with him for old time's sake, but he firmly refused. Something about them being horrible roommates or whatever.

Still… It didn't happen often, but on nights like this Harry wondered if the camaraderie and fun the two of them had at the flat was really worth these nights when Ron would bring in his new conquest. The walls weren't exactly made of steel, and it was hard to fall asleep with a girl moaning out Ron's name like he was killing her slowly.

"You disappeared on me," Ron said, slightly miffed. "What was that all about."

"I was feeling sick," Harry shrugged, then raised the controller in his hand. "Besides, I needed the practice."

Ron grinned smugly. "Damn right, you do!" He looked at the closed door to his room and then back at Harry. "I'm going to… is that okay?"

"Ron just go," Harry laughed, chucking one of his cheese puffs at his friend. Ron's grin broadened, and he immediately ran towards his room."Try to not wake the neighbours up," Harry tried to say, but the words fell on deaf ears.

One of these days, Ron was going to get them evicted.

It didn't take long for the moaning to start. The walls were useless at muffling the obscene sounds coming from the room. But Harry was a grown-up, he'd dealt with many nights like this. He could handle it. He started a new game, raising the volume slightly as the girl began getting more and more vocal. Then Ron began saying things that would have traumatised Harry a few years ago. It only took twenty minutes before they started actually having sex, all sense of decorum thrown out the window as the girl began screaming and Ron egged her on.

Yes, that abandoned manor his father had offered him a few years ago didn't sound as bad tonight.


Lavender had to admit, the night could have gone better. Still, she always tried to see the bright side of things.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Lavender tried weakly, rushing up the stairs behind her best friend.

"That bad? Lavender! Why I let you convince me to go on a date with that… that… ugh." Hermione turned around wildly, the slutty, red dress she had lent her billowing. "He's a… a…"

"Alright, maybe he wasn't the best guy-"

"Maybe?"

"Alright, so he talked too much. So he said some… stupid things about house-elves. Does it really matter?" Hermione glared at Lavender with the hatred of a thousand condemned souls. "Hermione, he was still hot. Maybe he wasn't the one for life, but I wouldn't have minded riding that a couple of times before letting it go."

"Lavender, I'm twenty-four in three weeks. I don't want to… to… ride anyone just because anymore. By now, I was already supposed to have a boyfriend - an actual attentive, caring, drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend who I could see myself spending the rest of my life with. Instead, I'm out here going out on dates with Used-To-Pee-With-His-Pants-Down or Sir FartsALot or Fucking Theodore Nott of all people."

"Hey, at least you didn't get Weird Nose," Lavender tried to make her smile, but Hermione just sighed.

"Before I know it, I'll be thirty-seven, living with thirteen cats, all alone and miserable and wondering what I did wrong."

"You won't, alright," Lavender said said earnestly. "The right guy is just around the corner. You'll see. So what if you occasionally have these bad dates? It'll all be worth it when you find the one, won't it?"

Hermione didn't look convinced, turning away from her as she walked down the hallway. "My whole life has just been one long, horrible date. I don't know, Lav… I think I'm just going to give up on dating for a while."

"What?" She exclaimed, hurrying ahead and stopping her friend right as she was about to enter their flat. "No, you can't just give up on dating like that."

"I'm just so sick and tired of it all," Hermione said dejectedly. "Wasting my weekends going out on dates like these, continuing to fall for the wrong guys, or just having a horrible night. Maybe it's just not for me, you know?"

"Look, Hermione, the right guy is out there for you, I promise. But if you give up on dating or even just trying to look and find him, you could end up missing him."

"I just don't know what to do, okay?" Hermione shrugged. "Look. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe I've just had enough. I don't know. Can't we just talk about this tomorrow? I really want to go to sleep."

"Alright," Lavender conceded. "But this conversation isn't over. You're not getting away from me that easy, Missy."

"I know, I know…" Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped the doorknob. There was a small clicking sound before Hermione reached out and pushed the door open, turning on the lights as they entered the flat. Still spotless and undisrupted, the only surprise being Harry sitting in the kitchen, leaning over a plate full of Lavender's left-over pasta with a couple of empty bottles of beer around him.

He noticed them as they arrived, his eyes immediately going to Hermione as his face suddenly lost all the tightness it had just held.

"Why do we even lock our door?" Lavender shook her head, going over to Harry and squeezing his shoulder lightly before moving over to the couch where she began to take off her heels, moaning slightly as the pain on her feet began ebbing away.

Behind her, Harry pushed his chair back and moaned miserably. "I'm going to die alone!"

"Amen to that!" Hermione pointed at him before she collapsed on the chair beside him.

Harry turned to Hermione, offended.

"Amen to me dying alone?"

"Amen to us dying alone," she clarified.

"Amen to that," Harry cheered, lifting one of the empty beer bottles and trying to take a gulp of it.

"You two are depressing," Lavender groaned.

"When you reach our age, Lavender, you'll understand," Harry said solemnly.

"I'm older than you!"

"By a few months," he said defensively. "We're basically the same."

Lavender rolled her eyes, gently rubbing her feet as she tried to ignore yet another one of Harry's immature, stupid jokes. Neither of them had had a fantastic night, and while that often left normal people like her and Hermione wanting to just go to bed and not deal with anyone until the next day, it often made Harry more talkative and annoying than he usually was. Still, even as she pushed away her thoughts of Harry her mind kept racing at Hermione's words from earlier.

Hermione had always had a perfect picture of how her life was supposed to turn out. Lavender was sure she had planned it all out before she could even talk. And while not as boy-crazy as she was, Hermione had never faltered in her dreams of finding the right guy and starting a family. She had always wanted a partner. Had always wanted to be a mother. And seeing Hermione start considering just giving up on that, even if it was just for a little while, made Lavender queasy. It didn't feel like she was giving up on dating but on love as a whole. Giving up on the perfect life she had always gushed about since they became close.

Lavender turned towards Hermione and saw just how depressed she looked. She had her head buried under her arms, spread across the table, managing only a few groans and moans in response to whatever Harry was whispering into her ear. And at that moment, Lavender knew she couldn't stand seeing her like this for the rest of her life. She would see that Hermione found the love of her life. She would find it for her and force them together if she had to.