Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Thanks to Nerox and silentclock for looking over the story, offering their suggestions and pointing out my mistakes. I suggest you go and read silentclock's oneshot – Outside These Walls, after you read this. It's brilliant. One of the best oneshots I've read in a while.
This is more of a set-up chapter. It wasn't meant to be, but it got way too long and I had to split it up. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think, good or bad.
Chapter Five
"To everyone who tuned their Wireless last night for our on-the-hour wake-up call, a very good morning to you!"
Harry's eyes shot open, breathing heavily after being forced awake by the chirpy voice blaring out of his Wireless.
"It's hot, it's bright, and summer is still here!" The man's voice had the unique quality of causing anyone who heard it to want to smack him right on the nose. "And now something that'll take all of us oldies back to our youth, this'll rekindle old memories of those special summer romances for you. It's Love Me Gently, by The Unicorns."
Harry smacked the off button far harder than he meant to. The sudden jolt of pain that ran through his little finger had him staring wide-eyed into space, his teeth clenching, and his heart still pounding from the wake-up call.
To top it all off, he had a hangover.
To make a bad start to the morning even worse, Sirius's voice could be heard drifting down the stairs "… Love me gently, baby, our summertime has come."
Harry wearily rubbed his forehead, glaring daggers at his door. He trudged off to the shower a few minutes later, absent-mindedly humming Love Me Gently, much to his disgust.
It had been two months since Harry had finished Hogwarts, and he'd suddenly found he had a lot of time on his hands. He hadn't quite realised how much work he'd been doing beforehand, and he knew that come the end of August he'd be back to hard work of a completely different nature. The Quidditch season lasted for months with hardly any days off in-between games.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. He paused under the running water. Barely twenty seconds later, the doorbell rang three times in quick succession, echoing around the house.
Harry barely sighed as he switched off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.
Four loud knocks came after another two minutes, in which time Harry had managed to throw some jeans on and make it to the landing.
"Oi! Hurry up and answer the door, will you!"
Harry hurried down the two flights of stairs and skidded to a stop on the newly-laid wooden flooring. He pulled the door open, greeted by a face that usually made him smile.
"Finally!" Tonks said, pushing past Harry and throwing her suitcase off to the side of the hallway.
Harry quietly shut the door behind her, noticing her hair was a dark red. "You're a bit early, aren't you?"
Tonks frowned. "I thought we had to meet here at eleven?"
Harry groaned as he led the way down to the kitchen, draping the towel over his neck. "It's barely nine, Tonks. Not even Remus is awake yet."
"Oh," Tonks said with a hint of surprise in her voice. "Sorry, I've been working the early shifts all week. I was asleep by eight last night."
"What time did you set your bloody alarm?" Harry asked, filling a pot with water.
"Six," Tonks said simply, pulling out a chair.
"Why?" Harry asked, aghast, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. "Do you want a coffee?"
"I'd love one, and because I needed a few hours to get ready," Tonks said.
Harry shook his head, feeling his headache throb a little harder. "Tonks," he said slowly, "you don't need to take a couple of hours to get ready. All you have to do is look in the mirror, perform your little magic trick, and you're instantly beautiful."
Tonks' forehead creased as she sipped the cup of coffee Harry handed her. "I suppose, but it feels a little like cheating."
"You're only using what you have," Harry said reasonably, once again reminded of the fact that her one talent was something most people would pay enormous amounts to attain. It would certainly help in a Quidditch match, where size could determine the outcome of a number of scenarios.
"Are you trying to say I'm not pretty enough without using my abilities?" Tonks asked, narrowing her eyes as she waited for an answer.
"Everyone has different tastes," Harry said delicately, deflecting the question like any intelligent man would do. "You don't have to apply anything. It's all there for you, ready to be used."
Tonks hummed into her coffee. "Remind me to show you what else I can do sometime, Potter."
"I'm looking forward to it."
Remus stumbled through the door minutes later, holding his head. His hair was sticking up at all angles and his shirt was creased. He muttered something under his breath as he crossed the room, before he dropped into a chair next to Harry.
"What the hell did you guys get up to you last night?" Tonks asked, staring at Remus, her nose crinkled at the smell of stale beer he was emitting.
"Don't ask," Remus said with a groan.
"We had a bit of a late one," Harry admitted, filling a cup for Remus and sliding it over the table, leaving a wet trail on the wooden surface.
Remus grunted his thanks.
"Who else was here?" Tonks asked.
"The guys," Harry said simply.
Tonks nodded, looking a little frustrated. "I gathered that. What persuaded you to get into such a state?"
"I can't really remember," Harry said, trying to cast his mind back to the night before. "I think it was Seamus who brought the poker chips with him."
"So you guys played poker and got blitzed?" Tonks asked for clarification.
"Pretty much." Harry shrugged.
"Idiots, the lot of you." Tonks rolled her eyes, turning to look as the kitchen door was opened again.
Seamus paused on his way into the room, raising an eyebrow under Tonks' scrutiny. "What?"
"How come you don't look like him?" Tonks said, nodding towards Remus.
"Because even if I had your talent, he's not someone I'd model myself after?" Seamus said slowly.
Harry couldn't help chuckling. "Bad joke, Finnigan. I'll be surprised if you manage to top that one today."
Seamus smiled as took a seat, leaning back and interlocking his fingers behind his head. "I'm surprised you don't look as bad as he does, Potter."
"I explain this every time I get drunk," Remus said, sipping his coffee. "Something about my condition gives me the worst hangovers imaginable."
"Bugger off," Seamus said with a slight cackle. "You just can't handle it anymore, old man."
"Listen, you little shit, just because I wasn't brought up on whiskey instead of milk-"
"Really, Mooney?" Tonks said critically. "Bringing out the bad Irish jokes?"
Harry snorted. "The only way you know he's Irish is because his name's Seamus. When he talks he sure as hell doesn't sound it."
Seamus scowled.
"What is your secret?" Tonks asked pointedly, nudging Seamus in the ribs with her elbow.
"I'm Irish," Seamus said simply.
"You're not one to talk anyway, Tonks," Harry said. "Didn't you get suspended a few years ago for turning up to work stinking of booze?"
Tonks blushed faintly. "I don't care about you lot having a piss-up, but you knew we were travelling today."
Harry hummed in reply, shrugging it away, mostly because she was right.
"Your sun-kissed skin had me dreaming of long nights under the stars…"
Everyone in the kitchen looked up at the ceiling, to where the song was being played through someone's Wireless.
"Hey, I recognise that song," Tonks said.
"So you should," Remus said, nodding into his mug of coffee, which he was cuddling. "The Unicorns released it in the summer before our fifth year, and they've been playing it on the Wireless every summer since. What sun-kissed skin has to do with long nights under the stars is anyone's guess."
The song abruptly stopped.
"It was played earlier as well," Harry said. The floorboards creaked above as someone stomped across the room. "Sirius was singing it in the shower."
"Where the hell is he, anyway?" Seamus asked.
"You won't see him for a while," Remus said. "He won't come out of his room until his hair's done and he looks pretty enough. He's been the same ever since I've known him."
"Speaking of getting ready, you should do the same," Tonks said. "You stink of beer."
Remus raised his arm and sniffed his armpit, grimacing. He left a few moments later, whistling the song that had been irritating people for roughly twenty years.
A quick conversation could be heard outside the door, and Neville arrived in the kitchen moments later. Much like Harry's, his hair was still damp.
"Remus looks rough, doesn't he?" Neville said as he held a clean glass under the running tap.
"How come you don't?" Seamus asked suspiciously, still leaning back in his chair. "You're normally the worst after a night out."
"Err, I took a hangover potion…" Neville said slowly, looking unsure with himself as he tentatively took a sip of water.
Three winces greeted him, much to his alarm. "What?" he asked quickly.
"Don't you know you're not supposed to drink any potions before Portkey travel?" Tonks asked, sounding like she was on the job.
Neville's eyes widened alarmingly. "I can't believe I forgot!"
"Unlucky, mate," Harry said somewhat sympathetically, having been there once – and only once – before.
"Silly bastard." Seamus chuckled good-naturedly.
Tonks threw him a dirty look and whacked him on the arm for good measure. Seamus cringed, looking like he had half a mind to whack her back. He settled on rubbing his bicep instead.
"It's going to hurt, isn't it?" Neville said, grim determination setting in already.
"Yes," Harry said.
"At least it's not illegal," Tonks said, trying to sound cheery and comforting, but it did little to help.
Harry eventually returned to his room to finish getting dressed. Unlike Tonks, he was only taking a bag for the trip, although thanks to magic it would take a few hundred items of clothing before it would fill to its capacity.
Throwing the bag next to Tonks' suitcase, Harry arrived back in the kitchen to find Remus had returned and Dean was making breakfast, the unmistakable smell of burning bacon filling the kitchen.
"Mornin'," Dean said, his voice gravelly.
"Morning," Harry said, peering into the frying pan. "Wouldn't mind adding a few rashers for me, would you?"
"Fine, fine," Dean grumbled. "You really need to get Dobby to help you out."
"Dobby?" Harry snorted. "No thanks, he'd probably kill us all in our sleep. Accidently, of course."
Dean chuckled as the frying pan spat oil at him. "Fair point. Mad little thing, isn't he?"
"Mad?" Seamus laughed. "He has a dress-sense that rivals our dear old headmaster."
"You can't argue with that," Neville concluded.
They ate their breakfast slowly at first, until Tonks happened to glance down at Harry's watch. She shot out of her chair half a second later. "We have to be Cornwall in twenty bloody minutes!"
"Oh, fuck," Seamus said, stuffing the last of the bacon into his mouth.
"I thought you were supposed to keep us on track!" Tonks looked accusingly at Remus. "Where's the Portkey? Someone get Sirius down here!"
"Merlin, calm down," Remus said, holding his hands up. "I've got the Portkey. We'll get there on time."
The group in the kitchen crowded into the hallway, clustered around the few bags and one lone suitcase at the bottom of the stairs.
"Will you hurry the fuck up, Sirius!" an irate Tonks bellowed up the stairs, startling them all. "I was ready five bloody hours ago!"
The group winced at the noise and Harry massaged his temples.
"I'm coming!" Sirius shouted back, appearing at the top of the stairs, grinning from ear to ear. "You know, not all of us have special talents that can make us look beautiful at will. Some of us have to work at it."
"Did he just call me beautiful?" Tonks asked. She looked genuinely touched.
"What?" Harry demanded. "I said virtually the exact same thing to you earlier!"
Tonks waved him away. "Yeah, but you don't count, you're a teenager. You'll say anything to get into my knickers."
"I'm sorry, but you think Sirius wouldn't?" Harry said furiously.
Tonks, and everyone else, frowned.
"You know they're family, right, Harry?" Neville murmured.
Harry fought back a blush, shrugging. "When has that ever stopped the Blacks?"
"Ouch," Sirius said, still at the top of the stairs. "Pity I agree with you there, Harry."
Every head swung in Sirius's direction, who looked much like Harry had a moment ago.
"What I mean is," Sirius hurriedly backtracked, "nothing about the rest of this family would surprise me anymore."
"I'm sorry, but there's a more pressing issue here," Tonks said, shaking her head.
"Yeah," Remus said. "Like did Sirius really admit he wasn't naturally beautiful? I thought you were God's gift to all woman-kind, Padfoot?"
Sirius smiled as he joined the group at the bottom of the stairs. "Now, now, Mooney, there's no need to be jealous."
"I don't think anyone could ever be jealous of you in those shorts," Harry said, trying not to snicker.
Sirius looked down at his purple and pink shorts, which were covered in white flowers. From the bottom of the shorts emerged Sirius' hairy knees, giving way to pasty shins.
"What's wrong with them?" Sirius asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes, a move he had practiced and perfected as a teenager.
"There's no time for that!" Tonks interjected. "We have to go! Pick up your bags, get the Portkey ready."
Harry hoisted his bag onto his back to secure it for the journey ahead. Remus pulled out a length of black rope, the usual colour given by the Portkey Company for in-country travel. Neville was taking deep breaths, readying himself for what was going to be a dizzying, painful journey.
Sirius turned to Harry as the group held on tightly to the rope. "You don't think I should change, do-"
He didn't finish his sentence; the Portkey whisked them away before he could. Harry forced himself to keep his eyes clenched shut, even as his body smashed back and forth into Sirius and Tonks. His headache pounded harder, his stomach rumbled unpleasantly, and just as he thought he was about to be violently sick, it was over.
Harry's feet hit the ground with a thud. Tonks wobbled dangerously, clutching Harry to maintain her balance.
"How the hell you ever came to be an Auror, I'll never know," Harry muttered, steadying her.
Tonks glared at him. "You try changing the length and weight of your legs. See how long your balance holds out."
Harry smiled. "Now, now, Tonks, you don't suddenly start toppling over when your tits swell up to the size of a pair of Quaffles, do you?"
Tonks was about to reply when Seamus started chuckling.
Neville groaned from the floor, where his legs had given way, the result of the earlier potion playing out. He accepted Dean's hand, unsteadily getting to his feet.
Neville opened his mouth to talk when he suddenly slammed his jaws shut, his face reddening and his eyes suddenly watering. He scrambled at the unfamiliar jeans he was wearing.
"He's about to be sick," Sirius supplied helpfully.
"Someone get a bloody bucket or something!" Dean shouted.
"Do you spit or swallow, Longbottom?" Seamus asked.
Harry felt the urge slap them all around the head. He stepped forward with a sigh, flourishing his wand. Before he could, though, Neville had already flicked his wand, but it was too late. His cheeks puffed out, reminiscent of his puppy fat days, and he let loose a torrent of dark blue potion all over Seamus' trainers.
A second later, a bucket appeared in front of Neville and he shoved his head inside. Seamus, looking murderous, was about to shout something when the vomit disappeared after a flick of Harry's wand.
It was at that exact moment Harry realised the Portkey terminal was packed full of people, each and every one of them staring at the scene they'd just witnessed, some in disgust and others in bemusement. The people closest to them edged away, their noses twitching even after the vomit had been cleared.
Tonks cleared her throat. "I think we'd best go check-in."
"Yeah," Neville murmured, unsteadily getting to his feet, refusing to meet Seamus's stare.
The group walked two meters before they were stopped by the check-in queues. They joined the shortest line, coming to a stop behind two young parents. The mother held a baby close to her chest, the young child's big blue eyes staring over her shoulder, unblinking as he took in the sight. The father looked to be only half-listening to his son, who was chatting excitedly about the game.
Harry had to marvel at the sheer amount of confidence the young boy had. There was no worry in his voice, and there was no hope either – He knew England was going to win the match, the notion of losing not existing even as a possibility in his mind.
"Hey, Harry," Sirius said, bumping Harry with his shoulder.
Harry stopped staring at the family in front of him and turned to his Godfather. "What?"
"You don't think people are staring at me because of my shorts, do you?" Sirius whispered, casting his eyes around the terminal, glaring at anyone who happened to be looking in their direction.
Harry shook his head exasperatedly. "Believe it or not, you look more like a Muggle than most people here."
Sirius smirked as if he hadn't been at all worried. "Yeah, I thought so."
The line to the check-in desk moved a meter forward. Harry wasn't sure why people were dressing up as Muggles in the first place, as they didn't need to where they were going. He put it down to a strange tradition - wizards and witches were a rather conflicted bunch at the best of times.
Harry removed the small piece of parchment from his pocket, unfolding it. It didn't look like much, with only his name and destination printed in bold letters, but it was exceedingly hard to tamper with, replicate, or fake.
"Oi, Potter," Seamus said irritably. "Can't you put your damn fame to some good use and get us through quicker?"
Harry looked over his shoulder. "I could, but that would mean taking down the notice-me-not charm."
"There's no point anyway," Remus cut in. "Everyone's on the same Portkey, it won't leave until we're all holding on."
Seamus grumbled just because he could. He dropped his bag at Harry's feet. "Say, have you spoken to Greengrass recently?"
"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head.
"Why not?" Seamus asked curiously. "I thought you and her might have had something going."
"We don't."
"You're definitely in with a chance though, Potter," Seamus said. "You'd be a bit of an eejit to let that one go."
"If you say so," Harry said, ending the conversation.
It took another half an hour for the line to get shorter and the family of four to go through to the Departure Lounge. The man behind the desk looked up, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. He called them over with a wave of his hand.
"Portkey tickets, please."
The group did as instructed. The man looked up sharply when he read Harry's name, his large eyes narrowing.
"You are aware security is in the next room, sir?" he said, looking at Harry. "There is not a concealment charm or potion in existence that cannot be detected."
Harry nodded, doubting that claim very much. "I'm sure the charm I'm using will dispel when I'm checked, mate."
The man stared at him for moment. "Go on through," he said slowly.
Harry stuffed his ticket back into his pocket and slung his bag over his shoulder. He made his way around the check-in desk, leading the group up the stairs, where they came across a dozen guards, dressed in official-looking robes. They were all standing in front of what looked like wall made of water. It shimmered and sloshed, as though the very stone was bending and twisting.
"Hands where we can see them, please, and walk through one at a time."
Harry glanced at the man who had spoken. He sounded utterly bored with his job, not that anyone could blame him. Who wanted to watch people Portkey all over the world when you were stuck doing your day job?
"Really, I don't know why they go to all this trouble," Seamus said, far louder than necessary. "It's not like anyone would come through here if they were up to no good."
The men in official robes tensed, most-likely looking for an excuse to relieve the boredom of the shift they were working.
Harry barely rolled his eyes as he walked straight at the wall, reminded of what was essentially the same procedure used to get into Platform nine-and-three-quarters. As soon as his foot hit the wall, his whole body was encased. It suffocated, blinded, and disorientated him for barely a second, when he was suddenly facing an entirely different room.
Harry showed just how ineffective the security measures were by re-applying the notice-me-not charm, finishing just as Neville stumbled out of a solid-looking wall, wiping his brow and looking a little green around the edges.
"You know you can buy some pain-relief potions, right?" Harry said helpfully. "I'm sure they sell them here somewhere. You won't be able to use them until we get there, though, but it's better than nothing."
Before Neville could answer, Seamus appeared, grimacing as he pulled at the sleeves of his jacket. As soon as he looked up his eyes widened, his lips parting slightly. "Whoa…"
The Departure Lounge was strange because it looked nothing like the ancient stone and wood the magical world had been using for centuries. The top of the walls gave way to glass, where it spread to the ceiling to arc over the entire building, where it created a dome.
The interior was filled with shops that at first glance wouldn't have looked out of place in the Muggle world – but only at first glance. There were restaurants, jewellers, book shops, Quidditch shops, an apothecary, clothes shops, and even a few bars that weren't held in a pub, but out in the open. A few tables were placed conveniently around said bars, where men practically cuddled their pints while their wives and girlfriends did their last-minute shopping.
By the time Harry, Neville, and Seamus had finished gawking, the rest of the group had joined up with them. By an unspoken agreement, Neville shot off to the apothecary; Tonks dragged Sirius to the shops because there was no other woman there and he'd have to do; Remus wandered towards the book shop, and Harry, Dean, and Seamus headed straight to the bar.
Harry took a long sip from his pint and sank back into his chair. He'd never been out of Britain before. The experience was completely foreign to him.
"How long have we got, anyway?" Seamus asked, staring at his ticket. "It says here that the Portkey leaves at one. What's the time now?"
"We've got half an hour, calm down," Dean said, copying Harry and sinking back in his chair. "This reminds me of airports, you know. A bunch of useless shops selling people a bunch of useless shit they'd only ever buy while they're bored."
Neville, looking far more awake and with colour in his cheeks, strolled over to them. "Here," he said, passing a blue potion to Harry and one to Dean.
"You know we can't take these," Dean said.
Neville shook his head. "For when we get there."
"Where's mine?" Seamus demanded, glaring at Neville.
"You always tell us you're Irish and you can handle your drink," Neville replied calmly. "I didn't think you'd need one."
Seamus sniffed, obviously conflicted.
Harry just sipped his drink.
Ten minutes later, Remus joined them. "I don't know why I bloody bothered," he said. "Books aimed at children and sports fans. Don't get me wrong, it's good for kids to want to learn, but what about men my age?"
"Dreadfully unfair," Seamus muttered dryly.
Sirius and Tonks appeared at their table sporting identical grins. Harry spotted the Puddlemere United Quidditch jersey's the pair had bought and were now wearing.
"You want to see the best bit?" Sirius laughed, turning his back to them. Tonks did the same.
'Potter' was written across the shoulders of both jerseys in bold white letters, and underneath were the numbers 'seven'.
Harry groaned. "Really? Come on, I haven't played a game yet! I haven't even had a training session."
"Don't be a spoilsport, Harry." Sirius continued to grin as he turned back around.
"I didn't even know they were selling shirts with your name on them yet," Dean said curiously. "Then again, your name alone will probably earn them a fair bit."
"Give them here, I'll burn the damn things," Seamus said with a glint in his eye, ever the fanatic.
Harry sipped his pint again as Sirius started talking about Puddlemere, mostly to annoy Seamus. Tonks dropped into a chair and nicked Harry's pint, smiling as she did so.
"I can't say the same for that git," Harry said, "but damn, Tonks, you should wear Quidditch jerseys more often."
Tonks grinned at the compliment, pushing out her chest and stretching the jersey across her breasts. Harry nodded to himself, well aware he was staring. The jersey had been tight before, and he was sure Tonks had worked her magic to make it even tighter.
"Teenage boys!" Tonks laughed. "So easy to please, the lot of you."
Judging by the looks on the teenagers' faces, she was correct. Even Remus couldn't resist taking a sly glance, his eyebrow quirking in appreciation.
"Stop staring you pervert!" Sirius said, whacking his oldest friend in the arm.
Remus barely batted an eyelash. "At least she's not family."
"You're old enough to be her father!"
"I'm sorry, but have you forgotten the last girl you bragged about?" Remus asked. "How old was she? Younger than Tonks, if I remember."
Sirius rolled his eyes, his retort held back by someone clearing their throat over the speakers, with obvious use of the Sonorus charm.
"The Portkey to Chrysi, Greece, will be departing in twenty minutes. Would all passengers please go through to room six. I repeat, would all passengers please go through to room six."
Quickly finishing their drinks, the group followed their instructions.
"Be still my beating heart," Sirius said overdramatically, clutching his chest. "Would you look at that?"
"Where?" Seamus asked eagerly, frantically looking around.
"In front of us, you idiot," Harry said, his eyes having found the object of Sirius's attention.
The young woman looked no older than Harry, at least from what he could see of her. She swayed her hips in a way attractive women were somehow able to do without realising they were doing it. Her tanned legs demanded Harry's attention; he gazed in wonder and disappointment as they met the hem of her sundress far too quickly.
"The quicker we get there the better," Seamus muttered.
"You don't think I'm too old for her, do you?" Sirius asked as they entered room six.
"Yeah, I do," Harry said with a nod.
"Damn, I'd happily reunite with the Dementors for a night with her," Sirius said, whistling through his teeth in appreciation.
Remus wasn't the only to frown, but he was the only one to answer. "You're a perverted old man, Padfoot. Not only that, but you're a hypocrite as well."
"It doesn't matter what he is," Harry said, stalling a floundering Sirius, "'cause she's mine."
"Like fuck, Potter," Seamus said with a grin.
"Game on."
Room six was a large, mostly empty room. It contained a long, white rope – the largest the company used for international travel – and one man wearing a hat. Everyone there looked like they'd taken a Portkey before and they chose their spot.
Harry tightened the strap on his bag, checked he had everything, and grabbed on. Unlike normal Portkeys, which only held you to the object for the journey, International Portkeys grabbed you the moment you touched them and wouldn't release their grip until you'd landed.
"You know why they do this, don't you?" Sirius said as he flicked his hand up and down, gazing at the rope that stayed glued to his palm.
"Why?"
"There was a myth when I was kid that a small girl lost her grip and fell into the Atlantic," Sirius said.
"It was never proved, of course," Remus spoke up, looking unsure. "You never know though, do you?"
Harry's left hand joined his right hand on the rope, and he pointedly ignored the chuckles aimed his way.
The man with the hat picked up the rope and shook it. The rope instantly stopped drooping and swinging, turning hard in an instant.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "There's a joke in there about-"
"Excuse me," a man said, clearing his throat. He pointed down and to the side of him, where his young daughter was looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Harry half-smiled, dropping his earlier thought process.
The man with the hat tapped the rope with his wand and looked up. "Everyone ready?"
Neville groaned, kids clutched at their parents' free hands, a few people muttered in reply, and Harry closed his eyes. He could feel his body being compressed and stretched, squeezed and twisted, and lights flew past his clenched eyes like fireworks on a clear night. His body didn't collide with anyone this time and his stomach only grumbled twice. It felt like he was swaying on rough waves. He was giddy and his throat closed as he tried to breathe … and just like the last time, the feeling disappeared altogether in the blink of an eye.
The first thing Harry noticed was the sheer heat trapped inside the room they'd landed in. The Portkey room was similar in size and appearance to the one they'd just left, but it was just as bland.
"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Neville said, downing the potion he'd bought to ward off the nausea that another Portkey journey had caused.
The slightly groggy group followed the crowd through a plain corridor and up three sets of stairs. They walked down a ramp, where a man was smiling at every woman who crossed his path, before they finally stepped out of the front doors.
"Merlin, it's boiling!" Seamus exclaimed.
Sirius smiled all the more smugly. "Why do you think I'm wearing shorts?"
Harry looked up and blew his fringe out of his eyes, slightly startled as the heat unexpectedly smacked into him. They were standing just a little ways off a long beach, the golden sand and the startlingly blue sea already having claimed the attention of hundreds of witches and wizards. It was only then he noticed the noise – he figured silencing charms had been placed around the building. The waters were full of bobbing heads and people flying their brooms inches above the tantalising Mediterranean Sea.
Adults relaxed in the searing heat, while their children had built sandcastles taller than their own heights. Many had built replicas of famous Quidditch stadiums and landmarks, and Harry was sure he spotted Hogwarts in the process of being built by a group of young men. A group of teenagers were throwing Quaffles between themselves, either not noticing the aggravated looks sent their way or not caring.
Harry turned back to the crowd he'd arrived with and was slightly startled when the building he'd exited wasn't what he'd expected at all. It was a small, wooden hut. Huts of the same structure had been set up, lining the edge of the beach and for what looked like miles inland. Side by side and creating streets in the sand, there must have been hundreds of them, all used solely for the World Cup.
"Come on," Remus said, a smile on his lips. "We're in Hut 294."
The small group travelled along the beach in a daze, keeping their eyes peeled for the hut they'd be staying in. Along the way they spotted numerous restaurants and bars, and shops selling Quidditch trinkets and paraphernalia. Harry pointedly ignored the laughter when they saw a Harry Potter figurine on display in one window.
Despite being on the coast of the beautiful island, the heat was clearly getting to the group. Harry desperately wished he'd had Sirius's foresight to wear shorts. His clothes were starting to stick to his skin and his hands were clammy.
Sirius was smiling brightly as he practically basked in the sun and jealous glances coming his way.
After five minutes of walking and sweating profusely, they finally spotted their hut. Remus fumbled with the key for a moment, before the lock clicked and he pushed open the door.
Harry had seen a number of spectacular sights in his time in the magical world, but magic still had a few surprises up its sleeve. The organisers had obviously taken a lot of pride in their work.
The group walked in slowly across a marble floor, which had replaced the sand. It gleamed in the sun, which shone through a large window, through which they could see the shimmering waves. The large room, which had been expanded, held a number of sofas and chairs, all of which looked incredibly soft and comfortable. A small coffee table sat in the middle of the room.
Sirius opened a varnished door. "Whoa," he said, looking back over his shoulder. "We've got an built-in swimming pool!"
Tonks opened another door, to Sirius's left. She turned around with a scowl. "Kitchen," she said distastefully.
"Wouldn't mind making me a sandwich, would you?" Seamus asked cockily, immediately ducking to miss the purple spell shot from Tonks' wand. The spell hit the wall, leaving a small scorch mark on the wood.
The group drifted up to the staircase, where a number of doors were lined around the circular walls. Harry opened a door that led to a large bathroom.
"Wizards have no sense of scale, do they?" Harry said, looking at the large bath which easily rivalled the one in the Prefects bathroom back at Hogwarts.
Harry took the bedroom two doors to the right of the bathroom, nodding to himself as soon as he stepped inside. It had a window overlooking the sea, and the large bed looked oddly tantalising. Pulling his bag off his shoulder and onto the bed, he pulled out a potion, uncorking it with his thumb.
It was the hangover potion Neville had handed to him back in England.
It was always a rather weird sensation, no matter how many times you drank it. At first, all that could be felt was a chilling sensation, and you really could feel it as it snaked its way down your throat. When it settled, remarkably quickly, in your stomach, the strong sensation stayed for a matter of seconds before gradually fading.
Depending on the quantity of alcohol consumed, it could take anywhere from ten minutes to two hours for your hangover to recede. When it did disappear though, you'd swear you'd never touched a drop of alcohol in your life.
Harry had a feeling he'd need a few more over the course of the weekend.
Harry liberally applied a few charms to freshen himself up and changed into a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. After taking out some money, he threw his bag into the wardrobe. He opened his door and headed back downstairs. He could hear voices, and had to stifle his laughter.
"…a nude beach on the north."
"Really?" Sirius sounded gleeful. "Let's go up there!"
"Don't get your hopes up, Padfoot," Remus said. "Only the Muggles use it."
"So?" Sirius said. "I have nothing against Muggles."
"Haven't you been reading the papers for the last few months?" Tonks asked exasperatedly. "It's been a political nightmare for the Greek Ministry."
Harry zoned out as he arrived downstairs, already knowing the story. Chrysi was a remarkable island for more reasons than one, but perhaps what made it extraordinary was that it was governed by the Greek parliament and the Greek Ministry alike. Harry had covered the history of magical Europe in his seventh year, proving that Professor Binns didn't just drone on about Goblin Wars and Rebellions.
Harry hadn't paid too much attention on the subject, although it hadn't been from lack of interest. Binns had a unique talent to make even the exciting aspects of the past dreadfully dull, and so Harry could only remember odd facts about great historic events.
For months leading up to the World Cup, the front pages were dominated by news of the Greek Ministry's struggle to use the island and block access to the Muggles. They'd had to give in to a few demands from the Greek Parliament, but the Greek Ministry had got their wish, and Chrysi was an all-magical island for the whole of July.
"Come on, then," Harry said, stepping into the room. "Shall we go and explore this island?"
Instead of exploring the island, they found themselves stepping out of a restaurant two hours later, stuffed full of exotic foods they'd never seen before, let alone actually eaten. The group collectively decided not to explore the island, and headed straight for the beach instead.
Sirius found a spot and immediately started ogling some of the beauties on show, Seamus headed to the nearest bar, and everyone else collapsed on conjured loungers.
Harry liberally applied charms to ward off the sun's violent effects, and watched Tonks start stripping. He didn't know what had been enhanced and what was natural, but he didn't particularly care.
"I told you, didn't I, Tonks?" Harry said gleefully, happily accepting a bottle of cold beer from Seamus. "If you've got it, flaunt it!"
Tonks barely batted an eyelash as she stood there in a skimpy, white bikini. Every inch of skin was smooth, and she was already tanned. "Don't get any funny ideas," she warned. "I can't stop you looking, but no touching."
"Don't worry, I think half of the people here are looking at me," Seamus said, pulling off his shirt, revealing a pale Irish complexion. He completely ignored the snorts and the incredulous looks sent his way, appearing to be completely serious.
Harry had just about managed to get Tonks' figure out of his head a few hours later, after they'd changed and headed for the bars along the beach. The sun had lowered in the sky and the heat had dropped considerably, but it was by no means chilly.
Sitting around a table outside, it wasn't long before the conversation turned, inevitably, to Quidditch. The bar's Wireless had been turned on, ready for the match, but the volume was low until kick-off.
"Have you actually heard from any of the guys?" Sirius asked, struggling to get at his luminescent orange cocktail around the pink umbrella.
Harry shook his head. "Ollie and the twins have been holed up in the England camp. I heard from Krum a couple of weeks ago, though. He said we'd have to catch up if he had the time."
"Speaking of Krum…" Sirius said, pulling a face, as though the cocktail he was drinking held more lime than alcohol.
"What about him?"
"Is he actually as good as everyone's making him out to be?" Sirius looked thoroughly conflicted, receiving some perplexed stares from those that heard him.
"Put it this way," Seamus said, leaning forward and always wanting to get one over on England. "Ackerley could play the game of his life tomorrow and England would still lose."
"Pah!" Sirius dismissed Seamus with a scoff. "I don't care what they say; everyone can have an off day."
"You've never seen him play, have you?" Harry asked, chuckling humourlessly. "Trust me, Sirius, he could play the worst game of his career and he'd still be the best player on the field."
Sirius shook his head, his long hair bouncing wildly around his head. "You had a trial against Ackerley, Harry. You said he was brilliant."
"He is," Harry said honestly, getting tired of the argument. "I've flown against Krum as well, though, and Ackerley just isn't in his league."
"Ackerley played outstanding in the semis though, you have to hand it to him," Dean said reasonably. "He hasn't really played a bad match either, and he's helped the Chasers out."
"Yeah!" Sirius said quickly. "He's caught every Snitch so far in this tournament as well, that's got to count for something."
"So has Krum," Tonks pointed out, quickly going back to sipping her own drink, a bottle of beer, when Sirius glared at her.
"And all of that makes no difference against Krum," Harry said, exasperated.
Seeing that he was clearly losing his argument, Sirius sulked. "I think you should back your country more." He sniffed. "Not to mention you should support your friends."
Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He would have said Krum was also his friend, but he doubted that would do him any favours. "I have no doubt that England will play well, but I've just got that feeling, you know? Krum should have won the World Cup four years ago-"
"Hey!" Seamus said indignantly.
"Well, come on," Harry said. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want him to beat us, but nobody can argue that he doesn't deserve to win. It would be a shame if he never won the World Cup."
"If you're so enamoured with him, just go and tell him how you feel already," Sirius said petulantly.
Harry just laughed. The whole conversation reminded of a particular day in the infirmary not that long ago.
"You know what I don't understand?" Tonks said. "How come only one stadium is being used for all of the games? It's lucky that none of the games have gone on too long."
Harry shrugged, idly watching a group of girls approach the bar. He was sure he recognised one of them from somewhere, though he couldn't see her properly with the crowd around her.
"Games aren't as long as they used to be, are they?" Neville said.
"The brooms are faster now, and the players are better," Sirius said.
As the volume on the bar's Wireless was turned up a few notches, the conversation turned to Ireland's third place play-off game against Germany. Most people said the consolation game was pointless, but many fans had stuck around on the island. Different bars had been built for seemingly every nation and every language, and many of them were full.
Half an hour later, the game kicked off, with Ireland taking initiative early on, taking three shots but only scoring one penalty. Germany hit back on the counter-attack, and the score was tied when the first real excitement came.
"Lynch appears to have seen the Snitch… No! Sorry folks, he's tried to fool the whole stadium, and I dare say many of us fell for it. Not bad, Aidan Lynch, not bad at all."
"Well, we all know who the commentator's rooting for," Tonks said dryly.
Seamus snorted, already on the edge of his seat. "Even the English want us to win. Does this mean I have to support you tomorrow?"
"No," Harry said. "We just can't stand the idea of Germany winning anything, even if we've already gone further than them."
"I'm sure the feeling's mutual," Seamus muttered.
Harry hummed in agreement as every Irishman around them suddenly leapt out of their seats, cheering wildly as their team scored. Harry ignored them all. His eyes sought out the girl he'd seen earlier, now sat around a table with her friends further down the beach, closer to the waves. They looked to be around his age, and they were ignoring the boisterous fans, who had started singing about a famous Irishman from not so long ago.
Sirius caught Harry's eye, a small grin breaking out. He urged him on, and Harry felt he couldn't refuse.
Harry slipped out of his chair, grabbed his bottle of beer, and took a stroll towards the familiar girl. The horizon was coloured in shades of orange and reds as the sun set, leaving enough light for Harry to get a clear picture of her. She wore a light, thin dress, which had slipped up her thigh. He knew where he recognised her from.
He approached the group and had to wonder when his confidence had skyrocketed. Maybe it was Sirius's influence. It could have been the experience he was gaining as he grew up. It probably had more to do with the beer, though.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Harry said, stopping a few yards from their table. "I'm Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you."
The girls had barely glanced at him at first, much like everyone else on the island had been doing all day. When the notice-me-not charm broke, however, they stared at him in shock.
Harry smiled, a touch nervously. "Do you mind if I sit down?"
There was mad dash as the girls tried to get him to sit next to them. Harry quickly grabbed a chair and took a seat. He made sure she was next to him.
"What's your name?"
The girl who'd walked in front of him at the Portkey terminal smiled a pretty, dainty smile. A faint blush rose from her chest to neck, hardly prominent on her tanned skin.
"Anna," she said softly, biting the tip of her straw.
Harry gave her his best smile and took a sip of beer to calm his jitters. He extended his smile to her friends, remembering a bit of advice Sirius had given him. Never ignore her friends, Sirius had said, because they can determine the course of your night in the blink of an eye.
It was at that exact moment Harry found himself stuck, and he desperately wished he'd thought of something to say before he'd let himself walk over to them like he was some suave lothario. He'd never been overly shy, although he had never looked for attention per say, but sometimes you just had to put yourself out there. How else were you ever going to achieve anything?
Thankfully, Anna saved him any embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, hurrying to introduce him to her friends.
Harry kept up his smile, nodding his head towards the three other girls in turn. "A pleasure to meet you all."
"Is it true you've gone professional?" Anna asked, allowing her friends no time to strike up a conversation. She brushed her brown hair over shoulder, placing her elbow on the table as she leant forward.
Harry nodded, more to himself than to the question. He was on familiar ground. "Yes, it is. I probably shouldn't be drinking, but what the boss doesn't know and all that, eh?"
"You've got to have fun, haven't you?" Anna said. "What's the point in coming all this way if you couldn't have a good time?"
"Exactly," Harry said. "And never let it be said that I live a boring life."
"Oh, no, no-one would ever think that about you," Anna said quickly.
One of Anna's friends leant forward with what barely passed as a sly smile. "Anna's always had a thing for Quidditch players, Harry."
"Has she really?" Harry murmured, idly noticing Anna's blue eyes reflected the setting sun as they locked on his. She nodded imperceptibly, as if she didn't realise she was doing it.
"I'd love to see you in action someday," Anna said, her voice taking on a seductive tone that had Harry's heart beating a little faster.
"I'm sure we can work something out," Harry said, unintentionally leaning closer. A hint of perfume drifted over him, mixed with the unmistakable scent of a strong cocktail, nearly overwhelming his senses. Around them, small, contained fires were being lit along the beach. Each table had a candle in the middle, and all of them suddenly burst into life.
Anna wet her strawberry red lips as she intentionally brushed her bare foot along Harry's exposed calf. She was much closer to him now. So close, in fact, that if he moved he was sure there would be no backing out.
Harry was sure his heart could be heard hammering against his ribcage. At times, being who he was could be such a burden. As Anna brushed her lips against his, he couldn't help but think that sometimes, being Harry Potter was undoubtedly the best thing in the world.