When the Unexpected Comes A-knockin': Part Three
Title: When the Unexpected Comes A-Knockin’
Author: Elle_S_Shadow
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't like to have much to do with the wizarding world - not after he lost so much in the war. He takes comfort in hiding his life behind the excuse of his mysterious and secretive muggle roommate, Adam Coorfly. But when he starts to let himself live again, he uncovers secrets about his past and learns that sometimes fate can be right in front of you.
Beta: cynikal_lemon
Notes: I started writing this before Deathly Hallows came out. Then Deathly Hallows came out and I tried to throw in a few details from it here and there. So anything in my plot that you recognize from Deathly Hallows probably IS from Deathly Hallows. Lovely. Also, needless to say, but this goes AU after Half-Blood Prince. This fic is finished and will be updated weekly.
Part One
Part Two
Thursday, April 13th 2000
Five Things I'm Afraid Of
* Losing my job
* Making Harry angry and getting kicked out
* Really big dogs
* Even more so, strangely, if they're black and hairy
* Never ever remembering who I am
The clock on the bedside table started beeping, and Adam got up from the desk where his typewriter was sitting and hit the button to turn the clock off.
He'd been awake for about an hour, nervous about his first day of work.
He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering again that he needed to cut it. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes back on. He glanced at the clock. It read 6:32.
He left the flat and headed down the street to Ragamuffins. He really wanted a coffee, but he had no money. He'd have to see how far he could get on charm.
It was nearly empty, again. The only person in there was a young man about Adam's age, and a young woman across the table from him. They were talking in hushed tones, so Adam went straight to the counter.
The woman behind the counter was the one Harry had upset the previous day, and Adam saw that her name tag read "Amelia".
"Hello there, Amelia," He said, smiling brightly.
"Well hello there," She smiled back impishly. "Aren't you the fellow who stole my room?"
"That I am," Adam gave a sheepish grin. "Terribly sorry about that. No hard feelings?"
"'Course not," Amelia said, "I don't even know your name, I can't rightly be angry with you."
"My name," Adam said in a conspiratorial tone, "is Adam Coorfly. And I've got a problem."
"What's that, Mr. Coorfly?"
"Adam, please," he said in a playfully scolding tone. "I desperately need a cup of coffee. The problem is it's my first day of work, and so I've not yet been paid, and therefore cannot afford to buy myself coffee."
"That's quite a dilemma," Amelia said. "And I think I've got a solution. I give you a coffee, and you go out to dinner with me sometime."
Adam grinned. "I would, of course, truly appreciate your company and companionship, but I must warn you before you can accuse me of leading you on - you aren't exactly my type."
"What's your type, then?" Amelia asked, looking momentarily put out.
"Him," Adam jerked a thumb back towards the young man, "But it doesn't appear that I'm his type. Shame, that." That fact was another one of those little details he could remember about himself. It seemed to still hold true pretty well.
Amelia gaped at him for a moment, before a dangerously gleeful grin crossed her face. "And you're rooming with Harry?" she asked.
"Yes?"
She grinned even wider, if possible. "So are we on for dinner anyway?" She asked.
"Not tonight. You'll see me often, I can imagine. We'll work something out."
"Of course," she smiled at him, and he nodded his thanks to her, eyed the unfortunately straight young man one last time, and exited the cafe.
*****
The day at the shop dragged on. There were three costumers, and no one bought anything. Adam spent the morning taking inventory around the shop. He was enthralled with all of the strange devices. He had no idea what most of them did, or how they worked, but as long as he knew their price, it didn't seem to matter.
The day dragged by. The shop was filled to the brim with ancient things, and held a musty odor. It was hard to walk through the store, things were simply tossed hither and thither, with no real purpose. An elderly woman had asked him where to locate something and he had to stifle his response of "Lady, even if I knew what that was, I'd never be able to find it." He instead told her he wasn't quite sure if their last one had been sold off or not, and that she was free to look around.
By one o'clock, when Mr. Fields came down and took over for a few hours, Adam was desperate for human contact. So when he went back to the flat and found it empty, he was highly disappointed.
Adam, a note on the counter said, I'll be home around four. You can scrounge around the freezer for something for lunch, or go out and get something. I left the Pizza menu out - they deliver, you just have to tell them the apartment number.
"I don't know how to talk to the pizza people," Adam grumbled, and opened the freezer. It was empty. Adam sighed and slipped his coat back on.
*****
"Is Amelia working?" Adam asked the young man behind the counter.
"Her shift ended at eleven," the man said, "Can I help you?"
"I reallllllllly need to talk to Amelia," Adam said, and realized that he was whining. Whining well.
The man rolled his eyes. "Are you planning on ordering anything, sir?"
"No," Adam said petulantly, "I want Amelia."
"Too bad," the man finally snapped, "Can I please help next the next customer?"
Just then Adam heard footsteps coming down the stairs at the far end of the cafe, and a young woman waved at the cashier.
"Hey! Kate!" The cashier called, and the girl stopped, looking at him expectantly.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Oh," She said, looking a little put out, "Amelia and I just planned to see a show tonight." She jerked her thumb back towards the stairs.
Adam smiled to himself and made his way to the stairs, climbing up.
There was a strange button next to the door, and he frowned at it. People had such a button thing. Everything worked with buttons.
He pushed the button and said to it, "I need Amelia."
The door opened a few seconds later, and Adam grinned at her.
"Adam?" She asked, clearly surprised.
"Is it a bad time?" He didn't wait for any answer before blurting out, "I need to eat and I can't figure out how to work anything in Harry's flat!"
Amelia blinked at him once, twice, and burst out laughing.
"It's not funny!" Adam cried, "I'm starving!"
"Come in, come in," she said, still laughing, stepping back to let him into the tiny flat.
He entered the room sheepishly, and she motioned for him to follow her and headed towards her tiny kitchen.
"Grilled cheese?" she offered.
"Lovely," Adam picked it up from the plate. "Were you expecting company? You made quite a few."
"I eat a lot," Amelia grinned, "And I usually then save leftovers for dinner."
"S'not a bad idea," Adam said agreeably, and then casually added, "Does this count as our dinner date?"
"Only if you come back tomorrow," Amelia grinned.
"I think I can handle that."
"So how's everything?" Amelia asked, looked at him over her own half-eaten grilled cheese.
Adam looked at her for a moment. She was very pretty, he noticed, with a small face, and black spiked hair. She was perched on the edge of the counter, her ankles crossed and legs swinging, her heels thumping against the cupboards below with each swing.
"Everything is grand," he said, with a raised eyebrow, "I can't remember anything about myself, I'm living with a perfect stranger, I can't figure out how to work anything, my job makes me claustrophobic, and my only friend is some girl with terrible fashion sense."
Amelia cocked her head to the side. "Can't remember anything?"
Adam took another big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm an amnesia victim. But Harry doesn't know."
Amelia's grin grew even wider. "That is so cool!" She cried, "So, like, do you have any idea what anything is?"
"No," Adam said sourly.
She laughed, throwing her head back.
She hopped up from the counter and pulled something from the wall. "This," she said, "is a telephone. You press those little buttons, and it connects you to who you want to talk to." She pulled something out of her back pocket. "This is a mobile. It does the same thing, except it goes everywhere with you. We should get you one!"
"Sure..." Adam said faintly.
She continued in a likewise fashion, explaining almost everything in her tiny flat, right down to the loo.
"I know how to use that," Adam scowled, which only made her laugh again. Being with Amelia was easy, and truly enjoyable, he found.
Sitting on her couch, watching a box she called a "telly", he said, "So how's 'everything' with you, hmm?"
Amelia pursed her lips in amusement. "Well, my job blows, I've been kicked out of my old apartment because the man I love thinks I party too hard, I now have to rent this tiny piece of shit, and my newest friend is the twerp that said love-of-my-life kicked me out for."
Adam tried to feel bad, truly, but he could only laugh. Amelia kind of did that to him.
*****
When Harry returned at four and found the flat empty, he frowned, but didn't think much of it. Adam was probably exploring the town.
When five o'clock came and went, Harry began to feel a little bit uneasy.
By six o'clock, as he made himself dinner, he was worried.
When, at seven, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and - of all vile things - Amelia's laughter, he was furious.
The door opened, and Harry caught a glimpse of Adam's rusty hair. "Tomorrow then?"
"Absolutely," Harry heard Amelia say, "Do you remember how to work it?"
"I push this button, I say your name, and it goes straight to you," Adam recited, and Harry twisted his mouth in confusion.
Amelia left, and Adam entered the sitting room.
"Er..." he said, glancing at Harry and then at the clock, having the grace to look sheepish, "Sorry about that. I hope I didn't worry you."
"I'd just hoped you hadn't gotten murdered down in town," Harry said coolly.
"Would it help if I said it won't happen again?" Adam asked, "Amelia helped me get a mobile, so now you can just call to see where I am. I need to put your number in there so I can warn you if I'll be late."
"That'd be fine," Harry agreed.
"I would like to point out, however, that I am your flat-mate, and not your foster child. I'm a grown man, and I really don't have to tell you where I am, I just do it out of courtesy." Adam kept his tone polite, but it was clear he was agitated.
"You're right," Harry said, looking down at his hands, "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Adam said, and headed down the hallway to his room.
*****
Late one night Harry woke up, for no reason that he could find. The house was dark and silent, and he hadn't been having a nightmare. With a sigh, he pushed the blankets off and slid into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, standing and heading towards the door. He needed some water.
The hallway was lit by a small lamp on a table at the far end, leaving certain patches a yellowy glow, while the rest was pitched in darkness. Harry started making his way towards the stairs, when he ran into something solid.
He couldn't help it. He screamed. Loudly.
He pushed instinctively and grabbed for his wand as doors along the hall flew open.
It was Malfoy looking at him like her were a total ninny.
"Alright, Harry?" someone called.
"Fine!" he called back, "Go back to sleep, everyone. Sorry. Saw a mouse."
The doors shut again, and he swore he heard someone mutter 'Fucking Chosen One afraid of a mouse. We're screwed.'
He looked at Draco and opened his mouth to say 'What the hell are you doing lurking outside my bedroom in the middle of the fucking night?' and instead blurted, "Do you ever sleep?"
Draco looked at him evenly. "Not in this house."
"Oh, so you can talk," Harry said. "What's the matter, afraid the boogie-man's going to pop out of the closet?"
"More like my father or the Dark Lord, actually. The boogie-man's not so bad."
Harry nodded. "Is your father...?"
"What?" Draco pushed himself angrily off of the wall that he had been leaning on, and looked straight at Harry. "Is he what?"
"Is he on your side, or Voldemort's?"
Draco flinched. "Why do you do that? Do you just have to prove that you're big and brave?"
"What?"
"Saying his name. We get it, Potter. You're fantastic. You don't have to try and prove it."
"I'm not proving anything. I didn't grow up fearing the name like you did. It's just a name to me."
Draco looked at him for a moment, and then turned away, heading back downstairs. Harry sat on the top step. Draco never did answer his question.
Friday, April 14th, 2000
"You look angry," Hermione greeted Harry the next day on his way into his office.
"I'm not," Harry grumbled.
"What's the matter?"
"Adam's got a new friend." Harry sighed and sat down on the edge of Hermione desk.
Hermione looked at him calculatingly. "Well, you're either extremely jealous that it's not you - which I wouldn't understand since he's been in your flat for two days, or it's someone you're not overly fond of."
"It's Amelia," Harry admitted.
Hermione snickered into her hand, and Harry sent her a dark look.
"There's a meeting at three today, Harry," Hermione told him suddenly, getting back into business-mode.
"Who with?"
Hermione grimaced. "It's a sort of... intervention type thing. They're worried about you."
"So they're going to make it all better by being sweet and comforting and nurturing, right?" Harry snorted, "What are they going to do, threaten to fire me if I don't put more voice in the forms that I fill out?"
"Now Harry," Hermione chastised, "They're just concerned about you, like I am. They just want to see you alive again."
Harry placed his hands roughly onto her desk. "Maybe, just maybe, if I was doing something at this job besides sitting at a desk watching my life tick away, you'd see a bit more life. Give me some hands-on jobs! Let me go out in the field! Let me do something! You won't see any life until they let me live!"
Hermione looked at him for a moment, her face tight, but her lips twisting into a grimace. "So tell them that, Harry," she said, "and see what they tell you."
*****
Adam strummed his fingers along the top of the desk, and glanced, again, at the clock. The hand hadn't moved since the last time he'd looked.
He sighed heavily, and decided to clear the desk. It was piled with loads and loads of stuff.
He got all of the papers into a pile, all of the pens and scissors and tape into another, and placed the pile of random items on the floor next to the desk. He opened a drawer and placed all the pens and things in it, and put the papers into another. Already he felt like he could breathe easier in the old shop.
He spun the swivel chair around and faced the selves on the wall behind him. He stood up and started pulling things off the shelves, making piles of items based on what they seemed to do.
It took him all day to clear and sort that small section of shelving, but Adam felt oddly accomplished as he closed up shop. As he went to exit the shop, he turned around and looked at the desk. It, and the area behind and around it, were clean and organized. Adam smiled and left.
*****
"What did they say?" Hermione asked, as Harry made his way back from the staff room to his office to close up.
"You know what they said," Harry muttered.
Hermione frowned. "I really do feel for you, Harry, but I can't say I don't see where they're coming from. We've gone over this befor-."
"Too many times," Harry agreed, interrupting her, "You can tell me again and again to stop 'hiding', or running, or whatever, and I'll listen. But I don't see it as hiding, Hermione. I'm just surviving. I have to survive... for those that didn't. Because it's my fault they didn't."
Hermione shook her head.
Harry sighed. "We have this argument a lot."
"You're letting the war ruin your life."
"At least I've got a life after the war. It's more than I can say for most of the people on our side."
Hermione remained silent, everything quiet but for her quill scratching as she filled out something or another. Even at the height of an argument, Hermione was working diligently.
"Ron and I made it out alive, Harry, shouldn't you count that as a blessing?"
Harry looked at her. "I thank whatever deity exists every single day for that. But it doesn't mean we didn't lose anyone I cared about. What about Ginny? You didn't see that, Hermione. That spell hit her like a freight train. When I ran over to her body, she seemed fine - not even a bruise where she landed. But then she opened her eyes... and they went blank. There was nothing there. For a split second as she opened them, I saw Ginny, and the next second... she wasn't there."
"Harry, I-."
"What about Seamus and Dean? Colin Creevey told the Death Eaters their location when questioned about me. They didn't even get the choice of whether or not they were willing to die in my place."
"The Creeveys were-."
"What about Draco Malfoy? He fought on our side of the war in that final battle. He died for our side."
Hermione looked at him evenly. "You've got to stop blaming yourself for that, Harry. You couldn't save Draco Malfoy. That's okay."
"What about Tonks? What about Remus?"
"Harry, I-."
"I'm trying, Hermione," Harry pleaded.
"I know you're trying, Harry," Hermione said, her voice finally gentler, "But your trying is more like pretending."
*****
When Harry returned to the apartment that night, stony and furious, Adam was grinning at him from the couch like the cat that ate the canary.
"What?" Harry asked, taking off his shoes and hanging his coat.
"I cooked," Adam said, still grinning.
"Is it edible?" Harry had learned of Adam's non-existent cooking skills.
"Yeah. I used that thingy, and then I stirred with that other thingy, I'm not sure if I was supposed to use it for that, but... well it tasted fine to me!"
"God, you're just like a pureblood that someone let lose in the muggle world," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Yep!" Adam agreed cheerfully, and Harry froze. Adam was still bustling around the kitchen, not acting as though anything unusual had happened.
Was he just not listening to me, and was agreeing to nothing? Harry wondered, Or did he understand what I was saying and not think anything of his understanding?
*****
Five Words That I Know but Don't Understand
* Pureblood
* Slytherin
* Quidditch
* Muggle
* Snitch
*****
Snape had entered the house a few times, briefly. Remus was always present, and Harry got the feeling that he was protecting Snape from Harry. Every time Snape came close to him, Harry felt his blood boil, his temper flare, the raw hurt inside of him screaming in accusation at the greasy man.
The first time he'd showed up, Harry had him at wand-point within seconds. "How dare you," he'd hissed, pushing the wand against Snape's pale throat, "How dare you show your face here?"
Remus had pulled him away gently. Harry, shaking violently, had tried to get back to the man, but Draco (who was watching from the doorway, still silent) had put a cool hand on Harry's arm.
"It's okay," Remus had said to Harry, "Dumbledore was dying anyway. It was a slow and painful death. Severus put him out of his misery - at his wish, Harry, please understand - and saved face with the Death Eaters. No one doubts him now."
"I do!" Harry had cried out, wrenching away from Draco.
"I don't care," Snape had responded hotly, done being silent, "You must put your anger aside and listen to me now. You were always a foolish Gryffindor, too hot-headed and impudent to -."
"I won't listen!" Harry had yelled, "I don't believe you! You killed him right in front of me! I heard him beg you to spare him! Nothing you can say is going to change that!" He stopped and took a step forward. "I'm going upstairs. If you're not gone when I come down, you'd best be prepared to defend yourself. There's nothing more I want right now than to see you dead."
He turned and headed upstairs, aware of Malfoy's eyes trained on him the entire time. It was hours before he stopped shaking. Ron came and knocked on his door before dinner.
"Snape said-."
"I don't care, unless they were his last words," Harry had said bitterly.
"He found two horcruxes."
Harry froze.
"One was the snake - the one that bit my dad. The second was Hufflepuff's goblet."
Harry looked at Ron silently for a moment. "Is he still here?"
Ron nodded.
"I'll talk to him."
The snake was dead - Snape's doing ("Pretty good at killing things, aren't you?" Harry had sneered, feeling the hatred curling inside of himself) - and the cup was on the table between them.
Harry had destroyed it the next day. Malfoy had watched from across the room, silent and still.
Saturday, April 15th, 2000
Harry wasn't speaking to anyone in his wing of the office building, and Adam had cleared almost a quarter of the shelves in the little shop. Large piles of items that belonged together littered the floor.
"I don't feel like cooking," Harry announced, "What do you say we get cleaned up and go out for dinner?"
"Yeah, that's fine," Adam agreed amiably.
"There's a pretty good seafood restaurant about five blocks down, would that work?"
"I refuse to eat fish," Adam said flatly.
Harry sighed. "Steak, then?"
"That'd do."
*****
"You didn't tell me that this place was fancy," Adam hissed irritably, as the waiter seated them at a table near the back of the restaurant.
"The seafood place was casual," Harry said, "It's not my fault you ruined that."
"I hate seafood!" Adam looked around - expensive looking artwork lined the walls, a live harpist played in the far corner, and the ceiling was painted a sky blue, with little cherubs winking down at him. Everyone around them was dressed in tuxedos and dresses.
Adam was in a pair of jeans (with a hole, no less), and a loose tee shirt. Harry was wearing... a suit?
"You were so not wearing that when we left the house!" Adam objected.
"You just weren't paying attention to me," Harry dismissed, "It's not my fault you've only got ragged clothes."
"I don't seem to remember you ever dressing better than this! At least my jeans fit me!" Adam retorted, and both he and Harry froze.
"I... I don't know why I said that," Adam said unsurely, "It didn't make sense at all."
They looked at each other uneasily, and the waiter made his way over. Harry glanced at the menu and ordered a wine, glancing at Adam for a sign of approval or disapproval. Adam merely shrugged. Harry then opened the menu and pointed at something, repeating it to the waiter, who wrote it down.
Aha. Just tell the man what I want. I can handle that.
He flipped open the menu and glanced at it. "Er... I'll have... the duck."
Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but refrained from comment until the waiter walked away.
"Duck?"
"I like duck," Adam said defensively, and Harry grimaced.
"Do you realize that ducks eat fish, and so you are therefore eating them too?"
A bottle of wine appeared next to Harry's head and Adam realized the waiter had returned. Harry tasted a sip of it and nodded at the waiter, who poured them both glasses and went away again. Adam started up where they had left off.
"Just because you have no class-,"
"I'm not the one in jeans."
"You didn't tell me-,"
The waiter was back with their salads, placing one in front of Harry and one in front of Adam.
"It doesn't matter. You're clearly out of place here."
Adam looked Harry up and down, and smirked. "You're using the wrong fork."
Harry looked down at his hands. "I am not!"
"You are too! That's clearly not the salad fork!"
Harry gaped at Adam. "It is too! You start with the one in the middle!"
Adam snorted. "Where on earth did you learn that one? Did you grow up with heathens?"
Harry scowled and put down the erroneous fork. "Which one is it then?"
Adam picked up his salad fork, and took a bite of his salad. "Food always tastes better if eaten with the correct utensils."
"That's bollocks."
"Such language does not belong in a place of such high class," Adam chastised.
"Are you trying to get me back for not warning you about the clothes?"
"Duh."
*****
Ron, Hermione, and Harry sat at a table in the library with a piece of parchment in front of them. Hermione had her nose in a book, and Harry was mulling over the parchment, and Ron was ripping pieces of paper out of book corners and throwing them at Malfoy's head.
Draco, for his part, kept silent.
"I just don't get it," Harry said. "Where the hell could the original necklace be? Who the hell was R.A.B.?"
Draco muttered something and Harry whipped around to look at him. Ron pegged Malfoy in the forehead again.
"Ronald, please, act your age!" Hermione scolded, and Ron turned to look at Harry for support, but Harry was looking at him fiercely.
"Don't look at me like that, you're scary!" Ron laughed.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I am not."
"You are. Truly." To prove his point, Ron called to some Order members who were in the hallway. "Oi! Guys! Isn't Harry terrifying?"
Luckily for Ron, Tonks answered. "I'm positively shaking!"
Draco frowned. "I'm not afraid of you, Potter." With that, he stood up and headed out towards the stairs. Harry pushed his chair out frantically and followed him.
"Funny," Ron muttered, "He's the one person who probably should be."
Out in the hallway, Harry roughly grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him back. "What did you say in there?"
"I said I'm not scared of you," Draco retorted, clearly expecting a conflict similar to those back at school. He had forgotten that the mindless days of childhood rivalries were long gone - these were the days of war.
"No, before that. When I said something about R.A.B. You said a name. What did you say?"
Harry was frantic.
Draco looked at him evenly for a moment. "Regulus. Augustus. Black."
Harry went still. "My god, the locket. We threw it away when we were cleaning the house!"
"Locket?" Draco asked innocently, reaching into his pocket, "You mean this one?" He held his hand up, and swinging back and forth like a pendulum of temptation on a long, silver chain was Slytherin's locket.
Author: Elle_S_Shadow
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry Potter doesn't like to have much to do with the wizarding world - not after he lost so much in the war. He takes comfort in hiding his life behind the excuse of his mysterious and secretive muggle roommate, Adam Coorfly. But when he starts to let himself live again, he uncovers secrets about his past and learns that sometimes fate can be right in front of you.
Beta: cynikal_lemon
Notes: I started writing this before Deathly Hallows came out. Then Deathly Hallows came out and I tried to throw in a few details from it here and there. So anything in my plot that you recognize from Deathly Hallows probably IS from Deathly Hallows. Lovely. Also, needless to say, but this goes AU after Half-Blood Prince. This fic is finished and will be updated weekly.
Part One
Part Two
Thursday, April 13th 2000
Five Things I'm Afraid Of
* Losing my job
* Making Harry angry and getting kicked out
* Really big dogs
* Even more so, strangely, if they're black and hairy
* Never ever remembering who I am
The clock on the bedside table started beeping, and Adam got up from the desk where his typewriter was sitting and hit the button to turn the clock off.
He'd been awake for about an hour, nervous about his first day of work.
He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering again that he needed to cut it. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes back on. He glanced at the clock. It read 6:32.
He left the flat and headed down the street to Ragamuffins. He really wanted a coffee, but he had no money. He'd have to see how far he could get on charm.
It was nearly empty, again. The only person in there was a young man about Adam's age, and a young woman across the table from him. They were talking in hushed tones, so Adam went straight to the counter.
The woman behind the counter was the one Harry had upset the previous day, and Adam saw that her name tag read "Amelia".
"Hello there, Amelia," He said, smiling brightly.
"Well hello there," She smiled back impishly. "Aren't you the fellow who stole my room?"
"That I am," Adam gave a sheepish grin. "Terribly sorry about that. No hard feelings?"
"'Course not," Amelia said, "I don't even know your name, I can't rightly be angry with you."
"My name," Adam said in a conspiratorial tone, "is Adam Coorfly. And I've got a problem."
"What's that, Mr. Coorfly?"
"Adam, please," he said in a playfully scolding tone. "I desperately need a cup of coffee. The problem is it's my first day of work, and so I've not yet been paid, and therefore cannot afford to buy myself coffee."
"That's quite a dilemma," Amelia said. "And I think I've got a solution. I give you a coffee, and you go out to dinner with me sometime."
Adam grinned. "I would, of course, truly appreciate your company and companionship, but I must warn you before you can accuse me of leading you on - you aren't exactly my type."
"What's your type, then?" Amelia asked, looking momentarily put out.
"Him," Adam jerked a thumb back towards the young man, "But it doesn't appear that I'm his type. Shame, that." That fact was another one of those little details he could remember about himself. It seemed to still hold true pretty well.
Amelia gaped at him for a moment, before a dangerously gleeful grin crossed her face. "And you're rooming with Harry?" she asked.
"Yes?"
She grinned even wider, if possible. "So are we on for dinner anyway?" She asked.
"Not tonight. You'll see me often, I can imagine. We'll work something out."
"Of course," she smiled at him, and he nodded his thanks to her, eyed the unfortunately straight young man one last time, and exited the cafe.
*****
The day at the shop dragged on. There were three costumers, and no one bought anything. Adam spent the morning taking inventory around the shop. He was enthralled with all of the strange devices. He had no idea what most of them did, or how they worked, but as long as he knew their price, it didn't seem to matter.
The day dragged by. The shop was filled to the brim with ancient things, and held a musty odor. It was hard to walk through the store, things were simply tossed hither and thither, with no real purpose. An elderly woman had asked him where to locate something and he had to stifle his response of "Lady, even if I knew what that was, I'd never be able to find it." He instead told her he wasn't quite sure if their last one had been sold off or not, and that she was free to look around.
By one o'clock, when Mr. Fields came down and took over for a few hours, Adam was desperate for human contact. So when he went back to the flat and found it empty, he was highly disappointed.
Adam, a note on the counter said, I'll be home around four. You can scrounge around the freezer for something for lunch, or go out and get something. I left the Pizza menu out - they deliver, you just have to tell them the apartment number.
"I don't know how to talk to the pizza people," Adam grumbled, and opened the freezer. It was empty. Adam sighed and slipped his coat back on.
*****
"Is Amelia working?" Adam asked the young man behind the counter.
"Her shift ended at eleven," the man said, "Can I help you?"
"I reallllllllly need to talk to Amelia," Adam said, and realized that he was whining. Whining well.
The man rolled his eyes. "Are you planning on ordering anything, sir?"
"No," Adam said petulantly, "I want Amelia."
"Too bad," the man finally snapped, "Can I please help next the next customer?"
Just then Adam heard footsteps coming down the stairs at the far end of the cafe, and a young woman waved at the cashier.
"Hey! Kate!" The cashier called, and the girl stopped, looking at him expectantly.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Oh," She said, looking a little put out, "Amelia and I just planned to see a show tonight." She jerked her thumb back towards the stairs.
Adam smiled to himself and made his way to the stairs, climbing up.
There was a strange button next to the door, and he frowned at it. People had such a button thing. Everything worked with buttons.
He pushed the button and said to it, "I need Amelia."
The door opened a few seconds later, and Adam grinned at her.
"Adam?" She asked, clearly surprised.
"Is it a bad time?" He didn't wait for any answer before blurting out, "I need to eat and I can't figure out how to work anything in Harry's flat!"
Amelia blinked at him once, twice, and burst out laughing.
"It's not funny!" Adam cried, "I'm starving!"
"Come in, come in," she said, still laughing, stepping back to let him into the tiny flat.
He entered the room sheepishly, and she motioned for him to follow her and headed towards her tiny kitchen.
"Grilled cheese?" she offered.
"Lovely," Adam picked it up from the plate. "Were you expecting company? You made quite a few."
"I eat a lot," Amelia grinned, "And I usually then save leftovers for dinner."
"S'not a bad idea," Adam said agreeably, and then casually added, "Does this count as our dinner date?"
"Only if you come back tomorrow," Amelia grinned.
"I think I can handle that."
"So how's everything?" Amelia asked, looked at him over her own half-eaten grilled cheese.
Adam looked at her for a moment. She was very pretty, he noticed, with a small face, and black spiked hair. She was perched on the edge of the counter, her ankles crossed and legs swinging, her heels thumping against the cupboards below with each swing.
"Everything is grand," he said, with a raised eyebrow, "I can't remember anything about myself, I'm living with a perfect stranger, I can't figure out how to work anything, my job makes me claustrophobic, and my only friend is some girl with terrible fashion sense."
Amelia cocked her head to the side. "Can't remember anything?"
Adam took another big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm an amnesia victim. But Harry doesn't know."
Amelia's grin grew even wider. "That is so cool!" She cried, "So, like, do you have any idea what anything is?"
"No," Adam said sourly.
She laughed, throwing her head back.
She hopped up from the counter and pulled something from the wall. "This," she said, "is a telephone. You press those little buttons, and it connects you to who you want to talk to." She pulled something out of her back pocket. "This is a mobile. It does the same thing, except it goes everywhere with you. We should get you one!"
"Sure..." Adam said faintly.
She continued in a likewise fashion, explaining almost everything in her tiny flat, right down to the loo.
"I know how to use that," Adam scowled, which only made her laugh again. Being with Amelia was easy, and truly enjoyable, he found.
Sitting on her couch, watching a box she called a "telly", he said, "So how's 'everything' with you, hmm?"
Amelia pursed her lips in amusement. "Well, my job blows, I've been kicked out of my old apartment because the man I love thinks I party too hard, I now have to rent this tiny piece of shit, and my newest friend is the twerp that said love-of-my-life kicked me out for."
Adam tried to feel bad, truly, but he could only laugh. Amelia kind of did that to him.
*****
When Harry returned at four and found the flat empty, he frowned, but didn't think much of it. Adam was probably exploring the town.
When five o'clock came and went, Harry began to feel a little bit uneasy.
By six o'clock, as he made himself dinner, he was worried.
When, at seven, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and - of all vile things - Amelia's laughter, he was furious.
The door opened, and Harry caught a glimpse of Adam's rusty hair. "Tomorrow then?"
"Absolutely," Harry heard Amelia say, "Do you remember how to work it?"
"I push this button, I say your name, and it goes straight to you," Adam recited, and Harry twisted his mouth in confusion.
Amelia left, and Adam entered the sitting room.
"Er..." he said, glancing at Harry and then at the clock, having the grace to look sheepish, "Sorry about that. I hope I didn't worry you."
"I'd just hoped you hadn't gotten murdered down in town," Harry said coolly.
"Would it help if I said it won't happen again?" Adam asked, "Amelia helped me get a mobile, so now you can just call to see where I am. I need to put your number in there so I can warn you if I'll be late."
"That'd be fine," Harry agreed.
"I would like to point out, however, that I am your flat-mate, and not your foster child. I'm a grown man, and I really don't have to tell you where I am, I just do it out of courtesy." Adam kept his tone polite, but it was clear he was agitated.
"You're right," Harry said, looking down at his hands, "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Adam said, and headed down the hallway to his room.
*****
Late one night Harry woke up, for no reason that he could find. The house was dark and silent, and he hadn't been having a nightmare. With a sigh, he pushed the blankets off and slid into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, standing and heading towards the door. He needed some water.
The hallway was lit by a small lamp on a table at the far end, leaving certain patches a yellowy glow, while the rest was pitched in darkness. Harry started making his way towards the stairs, when he ran into something solid.
He couldn't help it. He screamed. Loudly.
He pushed instinctively and grabbed for his wand as doors along the hall flew open.
It was Malfoy looking at him like her were a total ninny.
"Alright, Harry?" someone called.
"Fine!" he called back, "Go back to sleep, everyone. Sorry. Saw a mouse."
The doors shut again, and he swore he heard someone mutter 'Fucking Chosen One afraid of a mouse. We're screwed.'
He looked at Draco and opened his mouth to say 'What the hell are you doing lurking outside my bedroom in the middle of the fucking night?' and instead blurted, "Do you ever sleep?"
Draco looked at him evenly. "Not in this house."
"Oh, so you can talk," Harry said. "What's the matter, afraid the boogie-man's going to pop out of the closet?"
"More like my father or the Dark Lord, actually. The boogie-man's not so bad."
Harry nodded. "Is your father...?"
"What?" Draco pushed himself angrily off of the wall that he had been leaning on, and looked straight at Harry. "Is he what?"
"Is he on your side, or Voldemort's?"
Draco flinched. "Why do you do that? Do you just have to prove that you're big and brave?"
"What?"
"Saying his name. We get it, Potter. You're fantastic. You don't have to try and prove it."
"I'm not proving anything. I didn't grow up fearing the name like you did. It's just a name to me."
Draco looked at him for a moment, and then turned away, heading back downstairs. Harry sat on the top step. Draco never did answer his question.
Friday, April 14th, 2000
"You look angry," Hermione greeted Harry the next day on his way into his office.
"I'm not," Harry grumbled.
"What's the matter?"
"Adam's got a new friend." Harry sighed and sat down on the edge of Hermione desk.
Hermione looked at him calculatingly. "Well, you're either extremely jealous that it's not you - which I wouldn't understand since he's been in your flat for two days, or it's someone you're not overly fond of."
"It's Amelia," Harry admitted.
Hermione snickered into her hand, and Harry sent her a dark look.
"There's a meeting at three today, Harry," Hermione told him suddenly, getting back into business-mode.
"Who with?"
Hermione grimaced. "It's a sort of... intervention type thing. They're worried about you."
"So they're going to make it all better by being sweet and comforting and nurturing, right?" Harry snorted, "What are they going to do, threaten to fire me if I don't put more voice in the forms that I fill out?"
"Now Harry," Hermione chastised, "They're just concerned about you, like I am. They just want to see you alive again."
Harry placed his hands roughly onto her desk. "Maybe, just maybe, if I was doing something at this job besides sitting at a desk watching my life tick away, you'd see a bit more life. Give me some hands-on jobs! Let me go out in the field! Let me do something! You won't see any life until they let me live!"
Hermione looked at him for a moment, her face tight, but her lips twisting into a grimace. "So tell them that, Harry," she said, "and see what they tell you."
*****
Adam strummed his fingers along the top of the desk, and glanced, again, at the clock. The hand hadn't moved since the last time he'd looked.
He sighed heavily, and decided to clear the desk. It was piled with loads and loads of stuff.
He got all of the papers into a pile, all of the pens and scissors and tape into another, and placed the pile of random items on the floor next to the desk. He opened a drawer and placed all the pens and things in it, and put the papers into another. Already he felt like he could breathe easier in the old shop.
He spun the swivel chair around and faced the selves on the wall behind him. He stood up and started pulling things off the shelves, making piles of items based on what they seemed to do.
It took him all day to clear and sort that small section of shelving, but Adam felt oddly accomplished as he closed up shop. As he went to exit the shop, he turned around and looked at the desk. It, and the area behind and around it, were clean and organized. Adam smiled and left.
*****
"What did they say?" Hermione asked, as Harry made his way back from the staff room to his office to close up.
"You know what they said," Harry muttered.
Hermione frowned. "I really do feel for you, Harry, but I can't say I don't see where they're coming from. We've gone over this befor-."
"Too many times," Harry agreed, interrupting her, "You can tell me again and again to stop 'hiding', or running, or whatever, and I'll listen. But I don't see it as hiding, Hermione. I'm just surviving. I have to survive... for those that didn't. Because it's my fault they didn't."
Hermione shook her head.
Harry sighed. "We have this argument a lot."
"You're letting the war ruin your life."
"At least I've got a life after the war. It's more than I can say for most of the people on our side."
Hermione remained silent, everything quiet but for her quill scratching as she filled out something or another. Even at the height of an argument, Hermione was working diligently.
"Ron and I made it out alive, Harry, shouldn't you count that as a blessing?"
Harry looked at her. "I thank whatever deity exists every single day for that. But it doesn't mean we didn't lose anyone I cared about. What about Ginny? You didn't see that, Hermione. That spell hit her like a freight train. When I ran over to her body, she seemed fine - not even a bruise where she landed. But then she opened her eyes... and they went blank. There was nothing there. For a split second as she opened them, I saw Ginny, and the next second... she wasn't there."
"Harry, I-."
"What about Seamus and Dean? Colin Creevey told the Death Eaters their location when questioned about me. They didn't even get the choice of whether or not they were willing to die in my place."
"The Creeveys were-."
"What about Draco Malfoy? He fought on our side of the war in that final battle. He died for our side."
Hermione looked at him evenly. "You've got to stop blaming yourself for that, Harry. You couldn't save Draco Malfoy. That's okay."
"What about Tonks? What about Remus?"
"Harry, I-."
"I'm trying, Hermione," Harry pleaded.
"I know you're trying, Harry," Hermione said, her voice finally gentler, "But your trying is more like pretending."
*****
When Harry returned to the apartment that night, stony and furious, Adam was grinning at him from the couch like the cat that ate the canary.
"What?" Harry asked, taking off his shoes and hanging his coat.
"I cooked," Adam said, still grinning.
"Is it edible?" Harry had learned of Adam's non-existent cooking skills.
"Yeah. I used that thingy, and then I stirred with that other thingy, I'm not sure if I was supposed to use it for that, but... well it tasted fine to me!"
"God, you're just like a pureblood that someone let lose in the muggle world," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Yep!" Adam agreed cheerfully, and Harry froze. Adam was still bustling around the kitchen, not acting as though anything unusual had happened.
Was he just not listening to me, and was agreeing to nothing? Harry wondered, Or did he understand what I was saying and not think anything of his understanding?
*****
Five Words That I Know but Don't Understand
* Pureblood
* Slytherin
* Quidditch
* Muggle
* Snitch
*****
Snape had entered the house a few times, briefly. Remus was always present, and Harry got the feeling that he was protecting Snape from Harry. Every time Snape came close to him, Harry felt his blood boil, his temper flare, the raw hurt inside of him screaming in accusation at the greasy man.
The first time he'd showed up, Harry had him at wand-point within seconds. "How dare you," he'd hissed, pushing the wand against Snape's pale throat, "How dare you show your face here?"
Remus had pulled him away gently. Harry, shaking violently, had tried to get back to the man, but Draco (who was watching from the doorway, still silent) had put a cool hand on Harry's arm.
"It's okay," Remus had said to Harry, "Dumbledore was dying anyway. It was a slow and painful death. Severus put him out of his misery - at his wish, Harry, please understand - and saved face with the Death Eaters. No one doubts him now."
"I do!" Harry had cried out, wrenching away from Draco.
"I don't care," Snape had responded hotly, done being silent, "You must put your anger aside and listen to me now. You were always a foolish Gryffindor, too hot-headed and impudent to -."
"I won't listen!" Harry had yelled, "I don't believe you! You killed him right in front of me! I heard him beg you to spare him! Nothing you can say is going to change that!" He stopped and took a step forward. "I'm going upstairs. If you're not gone when I come down, you'd best be prepared to defend yourself. There's nothing more I want right now than to see you dead."
He turned and headed upstairs, aware of Malfoy's eyes trained on him the entire time. It was hours before he stopped shaking. Ron came and knocked on his door before dinner.
"Snape said-."
"I don't care, unless they were his last words," Harry had said bitterly.
"He found two horcruxes."
Harry froze.
"One was the snake - the one that bit my dad. The second was Hufflepuff's goblet."
Harry looked at Ron silently for a moment. "Is he still here?"
Ron nodded.
"I'll talk to him."
The snake was dead - Snape's doing ("Pretty good at killing things, aren't you?" Harry had sneered, feeling the hatred curling inside of himself) - and the cup was on the table between them.
Harry had destroyed it the next day. Malfoy had watched from across the room, silent and still.
Saturday, April 15th, 2000
Harry wasn't speaking to anyone in his wing of the office building, and Adam had cleared almost a quarter of the shelves in the little shop. Large piles of items that belonged together littered the floor.
"I don't feel like cooking," Harry announced, "What do you say we get cleaned up and go out for dinner?"
"Yeah, that's fine," Adam agreed amiably.
"There's a pretty good seafood restaurant about five blocks down, would that work?"
"I refuse to eat fish," Adam said flatly.
Harry sighed. "Steak, then?"
"That'd do."
*****
"You didn't tell me that this place was fancy," Adam hissed irritably, as the waiter seated them at a table near the back of the restaurant.
"The seafood place was casual," Harry said, "It's not my fault you ruined that."
"I hate seafood!" Adam looked around - expensive looking artwork lined the walls, a live harpist played in the far corner, and the ceiling was painted a sky blue, with little cherubs winking down at him. Everyone around them was dressed in tuxedos and dresses.
Adam was in a pair of jeans (with a hole, no less), and a loose tee shirt. Harry was wearing... a suit?
"You were so not wearing that when we left the house!" Adam objected.
"You just weren't paying attention to me," Harry dismissed, "It's not my fault you've only got ragged clothes."
"I don't seem to remember you ever dressing better than this! At least my jeans fit me!" Adam retorted, and both he and Harry froze.
"I... I don't know why I said that," Adam said unsurely, "It didn't make sense at all."
They looked at each other uneasily, and the waiter made his way over. Harry glanced at the menu and ordered a wine, glancing at Adam for a sign of approval or disapproval. Adam merely shrugged. Harry then opened the menu and pointed at something, repeating it to the waiter, who wrote it down.
Aha. Just tell the man what I want. I can handle that.
He flipped open the menu and glanced at it. "Er... I'll have... the duck."
Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but refrained from comment until the waiter walked away.
"Duck?"
"I like duck," Adam said defensively, and Harry grimaced.
"Do you realize that ducks eat fish, and so you are therefore eating them too?"
A bottle of wine appeared next to Harry's head and Adam realized the waiter had returned. Harry tasted a sip of it and nodded at the waiter, who poured them both glasses and went away again. Adam started up where they had left off.
"Just because you have no class-,"
"I'm not the one in jeans."
"You didn't tell me-,"
The waiter was back with their salads, placing one in front of Harry and one in front of Adam.
"It doesn't matter. You're clearly out of place here."
Adam looked Harry up and down, and smirked. "You're using the wrong fork."
Harry looked down at his hands. "I am not!"
"You are too! That's clearly not the salad fork!"
Harry gaped at Adam. "It is too! You start with the one in the middle!"
Adam snorted. "Where on earth did you learn that one? Did you grow up with heathens?"
Harry scowled and put down the erroneous fork. "Which one is it then?"
Adam picked up his salad fork, and took a bite of his salad. "Food always tastes better if eaten with the correct utensils."
"That's bollocks."
"Such language does not belong in a place of such high class," Adam chastised.
"Are you trying to get me back for not warning you about the clothes?"
"Duh."
*****
Ron, Hermione, and Harry sat at a table in the library with a piece of parchment in front of them. Hermione had her nose in a book, and Harry was mulling over the parchment, and Ron was ripping pieces of paper out of book corners and throwing them at Malfoy's head.
Draco, for his part, kept silent.
"I just don't get it," Harry said. "Where the hell could the original necklace be? Who the hell was R.A.B.?"
Draco muttered something and Harry whipped around to look at him. Ron pegged Malfoy in the forehead again.
"Ronald, please, act your age!" Hermione scolded, and Ron turned to look at Harry for support, but Harry was looking at him fiercely.
"Don't look at me like that, you're scary!" Ron laughed.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I am not."
"You are. Truly." To prove his point, Ron called to some Order members who were in the hallway. "Oi! Guys! Isn't Harry terrifying?"
Luckily for Ron, Tonks answered. "I'm positively shaking!"
Draco frowned. "I'm not afraid of you, Potter." With that, he stood up and headed out towards the stairs. Harry pushed his chair out frantically and followed him.
"Funny," Ron muttered, "He's the one person who probably should be."
Out in the hallway, Harry roughly grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him back. "What did you say in there?"
"I said I'm not scared of you," Draco retorted, clearly expecting a conflict similar to those back at school. He had forgotten that the mindless days of childhood rivalries were long gone - these were the days of war.
"No, before that. When I said something about R.A.B. You said a name. What did you say?"
Harry was frantic.
Draco looked at him evenly for a moment. "Regulus. Augustus. Black."
Harry went still. "My god, the locket. We threw it away when we were cleaning the house!"
"Locket?" Draco asked innocently, reaching into his pocket, "You mean this one?" He held his hand up, and swinging back and forth like a pendulum of temptation on a long, silver chain was Slytherin's locket.