Harry Potter Oneshots

Moving Out

Harry bounced his foot anxiously in a frantic rhythm, his gaze sliding back and forth across the unknown landscape. The streets on either side were lined with small shops and apartments, the small crevices between them creating a warren of alleyways perfect for apparating into in the midst of the muggle town. Benches were placed sporadically along the street and it was on one of these that Harry sat waiting in the shadow of the giant abandoned warehouse that stood before him.

Though of course, it only looked like an abandoned warehouse. Even on the inside, muggles would enter and see a small closet-like room with walls covered in hastily nailed wooden slats crossing over each other in ill-planned x's, practically screaming caution and warnings. But if someone with magical blood entered, they would also see a green banner stretched loosely across the back wall with 'Holyhead Harpies' written across it in golden letters. If they were to tap their wand to a particular wooden panel, the entire back wall would open up like a door. Yet the building itself had been a part of this town for so long that apparently, none of the muggles who lived here gave it a second thought anymore. They passed in front of and behind Harry with nothing more than a polite smile or nod in his direction, not sparing a minute glance at the warehouse. Harry couldn't find the energy within him to respond back after the first two or three times given that most of his focus was being taken up by constant surveillance. The hand gripping his wand beneath his flannel was sweaty and tense, yet he couldn't let the muscles release. His heart was hammering in his chest, certain that someone would attack at any moment.

The logical part of his brain knew that he was perfectly safe. The war had ended over a year ago. He was in the middle of an unassuming muggle town doing nothing suspicious except waiting for his girlfriend. Yet some part of him–some stubborn, persistent part–had somehow claimed control over his body and told him that it was crucial to stay alert.

So when the front doors of the warehouse opened, a bolt of adrenaline coursed through his veins, but no silver-masked Death Eaters emerged. Only a small clump of young women with bags slung over their shoulders walked out, laughing over something that they clearly found hilarious.

Harry's heart slowed as he caught sight of a flash of red hair and heard a snort amidst the laughter. He smiled to himself and rose from the bench, leaving his wand tucked into his inner pocket and wiping the sweat off on his jeans.

He watched as Ginny waved good-bye to the others and headed in his direction. She lifted a hand in greeting and jogged lightly over to him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming, the same as they had been every night after she finished a long day of try-outs.

"Hey Gin," he grinned, stretching an arm out to embrace her.

She smiled back, but shook her head, holding up a hand in warning. "I don't think you want to do that. I'm so sweaty that even I can smell it."

Harry shrugged and swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close nonetheless and kissing the top of her head. "Worth it."

She rolled her eyes, but wrapped an arm around his waist all the same. She dove headfirst into a summary of the last day of the try-out week as they walked to the nearest alley.

"So once we finished the last actual practice exercise for the day, Wanda–you know, the hiring manager–" Ginny explained with a careless wave of her hand, dropping her bag onto the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place once they had apparated back "--called all of the trainees into her office and said that they would let us know by owl once she had made the final decision and to expect it no earlier than next week. She's going to talk to the coaches and the other players to try and see who will be the best fit for the team. But I think I might actually have a chance!"