Roommate Wanted

Harry took out the last book from the box and placed it on his new shelf (thank you, Ikea!). He stepped back into the living room and looked around proudly.

"All done!" he exclaimed. "Thanks for your help, guys!"

"No problem, mate!" Ron said from his place at the dining table next to Dean, lifting up his bottle of beer.

"Hah! You barely did anything!" Hermione said as she emerged from the kitchen, her tank top covered in dust.

"I....brought the alcohol!" Ron exclaimed as he gestured to the carton of beer on the floor. "You can keep the rest, Harry. House-warming present."

"Thanks, but I think you should take it home. I'm trying to avoid beer, there's too many calories," Harry said as he wandered over to the huge, floor to ceiling glass windows, framed by dark blue curtains, and gazed out to the view of London. Below him, the bustling crowds walked to and fro, past the windows of the shops and cafés across the road. Harry eyed the cute guy in the tight jeans strolling past the little boutique on the corner.

"God, I love this place!" he sang, twirling around on the smooth hardwood floors. He dropped down on the seat next to Ron and summoned a bottle of champagne and four glasses from the kitchen.

"I think my gorgeous new apartment deserves a toast!" Harry announced as he poured out the champagne.

"To Harry's apartment!" they toasted.

"So, when are you putting out the ad for a roommate?" Dean asked as he took a sip.

"Umm...dunno. As soon as I write it," Harry replied, refilling his glass.

"Last week, you said you already wrote it," Hermione said, eyes narrowing.

Harry cursed inwardly and damned Hermione's leak-proof memory.

"Yeah, well, I got distracted," Harry murmured.

"By what?"

"Uh, I went to buy more ink and the cute guy working there asked me out," Harry said. "I'll do it tonight. If I remember."

"Remind me again, why do you want a roommate? You could have this all to yourself!" Ron said, spreading out his arms.

"Urgh, it's just too quiet. I need noise, music, people, dancing.....alcohol," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

"I plan to make this party central!"

That night, Harry slammed his iPod into the speakers, thankful that his apartment could accommodate both magical and Muggle elements. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat down with a quill at the coffee table. He tapped the quill against the tabletop, thinking. Slowly and carefully, he wrote across the top of the parchment, 'ROOMMATE WANTED.'

"Hmm, what next?" he wondered aloud.

He thought for a while, then wrote: 'Preferably male wizard in early 20's, easy-going, fun-seeker, must be able to tolerate loud music, late nights, parties, cigarette smoke and alcohol. NO PETS.'

Under that, Harry wrote down his contact details. He read through the ad twice, and when satisfied, used his wand to multiply it into 400 copies.

He lit up a cigarette and inhaled it slowly while he dialled Hermione's number on his phone, inviting her to help him put up the ads around town. After she agreed, and offered to call Ron and Dean to help, Harry glanced at the clock. 10pm. Perfect. His favourite nightclub was just opening. Harry sprinted into his bedroom to get changed. Party time!

Knock, knock, knock! Harry groaned and rolled over in bed as some idiot repeatedly pounded on his front door. He carefully got out of bed, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar feeling of a hangover. Head pounding and eyes half-closed, Harry made his way slowly to the door and wrenched it open, revealing a disgruntled Hermione, and behind her, Ron.

"What the hell, Harry? It's 10.30! I've been knocking for half an hour!" Hermione yelled.

Harry rested his head against the doorframe.

"Sorry, guys, I was up late last night," he rasped.

"It's okay, mate, I just came," Ron replied sheepishly.

Dean came running up the stairs.

"Morning, guys! Geez, Harry, you look like shit! What did you do last night?" he exclaimed in a cheery voice.

"Haha, what else? Dancing and drinking til 2am at Lumos, of course," Hermione replied, naming Harry's favourite club.

Harry shuffled towards the kitchen and rummaged around in a cupboard looking for his ever-ready supply of Hangover-Gone Potions. He uncorked a small vial and gulped it down in one swallow. He sighed in relief as he felt the effects work immediately. He returned to the living room where his best friends were reading his ad, and collapsed on the couch.

"It was actually 3am, Mione," Harry corrected Hermione's last statement with a lazy grin.

"Wizard male, fun-seeker, able to tolerate parties and alcohol? Are you looking for a roommate or a boyfriend, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I wouldn't complain if we were perfectly compatible," Harry said.

The group spent the rest of the day putting up ads in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital, and other magical hang-outs around town.

During the next two weeks, the application forms started coming in. One night, Harry invited his friends over to help choose his new roommate. They divided up the forms into four piles and began sifting through them. Ron poked at the small slip of pink paper covering each applicant's name.

"Why did you cover the names, Harry?" he asked.

"Oh, I paid my colleague to put Post-its over each name. Just in case it's someone I know, or the name is really retarded. Remember the time that guy named Farconius asked me out, and I turned him down? I don't want to be biased," Harry said, sniggering as he reminiscenced.

"Yes, Farconius didn't ever speak to me again after that fix-up," Dean said, glancing at Harry.

They sorted through the forms, placing most of them in the 'Reject' pile.

"Oh my god, this guy is sixty years old!"

"Squib."

"Allergic to alcohol."

"Owns four dogs and five cats."

"Did no-one read the ad?!" Harry cried out, exasperated.

He picked up the last form in his pile, feeling little hope. He stared reading through it, and immediately sat up.

"Hey, listen to this! Male wizard, 25 years old - my age, works as head chef in posh Muggle restaurant, hobbies - cooking, partying, listening to music, preferably rock, and inventing cocktails. This guy is perfect!" Harry said excitedly.

Hermione took the form and studied it.

"Wow, he must be good. This restaurant is very highly rated. It's won loads of awards," she said.

"Well, it looks like we found my roommate!" Harry said. "What's his name? Please, please, please let it be normal!"

"Oooh, can I do it, Harry?" Hermione squealed.

"Go for it!"

Hermione pulled of the post-it slowly and dramatically. Her eyes widened as she read the name. She looked up at Harry.

"Well? What's his name?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Draco Malfoy."