Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. Or Harry Potter (just saying).

A/N: This is a USUK friendship story, and isn't meant to be yaoi or shonen-ai. Also, I use country names, just because it feels more canon (I've only read the web-comics.) If people would rather I use human names, I can change it; let me know.

A/N 2: This takes place about a year after the "Happy Birthday!" web-comic. I'm dating it 2007, just because it works best for the plot. (I have no idea when the web-comic was written, but in my happy world, it was 2006. :D )

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Chapter 1: The Irritating Former Colony

June 30

England had just sat down with a cup of tea to settle his nerves. He had been feeling unwell for two days now, and this morning he had woken up with a headache that had yet to completely fade, because of drinking too much the night before. He hoped he might be able to distract himself with a good book—something very British, with no mention whatsoever of his irritating former colony—when there was a knock on his front door. Grumbling to himself, he went to answer it, and who should be at the door… but his irritating former colony?

England's stomach clenched and he immediately felt sicker. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

America flinched a little. "Ah… well…." He suddenly looked very nervous, but his smile came back almost immediately. "When you came to my birthday party last year, you said you were sick for a week beforehand every year." He rubbed his neck. "So I thought maybe if I came and took care of you and helped you feel better for a few days, you might feel well enough to come to my party and actually enjoy yourself."

England stared at him. "What on earth are you on about, you git?" he asked. "Why would you even want me to go to your bloody party?"

America shrugged. "I invite you every year."

"Yes, you bloody well do," England huffed. "Rub my face in it every bloody year, what with your stars and stripes all over the invitation—even the bloody envelope…."

America laughed. "Iggy, they all look like that."

"Don't call me that!"

"Fine, Mr. United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Are you going to let me in?"

"No," England replied, and shut the door in his face. He sat back down on the sofa, nerves severely rattled, and took a sip of tea, which had gotten cool. "Bloody hell," he muttered. He was too tired to make another cup of tea. After a minute or so, there was another knock. England pointedly ignored it, and went back to his book.

Five minutes later, his mobile phone vibrated in his pocket, and he opened the text message without thinking to see who it was from. The message read:

Its raining out here.

Bloody git didn't even know how to use punctuation. England sent a message back:

Go home, then.

He received one back almost immediately:

No.

England set the phone on the table and went back to his book. America was not a patient man. He would give up eventually. He read for about fifteen minutes before he noticed the rain was picking up. Sighing, he looked at the door. Surely America had given up by now… and yet….

England got up and quietly went to the door and looked out the peep hole. America was still standing there, trying to keep under the veranda so he would stay dry. The git even had a small suitcase with him, as if he fully expected England to let him stay for several days. The nerve! England huffed a sigh and sat back down. The git could stay there until doomsday for all he cared.

He had barely read a sentence when the rain picked up again, coupled with the wind. He sighed again. This was so bloody irritating, but he couldn't very well leave America to catch a cold. Well, he supposed he could, but then he'd feel guilty, even if it really was America's own bloody fault.

He went to the door and opened it. America looked at him hopefully. "Fine," he said. "You can bloody come in and stay until the rain stops."

"Thanks!" America said fervently, and stepped inside. He took off his shoes and hung up his jacket, which was unusually conscientious of him. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Terrible," England replied, sourly.

"Aww, come on, Iggy, don't be like that. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You can stop calling me that ridiculous nickname to begin with," England said, sitting down with a regretful glance at his book. He massaged his temples. "If you're so anxious to be useful, find me two aspirin and a glass of water. The medicine is above the stove, and the glasses are in the cupboard to the right of the sink."

"Sure thing," America replied, and procured them. "Um… you want some more tea?"

"Do you know how to make tea?" England asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Of course; you taught me."

England remembered. He also remembered the Boston Tea Party, America's first act of rebellion, and his refusal to drink tea afterward. He glared at the coffee table. "Then make me some bloody tea."

America went backing go the kitchen and England hesitantly went back to his book. To his surprise, America came back about fifteen minutes later with a pot of tea, a creamer, a bowl of sugar cubes, and two cups. "Those were dirty," he said.

"I washed them," America replied. He poured each of them a cup of tea and offered England the cream and sugar. England accepted the former and watched America put no less than three sugar cubes in his own tea. Rolling his eyes, England sipped his tea, then looked at it in surprise. It was… good.

"Do you like it?" America asked, sounding a bit nervous.

"It's not bad," England replied after another sip. "How often do you drink tea?"

"Uh…." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, honestly, Canada sort of gave me a refresher course before I came."

This only made England more confused. Why would America have practiced making tea for England?

"I knew how to make a cup already, though," America said, a bit defensively.

"Then why…?"

"I thought you'd like a pot better."

England took another drink of his tea. He did like it better in pots, but hadn't been able to motivate himself to make one. He looked at America over the rim of the cup. When had the obnoxious git become so thoughtful? Realizing he was in danger of being mollified over a simple cup of tea, England set down the cup and looked at America suspiciously. "So, what is this really about?"

"I told you," America replied. "Last year—"

"Yes, I know what you told me," England replied. "And I want to know why you're so eager for me to go to a celebration to commemorate the day you decided you hate me."

"I don't hate you, Ig—England," America said. "I like you."

"Really," England said sarcastically. "Then why this bloody celebration?"

"Because it's my birthday," America said, pleadingly. "It's when I became a country."

"By separating from me."

"Well…." America spread his hands in a "what can I do?" sort of gesture.

"Do you do this to all of your guests who don't show up?" England asked.

"No."

"Why me?"

"Because I want you to come especially."

"Why?"

America paused. "It's… difficult to explain. I'd rather not when you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Angry at me."

"I'm not angry."

"Yeah, you are. We can talk about it later."

"How bloody long do you think you're staying, you git?" England demanded.

America looked out the window and shrugged. He turned to England with a smile that was not quite cheeky. "It's always raining in England."

"It bloody well is not!"

America's smile became gentler. "You're not feeling well. Why don't you relax, drink your tea, and read for a while?"

England blinked. America would let him read? "And what will you do?"

"Also read. I brought a book."

"Really…."

"Oh, and I brought some things for fish and chips… do you mind if I make dinner?"

The words "fish and chips" made England's mouth water, and he frowned at America. "Are you doing all this to avoid being punched?"

America laughed. "No. Though I'd appreciate it."

"Do what you want, just clean up after yourself. And hadn't you better put the fish in the refrigerator?"

"Oh, right, forgot." He went and got the fish and a book out of his suitcase.

"Idiot," England muttered, too quietly for America to hear. He poured himself another cup of tea and opened his book again. America sat down with his book and began to read. England looked over and saw that it was Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Well, at least the git had good taste.

America kept quiet, and England was able to go back to his book and actually enjoy it, particularly with the tea. Aside from refilling the pot, America hardly moved, though he did change from his book to his laptop at some point and asked England for the password to his router. England smiled a little to himself. It was the first time in a very long time he felt relaxed in America's presence.

After a while, America went back into the kitchen, and soon the sounds and smells of cooking came out. England wondered whether he ought to help, then decided not to worry about it. He didn't know when America had started eating fish and chips, and vaguely wondered if this wasn't another thing he'd recently learned from Canada, but America seemed perfectly confident that he could cook it without incident.

America turned out beautiful fish and chips, and England was actually inclined to forgive him for showing up unannounced, particularly when he set the table with wine—that he had brought—and a candle. It all felt so very… orderly and comfortable. Except that sitting across from America was just a bit awkward. He took a bite of his fish and closed his eyes. It was perfect. "Thank you," he said without thinking.

America smiled brightly. "You're welcome."

"Who taught you to make fish and chips?"

"Um… Canada."

England raised an eyebrow. "Did he tell you to come here."

"No." America looked confused by the question.

"All the same, he seems involved."

America shrugged, and looked just a bit… guarded for a moment. But then he shrugged a little. "I told him I thought you weren't feeling well, and asked what he thought would make you feel better. He said you liked tea, fish and chips, and curry rice… which I'll make tomorrow night if you let me stay that long."

England's eyebrow went up again. "Don't push it."

America only smiled a little, as if he knew he'd have his way in the end. England hated to admit it… but he probably would. Oh well… curry rice did sound good. But at the moment, he addressed himself to his fish and chips.

America left the table shortly before they were finished and came back a moment later with a wrapped gift. "This is for you," he said.

England looked at it in confusion. "It's your birthday."

"It's not a birthday present. It's a 'get well soon' present."

Cautiously, England opened it. It seemed to be a DVD. When he pulled it out of the packaging, he blinked. It was Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. "How… did you get this? It won't even be in theaters for almost two weeks."

"Yeah… but you don't like theaters, right? Especially crowded ones?"

It was true. Everyone was always driven mad by the fact that England preferred to wait until movies came out on video to seeing them in the cinema. If it wasn't crowded, it wasn't too bad, but he didn't like waiting. "You got this… so I could watch it at home… before it comes on in theaters?"

"Yes."

"How?"

America shrugged. "I know some people in Hollywood." He smiled. "We could watch it together, when you're feeling up to it… if you want to."

"Wouldn't you rather see it in theaters?"

He shrugged again. "I can see it in theaters later."

England supposed he didn't mind finishing his book the next day. "We can watch it tonight."

"Really?" America asked, sounding overjoyed. He did seem to enjoy sharing Harry Potter with England, and for a moment, England was really touched. He smiled and finished his fish and chips.

Half an hour later, after America had insisted on washing the dishes himself, they sat down to watch the movie with a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of popcorn—courtesy of America. "I'm beginning to wonder if you have any clothes in that suitcase," England said.

America shrugged. "I'm a good packer, what can I say?" He put the DVD into the player and sat down beside England with a smile. England mentally resigned himself to the fact that the movie would not be identical to the book, and he needed to appreciate it for what it was. It would probably be bloody brilliant anyways—it was difficult to go wrong with Harry Potter.

The movie was brilliant, and England thoroughly enjoyed it, until the depiction of Fred and George's rebellion. Fireworks. England's smile vanished in a trice as he watched Fred and George set off fireworks and declare their independence from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after Professor Umbridge's latest intolerable act. He pressed his lips together as they flew off on their brooms in a blaze of glory, reached for the remote, and turned the television off.

America, whose full attention had been on the television, jumped, and looked at England. "What… did you…?"

England stood up. "I'm going to bed."

"What?" He looked annoyed. "What's up? That was the best part!"

"Was it?" England asked evenly. "I suppose you would think so."

America seemed to sense danger. "Um… what's wrong?"

"Fireworks?" England asked, stressing the word.

America looked confused, then annoyed again. He lifted an eyebrow. "You don't even like fireworks now?"

"Isn't it just like you bloody Americans… Fred and George, declaring their independence with fireworks."

"Iggy, that part's in the book."

"It is not. There are no fireworks in the book. They are put there to spite the British."

"Uh… don't you think you're taking this a bit…?"

"If you say 'personally,' I'll box your ears."

America smiled a little. "Come on, Iggy… sit back down."

"No!"

"Umbridge was awful… it was totally justified."

"I don't want to hear it! Here I thought you were being nice, and it turns out you just wanted one more opportunity to—!"

"England, I hadn't ever seen the movie! How was I supposed to know there would be fireworks?"

"I'll bet you suggested it to the bloody Hollywood producers! Anyway, it doesn't make any difference! I'm going to bed."

"Iggy…."

"Stop calling me that!" He stormed up to his room, slammed the door and locked it, and sat on his bed, hugging his knees, fighting angry tears. It did not make him feel better knowing he was being irrational and unfair. It also did not make him feel better thinking he may have been a bit like Professor Umbridge in his worst moments. When America had pulled on the leash, he'd tightened it more and more until America broke it altogether. And left him for good. The tears escaped, and he sniffed.

There was a knock on his door presently. "England?"

"Go away!" England shouted.

"Can't I come in?" The doorknob rattled slightly. England said nothing, and presently he heard America's footsteps down the hall again. He stayed put, lost in his painful memories, and blinked back tears until he fell asleep.

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A/N: Blah, England has so much emotional baggage. I feel bad for him, but worse for America. Hope non-Harry Potter-readers weren't too confused. For the record, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released on July 11, 2007 in the U.S.A, and the 12th in the U.K.