Teaching Harry... | Harry Styles | AU|

Chapter 2

Weeks passed by so quickly that Harriet couldn't believe it was actually her fourth Sunday night in her new home.

She had been so busy focusing on her lesson plans, marking bits of homework, visiting her parents and having introductory meetings with the head of her department, that she had barely had time to even think. Her body so easily slipping into the routine of her new life. She hadn't even had time to paint her bedroom, which is something that she had planned to do as soon as she moved in.

So here she was, her face and hair covered in speckles of pastel yellow paint. Her outfit consisting of black leggings and a large over-sized tie dyed t-shirt, also covered in paint.

She actually felt like there was more paint on her body than on the actual walls.

But fuck it, her bedroom was complete.

And it was yellow.

Which was bright and warm. Which made Harriet feel content and happy when looking at it.

Which she needed. Desperately.

After Jack cheated on her, Harriet felt like a heavy black cloud of anxiety and depression took over her. Her life was nothing but pain and endless self loathing. She cried every day. Hated every day. She wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

So she decided with her new life, there was going to be nothing but warmth. Calm. Happiness. Contentment.

Contentment at being alone.

Alone, and a failure at marriage.

Okay, so it wasn't easy for her to keep positive. But Harriet felt like she had accomplished something when she looked at the fresh paint on the walls of her room. It made her feel a little bit more happier within herself that she had achieved something, all by herself.

She was an independent woman!

A very single 33-year-old independent woman.

Harriet squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she took a sharp breathe into her lungs. The insecure thoughts trying to sneak into her mind and poison her positivity. But she fought them back. Deciding she needed something else to focus on. With her mind busy focusing on something else she didn't have time to think about the trauma of a year she had had.

Maybe that's why she had made herself so busy all week.

***

Almost an hour later and Harriet was dressed in clean clothes and freshly showered. The house was tidy and free of paint, and she was now settled on the couch in the living room. A stack of essays in her lap and a glass of wine sat on the coffee table in front of her. The TV playing on a low volume, some sitcom that she was barely paying attention to falling into the background.

Once she had finished grading and noting her tenth essay, she then slipped it onto the complete pile that sat next to her. Her eyes moving to land on the next one, her head tilting when she gazed over the name of the student.

Harry Styles.

He was a mysterious character to her.

She had only taught a total of 16ish lessons with Harry in so far, and yet Harriet couldn't believe how intriguing she found the boy.

He was so quiet and reserved. Never spoke up in class or raised his hand. But whenever she would call on him, his answers were always perfect. Beautiful even. His understanding and views on their study of Edgar Allen Poe's work was so fascinating to her.

Harry never seemed embarrassed or insecure about expressing his knowledge or very obvious passion for reading. But he also didn't just give it up, he never opened a debate or just called out his opinion. He had to be asked, like he only kept his thoughts for himself. Which made Harriet wonder if he was really shy in nature. Timid. Maybe a bit lost in himself?