Out of my League

Chapter Thirty Four

He won't even look me in the eye, we've been spending all day together and we can't get through one conversation, just down awkward stares as we sort of follow each other around. He's blaming himself for something I got myself into.

"Could you hand me that." He asks while nodding his head towards the pale blue mug on the accent table in front of the sofa in the common room. I pick it up and look inside out of curiosity.

"Coffee?" I ask. Harry doesn't have a taste for coffee usually, he says it makes him too jittery.

"Yeah." He says while reaching for it, still looking away from me.

"Well you've got to have a reason for it, have you not been getting enough sleep?" I ask. I'm worried that he's keeping things from me, I guess I know how he feels when I won't open up now. It just makes me worried because I know that not telling anyone can lead to continuing to hurt yourself even more.

"It's not important." He snaps. I try to hide my disappointment but I'm sure my face says it all "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that like that. I just feel like failed you." He explains.

"Harry, I told you not to get worked up over Umbridge's quill." I say while moving my hand onto his knee. "It didn't even hurt that bad." I reassure.

"That's not the point." He begins "I couldn't even protect you from one of Umbridge's detentions, how are you supposed to trust me?" His face softens as he looks my in the eye.

"I volunteered myself for that, I knew what to expect. This is a very silly thing to worry about so much, I'll always trust you Harry. But seriously what's with the coffee all of the sudden?" I ask.

"I can't force myself to try and go to sleep anymore, it's just torture." He sighs "I keep getting nightmares, and it's not once and I while it's every single time I fall asleep. So I'm just trying to find new ways to keep myself up."

"Harry, with the amount of stress that you have getting sleep is essential-"

"Yeah don't you think I know that, Kennedy?" He raises his voice a little while throwing his hands up in the air.

"I'm sorry." I feel like whatever I say to him, it's wrong. That's why I usually avoid having these types of conversations.

He touches his neck and looks away quickly, acting like he heard something in the other direction. "Stop apologizing." He sighs.

"Well what do you want me to do Harry? Because no matter what I do or say, you get more frustrated with me. Would you rather me just leave?" I ask, immediately regretting trying to match his tone.

"This is what I mean, can't you see that I'm becoming a terrible person?" He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

One of the biggest setbacks in our relationship is that we're both bad at dealing with each other's feelings, we both act all stiff and awkward. I wish I was better at it than him though, it would be nice if he knew he could open up to me without having to worry about if it makes me uncomfortable.

But it works out in the way that we always resort to physical touch rather than speech. That's where all of the pinky promises and long hugs come from, a loss for words.

I move closer to him so that the whole right side of my body is against him and continue to lean into him. He sneaks an arm around my shoulder and repositions into the corner of the sofa with me held closely to him.

I know he's not really mad at me, or he wouldn't want to touch me. He's mad at himself, he always is. It's really exhausting for him.

He'll never be able to understand the amount of comfort and safety he provides me just by doing silly little things like this, I'd never be able to come up with the words to explain
the feeling.

I take his hand into mine and start to rub my thumb over his knuckles repetitively. I like to try and match his slow breathing pattern. He begins to twirls a small section of my hair through his fingers while still being careful not to get it tangled.

We do this until I notice him gradually slowing down. The rise and fall of his chest gets deeper. I find myself trying to keep my eyes open for him, it would be sort of rude if I fell asleep when he's just told me he hasn't in days at least.

But my eyelids are so heavy and we're so perfectly wrapped in each other's arms by the fire that's lit up more than usual giving off just the right amount of warmth. I want to have the satisfaction of closing my eyes for just a minute so I look up to see if Harry is watching me.

His glasses have fallen more than halfway down his face, but he wouldn't know since he's fast asleep. I reach up and carefully take them off of his face then place them on the table.

For once there's not a look of worry or stress across his face. He looks content, it just makes me happy.

I lean back into my spot but rather than just holding his hand I hug his arm and rest my head in between his neck and his shoulder. I take one look around the dim common room and let myself slowly flake out.

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