Haven .|. H. J. POTTER✔

Chapter twelve

"Still not done?" Haven asked surprised when Harry walked down the stairs of the boys' dormitories again. 

"I think Ron and Hermione gave it a rest but Neville and Hannah are still chatting and Dean and Seamus definitely not asleep yet," Harry grumbled. He walked over to one of the couches and sat down. "It's nearly two in the morning, is shagging that good?"

"Appearantly," Haven shrugged, sitting down on the armchair next to the couch Harry was sitting on. "So what're you gonna do?"

"Sleep out here, I guess," Harry shrugged, patting on the couch. It felt stiff under his hands. 

"Great, I'll keep you company," Haven immediately said as she pulled her knees up and leaned against the backrest of the armchair. 

"Why, exactly?" Harry asked with a frown, curious as to why she would rather sleep here than in a much more comfortable bed in an empty dormitory. 

"I don't think I should leave you unsupervised after you just spent an hour throwing glass at a wall," Haven simply said, waving her wand at a stack of thin blankets, making one rise from it and zoom towards her. She draped it over her body.

"And why's that?" Harry questioned as he leaned back against the couch as well. 

"Because you're a rookie. I'm a professional by now,"

Harry noticed the hint of amusement in her tone. 

"A professional glass-thrower?" Harry said with a grin.

"A professional mentally unstable ... person,"

Haven and Harry shared a grin before Harry gave in, assuming he probably shouldn't convince her to go sleep in her own bed. And it might be fun to have company. It could take his mind off the ridiculously stiff couch he was resting against. 

Harry realised throughout the week that Haven's presence in the same room as he was eased his mind. Or at least took his mind off anything else. There had been a couple of occasions already in which he found himself staring at her; at the veins in her neck, the gap between her front teeth, the curve of her torso, anywhere was well enough to make his mind wander away from the conversation he was listening to or the way his feet moved as he walked to the corridor. More than once Hermione had to warn him not to trip over his own two feet.

Something that gave his ego a boost was how he caught Haven looking at him too. Maybe not as much as he looked at her but it was still a reasonable amount of times for Harry to conclude that she might like to look at him. When she wasn't looking at his jaw or his crooked nose, she had her eyes glued to the muscles in his back or his shoulders. 

The attraction Harry felt between them - or more so towards her - could only be compared to the raw sexual attraction he felt between him and the Muggle bloke, yet this was still different. The Muggle bloke was nice - a good kisser - and Harry could really let his mind wander when listening to the Muggle problems he was going through, but with Haven the addition of knowing she went through a similar trauma that didn't stop when Voldemort's body hit the floor made Harry able to relax his muscles and just exist. 

Did this comparison between Haven and the Muggle bloke make him want to kiss Haven?

Harry wasn't sure if he could answer that question and forced himself to think of something else - to not let his mind stuck at the fantasy of pushing Haven against the wall and snogging her senseless. 

Harry blamed the vision on the fact that he was a grown-up now, allowed to do nearly whatever he liked. He never used to have these thoughts about people, not even for Cho or Cedric for whom he both had a long-lasting crush. It definitely was the fact that he was an adult now that caused these thoughts, Harry convinced himself.