Haven .|. H. J. POTTER✔

Chapter thirty-two

"This sucks,"

"No kidding,"

"We shouldn't have drunk that much,"

"Obviously,"

Haven rested her forehead in her arms, blocking out all the light from around her. She was in a rather bad state, more than usual after they drank all night. Haven's head ached and nausea kept stirring in the bottom of her stomach. When she stood up from a chair, she had to steady herself on Harry so the floor swaying under her feet wouldn't make her fall. 

"You drank nearly as much as I did, how come you're fine?" Haven asked Harry, shooting a look of envy at him but quickly disappearing under her arms again. 

Harry just shrugged even though he knew she couldn't see it. He didn't feel as sick and tired as Haven clearly felt but he did have some gaps in his memory that he was desperately racking his brain over. 

Harry distinctly remembered Haven dragging him up the stairs to his dormitories, and he definitely could remember her lips on his but there wasn't much else he knew, other than the fact that they ended up falling asleep together on his bed, clothes still on. 

He had gone to every possible scenario out of worry and embarrassment that they did something they didn't remember but he didn't think that they'd shag and then put their clothes back on - drunk people were usually too drunk for that. 

Harry just counted himself lucky that he didn't experience - or remember - how Dean and Seamus went at it behind the curtains of Dean's four-poster bed. When he woke up the next morning, a naked Seamus just emerged from behind the drapes and quickly strolled over to the bathroom where he most likely threw up in the toilet and then used some spell to clean it up. 

Without paying much attention to the other Gryffindors, Harry had fallen asleep again immediately, savouring the warmth of laying over Haven, but was soon waken up again by Ron to tell them that they should get ready soon. Haven then proceeded to take a far too long of a shower which caused them to nearly miss breakfast and arrive late for Professor McGonagall's class.

All of the eighth-years ignored the sigh that came from Professor McGonagall's lips when she found the hung-over students waiting for her class to start.

"I'm tired," Haven complained. She didn't look at Professor McGonagall, wanting to block the memory of her proposition out for a moment. Haven wasn't ready to make such a decision yet.

"I realised," Harry said, rubbing his fingers over his temple. "How come you got so drunk, you never get that drunk?"

Haven had been afraid Harry was going to realise there was a reason behind it. 

"To drown out the pain of not being able to sleep in anymore," Haven grumbled as an answer.

Harry nodded. It made sense for Haven to find such a reason and his brain couldn't comprehend to ask more questions on the matter. 

"Did we shag?" Harry then asked with a confused frown.

"I think I'd have remembered you putting your prick in me,"

Harry's cheeks coloured a bright crimson red at the lewd language. He realised that he should've learned from the mistakes of talking to Haven about shagging in the past. It usually ended in Haven grinning at the flustered Harry. 

"Seriously?" Harry cocked one eyebrow, leaning his cheek on his hand to hide a little of the red colour.

"Oh, definitely," Haven tilted her head in her arms to look at him. "It's huge, I'd remember it for years,"