Ordinary Days (Harry Potter x Fem!Reader)

common cold || ☃️

It's time for winter one shots!! This was a request from loverforhjp (hope you like it!!)

if anyone else has some requests, please let me know. I'm not very imaginative and need help coming up with 25 wintery/holiday-y things :/

***

It was quite unlike (Y/N), who always had a great interest in anything regarding potion-making, to rest her head in the middle of one of Slughorn's demonstrations. And stranger still was the way she neglected to bring out her parchment and ink, and not even glance up when their professor asked her a question. 

Harry made some excuse for her – "Quidditch practice, sir. It's been running late." – and said he'd make sure she got all her notes. It was one of the benefits of being Slughorn's favorite, he supposed, because Slughorn only nodded, said something or other about Miss Malfoy being in good hands – (L/N) Ron had muttered under his breath – and turned back to his brew.

Harry was never one to be meticulous about notes; he hardly ever took them. But that day, he was sure to write down every detail about poison antidotes. He was careful to take notes like she did. To star things Slughorn said were important and underline things he thought (Y/N) might find interesting.

By the end of class, Harry considered himself to be an expert. He made some excuse to get Lavender Brown to leave (Y/N) alone ("she's really sick – probably contagious. I'd stay away if i were you."), asked Hermione to copy notes for (Y/N) during Defense Against the Dark Arts, and packed up all of their things before the classroom was empty. Harry draped her bag over his shoulder, gently shaking her awake.

"Class is over," he said when she blinked warily a few times.

She sat up straighter, peered around the classroom with glassy eyes, then looked at Harry.  "I slept through it?" Her voice sounded tired. "But – we were covering antidotes today—"

Harry flashed the notes to her. "It's all here,"

She took a moment to process, but then her eyes welled with a gratitude that made all the writing and wrist cramps all worth it. "Thank you," she stood up, holding out her hand. "Here, I can take my bag."

"I've got it,"

He caught the slight upwards tilt of her pretty lips, but he didn't fail to notice the hesitance in her gaze. Harry understood, she wasn't used to people doing nice things for her – he wasn't either. But he only laced their fingers together and started towards the door.

"Why don't we skip Snape's class?" He asked. "Head back to Gryffindor Tower, instead?"

Her shoulder brushed his as they walked down the corridor. "I'd like that,"

So they walked hand-in-hand through the corridors, avoiding professors and nosy castle ghosts that would ask where they were going. When The Fat Lady asked why they were back so early, (Y/N) was quick to explain she'd left her textbook and she let them through without another question. They hurried past the fourth years on free period playing exploding snap and up the stairs and to the left to the boy's dormitory. Harry was relieved when they reached his room without a run-in with Peeves; if anyone would say anything, it would be him.

(Y/N) settled onto Harry's bed. By the time he set down their things, she already had the comforter around her shoulders.

"You're cold?"

She nodded. "Freezing,"

Harry hadn't noticed she was sick. Until then, he figured she was just tired, and that (Y/N) wouldn't want to spend the next two hours with Snape breathing down her next if she couldn't even keep her eyes open during potions. But, when he saw her shivering in his bed, he remembered the snowball fight they had with Seamus and Dean the weekend prior and how she lost her gloves in the snow.

He felt the strong need to take care of her.  Harry didn't quite know how to take care of sick people – Aunt Petunia never took special care of him when he felt ill – but he did know what he always wanted. He thought it would be a good place to start.

Harry lit the stove in the middle of his dormitory, even though it was already quite warm. Then, he reached for the water jug on his windowsill, poured two fresh glasses, and set them on his nightstand. His last task, to dig through his trunk in search of his heaviest sweater

"My notes," said (Y/N), who'd been remarkably quiet.

Harry looked up. "Yeah?" He tried to remember what he'd written, but it'd been so much he couldn't think of everything. He began to worry he'd done something wrong.

"You took them like I do," her voice was delicate, touched. Her cheeks had gone pink as she flipped through the pages.

"Well, yeah," He smiled. "They're for you,"

He found his sweater tucked in a far corner. He made sure to straighten it out before he stood, and he found (Y/N) watching him with a soft kind of look in her eyes. Harry felt himself smile.

"What?" he asked.

"That's my favorite sweater,"

Harry played with the fabric in his hands. "I know,"

(Y/N) looked as though she might cry. She reached a hand out from under the blanket. Harry thought she was reaching for the sweater, so he held it out to her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit beside her.

She felt warmer than usual, and heavier when she leaned against him. She pulled the sweater from his lap and pulled it on over her clothes. The sleeves reached all the way to her fingertips and hung loosely around her arms. Harry watched as she reached for her notebook, fighting the urge to kiss her.

"What do these stars mean?" She pointed to the page and relaxed against Harry's shoulder.

"It's just what Slughorn said was important,"

"And these squiggles?" She glanced up at him.

"Things I thought you'd like,"

Harry watched her tired smile grow as she turned her gaze on the page. She read, and her eyelashes brushed her cheek. Her cheeks were flushed – Harry wasn't sure if it was because she was flattered or the fever, but all he could think of was how she looked like something from a painting. One he could stare at forever.

"I love you," (Y/N) said.

Harry grinned. It wasn't often that someone would tell him and it would feel so true. He draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "I love you,"

He gently ran his fingers through the edges her hair. She smelled of rose oil – the very same scent he'd caught a whiff of weeks ago when Slughorn taught them about Amortentia. He'd never been particularly fond of roses until he met her.

"Harry?"

"Hm,"

"Can we take a nap?" she snuggled closer. "You're so comfy,"

"'Course, (Y/N)," He reached over to click off the light. "Anything you want,"

She hummed contentedly, and her arms wrapped snug around his torso as she settled further under the blankets. And Harry could not think of a single place he'd rather be.