UnExpected

Chapter 29

It was late. He should be sleeping. He should be not caring. He should be a lot of things, instead he was downstairs waiting. Wondering when she would be back.

The sound of the portrait swinging open surprised him. He had gotten used to the quiet. He watched her as she came into the room, and then as she stopped just before she reached the stairs. Her body completely still and he couldn't help but be a little fascinated by it. A tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth at his sudden flash of memories.

It was less than an arm's length away. The source of her 'it'. She made a move to the stairs again. A footstep to lure a false of security. And then, like the trained predator she was, she snapped back around.

In the blink of an eye, Buffy whipped the cloak off him. The material now hanging from her hand as she looked at him. His hair more rumpled than usual, and his eyes bright with amusement.

"You never did tell me how you were able to do that," Harry smirked.

She delicately shrugged. "Magic."

He smiled a little, releasing some of the tension he had been feeling.

Buffy was definitely surprised he was here. More to do with the fact of why. He hadn't exactly made a move to talk to her since his little blowup two months prior. Only giving her the more than occasional look with hesitant and confused eyes. Almost like he wanted to walk right over and speak to her. Something she wished he would've done time and time again.

They grew into an awkward silence. Neither one really knowing where to go from here. Noticing she still had the cloak in her hands, Buffy handed it over to him. Her fingertips slightly brushing against his as he took it.

"Thanks," he smiled, taking the material and bunching it in his grasp.

Buffy smiled back and loosely clasped her hands in front of her. Causing Harry to remember what he was doing down here in the first place.

"How's your hand?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

Buffy immediately looked down. The thumb of her right hand was rubbing the back of her left. Almost as though she could still feel the words that never scarred.

"It's fine," she answered. "No permanent damage done."

When she looked up, she noticed Harry's intense gaze. His green eyes on her previous source of attention. Noticing her smooth undamaged skin.

"I heal fast," she explained, moving her hands quickly to her sides.

"Lucky for you," he mumbled as he looked at his own hand. I must not tell lies now permanently etched into his skin.

"Yeah," she murmured. At the sight of his shiny new scar, Buffy wanted to march right back up to Umbridge and cause the kind of pain she only reserved for demons. And in her opinion, Umbridge was as close to being one than any person she had ever met. "What are you doing down here?"

Harry snapped his eyes up and settled them on Buffy's face. He scratched the back of his head, shifted from one foot to the other and squeezed the cloak in his hands nervously.

"I was..." he cleared his throat. "I was waiting...for you."

"You were?" she asked, feeling her heart skip a little beat.

"Yeah, I, uh...I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh," she smiled shyly. Her insides all fuzzy at his obvious concern. "Thanks, that's, um...sweet," she stuttered out nervously.