Second chances *ੈ✩‧₊˚ (harry potter x reader)

Seventeen

I stared at the canopy above Harry's bed; the boy asleep soundlessly next to me.

I was having sex. My mother is missing, my father isn't answering me, my brother is dead.

And what was I doing? I was having sex.

A single tear rolled from my eye onto the pillow.

I was so happy after we'd won the House Cup... I wanted to chase the euphoria for a little while longer... Whether that was an act of selfishness or pitiful desperation I did not know.

Yes, I had said consented fully. Harry would never force himself onto nor coerce me. But it was simply that: Why would I say yes?

The guilt I was expecting to experience was feeling more like disgust. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted at how much I'd enjoyed it. How could I find solace in physical intimacy when my family was torn apart? My mother probably being tortured as we speak?

My mind replayed the events of the night, each moment tinged with self-reproach.

Harry stirred beside me, sensing my restlessness even in his sleep. His hand moved gently, brushing against my arm in a soothing gesture. I flinched, pulling away from his touch.

Another wave of guilt hit me at my reaction.

Harry had been nothing but gentle and caring during and after, always attentive to my needs. Yet here I was, recoiling from his touch because of my own selfishness.

I heard the rustling of the duvet and instinctively turned to my side to have my back to him; feigning sleep was easiest.

"I know you're awake, love," he whispers. I hesitate before looking over my shoulder at him in the darkened room. He was propped up on his elbow. There was a slight light coming in from the moonlit curtain.

"What's wrong?" he adds softly.

I thought hard. I really did. But how do I tell my boyfriend that I wish I'd said no to having that after it'd already happened? How do I even justify that without offending him?

"It's nothing," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. But even to my own ears, it sounded hollow. "Just can't sleep. Too much excitement from the match maybe..."

Harry was not convinced. I don't think my words would've even been able to convince a child.

"...Did I hurt you?" he asks very slowly.

"No no," I sit up and face him, "no nothing like that."

He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering in the space between us as if unsure whether to touch me or not.

"Please talk to me," he whispers, almost begging.

I sigh, and it takes the better half of a minute for me to start speaking. "I feel awful, Harry," I confessed, my voice wavering with emotion. "I shouldn't have said yes... I mean, with everything going on..."

"...What do you mean?"

"I mean with this. I should've said no..."

"Did you want to say no?"

"No. I wanted to do it, but I shouldn't have."

"Oh..." Harry says softly, "I see."

There was a brief silence, and in that I doubted whether or not anything that'd just left my mouth made any sense.

Harry's expression softened, and he moved closer, his hand finding mine. "Y/n, you don't need to feel guilty," he said gently. "What happened between us... it was mutual."