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

Promises

In the week to come, I did not utter a word to Harry, Hermione, or Ron.

They'd all attempted — multiple times, but I wouldn't hear it. At least Harry had respected that and moved to sleep on the on the fifth bed in our room.

One morning, I'd gotten up particularly early — I was inexplicably hungry. Okay, maybe not inexplicably... I'd skipped dinner last night to have more alone time to sulk and/or cry.

I'd brushed my teeth and that was about it as I limped downstairs. Though upon shouldering open the door and seeing Harry and Ron at the table, I considered starving.

Harry immediately stiffened and sat up when he saw me. Ron kept his head down.

I walked over to the top cabinet and stood on my toes to pull out a box of cereal and a bowl. I grabbed a carton of milk (double checking the expiry date — I'd made that mistake one too many times here) and poured it.

I had myself and Ginny to thank for Mrs Weasley banning eating outside of the kitchen or dining table: we'd messed a considerable amount of popcorn during our time addicted to the still-unable-to-turn-on tv.

So I swallowed my pride and a spoonful of cereal as I leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at my socks.

"...Morning," Harry said weakly. Ron scooted his chair further from his friend.

I didn't even look up from the floor as I continued eating.

"The water's still hot if you want coffee?"

I wanted, but I didn't answer nor move.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand through his recently cut hair — he'd cut it a few days ago in hopes that the prospect of a haircut would encourage me to spark a conversation. It hadn't.

"Y/N—"

I slammed my empty bowl in the sink and began to walk out. Harry stood up and blocked my way. He looked down at me and I could only assume his expression was filled with emotion for I did not meet him halfway.

"Can I make you that cup of coffee? Please?"

He was begging.

I considered; the pros outweighed the cons heavily, the biggest one being that this favour included no interaction... And Harry made my coffee just the way I liked it.

Without giving him any indication that I'd acknowledged his existence, I took a seat on the opposite side of where Ron and him had been sitting at the table.

Ron didn't look up. He did not want to be here, but had no choice — Today had been a horrible morning to decide to polish the previous evening's hefty leftovers. He was stuck in the kitchen for another fifteen minutes at least.

A few moments later, a steaming cup was placed in front of me. I didn't thank him.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and even though Harry had already put my coffee down, he didn't retreat back to his seat. Instead, he hovered nearby, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. I stubbornly ignored him, stirring the coffee slowly, watching the liquid swirl around.

Harry sighed again and finally sat back down next to Ron, who was still avoiding eye contact with both of us. The clink of Harry's spoon against his mug was the only sound in the room as I sipped my coffee, feeling its warmth but finding no comfort in it.

"Y/N... You have every right to be mad, alright? But I promise, Ron and Mione wanted to tell you. They really did. I asked them to not. So, if you should be mad at anyone, it should be me. Only me."