Hunger | H.S

03 | touch

I apologise for not updating in a long time, I've just been doing my own things & i'm still stuck in readers block so i'm sorry if this sucks. Also, I'd appreciate if y'all followed my new twitter @babiaves :)))) enjoy!

STOOD IN THE doorway of Harry's home, I can't help but let my jaw slack just a bit. By far his house was extravagant, making my own look poor. A large marble staircase was placed in the centre, leading up to what I reckoned be the many bedrooms left empty. Assuming he lived alone, I felt an odd feeling of sadness for this man. Head tilt up, my gaze was met with a huge crystal chandelier.

"Done daydreaming yet?" Harry's voice cuts my thoughts, and I whip my head around to face him. A small smile curling my lips, I carelessly shrug my shoulders.

"You have a beautiful home," I comment, to which he only chuckles. Nodding his head to the left, he directs me to follow him. Moments later we're stood in front of a large door, a frown setting on my face before it turns into surprise.

Walking past Harry, I look around, stunned. Rows upon rows of books decorated the room, even the walls had stacks of books lining them. High ceilings, the room was well lit as sunlight shone though the large glass windows. From what I could see, there was a smaller room that led out of this one, in my sight a large wood desk sat in the middle.

Getting past the shock, I turn my body so i'm facing Harry, a smirking Harry in fact.

"You have your own fucking library? This is like a dream of mine." I breathe out a sigh, letting my eyes roam around the room once more, my feet carrying me further into the room.

Hearing his foot steps near behind me, he clears his throat. "Indeed, i've always loved to read. As you do too, your father mentioned you being a book-worm." Playfully rolling my eyes at his last few words, I stop to skim some of the covers on one of the rows.

Lolita? I stop my steps, pulling out the book. Turning to Harry, I raise a brow, waving the book in front of him.

"You've read this?" I ask, noticing his cheeks tint a slight shade of crimson. Masking his embarrassment, his face almost looks pained.

"I do not enjoy the true meaning of the book, though it has a beautiful writing structure. You may borrow it, if you want." He shrugs, dismissing the conversation as he walks a few steps ahead.

Holding onto the book, I quietly follow behind him. I watch him, almost fixated at the mere sight of him. He halts at the end of the row, looking focused as he reads over the books in front of him, picking out a few.

Gesturing for me to take it, I hold the stack of 5 books. Before I can question it, his voice takes over. "They're just a few of my favourite poetry novels, use them for as long as you need." A genuine smile on his face, I slowly nod.

Silence falling upon us, I quickly speak up. "Thank you, I appreciate it." I shyly say, looking down at my shoes for a second. Deciding not to just stand there to make things even more awkward than it was, I try to take a few steps in front of him, attempting to get past before I trip on my own feet.

A yelp emitting from my lips, I prepare myself for the fall. Books clattering onto the floor, I feel arms holding me up. Hair covering my face, my chin tilts up, my face directly looking at Harry's. Amusement covering his features, it suddenly washes away as realisation hits the two of us at our close proximity.

Faces only inches away, I notice his eyes cast a glance at my lips, face leaning closer to mine. In the heat of the moment, a nagging thought replaces the fogged up feeling I was hypnotised to. Turning my head to the side, I stand up straight.

"I should probably go.." I trail off in a quiet voice, despite the fact we're practically up against each other. I step back, bending down to gather up the spluttered books. I heard him let out a sigh of, relief? Frustration? I couldn't tell, but I chose to just ignore it.

"Let me drive you home." By the tone of his voice, I don't protest.