𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦┃ 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴

horcrux┃h‣potter

the night we met
|lord huron|

Harry seemed to be the only person who could stand being around you for long periods of time. Everyone else became miserable, unhappy and ended up shoving you away- but something about Harry was different.

You smile up from your parchment in the library, searching for his kind eyes: hovering as he hopes catches your attention over top of his textbook.

When the two of you meet, you both break into wide smiles- flustering. He quickly races his attention back to his own work as you begin to pack up your belongings, knowing that in a few minutes the library will be full, and that no one will want to sit anywhere near you.

As you turn to tuck your chair in, a whisper holds you. "Y/n, sit with me."

You turn to Harry with an apologetic look in yours, "I've got to leave before it gets crowded- besides won't Hermione and Ron be here soon?"

"They don't mind being around you," he gives a polite smile as he closes his textbook to give you his full attention. "Besides, I'm almost certain that they're somewhere snogging in an empty broom closet."

He pushes the chair across from him with a smile, "I've also heard you're great at Charms and I might need your help."

You break into a teasing tone, "oh, so you do have ulterior motives?"

"Humor me," he gestures to the seat again, "you must get lonely sometimes."

"Harry, you're wrong there. I rarely pity myself."

"Of course you don't, y/n. Now stop being so stubborn and sit down with me." With a long sigh, you throw your bag down and angle yourself across from the infamous Potter.

He smiles pleasantly, and you attempt to keep a straight face as you cross your arms, but feel the corner of your lips pull upward. "You know you want to smile."

As you lean over to pull out your books again, you let out a little laugh. After a moment you sit up again, curious. "Can I ask you something?"

He nods his head, playing around with his frayed hair. "What?" His eyebrows raise quickly before his kind eyes mirror back to you.

"Why did you insist I sit with you, do projects with you, and hang out with you? Most people can't stand the sight of me." His blue eyes widen slightly underneath his circular glasses, and he allows himself a moment to think before answering your question.

"I know how it feels to be lonely, I spent the first 11 years of my live outcasted- I thought you might like to have someone to talk with."

You nod your head, "alright, but just be warned that you'll get sick of me in a day or two."

"I don't believe so, I could say the same to you." He remarks back, bringing his quill to his parchment and scratching carefully.

"No one seems to get as tired of you as they do with me."

"Are you trying to make this into a competition, y/n?" He raises an eyebrow, and lowers his jaw into his head.

"I'm fiercely competitive," you answer back with a teasing tone- and glancing over your shoulder he smiles.

"I think I've met my match."