Dysfunctional

56 - One Step Closer

The crash of the waves and the tang of the salty sea were quite comforting to Harry, having gotten used to it every day in the rundown shack. A girl living with him, however, was not something he could get used to.

It had been more than a few weeks since he and Demelza had escaped the lone Death Eater who had tracked them to the Muggle hospital. While Harry's leg was getting better, it was still in a cast, as it would need to be for another fortnight or so - which also meant that Demelza was in dire need of clothes and in no way of getting them, stuck here as they were. She had had nothing on her but her wand and the clothes on her back when Harry saved her from those Death Eaters.

Harry had reluctantly asked Twitchet to accompany Demelza, even though he felt uneasy letting her off his sight. No matter how cute he thought she looked in his t-shirts, they were two sizes too big and she did not appreciate having to stay in his clothes, even though they were magically washed and ironed by Twitchet.

And she needed things... 'lady things' in her words and Harry had jumped to hand her a wad of muggle money without further ado.

He had almost been hoping his weird time lapses would happen again and he would drift off while she was gone and it would probably feel like a few seconds to him before she was back. But no such luck.

He was stuck in the couch with no ability to pace and vent his anxiety for four long hours. Why would someone take so long to just buy clothes?

Harry might have started another fight with her when she returned and it resulted in both of them yelling their heads off and then not speaking for hours on end.

This was a regular occurrence by now, both of them finding ways to pick at each other for even the silliest things such as having left the window open all night or who got to sleep in the single bedroom upstairs.

In retrospect, Harry could not comprehend how suggesting Demelza to take the bed while he slept on the couch instead could have had disastrous effects.

"Oh, so the Chosen One wants to prove he is chivalrous after all? Too late, Potter!" snapped Demelza, going back to the book she was reading while sitting cross-legged on the couch and completely ignoring him.

Harry bristled and threw up his hands in indignation. "Was that a crime? What is wrong with asking a girl to take the bed instead of me?"

"I'm fine with the couch, thank you. Wouldn't want to listen to another tirade of how I'm the cause of your injured leg not healing sooner or something."

"I'm not the one here who keeps whingeing for every bloody thing," grumbled Harry.

"You know you do, Potter," she retorted, closing the book. "You've reminded me more than the number of days I've been in this place that you regret bringing me here-"

"-because all you've done is ask me the same unnecessary questions..."

"-and you never give a proper answer-"

"...even though I have answered them..."

"-well, your answers are lame-"

"...and you insist you know better! Why should I answer you when I didn't even answer my own family?" finished Harry loudly.