PETAL | HARRY STYLES

FIVE.

Fleur can already feel her brain throbbing when she slips out of unconsciousness. She hasn't opened her eyes yet, but she knows she's going to regret it.

Shifting around, her hand brushes over the cold sheets against her skin. They did not feel like her own.

In fact, it did not feel like her room. It smelled of men's cologne and fresh lavender. Something her own room didn't smell of.

Her first instinct is to panic. Her eyes pop open to scan the area.

It's a large room. Similar to any guest room you'd see. There's a dresser in the corner and a large mirror against the wall. There's also another door, to what she can assume leads into a bathroom.

The decor is minimal. She didn't expect much of it. Especially considering it was just a guest room. But, there were a few expensive looking paintings hanging on the walls.

Slowly, she sits up against the headboard. She brings her hand up to her head, rubbing her temple. A low groan passes her lips, the ache only getting worse.

Suddenly, she hears movement. Footsteps down the hall, thudding past the room she's in. A door opens and closes before opening again, the same footsteps going about.

Fleur tries everything to recollect last night's events. She knows she drank, a lot. But the rest is insanely foggy. And she wishes she knew whose house she's in.

After a few seconds, she finally decides to get up. When she does, she feels the baggy clothes hang off her skin. She looks down, identifying them as men's clothing.

In the bathroom, she looks in the mirror.

Not good.

Mascara flakes all around her eyes like pepper. Her lipstick is smeared across her cheeks as well. It wasn't pretty.

She washes her face as best as she can. At least until she doesn't cringe at what she sees.

When she exits the room, she peeks around the corner, looking through the halls. That's when she spots a framed photo resting atop a side table.

In the photo is a girl, standing beside Harry. They look pretty similar, big golden smiles gracing their faces.

Harry.

She's at Harry's house.

Fleur winces and facepalms, shaking her head.

She is a complete fool.

How could she call him in the condition she was in?

Her heart pounds as she ventures downstairs. The sound of dishes clashing together echoes through the halls. She can only assume it's him.

Sure enough, Harry stands at his kitchen counter, cutting strawberries. He's wearing a robe and his hair is pulled back into a tiny bun.

Her heart melts at the sight of him. He looks absolutely precious.

Waking up to this didn't seem too bad.

It only made her insecure, though. Being as her makeup is smudged and her hair is an absolute mess. She felt as though she couldn't even be in his presence.

Harry sees her. And he instantly smiles. She looks angelic. He didn't even notice the messy hair or the flaky makeup. All he saw was a golden light reflecting off of her.

"You're a really heavy sleeper." Is the first thing he tells her.

Fleur wants to be buried alive.