#witch!harry

Blackness. Pure dark midnight is all I see as I open my eyes. I know they’re open, though I can see nothing - no shapes or silhouettes of any kind. I’m not even sure if it’s my own bed underneath me, or if I’m actually lying on anything at all.

That’s when I hear it. It starts low, the faint muffled sounds of someone - or something. I try to lift myself, my hands grasping for whatever is beneath me, but it’s only then that I realise I’m no longer lying face down. Disoriented as I punch the air with my fist, I suddenly panic again, hoping for something to grab onto, or at least to see. Screaming into the silence, I find my voice is mute, no sound coming from my mouth, or even my chest.

The muffled sounds seem to get closer then, and I desperately reach out to where I think it’s coming from. A hand from nowhere suddenly touches mine, and forthwith my entire body begins to tremble.

Before I can protest and attempt to scream out again, the darkness slowly fades as though dawn has just broken. A golden light seems to shine up from beneath wherever it is I am lying, and two ebony eyes stare back into mine.

“It’s okay now,” a voice says, though I’m unsure if it belongs to the same figure from which the eyes belong. It sounds more like an echo from far away. “You’re safe.”

I attempt once more to make a sound, but all I can manage is a croak. I catch the red lips beneath the eyes curving up into a smile, and I’m suddenly affected by a warm sensation of contentment.

“You’re pretty,” she says.

“So are you,” I rasp, surprising myself.

She laughs, a lovely coo that excites me.

“Save your voice, love.”

I would say more despite her demand, if not for the three other figures entering the space. Turning my head - which is no doubt being cradled by the softest pillow known to man - I catch a glimpse of more lovely creatures. My heart skips a beat when it recognises the one in the center.

“Ooh, good choice, mum, he’s a dish!” exclaims the tall male figure on the right.

“Hush, Victor,” chides the middle one, a petite woman with a timeless face and hair like spun gold. “I didn’t choose him. I told you. He was already chosen.”

The woman with ebony eyes beside me, still holding my hand, gleefully chuckles once again.

“Yes,” she sings as her long fingernails graze my flesh. “Besides, he’s mine anyway. I already decided.”

“Isabel-” Victor snaps.

“Hush! The both of you!” demands the one in charge. The queen. Though my thoughts are still unintelligible, my brain still fuzzy, I know this to be true.

Her face softening quickly, leaving no trace of indignation, she steps forward. As if on cue, Isabel leaves her post, taking a new place next to Victor and the one who has yet to make a sound.

“Harry, my child,” smiles the queen as she leans forward, taking my hand. The feeling of deja vu comes over me as I hear her say my name, though I cannot quite place hers. “Welcome. We have been waiting for you.”

“Waiting…” I cough. “Where- where am I?”

“Home,” she replies, as if that was the most obvious answer.

Looking into her eyes, I study them. Though not as dark as Isabel’s, they are still a lovely chocolate shade. My gaze examining the rest of her face, I notice lines but not wrinkles. Her face is porcelain, her lips perfectly shaped. I know this face, I remind myself.

My eyes shift to her hand wrapped around mine, covered in a lace glove. Fingerless. Red fingertips. Again, familiar. Everything looks and feels recognisable about her, just as familiar as my own mother or the tattoos inked on my skin.

“I...I know you, don’t I?” I finally manage to ask, my throat incredibly wretched and sore.

“Of course, darling,” she beams at me. And almost instantaneously, I know, before she speaks it herself. “I’m Stevie Nicks.”

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

The moment she heard the bell of the door tinkle from his disturbance, Rowan had turned toward the entryway, a strained smile pasted to her face before she even made eye contact with the stranger. “I’m sorry, sir,” She says, her voice barely meeting sorry, and edging more on irritation with every passing moment. “But we’re actually closed for lunch. You can come back at two, if you’d like.”

The man—who is dripping all over her freshly cleaned hardwood floors, she notes wryly—looks up at her with a raised brow, as if he’s surprised to find that there’s someone inside the small shop. Perhaps he’s just flustered from being caught in the storm, Rowan thinks, because it’s clear that the rain has soaked straight through his thin army jacket and maroon knit sweater, and is coating his entire being in ice, right down to his bones. The rain had come on rather quickly; Rowan recalls hearing the sudden thundering outside just after she had shattered the beautiful vase. It makes sense that the man looks like he hadn’t been expecting it. In fact, he still looks rather unmoored as he runs his ring-covered hand through his sopping wet chestnut ringlets once more, his hunter eyes darting another round over the store before refocusing on Rowan.

“I’m very sorry to disturb,” Rowan is surprised to hear the silky British accent that slips from his raspberry mouth, the hue matching the ruddiness of his cheeks—a sure side-effect of the freezing weather in which he’d found himself caught. “But I’m in a bit of a hurry, and I was wondering if you had any yarrow flowers.”

Despite her mouth already open to inform the man that, once again, her shop is currently closed, his incredibly specific request makes Rowan pause. Yarrow flowers are hardly a popular arrangement choice for someone who’s annoyed their partner—which she assumes this man has, given the hurry that he says he’s in. Normally, when men show up in her shop with a desperate look on their faces and urgency in their voices, they’re searching for flowers such as roses, calla lilies, daisies—things known to bloom for love. Yarrow flowers, with their small clumps of pastel petals offset by long, wiry stems, hardly match that description. 

The curiosity peaking inside her chest, more than anything else, is what prompts Rowan to change the response that’s resting on the tip of her tongue. “I, um, may have some in the back,” She says slowly, as if feeling out the words as she utters them. “I use them as fillers, sometimes, in arrangements. I can…check for you, if you’d like.”

The man visibly breathes a sigh of relief, his face relaxing just the slightest bit as his shoulders slump beneath his soaked clothing. “That would be lovely, thank you. I’d really appreciate it.”

Rowan nods again, giving the man one last look of pensive confusion before stepping out from behind her (messy as usual) desk to make her way to the back of the store to the workshop. As her shoes echo against the wooden floor, she wonders if this is a smart idea; should she be leaving a strange man with even stranger requests unattended in her shop? Should she be turning her back on him while walking towards a private back room that contains multiple objects of the heavy and sharp variety? Objects that she’d hate to see catalogued by a forensics team when her body is eventually discovered with a pair of gardening shears protruding from her chest? 

Reaching the half-opened door of her workshop, Rowan pauses in the frame just long enough to glance back over her shoulder at the man. With her promise to check her inventory for his requested flowers, he’s allowed some of the tension to slip from his body, and is busying himself by extracting a leather journal from an inner pocket of his jacket to thumb through. No, Rowan decides as she studies his furrowed brow and focused gaze. The man, albeit a little strange, isn’t a potential 48 Hours suspect; he’s just a little frazzled by the unexpected events of the day, a feeling to which Rowan can relate. And perhaps, if she wasn’t as frazzled as she is, she would have noticed the peculiarity of the man’s entire person being soaked while the yellowed pages of his leather-bound journal remain completely dry. 

Or maybe she wouldn’t have. After all, she’d spent her entire life ignoring the irregularities around her. What’s one more anomaly to turn a blind eye to?

Rowan doesn’t bother to close the door behind her, knowing that she’ll only be spending a few minutes inside her slightly chaotic workshop. The long wooden table and decorating stations are just as she left them an hour ago—meaning they’re covered in tissue wrappings and loose, wilted petals, with clipped leaves and discarded stems littering the floor below her—and she bypasses the mess to pull open the heavy insulated door that leads to her freezer.

She shivers as she steps into the refrigerated room, pulling her cable-knit cardigan tighter around her shoulders as she begins to scan the alphabetized shelves. Rowan’s eyes quickly scan one label to the next until she finds the little label that says “yarrow” in her neat writing on the lower half of the second metal shelf, nestled neatly beside a pile of violets. There are only a few of the little white flowers left in her stock, enough for about two small bunches, so Rowan removes both from the shelf before stepping out of the freezer and shutting the door tightly behind her to preserve the other flowers that are stocked away.

Clutching the two miniature bouquets in her hands, Rowan nudges the door of her workshop open a bit more as she passes back under the frame, picking off a few browning petals from the blossoms. She wishes the blooms were fresher—it wouldn’t be easy for the man to make amends for whatever he had done if he showed up with wilted flowers. Still, Rowan thinks as she flicks the dried petals to the ground, it’s better than nothing, and hopes that the small bouquets will be enough to appease whoever the soaked stranger had managed to piss off. 

“I found a couple bunches, and I wasn’t sure how many you needed, so I brought both—” Rowan stops short as she enters the front of the shop again, expecting to find the man near the door where she had left him, but finds only a damp spot on the wood where he’d dripped after his entrance. “Hello?” Confusion settles into her voice as she tentatively steps forward again, her gaze sweeping the perimeter of her shop.

“Oh, thank you,” The voice emerges from around the corner and behind a shelf of succulents, making Rowan half jump in surprise, and a small and shocked gasp leaves her mouth as the curly haired man steps out from behind the greenery.

“Oh—!” She clutches the flowers to her chest, taking a deep breath and releasing a strained laugh at her own over the top reaction, the sound both an apology and a nervous tic that’s lingered from childhood. “You scared me.”

With his emerald eyes tinged with regret, the man offers a peacemaking smile that borders on a grimace as he peers at her from the aisle. “I’m sorry,” He says slowly, his voice accented with sincerity as he presses a tattooed hand to his soaked chest, as if needing to catch his own breath as well. While it’s the movement that originally catches Rowan’s eye, it’s the tattoo inked into his skin that keeps her attention—it’s a strange symbol, resembling nothing she’s ever seen before, and yet…something about the crossing of lines and gentle curves of ink seems familiar. 

Shaking herself out of her thoughts with a quick jerk of her head, Rowan offers a smile to the man in return for his apology. “It’s fine,” She eases her tone to match the tilt of her lips, holding out the previously requested flowers to him. “Will these be enough for you?”

The man’s strawberry lips rise to mirror Rowan’s smile as he gives a gentle nod, relief and gratitude dancing through his sea glass irises. “Yes, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Rowan waves off the praise with a casual flick of her hand before beckoning him back towards the counter, doing her best to ignore the strange spark of pleasure in her belly upon hearing the stranger’s praise. “C’mon, I’ll just ring you up at the front.”

The man follows her to the front of the store, his polished shoes squeaking against the floor with every step and keeping his presence in her peripheral thoughts—as if Rowan could forget it. Reaching the counter, however, provides her with a familiar sense of comfort that she didn’t realize she’d been craving until the mahogany bench is between their two bodies. It’s strange, though, she thinks as she curls her fingers around the edge of the counter, drumming them once against the wood before beginning to ring in the flowers on her tablet that’s housed on the front counter. Despite the distance bringing her comfort, there’s a distinct sense of lack that comes with the separation; her eyes flicker to the stranger in front of her once again as she sets the bouquet of flowers onto the tissue paper lying in front of her. The brunette man is searching for his wallet in his rain drenched pockets, extracting a misted phone and the surprisingly dry journal from his jacket in his vain efforts. His eyes flicker to hers in apology, his smile growing back into a sheepish lilt as he clutches the objects within one hand while still searching with the other.

“I know I have it—somewhere—” He mutters, his drenched locks curling into his eyes as his head drops back down to examine his clothing. “Sorry, I’m usually—a little more organized than this, I swear—”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Rowan offers the usual method of banter she employs with customers, in which she just agrees and relates to anything they say to put them at ease. It’s a little fake, to be sure, but what isn’t fake about customer service? It’s not like she can roll her eyes each time someone makes the “it must be free!” joke when her debit machine takes a moment to boot up. “It’s been a strange day for everyone, I think. I spilled coffee all over myself, knocked over arrangements…and then to top it all off, the weather began to act up, when it had been so nice for the last few days.”

Cocking his head to the side, the stranger considers her small talk for a moment—which is more than most customers have ever considered her in her life. The curiosity of his gaze ignites that unfamiliar feeling again, once more making her contrastingly thankful and remorseful for the mahogany barrier between them. “Yes, it has been strange,” Despite the lightness of his tone, Rowan doesn’t miss the way his eyes shift a hue darker as he speaks. “Certainly seemed to come out of no—got it!”

The florist watches as he triumphantly extracts a brown wallet embossed with a marking she doesn’t recognize (a brand logo, perhaps? For a company more luxurious than she’s used to?), tucking the rest of his items back into his jacket with one swift motion. 

“Wonderful,” Rowan means every syllable of the word as she begins to key in the purchase on her tablet, her expert fingers tapping away as relief flows through her body, both from having a new center of attention, and knowing that she’ll be able to really take her lunch break soon. “I’ll ring those in for you—” 

 “That’s an interesting marking,” The man interrupts her focus with the offhand comment, and when her gaze snaps up to him once more, she finds him nodding to the door of the shop as his ringed fingers open his wallet. “Do you know what it means?”

Rowan tears her eyes from his flushed skin to where his own gaze rests, settling her sights on the top of the door frame, where a black hand painted symbol sits in stark contrast with the white of the walls. “Oh, it’s just something my mom used to draw all the time,” She explains with a shrug, dismissing the symbol as her eyes turn back from the familiar six petal flower wrapped in a circle to the questioning man in front of her. “She used to say it was for protection of homes, so when I opened the shop, I figured…well,” Rowan offers a sheepish smile in return for her superstitious explanation. “New York can be a dangerous place. It can’t hurt to have extra protection, right?”

Not for the first time, an undecipherable response flits through the man’s hunter eyes, but it disappears just as quickly as it appears, before Rowan can make anything of it. “Right,” He agrees quickly, his nod more serious than it had been a moment before. “You can never have too much protection.”

Although his words echo the very phrase Rowan just spoke, something about his cadence of voice gives the simple saying a double meaning. The florist ponders it for a moment, her eyes searching the stranger’s as much as she dares, but decides it’s best not to pry. It’s not her place, really. She doesn’t know this man, and she doubts he’d bother to recommend her shop to anyone he knows if she tries to interrogate him over his expressions.

Clearing her throat, Rowan decides it’s time to change the subject, and refocuses her attention to the task at hand. “So, um—” She glances back down at her tablet, forcing herself to remember her usual spiel with her customers. “I’ll just need your name for records—your first name, if you don’t mind. It just helps me with counting and keeping track of stock.”

“That’s no problem,” The tone of his voice flips back to something more casual with ease as he rakes a hand through his damp curls once more. “My name is Harry.”

“Harry…” Rowan quickly types the simple name into her inventory logs before setting her tablet down on the counter. With nimble and practiced fingers, she begins to wrap the yarrow flowers in tissue, but Harry interrupts her with a shake of his head.

“Actually,” He gives an apologetic smile—something he seems to do a lot, she’s noticed (not that she’s noticed much about him, she tells herself). “I don’t need any wrapping for them; I’ll be using them right away, and I’d hate to waste the tissue.”

“Oh,” Rowan’s movements pause at his request, and she removes the flowers from the wrapping carefully before handing the bouquet to Harry. “Are you sure? It’s still pouring, and the rain will ruin them…”

The stranger—Harry, she reminds herself—waves away her concern with an unbothered flick of his hand. “Yeah, it’s alright. I’m going to be pulling apart the blossoms anyway.”

“You’re—” Despite the majority of this interaction being the strangest she’s had in a long time, this is the first comment of the man that’s made Rowan pause completely. Were these flowers not a gift for someone, like she’d originally assumed? “What?”

“I needed yarrow blossoms for a little…project of mine,” The molasses-like speed at which Harry utters the words gives Rowan the impression that he’s choosing them very carefully, and the florist can’t help but wonder what explanation pertaining to flowers would ever need to be so carefully considered. “Normally I keep a stock of them, but I ran out last month and forgot to order more, and I was in the middle of my project by the time I realized…” As if realizing he’s beginning to ramble, Harry offers another shy tilt of his lips before laughing lightly at his own antics. “Well, anyways, I don’t need the wrapper. But I really appreciate the help; I know I kept you open past your usual hours.”

The strange—albeit rambling—explanation leaves Rowan speechless for a moment as she debates whether or not it’s worth questioning Harry more about his project—what kind of project would so urgently need yarrow flowers? What kind of project would be worth running out into this increasingly raging storm, soaking oneself clean to the bone just to retrieve the small bouquet currently clenched in Harry’s hand?

A project that’s none of your business, Rowan tells herself firmly. None of your business. “It’s—don’t worry about it,” She straightens her spine in resolution, mimicking his earlier action of waving off concern as he sets a twenty dollar bill down on the counter. “Oh—no, it was only twelve dollars, actually—”

“Keep the change. As a thank you.” Harry tucks his wallet back into his pocket, as if his soaked jacket could do much to protect the object from the rain. “Oh, by the way—” His jade irises brighten once more as he extracts his tattooed hand from his pocket, holding out an object to Rowan in offering. “I found this on the floor—meant to give it to you…”

Grasped between his long, lithe fingers (that she is not staring at. Not in the slightest.) is Rowan’s favourite pen—the one with violet ink that glides so delightfully over the countless information forms she has to fill out. Her mouth drops open as realization lights up her face, and she retrieves the pen from him with a new and genuine smile painted on her lips. “Oh, I’ve been looking for this! It’s my favourite.” Clicking it once as if to test if it’s working, Rowan regards the soaked man with newly warmed eyes. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry’s expression molds to match her own the moment their eyes meet, and he tucks the flowers under his arm before sheathing his hands within his pockets. “No need to thank me, Rowan. I’ll be seeing you soon.” His shoes click against the ground as he retreats back to the front door, casting one last glance at the floral symbol painted over his head before pushing the barrier open. “Stay dry, alright?”

Rowan nods automatically, repeating the phrase back to him as she waves goodbye with her pen still grasped between her fingers. The moment the door closes behind him, her previous hunger returns with more insistence than before, turning her stomach and effectively erasing all aspects of the strange meeting with the reminder that she needs to walk upstairs to her apartment to find something to eat.

It’s not until she’s sitting at her kitchen table, her cat sprawled languidly across her lap as she takes a bite of her cobb salad, that she realizes she had never told Harry her name.

…

“Oh, Christ—Butternut!”

The ginger cat scatters from underneath Rowan’s feet as the girl manages to catch herself on the edge of the kitchen counter, using the fern green cabinets to support her weight as she regains her balance. With one hand still holding the cat’s plastic food dish, Rowan uses the other to push herself away from the counter with a roll of her eyes, and resumes walking to the corner of the small kitchen to set the food dish down in its regular spot as Butternut watches from beneath a kitchen chair

“There you go,” Rowan sighs in exasperation as Butternut scurries from his hiding spot to the dish she’s just set down, and begins to feast on his wet and dry mix while Rowan brushes her fingers over his soft auburn fur. “You have to learn how to be patient, you know that?” She murmurs with a quirk of her brow. “You’d think after ten years, you’d have figured that out.”

The cat meows in response at her between bites of his food, and Rowan smiles softly as she gives one last stroke to his plush fur before straightening herself up and grabbing her mug of tea from the kitchen counter. It takes her the usual three steps to reach the small living room of her apartment, and she sets her mug on its usual spot on the coffee table as she grabs her journal from the couch, where she’d left it that morning, just as she always does when she realizes she’s running late for work. She’d hoped that owning her own flower shop would have cured her of her perpetual lateness that had plagued her childhood, but it seems that her lack of punctuality is just one of the many traits she’d inherited from her mother, in addition to being one of her least favourite traits she’d inherited from her mother.

“What did you get up to while I was at work today, Butternut? Anything interesting?” Rowan asks, only half-rhetorically as she picks up her mug again once settled into the couch. “Any important business I should know about?”

Rowan receives the usual meow in reply, and she hums thoughtfully in the back of her throat as she takes a small sip of tea. The boiling liquid scalds her tongue just the way she’s grown accustomed to—another trait she picked up from her mother, who had had a habit of setting down her teacups and promptly forgetting their existence for the better part of an hour. Drinking the piping hot liquid immediately, Rowan had learned the hard way, saves her the disgruntlement that comes with discovering ice-cold tea three hours after she’s made it. 

Blowing over the steaming mug, Rowan watches as Butternut continues to munch on his food. “I thought as much,” She replies to the cat seriously, giving Butternut a stern look as he continues to eat his food and pay her little regard. “I told you to stay away from Mrs. Piper’s cat, didn’t I? We both know Zipper is a bit of a heart breaker, and I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Butternut squeaks out another meow, this one sounding more indignant than the last, which Rowan greatly appreciates. It’s easier to talk to the cat without sounding crazy, she rationalizes (as she has hundreds of times before), when the cat’s responses vary in tone, as if he can actually understand her.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, you know that?” Rowan clicks her tongue as she opens her journal, reading over her messily scrawled entry from that morning that she had barely managed to finish. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, and—”

A tapping sound from outside the living room window interrupts Rowan’s one-sided conversation, and she twists her head towards the source of noise with curiosity sparking across her face. When the tapping occurs again, sharper and more insistent this time around, Rowan stands up urgently, nearly spilling her tea in her haste to set down the mug and walk the short distance to the window. Although she can’t see anything that could have caused the noise when she arrives in front of the pane, Rowan’s curiosity is still unsatisfyingly unsatiated, and she quickly flips the latch on the window in order to push it open, the half-rusted mechanics squeaking in protest as they always do before she leans out towards her fire escape. 

With half her body now hanging out of her living room window, Rowan swiftly scans over the familiar view of Greenwich Village. Having lived in the Village her entire life, Rowan has to admit that there’s a satisfying, pleasurable comfort in her stomach every time she looks at the skyline of the neighbourhood. It’s a feeling of home, she thinks, as well as belonging, and she knows that she could never find anywhere else quite like it. There was a reason that her mother chose this as the place to settle down after moving from London; she had always told Rowan that the city called to her, even from across the Atlantic Ocean, like a siren stringing her towards her deepest desires. And when Rowan has the honour of watching the orange autumn sun sink down in the sky, staining the tops of buildings in a burnt glaze, she feels the same call. And, in a perhaps more easily explainable way, the Village reminds her of her mother. She’d never be able to leave it, even if she wanted to.

A now familiar tapping pulls Rowan from her admiration of the city she’s called home for her entire life, and the young woman cranes her neck to the left just in time to settle her eyes on the source of the sound, her brows creasing together in bemusement as she does so.

The crow perched on the edge of her fire escape has to have the blackest and shiniest feathers that Rowan has ever seen. The onyx tone of its wings is accented by the golden light of the setting sun, which sparkles in the creature’s knowledgeable eyes. Knowledgeable, Rowan observes, because the crows eyes seem to meet her own, both with purpose and some sort of recognition. 

Rowan cocks her head to the side as she engages in the staring contest with the bird, her state of mind growing more and more confused and unsettled with every passing moment. Were crows known to be the kind of bird that stared back at you? She wondered, her mouth opening and closing as she pondered the question without speaking it aloud. And were they not skittish? Rowan had made enough ruckus as she opened her window that she would have thought the bird would have long flown away by now, and yet, its piercing black eyes continue to stare back at her own. It’s ridiculous, and she knows this, but Rowan can’t make herself look away. Who loses a staring contest to a crow? She scoffs internally, leaning a little further over the ledge of her window. She refuses to be the first to blink. Surely it’s not that hard to outlast a bird; after all, she’s the one with a brain bigger than a ping bong ball. She can outlast a bird in a staring contest. Not that any sane person would ever actually challenge a bird to a staring contest, of course, but Rowan is sure stranger things have happened. And, furthermore, she’s not the one who started this. If anything, the bird challenged her—winning the imagined contest is a matter of honour.

And then Butternut jumps out the window, effectively breaking her perfect concentration, and sets all hell loose.

If Rowan hadn’t been so distracted by the crow’s strange behaviour, she would have remembered the dangers that come with leaving her window wide open as she had. Part of the reason the old mechanisms had squeaked so much when she yanked the fixture open was that she—save the few times she’d burned something while cooking and had to air out her apartment from the smoke of her failed dinner endeavors—very rarely opened the window more than a crack. Just as Rowan has a long list of troubling habits, so does Butternut, and one of those habits includes jumping out of open windows and giving Rowan a heart attack. 

The young florist had discovered this habit the first day she met him when she was twelve years old and found him wandering the streets of New York. His burnt orange coat had been speckled with mud and dirt, grown long from what seemed to be months of a lack of attention, but that hadn’t stopped her from scooping the surprisingly pliant cat into her arms and carrying him home to her mother. She’d been prepared to beg and plead on behalf of the animal and her right to keep him, but as it turned out, that hadn’t been necessary; all it took was one look at the poor creature, and Winnifred began to fill the copper sink with hot water and soap to bathe him. Rowan had been delighted at her mother’s acceptance of the new pet—until said pet jumped from the counter and out their kitchen window, which had been open to release steam from the soup Winnifred had been making. To this day, Rowan remembers peering out the window with horror as Butternut scurried along the ledge outside of their sixth floor apartment, and how she’d had to coax him back to safety with strings of shredded cheese. As terrifying as it had been, however, Rowan had learned her lesson—if Butternut is in the room, windows have to be closed. There had been a few close calls over the years, but never anything as bad as that first day, when she thought she would lose her new friend before she’d even had the chance to truly befriend him.

Until now.

The moment Butternut’s paws meet the rusted metal of the fire escape, he bounds after the crow, leaping for the ledge of the fire escape before Rowan can even absorb what’s happening. The crow, however, doesn’t have the same processing delay that she does, and flies away before the cat can sink a claw into his shiny feathers. Unfortunately, Butternut has always been determined, and by the time Rowan has scurried out through the window and onto the fire escape, Butternut has already begun bounding down the rusted metal steps and onto the street below.

“Fuck—” Rowan curses loudly, nearly tripping over herself in her hurry to clamber back from the window ledge and into her apartment. Grabbing only her keys from the catch-all table by her door, Rowan throws open the door of her apartment and slams it behind her, not bothering to check if it’s locked before hurling herself towards the stairwell of her building. 

Brushing her chestnut hair out of her eyes as she rounds the corner of the stairwell, Rowan has to give credit where credit is due; for a cat that’s over a decade old, Butternut moves fast, and that knowledge only incites more intensity in the girl as she tears through the stairwell and onto the street. Rowan pants as she surveys the bustling crowds, scouring the bottom of every black and grey raincoat until she just barely catches the yellowish hue of Butternut’s tail disappearing around the corner.

“Butternut!” She yells loudly, receiving a scoff and a dirty look from an old lady whose ear she’d just accidentally yelled in. “Sorry, ma’am, I just—sorry!” Rowan offers one more quick apology before dashing down the street towards Butternut. “Come back!”

Although she does her best to avoid pedestrians around her in her pursuit of her pet, Rowan still manages to ram her shoulders into four different people as she runs through the crowded Greenwich Village street. She spits out speedy apologies whenever she does so, her hickory eyes flashing with what she hopes is sincerity and not annoyance, but she doesn’t stop to say anything more; already, Butternut is disappearing in a sea of New Yorker ankles, and she’s worried that if she doesn’t grab him soon, someone else will.

After five blocks of pursuit—how does an aging cat have better stamina than she does?—Butternut seems to disappear completely, his fluffy tail nowhere in sight amongst the throngs of people. Rowan slows her pace to a light jog, her legs aching and lungs burning in protest as she pants so loud that passersby keep giving her concerned stares. There’s a feeling of dread beginning to coil itself around Rowan’s intestines, and she’s not sure if it’s the fear of losing Butternut, or the oncoming asthma attack, but it nearly doubles Rowan over as she struggles to move breath in and out of her lungs.

“I need—to work—out more—” Rowan puffs to herself, folding one hand over her stomach as she continues to push her way through the crowded sidewalk at a reduced pace. “I—” Her eyes widen as she spies an amber tail among the crowds. “Butternut!”

Although her loud exclamation once again startles an old lady (seriously, just how many old ladies are wandering around the village right now?), Rowan doesn’t stop to apologize this time, and instead simply offers a flash of an apologetic grimace before jogging after the fluff of golden fur that she just caught ducking into the open door of a shop.

Still wheezing loudly when she reaches the storefront, Rowan manages to crane her neck up to catch sight of the sign above her. The white washed wood plank with dark green letters reads Verbena & Birch Apothecary, and Rowan only takes a moment to admire the craftsmanship that must have gone into carving the plant sprigs next to the logo before she remembers the reason she’s here, and yanks the wooden door open to run inside.

“Butternut?” She calls out, still breathless from her impromptu marathon down the streets of Greenwich Village. “C’mon, stinky—” Her eyes scan over the countless shelves lined with delicate-looking glass bottles, and a feeling of dread grows in her stomach as she tucks her wild locks behind her ears. All it would take is one pounce from Butternut to destroy everything on these shelves, something she wouldn’t put past the mischievous cat that just scampered down five city blocks. “You can’t be in here! Let’s go!”

Rowan pauses for a moment and listens closely for the sound of familiar paws against the wooden floor, or the usual indignant meowed response when she calls Butternut stinky, or any sign that the cat is wandering the breakable-filled store, but hears nothing save for her own laboured breathing. Bracing her hand against her heaving stomach again, Rowan lets out a groan, hanging her head and letting her hair fall into her face as she bends over, submitting to another cramp that’s working its way through her insides.

“Does he belong to you?”

The lilting British accent that rings through the quiet shop pricks Rowan’s ears with familiarity as she snaps herself back into more appropriate posture, her palm still massaging her belly over her shirt. “What—?” Rowan whips her head around, searching for the source of the voice behind the towering shelves surrounding her. A flicker of movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Rowan turns slowly towards a tower of white candles organized in glass jars as the owner of the disembodied voice emerges from behind it.

The first thing Rowan notices—to her immense relief—is Butternut happily situated in the man’s arms, purring contentedly as he stretches out languidly, seemingly pleased by the stranger’s body heat. This odd response is the second thing Rowan notes, as Butternut has never had an affinity for those he doesn’t know, and usually prefers to claw at strangers rather than flop over within their grasps. The third thing that Rowan notices, however, might be the oddest thing of all; the stranger in front of her is, in fact, no stranger at all.

Or, at the very least, she’s met him before.  Although his clothing isn’t soaked to the bone from a surprise thunder storm, his curls a bit lighter in colour and bouncier than ever when dry, and his cheeks displaying a tint of rosiness to them in the heat of the shop, Rowan recognizes Harry the moment she’s able to get a good look at him, even before noting the forest green apron with his name embroidered in the corner over his white t-shirt and tan cardigan. It’s his eyes, she thinks, cocking her head to the side as she appraises the familiar young man in front of her. The way his jade irises appear to swirl and shift in the light filtering through the storefront windows is so unmistakable that it’s branded into Rowan’s head from just their one brief meeting. And if the way those eyes are crinkling in the corners as his expression twists into a grin, Rowan can tell that Harry recognizes her, as well.

“Yes,” The florist finally replies to him, breathing a sigh of relief as she steps towards him. “Yes, that’s my cat. I’m so sorry, he just escaped from my apartment and ran all the way here, and I couldn’t stop him before he got inside—”

“It’s alright,” Harry assures her with a small smile that tugs at the corner of his reddened lips as he scratches Butternut behind his ears. “Worse things have stepped into this shop, I can assure you. And given how cute this particular intruder is, I can’t bring myself to mind it.”

Rowan’s upturned lips, while tentative, slowly lift to match the grin on his face as the full relief of knowing that Butternut is safe washes over her. “Thank you, really,” She reaches out and scoops Butternut into her arms, pressing the cat into her chest protectively while ignoring the burning feeling of Harry’s fingertips brushing over her own. “He didn’t break anything?”

“Oh, no, everything’s fine,” Harry says easily, waving one nail polished hand without an air of concern or notice of the contact. “No harm, no foul, and all that.”

“That’s a relief,” Rowan bounces Butternut in her arms absentmindedly as she glances around the shop, appraising the fragile wares more thoroughly than she had when she first entered. “His second worst habit after jumping out of windows is breaking things, and a lot of things here seem breakable.”

Rowan isn’t exaggerating for effect. Now that the relief of finding Butternut has uncoiled her stomach and she can take a moment to really look around the shop, she’s amazed that she managed to collect him without paying a small fortune for items destroyed in his wake. Every wall of the store is lined with a wooden built-in shelf, each one filled with an assortment of products, with the types of products varying from each wall. It’s much more organized than she’d thought at her first glance, and she allows herself a moment to sweep over each product with errant curiosity.

The wall to her left has shelves labeled with what she assumes are different kinds of teas, sorted by their uses, such as “awake and alive,” “blood pressure support,” and “happy tummy,” as well as sorted by flavour and blend. Another shelf is lined with small dropper bottles labeled with various types of oils, and the shelf to the right of that one is lined with small brown bottles labeled as various tinctures. The opposite wall to her right hosts a wide variety of salves and balms, also sorted by uses such as “super healing,” “anti-anxiety,” and “mood boost.” Along the back wall are rows of bulk bins usually found in the grocery store, except these bins are filled with large amounts of ground dried herbs, all labeled neatly to match everything else in the store. Despite the great quantities, however, there are also jars filled with unground herbs still attached to their host plants sitting neatly above the bins. The last wall, however, has the greatest variety of anything else in the store, and stocks row upon row of various crystals, stones, and minerals, all hosting neat labels with their properties and meanings underneath the names. And if all that product wasn’t enough—enough to pique her interest as well as her anxiety at the thought of Butternut roaming free in here—there’s stand-alone shelves throughout the store, displaying more tinctures, oils, and products, as well as candles, incense, and things that Rowan can’t even put a name to.

If Harry’s tone when he interrupts her observations is any indication, then her curiosity about the products is written clear across her face. “See anything interesting?” He asks conversationally, tucking his ringed hands into the pockets of his apron.

“I’d think it’s all interesting,” Rowan murmurs in reply, keeping a firm grasp on Butternut as she steps closer to a shelf of incense, squinting her eyes to read the—quite messy—handwritten labels. “What is all this stuff?”

“Well, they’re a wide variety of things, but to put it simply…they’re natural and organic products. I make them all here, in the back of my shop,” Harry untucks one hand to motion his thumb over his shoulder as he watches Rowan lean down to smell the incense, Buttercup meowing indignantly in her arms as she tightens her grip once more. “Well, except for the incense and candles. I have a supplier in Brooklyn that provides those for me, as well as some of the herbs. But all the oils and balms…I make those in house.”

Rowan doesn’t miss the hint of pride that lingers in the back of Harry’s voice, nor can she blame him for it. If she’d concocted all of this, she’d have more than just a hint of pride. “You make these?” Rowan repeats back in amazement, walking slowly to another shelf, this one housing a variety of creams and balms. Each row has a neatly labeled tester pot, and she runs her finger over the cool glass of the jars as she reads the labels out loud. 

“‘Patience’… ‘prosperity’… ‘protection’…” Rowan tilts her head towards Harry and raises a brow as the alphabetized names fall from her tongue. “How does a cream offer protection? Protection from what? Dry skin?”

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch. “Well, yes. Among other things,” He strides over to stand next to her, picking up the tester jar labeled “protection,” and dips a jewelled finger into the surface of the light cream. “May I?” He requests, extending his other hand to her.

“Oh, uh…” Rowan shifts Butternut’s weight to her left arm, freeing up her right arm for Harry to take between his fingers. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Harry’s left hand grips her wrist with a warm and gentle touch, the curves of his fingers molding into the shape of her body easily. Despite feeling it a few moments earlier, Rowan isn’t prepared for the strange feeling that hums up and down her arm when Harry’s skin meets her own. Her walnut irises capture his own hunter pair, and the question that flashes through them quickly tells her that she’s not the only one noticing the buzz.

Harry, however, seems to be better at keeping his expression unreadable, because as soon as the question appears in his own eyes, it disappears again, his gaze returning to her hand. His fingers begin to dance over her wrist as he carefully rubs the cool balm into her skin, and Rowan watches the practiced motion for a moment before her attention slips to the strange tattoo that occupies the back of his hand, the one that she’d noticed in her own shop a few days before. It almost seems to dance over his skin, flexing and flowing with the movement of his muscles as he works the cream into her own palm. 

If the smell of sage and sandalwood filling the air hadn’t distracted her, Rowan might have begun to center her attention on the lithe movements of Harry’s calloused fingers over her hand, and how warm and welcoming his touch felt along her body, which would have led to her thinking about his hands traveling up her arm, following the natural line of her body to her collar bones, and then—  

 “That smells so good,” She says quickly, struggling to keep her voice balanced and even as she allows the fragrance to fill her senses, rather than her thoughts, which seem to be getting away from her at the moment. “Is that sage?”

Admittedly, the smell is quite distracting all on its own, even without Harry’s tantalizing touch working the scented balm into her skin, but Rowan can’t help but think that the relaxed and tranquil feeling flowing through her body has less to do with aromatherapy and more to do with the way Harry’s fingertips are pressing between her knuckles. Despite her brief encounters with him, there’s a familiar feeling in the way they interact; when he touches her, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable or unfamiliar, like the touch of a stranger should feel. Instead, the sensation that hums over her skin and settles inside her chest reminds her of the warm burn of a hearth, as if her body were a home that has been waiting for him to arrive and light the fire for the night that will keep the dark and damp away.

“I’m glad you think so,” Harry’s low and lilting voice cuts through Rowan’s trance as he rubs the last of the cream into her skin. Although his fingers cease their gentle massage, he still keeps her wrist clasped within his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over her knuckles absentmindedly. 

“I make the oils for these myself. This one has some sage, angelica, clove, and sandalwood. I mix it with organic cocoa butter, organic coconut oil, and beeswax from my supplier in Brooklyn, and melt it all together while—” Harry stops talking abruptly, his poetry-like tone cutting off with a nervous glance and a sheepish smile. “Actually, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. S’a trade secret, you know. If I tell you, then you might tell someone else, and soon I’ll be boarding up my windows because everyone is cooking up their own balms in their kitchens. Won’t have any need for me anymore.”

Rowan, who had been more focused on the hypnotic cadence of Harry’s voice to process exactly what he’d been saying, offers a half-hearted laugh as she shifts Buttercup within her arm. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” She does her best to reassure him, but it’s hard to sound convincing when Harry squeezes her hand within his own, because for some reason, Harry is still cradling her wrist, which only stokes the hearth within her chest. “I don’t really understand it, anyways. You said it…offers protection?” Rowan blinks at his simple nod of explanation. “Um…protection from what?” 

Harry loosely lifts his shoulders into a noncommittal shrug. “Anything, really. Whatever the wearer feels like they need protection from.”

“Okay, but…if I felt like I needed protection from…I don’t know, a robber…” Rowan spins an imaginary scenario as she speaks, shifting Butternut in her arm once more as the cat begins to fuss (she should extract her hand from Harry’s. It would make holding him a lot easier). “How would a cream protect me from that?”

“It’s not so much the cream as what it’s made from,” Picking up the jar again with his free hand (despite his eyes flickering to the increasingly annoyed cat within her grasp, he still hasn’t relented his own grasp on her), Harry twists the container so that the ingredient list faces Rowan, leaving him to speak from memory as he recites it. “Sage, angelica, clove, sandalwood…all of those things have protective properties. Their aromas bring comfort and tranquility to those who smell them. Using them in a cream allows their fragrance to go anywhere with the wearer, so it can bring continual comfort. Think about that symbol above your door, the one you said your mum used to draw. That was for protection, wasn’t it? It’s the same idea.”

“Oh…” Realization sparks in Rowan’s mind as she glances around the shop again, taking in every item with newly opened eyes. “Oh. Like in a metaphysical sense, right? Like how lavender is meant to bring luck?”

Harry’s brows arch up in surprise at the connection as he sets the jar back on the shelf. “Exactly like that, yes,” He says slowly, his emerald eyes watching Rowan’s renewed examination carefully as he finally relinquishes her wrist. “How did you know that?”

Rowan clutches Buttercup tighter to her chest, and while the movement is easier with both arms at her disposal, she can’t deny that she misses the sensations Harry’s touch provided her. “It’s another thing my mom told me when I was a kid. She always kept a little lavender plant in a window box.” Her eyes settle on the glass bottle filled with lavender sprigs on the shelf nearest to her, the sight jogging memories she hadn’t played in her mind in quite some time. “She used to make me lavender and chamomile tea when I was a kid, because I had trouble sleeping sometimes. It always knocked me right out,” The florist shrugs lightly. “You know, looking back, she probably mixed in some Nyquil too, but…”

Although Harry offers a small chuckle at her joke, the sound that falls from his mouth is strained, and when Rowan turns her attention back to the man again, his face has shifted into an expression she can’t read. His previously relaxed brow has furrowed and creased, and his cherry lips have transformed from an easygoing grin to a thin pursed line. The dimples that had adorned his rosy cheeks have all but disappeared, and without them, Harry looks ten years older, and ten times more intimidating.

Rowan clears her throat in an attempt to ease the newfound tension. “That—that was a joke,” She mumbles with a weak laugh, stroking the amber fur of Butternut’s back as he fusses once more. “She, uh, she didn’t do that.” Turning back to the shelf of teas, Rowan scans over the labels swiftly to find one like she’d described. “You sell one too, huh? A bedtime tea?”

Harry gives a terse nod of his head as his eyes follow the gesture of Rowan’s chin, his gaze seemingly glued to every one of her actions. “I do, yeah. Would you—?” Although he cuts off the question before he can even ask it, he only pauses to run his tongue over his darkened lips once before beginning again. “Would you like to try some? I can make a little sample tin for you. Or…” When his irises meet her own, Rowan finds they’ve shifted once more, moving further and further from the brightness she’d first seen upon their initial meeting. “If there’s nothing here you’d like to try…I live above the shop, in the flat upstairs,” He jerks his chin upwards, as if the motion is supposed to convince her he’s telling the truth. “I’ve been testing out some new blends that you might like, if you want to try them…?”

The sudden invitation to come up to his apartment isn’t exactly unwanted, but still leaves Rowan taken aback nevertheless. It’s not so much the invitation itself, Rowan reasons, her fingers massaging down Butternut’s back lightly, but the way it was delivered. Every interaction she’s had with Harry so far has felt organic, as natural and easy as breathing. This, however…this request feels anything but. “Oh. Uh—”

“You’re under no obligation, of course,” Harry clarifies, straightening the jars on the shelf while his cheeks stain a darker shade of crimson. “I just thought—you may like to see more of—of some things I’ve made, or—”

“No, I would!” Rowan’s heart hammers in her chest as Harry stumbles over his words, the apparent anxiety in his strained explanation endearing him in a way she hadn’t expected. “I would, and it sounds wonderful, but…” She raises Butternut in her arms in lieu of an explanation. She’s not exactly sure what’s bothering him, but from the way he’s been fussing throughout their entire conversation—especially when he’d behaved so well while in Harry’s arms—it’s clear that there’s somewhere he wants to run to. Or something he wants to run from. “I should be getting this guy home.”

A sheepish look paints itself onto Harry’s features, dragging down his eyes and creased brow, and before Rowan can say anything else, an apology tumbles from his downturned lips. “Right, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—to make you uncomfortable—”

“I’m not uncomfortable!” Rowan assures him just as quickly, giving a firm shake of her head as reinforcement. “I—actually, I’m very comfortable with you, which is strange, given we just met—” Her own cheeks flush at the candid admission, growing to match Harry’s in hue. “But I just—I have to get Butternut home, but—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, it’s fine—”

“But if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to come over for tea.”

Harry’s hasty apologies cut off before they can echo out of his throat, the unspoken words practically visible as they hang on the tip of his tongue. “You would?”

“I would,” Rowan confirms, the corners of her lips tugging up at the endearingly dumbfounded expression that sweeps over Harry’s entire face. “Maybe 2 o’clock, if that works for you?”

Tugging on his chestnut curls as his grin begins to grow once more, Harry gives a sharp nod of agreement. “That would be wonderful, yeah. I’ll see you here at 2 o’clock.”

…

At 1:59PM the next day, Rowan stands beneath the cream and hunter sign reading Verbena and Birch Apothecary, and re-evaluates her life choices. 

She’d like to consider herself a smart girl. Her mother had raised her to be thoughtful, introspective, and aware of her surroundings, as well as the people in them. If she had a bad vibe from Harry, or believed him to be dangerous in any way, she would turn on her heel and march back down the streets of the Village until she reached her own apartment. Or, even more, she probably wouldn’t have left her apartment in the first place, and would have let 2 o’clock come and go without a second guess. But Harry hasn’t given her any reason to think that he could hurt her; if he’d wanted to hurt her, it would’ve been much easier to have dragged her upstairs the day before. No one had seen her quickly ducking into his shop, and she’d been so busy chasing Butternut that she hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Their meeting today, however, has been pre-planned, meaning that Harry could assume that she’s told someone where she’s gone, or at the very least, left a note in her apartment in case police search it after she goes missing. There’s no reason for her to be concerned.

Then again, Rowan remembers the stranger danger lessons given to her in elementary school by New York police officers, and is reminded once more that the decision she’s making is probably a stupid one.

It’s just… Rowan touches the stone pendant hanging around her neck. The shining tiger’s eye had belonged to her mother before she passed, and Rowan could remember her rubbing a worried thumb over the smooth surface any time something was troubling her. Rowan herself thumbs over the honey-streaked stone, her own brow furrowing. Just.

It’s just Harry. It’s just something about him, something coded within his emerald eyes that makes her question everything she’d been taught. Of course she shouldn’t be having tea with a strange man she’s spoken to for barely fifteen minutes over the course of two encounters. Of course she shouldn’t accept an invitation into his home as if she was a lamb volunteering for her own slaughter. But Harry doesn’t feel like a stranger. At least, he feels unlike any stranger she’s ever encountered before.

The minute hand of the watch on her wrist slips past the twelve, leaving Rowan with no more time to dwell on the matter. Taking a deep breath as she tucks her shoulder length waves behind her ears, she pulls open the front door of the shop and steps inside.

Harry is standing behind the counter, writing in the leatherbound journal she’d noticed on his person the day he stumbled into her own shop. Upon hearing the tinkle of the chime above the door, his head turns up, and his emerald gaze meets her own.

“Rowan, hi,” Harry smiles easily at her as he shuts the journal, looping the leather tie around the bindings with practiced ease. “Right on time.”

“For once in my life,” Rowan jokes in an attempt to hide her nerves. She slips her hands into the pockets of the worn trench coat she’d found at an estate sale the previous year, trying to curb her habit of twisting her rings around her fingers when she’s nervous. “Sorry, am I interrupting your work?”

Tucking the leather bound journal underneath the counter in one smooth motion, Harry shakes his head. “No, not at all. It’s been a fairly slow afternoon. Not much to interrupt.”

“Really? No stray cats have run into your shop today?”

The small laugh that falls from Harry’s lips is light and easy, and lodges itself somewhere deep within Rowan’s chest in a way she doesn’t quite understand. “No, but the day is still young.”

Harry steps out from behind the counter, and for the first time, Rowan notices that his outfit is devoid of the hunter apron he’d worn the day before. Instead, Harry is dressed in a chunky knit chestnut coloured sweater with green detailing around the cuffs and hem. His pants are olive toned, baggy in their fit, and pool just above his black vans. He looks comfy. Cozy, Rowan thinks. Like he could laze back on a couch in the evening, his hands a bit sooty from stoking the fire, but that doesn’t matter, because he’ll laugh and try to swipe a charcoal covered finger over her cheek, and leave fingerprints along her skin when he—

“So you said you live upstairs?” Rowan’s voice is breathless when she pulls herself from her daydream, and she fidgets with the tiger’s eye around her neck in an attempt to calm herself with the familiar motion.

“Uh, yeah, I do. I—sorry, is that…” Harry’s gaze drops from her eyes to her fingers, watching as she twists the pendant up and down the old chain. “Is that tiger’s eye?”

Rowan glances down at the pendant caught between her fingers. The honey-streaked stone is cut in the shape of an oval and set into a metal backing, worn smooth from two generations of Frances women habitually rubbing it. It’s pretty, to be sure, but it’s never drawn anyone’s attention so quickly. But then again, Rowan’s sure the stone is stocked on the shelves behind her; it’s no wonder Harry’s noticed it.

“It is, yeah. My mom gave it to me,” Rowan says, letting the pendant fall back against her navy turtleneck. Technically, her mother didn’t give it to her. In all actuality, Rowan had claimed it after her mother passed away five years ago. However, now didn’t seem the time to dump all her mommy issues onto a virtual stranger, no matter how familiar he felt. The death of your only parental figure is more of a second date conversation, she thinks.

Not that they’ve had a first date. This is tea. She’s just here to try tea that Harry’s made. This rendezvous probably falls more under the category of a sales pitch than a date, and Rowan’s not sure why that fact makes her stomach churn in discontent, but she’s determined to ignore it.

“It’s lovely,” Harry says, seemingly unaware of the debate that’s playing out in Rowan’s mind. “May I?”

He reaches his right hand towards her, and Rowan’s eyes once again focus on the strange symbol inked into his smooth skin. A shiver runs up her spine as the uncomfortably familiar feeling of deja vu settles over her. His words are identical to yesterday, when he offered her a sample of the protection balm he made. But underneath that memory, there’s something else, something that settles at the very edge of her mind’s eye, just out of reach of clarity. That same phrase— “May I?”— echoed in a lilting British accent, a flash of a ringed, tattooed hand tugging at blush coloured sheets, the dangle of her tiger’s eye pendant over a flushed chest that’s inked with tattoos she can’t quite place…

The hand in front of her pauses, and its owner’s eyes find her own. Harry flicks his eyebrows up as if to repeat his question, and Rowan realizes he’s waiting for her to give him permission to examine her necklace.

“Yeah, sorry—” She hastily reaches behind her neck to undo the clasp, brushing her bobbed hair out of her way. “Let me just—”

She cuts off her speech with a stuttered gasp as Harry’s nimble fingers find the pendant that hangs over her turtleneck, carefully securing the stone between his digits without touching her.

It’s not until this moment that Rowan realizes that Harry is standing close enough to her that she can see the flecks of gold in his emerald eyes, which are trained on the pendant in a focused manner. The tip of his nose is flushed the same shade as the strawberry of his mouth, and the hue also skirts along the apples of his cheeks, barely visible with the concentrated expression that’s painted on his face.

Rowan doesn’t know much about Harry, but she stocks this new knowledge—how he’s careful to ask for her permission to move towards her, but merges his personal space bubble with her own once that permission is given—in the back of her mind. It’s so familiar that it produces an ache deep within her chest that confounds her.

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Harry keeps his eyes on the pendant as he twists it between his fingers. “You said it was your mother’s?”

Rowan forces herself to sound calm and collected when she answers. “I did, yeah. She used to call it her lucky charm.”

“Tiger’s eye provides protection,” Harry murmurs the words quietly as he lets go of the necklace. It falls lightly back onto Rowan’s chest. “It’s a lovely piece. She was very kind to give it to you.”

“She was, yes,” Rowan fidgets with the necklace, fixing its position around her neck. “She’s—she’s a very kind person.”

Rowan’s not exactly sure why she slips into the present tense to describe her mother. Sure, she’s already decided that the death of a parent is a second date topic, but she’s also already decided that this isn’t a date. From past experience, she knows it’s better to rip off the “my mother passed unexpectedly when I was twenty years old and it tore apart my life” bandaid sooner rather than later, but she also knows that most men tend to stray away from the topic of mothers when they invite women up to their apartments for tea.

Then again, Rowan thinks ruefully as she follows Harry behind the counter a moment later at his request, Harry hasn’t acted like most men she’s ever met before.

The small corridor that leads towards the back of the shop is dark, lacking the sunlight that illuminates the front of the store. Instead, the floor creaks under Rowan’s feet, accented by the click of the heeled boots she may or may not have worn to bring herself closer to Harry’s height.

Harry pauses before an open doorway, and Rowan can smell the room before she sees it— lavender and sage, lemon and cloves, cinnamon and rosehips, and a thousand other scent combinations that Rowan can’t name. She peers over Harry’s shoulder to see a cluttered workbench, not unlike her own, covered in little glass bottles, bunches of greenery, and the familiar petals of yarrow flowers that she’d sold to Harry previously. Along the back wall, under a small window, is a row of bottles with different oils inside, and to the left is a gas range with two separate pots set on top. One of the pots is still steaming, the vapor coiling lazily above its contents, despite the range being off (Rowan checks with a flick of her eyes).

“This is where I make most of my inventory,” Harry says with a motion of his hand. “I had to add the range myself when I bought the place, but the butcher’s block and the work spaces were already here. I got pretty lucky.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Rowan replies, and she pauses a moment, waiting for the invitation to step inside and explore. When the invitation doesn’t come, and Harry turns his attention to the door to the left of the corridor, just before the entrance to the back room, Rowan can’t deny that she’s disappointed. However, part of her understands; she hates when anyone steps into her backroom. The organized chaos is always just one stray hand away from descending into madness, and what she stores in her workroom isn’t nearly as breakable as what’s inside Harry’s.

Instead, Rowan turns her gaze to the door that Harry’s unlocking with a key from his pocket. The key itself is small and brass, with a tarnished, well-worn handle and a detailed head. The object resembles something Rowan would expect to see in a movie set in the early 1900s rather than on the keyring of someone around her age, but it fits perfectly into the lock on the inconspicuous door. As Harry slips the weathered key back into his pocket, Rowan notes that it’s the only key on the keyring. She can’t say she’s surprised that there’s no car key present— hardly anyone she knows in New York has a car, much less their license. She’s one of the few of her friends that does, and that’s only because her mother had insisted she learn when she was eighteen. However, she is surprised to see no key to the shop on the ring. Rowan has three separate locks on the door to her own store, and keeps all the keys jumbled together with her apartment set.

“Like I mentioned, I live just above the shop,” Harry interrupts her pondering as he nods up the steep set of dark stairs. “Follow me, and try to watch your step. These stairs tend to trip people the first time they climb them.”

“Right, okay,” Rowan does as Harry says, following his practiced steps at the pace he sets. She lasts about three stairs before stumbling, and grabs hold of the worn railing to catch herself before she falls forward.

Harry turns around as much as the small space lets him, and the look on his face is concerned, but not surprised. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just regretting my choice of shoes right now,” Rowan laughs airily, hoping the darkness of the stairwell hides the blush she’s sure is working its way over her cheeks. “You really weren’t kidding, huh?”

“No, I wasn’t,” A set of fingers brushes over her hand that clings to the railing, and there’s a moment of hesitation before Harry tugs her hand away from the railing and grasps it gently within his own. “Here, just go a little slower. I’ll help you.”

It’s clear that Harry’s dashed up and down these stairs hundreds of times, because he has no trouble navigating the steep flight with his body turned sideways to guide Rowan to the top. His hand stays locked around hers, comforting without being controlling, until he pulls her onto the cramped landing at the top of the stairs.

“There we go,” He grins at her, his dimples barely visible in the dim light as he releases her hand. “You made it.”

“I did,” Rowan hopes the embarrassment isn’t detectable in her voice. “Only almost died once.”

Harry laughs, low and melodic, as he fishes in his pocket for something, and pulls his ringed hand back out with the same key he used to unlock the door to the stairwell. He presses the key into the silver lock on the door, and Rowan is surprised to hear the click of the lock two seconds later.

With a quick twist of the squeaky doorknob, Harry pushes open the door and leads Rowan into his apartment.

Although she’s only known Harry for a short time, she can’t really say she’s surprised by anything she sees in front of her. Harry’s apartment is big by New York standards, with exposed brick walls and greenery draped along every shelf. There’s a large set of windows along the far wall that sends a spark of jealousy down Rowan’s spine, and a velvet emerald-coloured couch that turns the spark into a flame. The scent of incense floats through the air, evidenced by the multiple holders she sees scattered along the living room, and pressed against the left wall is a bookshelf that holds multiple aged books set in leather and embossed with gold.

Harry’s apartment is earthy, and centered, and quite possibly the most beautiful space Rowan has ever seen.

“This is gorgeous, Harry,” She says breathlessly, her hand rising of its own accord to touch the frame of a print hung in the hallway by the door. “How long have you lived here?”

“God, about…eight years now, maybe? To tell you the truth, I think I’ve lost count,” Harry toes off his vans, and Rowan follows suit, tugging off her own boots and thanking her past self for deciding to spend the extra time to find matching socks this morning. “Can I take your coat?”

“Sure, thank you,” Rowan begins to slip the trench coat over her shoulders, unsurprised when she feels a second set of hands help slide the fabric down her arms. She’s adjusting to Harry’s easy way with touch— revels in it, actually, which is new for her.

Harry hangs her coat on the stand just beside the door, and that same dimpled smile is on his face when he turns back around. “The kitchen is just through here, I’ll show— Jesus—”

Rowan nearly slams into Harry’s back as he comes to a quick stop in front of her, his arms braced against either wall in the small front hallway. Before she can stumble more from the sudden pause, his hand reaches behind him, finding her waist and steadying her.

“Harry?” Rowan’s skin feels as if it’s burning underneath her sweater, the sensation warmest at her core where Harry is touching her. “Is everything—?”

“Yes, sorry, it’s just—” Harry lets go of her with a sigh, stepping over what appears to be a large smoke coloured furry pillow in the middle of the hallway. “It’s just Clint.”

Rowan regards him with confusion, her chestnut eyes searching his own emerald for an explanation. “Clint? Who’s Clint?”

“That’s Clint,” He nods down to the furry pillow and nudges it with his sock covered foot. The pillow twitches, stretches when provoked, and Rowan suddenly realizes it’s not a pillow at all, but in fact—

“You have a rabbit named Clint?”

Harry’s already walking towards the kitchen, unconcerned about Clint’s nap spot that blocks the entryway of his apartment. “I do.”

A million questions flood through Rowan’s head, a million different things she could say about this new tidbit of Harry trivia. But instead of asking how owning a rabbit works in a New York City apartment, why said rabbit seems to have an infinity for inconvenient nap locations, or if tripping over him is an everyday occurrence (which, based on Harry’s exasperated sighs, she thinks it might be), the comment that leaves her mouth is, “Clint is kind of a weird name for a rabbit.”

Harry pauses his movements in the kitchen, one hand frozen on a mahogany cabinet while the other holds a jar of a dried tea blend. “You think so?”

Rowan flinches inwardly, still stuck frozen behind the rabbit in the hallway. “I— shit, sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. It is weird, I know,” Harry laughs, and the sound immediately drains the tension that had seized Rowan’s entire body. “But he likes it, and refuses to change it, so…yeah. Clint the rabbit. You can just step over him, by the way,” Harry says as he notices Rowan has yet to leave the entryway. “He’s pretty used to it, because he’s also stubborn about where he takes his fifteen daily naps, the lazy bugger…”

Stepping carefully over the rabbit as instructed, a smile plays on Rowan’s lips as she makes her way to the kitchen. “Damn. Sounds like Clint really needs to start pulling his weight around here.”

Harry snorts as he picks up the copper kettle located on his stovetop and fills it with water. “Try telling him that,” He says, flicking the gas range onto high and setting the kettle on the burner. “Even Atticus contributes more to the household, and I hardly have to feed him.”

Rowan leans over the stonetop counter, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Who’s Atticus? Another pet?”

“No, not a pet. More like a…friend…” Harry’s voice is barely above a murmur as he looks between the jar of tea in his hand, and the multiple jars lined up in his open cupboard. “Sorry, just…trying to choose what blend to give you.”

Tapping her index finger against the knuckle of her other hand, Rowan watches as a crease of concentration forms between Harry’s stern brow. “I can try any blend,” She offers, hoping to help with the indecision that seems to be plaguing him. “I’m really not picky.”

“No, but I am. I don’t want to give you the wrong one.”

“The wrong…?” Rowan tilts her head to the side, her own forehead creasing identical to Harry’s. “How can a tea blend be—?”

“This one,” Harry says triumphantly, swapping the jar in his hand with another stored at the very back of the cabinet. “I’ve been tweaking this recipe lately. I think you’ll like it.”

Harry opens another cabinet full of dishware, and grabs a midnight blue teapot with white detailing along the sides. After he sets the teapot on the counter, he pulls out two teacups with the same white detailing over midnight paint. 

It’s fascinating to watch the practiced ease with which Harry brews the tea. He’s added a few scoops of the blend into the diffuser that’s set inside the teapot by the time the kettle starts to whistle, and once he’s taken the kettle off the heat and poured the boiling water into the teapot to steep, he immediately reaches for a glass container that’s set on the counter. From her vantage point, Rowan can tell that it’s filled with honey.

Harry doesn’t ask her if she takes cream or sugar in her tea, and Rowan doesn’t interject to say she prefers one scoop of sugar and a dash of milk. Instead, she lets Harry dictate exactly how she’ll test out his own blend, observes carefully how he fills each teacup almost to the brim, but leaves enough room to add a few drops of honey with the glass wand that he keeps inside the matching jar. It’s clear that all of this is a science to him, from the amount of golden liquid added, all the way down to how he carefully stirs each cup before setting the drink down in front of her with a shy smile.

“Keeping with yesterday’s theme…” He says quietly, turning the cup so the handle faces Rowan for an easy grip. “Tea for protection.”

Rowan slowly lifts the delicate china to her mouth, blowing over the boiling liquid before inhaling the steam. “I smell…cinnamon, I think? And a little bit of lemon?”

Harry’s smile grows until his dimples flash at her. He’s still leaning over the countertop, mimicking Rowan’s curved posture. When she inhales again, she can smell the light scent of Harry’s cologne mixing in with the vapours of the tea.

“Good catch,” Harry praises her easily, tapping his ringed fingers against the countertop. “The base of the tea is a black tea blend, but there’s cinnamon and lemon balm in it, along with a few other things. A little cardamom, clove, nutmeg, ginger…a couple other spices. But they all do a really good job of keeping away things that could hurt you.”

Rowan doesn’t bother to inquire about how lemon balm can keep away something that could hurt her again; she doubts she’d get an answer that she really understands. Instead, she just blows over the surface of the tea one more time before taking a small sip. The flavours Harry listed rush over her tongue at a just below scalding temperature, swirling in her mouth before running down her throat and leaving a pleasant warmth behind.

Harry watches intently, his body still leaning across the countertop towards her. “What do you think?”

Rowan takes another small gulp of tea, more mindful of the heat this time. “It’s really good, Harry. The honey in it, too…adds just the right amount of sweetness.”

Rowan hadn’t realized the amount of tension that had strung itself between Harry’s shoulders until she watches it roll out of him. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it,” He says, straightening up before grasping his own teacup to take a sip. 

“Were you nervous I wouldn’t?”

Harry’s answering shrug is just on the edge of sheepish. “Maybe a little. I’m always a bit nervous when someone tries one of my products for the first time. I want them to like it, you know?”

“I get the same way when I design custom arrangements for clients,” Rowan confesses, swirling the tea in her cup. “There’s this moment, right before I show them their arrangements, when I swear I can feel my heart in my throat. I used to get so nervous that I felt like I was going to pass out.”

“Really?” Harry raises an inquisitive brow. “How did you stop it?”

“I started using this trick my mom taught me. Right before I show the arrangement to a client, like right before, when I’m getting it from the fridge, I picture what I hope their reaction will be. Excitement, surprise, happiness, things like that. More often than not, clients usually react the way I imagine they will. It helps keep me calm.”

That crease appears between Harry’s brow again, but smooths out a moment after Rowan takes notice of it. “Your mother is a smart lady.”

“She…yeah,” Rowan clears her throat and takes another sip of tea, the temperature more comfortable now. “And she keeps coming up in conversation, which is probably pretty annoying. Sorry.”

It takes all of Rowan’s self control to stop herself from pressing her thumb between Harry’s brows as that damn crease comes back. “Why are you sorry? I like hearing about your past. It makes it easier to understand you in the present.”

The sincerity in his tone brings a flush to Rowan’s cheeks. “Is that something you’re having difficulty with? Understanding me?”

Harry hums in consideration as he brings his teacup to his lips. One of his rings, the one set with a red stone— a garnet?— flashes under the light. “It’s becoming progressively easier the more I’m around you. But there’s still so much that seems…clouded.”

Rowan can’t suppress the shiver that runs down her spine at his words, but tries to disguise it under a humorous tone. “Well, we only just met. I’d be a bit concerned if you knew everything about me.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to know everything about you; I said I wanted to understand. You don’t have to know every facet of someone’s life to understand who they are,” Harry argues in a tone that borders on defensive. 

“And is…understanding people something you’re good at?” Rowan asks after a moment, fighting to keep her own tone light.

“Usually. It’s easier to understand some people than others.”

“Where do I place on that scale?”  Rowan pitches her voice lower than she means it to be, as if she’s whispering something in the dead of night. As if she’s afraid to be heard. “In, like, terms of difficulty…if one was the least difficult person to understand, and ten was the most difficult. Where do I sit?”

“The difficulty of understanding you…” Harry trails off, and for the first time, Rowan realizes that understanding is a placeholder word for Harry. It’s a word that’s almost synonymous with what he means, but doesn’t carry the same intention. It’s a verbal facade, disguising what he’s really trying to say behind a half truth.

But the thing about half truths? They’re always half lies, as well.

“I don’t know,” Harry says after a weighty moment, his tongue swiping over his lips. “I can’t quite place you yet.”

This time, Rowan detects the half lie right away. But she doesn’t push it. In all honesty, she’s a little afraid of the answer. There’s something in the way Harry’s jade eyes regard her, the way he leans into her space, both mentally and physically…she’s almost convinced that if Harry were to tell a whole truth instead of a half, the answer may break her.

Which is dramatic, and unfathomable, and even as Rowan repeats that to herself over and over internally, she knows that only half of what she’s repeating is true. A half lie, born of her own mind.

“Well,” Rowan drops her eyes to the contents of her teacup as she lifts the drink to her lips. “Let me know when you do.”

If Harry’s aware of the charged nature of her words, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them finish their tea with casual small talk, rather than more evaluations of the other’s character. Rowan reveals that she’s a born and raised New Yorker, while Harry tells her about growing up in London (Rowan mentally pats herself on the back for restraining her instinct to tell Harry that’s where her mother grew up). Harry talks little about his family, mentioning an older sister who’s married, a mother who passed away when he was a boy, and a father who still lives in his childhood home. When Rowan asks when Harry last visited the country of his birth, his eyes drift a shade darker, and his tattooed hand drifts upwards to his chest, rubbing the area with the same subconscious movement that drives Rowan to fidget with her necklace. The tone of his voice when he says that he hasn’t been back since his move brings her to drop the subject altogether. 

The two of them learn that they both share the same love of the first snowfall of the season, and a sense of melancholy when it rains. Both Harry and Rowan experience deja vu frequently, as well as knock on wood to prevent themselves from indirectly jinxing things they say. They both record their dreams in a journal, both sleep better with the sounds of the city as a lullaby. And by the time Rowan stands up to leave, they’ve both agreed to see each other again.

 As per Harry’s request, Rowan types her number into Harry’s cell phone as he carries their used teacups to the sink. When she hands him back his phone (her number is saved under the name Flower Shop Girl, which Harry had confessed he thought of her as before he knew her name, and the admittance brings so much warmth to her chest that Rowan forgets again to ask how he knew her name during their first meeting), Harry has a small satchel in his hands, which he gives to her in exchange.

“This is another new blend I’m working on,” Harry’s fingers just barely brush over hers as he slips the satchel into her hands. “It has chamomile and lavender in it, so I recommend drinking it before bed.”

Rowan brings the satchel to her nose, inhaling deeply at the pleasant scent. “I can smell the lavender, and…cinnamon?”

A small smile plays on the corners of Harry’s lips as he walks her to the door (he takes Rowan’s hand to help her step over Clint, who’s still asleep in the entryway). “You’re good at that.”

“Thanks. I guess spending pretty much all my time around flowers is useful for…scent identification,” Rowan flinches internally as she slips her boots back onto her feet. Who the hell says shit like scent identification? She switches the topic back to the satchel in her hand, hoping she doesn’t sound as awkward as she feels. “Is it meant to help with sleep? The tea, I mean.”

“It can, yeah. It’s, uh…well, it’s meant to help with clairvoyance,” Harry slides Rowan’s trench coat off the coat rack and holds it open for her to slip on.

Goosebumps prick up along Rowan’s skin as she slides on her jacket. “Clairvoyance? What do you mean?”

“Just…someone’s perception of things,” Harry shrugs nonchalantly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “It helps clear the mind, keep it open, that sort of thing.”

Rowan looks down at the unassuming satchel still clutched in her hand. “There’s not, like, magic mushrooms in here, is there? Because I had a really bad experience once in university, and I’d rather not—”

Harry’s laugh is loud and rolling, echoing enough through the entryway that Clint’s ears prick up. “No, no psychedelics. Not in this blend, anyways. But I’d love to hear about your experience with shrooms, if you’d like to share.”

“Maybe some other time,” Rowan rolls her eyes as she tucks the satchel into her pocket. “We can swap embarrassing intoxication stories another day.”

“We could, yeah. Maybe over dinner?”

There’s a note of hopefulness in Harry’s voice that fans that flame inside her chest. “Yeah. Maybe over dinner.”

Harry’s shoulder brushes against hers as he reaches past her to open the door. “It’s a date.”

…

In her dreams, Rowan is in Central Park.

At least, she thinks it’s Central Park. It’s pitch black, with the only light to illuminate her path being the shine of the full moon above her head. Rowan knows the trail through the park like the back of her hand, having walked them most of her life. However, she’s never traversed through the park in the dead of night, let alone by herself, and there’s a sense of uneasiness resting over her.

She wants to turn around. She wants to find her way back to the busy streets, and hail a taxi that’s surely still cruising through the city that never sleeps. She wants to make her way out of the freezing cold of the night, and retreat back into the comfort of her tiny apartment. She wants to be anywhere but here.

And yet, her feet keep taking measured steps forward, further and further into the only forest in the middle of a suburban sprawl. When she was a child, she’d been fascinated with photos of the park from above, by the stark contrast of nature and industrialization. She’d often dreamt of being a bird, and flying over the city so she could make the comparison for herself.

Dream, Rowan thinks, and her steps pause. This is a dream. She doesn’t need a taxi; all she needs to do is close her eyes, and think about being back home, and then—

A hand wraps around her waist from behind, and before Rowan can scream out in surprise, another clasps itself over her mouth. Fear courses through her body, freezing her limbs more than the bitter winter air ever could, and she shudders as a pair of lips brush over her ear.

“It’s okay,” A voice says in her ear, and the low British lilt is familiar to her now, as easy to place as her own. “It’s alright, love. S’just me.”

Rowan relaxes in Harry’s arms, but only by a fraction. She tries to mumble against his hand, but he keeps it pressed tight over her mouth, careful not to obstruct her nose as well.

“You need to listen to me, okay?” Harry’s breath is hot on her neck. While Rowan typically finds sensations to be dampened during dreams, the feeling of his breath rolling over her skin is so pleasurable that her knees almost buckle. “Nod if you’re listening.”

Rowan nods, the urgency in Harry’s words being just enough to keep her from succumbing to the newfound desperation supplied by his proximity.

“Good, that’s good. I don’t have long, so you need to listen carefully.”

Humming against his hand, Rowan knows that Harry senses her meaning: get on with it. 

“When you get to this night— this night, this specific night— you need to pause when you reach the fork in the path, alright?” Harry’s thumb strokes over her cheek as he murmurs the instructions in her ear. “Look up to the sky. Do you see the moon?”

Rowan’s chocolate eyes tilt up to the sky as she hums her understanding. It would be so much easier to communicate if he would uncover her mouth. Why won’t he uncover her mouth? She could talk to him if he did, tell him she understands, tell him what the feeling of him pressed so tightly against her back is doing to her, tell him to bring his lips just a bit closer to her skin…

“It’s a full moon. Memorize what the cold feels like against your skin,” Harry’s voice reaches hypnotic levels as he commands her. “The smell of pine in the air. You need to remember this moment, okay? Remember this night, remember this dream, and remember to pause when you get to the fork in the path.”

“Harry…” Rowan tries to whisper his name from underneath his hand, but the plea comes out muffled, barely audible over the whistling of wind through the trees. 

The hand over her mouth tightens reflexively, rings pressing so hard into her skin that Rowan thinks it’ll leave an imprint of the metal band once she’s released. The thought sends a ripple through her body.

“You need to be quiet, love. It’s almost time, and it’ll hear you,” Harry squeezes her body tighter against his, almost like an apology. “I have to go in a moment, before it knows I’m here.”

The sound that falls from Rowan’s lips is involuntary, and strays so close to being considered a whine that she’s glad Harry’s grasp on her is muffling her words.

“I’m sorry,” There’s a new note in Harry’s voice, a tone of distress just barely straining his normally soothing speech. “I wish I could tell you more. I wish I could explain, but I can’t. Not yet. Just— just remember what I said. Pause when you reach the fork in the path. Promise me you’ll do that.”

Rather than try to speak incoherent words behind Harry’s hand, Rowan raises her own and brings it to her mouth. With her index finger, she draws two lines over the back of his hand, hoping he gets the message. 

Cross my heart.

The sigh that Harry heaves blows the hair around her neck in separate directions, and Rowan’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as the sensation rolls over her.

“Good girl,” Harry breathes the words into her ear, and the breath that Rowan pulls into her chest is shakier than ever. “I have to go. And you need to wake up.”

Rowan shakes her head as her hand settles on top of Harry’s, keeping his palm pressed over her mouth. It feels so good, so much better than she ever could have imagined. It’s been so long since someone’s touch has made her feel like this, like she’s falling into their heat without a second thought. She doesn’t want to leave this moment. 

“You need to wake up, Rowan,” Harry’s voice grows more persistent in her ear, more urgent. The wind picks up around them, whipping her hair around her face as she leans into him more. “Wake up!”

…

It’s still dark outside when Rowan jolts upright in her bed.

For a moment, she thinks she’s still in her dream. She reaches behind her for Harry, but instead of finding the warmth of his body, she encounters the smooth cotton of her pillow. There’s a movement to her left, and she whips her head around, almost expecting to see Harry there, his emerald eyes intent on her. Instead of emerald, she finds ochre, and sees that Buttercup is watching her, clearly awoken by her own abrupt start.

Finally accepting that she’s in her bedroom, Rowan flops back into her pillows, ignoring Buttercup’s meow of indignation at being jostled. She pulls the cat into her arms, and the familiarity of his fur against her skin calms her racing heart. 

It was a dream, she tells herself. It was an incredibly vivid dream, one that brought to life desires that she didn’t even know she had, but a dream nonetheless. With a sigh, Rowan glances at the mug of tea on her bedside table, still containing liquid that’s turned icy cold while she’s slumbered. She hadn’t even finished half of the brew before it knocked her out. Rowan wonders if it’s possible to ask Harry if the tea contains anything that could cause strangely vivid and…Christ, she can’t deny it— arousing— dreams without giving away the fact that he was the star of them.

Buttercup purrs against her chest, and Rowan sighs again, gently moving him back to his preferred spot next to her before curling onto her side. She can worry about her weirdly touch-centered dreams in the morning, she decides, when she’s more fully awake to process them. It’s been a long day, and Rowan is tired. She needs some rest, proper rest. She’s too exhausted to think right now.

**

Y/N kissed Harry.

She kissed him – and he kissed her back, and they kept kissing until their lips had went numb and sore all the same… and then they went inside the house and cuddled each other to sleep. Bodies glued together despite their swimming clothes still feeling quite wet and sticky, and the usual pleasant scents of their skins being tarnished with the chemically one of chlorine. And it felt good. It felt so good… which is why Y/N was surprised when she woke up on aunt Rowena’s guest room all alone. Had she slept past the witching hour? That had never happened before… Well, except for the times she was sick or had one too many boozy drinks before bed.

Which wasn’t the case this time.

So, she’s guessing it can only have something to do with Harry, because that’s the only logical explanation. Maybe not him directly, but the calming capacities of his energy… and the way the smell of flowers, and freshly washed sheets dancing in the wind practically oozes from his pores. Because sure, they’d had a few cocktails last night, but not nearly enough to leave Y/N feeling tipsy… let alone tipsy enough to crash for the whole night without having to get up in the middle to be, well… a witch. Or to go for a wee. Which speaking of, Harry wasn’t in the en suite bathroom having one like Y/N had first assumed him to be…

She had rolled over in bed and clung to his pillow, giving him a few minutes to come back so that she could persuade him into coming to cuddle her for a bit longer… but the room was all too quiet.

She called for him and got no answer.

Her heart leapt at the thought that he might have slipped away in the middle of the night… frightened over what her aunt had told them hours before. Or worse, for regretting what had happened right afterwards… but his luggage was still sitting on the bedroom floor next to hers, so she figured it shouldn’t be that.

Before she got up and went looking for him however, Y/N checked her phone out of habit, only to find 4 missed calls and a bunch of unread texts from her best friend Margery, asking for a call back as soon as possible.

Y/N’s hand flew to her chest as she pressed the call button, already waiting for Margery to tell her that something had happened with Azura. The cat had a bad temper… and could act like a hell born little imp sometimes. Which was why Y/N usually never left her under anyone’s care for longer than a couple of hours… and this time it had been almost 10 consecutive days.

Luckily her worriment didn’t have time to escalate, as Margery answered the call after two rings with her usual cheery, gleeful tone. “Thank fuck you called! We were about to ring up Salem’s assembly and report you as a missing witch…”

Y/N winced slightly. “Where are you? It’s so static-y…”

“Oh sorry.” There was a shuffling noise from Margery’s side, and then her voice got clearer. “We’re at Pam’s house. Axl’s here too…” That got Y/N to smile, of course they were at Pam's house. In the middle of nowhere, where the phone network was horrible, and the internet was even worse. “Axl thought you had lost your mind for good and drove out of the country with some hot lesbian biker you had married in Vegas…”

“What?” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. “Did you guys really think you'd get rid of me that easily?”

“Of course not, - Shit. Hold on, I think I lost you.” Margery's voice sounded robotic and far away, as if she were calling from inside a spaceship. Y/N figured she was probably bending over backwards to try to get even one line of signal inside Pam’s cottage, so she chose not to complain about it. “Sorry, I’m back – I don’t know for how long though so tell me everything! How’s Vegas? Have you gone out already? I bet there are so many hot normies there…”

“Hot normies.” Y/N snorted… and huffed and then biting her lip she mumbled “I’ve sort of met someone magical, so… can’t really say I’ve been looking.”

“Excuse me- WHAT?”

Margery’s shout pierced Y/N's eardrums, making her pull the phone away from her ear before she mumbled lowly, “I can't tell you the details right now because he might listen but-”

“He? Who is he? Is he there with you?”

“Um, well… yeah, I mean - I'm by myself right now but…” Y/N got up and walked to the bathroom, just to double check that she really was alone – and as soon as she realized that she was, the babble gushing began. “I don’t know what came over me last night. I just… kissed him, and I thought – I really thought he liked it at the time- but now I woke up and he isn’t here. What if he regretted it so much that he couldn't even stomach to look at me when he woke up?!”

“You’re freaking out for no reason… he’s probably in the bathroom taking a dump right as we speak.” Margery suggested, but Y/N denied that possibility immediately. She had checked the bathroom after all… – “Well then… maybe he’s an undercover vampire? You know they always have to skip the breakfast in bed part…”

“No, of course he’s not a bloody vampire!” Y/N hissed, trying to keep it quiet. “He works at the hospital, inside a greenhouse - under the sun.”

“Wait… you’re screwing the hospital guy?! Oh my god guys, she’s screwing the hospital guy!”

Y/N’s body froze in alarm. “Did you just-” There were laughs and rustling coming from the other end of the line. “Margery! When I tell you these things you are not supposed to let everyone know!” The girl grumbled, but the only response she got were more weird stirring noises and a shout letting her know that she was now on speaker. “…and I am not screwing him- It’s not like that…”

“It’s not like that?!” Axl’s voice broke through the speakers of the phone, his tone pitched with amusement. “Correct me if I’m wrong but weren’t you just bitching to Margery about having woke up alone? ‘Cause that seems to me like you went to bed… not alone.”

“We just… slept. Like people do. Every night.”

“Oh…” They sounded a little disappointed. “But why was he there with you anyway? We thought you went to visit your aunt because of that weird omen stuff you told us about…”

“No, I did but- there’s some other stuff going on also…”

“What stuff?”

Y/N huffed deeply, “Do you guys remember what went on at the hospital? With that old witch who ran away?”

“Yeah, what about it? You said you didn't know anything…”

“Yeah well… I didn’t, at the time.” That was a lie, but it was a harmless one. “To keep it short, we found out the witch made a deal with a demon before she ran away… and we’ve decided to investigate a little. We’re meeting with a demonologist today, actually-”

“Wait, wait, wait… you’re meaning to tell us you have been messing with demon stuff without us? That’s whack, Y/N! You know how much we love to read about black magic and all that forbidden, creepy stuff…”

“Oh I know, which is exactly I didn’t tell you… No offense but you’d get too excited and end up doing something careless that would get us all killed…”

“When are you coming back? We should meet at Bones and Burgers just so you could run us through everything… and bring your doctor friend too! We’d like to meet him.”

“No, we won't- do that.” Y/N hissed, feeling flustered. “I told you before that he’s shy. I don’t think he would do well in that kind of environment. It’s too crowded.”

“Come onnnn… are you serious? So, that’s how it’s going to be? You get a little boytoy and now you’re going to start putting us aside…?”

“He’s not my-” Y/N wheezed on the defense, but the muffled laughter that followed had her realizing her friends were just trying to get her riled up. She threw her head back and squeezed the bridge of her nose, eager to move past the topic. “Look, unless you guys happen to know any magical ways to discover the old witch's hideout, there's nothing that you can do to help.” The sudden silence on their part alarmed her… because it was telling that they were starting to consider. “It was a joke, okay? You are absolutely forbidden to go poke into the matter!”

“But-” Their voices sounded simultaneously.

“No! I am not doing this with you. I said what I said. I don’t want you guys getting involved, and that’s the end of the story!” A light knock on the bedroom door interrupted Y/N’s speech, giving her the perfect excuse to hang up without further discussion. “I have to go now, someone’s at my door.”

“No, wait-” They still tried, but Y/N cut them off.

“Don’t forget to check Azura’s litter box, she’s very picky about it. I’ll talk to you soon, bye-bye.” She didn’t give them time to reply before pressing the button to end the call. Her shoulders slumped, trying to push back the unnerving thought that had just come to mind. Would she really get to talk to her friends soon?

Another soft knock on the door brought Y/N back to the reality of the bedroom she was in. “Come in.” She called, with expectant eyes stuck on the gaping door, from where Harry’s curl-framed head popped in just the slightest. “Oh, hi. You can come in, silly.” She added, smiling curiously at how reticent he seemed to be from walking inside, even though she’d given him permission.

He finally walked in, closing the door behind him with a delicate thud. “Sorry, I thought I’d heard you talking to someone and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s okay. I was just about to hang up anyway.” Y/N said as Harry sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. “Have you been up for a long time?”

“Just about half an hour, I think.”

“Where did you go?”

“I forgot to charge my phone overnight and it died. It’s why I got up, ´cause I went to check the time on the wall clock. I was planning to come back, but then I bumped into your aunt and uh… I don't know how she knew, but she knew I liked plants, so she offered to show me a few books,” Y/N’s eyes squinted out of strangeness… as far as she knew, her aunt didn't care much for plants, so why should she have- “and then showed me your old photo books as well.”

She groaned, taking her hands to her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to see those photos…”

“Why not?” Harry frowned slightly. “I liked them. Especially the ones from daycare where you were playing outside with a bunch of huge snails… those were cute.”

Y/N laughed a little at the memory. When she was younger, she went through a phase where she was obsessed with snails and slugs - much to her mother's dismay, because she always wanted to take them home to keep as pets. She made moss beds for them, fed them leaves, and even gave them baths. It was a gross little hobby… but she was happy like that.

“See… that’s embarrassing.” Y/N fretted. “No one ever wanted to play with me ‘cause I was always covered in snail goo.”

“It’s not.” Harry averred. “I swear if we were at daycare together, I would’ve loved to play with your snails. I wouldn’t ask obviously ‘cause I was even more awkward as a kid, but I would’ve sat by myself in the corner wishing you'd come ask if I wanted to play too.”

“You aren’t awkward, you’re just quiet… it’s not the same thing.” She told, scooting a little closer to him on the bed before she added, “Awkward would be when I started having a crush on you and asking if you wanted to play house and be my pretend husband – and father of our snail babies, of course.”

Harry smiled bashfully towards the floor, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean… I think I’d said yes ‘cause I would’ve had a crush too - unless you were a mean kid and not anything like you are nowadays.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Y/N asked with a giddy laugh as she fiddled with her fingers - twisting and untwisting them before her eyes jumped up to gawk at Harry, whose cheeks had just mottled a vibrant shade of pink, perhaps pinker than she had ever seen them before. “I’d like it if you were, but if not, then that’s okay too…” She added through a hesitant bite of her lip.

Harry snickered, still looking rather bashful. “I don’t know how to flirt,” His voice wavered, and then came out in a hurried murmur. “But if I did, then I would- with you, all the time.”

As it turns out, the address aunt Rowena gave Harry and Y/N led to a two-story house surrounded by a tall picket fence in a quiet residential enclave of Henderson.

The first thing Y/N took notice of was that the place didn’t look like an evil lair or an abandoned cottage like she thought it would… you know, with the whole skulls dangling from the front porch's ceiling, a spooky pumpkin patch in the back and a scarecrow a little too realistic for anyone to feel comfortable turning their back to it sort of deal. – As far as the second thing goes, it was that this Lord Darkmore persona didn't look nothing like she was expecting a demon expert to.

She had pictured a severe looking man, dressed in black clothes, with maybe some scars or eccentric tattoos on his face and neck that screamed 'Watch out: I’m into some real funky stuff' – Not a toned-looking wizard picking weeds from the lawn of his garden in a piping tracksuit and reeboks.

The brown skin of his face gleamed like bronze under the sun, long braids were tied in a bun atop of his head to keep them away from his face. He was rather attractive and didn’t look a day older than 47 – what put him right up Y/N’s aunt’s alley when it came to her favored choice of romantic flings. Y/N doesn't want to imagine her relative and this man together like that, but her intuition is hinting that they’re both into fuzzy handcuffs and blindfolds for some reason and she’s having a hard time pushing that undesired information back.

“Mr. Bellamy?” Y/N called, what immediately caught the wizard's attention. He straightened his back up and quickly rubbed his hands together to wipe the dirt off what she was assuming would be heavily calloused fingers. Then, at lazy pace, he began to approach the fence's gate, stopping a couple of feet from the visitors. “Hi, um…” The girl greeted a little gracelessly. “My name is Y/N and this is my friend Harry - we’re here because-“

“I don’t do autographs or take pictures.” He interrupted before she could finish. “The two of you can piss right off my property.”

“No, that’s not why-“ Y/N shook her head quickly, following him around from outside the picket fence. “My aunt, Rowena,” She raised her voice an octave, hoping the name would manage to get his attention back. “She recommended your services because – well, it’s a complicated story but we were sort of caught upon an evil-purposed summoning situation and we were hoping tha-”

“Reena has a niece?” The wizard questioned, seemingly disregarding all words spoken in favor of trying to find any physical similarities between Y/N and her aunt. Spoiler alert, he probably wouldn’t be finding many. “I didn’t know she had family around… I could swear she told me she was orphaned.”

Harry frowned at the news, guessing he was about to witness a similar reaction from his friend. “Yeah, I can sort of picture her doing that…” He heard her say instead. Rowena must've had her reasons. There’s no better way out of introducing a partner to the family, than pretending not to have one, right?

“So, um… Mr. Bellamy…” Y/N insisted, taking advantage of the additional moment of attention he had spared them. “I know your schedule is probably very busy, but we are open to pay extra for out of hours consultation if need to. We've been searching everywhere for someone like you, who is highly knowledgeable in demonology and well, since my aunt said you were the best, we thought-”

“You are not going to pay for my services.” Mr. Bellamy said decidedly, and Y/N almost breathed out in relief. They might have saved some money by staying at her aunt’s house, but she knew that an emergency appointment with the uppermost demon expert should cost, at least, about a week's worth of motel stays. “Because I’m not offering services.” The man deadpanned, making Harry and Y/N’s smiles close in an instant. “I've retired from that stuff. I don't have the patience to deal with any more demons or magical circles, so sorry… but you’ll have to go find another door to knock on.” He finished, before turning his back on them and beginning to stumble towards the door of the house.

“What happened to your leg?” Harry inquired out loud, causing Y/N’s eyes to widen. He usually never let out as much as a peep around strangers, so she was quite shocked he had chosen to question Mr. Bellamy on his limp so carefreely.

The man paused midway, not bothering to look back. “Ailments from the past.” He replied drearily. “But that’s none of your business.”

“Actually,” The usual raspy tone of Harry’s voice went slightly sharper from desperation. “I can prep you a remedy that will make it go away if you help us out.” He proposed, knowing this was the last chance the two had before they got shut out for good.

The man guffawed humorlessly, turning around with difficulty. Y/N hadn’t realized just how bad the state of the man’s leg was until Harry commented on it. He limped quite a lot. Judging by his movements, it looked like his leg had been swapped by a tree trunk - Constantly stuck to the ground and refusing to move along with the rest of his frame. “I’ve tried dozens of different meds and analgesics… they never changed a thing. Why would yours be any different?”

“Because you’ve been trying to cure a Maleficium injury with non-magic drugs.” Harry’s sure answer surprised Mr. Bellamy, but oddly, the verdict did not seem all that unforeseen to him. “I’m guessing you know that already…” Harry supposed, “You just haven’t done anything about it because you’ve been marked by whoever evil entity did that to you, and now you’re scared of the repercussions of our people finding out you work with forbidden magic.”

The man’s pink tongue darted out to lick his lips that had gone a little dry from the morning sun, but there was a gleam of interest in his eyes. “Who are you?” He asked Harry. “Some type of witch doctor?”

“I prefer the term botanist, but yes.” Harry said brightly, taking a step closer to the fence and placing his hands in between two spiky boards. “We wouldn't be taking up too much of your time, just enough to ask you a few questions and in return, I'll make you an effective medicine to treat your leg. I will need to go get some ingredients to make it first, but tomorrow it should be ready… all we ask for is a couple of minutes of your morning.”

“And how do I know you're not just saying that to get a free consultation?”

“You have my word, Mr. Bellamy.” Harry said seriously, like he truly believed that should be enough to appease his worries. “Besides, I’m always interested in helping people feel better if I can.”

The man's distrust seemed to melt at the genuineness of Harry's green gaze, and after a moment, with a deep sigh, he gave in. “Lock the gate on your way inside. I’m not looking for any more unexpected visitors.”

Y/N and Harry both couldn't contain a little jolt of accomplishment that rushed through their bodies as they hurried to unlock the gate and follow the man inside his house.

It wasn’t like Y/N was ever not wanting to kiss Harry, but right then the urge to lurch herself into his arms and push their lips together to show him just how much she appreciated what he did was almost uncontrollable. He was so hot – in his own shy, soft, ingenuous ways, and what made it even more endearing was that she had a feeling he had absolutely zero notion of that fact, let alone of how much Y/N had been itching to tell him how remarkably perfect in every sense of the word she thought he was.

She had tried to pay him little compliments at times, but his reactions were always somewhere between embarrassment and apprehension, what admittedly made her heart ache a little - that he doubted himself so much that he refused to accept a compliment with a simple 'thank you'.

Now wasn’t the time to be focusing of that though…

Because they were about to enter the home of a stranger who knew a shit ton about demons and probably a lot of hazardous spells as well.

The home wasn’t as ostentatious and time-honored as aunt Rowena’s mansion, but it was still ritzy enough to make someone feel like they should cross their legs and mind their posture as they sat on one of the green leather sofas of the living room.

“Alright then… tell me what your problem is.” The demonologist challenged as he planted himself on one of the other sofas and reached for the Marlboros perched on the side table. He tried to stifle a hiss of pain as he did so, but the unavoidable wincing of his face let it show that there was likely a sharp pungency running through his leg as he bent.

A short, expected silence followed his question, in which Y/N hem and hawed for a moment whilst staring at Harry, who only granted her a soft nod as silent encouragement. “Um… okay, well-” She spoke first, guessing that Harry would prefer for her to go over the knotty storytelling part. “Basically, what happened was that we found that a dark witch has summoned a demon back at the magic community where we live. We don’t know exactly what kind of deal she made with it – but what we do know is that innocent creatures and people have been hurt.” Y/N took a deep breath and glanced at Harry again. “We need to send this demon back to where it came from, but the catch is that- um… the casting circle has been… wiped out?”

“So?” The expert shrugged, blowing out the cigarette smoke lodged in his mouth.

“So…” Her tongue prolonged the vowel. “…what do we do?”

The man looked confused by the question, until the recognition that he was talking to absolute newbies sank. “You two know jack-shit about demons, don’t you?” He pumped the question, although he had already figured the answer before the two were nodding their heads. “You make a new circle – and then, trick the demon into coming to you with the promise of a better bargain than the one offered by his previous summoner. Demons are not loyal to the ones who work with them. They are selfish and hoggish – a demon won’t hesitate to break a contract if it believes it can chalk up more than they were promised beforehand.”

“Oh.” Y/N’s brows jumped with the realization. “I guess we hadn’t really considered that faking a deal with the devil could be a possibility…”

“If we’re going to be doing that, what kind of deal are we meant to propose?” Harry inquired timidly. “Cause that got me thinking… if the promise should be that much more enticing, won't the demon realize it's a frame-up straight away?” He speculated further.

“Yes, certainly.” Mr. Bellamy confirmed. “Usually, a tribute of magic blood is enough to lure them in. There’s two of you. That means two disparate blood tributes – what should already make it all more enticing…” Harry eyed Y/N for a moment. His see-through expression letting her in on the fact that he thought she was about to balk out on him at the news - that maybe the whole blood tribute part was too much for her to handle.

And granted, maybe having to drain her own blood and offer it to a demon on a silver platter was a bit more than Y/N had been expecting, but still not nearly enough to scare her away. Now that she is thinking about it, there’s nothing really that could have come out of Mr. Bellamy’s mouth that would scare her away from the game plan… Because as long as she’s got Harry by her side, she thinks she can do anything – walk on blazing coals, kayak over a waterfall, swim with great white sharks – you name it, and she’d do in a heartbeat because they’re…

Soulmates?

And well, maybe this is really unideal time to realize that perhaps she has found her soulmate, but doesn’t it also always happen somewhat like that in movies?

Y/N reached between their bodies and locked her fingers together with Harry’s, giving a sure squeeze as a subtle indication that she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. He squeezed back. “Let's say we succeed in attracting this demon for bargain… what’s next?”

“You'll have to snare him and perform the expulsion ritual… but first things first –which demon is it that you are trying to send back to the Abyss?” Y/N and Harry traded a panicky look between them at the question, the man sighed with disgruntlement. “You don’t know? What kind of magic people are you?”

The girl swallowed before she replied. “Good magic people?”

“Okay, well – good magic people,” Mr. Bellamy repeated derisively. “You have to know which demon has ascended to send him back. Without a name there is nothing that can be done.”

“But- we weren’t there when it was summoned… how are we going to discover its name?”

His gaze swiveled between the two. “Do you know who the spell caster was?”

“Yes-” Harry answered with more certainty than he truly had. “Or well, at least we think we do.”

“Well then – that’s a good place to start. Track them – cage them – put them through the wringer – torture the name out of them if need to. That’s what I would do.” He said nonchalantly, smiling smugly once he noticed the utter horror that had washed over their features. “But of course, the good magic people aren’t keen on using any torture spells…” His mouth curled mockingly, but when Y/N was about to snap at him for being rude over their lack of knowledge when it wasn’t their fault that black magic teaching has been banned in schools since 1977, he wiped the jeer off his face and went serious.

“Alright. Here’s what you’re going to do… You’ll work on finding that demon’s name… and as soon as you do, you call me. – I have a list with the names of the demons I’ve met or heard of in the past that might be helpful. Now, I can’t guarantee the one you are looking for is in that list, but it may be, since there aren’t that many demons willing to come to our world – the ones who do are usually the ones who once lived among us, as they have a human form to come back to and don't have to borrow someone else's body.”

“You want us to call you? Why? I thought you had retired…” Y/N questioned intently, finding it somewhat strange that Mr. Bellamy was making himself available to carry on helping them through the expelling ritual. She hadn’t been counting on that – hell, after the way he greeted them at the door, she had been expecting nothing but for him to spit out some basic tips and tricks and send them on their way with a mind full of unanswered questions and maybe a threat or two that something bad was going to happen if they failed to bring him his remedy the next day.

“I did retire.” The man huffed heavily, rubbing lazily at his scruff. “But quite frankly, with your lack of knowledge and artlessness, it would be a danger to society for me to allow you to go and perform a ritual without assistance from someone who knows what they’re doing. Else ways, you’ll end up getting killed and devoured before you manage to utter out a single spell word.” His lips twitched into a tight smile at their glowers. That hurt. It really did - but despite the heavy bruising done on their egos, neither Harry or Y/N had the mind or the gut to contest Mr. Bellamy on his, most likely accurate, belief. “If you’re going to stick to that favor you promised earlier, I'm willing to help with your problem until that’s sorted… if and only if that remedy proofs to be as effective as you claim it to be.”

The first thing Harry and Y/N did after leaving Mr. Bellamy’s house was go for a walk around downtown Las Vegas.

The goal was to go and visit some witchcraft shops and plant nurseries throughout the afternoon, so that hopefully Harry could get the missing items he needed to make Mr. Bellamy's medicine.

It wasn't so hard to find wizardry shops in Las Vegas. It was a big city for magic practice, after all… Even despite the large number of posers pretending to be real occultists – like the astrologers and psychics offering miracle cures for all kinds of love and money problems. Those could be spotted at practically every city corner, the real deal witchcraft places, on the contrary, were usually the most clandestine and the ones who didn’t have social media pages washed in witchy vibes, aesthetic-like pictures, and made-up pentagram designs.

Before hitting the shops however, Y/N had managed to convince Harry to go visit the Las Vegas Neon Museum… well, convince might not be the right word, since all she had to do really was let out an excited gasp at the sight and stare at him with her lower lip puffed out a little bit.

It was a fun time of roaming around and taking lots of pictures - Harry even insisted that she would let him take pictures of her next to her favorite signs, and she managed to take some of him as well, although most of them were when he was distracted because he kept hiding his face and claiming he didn't like to get his pictures taken, although he still managed to look adorable in each one.

Speaking of adorable, Y/N had also been secretly hoping she would stumble upon some stones to make matching gem necklaces for her and Harry. She had been aiming for Amethyst, a soothing gem that mollifies negative energy and alleviates feelings of anxiety, something that she had realized that Harry had plenty of, paired with Aventurine, because in addition to being a protective and luck-bringing stone, it also happened to be almost the exact shade of Harry’s eyes – green, with a silvery blue sheen. Just thinking about how pretty it would look on him was enough to make her feel giddy throughout the whole day, so it was no surprise that when she happened to find some at the back of a witchcraft emporium, it became a real struggle not to let her excitement show.

They were a bit expensive compared to the ones Margery usually ordered from her regular supplier, but Y/N wasn't worried about the money… She wanted to have the necklaces done before her and Harry had any sort of contact with this demon, hoping that the extra protection from the stones would help them stay connected and grounded throughout the ritual. She wasn't going to tell him about these plans though, wanting to surprise him with a little gift just like he did with the magic tree he had given her at the hospital.

“Hey, do you think your aunt has a pestle and mortar at home? I’m gonna need some to crush these indigo milk caps later.” Harry wondered out loud behind her, shaking the transparent bag of plump mushrooms in his hand. His voice startled her off her bones a little. She hadn’t heard him coming, figuring he should still be distracted gathering things in the aisle where she had discreetly abandoned him at so that she could come pick her stones.

“Uh… yeah! I think she should…” Y/N stammered, covertly hiding her hands behind her back, since they were thronged with not only the gemstones, but also some complementary beads and wire she was planning to braid into a support net. “I mean, I think all magic people do, don’t they? Even I have one at home, despite never using it…”

“Hm, yeah… you’re probably right.” Harry agreed, glancing back at her with a curious smile as he picked and tossed a jar of something into the shopping basket hanging from his arm. “Why are you perching against the shelves like you’re trying to hide something from me?” He asked with a comical scrunch of his brows.

“It’s ‘cause I am.” She admitted bluntly instead of welshing the topic, leaning farther back so that Harry couldn't get a peek even though she doubted he would try. “It’s just a gift I’m getting for a friend.”

“Oh? Okay.” His voice sounded somber, maybe even a little doleful. “Why can’t I see?” From the way his eyes widened, she realized that the question came to him without thinking and that he immediately regretted having let it slip away. “I’m sorry. You don't have to answer that, I know I have nothing to do with it…”

“No, it’s okay.” Y/N assured with a small laugh, finding it amusing how he had so quickly assumed her secrecy did not concern him. He couldn’t be any more wrong, obviously, but she was glad he wasn't the least bit suspicious. “It’s something I have yet to make… I don't want you to see until the final product.” She told, knowing it would make her life easier if she could tell Harry what she was going to be doing instead of having to come up with silly excuses for sneaking away while he was preparing Mr. Bellamy’s potion. If he agreed not to peek, perhaps she could even make the necklaces while keeping him company in the kitchen. “I promise I’ll show you once it’s finished.” She said earnestly. It was meant for him anyway - he just couldn’t know that part yet.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” He said quietly, not averting his stare away from the items displayed in front of him. What ultimately was making Y/N a little worried that he might have taken her secrecy as lack of trust or something silly like that, since there was nothing particularly interesting or attention grabbing in those shelves - just a stack of sand timers and keepsake boxes – and yet, his eyes remained settled on them like glue.

“I want to.” Y/N assured as she began to walk the aisle backwards to the front of the shop, where the cashier was. “I'm just going to pay this, but I'll come back in a second to help you get the rest of your stuff.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded. “I’m almost done too, but I’ll wait here until you get back.”

He stuck to his promise, continuing to wander the aisles at the back of the emporium, picking this and that until the small list of ingredients in his hand had been fully scrawled in check marks. Y/N helped him pack and carry the bags outside, even though he insisted that she didn’t have to.

As they walked the sidewalk away from the storefront, the pair was still quarrelling back and forth over who was to carry whose shopping bags… until suddenly Harry gawked up at the sky, noticing a falling object cutting swiftly through the air – seemingly, aiming right at their heads. “Wow- watch out!” He yelped, right as he reached for Y/N's arm and swung her aside. His free hand raised instinctively to his face to shield it from what he was sure would be a painful strike, but much to his surprise the object flew right into his open palm - as if it were a piece of candy purposely sent into his hands for him to grasp. Y/N winced at first, guessing it had been one of those creepy black beetles that Nevada seemed to be infested with as of lately, but surprisingly, when Harry opened his hand, what she saw wasn’t an icky little bug. It was… a glass pebble? Of the grave covering kind.

The two of them scowled up at the sky, just in time to catch a glimpse of the feathered offender - cawing and hovering at the distance. “…That’s funny.” Y/N stated.

“Funny?” Harry scoffed, going all grumpy in the face. “You would have gotten hurt bad if that thing hit you, Y/N.”

“No, I know but… the pebble. It’s from a gravestone, I think.” The boy frowned at her statement, still looking rather upset over the situation. “I haven’t seen one of those since my grandpa passed away. That’s why I thought it was funny… in like, a bizarre way.”

“Hm.” Harry drawled, moving the stone around. “So what does it mean, then?”

“Huh… that there’s probably a graveyard close by…?”

“No, I know but- what does it really mean? Like, why would it drop it here?” Harry emphasized, rolling the glossy, purple-colored pebble around his palm. “Wasn’t aunt Rowena saying to pay attention to behaviors that are out there? Well then, does this qualify as out there? I mean… how often do crows drop graveyard pebbles over your head?”

Y/N’s lips puffed out in thought. “Never, I guess? But crows like shiny things, and they sit around graveyards all the time, so… my guess is that it picked the pebble because it liked it and then ended up deciding it didn’t want to keep carrying it around all day…” The witch shrugged nonchalantly, continuing to walk alongside Harry on the sidewalk with her shopping bag swinging at her side. “Besides what special could there be about a graveyard anyway? Only human bodies are buried there… not demons. Fine, Mr. Bellamy did say that the demons who come around Earth are the ones who have been human before because-“ She paused, taking in her own words. “…they still have their old bodies to come back to.”

Her body reeled abruptly, and so did her grip on the bags that soon dropped to her feet. “Harry, that’s it!” She bounced, grabbing his face and planting a loud smooch on his lips, leaving him staring back at her with stunned eyes and rosy cheeks. “I could smother you in kisses right now, you whiz! Only we have a demon headstone to go find, so that’s probably going to have to wait a little while…”

Harry’s nod came out befuddled as he witnessed Y/N pick the bags off the floor, grab his hand and usher him into a quieter downtown alley, only letting go so she could fish her phone out the pocket of her jeans. “Alright then, let’s see what Google Maps has to say about graveyards in the area.”

The nearest cemetery was an 11 minute drive away.

There was a gravedigger working nearby, and by the single look he had spared, Harry and Y/N were figuring he had taken them as a duo of tombstone tourists. Perhaps it was just due to their non conservative outfit choices or the wicked energy their bodies gave off, but his gaze felt a teensy bit judging - slightly curious too once he witnessed their eyes bouncing between Mr. Bellamy’s demon name list and the tomb rows ahead of them, possibly looking like two very confused people that had arrived at the wrong destination… but after a few seconds of glancing, the careerist seemed rather unphased by their presence.

“Okay, so-” Y/N soughed out loud as she walked aimlessly around the place. “I was thinking we should compare the names to the epitaphs on the gravestones – also, maybe keep an eye open for the ones with decorations of some kind, because that could have been a hint as well.”

“How many options are we looking at exactly?” Harry asked, peeking over her shoulder to stare at the list. His eyes swelled in size at the long record he was presented with. Y/N hadn’t bothered counting but there had to be more than 150 names in there, without a doubt. “Does this mean we are going to have to run through all these names by each grave looking for a match?” Harry asked diffidently, eyes locked straight ahead at scope of never-ending headstones.

“I know, it’s a lot…” Y/N exhaled harshly, on board with his frustration. The graveyard was huge. This could take ages upon ages, and to make things even worse there were only a few more hours of sunlight until nightfall - and nobody wants to be in a cemetery after dark. Not even wizards. “But I think that in a little while we will have most of the names memorized, and it will become easier.”

“Can I make a silly suggestion?” Harry queried, twisting his body so that he was facing Y/N as he walked. “What happens if you look… inside, and ask your instinct where it is?”

The witch chuckled at the suggestion, shaking her head. “You place way too much trust in my abilities, did you know that? I’ve told you before, I’m not a good Seer. I was never even that much of a talented witch, let alone-”

“Stop that!” Harry scolded, what brought both of them to a halt. “Do you even realize that without you and your abilities I would have never, ever made it halfway to where we are now? You are so clever! And you have the craziest… most fascinating powers! And on top of that you are also so, so incredibly brave - you really are. It takes my breath away. You take my breath away.” He mumbled the last part, as if his heart had been itching to say those words for a while, but his head was still reticent in putting them out in the open. “So, for once just… try to put as much trust in yourself as I do, please.”

There were emotional tears forming in Y/N's eyes at what Harry had said. She couldn’t classify the exact reason why, but she knew the unshakable confidence he was placing in her was to blame. “I’m just scared I’ll get it wrong. I don’t want to disappoint you… or myself.” She admitted, hurriedly wiping at her eyes with her wrist. “I don’t want to screw things up by relying on something so… fractious.”

Harry reached for Y/N's wrist, so that she was facing him. “That could never happen. You could never disappoint me.” He assured, smiling just as softly as his fingers felt tracing the skin of her arm. “I promise that even if you weren't a Seer, I'd still suggest following our intuition first… you know, anything to avoid leg working this whole yard…” He joshed, causing a smile to start pulling at her mouth, regardless of the tears that the sunlight had not yet dried, still shimmering up her features. “But seriously though, if it doesn’t work all we have to do is go back to the original plan, but for now… you’re spearheading.”

“Alright fine.” The witch huffed, handing Harry the list so that she could relax her body to the fullest and focus on her insights thoroughly. She could detect traces of otherworldly energy in the surroundings… uncovering their source, however, was proving to be befuddling like a riddle. Furthermore, she tried pinching her eyes in concentration, guessing that maybe her attraction to Harry was what was messing with her focus.

His face was very distracting, especially so when his pretty green blinders were fixed on her like they were then… but even with her eyes shut tight, no matter which way she turned, the orientations ended up only leaving her more frustrated – if she took a tentative step to the left, her intention said right, but then, right as she went right, it said left. “It’s not working!” Y/N puffed her cheeks, grumbling her way around another unintentional pirouette. “I can feel the stupid energy, but it's not dragging me anywhere!”

She had noticed Harry had gone strangely silent, but thought nothing of it while she blindly did a few more experimental shifts and turns in place. Huffing and puffing beneath her breath each time she tried something new (like diagonals and so) and ended up not getting any decisive results again.

“Y/N, I’m not trying to spook you or anything, but…” Harry started hesitantly, the rasp of his voice startled her some, but there was a weirdly positive intonation to it that made her open her eyes in question. “I think you might have led us to the right place without realizing while you were distracted talking to me…” He beamed, verifying the writing on the paper, despite already having done it multiple times while Y/N had been spinning and turning nowhere and everywhere like a blind dog in a meat market. “I'm not misreading this, am I? This name,” He pressed his digit over it on the print. “Is what’s engraved right there, isn't it?”

“Alastair Krauss…” A chilling, unsettling feeling lodged in Y/N's stomach at the profession of that name. She didn’t know if it was legitimate or just from suggestion effect, but there was no denying that everything was starting to feel much more real now… It might sound odd but, until that point in time, it had been easy for her to ignore the scary, threatening parts that would inevitably come from this demon hunt – hell, there were moments during the weekend where she had almost forgotten that her purpose in Vegas wasn’t just to have a fun, short little getaway. Now that she could finally annex a name to the monster though, all fears had briskly awakened from the subdued slumber they had been in for the past days.

The stone inscription below the demon’s name still made her snort though, finding it to be awfully amusing that someone had picked “Have faith we'll meet again” as a saying to honor someone who ended up turning into an evil spirit who still came back to Earth from time to time to ruin people’s lives. That made her wonder if it ever happened that demons ran into people who had once shared the Earth-life experience with them prior to their passing… even if it did happen though, it was unlikely it should be happening to this demon, considering that according to his headstone, he had died in 1927 at the precocious age of 38.

Therefore, all the people he could have met during his human life should already be dead or old enough not to recognize any of his features anymore. Y/N found herself eager to know what Alastair had been like during his previous life and wondering what beastly events could have led him into becoming the creature he now was… One thing was certain, he must not have been the epitome of a treasure man if his soul ascension rights had been ripped away from him - limiting him into dwelling between worlds as a lost soul until the devil had chosen to welcome him as one of their own.

Y/N and Harry were currently in aunt Rowena’s kitchen.

That wasn’t shy in pink nor in size like every other house space of the mansion. The focal piece of the room was a T-shaped island - a long counter that ended with a perpendicular breakfast area with padded high stools. All of the state-of-the-art appliances in it were tucked to the walls or perched over the room-surrounding counters. They weren’t the latest models in the market, but rather expensive brands known for their excellence and guarantee to last practically a lifetime. Where the counter ended, was the back door that led to the garden and the pool, and right in front of the sink, was a half round window that overlooked the busy Las Vegas Strip.

“Do you think we should’ve called Mr. Bellamy right when we found out who the demon was?” Y/N asked Harry from her seat on the breakfast counter, that she had outlined as off limits for him to cross until she was done with her supersecret matters, like Harry had begrudgingly been addressing them from the moment she refused to tell him what it was. She had also made him swear not to peek behind the long floral centerpiece perched on the kitchen island to check what she was doing, and so far, he had kept true to his promise.

“I don't think he was going to do anything about it until we gave him the potion anyway…” Harry replied from where he stood over the stove, currently grating some ginger into the bubbling concoction he was cooking in a cauldron over the electric stove. “I really hope this works, otherwise I think the demon will be the least of our problems… Mr. Bellamy is a bit scary too, don't you think?”

“Well, yeah but as scary as the demon… or Lucinda. We haven't decided what to do with her yet. Evil witches like her shouldn't be running around loose.”

Y/N's statement was followed by a ringing. Harry's phone that was buzzing over the countertop. He grabbed it, and immediately his eyebrows furled. “Can you keep an eye on the cauldron for a bit? I have to take this call.”

“Yeah, of course.” She confirmed, and so Harry walked past the back door into the garden. Leaving her alone with her eyes stuck on the cauldron, wishing with her entire heart that whatever was brewing in it didn't start acting up now because if it did, hell… she wouldn't know what to do besides screaming for help.

But luckily everything remained calm, so Y/N went back to her crafts again. She was almost done anyway…

And so it was, after a couple more minutes the two pendants laid finished over the marble tabletop. Y/N smiled proudly at them. The nets weren't perfect like the ones Margery made, but they were almost there. Inside each net were two small complementing gemstones: Amethyst – dotted in hues of purple and lavender, and Aventurine – shimmering in shades of aquatic green.

She jumped to hide them in one of her pockets, however, when Harry's voice startled her suddenly. “The hospital called.” He’d said solemnly. Y/N couldn't make neither head nor tail of his expression. His features looked stony, almost impassive… like he was still trying to process something that had been said to him.

“Oh.” She sputtered, a little surprised. “Do they- do they want you to come back to work earlier or something?”

“No- I mean… yes, partly but…” He hesitated for what felt like a prolonged moment. His arms unconsciously wrapped around his frame, seeking for the comfort the latest news had stripped him of. “Something happened.”

The girl’s eyes bulged for answers. “What. What happened?”

Harry took a big breath, leaning against the stove counter just so he was facing her. “They uh… they admitted a witch there last night whose body showed signs of dark magic bewitching… like the ones we found on Mrs. Carrington last week.” Harry briefed, with a crestfallen gleam in his eyes. “Apparently, she was known to have quite a hostile relationship with Lucinda too… a certain Althea Morelli…”

Y/N’s fists closed pressingly over the tabletop. “Hostile in what sense, exactly?”

“I don’t know… but if Lucinda bargained for a demon to attack her, I suspect it wasn’t in the harmless type of way.” He sighed sorely. “They said there have been others… all within a close ratio, which I thought was odd until I remembered that back at the hospital, you’d read from a book that entities usually don’t operate within very large distances.”

Harry rushed to his bag to get a pen and the pamphlet on Nevada’s main attractions that had been given to him at the Neon Museum reception, that happened to include a foldable map of the area. “As far as people from the hospital know, there has been 3 attacks so far… Althea Morelli,” He leant over the island counter and circled the area of Boulder City on the map, where their magic community was located. “One in Paradise, and one other here in Las Vegas.” He scribbled those areas in the map as well. “I’m thinking Althea must have been the first… that Lucinda might have summoned the demon for the purpose of… doing away with her, so to say. And the others, well… they could have been her enemies too, or innocent people who are being tailed as human sacrifices.”

Already fearing the answer, Y/N’s eyes lifted from the map to face him. “…Did they succeed? In doing away with Althea.” Harry’s jaw clenched as he nodded solemnly. “Dear god…” The tragic news prompted the witch to get up from the kitchen chair, hoping the action would help calm the sudden queasiness that had taken over her. “This is insane…” She buried her face in her hands, walking around in circles. “How many? How many more innocent lives could that heinous, hideous witch be willing to take?”

The silence settled for a few beats, the only sound heard inside the room being the steady bubbling coming from Harry’s cauldron. “I keep thinking about it, you know?” He spoke. “And just… wondering what would’ve happened if I had stayed a little longer at the greenhouse that night. And every time I do, I feel horrible… like I could’ve- should’ve stopped Lucinda somehow.“

“Harry…” Y/N’s soft voice attempted to disrupt his speaking, as she rushed to meet him on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“No, Y/N.” He shook his head, adamantly. “I know what you're going to say. None of this is my fault and there was nothing I could have done to stop it. And I know that, rationally speaking, you’re right. I know, but that is still not how it feels. It’s not how I feel.”

And then it happened… it was sudden and without warning. It started with a dry sob, followed by another. Harry’s heart rate quickened, the wind pipe in his throat tightened, causing his breaths to become quicker, shorter, and labored. His chest started to heave. His hands wrapped tightly around the counter’s edge. The simple act of breathing seemed hard for him… painfully hard.

“This is m-my fault. People are d-dead and it’s my fault.” He spat amidst painful sobs and unregulated inhales. Y/N noticed that his words were almost an exact repetition of those he uttered in between cries on the day of the attack on the hospital. Had he been feeling this way back then too?

She felt terrified. She desperately wanted to do something - anything to make him feel better, but she didn’t know what to do. “Harry,” She called for him, trying her hardest to keep her voice soothing and not panic herself. “Talk to me… tell what you need.” The girl asked, but he couldn't seem to hear over whatever turmoil was happening inside his head. Unthinkingly, she reached for his hand, that was still curled in a tight grip around the marble surface. “Squeeze my hand. Let’s try breathing together, okay?”

He held her fingers in his, squeezing them tightly. “I can’t. I can’t breathe.”

“I know. I know… but let’s try slowly, okay? In-“ Y/N forced a deep inhale, filling her lungs with as much air as they could take. “…And out.” She exhaled slow, repeating the process again and again until Harry’s ragged breathing gave way and began to keep up with hers. “That's it, breathe. It's all right. You’re not alone, I’m here. You’re with me. You’re okay.”

Harry’s eyes turned foggy from dampness once their gazes met. Y/N desperately wanted to say something else - wanted to tell him how wrong he was for blaming himself for something that was so beyond horrid and vile. But the more she stared at him, the more words seemed little. There was nothing to be said. She stepped closer and hugged him tight… and kept on hugging him - until the heartbeats coming from his chest slowed to a steady rhythm and the back muscles that at first had felt stark beneath her fingertips began to soften and turn limber on behalf of her hand’s soothing strokes.

“I- um. Thank you.” Harry gasped after a long beat. “I don't know how you do it, but your hugs always manage to calm me down…”

She simply smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder before mumbling against his shirt, “Speaking of calming, there’s something I want to give you.” She pulled away from the hug, snickering nervously once she saw that inquiringness had washed over Harry's face. “I can’t promise it’ll feel like anything like my hugs but…” With hesitant fingers Y/N reached inside her pocket, pulling out one of the pendants, though the other came attached in a tangle.

She quickly undid the knots and placed her favorite one around his neck. “They… um… match.” She explained, feeling a little embarrassed once Harry picked at the gemstones falling over his chest to inspect them. “I thought it might help us deal with the demon and also um… if we're both wearing them at the same time I'll get to feel your energy and vice versa, so we'll always know if the other is okay,” Her voice quieted when Harry stared at her wordlessly. “I hope this isn’t too forward or weird. I just thought that maybe…”

“Did you make these…” Harry asked practically inaudibly, still looking rather astonished by the jewelry held in his palm. “…For us? for me?”

“I-uh… I did.” Y/N chuckled nervously again. “It’s what I bought at the store earlier… that's why I didn't let you see. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“No one-” He practically choked, chest sizzling with emotion. “No one has ever done anything like this for me… I- I adore these! I adore every single thing about them.” With that, Harry initiated a hug for the first time - his arms wrapped around Y/N and pulled her to collapse into his chest. He smelled good. So, so, so good that it made her legs feel like they were melting. Gosh, how was it that hugging Harry felt even better when he was the one holding her? She would stay in his embrace forever if she could, where they both felt safe, and snug and-

Ahem.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made both their heads vault - to Rowena, who stood by the kitchen door, wearing both an ostentatious, brightly colored dress and a self-satisfied smirk. “Sorry to interrupt, my dears, but… does nothing smell a little… burnt to you?” She asked, nodding towards the stove.

.

.

.

“Althea, get your claws out of there. You’re gonna get hair in the muffins!” Y/n shrieked, quickly shooing the troublesome feline away from the open bowl of batter sat atop the counter. The cat just meowed at her, unbothered by her person's shrieking. Thea was quite the diva. She couldn’t give a flying fuck even if she tried.

“Oh Stars, look what you’ve done!” Y/n continued, cleaning up the trail of paw prints left in the flour on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the kitchen when I’m baking Thea! Why don’t you ever listen!”

Y/n has been a little strung up lately. That’s probably the understatement of the century. Maybe if she hadn’t been put in charge of the shop for the first time by herself while her mother went to gather supplies and place orders for said shop, she wouldn’t be so stressed. She’s only 22 years into her eternal lifetime. She’s yet to learn the virtue of patience, her mind never ceasing to run with ideas and thoughts and feelings.

Her mother always griped about how she needed to take a deep breath and let go of the tension in her shoulders because now that she had stopped ageing- she had all the time in the world (literally) to do everything she was worried about. Y/n would argue that she’s not worried so much as eager. She’s just very excitable.

“Why do I even bother yelling at you anymore.” Y/n grumbled, flicking her wrist in the direction of the broom closet. The broom and dustpan came floating out and got to work sweeping up the bits of flower seeds and petals that had dropped off the table instead of into the mortar like she had planned.

Y/n’s never been known for her cleanliness.

Out of the blue, the hair on the back of her neck and arms stood at full attention, a warm shiver shooting down her spine. What the hell? She thought to herself. Thea didn’t seem bothered by whatever energy was coming closer so she knew it wasn’t any danger, but it was something. Y/n flicked her wrist once more, quickly sending the broom away and going to hide behind a wall where whoever this was couldn’t see her.

The little bells above the door chimed, alerting anyone inside that someone had just arrived. In walked, who Y/n thought to be, the most beautiful boy she thinks she’s ever seen. Chestnut curls shielded by a knit beanie, sea glass eyes, broad shoulders, a kind smile on his face. He looked as ethereal as she was.

She felt the earth shift under her feet, her heart speeding up slightly in his presence. He was magnificent, she thought. The shiver she felt was steadfast and unchanging, finding a home in the goosebumps covering her whole body. She had never felt like this before.

The witch watched from behind the wall as the man gazed about the shop, his hands rested behind his back. In a pair of black jeans with a rip in the knee and a white tee shirt with a cardigan thrown over it, he shuffled about.

Y/n took a deep breath, collecting herself before making her presence known. She walked out from behind the wall, stepping behind the main checkout counter and clearing her throat lightly.

“Welcome in! I’m Y/n, let me know if you need any help!” She said, trying not to cringe at how scripted that sounded.

His head popped up, eyes connecting with hers and that’s when they both felt the energy in the room grow. Thea came sauntering out of the kitchen area in the back, Y/n made a mental note to check the muffin batter for cat hair later, no doubt at the electrical charge of the room.

She didn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this another witch? No, she would have felt that energy differently. So he had to be a mortal. But why did it feel like she had just been set on fire in the best way possible.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

There was a pause, where neither of them wanted to move, in fear of this moment passing and never getting to feel like this ever again.

It felt like having a picnic on a warm summer day, where it’s not too hot but just right. It felt like the first breath of fresh Spring air, like hearing a baby giggle. She felt fuzzy and warm. Like she was wrapped in a hug. Y/n felt… peaceful. She felt all of her anxiety about the shop melt away, as if it had never been there.

Harry smiled at her, a pink tinge coating his skin, and pulled his eyes away (he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring), continuing on with his peruse of the shop. He had no idea why he was here, truly. Didn’t realize where he was until he pushed through the door. He doesn’t even know what any of this stuff is, he’s just looking so it seems like he knows what he’s doing.

He felt something brush his ankle, looking down and seeing a fluffy snow white cat with striking green eyes (just like his!), and cooed at her.

“Is it alright if I pet her?” He asked, looking back up at Y/n. He would take any chance he got to look at her. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. With her shiny hair and kind eyes, a smile that made you want to hug her. She looked so welcoming. He felt… oddly peaceful.

“Yeah of course! She’s my little attention whore, aren’t you Thea?” Y/n giggled and Harry thought his heart would stop right there. Her little giggle was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, he decided.

She got up from her little stool behind the counter and floated over to him, using her cat as an excuse to get closer. She just couldn’t figure out why she had such a pull to him. It didn’t make sense to her. Maybe he was a witch and was just masking his energy really well, maybe he was some sort of other creature, or maybe… no, that can’t be it.

Well…

Maybe… he’s her Flame. Her Twin Flame… Her Soulmate.

No. There’s no way. It’s so rare for witches to find their flames. And especially at such a young age. Y/n’s parents didn’t find each other for almost 75 years, and here she is at just 22, stumbling upon some magical happenstance where her Flame just saunters into her family’s shop.

Harry scratched behind Thea’s ear, a motor-like pur erupting from her little belly. She nuzzled into his touch, and then sprung up onto his shoulder from the table, startling the man. Y/n giggled at the look on his face, reaching up to scratch just above Thea’s tail, her favorite spot.

“She does that when she likes someone.” Y/n explained. A blush appeared on his face at this.

She likes him.

“So was there anything in particular you were looking for?” Y/n continued, hoping to make more conversation with him. Her fingers are buzzing, wanting to reach out and hold his hand or touch his arm, anyway she can get her hands on him really, but she knows that would be inappropriate so she refrains (however difficult it may be).

Harry was in the same boat. He felt the need to wrap her up in his embrace and never let her go. It was the strangest thing he thinks he’s ever felt.

“Honestly, no. I don’t really know what any of this stuff is… I didn’t even realize when I walked in but I didn’t want to look like a psycho just walking in and out of shops randomly.” A shy smile displays on his features.

Y/n chuckled. This furthers her hunch that he is, in fact, her Flame. Getting a random urge to come in here could only mean that the invisible string tying them together was leading him to her. Pulling them closer and closer everyday until this very moment, when they were fated to meet. Written in the stars to know each other, whether that be for love or friendship only time would tell.

She really hopes it’s love.

“Ok… We’re kind of just a general shop. We carry crystals, herbs, spices, oils, candles, and my mother does a lot of crafts, so we sell those here too.” Y/n went on to explain, Harry’s eyes flitted around to all the things she mentioned. He saw glittering crystals, by themselves but also made into jewelry like rings and necklaces, he saw bundles of different flowers and vials of liquids he assumed were the oils she mentioned.

“What is all this stuff for?” He questioned. He had never heard of anyone suddenly needing Oxeye Daisies or black onyx crystals, but he’d never been one to judge.

Y/n paused, thinking of the best way to explain everything. Practising “witchcraft” wasn’t an unusual topic to humans, but they didn’t know that witches with magic that was (semi-inaccurately) portrayed in movies and tv shows actually existed.

“Uhm, anything in the shop can be used for a number of things. Apothecary, gardening, herbal remedies, manifestation.” She explained. He nodded along with her words, doing his best to focus on what she was saying rather than just her. His body was tingling the closer she stood. He never wanted this feeling to go away.

Whatever this feeling was.

Harry looked around, his sights landing on a shelf full of colorful candles. His eyes lit up, trotting over to them, picking up one that was a light lavender color. He didn’t know he was drawn to this one in particular, but something had pulled him to grab it. Something was telling him to buy it, bring it home, and burn it on his bedside table, right next to his head every night.

It was Y/n’s favorite color.

The girl's cheeks burnt when she realized this was the one he had picked out. The occurrence might seem random to anyone passing by, anyone who didn’t know two halves of a soul had just been reunited with one another after being apart for however many years. But Y/n knew, and hopefully Harry would know soon.

She didn’t want to scare him though. He would think she was crazy. Imagine a random stranger that you’ve never seen before in your entire life tells you that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life together. He would run away screaming.

So she has to start slow.

“Think I might get a few candles…” Harry trails off, looking around at all the different shapes and sizes of colored wax sitting before him. Y/n smiles at this and nods, letting him know she’ll be at the counter if he needs anything.

Please need something, she hopes to herself.

He didn’t end up needing anything, but he ended up purchasing 3 candles, all of them being that same lavender color.

* .

. * .

It was a few weeks later when Y/n felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. Harry must be near, she thought.

She had spent the last fortnight and then some moping about the shop and her flat, hoping her Flame would turn up again. Her mother, Asteria, had been ecstatic when she heard that her daughter had found her Flame, and empathised with her pain, understanding that he was a mortal and it was difficult to form bonds with them quickly. The woman always found it interesting how the most indefinite creatures took the longest to form their bonds. But then she remembered they had no knowledge of Twin Souls and often settled for one not fated to them.

“Mama, he’s close. I can feel him!” Y/n cried, tidying her appearance in the reflection of the window. She hopes to the Stars that he’s coming to see her and not just passing through.

Waving away the brooms fluttering around the shop, she busies herself restocking shelves. Asteria had just finished a new batch of candles that needed shelving. The mother had been trying new recipes lately and was excited to see how they would fare.

Y/n almost misses the little chime of the bells signaling that someone has just entered. If it weren’t for the energy in the room skyrocketing and all the hair in her body standing at attention, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Turning, her gaze falls upon a familiar set of sea glass eyes and chestnut curls that have enchanted her mind every passing second since the first time they met. She tried her damndest to hide her grin, but had to turn away so he wouldn’t be able to see it.

Harry looked around the shop before his gaze fell upon the girl he hadn’t stopped dreaming about since he last was here. There she stood, back turned to him, with her shiny hair and adorable outfit. In a lavender colored sundress, hair pulled back by a white scarf, she fussed about the candle shelf that Harry had searched the last time he came.

Everytime he burned that candle, he thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the different items in the shop and how she smiled at him when he asked her a question.

Harry had never been one to jump into things quickly. He was the kind of guy that liked to get a feel for a situation before he really dived into it. But there was something about this girl that made him want to jump in head first, fearless. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, daydreaming about little scenarios that he wished would happen between them.

He knows he sounds crazy, but he has a crush on her. And he’d only met her once! That is so not like him at all.

Y/n turned once again, sure that she had calmed the burning in her cheeks, greeting Harry as if she hadn’t thought of him in weeks.

“Welcome in,” she says, wondering if it would be weird to him if she remembered who he was, she decided she doesn’t care, “Oh, hi Harry!”

“Hello Y/n!” He smiles. Y/n felt her heart stutter in her chest when her name fell from his lips. As if she was floating (she had to check to make sure she actually wasn’t), she followed the sound of his voice, going to stand before him. Her first instinct was to hug him, and she was very sad that she had to stop herself.

“What brings you back?” She asked, itching to reach out and hold his hand. His gaze flits around for a few seconds before landing back on her face, a rose tint now on his cheeks.

“I- uh, I don’t really know. I just felt like I needed to come back…” He stuttered. A smile graced her lips, causing an identical one to grow on his own. Asteria watched from behind the counter, beaming at the couple.

“Y/n dear, who’s this?” The witch called. Y/n snapped out of her love-drunk haze, looking to her mother.

“Mama, this is Harry. He came in a few weeks ago while you were away.” She answered, giving her a look that said “please don’t say anything.” Asteria had a tendency to butt into her daughter's life, and Y/n needed to figure this out on her own.

Thea came flouncing out from whichever corner she had burrowed herself into and nosed at Harry’s feet before launching herself onto Y/n’s shoulder and staring at Harry from her new height advantage.

“Well look at you Thea, sittin’ all pretty up there!” Harry reached out to scratch behind her ears. Thea began purring loudly, louder than she did when Y/n petted her (Y/n did her best not to roll her eyes at her attention whore cat). The one thing the girl loved about this was now she had a reason to step closer to the boy before her. He smelled like citrus and woods, with a hint of weed (she’s not judging, she just wouldn’t peg him for a stoner so it’s a little surprising). She let it take over her senses until all she could think about was HaryHaryHary, having to stop herself from purring just like the cat.

“Well, whatever led you back here, it’s nice to see you again!” She blushed, deciding to let her affection for him shine through lightly. Y/n realized she didn’t really want to waste time dancing around mortal niceties. She didn’t want to scare him off but she wouldn’t feign disinterest. The witch wanted to make it clear she was smitten with him. So this was her way of starting slow, letting her blushes be seen, maybe resting a gentle hand on his bicep if he says something that makes her laugh, letting her longing gazes be caught before she looks away.

Like she said before, she’s going to start slow.

“I am too…” Harry wondered if maybe she felt the things he was feeling too. If she couldn’t stop thinking about him the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her out. See if she wanted to get dinner with him, or have a picnic in a park on a sunny afternoon while he stared, as uncreepily as he could, at her bright smile and star-stricken eyes.

Very quickly, like it almost didn’t happen, Y/n saw a blush pink haze surrounding the boy. He was feeling love. The heat in her cheeks rose, fluttering of her heart increasing.

Now she knew for sure, he was her soulmate for love- not friendship. Thank the Stars!

* .

. * .

The next few weeks, Harry would come in every few days just to see Y/n. After realizing that she might be feeling the way he was, he wanted to make it clear to her that he was smitten. So he’d come in after he got done with whatever he’d been doing that day, bring her flowers or a blue-raspberry red bull italian soda (he saw her drinking one one day when he came by) and they would talk and sometimes he’d bring food if it was late and they would eat at the counter in the back kitchen. It became a routine, and he started showing up almost everyday. On slower days, she would close up early, so as not to have a single distraction from her Flame.

The two would talk about the most obscure things, not giving a rat if others heard them cackling at each other's jokes and misspeakings (Y/n stumbled over her words quite a bit when she was tired, he came to realize. He thought it was adorable).

In return for the beautiful flowers and the delicious drinks he’d bring her, Y/n would give him little spell jars or charmed items to make his life easier. He didn’t know they were spelled or charmed, but he thought it was cute how she gave him a lavender colored pen and told him he would think of her every time he wrote anything down (she had charmed it to always spell things correctly) or a little jar filled with lavender and chamomile buds, a few drops of lavender oil and a small amethyst crystal sealed in white wax to help quell the anxiety he’d been feeling with his job lately.

He appreciated them more than any material thing she could have purchased for him. He liked that she wanted him to think about her or that she wanted to do away with his ailments. He came in with a cold once and she spent the better part of an hour fussing over him, telling him all these little tricks to clear his sinuses and giving him different blends of herbs and spices that should clear this up in no time! He thought she was very adorable, worrying over a little cold and wanting to make him better.

Harry found that each time he left her, the force that pulled him to her grew stronger. He wanted to be in her presence more and more every time he walked out the door of the shop. The boy still didn’t really understand what it was about her, but he’s long since stopped asking questions and was just rolling with the punches.

Speaking of things Y/n did that Harry thought was cute- the things she said enamoured him, rendered him so speechless sometimes all he could do was sit there and look at her, (ironically) wondering what magical force brought her to him. He had no idea that the Universe herself was the one who chose his favorite girl.

“Oh Stars Thea! Get out of the nettle! It makes you sneeze, silly cat!”

“Stars forbid you ever listen to me, mother.”

“Althea Rose get your furry ass away from that hot wax before I feed you to the hellhounds!”

He loved how she was always saying Stars where he would normally say Jesus Christ. He never was one to be into religion but it was just something people around him said.

As the weeks went by, they began to sit closer and closer to each other. What started as across the table from one another, began to turn into her at the head and him on the corner next to her, then both of them sitting on one side but a bit of space between them, and then side by side, thighs touching, on the bench seat. Eventually, Y/n would lay one of her legs over his and he would rest his hand innocently on her skin, his thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth, tapping his fingers to an imaginary beat as she told him a story about a kooky customer that came in.

That was another thing he loved that she said a lot: kooky.

Their goodbyes had grown more and more affectionate over time as well. From a little wave and a shy smile to a little hug, to a bear hug with a kiss on the temple from Harry.

Things were moving very swimmingly. Y/n was happy with the progress the two had made in getting to know each other. She had learned that he worked at a marketing firm but his passion was music, that he was in a band when he was in high school, and he’s from a village in Manchester.

Harry learned that Y/n has a degree in herbology and really likes the woods, and the show The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (despite the inaccurate depiction of witches, she thinks the characters are pretty).

Y/n has been trying to figure out the best way to tell Harry about her… lifestyle. It’s going to be a big shift in his reality and she worries that she’s going to overwhelm him. Her parents didn’t have this problem because they were both witches, but she had been fated to a mortal, which she’s not complaining about because loves Harry and all his human afflictions (loves!), but it’s quite a task keeping him in the dark until she’s ready to shed light on everything.

Especially on a day like today.

Her mother is out again, leaving her in charge of the store, again! And as previously mentioned, Y/n gets a little strung up when she’s left in charge. She’s forgetful, her mind flying all over the place. Her messiness gets worse, leaving different things all over the place (she somehow left a grimoire in the refrigerator at home), losing things… Basically, Y/n’s not doing so hot at the moment.

A busy spell had just finished, she had like 7 different customers in at once, all of them needing her for different things and all the chamomile and lavender oil rubbed behind her ear in the world couldn’t calm the anxiety flowing through her at the moment. She’d been so strung up that she hadn’t noticed the warm golden shiver running down her spine or all the hair on her body raising to attention or the jingle of the bells on the door when Harry walked in.

Walked in to see… the brooms sweeping up by themselves? And different pots and pans flying back into place… with no one carrying them. And Y/n muttering words he didn’t understand while her fingers wiggled, making the pestle inside what he learned to be called a mortar, moving by itself.

To say the least, Harry was very confused. And a little scared. Was he dreaming? Did today even happen? Was he still at home lying in bed?

The only thing that makes him realize he’s not is the shriek Y/n let’s out when she sees him standing frozen in the doorway, eyebrows pulled together in confusion (and a little bit of terror), mouth agape like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. All at once, every moving item ceased and dropped, including the pots and pans which made a very loud noise, scaring Thea so much that she did the loud “meow!” that you only hear cats do in movies, and Y/n let out a quiet“Shit!”

“Harry…” She muttered, standing up slowly and treading towards him.

“Um… Y/n. What- what the fuck… was all of that?” He stuttered, and she continued to walk to him.

“Love, why don’t we go sit down and I’ll explain everything to you!” Y/n said slowly. She had taken to calling him Love lately, not being able to stop herself. They had yet to really “confess their feelings” to the other, but it was like a silent thing that no one said but they both just knew. So the name didn’t surprise him. Actually in the midst of all this craziness (and how his whole world had just seemed to be flipped in a matter of 5 seconds) he was clinging to the familiarity of the pet name.

He nodded, his eyes glazing over as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Y/n waved her wrist, everything that had dropped seeming to come to life again and be put back into their rightful places. Harry stared in amazement. Seeing it for the second time really drove the nail into the coffin that holy shit this is really happening…

They sat down side by side on the bench where they normally did but Y/n didn’t put her leg over his like they had grown used to. She missed the contact but figured a little space while she explained everything would be best for her Flame. Harry didn’t agree and tugged her closer to him. She didn’t fight it.

“Ok,” She sighed, cracking her knuckles as she took a deep breath, “Harry… my darling Harry. I need you to keep an open mind while I tell you all of this ok? It’s gonna be a lot for you to take in and I don’t want you to get a headache.” He nodded, and she took his hands in her own, running her thumb over his palm and channeling positive energy between the two of them. She saw Harry relax a little, letting her know it worked. He was ready (as ready as he could be) to hear what she had to say.

“Love, I’m a witch.” She says, letting it sink in for a moment. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. Y/n wonders if he’s even breathing. The strong pulse thumping in his wrist is a steady reminder that he’s ok, just shocked. (Very, very shocked).

“I come from a very long line of very powerful witches. I have magic, kind of like you see in movies and tv shows except I don’t worship the devil or eat children. None of us do. We’re usually very gentle creatures, unless we’re put in danger. Witches don’t use magic to hurt others, quite the opposite actually.”

“So… you cast spells and stuff?” He asks quietly. She breathes a laugh through her nose, nodding her head, continuing to channel him by rubbing her thumbs over his palms.

“I do, that’s what you saw me doing at the counter. I was actually strengthening the anti-anxiety jar I gave you a few weeks ago, because you told me you had a big project coming up and I didn’t want you to get too stressed out.” The girl said.

Harry couldn’t really focus on one thing for too long, letting his gaze flit around the kitchen area. He felt oddly… calm.

“Why do I feel so calm right now? I feel like I should be freaking out a little bit more than I am…” He voiced, finally looking into her eyes.

“I’m channeling you… look.” She said, pointing her gaze to their hands. He sees her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his palms and looks back into her eyes.

“You’re casting a spell on me right now?” Harry wonders out loud.

“Channeling isn’t necessarily a spell, I’m just focusing and directing positive energy onto you right now, to help keep you calm. Like I said, I don’t want you to get a headache or pass out on me. I can stop if you want me to though!” She added quickly at the end but he shook his head.

“No, don’t stop…” He almost cried, pulling her closer to him.

“Ok, I won’t. It’s ok!” She shushed him, letting one of her hands float to his cheek, brushing over his cheek bone and pushing a fallen curl out of his eyes, before her hand found his again.

“Was it a spell that made me want to come in here that first day?”

“No baby, that’s actually a little different. This might be a little much so you gotta bear with me ok?” She explained and he nodded, heaving out a heavy breath.

A beat of silence passes and Y/n lets her eyes lock with his.

“We’re Twin Flames… or what you would know as Soulmates. We were fated to be together. That’s why you felt a pull to come in here. We were… destined… to meet each other.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/n feels like her heart is about to beat out of her chest. She knew he was going to find out someday, but really didn’t expect that day to be this one. This crazy long day where everything had seemed to just bubble over and explode. She should have known something was going to happen when this morning, the flame on the candle she had lit for Harry on her altar was taller than it ever had been. She had written it off to him just thinking about her or something (if this was the case, it would be to the ceiling all day everyday because he never stops thinking about her), but she should have known. And now, here she was, terrified that Harry was going to walk away from her. She would understand if he did, it’s a lot to take in, and having your whole world flipped on its head is a bit much.

It would still break her heart though.

“So… this is normal?” Harry broke his silence.

“Is what normal?”

“That I want to be around you all the time? That I think about you all the time? What I’m feeling is normal?”

Y/n’s face softens. He’s so cute, she thinks. She could just wrap him up in a little bow and keep him all to herself for the rest of time.

“Yes, baby. It’s normal! I’ve been feeling the same things as you ever since we first met!” Harry’s mind is a little clearer now, so he picks up on the new pet name. Baby. He likes it, he decides.

“You feel this way too?” He looks like a little puppy right now, Y/n could just cry. She nodded her head, scooting impossibly closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. It seemed now that he was even calmer than he had been before, even without her channeling. She stopped for a second to test his reaction and he was ok. He didn’t tense up, eyes didn’t well in tears, didn’t lose consciousness. So she moved her hands to cup his cheeks now, feeling him lean into her touch.

“You’ve been the only thing on my mind since before you even walked through the door that first day. You’re in my dreams every night, I see you every time I close my eyes, I’m completely taken with everything you do.” Y/n confesses, feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“I know it seems fast to you, as a mortal. Your kind usually takes this kind of thing slowly, really learns a person before you become vulnerable. Out of fear for being judged or whatever it might be, but I would never judge you. I want you to know it’s ok to let your guard down with me. Whatever you're comfortable with! I don’t want to overwhelm you in any way, and I know all of this is so so much to take in. I just want what’s best for you, my Love.”

It’s not lost on Harry that she adds my before Love. He feels his heart flutter.

“I’m taken with everything you do too. Absolutely everything.” He whispers, if he speaks too loudly the moment might be lost.

They stare into each other's eyes, feeling the energy in the room grow. Flames from the lit candles around the room grow tenfold, reflecting the rising energy. Harry has half a mind to break his gaze from the girl before him, seeing the tall flames before bringing his eyes back to hers. He sees her gaze drop to his lips repeatedly. He doesn’t think she even realizes that she’s leaning in to him, but he’s not going to stop her.

When she’s so close he can feel her breath fanning over his face, she pauses, looking back up to his eyes, silently asking for permission. With her hands still cupping his cheeks gently, she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips delicately to his. Harry places his hands in two places: her waist and her neck. He pulls her in closer, pressing their lips together more firmly. A wildfire spreads from head to toe on both of them. It seems as though time has paused for this very moment, and again the earth shifts. A piece of the universe has just been restored, two halves of a soul reunited.

Harry’s fingertips send sparks flowing down her spine, she hums against his lips. The kiss is simple, just two people getting to know each other, learning the other's body, but it’s long. It’s not just one peck. Harry presses his lips against hers multiple times, slotting her bottom between both of his.

When Y/n pulls back to catch her breath, Harry chases after her, not ready to end this moment yet. She chuckles and grants him a few more kisses until she really is about to pass out because she needs to breathe. Pushing him gently, she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed.

She so badly wants to let the three words sitting on the tip of her tongue go, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him with too much all at once.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, pulling her to sit astride his lap. She moves pliantly, letting him take control of the situation.

The air feels charged, thick, like it should be hard to breath but it flows, smooth as water, into their lungs.

Y/n’s head feels heavy, like she’s high on every drug there ever was, her mind fuzzy, unable to think outside of this moment. Outside of this little wrinkle in time where Harry is the only other thing that exists.

“Yeah,” She whispers back, reconnecting their lips, slotting them together over and over until their lips are puffy and red. Harry slides his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, not even a slip of paper would fit.

Pulling away, Harry heaves in a deep breath, squeezing Y/n’s hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” He says, nudging his nose against hers. She smiles, letting his affections wash over her, warming her eternal soul.

“This doesn’t freak you out?”

“Oh, I’m so freaked out but I'm kind of just going with it, living in the ambiguity and all that shit.” He heaves a laugh through his nose, pressing kisses to her cheek and down her neck, smoothing his hands up and down her back.

This was the best possible outcome of the situation, if Y/n had to be honest. It could have gone so many ways. Harry being freaked out but rolling with it… she’ll take it.

“How about we make dinner and you can ask me any questions you have?” She suggested and he nodded.

So they did just that. But Y/n closed the shop early and they went back to her place. Hand in hand they walked the few blocks, side glaces of reassurance and little squeezes of the hand, letting the other know they were there, and they weren’t going anywhere, with Thea in her little travel backpack (that she was absolutely in love with surprisingly).

They came upon an unsuspecting alleyway. Harry thought they were just passing through as a shortcut but Y/n stopped walking in the middle of a blank brick wall and muttered a few words she didn’t understand while waving her hands. He started to realize maybe this wasn’t just a shortcut.

Before his eyes, a door appeared. His brows shot up in surprise (he’s gonna get worry lines on his forehead if he doesn’t stop doing that, he realizes). Y/n looked over her shoulder at him, trying to hide a smirk but the look on his face was too good.

“Pretty wicked huh?” Harry didn't say anything, just chuckled and nodded, following her when she opened the door and a set of stairs appeared. Walking up the dimly lit hallway, they come to another door with the cheeky The Witch Is In sign.

“Cute.” Harry smirks at her and she laughs, opening it and letting him walk through first.

“Make yourself at home! I’ve got records on the shelf over there, you can pick one if you want. I’m just gonna feed Thea and get her all settled and we can get to making dinner.” Y/n explained. Harry ventured off into her living room, seeing the shelf she was talking about and browsing through. There were many different artists from Fleetwood Mac to Taylor Swift to Weezer. He picks out Hozier's self-titled album and puts it on, the beginning of Take Me To Church crackling through the speakers.

“Good choice,” He hears from behind him and smiles, turning around to see the girl he was apparently destined to spend the rest of his life with standing before him.

“Jackie and Wilson has been stuck in my head the last few days so,” He said, sauntering over to her and snaking his arms around her waist.

Taking a look around, he sees many different trinkets and items similar to what was in the shop. A lot of jars filled with different things, candles of all different colors, crystals, a broom (he didn’t realize witches actually had brooms but ok), among other things that he didn’t know the purpose of.

“Wait… how are there windows in here? I didn’t see any outside.” He asked, pulling back from the hug and looking at her.

“Well, there aren’t any windows in the alley. But there’s also a glamour spell on this building so nobody can see my apartment. That’s why you can’t see the door until I do the little thing you saw me do.” She answered. A sheepish smile broke onto his face.

“Oh,” he said and she laughed from her chest, petting a few fallen curls back from his forehead. She could get used to this, she thinks as she stares into his eyes, green as the forest and wide with wonder at everything he’s discovered today.

Who knew the girl he was falling in love with would be a witch… with actual powers.

* .

. * .

“Wait so, if no one can see your front door… how do you get mail?” Harry asked, reaching around Y/n for the salt.

“At the shop,”

“Oh,” He says. She laughs, kissing his cheek and continuing on cutting up veggies for the salad they're making.

“Have you always been able to do magic or was it something you grew into?” Y/n thought back to when she was little, remembering how she struggled to harness her powers for a few years before she started getting the hang of things.

“I always had powers, but imagic isn’t something you just wake up and know how to do so it took a while for me to really settle into and control. Magic is a skill, same as reading and writing, so I had to be taught and I had to work on it. Does that make sense?” She pauses while she explains, looking into his eyes. Harry nods, but his light hearted curious expression turns into one of embarrassment and she doesn’t understand why.

A rosy red color surrounds him, telling her he was feeling… embarrassed? Why did he feel embarrassed?

“Baby? What’s going through your head?” She asks, wanting to help him feel better.

She doesn’t like when he’s feeling anything other than happy!

“I just… I feel like I’m asking you so many questions about all of this stuff and it’s just tough to wrap my head around I guess.” She puts the knife down and sets her hand on his wrist, stopping from what he’s doing. She places her other hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her.

“Harry, this is a lot to take in, yeah? It’s not something you can just find out and move on from. It’s gonna take time to process. You’re gonna feel a lot of emotions, and that’s ok! I would be worried if you weren’t feeling a little off, as much as I hate that you’re not feeling 100%.”

She places a series of gentle pecks on his lips, doing her best to soothe him in any way.

“Ask all the questions you want! You don’t have to worry about being judged or saying something wrong, you have a right to be curious.” She feels him relax in her hold which in turn makes her relax.

“Thank you for being patient with me,”

He’ll get used to this, he thinks. He’ll get used to the fact that real witches actually exist, he’ll start to understand the words she mutters when she waves her hands, he’ll get it eventually. But right now, he doesn’t really get it, he’s not really used to it. But she’s worth it. She’s worth more than everything.

“I think you’re the one thing I know how to be patient with,” Again, she wants to mutter those three words on the tip of her tongue, but he’s already been through so much today, she doesn’t want to overwhelm him any more than he already is. So she’ll wait, because one day (hopefully soon) he’ll be ready to hear them.

“Can you do a spell? I kind of want to see how they work…” Harry asks after a moment of them just enjoying the silence that only really comes when two people understand each other.

She chuckles and nods, telling him she will show him a few spells after dinner. He agrees and they go back to making their meal, dancing around each other and laughing just like they always did and it felt good. Felt like this would be ok. Y/n was still scared because he could still decide to leave, that this was too much for him. That she was too much for him.

But for right now, things were ok.

* .

. * .

“Amoris et lux sum ego ipse, et carorum beatum facere potest, per potentiam solem et lunam, ut superius, et inferius.”

(I am love and light, I bring happiness to myself and my loved ones, By the power of the sun and moon, as above, so below)

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything weirder in his life...and his college roommate freshman year was a conspiracy theorist.

As Y/n spoke the words, she stirred a brew of tea infused with different herbs clockwise. He watched from beside her as she did this, his hand placed on her thigh so that his energy could be used in the spell along with hers.

Before she said the spell, she told him to set an intention and he had no idea what that was so she did a little lesson after reassuring him that his question was valid. (He’s still feeling insecure about not understanding anything she was talking about.) She told him to “close your eyes, take a deep breath, and clear your mind. Think of something you want in life that isn’t material.”

His immediate thought was that he wanted to spread kindness and love in the world (Y/n did her best not to tear up at her Flame’s pure intentions) so she nodded, telling him to think about that and only that, and set her intentions to the same thing so the spell would work. Mixing lavender, rose petals, and chamomile in a large mug, she pours in hot water to steep the herbs and, as previously mentioned, stirs it clockwise (something about clockwise being for manifestation), , rubs her palms together and snaps her fingers, and snuffs out the candles she had lit.

When all is said and finished, Y/n pulls Harry into a sweet kiss, and then has him take a sip of the tea telling him be careful my Love, it’s still hot. He kisses her back, taking a sip of the tea (he’d never been one for lavender things but this was actually really good. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Y/n made it).

“So we just drink this and then what?” He asks, handing her the mug.

“We sacrifice an animal,” She says, not skipping a beat and taking her sip. Harry chokes on his spit, gasping for a breath of air before the girl bursts into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just kidding, baby. That’s it. That’s the whole spell. You just have to honestly believe it for it to work.” She says and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t joke like that!” He whines, more giggles escaping from Y/n’s throat.

“I’m sorry bub, I won’t do that anymore.” She says, still fighting off laughs. They continue to sip the tea, Y/n telling Harry about different things she did during the day.

Harry looked upon her as if she hung the moon just for him, and was telling him all about how she did it. Without even realizing it, he started to feel warmer and like a buzz was coursing through his veins.

“I feel weird…”

“What do you mean you mean you feel weird?” She voiced, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead and then feeling his pulse. Both were normal.

“I feel warm and like I’m buzzing… Kind of like I’m high…” He explained and she nodded her head, a small sigh of relief escaping her.

“That’s the spell working baby. You’re ok!”

“Oh, ok. It just worried me a little,”

“You’re ok! I want you to tell me when something worries you or feels different or off.” She says, and places a hand on his thigh. Harry agrees and they continue with their conversation.

When they both took their last sips on the tea, they cuddled up on the couch, an incense stick and candle lit on the coffee table.

Y/n sat, manipulating the smoke and flame simultaneously while Harry watched with a wide eyed gaze. She had explained how this was something he would be able to learn if he wanted to, and that she had been practicing for years to be able to do both things at the same time.

“I started when I was… I want to say 5. It’s a simple skill that promotes concentration. You have to stay extremely focused to even manipulate one element at a time. It’s only been these last few years that I’ve been able to concentrate enough to do both.” She explained, taking a break. As much as she loved showing Harry all these different things, it took a lot of energy out of her and it had already been a dreadfully long day.

“How about we go to sleep and I’ll show you more tomorrow? I’m pooped!” Harry hums an agreement, lifting his head from her lap and letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Light lavender walls adorned with shelves full of plants and different nicknacks, and a desk with more candles, herbs, and other eclectic items sat atop it.

“What is all of this?” He sifts through all the things on the desk, not touching as Y/n had explained to him at some point today, I know you don’t have any ill intent, but a lot of this stuff absorbs other people's energy which can mess up what I use it for, so look and don’t touch. If you want a closer look, I’ll pick it up. There are different colored stones of varied shapes and sizes and many candles. One in particular catches his eyes. A green one with a very tall flame with something carved into the side of it. “What’s up with this green candle?”

“This is my altar, and the green candle is the one I have lit for you. I’m assuming that because you’re here, it’s going a little crazy. Nothing to be afraid of! I’m actually going to put it out since you’re here with me.” She explained quickly, reaching towards the flame with her finger and snuffing it out.

“Wait, you had a candle lit for me?” His eyes rounded, a shy smile coming onto his lips. An identical smile graced her features as she turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had one lit for you since the day we met. I made a sigil and carved it into the side and keep it lit day and night as an extra layer of protection for you.” She explained. Harry felt his heart melt at this.

She couldn’t get any cuter, he thinks.

A candle lit for him… to keep him safe. That’s adorable.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing the little hairs away from her face.

Y/n led him further into her room where her ensuite bathroom was, giving him a tooth brush and letting him know he could shower if he wanted to. When he came back into the room after getting ready, Y/n laid out on the bed in a sports bra and shorts. He just wore his boxers.

Climbing into bed next to her, she cuddled up to him right away, his arm finding a home around her body and her head laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Been dreaming about this moment my whole life,” Y/n mumbled, cheek smushed against his skin, making her look all cute and cuddly. Harry had to hold back a coo at the sentiment.

“Me too Moppet, me too,” He sighed, and they both drifted off into warm, fluffy, dream-like states, wrapped in the safety of each other's arms.

* .

. * .

Walking down the street at night isn’t the best idea for normal women, Y/n had learned over her 22 years of life. But Y/n is not a normal woman. She’s a witch.

And while most women carry their keys between their knuckles and have tasers or pepper spray or mace at the ready, Y/n didn’t really need that. This was one of the only instances where she would use her magic to harm anyone. Like she’d said before- only when she’s put in danger (or someone else around her is put in danger).

So when a prick who reeks of whiskey starts tailing her, she waits for him to take the first blow. Waits for him to get a little too close, so she can turn around and unleash her wrath on him. All the while making it seem like it’s not her doing. Like causing a brink to fall off the roof above her and hit him in the head. She wouldn’t actually do that but a witch could dream.

No, she’ll trip him up without turning around and if he still insists on gaining her attention, she’ll spin around quick, flick her wrist and send him into an unconscious daze and let him sleep off his inebriation on the lovely warmth of the concrete sidewalk.

That’s exactly what she does.

“Hey sweetheart, where you goin’?” He slurs, beginning his trek behind her. She’s unresponsive which leads him to believe she’s playing hard to get because his fragile little man ego can’t fathom that a woman would ignore his attention.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that!” He speeds up, already wobbling but this only serves to make him clumsier.

She does her thing, flicking her wrist in his direction (discreetly) so he trips, but this doesn’t stall him. He reaches out, effectively grabbing her arm. She whips around to face him, cheeks growing red hot with anger. Ripping her arm out of his grasp and twisting his arm around, she gets close to his face.

“Touch me again, I fucking dare you!” She snarls, doesn’t even realize her grip is burning into his flesh- her magic gets a little crazy when she’s mad. Releasing him (tossing his arm away from her in a rough manner), she flicks her wrist once again and mutters a quick “et obliviscere somnum*”, watching him fall to the ground, unconscious. She looked around to see if anyone was watching the scene go down but no one was sober enough to pay attention to some drunk bloke harassing a young woman.

*(forget and sleep)

She shakes off her frustration as she comes to a stop in front of an unfamiliar building. Where her Flame lives.

She had agreed to let him make her dinner at his house, so she packed an overnight back and made her way further into town. He had given her an address and while, yes she did use it, she also let their bond lead her to him. She just kind of knew where to go, it seemed. Harry had expressed that he felt something similar the first time he went into the shop, though he didn’t understand why he wanted to walk in- just felt like he had to.

Making her way up the stairs, she let’s Harry know she’s there, beginning to feel the familiar tingle rush down her spine. She hadn’t seen him for a week and a half since he's been busy with a project at work- a client wasn’t happy with all the work he and a coworker had done so they had to quickly re-do an entire proposal to meet the client's deadline. Needless to say- the little anti-anxiety jar she made him was coming in real handy lately. Y/n had also had him put citrine and amethyst points on his desk while he worked to help him focus and stay calm so he didn’t stress too badly.

She always had a little something to make his life easier, whether it be a stone, or a jar of different things (a spell jar, he’d learned), or whatever it may be- she always had something to help.

When she made it to his floor, he was standing there waiting for her with open arms. She ran to him, jumping into his arms and holding onto him tight.

“I missed you, my wild girl,” He muttered into her neck, spinning her around. Her face flushed without fail, her arms wrapping tighter around him.

“Missed you most,” She sighed, nuzzling into him.

“Don’t think that’s possible.”

She hummed in disagreement while he walked them inside, Y/n still wrapped around him like a koala bear. His house smelled of peach and mango. It’s sweet- just like him. The thought made her smile.

Giving him a big smacking kiss on the cheek, she pulls back to have a look at his face, seeing he’s smiling like an idiot. It warms her heart to see him smile, butterflies breaking out of their cocoons and fluttering about her tummy.

“What’re you smiling for?” She voices, giggling at him.

“M’ happy you’re here,” He sighed, “Don’t like not seeing you.”

“I don’t like not seeing you either,” She frowned, petting his wild curls back and placing little pecks all around his face.

His cheeks flushed at her affection.

Harry set Y/n down on the kitchen counter, standing in between her legs, hands resting on her hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers lightly, before slotting them together, fully indulging himself in his girl. She responds immediately, letting her hands rest around his neck.

She will never not be amazed by how soft his lips are. Kissing him feels like floating through clouds, like laying down in bed after a long day on your feet. Kissing him is like the first breath of warm summer air after the longest winter. Kissing him feels like coming home.

Y/n’s heartbeat picks up as the kiss becomes more needy, leaning into him further. Harry pulls her closer, his hands ghosting up the bare skin under her shirt and fiddling with the band of the bralette she’s wearing. A gasp escapes her lips when he pulled the fabric up, letting it snap back to her skin causing a smirk to grow on his face- struggling to keep up with her lips.

He kisses her breathless before pulling away, watching as her eyes flutter open and she heaves air into her lungs, her cheeks flushed and supple.

“Don’t want the food to burn,” He smirks again, hands falling away from her body, moving the pots and pans on the stove around to the counter so he could plate their dinner.

“Asshole,” He hears her mutter.

Harry could get used to this, having Y/n around. Being able to come home to her, make them dinner, make out in the kitchen, fall asleep together. He can’t believe he ever thought he loved anyone before she came along. There was just no way. Y/n came into his life and took over every aspect and now he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. He hopes to the Stars he doesn’t have to.

It was a quiet night, maybe even too quiet for what the Brit was usually used to. The chilly wind was hitting him in the face while he was walking towards the source of noise, drowning out the laughter and talks of the few people on the streets. The club, where he was headed, was awfully full, compared to the rest of the city and if it was up to him, he wouldn’t even be there. Why would he want to anyway? Something about crowded places with only sweaty, smelly, and intoxicated people never sounded extremely comfortable to him. Especially if the music was blasting in his ears, almost making them bleed, with the same obnoxious songs on repeat the whole night. After witnessing the greatest times of music, he was convinced that nowadays artists had no idea what they were doing and most of the time, their music wasn’t as good as they made it out to be. That’s why he preferred much more to get drunk in a small group of friends and sometimes even small parties or gatherings but not large clubs, as he wasn’t able to switch the music whenever he pleased, or was constantly sorrohnded by strangers who knew no personal space.

But to have fun was not the purpose of him being there and he needed to focus if he wanted to get the job done. So, he couldn’t distract himself by buying endless drinks of hoping he’d get a bit intoxicated, even if it meant to only be tipsy. His head had to be fully in the moment.

When he tried to walk through the door, the tall and bulky bouncer was already grabbing him by his arm, yanking him backward with no effort. Harry didn’t expect of him to just let him sneak inside. He very much hoped that he wouldn’t, as a playful smirk crept on his face. He knew he was going to love what was about to happen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a monotone voice, trying his best to come off as strong and scary while Harry tried his best to stiffen his laughter. Humans were so pathetic sometimes but it wasn’t really their fault that they didn’t know that Harry would get inside, one way or another, and them fighting him would solely be a waste of time.

“Look man, I’m not trying to pick a fight, so, just let me get in.” His tone was calm and slow but yet vibrant, making sure his words would echo in his head. Harry tried his best to imitate him with the way he talked, as he was not tall, nor muscular enough to do so. It’s not that Harry wasn’t tall or musuclar, because he was tall and could pull more weights with his upper chest than most people with their whole bodies but he just couldn’t compare to the bouncer. 

But that didn’t seem to help. “No.” The man was shaking his head again while Harry took one step closer.

“I just–”

“–I said no.” Immediately the bouncer grabbed Harry by his shirt, pulling him away from the entrance. “You’re not invited.” He explained harshly with gritted teeth, his eyes staring directly into Harry’s green ones. He just smiled fondly, while keeping the bouncer’s gaze.

Slowly Harry leaned to him, whispering right before his furious face. “Quod dico facies.” His minty breath got stuck in the bouncer’s nose, while his words burned into his brain. His grip immediately loosened around Harry’s shirt and his gaze was not as strong as it was before. Even the anger had left him within seconds. Just like Harry wanted. With his hands, he seemed to straighten his clothes, before he turned to him again. “I’ll go inside, you won’t say anything about it and forget ever meeting me, got it?” As if it was music to the bouncer's ears, he nodded with his head in a complete trance. “Attaboy.” Harry chuckled, patting the bald man's head, as he would do to a dog, before he walked inside the stuffy, crowded, and dark room. Quickly he put his blazer back in place, dust the imaginary dirt off him, while he was still amused of how easy it was for him to get his way. He was so smug about being a witch and never would he give up his powers to be a lousy mortal. Ever.

As he walked further into the building more sweaty bodies collided with him, annoying him but he tried to play it off as he moved with the rhythm, searching for the person, he was in there for. Urgently, his emerald orbs were searching through the crowds, trying desperately to find the girl, who was a headache to locate. She really didn’t let him find her easily, as she was strong enough to be invisible to his magic. She was strong enough to channel his powers away from her but Harry wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t absolutely sure that she’d be here. He wouldn’t be in the messy club, in the first place, if she wasn’t such a powerful witch. After all she can be as invisible as she wanted to be to his magic but people will always talk.

Slightly, he was shoving people away from him when he finally found her, his prey. Her dark skin was shining in golden tones underneath the dim lights, almost exposing her as a witch, as she looked so eternal in her glowy, orange dress and her long nails, gripping the dark glass of her drink. Her wild curls were framing perfectly, while she flaunted her long legs on the barstool and for a moment Harry admired her beauty before he felt ready to go talk to her, swallowing a lump that was forming in his throat. Mentally he wanted to slap himself for the way his hands started to sweat nervously and his heartbeat rapidly against his ribcage. Of course, she was going to be absolutely breathtaking. The energy she radiated was enough to knock the air out of his lungs and he wondered how long it had taken her to master the craft the way she did. Not many witches were able to do black and white magic but she was, and that made her so incredibly powerful. Maybe sixty years ago, others would have treated like royalty because of it but now, no one really cared. Magiy wasn’t the way it used to, as most witches weren’t so reckless anymore. That’s why he feared that he would find someone like her, someone with her abilities. And that’s exactly what Harry wanted. He wanted –no, needed– her magic source to be his and he wasn’t going to stop until he finally has it.

“Hello.” He introduced himself with a deep, raspy voice and a charming smile tilting at his rosy lips, while his right hand went through his chestnut curls, knowing well that he was showing off his best features.

Her head turned around just for a second, scoffing when she caught a glimpse of him, before shifting her gaze to the barkeeper again. “You again, English man.” She dryly let out, not impressed of seeing him again.

“The one and only.” Sheepishly, Harry let out a humorous chuckle, as he remembered back to when he had met her for the first time. She didn’t really let him talk to her and was more busy at the witches market, pretending that he wasn’t even there. For a second his confidence wavered when he wondered whether or not she had seen, or remembered him. But she did. At least that was a start. He was glad that he had overheard her talking about her magic, since he was already on a hunt for someone like her and even if he hadn’t expect to find her while he was busy buying animal bones, crystals or some insects. 

“I won’t get rid of you that easily, won’t I?” She hissed and finally looked back at the man who tried his best not to frown. He wasn’t going to give up. Of course not. But he knew he had a long night ahead of him if she was going to stay this cold. “How did you find me anyway?”

“It’s not hard to find someone as gorgeous as you. Everybody notices and remembers.” He batted his eyelashes, leaning on the dark table next to her while looking deeply into her dark eyes. A glimpse of amusement sparkled in them. Of course, complimenting her would help him get to her. He was well aware of his charms, and the seductive fragrance he had used, helped him magically, in addition. And he knew how witches worked and what they liked. Every single one of them was stubburn and loved compliments, as their egos were no match to humans, or so it seemed.

A small smirk was playing at the corners of her full lips. “So you were asking around for me?” He was putting on his best act, even tried to act nervous, as if he was a naive, amateur witch, struck by her beauty and power. In a way, he was struck by her but he wasn’t as nervous. When he started chewing on his bottom lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and even managing to blush, she was forced to let out a girly giggle, fully believing his act. “Don’t get nervous now, rookie, and sit down.” He nodded delicately, before grabbing the stool’s soft leather and pushing it back, so he was able to sit down on it. Once Harry sat down, she continued fidgeting at her bracelet, to get it in the right position, where it wasn’t distracting her. “Why are you looking for me? What do you need?”

“Nothing.” Immediately Harry bit on his tongue, as the word bubbled out of his mouth, a little too fast for his liking. He couldn’t risk making her suspicious.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced by his fast and short answer. “I don’t believe you, loverboy.”

“Well, do I need to have a reason to admire you?” His grin was never fading and his voice remained strong. After all, he had done this before but he couldn’t deny that it was always nerve wrecking.

She laughed. “You really try to be charming, don’t you?” Her elbow was placed next to her drink, while she smiled widely at him before gripping his bicep with her hand and giving him a soft squeeze. Hot chills were running through Harry’s body, like electricity.

Knowingly, he leaned closer to her ear, whispering into it in his most seductive voice, as he knew he had her ego was strocked enough. “I’m not trying.” He didn’t attempt to grow some distance between their bodies, to make sure she'd smell what he was wearing, knowing exactly, that it would make her brain release more oxytocin. That’s exactly what he wanted, as he knew, it was going to increase her trust, make him seem more attractive than he already was, and– most importantly– it was going to increase her sex drive.

“I’m impressed. Most witches don’t have the guts to talk to me.”

“You’re already impressed? I can do so much more.”

She pursed her lips and it didn’t take Harry many more words before both of them ended up in his place, or at least the place he was staying at. It was a nice and expensive hotel that had a preference for marble floors and huge chandeliers. Harry enjoyed the finer things in life and he didn’t feel bad about it and seeing how her face lit up, he assumed, she didn’t either.

As his lips were trailing down her jaw and her chest, she made sure to push his hair out of his handsome face, to tug on them harshly. Delicately he hissed at her action, before he hid her face into her neck again, while the sweet scent of oranges filled his nostrils, almost hypnotizing him into inhaling it deeper. His plum lips left a trail down her chest, his hands roaming all over her body and his tongue began to explore her sweet skin. Even if making themselves both feel good wasn’t really his priority, it didn’t stop him from enjoying the moment. She felt so intoxicatingly good and all he felt in that moment was how his forehead began to sweat, his pants growing tighter. Slowly he pushed her against the wall, trailing his hands up and down her spine, causing goosebumps to cover her chocolate skin, and he didn’t hesitate before he slipped her dress off.

A smug smile adorned her flawless features. “Doesn’t seem too fair that you’re still so awfully clothed.” She noted, almost ripping his blazer and shirt off him, while he was busy slipping his pants off, leaving him only in his underwear. “Better.” Her hands gripped his neck, pulling him deeper into her, as her teeth began to carve into his heated skin, leaving small marks behind. Fiercely, he unclasped her bra, running his hands over her, already hardening, nipples before twisting them in between his fingers. He heard her moan, making him grip her harder before he started to kiss her bare chest, his tongue licking down her body before he was on his knees and his hands sliding down to her hips. The witch gripped the curly boy's head, pushing him between her legs. “Why don’t you put your mouth to good use?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Gladly.” Painfully slow, his teeth gripped at the fabric of her panties, tugging them down, while her dark eyes watched him impatiently. Once the fabric was out of the way, he made sure to leave many trails of kisses on the insides of her thighs, as his thumbs rubbed small circles on her hips.

Annoyed, she rolled her eyes. “Stop being a fucking tease.” The hand gripping his curls, tugged harder at them, sending a painful shiver down his spine. She pushed his face right between her legs, keeping him steady, as he had no other choice but to taste her and find out if she tasted as good as she smelled. Sinful sounds left both of their mouths, while he drove his tongue deeper and harder into her, covering himself in her juices, while he felt his cock painfully throbbing inside his pants. “Fuck. Just like that.” She let out with a shaky breath, making Harry laugh against her lips. Trembling vibrations were sent through her body, making the pleasure even more craving. Her words spurred him on even more before he dipped his fingers slowly into her wet core. Juices were instantly covering his ring cladded fingers, while he felt her legs trembling softly, as they were fighting to be open.

Even though he was making sure for her to feel good, his mind was tracing to his plan. He had to make sure that she was distracted enough, so she wouldn’t be able to stop him. That’s why he sucked harder, and his fingers went in and out of her faster and deeper. He felt her walls clenching around his fingers, while her moans began to get louder. It didn’t take him much more till her legs were properly shaking, her hands loosening their grip on his hair and a loud orgasm was given to her by him. Her juices still running down her inner thighs, he slowly lifted himself up from the floor. She was still trying to catch her breath, and he took his sweet time, prepping, even more, kisses on her neck, feeling her fast beating heartbeat.

“You taste so sweet.” He lulled into her ear, her completely oblivious to his hand reaching into his back pocket, revealing a sharp dagger. “Almost as sweet as you smell.” His tongue licked along her pulsating vein, knowing that it’ll stop soon enough. For a final time, he nuzzled his nose into her, letting her scent linger on him for a short time. “So sad, that it’ll all go to waste.”

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.” He said while he gripped her chin between his fingers, looking into her eyes. For a minute it seemed that he was admiring her eyes, but that facade was quickly destroyed, as his dagger cut through that beautiful skin of hers. A heavy whimper left her lips, as blood rushed down her body. An evil smirk evident on him when he watched the life slowly fading from her face.

“Y– Yo– You… asshole.” She stuttered, gripping her neck with her shaky hands while her mouth was open wide.

A deep laugh escaped his mouth, shaking his head. “Not my fault that you’re fooled so easily, my darling.” A wave of guilt overcame him when he saw the dark liquid running down her body, as she tried so desperately to make it stop, and maybe he would’ve tried to help her if he didn’t know what was at stake. No matter how hard he wanted to feel sorry for her, he forbade himself to. Her life was long enough, and her death wasn’t going to be a tragedy, but rather serve a bigger purpose. That’s why all the guilt escaped his body, his eyes turning a stone-cold color before he dipped his fingers into the dark liquid. “Thanks for everything, by the way.” Coordinated, he drew symbols on the walls. “You were much easier than other witches, but no one got me hard as fast as you did. I’ll give you that.” Effortlessly he drew every lines of the rune, he needed, before pressing his palm into the middle of the circle. “I’ll always be grateful.” Thick, sticky blood dripped down his hands when he exhaled deeply through his nostrils. “Nomine Omnes damnatos septem maria lunam, vires me confero.” A burning feeling overcame his body, as fire seemed to run through his veins. A sensation that was painful, yet powering at the same time and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t addicted to it. 

He was addicted to feeling powerful. 

He was addicted to being powerful.

Too consumed in his ecstatic state, he completely forgot to keep his eyes on the dying witch. She wasn’t feeling better, in fact, she knew she was taking her last breaths, as she was sliding down the wall, leaving a dark red tail on the white wallpaper with flower patterns. Her shaky fingers drew one rune on her own, trying her best not to mess it up. “Virt– Virtus... omnia laterent... vafer om– omni ma– malo.” She whispered with the last strength inside of her, before pressing her palm on her drawing.

Immediately Harry’s eyes shot towards her, panic rising inside of him at the unknown spell she just cast. “What was this?” But she didn’t respond. Her limbs too weak to move, her eyes rolling back in her head as Harry strutted towards her with heavy steps. “You fucking bitch. What the fuck did you do?” Rapidly he shook her body, but she stayed still, as he felt all his previous power escape her body, leaving him with an empty feeling.

Scared, he looked down at his blood-smeared hands, trying his hardest to do something, anything.

“Lux a flamma usque.” Nothing.

“Ne flux aqua.” Nothing.

“Stone, parva et ipsum.” Nothing again.

Harry furiously shook his head, as he tried to find an explanation for his absence of magic. He didn’t know how to explain it, or how she had done it and most importantly, how to reverse it.

But he knew one thing, he knew he messed up.

With slow but steady steps Y/N walked down the foggy path, playing with the book in her hands while she whistled to an innocent tune as the birds seemed to join her on her walk through the dark forest. Grey clouds were above her, almost threatening to pour rain if she dared to stay outside any longer but that wasn’t one of her concerns. Stubbornly her head was still deeply buried inside her book that she wanted to read since she couldn’t find the time to lately.

It wasn’t necessarily that she hadn’t had time to read, because she did. Her daily routine didn’t take too much of her time and way too often she found herself being bored out of her mind. That’s why she had an impressive collection of books laying around at her cozy place and no matter how fond, or proud, she was of her house, she couldn’t read there. Maybe it was the silence that seemed to haunt her or the fact that she felt extremely lonely as she had no one near her. No neighbors, no family, and not even any human friends. And despite the fact that she didn’t socialite with anyone in that cafe, she felt a little less lonely when she saw the world around her with so many different people, as they went by, not realizing how interesting they were to her. Every single person had their own way of talking, moving, and even radiated different energy but yet, they all lived together in harmony. Or at least as harmonized as possible.

Y/N wanted to be a part of it sometimes, but she knew she would never fit in. There were too many differences between them and her, at least that’s what she told herself whenever she got scared of opening up. She really didn’t know how to. That’s why she always played with the thought of never going back to the cafe but she couldn’t stop when she remembered how her place feels like when she got a minute to herself and was able to drown in her thoughts.

Too often she visited the little space, where the world seemed to come to a halt and nobody dared to speak up or question her antics as she visited that place frequently, even though it wasn’t exactly near her home, or was easy for her to reach. She didn’t even remember when or how she found the cafe but she was convinced that there was no better place for her, if she wanted to feel included, once in her life. No one really talked to her, or at least not more than just a “hello” or “is the seat taken?” but it was enough for her to be a part of the moving crowd.

Her legs were carrying her dreadfully through the path covered with yellow, orange, red, and brown leaves. The world would have seemed so colorful with the birds singing and her footsteps echoing through the ending forest if it weren’t for the fog clouding her vision. But what else could anyone expect from an ordinary autumn day? Y/N was aware of the weather, so she was never surprised by it.

When the crowded trees came to an end and car sounds were getting louder, Y/N lifted her head up from the path, trying her best to spot the cafe that was located not too far away from the main road. Her hair was blown away by the cold breeze, painting her cheeks in a soft color and her hands gripped the hardcover of her romantic novel, as her steps became more eager, knowing well that she was almost at her destination.

It had been too many days since she had the time to visit the never heavily crowded place. Curiosity ate her up from the inside as she thought about her book, yet excitement spread through her body at the same time. She waited so long to finish it and originally it was her plan to have started a new one by now but her cat, Jupiter, got sick and she couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Also, Y/N knew that something had to be up if he got sick and she didn’t know what could’ve thrown the universe out of balance. Her familiar hardly ever got sick, unless something bad was going to happen, or if Y/N was sick herself. They’re true, loyal and helpful companions to a witch and Y/N considered herself lucky to have found hers, as he helped her out more often than she wanted him to be, and she felt save with him.Of course, she still had to be walking on tiptoes, and be aware of her surroundings but at the same time, she couldn’t imagine anything bad coming towards her, as she lived so isolated from everyone else. How could anyone find her anyway?

A strong smell of coffee already filled her lungs when she stood in front of the dimly lit shop, with the big windows greeting her to come inside and the little sign dangling in front of her eyes on the door with the word ‘open’ written over it, made her push the door open. A tiny bell rang out when she stepped foot onto the dark, hardwood floor but no eyes turned to her, as everyone seemed so engrossed in their own world. Disappointment made itself clear when she walked to the barista, while she wondered how it’d feel to be greeted by anyone.

She hadn’t had any real human contact in over a decade, and slowly she started to feel an absence of intimacy, even if it was just a warm smile towards her or a quick ‘hello’, followed by her name. But she couldn’t really blame anyone but herself, as it was her decision to live the way she lives. Or maybe she could blame the universe for making her someone she didn’t want to be, in the first place. Then she’d have never been in this situation and probably left her golden years already behind, while slowly waiting for her turn to leave this earth. She wouldn’t have been a threat but an average human being with friends, pets, and maybe even with children, probably even grandchildren, of her own by now. Often Y/N found herself daydreaming about another world, where she was chosen to be a normal one, and wondered if she’d cause less pain to others. She shouldn’t think that, as many mortals wanted to be in her place, but she wished she was not a witch.

As her brain was showing her an alternative reality where she got everything she ever dreamed of, a painful smile appeared on her face. Isn’t it funny how someone can do anything beyond their imagination and yet feel like she wasn’t capable of doing anything? Y/N really wanted to blame the person out there, who cursed her to be where she was right now. She felt angry thinking about it, and if she were inexperienced she could leash out and do things she was going to regret but she knew herself better and was convinced that a cup of hot chocolate with tiny, pink and white marshmallows in it, would make her anger disappear. Sometimes life really can be that easy.

“What can I get you?” The blonde barista asked behind the counter, while she made sure to give Y/N a warm smile. By the familiar sound of a human voice, Y/N’s ears perked up, just like how Jupiters would. The little gesture was unintentional and she couldn’t stop, because after living with just a cat, her way around people drastically changed. The high voice echoed in her head on replay, as if she was listening to a song she’s heard before, leaving a nostalgic taste on her tongue.

For a moment too long Y/N stared into the barista's eyes before she snapped out of her head and back into reality; a place she wanted to be in so badly. “A chocolate, please. Hot chocolate, I mean.” Quickly, those words rolled off her tongue, as she made sure those were in the right order. Mentally cursing at herself for stuttering and already messing up. She didn’t forget how to speak over the years, but her constant fear of standing out in the crowd gave her anxiety. She just wanted to belong to the normal people, that’s why she repeated that sentence mentally a dozen times before she found the courage to say them out loud, hoping her volume was alright. She didn’t want to be the odd one, something people had always called her and it didn’t matter who said it, because everyone did. From human to witches, everyone. The barista nodded her head, while she turned around to prepare her drink. With studying eyes Y/N observed her every move. They seemed so coordinated and smooth, as if it wouldn’t make her any energy to make a drink and if she didn’t have to think twice about what she was doing. Y/N wanted to be like this; effortless. But that seemed impossible as she remembered how she had forgotten a part of her order, even though it’s always the same and she had practiced that sentence before. With an overly dramatic gasp, Y/N made the blue-eyed barista stop her movements. “And with marshmallows, please.” Slightly Y/N cringed when she heard her soft, whispery and highpitched voice, wondering if she tried too hard to be polite, as she always seemed to plea. Did everyone try to be polite, or was it just her? And by the look the barista gave her, Y/N knew she behaved differently from most people. Was it bad to be polite nowadays? 

“Sure.” She only responded as she poured two spoonfuls of tiny marshmallows for her before offering Y/N her drink. She gave the barista a small hint of a smile, paid the drink, and found herself a cozy place to sit in one of the darker corners. Maybe it was best if she didn’t talk, or at least that’s what her anxiety advised her to. 

Y/N placed her blue cup on the round table before she opened up her book. She decided diving into the world of her novel would be better than studying people as there weren’t so many in the shop to keep her entertained for a longer period of time. The little cafe was almost empty, besides for the two people working behind the counter, three teenage girls giggling together while staring at their phones, and an old man reading his paper. But Y/N had assumed that, as soon as she saw the dark clouds. Mortals seemed to hate the rain while Y/N didn’t mind getting wet if it meant she could drink her hot chocolate. So, apparently, Y/N valued different things in life.

Before she began reading, she glanced over at her drink, still seeing the hot steam coming from it. She guessed she still had to wait unless she wanted to burn her tongue but she wasn’t so keen on not being able to taste anything for a week. With her fingers, she brushed over the soft page, as she dived in a world, where she could be completely normal without having to fear messing anything up. Maybe that’s why she liked books so much, as the pages were already written and the fate set in stone, nothing she’d do would change the outcome and that gave her a sense of security that life couldn’t give her. Y/N knew every tiny little detail could change everything and that was terrifying if she dwelled too much on it. Carefully she read the words, selected by the author, when the world around her became even quieter as her focus shifted fully into her book but the tiny noises were still hearable, keeping her from drifting away too far from the actual world.

Her eyes were eagerly reading the scene where the hero confessed his feelings for the clueless girl. A scene she had been waiting for since she started reading it. Goosebumps erupted on her skin, even though she never reacted that way. But Y/N was too much into the book to care, else wise she’d be on the lookout for what caused such a reaction out of her. Mortals wouldn’t understand what a blessing and a curse her exaggerated senses were but most of the time Y/N was glad that hers were always on point, as they had saved her from countless situations that could’ve been harmful to her, or Jupiter. And those senses helped her prevent running into her kind.

At least, usually, they do.

When another round of chills ran down her back, she finally let go of her book and let her eyes wander through the small shop, as her initial flee instincts kicked in. But she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Carefully her hand closed the book shut, before her right hand went in to grab the mug, hoping the beverage would calm nerves. When the warm taste of melted chocolate spread on her tongue, the consistency reminded her of softly whipped cream. Usually, this would make her moan quietly in satisfaction, and immediately her tense body would lump into one of the dark, velvet cushions.

But this time her body didn’t relax and the odd feeling didn’t leave the pit of her stomach. What was going on?

In a very quick motion, she put the mug back on the table, before she grabbed her book harshly, as she got ready to get up. Y/N didn’t want to abandon her drink but she knew better to trust her gut than her roaring stomach. With coordinated moves, she quickly approached the door, didn’t even look around the store as the burning sensation became stronger, almost making her feel like being suffocated. Her head was low, and when she felt the material of the door, a sigh escaped her mouth. She really needed to get away from there. When she stepped outside a cold wind whipped her harshly across the face and before she could comprehend what was happening, she bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” The other person let out in a deep, raspy voice, signaling her that it was a man in front of her.

Quickly she nodded her head, at the same time readjusting her book in her hands. “Yes, I’m al–” Her breath got stuck in her throat when she looked into a pair of piercing green eyes. Electricity shot through her veins, although her blood ran cold. Her intuition was never wrong but could it be truly right, right now? 

But the energy the man radiated couldn’t be contained and denied. He had to be. And he seemed to have the same thoughts about her, as a wide grin decorated his pink lips. “Hello, comrade.” Her heart sank deeper as her brain was already looking for ways to escape this situation and roaming through the various spells she could cast right now without hesitation. How could she not take the signs seriously? She should’ve known when Jupiter got sick, that something was coming her way but she thought she knew better. How could she? The universe knows everything better, she doesn’t. The color on her face immediately left and her eyes shot wide open, frantically blinking to make sure the situation was actually real, and not a hallucination. “You don’t seem so excited. Did someone take your tongue?” His large hand tried to touch her arm but she flinched away, not amused by his choice of words. Of course, he was a witch. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have said that, knowing well that some spells, indeed, require an actual tongue and it was a saying for witches. Y/N knew all about them, as she used to cast those types of spells as well and had to take someone’s tongue, literally had to cut it out of someone’s mouth. Not her proudest moments, she had to admit, but she had done worse if she was being completely honest.

She shook her head. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Y/N hissed, unintentionally mimicking Jupiter again, as he would do with someone he wasn’t fond of.

As she stared with disbelief into the stranger's eyes, recognition didn’t flicker once. He was unknown to her and she truly wondered how he made his way to such a small town, as most witches didn’t come across her tiny home. Y/N couldn’t even remember when another one of her kind actually visited that place, as most of them decided to live in the city due to the always growing population. And Y/N fully understood why they did it. It was a much nicer and easier way of living, besides it wasn’t the 18th century anymore. Witches don’t have to fly on brooms and they most certainly don’t wear pointy hats. Most would even find it offending, as no witch ever wore a pointy hat, solitary for being one. Why would anyone do that anyway? They looked ridiculous, in her opinion and made witches have no fashion sense, which wasn’t right, as some of them were the biggest designers in this world and a lot more were dressed by them. 

“Is that a way to talk to an old friend?” Slowly he tugged at the hem of his black coat and wrapped himself tighter in it, as if he could feel Y/N’s cold stare on his skin, freezing him undeniably. Maybe it was wrong of her to have such a closed-off attitude but she wasn’t well with mortals, and even worse with witches. If it were up to her, she’d give up her powers, as she doomed for them to bring no joy but only misery into the already cruel world. Why make it worse, right?

Confused, she furrowed her eyebrows together. “We’re not friends. I don’t even know you.” Her tongue wet her lips when she clenched her eyes shut at his bright, knowing smile. Confused, Y/N took a few steps back, as she tried her hardest to understand him but she didn’t seem to be good at it. She had met many of her kind, even used to live in a town filled with them in her childhood. In her early adult life, she still kept in touch with them but that was a lifetime ago, at last, that’s what it felt like to her. Even if she knew him, was she supposed to remember every witch she had ever crossed paths with? He couldn’t expect her to, could he?

A laugh escaped his rosy lips. “I guess the potion really worked.” He shook his head as he lowered his gaze towards his shoes before he looked up again and put his balled fists into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.” Even though he finally revealed his name she couldn’t find any memories of him. He almost wanted to stretch his hand out to her, for her to shake it but decided against it and let it continue to rest inside the warmth fabric. He figured that she wouldn't be too fond of the gesture, amusing him even more. She’s still just how he had remembered her.

“What potion?” She urged with a raised eyebrow. What was he talking about?

“What potion?” He repeated her question dramatically as if she was supposed to know what he was talking about. “You should know that! This is stuff from junior year, Barky.”

Barky? Y/N furrowed her eyebrow together and closed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to concentrate and find out where she’s heard that nickname before. A nagging feeling crept upon her as if she had heard someone call her that before as if she was supposed to know where, when and who used to call her that. A frown overcame her shy features while she was trying her hardest to remember. With a lot of concentration, memories floated back from her college years and instantly her mouth turned sour, her facial expression bitter and lips sealed together in a tight line. Y/N was certain that she could never get that memory out of her head, as it left a burning mark on her. It was her most embarrassing story from college and if it wasn’t bad enough, it had to be her first real date too. She went out to get some lunch with Dylan, a senior with the softest golden locks she’s ever seen and the perfect smile with the tiny gap between his front teeth, undeniably making him even more charming. She was excited, beyond excited even that he had asked her out. A giddy feeling was consistent in her belly since the minute she woke up on that day, proofing how much she had looked forward to for this date. Y/N couldn’t even tell you when she started crushing on him because to her it felt like all her life she was into him, even though she didn’t know of his existence, as if a part of her knew she was going to meet him. That’s why she was so ecstatic when he had asked her out, even considered it a projection of someone upon her, as many witches were cruel enough to do so. But to her luck, it wasn’t. No one tried to mess with her, or at least not yet. She had gotten ready, even put on her most expensive cologne and her favorite, floral, puff sleeve dress. He had picked her up and everything went well, they were talking, laughing, and even their hands were touching, when Y/N started to bark out of nowhere. It was a sound that only a real dog could ever let out, and it sounded so foreign when she made that noise. Instantly her hand cupped her face, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her warm cheeks. No matter how hard she tried, words wouldn’t leave her mouth, just animalistic sounds, and whenever she tried to be quiet her lips wouldn’t seal. Now thinking back, she realized that someone was missing from that story, making her guess who put her in that situation. It felt like a foggy memory as if she had drunk too much alcohol and blacked out. But she knew she didn’t drink anything. She only remembered being called “Barky” for the rest of her college years, she just couldn’t remember who gave her that nickname.

“Did you–”

“–still don’t know? Let me remind you.” The stranger laughed loudly, almost as if he was mocking her. With those words, he took her hand and placed a purple stone inside. A mild pain increased slowly in her veins when her eyes closed shut. It almost felt like a cramp, everyone tends to get when they’ve been writing for too long, and Y/N knew why. He was feeding her information, memories that he once had erased, appeared before her very own eyes. With every second that passed, more and more she came to a conclusion who the green-eyed boy in front of her was but it didn’t leave her with a smile on her face. No, quite the opposite, as a foul expression decorated her features.

It was him.

When her brain finally registered him, she slapped his hands away immediately, her face scrunching up in disgust. How dare he visit her? How did he even find her? And why? He was the last person she would’ve ever thought of seeing in her life again, but here she was, looking at his amused face with those deep dimples.

“You.” She flared, pointing his finger at his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Her tone was aggressive and feisty, almost as if she had tried to spit fire, like a dragon, and the stranger knew that she could, making him back away slightly. Her demeanor chaged so quickly, that she wasn’t even sure how quiet she usually was.

Defensively, he put his hands up. “Calm down! I was just passing by.”

“Bullshit. You never do anything if it doesn’t benefit you, Styles.”

For a second Harry’s grin disappeared, before he sighed when the intensity of her gaze didn’t diminish. He felt defeated. “Alright.” Slowly he put his hands away. “I’m here for a reason. I need your help–”

“–and you think I would help you?” She shook her head harshly. “You wasted your time coming here. I don’t even know what you were thinking.” Y/N was fully admitting the truth, as she really didn’t understand how she could help him and for him to think that she would, was even more ridiculous. She tried her hardest not to sound bitter but failed miserably as her anger got the best of her. Not only was she furious at him for erasing her memory but also because of everything else he had done to destroy her college experience. For once in her life, she wanted to experience a normal life, and going to college, she thought, would help her to have one. She wasn’t really planning on walking into another witch but when she did run into Harry, she had always been nice to him. He just wasn’t decent enough to be respectful back. In front of mortals, he’d make sure to poke fun at her for the way she looked, acted, and even for her good grades. And when he was alone with her he’d make rats follow her around, let her be invisible, or make her bark on a first date with a mortal. She never understood why he did it, as she was always nice to him. But now, almost forty years later, she came to the conclusion that he was just an asshole, who loved to demolish someone's confidence. And the worst part was, that he was amazing at it. So, yeah, she doesn’t understand why he is standing in front of her with a pleading look.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for everything b–”

“I won’t help you.” She just let out dryly before she looked back at the little cafe. Y/N couldn’t believe how he had to ruin her perfect day and be the reason to waste an amazing cup of hot chocolate. Shaking her head at the universe for making her day so much worse, she started to walk away, hoping that Harry would leave her alone but of course, he didn’t. How could she expect anything else from him?

“Y/N!” He called out her name when he started to follow her around the narrow streets and the dark clouds above them, seconds away from pouring cold rain at them. “Please, you’re the only one who can break curses.”

She laughed loudly. “A curse? Why doesn’t it surprise me that someone would curse Harry Styles?” Her steps slowed down when a thunder erupted from above her but she never stopped walking away. “What have you done to piss someone off like that?”

“It was… a bad date.” He hesitated but Y/N didn’t seem to notice, as she continued to strut away from him, or at least she tried, as Harry seemed to be determined. He wasn‘t going to let her go that easily, much to her dismay.

“Funny how you don't need someone to ruin your date. You can do that all by yourself.” She said, clearly referring to the date he had ruined for her.

“I deserved that but I really need your help. My magic– I can’t use it anymore.” He was begging, something Harry usually never did and never thought of doing ever again. The last time he had begged, was years ago, when he was still a little boy, begging his mother to let him go play outside with the other mortal children when she strictly prohibited it. His lips were quivering, his eyes filled with tears, as he clasped his hands together, while he whined out a series of pleads that were never heard. As a child, he never understood why his mother wouldn’t let him go out, but as he got older, he understood why he wasn’t allowed to. Harry knew his mother never allowed him to, because she didn’t want people to be suspicious if something went wrong and she didn’t want anybody to get hurt, especially those fragile mortals. Meanwhile, Harry was glad, he never made human friends, as it would never go anywhere. They were aging, hurting, and even dying, while Harry aged much slower, was able to heal himself and even death wasn’t lasting. He saw them as baggage, nothing more and why would he purposefully carry something like that around, right?

“Not my problem, if you’re stupid enough to piss off a witch.” Y/N shook her head at him, as she couldn’t believe how dumb a person could be. He must have known that the witch was a powerful one, yet he dared to get close to her, knowing damn well that he wasn’t likable. Hell, Y/N couldn’t understand how so many girls were always walking after him in college. What did they see in a pretentious, stubborn, unfunny, and arrogant narcissist? She guessed it must have been solely his looks, that threw girls to him as mosquitoes did. whenever they saw a brightly shining lamp in the midst of the darkness. “You know not everyone can block off your source, or unbreak the curse.” That was indeed true, as most witches had their areas they were good at. Some liked to make potions, cast spells or break curses.

“That’s why I’m here. I need you.”

Her steps came to an almost immediate halt, before she turned to him on her heel, while her hair strands flew into her face, due to her fast movement. She eyed him up and down irritated before she raised her eyebrow in suspicion. “Your magic seems fine to me. I mean how else did you find me?” Her hands gestured towards his hands as if she was able to see him producing fire or any other magical thing. Y/N was convinced he wasn’t here for that and him losing his magic was just an act. And she wasn’t going to fall for it. She wasn’t going to fall for his childish tricks again.

Awkward about what he could answer her, he scratched his neck and turned his gaze to the floor for a brief moment before regaining his courage. “I searched for your location before this mess.” He said the truth, he did look for her location in beforehand and he knew he could’ve come up with a lie but if she still were the same person from their college days, she’d see through him. A laugh wanted to escape his throat as he thought back to those days when he was convinced of her putting a spell on him. How else was she supposed to know every time he lied? It was impossible for her not to use her magic because no one ever was as good at detecting his lies. And he remembered the day when he had confronted her about it. Another lie was told by him, resulting only in her furrowing her eyebrows, shaking her head, and firmly stating a simple “no”. It made his blood boil, and thinking back he was impressed by her, but he’d never admit it. Harry used to be angry at her. She couldn’t be serious, could she? She had to be right about him, every fucking time. That’s when he snapped, pushed her towards the nearest wall, and asked her through gritted teeth how she knew that. And what followed, shocked him. Not only did she not back down, or get intimidated by him but revealed how he acted whenever he lied. She confessed how she noticed him running his thumb over his mermaid tattoo whenever he lied, and how he wasn’t able to look into her eyes. She was so certain, and Harry would’ve loved to deny it, but he didn’t know better himself. Did he do that? Really? And even now he catches himself, doing exactly what she knew so many years ago. It was awfully confusing to him, how a stuck up, goody-two-shoes saw that, and nobody else did, even when they knew him longer and better.

“What? Why?” Curiosity was reflected in her eyes when she pulled her eyebrows together.

“I–”

“–you’re such a stalker, you know that? We haven’t seen each other in– like what– almost forty years and you still look for me?” She interrupted him before he even got the chance to lie and for a split second, he was relieved about that. She didn’t trust her gut feeling, because it always seemed to be so painfully correct. Wildly, she gestured with her arms, making Harry wonder what she was trying to say when to her it seemed so clear. She was gesturing towards her hometown, pointing at her surroundings, that she was familiar with, and not he. Why would he be interested in looking for her anyway? They never talked to each other, unless they were forced to and back then they weren’t friends. What reason could he possibly have to know her location? And if he said that he wanted to visit her due to him missing her, she’d laugh in his face, only stopping when she was close to suffocating. Never would he miss her, she’d rather believe the devil visiting her for a cup of tea.

“Forty years means nothing to us. We’re not human.” He sighed, dodging her question, as she was busy overthinking what just happened when she only wanted to visit her favorite cafe for a hot chocolate. Did the devil really hate her so much to put her in such misery? Wasn’t she allowed to forget about this arrogant witch, whose good looks all went to waste due to his obnoxious and unpleasant character? If she were powerful enough she’d block his magic source herself and he fully understood whoever did this to him. Harry probably deserved to lose whatever made him a witch, something he was so proud of being. He always bragged about his magic, bragged about how he was so much more powerful than those human beings, and used various spells to entertain a party crowd, to gain popularity. It gave him strength, knowing that he was above them, while Y/N hated it. Because whenever a witch came along, the story always ended with blood and tears and she was sick of being the cause of someone’s tears, let alone death. She wanted to be a mortal and would like to experience her magic source getting blocked. She’d feel like a mortal, just like he did no– wait, he was like a mortal right now, right?

“You’re like one right now, aren’t you?” An evil smirk plastered across her face, finally processing and understanding how helpless Harry was. But she didn’t feel pity, she was rather amused at his situation. It was even kind of poetic, considering how much he loved to be a witch. And now she could do anything to him, and he would fully be defeated by her with no chance of seeking revenge or defending himself. “I mean I could do anything to you and you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself, right?”

“Y/N.” He warned her, his voice stern and a frown overshadowing his charming features.

“Maybe you’d like to live like a mouse, or are you interested in losing your voice?” She turned around and began to walk away while thinking about what she might do to him. Excitement taking over her, making her voice rise a few octaves, her eyes sparkling and her fingers gripping her book harder. A part of her knew that she was just messing around with him but it didn’t stop her from imagining how great it would be, seeing him as a mouse or never having to hear his obnoxious voice again, that sounded too attractive for his asshole persona.

“Y/N, plea–”

“–no wait! How do you feel about being blind? I think that could be an amazing experience for you. Then you could focus more on your other sen–”

“–oh, for fucks sake! Don’t even think about it, unless you want to lose your familiar.” His voice sounded warning, almost daring her to continue with her schemes. When he saw her shocked expression, he slowly gained his usual cockiness again, knowing well that even without his powers, he still had the upper hand. Thank god, he never did anything without a plan.

A cold shiver ran down her spine and nervously her mouth popped open, as she tried to breathe steadily. “What did you just say?” She asked, not believing how quiet her voice had gotten and not understanding how he’d dare to do something like this to Jupiter, her cat, her familiar, for crying out loud. He knew what it meant if a familiar dies, yet he was willing to do that to her. How dare he?

“Is this how fast I can get you speechless, love?” He strapped his tongue, before grinning widely at her shocked expression.

“What the fuck did you do? What have you done to Jupiter?” She hissed when he pointed his finger towards her, to signal her to be quiet.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. It’s just a little bit of poison. I even have the antidote and I’m nice enough to give it to you. Only if you help me, that is.”

“You son of a bi–”

“–choose your next words wisely unless you want your cat to die.” She stayed quiet, biting on her lip harshly to let him finish talking. “That’s what I thought. So, are you interested in helping me out?”

“Fuck you.” Y/N insulted him, as she looked away, furiously crossing her arms over her chest. For a moment Harry only stared at her, waiting for an actual answer. But she didn’t find the right words to say, not even saying a “yes”, neither a “no”. He really got her trapped, didn’t he? Jupiter will die without an antidote and she was sure she could make one on her own, but she didn’t know what poison he had used on her. It would take her forever to cure her cat, might even take her too long.

He laughed at her silence as she was defeated and happily whistled in her face. “I’ll come around tomorrow evening. Be prepared.” With that he walked away elegantly, right before the heavy rain started pouring from the clouds, drenching Y/N as she watched him walk back into the cafe. Anger, annoyance, and worries clouded her mind, making it impossible for her to think straight. How was he able to put her in such a situation? What had he done to Jupiter? Will she be able to break his spell? Many questions ran through her head but no answers could be found. Even though she wasn’t able to form a proper sentence, she was determined to get the antidote, and then she was going to curse Harry into the pits of hell. Literally.

Y/N hated it, she hated it so much. Since she came back home yesterday, her clothes soaking wet from the rain, a headache haunting her ability to think properly, and with a wave of undeniable anger, she felt like vomiting, crying, and even punching the walls till she had splitters in her knuckles. How did this happen to her?

She barely had any contact with anyone, whether it was mortals or anyone of her kind.

She was always alone, isolated herself from the danger, and kept others safe by not walking around recklessly.

Y/N only used magic when it was absolutely necessary and even her familiar, Jupiter, started to get bored by her lack of action in life. She wasn’t necessarily happy with the way she lived, as she slowly fell into disrepair but she’d rather go nuts in her own home than risk people’s lives or having a witch, or a hunter, trying to kill her. Why was it so hard for the universe to understand that she only wanted a peaceful life? Wasn’t her world balanced enough? Did she really need this kind of drama? And from all the witches that could have come to her, it really had to be him? Harry fucking Styles, who used to be her personal bully for no goddamn reason in her younger, more naive years. It felt like a sick joke to her and an unfunny one at that. If it were up to her, she would’ve never seen his ass ever again after graduating from college, and she was good at hiding, considering how small the world is if you’ve such a long life. You never know who you might run into, and she was good at dodging unwanted guests for 40 years. No one ever visited her, she couldn’t even remember when someone actually came over and she liked that, as she loved to not have her private space invaded.

But here she is now, sitting next to an arrogant son of a bitch, who had a huge grin on his face while staring directly into her eyes. He truly loved holidng her gaze and she didn’t know what to think of it.

But one thing she knew for certaon; fuck the universe. It never brought her any good anyway.

“Nice place you’ve got.” He examined her living room thoroughly, as he was sitting on her yellow fabric couch. “A little… obsolete maybe.” His eyes wandered from her wooden ceiling to her dark, big windows to her gigantic bookshelf that took up an entire wall. He was fascinated seeing that she still reads so much. Harry remembered how he would sometimes see her in the library, nose deep buried in a book but he would’ve never guessed what an impressive collection she has at home. There were not only books for witches but also books for mortals that only served the purpose of entertainment. Harry used to read those too, especially Charles Bukowski, but lately, he found himself less interested in them. Maybe it was because he had other plans these days or that he learned a long time ago that those stories don’t even exist for mortals. So how could he ever live in such a fantasy?

His hand touched one of the many green plants in her house when she slapped his hands away before answering him. “It’s cozy, not obsolete!” She put the plant back to its place, patting the leave that he was just touching, making him chuckle. She was ridiculous to him. It was just a plant and not an animal or child he had offended and now needed some consulting. “Besides, don't touch anything.” Silently, she rolled her eyes at him, slowly rubbing her feet on the colorful rug underneath her, warming them as the white socks didn’t seem to do much. No matter what someone said about her place, she loved it. It was small, cozy and she had a big garden with various vegetables, fruits, and flowers and a small pond, where ducks would find their way in, so Y/N could feed them with her daily, freshly baked bread. She truly loved the way she lived, but she also had to admit that it got cold very quickly once the temperatures start dropping, and if she were completely honest, it could get lonely, as well.

“How many books do you have?” He asked, nodding towards the shelf with his head. “Must be a million.” Harry exaggerated, as he opened up his arms widely with a goofy smile, knowing it would annoy her. His dazzling green eyes were watching her intensely, as he tried to point out differences from when he had met her for the first time. She still looked the same, given to their slow aging, but even the way she walked, talked, or presented herself seemed to be so awfully similar. But she seemed closed off, as if she built up thick walls around her, not letting anyone peek inside. He remembered how back then, she was a bubbly, lively, and friendly girl, who seemed so excited to learn anything about the world, whether it was the supernatural or the human one. She never kept anything to herself, as she was always talking about her day or plans and sometimes it really annoyed him. He just didn’t understand how someone can be so happy to be alive and have this much energy inside of them? While he was still unsure about how she managed to be so overjoyed, he was more concerned about what had happened to her, which made her change so drastically. Who could change someone so much? And as bad he tried to suppress thoughts, he wondered if it was his influence, or has she changed much later after meeting him?

“No wonder why you failed math twice. That’s not even near a million.” She rolled her eyes at him, at his overly annoying attitude that he always made sure to show. Something about him made her so angry, that she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep the degrading names to herself. She needed the antidote and when she saw Jupiter, his frustrating face suddenly wasn’t enough to make her mad anymore, or at least till he opened his mouth again.

“I was joking, darling.”

“I wasn’t.” She dryly replied and dared to stare at him longer than she had intended. Y/N couldn’t believe how he still was the same person after 4p years. He should’ve matured a bit or learned how to read the room and know his place but he never did, apparently. Or she has never changed and he still knew exactly how to make her erupt like a volcano.

Awkwardly, he touched his neck, blowing the hot air inside his lungs out, while he nervously looked around her house, when he felt the intensity of her glare on him. Back then, she would’ve walked away and ignored him without giving him a dirty look. She truly wasn’t how she used to be and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. “Alright, maybe we should start working?” It surprised him seeing her be so rude back when she used to talk with professors after class and never interrupt them, even if she really had to be somewhere else. Y/N would patiently listen, as she hated to make people feel uncomfortable. That’s why Harry raised his eyebrows up his forehead, forming lines on his forehead. She was clearly not in the mood to catch up, neither did she like his jokes, so he might as well do what he needed her for. He needed her to break the curse, for now, even if she wasn’t too thrilled to see him

“Sure. The sooner we’re done, the faster you can leave.” Her voice had grown so cold, not the way how she used to hum every single one of her words, as if she was a bird singing in the early morning hours while basking in the golden sun rays. But it didn’t stop him from trying to amuse her. Who knows how many hours they’d be forced to spend together, so they might as well try to somewhat get along, right? Maybe even give it a shot to reminisce about their old, shared days.

“Leave? I thought about sticking around for a while. It’s quite a nice town, with very interesting people.” When the word “interesting” had left his mouth, he winked at her, making her blood boil stronger and roll her eyes back harder, wishing they’d get stuck, so she wasn’t forced to look into his enormous grin, knowing that’s all it takes for him to piss her off. “Maybe I could get a house next to yours? Just a little bit more modern, to throw parties and stuff.” Even though Harry didn’t like parties too much, or at least not as much as he used to, he knew that she hated them. Even back in college she hardly ever went to one, just once, for unknown reasons to him, she decided to turn up for a frat party one of his friends had hosted on a warm summer night. He remembered it clearly, even remembered the way she looked, what she wore and if he concentrated hard enough he was able to smell her hypnotizingly sweet scent that she was wearing that day. His heart painfully started beating faster in his ribcage while he thought about everything that had happened that night and wondered how everything turned so sour afterward. It was a shame.

Y/N snorted. “Do that and I’ll shove a frog down your throat.” She was being completely serious, considering the harsh tone of her voice and the cold stare she gave him. How was he so good at getting under her skin? And it was worse knowing that she wanted so badly to brush the perfect curl away from his handsome face, so she could have a better look at him. No matter how he had treated her in the past, she had to admit that his looks could charm anyone. Well, almost. She wasn’t going to get fooled by him again and the way his smile and those sparkly eyes seemed to weaken her knees. But she guessed that her reaction was expected. After all, she was just a witch with feelings and desires and he was a handsome man, who would’ve been perfect to live out a fantasy of hers if he could keep his mouth shut for once.

“I’d like to see you try, Barky.” He laughed.

“Stop calling me that!”

“Or what?” Harry said that in the most playful way he could, intensifying his stare as his smile turned into a shitfaced and lopsided grin. But Y/N had not seen this as playful.

Y/N folded her arms in front of her chest and snorted loudly with her tongue. “Are you threatening me? Because if so, you can kiss your magic goodbye.” A burning sensation brewed inside her when he was still grinning, not even an ounce of remorse flickering in his green orbs.

Harry bitched with his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, because he knew exactly that he had the upper hand. “And you can kiss your Julius– Juniper, or something– goodbye.” While he was trying to remember the name of her precious cat, she frowned deeper, forming multiple wrinkle lines on her forehead. What was going to happen to her precious familiar if Y/N wouldn’t help him? She’d have to watch Jupiter suffer and eventually die because she wouldn’t find an antidote in time. Only Harry could provide her with that and no matter how naive and dense Y/N looked, she wasn’t and she understood the situation well.

“Jupiter, you asshole. His name’s Jupiter.” She spits as if venom was dancing on her tongue and for a minute she wished it was to be something poisonous. Maybe she was being a little bit dramatic, knowing that she could easily drink one of her toxicants, whenever she wanted the death to knock on her door, so she could leave Harry startled and shocked. But would Harry be surprised when he knew that every witch tended to be dramatic and stubborn? “Why would you do that? What have you done to him? He’s been sick for days now!”

“Not telling yet.”

“Why not? You’re already here and I’m trying to help you!” Furiously she pointed at the many books laying in front of them, that were kept wide open. “What else would you need?”

He laughed a humorless laugh and shook her head as if she was a small child who did not understand the most understandable things in the world. “Because once I give you the antidote, I won’t have the upper hand and I don’t really trust you.” He explained in a monotone voice.

She sighed. “The feeling’s mutual.” Y/N bit her tongue and rolled her eyes. She truly didn’t trust him, for a good reason, as her distrust and dislike were established during their shared college years.

“Well, I–“

“–can we just get started, please? I wasn’t keeping in touch with you for a reason and this here” She pointed her finger between the two. “is something I never wanted to happen and I was glad it didn’t in the past 40 years.” Surprised, Y/N flinched at her own words, as she realized how harsh she sounded. Even though she was being sincere, she wondered if she was taking it too far? Was she being petty? After all, he never physically hurt her, he just loved to poke fun at her when they were a little bit younger and still does, as it amused him seeing her so furious.

But the longer he watched her move around her, the more he understood how far she dislikes actually went and if he didn’t know her better, he’d say that she hated him. Harry couldn’t deny it but he actually felt offended and tried hard not to scoff. What has he ever done to her for her to hate him like that? Maybe he was being mean sometimes or liked to poke fun at her but was he really that bad?

Hesitantly he simply nodded his head when he tried to remember their college years. His heartbeat quickened when he thought back to that one night however he fast to lock his thoughts away. She wasn’t thinking of the incident 40 years ago and it probably still doesn’t have any effect on her now. It still didn’t change the fact that she had hurt him, not for her lack of response, but how she led him on.

“Here are my books, read your way through and let me know if you find anything interesting.” She tossed a couple of more books towards him, purposefully hitting the couch next to him before she turned her back towards him and started to make herself comfortable on her rug.

“You can sit on the couch. I’ll go sit on the floor.” Harry felt stupid saying that, because there was clearly enough space for her to sit, yet she chose to take a seat on the cold and uncomfortable-looking floor that was decorated with the ugliest rug Harry had ever seen. He didn’t like the plattern, nor the obnoxious colors, as they didn’t seem to mash well together. 

He wouldn’t mind her sitting next to him but if she did, he wasn’t going to force her, that’s why he chose to watch her be so cramped on her colorful carpet.

She didn’t look up but shook her head before fully burying her face into one of her books and shielding her face completely from Harry.

He sighed, rubbed at his temples, and tried to read the many pages of the book that was laying on his lap but he couldn’t concentrate with the thick tension lingering in the air. He swears he could cut it with a knife, or at least that’s how it felt to him and if he had to guess; she probably didn’t feel better.

Harry stared at her while she was engulfed in her book, wondering if he could ease the situation. Y/N looked so peaceful, not the rude person she has become but her younger and innocent self. Somehow it eased her knowing that she had lowered the book again. “Do you remember college?” The words already bubbled out of his mouth with no time for him to react.

She rolled her eyes but never let go of her book. “Is our history going to help your dilem–“

“–no. But do you remember? Because I do.” He urged, putting the book on the small coffee table.

Y/N wanted to ignore him but somehow she was intrigued to know what he was going to say. “No, do you?”

For a second, insecurity flickered its way through his brain. Did she actually not remember or was she messing with him? His intuition always knew best that’s why he guessed she knew, even if his brain tried to tell him otherwise. She had to, or at least that’s what he told himself because he didn’t want to be the only still thinking about them. “Yeah, I do. At least most of it.”

“Really? Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and mirrored his movements by putting her book away as well and crossed her legs like a pretzel to be more comfortable.

“I remembered you spilling your coffee on my journal.” He remembered the day so clearly. They were at the nearest coffee shop, the hot spot for the caffeine-addicted young adults with a lack of sleep, when space was crowded and loud and nobody seemed to spend any more than a few minutes, except for them. Most people didn’t use the shop to study, at least not during the rush hours but somehow the two witches did and ended up having to share the booth, where the WiFi connection was the best. Harry was writing his notes into his little journal while Y/N furiously tapped with her pen against her computer, trying her hardest to find the answer to one of her math problems. She was stressed and Harry could see that clearly by the crease between her brows, the way she pursed her lips, and bounced her left leg up and down quickly. Whenever she’d look up he’d try to look away and it seemed she didn’t catch him staring at her. He had to admit, he always found her quite beautiful, it was hard not to. She had pretty hair, that he wanted to comb through with his hand, a unique nose that fitted her face perfectly, and those mesmerizing eyes that he could get lost in. Something about her seemed so magical and now thinking back, he had to laugh. It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? He slowly put himself back into reality, catching her embarrassed face in front of her and when she tried to defend herself, he put his hand up to silence her. “I didn’t mind it.” And he really didn’t. Harry guessed that she was already having a really bad day and excitedly knocked her drink on his journal when she just wanted to put her pen back into her purple pencil case. When Harry saw that she wanted to leave, disappointment overcame him as he hadn’t found the guts to talk to her, after the hour or so they’d spent sitting silently next to each other. So in a way, he was glad she was that clumsy because it gave them a reason to talk to each other. And they did, much longer than both of them would’ve expected since they were strangers.

“Or I remember how you bought me something for my birthday.” This had happened a couple of weeks later when he was having a bad day. His alarm didn’t set off, making him oversleep and miss his first period when he needed the attendance so badly to pass the class. He still tried to get ready but found the guy from last night, still sleeping in his bed. He didn’t mind them staying over but he just wasn’t used to that, as most of them would rush out the room while he was still resting, and to his nonexistent luck, he woke up when Harry was trying to brush his teeth with the tiny amount that was left in his tube. He had to go grocery shopping again. Harry remembered that day so clearly, as big snowflakes fell from the sky, blinding him, the minute he stepped out of his place. Frustrated he had kicked a bin outside when he saw Y/N approach. From the corner of his eye, he fought a glimpse of her red scarf, that practically was covering her face, as the flushed cheeks indicated that she was freezing.

She shrugged her shoulders, trying to play coy. “Everybody would’ve done that.”

“My friends didn’t.” Harry rolled his eyes when he thought of the jerks he used to be friends with and slightly wondered what they were doing now, as they had gotten close to their retirement now. He wondered if they already had grandchildren and if they still had the same childish attitude as they used to forty years ago. They were the reason why Y/N left Harry’s place upset that day. After giving him a ring that she had found in the thrift store, thinking that Harry would like it and fire a minute she could’ve sworn he liked it but the second his friends approached, he had put the ring in his pocket and shushed her away.

Y/N laughed bitterly when she looked at her lap, where both of her hands were placed. “You didn’t like my present anyways.” Her thumbs were quietly battling each other when Harry swallowed a big clump down his throat. He knew what Y/N was referring to and he felt so guilty about it.

Harry shook his head. “No! No, I did it’s just–”

“–I wasn’t popular enough.” She looked him in the eye again, hoping she’d find a tiny piece of him looking at her as if she was crazy, and that it wasn’t his reason to never wear the ring in public. But he didn’t. He looked more guilty than ever and it didn’t make Y/N feel better. When he tried to speak, Y/N cut him off quickly, as she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Enough was said and done anyway. “Don’t worry I get. How could we ever be friends, right? I’m just boring old Y/N, nothing special or someone to remember.”

He shook his head harshly. “But I do.” Slightly Harry hesitated before he continued talking, as he wasn’t sure how she’d react. “I remember our night together, as well. Actually, that must be my favorite memory of ours.” He confessed, biting his lip from talking too much about it. It was embarrassing for him to admit it, but he remembered it so clearly that it could’ve happened just a few hours ago. How he wished it had happened just a few hours ago, giving him the time to make it right this time around.

But he couldn’t, so all he was able to do was reminisce the memory.

It was an average night, another frat party hosted by one of his friends. People getting drunk. Some making out and others dancing the night away, when he had seen her. His mouth flew open, not because of the way she looked but because she was at a party, which he had never seen her before. That’s why he didn’t think twice before he tasted up to her, to make sure she was alright and wasn’t just lost. When she reassured him that she was alright, a tingly feeling didn’t leave his body and he wondered if she was there because of him. And what happened afterward made him think that she was, as kisses were shared and their hands were busy with exploring each other’s bodies, finding the sweet spots that would make each other weak. He never knew lips could taste so sweet, making him so addicted to her taste and even after they were done, he later in bed next to her, holding her close to his chest and admiring her beauty. She felt so unreal and he couldn’t believe what had just happened, as she always seemed like the shy girl who would never make a move but Harry was glad she did because he felt too insecure to do it also.

But now he wondered if the night was truly a good idea when he saw her shocked expression. How did they end up here?

“Of course you do! You only have a one-track mind! But I do not and I remember you ruining my first date, I remember you making me trip over my own feet and falling onto my face in front of everyone and I also remember you being an asshole and making fun of me for everything I’ve done with your friends! You made me an outcast, more than I already felt that I was.” Her voice was a lot louder than before and a vein popped up on her neck, indicating the anger inside of her. Furiously she waved her arms around, as he watched her in shock. Why did he mention that? It was already embarrassing enough for her to know that she only went there for him. “You know what? Leave. I’ll find something on my own and I’ll let you know once I do.”

“Y/N–“

“–leave, before I make you.” Her voice was stern, and she coldly watched him leave with an apologetic look in his eyes but she didn’t care. How dare he bring that night up when he was the one denying ever sleeping with her in front of everyone and made her feel as if she was being used? Whatever, or however, it led to them clinging to each other’s bodies breathlessly, Y/N knew it wasn’t going to happen again.

Guilt. That’s all Y/N felt in that moment, as guilt seemed to eat her up from the inside while she was caressing a sick Jupiter. His head was laid on her couch, while his shortness of breath took even more of his energy away. He hardly made any noises or moved around the house or the garden, worrying Y/N more.

That’s why she, partly, felt guilty. Maybe she shouldn’t have let her anger take the upper hand and just worked this out with Harry. Maybe then Jupiter would be better now.

The other part wondered why she had been so rude to him. After all, she was used to him poking fun at her but she didn’t think he’d bring up that night. It was a one-time thing, even Harry said so the day after and Y/N learned to accept it along the way. If it never was anything eventful to him, then how dare he say that he remembered the night the best?

“How are you doing, baby?” Y/N shushed when he buried his face deeper into the soft surface, while her fingers massaged small circles into the back of his head. Usually, he would have responded to her by melting into her touch or perking his ears by, solely because of her voice. But right now he didn’t even move, only letting the pressure of her hand soothe him. “Not great?” She asked, hoping for a clear answer to an obvious question. When he didn’t reply either, her heart sank deeper into the pits of her stomach.

She can’t lose him. Not only was he her little helper, but also the only companion she had.

That’s why Harry appeared a little while later at her front doorstep, with his usual grin but if she didn’t know any better she’d say she found guilt in his eyes. Even if it was just the tiniest bit.

“Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?” He asked, trying to mask his urge to apologize away. The way she seemed so stressed, made him feel guilty. Because after all, it was his fault. It was his doing. If it wasn’t for him, she would’ve lived her life the way she’d before with no disturbance and she wouldn’t constantly form those worry wrinkles on her forehead.

She scoffed. “I did it for forty years before you showed up on my doorsteps.” Dangerously she pointed her finger at his chest and then at herself, before sliding the door wider open, so he could walk in. With big footsteps, he strutted his way back inside her cozy living room, which seemed to be a lot warmer than it had been the last time, as the fireplace seemed to be lit and the fresh smell of cinnamon lingered in the air.

“That’s true.” He hesitantly agreed with her as he watched her walk into her little kitchen, where the door was wide open, revealing a tea kettle on the stove. Harry guessed that’s where the cinnamon scent came from. His eyes lingered on her, as he watched her carefully filling up two cups. With her hands, she pushed her silky hair behind her ears, as the ponytail couldn’t keep every strand from her face. He wondered why she called him again when the past days he has been doubting ever hearing from her again. But the answer was as clear as day, when he saw the sick cat laying on the couch, crouched into a ball, with no intention of moving. Now he felt guilty when he saw the innocent animal suffering from his consequences. His cold rings made a sound when they came in contact, as he formed a fist, to keep his emotions at bay. He has become cruel, hasn’t he? But he already knew that when he didn’t flinch when it came to killing other witches. It’s almost scary to think how easy it was to take someone’s life and that he had taken multiple. Would she ever believe him, if he’d confess that to her or would Y/N think that he was bluffing? Either way, Harry knew that he had done those cruel crimes and a part of him will never forgive himself, even though he didn’t do it because of an unsaturated bloodlust but because he needed their powers to complete a spell. A spell, that would bring justice to people who didn’t deserve to die yet. A bit hypocritical, isn’t it? He wanted to bring people back while he killed others. How could he ever judge whose life is more worth than the other? Yet, he did it.

To soothe his throbbing headache, that always formed whenever he overthinks too much, he tried to rub the kitty's ears, hoping to get a reaction from him. But he didn’t do anything, besides breathing, and he was shocked when he didn’t even fight him back. He was that powerless and Harry had to swallow a big lump down his throat. Jupiter needed the antidote. Fast.

No wonder why Y/N hated him. If she’d done something like this to his familiar, Millie, a beautiful bat, he would’ve gone crazy. She was his companion, the one that occasionally saved his ass from getting hurt. So maybe he deserved to feel guilty for putting Y/N and her cat through that, but Y/N wasn’t even aware of his feelings when he was so good at masking them away. Especially now when she saw Harry touching Jupiter, while she brought both of them a cup of tea. Instantly she tensed up, alarmed if he tried to do something worse to him because at this point she couldn’t read his intentions. Or ever, if Y/N was being honest.

She was ready to throw the burning hot tea at Harry if she had to and she wasn’t going to hesitate. He wouldn’t get away with worsening Jupiter’s state, as Y/N constantly feared how much longer he had till his breathing would stop.

But to his luck, he didn’t harm the cat, instead, he softly caressed the white fur and slowly rubbed smooth circles onto his skin.

Usually, Y/N would be in awe, staring at such an adorable interaction but her mouth turned sour when she saw his satisfied face. It bothered her how he looked so careless while doing so. Doesn’t he feel any empathy for the sick cat? Does he think that that'll make everything better?

“Don’t touch him.” Y/N only let him know, catching him off guard as he didn’t hear her approaching him. He pulled his hand away from him, dividing his attention to her, as she put the white cup on the coffee table. A tiny drop fell from the porcelain and landed right on her black jeans but she didn’t seem to notice when she took a seat opposite of Harry, creating some distance. Not as much as she did previously but enough for bystanders to see her obvious dislike towards him. “He’s feeling bad enough.”

“I wasn’t try–”

“–wasn’t trying to what? Kill him this time around?” She scoffed, as she rolled her eyes at him. There was no excuse for why he did what he did because if Jupiter would die, it would leave Y/N completely alone, with no little helper or her magical companion. Of course, there had been witches who had lost their familiars, and most of them came out just fine but it’ll take time to get over such a heavy loss and it’ll take a while to fix the toll that it took on their magic. Besides, Y/N would be completely alone. She wasn’t surrounded by family or friends, she was already lonely but without him, she’d simply run wild. To talk to no one seemed like such a bad nightmare and she couldn’t imagine being left alone with her thoughts all the time.

Harry sighed, when he rubbed his sweaty hands on his brown, baggy pants, trying so hard to find the right words and he immediately came up with good excuses, threats and even lies but when he looked into her eyes, they had gone down the drain. Something about her made his heartbeat pick up on speed, and somehow he felt nervous. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time and it scared it but he wasn’t really shocked. He had feared when he came to her that she’d still have the same effect on him as she did back in their college years and he hated it.

It had been 40 years, and he still couldn’t deny the warmth that grasped him when he caught a glimpse of her. What was wrong with him? After all, no one ever left behind such a lasting image but somehow, the once shy girl he had gotten to know for three years, did.

“I know this may not mean a lot to you but I promise” He stopped to grasp her hand. His movements were too fast for Y/N to see them coming, catching her clearly off guard which contributed to him clutching her hand tightly, just for a second. “I promise, I won’t let him die.” For a moment she considered looking away from him, ignoring him or even making her disappear but the earnestness in his voice changed her mind and she forced herself to look into his green eyes. The usual harshness or playfulness was nowhere to be seen, he looked rather soft, rather vulnerable, she may even dare to say so.

Slowly she nodded, steadying her breath as her mind was trying to catch up on everything that had happened. After 40 years the guy, whom she was madly in love with in college, comes back. But he had also rejected her and poisoned her familiar on purpose to get her help him.

This sounded like a cheap, Halloween episode of a telenovela and somehow her head started hurting when she thought of it like that. Her life was truly crazy and she couldn’t stop herself from blaming him for bringing her all the crazy.

Harry still held her hands tightly, their legs were touching each other, due to his scooting closer to her and when he saw her open her mouth, he hoped he’d forgive her, as foolish as it may sound. “Over there.” Was all she said breathlessly, even a little bit irritated.

He furrowed his eyebrows confused. “What?”

“The books are over there.” She let go of his hand, awkwardly coughing to mask her embarrassment away and point towards her bookshelf.

Of course she wasn’t going to forgive him, but he couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure if he was going to forgive himself, after everything but why would it matter? His souls belonged in hell from the start. He’d burn nevertheless when his time comes. “I know.” He laughed. “I can see them.” His intense stare made her feel exposed and the smell of his cologne gave her a dejavu, so she stood up quickly to run towards her shelf. He still smelled the same, she noticed and she wondered if he still used the same cologne or if it was just the way he usually smelled. Either way it felt too intimate for her own liking.

“No, I’d been searching on my own and I think we can narrow your problem down to those books. They’re our best shot at finding a way to lift the curse. I think.” She really hoped she was right, not only for Jupiter’s sake but also because of her own. She pointed her fingers towards a section of books and when Harry stepped closer his eyes widened.

“Don’t you think I need more enhanced books?” He scoffed, crossing his arms in front of her chest. Was she being serious when she picked those? Most witches used those for practice, for jokes to mess with others, not to lift curses. It couldn’t be so easy, could it?

She shrugged her shoulders, when she picked one up and walked towards her couch again. “I don’t think so. You said, she used a rune, right?” Reluctantly he nodded. “Then it wasn’t a strong spell, rather something quick that can be broken easier than cursing rituals. If she meant for you to never use magic again, then she would’ve done something else.” Y/N argued, while he did not try to get the last word by correcting her. She most likely wanted to harm him, she just didn’t have the time. After all, she was dying but Y/N didn’t need to know that. “Besides how stubborn does she have to be over a bad date, right?”

A small laugh escaped Harry’s plush lips at her statement. “We witches are very stubborn. It’s in our nature, I suppose.” Y/N truly had no idea what Harry was capable of and that relieved him because he’d rather be a bully than a murderer, even if he had his reasons. She wouldn’t understand him and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t understand himself either if he could think rationally.

“I guess so.” Y/N murmured when she felt attacked, even though he didn’t talk in a teasing manner, nor was he looking judgmentally at her. Yet she wondered if he was referring to their incidents and how she still held a grudge over him. Was she taking it too far? She lowered her gaze, when Harry’s grin dropped.

“Di–”

“–we should get started!” And with those words she opened the one in her hand quickly before she started reading, or at least she was good at pretending to read.

Harry sighed, when she didn’t look up anymore and confusion rushed over his body. He only saw her tensing up and her eyes opening widely, signaling that she was uncomfortable. Did he say something wrong? He really wanted to find out what just happened and what he had missed but he knew he wouldn’t find any answers, knowing how confusing she was. He didn’t even get answers from over 40 years ago and he wasn’t going to get any now. That’s why he dropped the topic, grabbed a book and made himself comfortable, in hopes to find the solution to his dilemma.

As he was trying to read, he heard the cat breathing harshly that somehow matched Y/N’s and for some time, she enjoyed his company, just the way she enjoyed the company of strangers in a cafe, whenever she was there to read.d It made the words roll off her tongue so much easier. For a moment too long he let his gaze linger, softening whenever a crease would form between her eyebrows, as she started to overthink, since she didn’t know why he was looking at her. Did he think she was weird, or even odd? In college everyone used to refer to her as the weird misfit. But little did she know, that Harry never saw her in that way and many others didn’t either. 

Though she knew what he was here for and what else he still had to get, something inside of him started twisting, letting his tummy do backflips. Somehow he remembered their old days together and he wondered if she still liked her fruit to be cut in little squares and if she still thought that Charles Dickens books were all too dense and dry, or if she had changed her mind. There was so much he didn’t know bout her that once came to him so naturally and even though he never tried to reach out to her, he felt guilt for everything that went wrong. Sometimes he wondered if anything would be different now if he had spoken up and never listened to his friends. He wished he had enough time to find a way to turn back time and make everything right and he could only hope that Y/N would do the same, if she had the chance to. But he figured it wasn’t of any importance as he had something else planned for her future already.

“Why are you staring at me?” She suddenly asked, breaking the silence. “I can’t read like that.” Her voice was calm with a tiny bit of annoyance. After all, she was helping him and he can be decent enough to try to participate.

Harry nodded his head. “Yes. Of course. Sorry.” And bit on his tongue to not let any more words come out. If she wanted to say something, she would, right?

While Y/N’s fingers were going from page to page, the only thing motivating her to keep going was Jupiter. She had to find a solution and she felt a tingly sensation inside of her, whenever she came closer.

Both witches worked in silence, while Y/N occasionally sipped on her tea and Harry just left it on the coffee table, completely forgetting about it, once he concentrated on the letters in front of him. The two were stubborn enough to keep going and quickly the sun was ready to disappear, when a loud thud chimed through her living room. Frightened, Y/N held her hand to her chest as she felt her heart racing and Harry looked around, to locate where the sound came from. But he quickly realised that it must have come from the front door, when Y/N’s eyes fixated on it. “Should I look?” He asked, unsure if she wanted him to do anything and usually he wouldn’t ask but just do it, as it was usually in his nature to protect those around him. A trait his mother always valued for her children to have, as she never wanted them to use their powers to harm. If Harry was honest, he wasn’t sure if he should still call himself that when lately he had only done harm to others.

Y/N shook her head. “I can do it.” She declined his offer because she was always the first one to say that she doesn’t need a man. Especially because she was a witch, a good one at that. Besides, she was the only one with working magic. If anyone could protect them, then it was her. With steady steps, she walked towards the front door until she could grab the cold doorknob. Slowly she steadied her breath and prepared herself to fight, just in case if she had to before twisting the metal.

It could’ve been adventurous people who liked to explore the woods, or maybe even her neighbours. She hadn’t seen them in a very long time, neither do they live close to her but it was a possibility, or maybe another witch felt her presence and wanted to drop by. She wouldn’t think that it was possible but if Harry had found her, then she really had to work on her protection spell and make the barrier harder.

But what she came face to wasn’t something he had expected. At first she stared into the dark woods, no one around until she looked down. For a moment she was scared, ready to slam the door shut but when her brain started processing, realisation hit her.

“Millie?” Harry asked from behind her, gently pushing Y/N away from the door to get a better look at the bruised bat. “Are you alright, love?” He crouched down, softly nudging his familiar with his nail polished fingers before taking her into his big hand.

“Millie.” She repeated shallowy, not trying to catch Harry’s attention as more and more memories came to her. “Millie.” She said again but this time with more strength behind her voice and more confidence. “She… she’s your familiar, right?”

Harry nodded, still looking at the tiny bat. “Yeah.” Carefully he rubbed her head, while he looked for any injuries on her wings, her most fragile body part. “How would you know?” He asked, still not looking up.

Y/N hesitated. How did she know his familiar? She had to stiffen her laughter when she remembered Millie always waiting in front of the school building when Harry had classes. Millie would never leave his side, even when he wasn’t sure of her presence. Back then Y/N still hadn’t found her Jupiter, and all she longed for was such a strong, loyal and beautiful companion and at times she’d catch herself feeling jealous when she saw Harry interacting with the bat. “She always waited for you outside the buildings.” Y/N finally answered when Harry was done inspecting the animal and grazed over to her.

“She did?”

Y/N nodded quickly. “Every time. She likes grasshoppers, right?” If Harry wasn’t confused before, he most definitely was confused right now. She knew what Millie liked? His eyes were following the smaller witch rum through her cabinets, until she found what she was looking for. A big jar filled with –Harry suspected them to be grasshoppers– came into his sight. “Would she like some?” She asked Harry, who still stood there perplexed, but Millie wasn’t and started flying around the jar and Y/N. For a brief moment he saw Y/N smiling, and immediately a comfortable warmth captured him. Even if he didn’t want to admit that, he had missed seeing her smile and her eyes crinkle when she did that. “Alright, girl. Take as many as you want.” With that she opened the jar, putting it on the coffee table for Millie to reach easily whenever she wanted.

“When did you meet her?” Harry asked, when he kept his gaze towards his feeding familiar. Even if Harry trusted Y/N, he wasn’t sure if she’d poison Millie. After all, he couldn’t and wouldn’t blame her if she did, after everything her little cat has to go through because of his selfish reasons.

She shrugged her shoulder, with tilted lips while she was watching Millie as well. “I think I met her on the day when I made the bird poop on y–”

“–I knew that was you!”

Y/N laughed, nodding her head. “Pretty sure she was following me around because of the grasshoppers in my bag.”

“I should’ve known.” Harry shook his head, when an almost invisible smile grazed his lips. He should’ve known that something was up, when the bird seemed to follow him around the whole day and embarrassed him at the most inconvenient moments. Of course, he has suspected Y/N but she was so damn good at lying, or he believed her too quickly.

“I don’t know how you didn’t. It was a pretty basic spell.” She shrugged, giving him an almost judging look.

He rolled his eyes. “Not as basic as you having a white cat. Were black cats out of stock?” A mocking tone in his voice made Y/N glare at him.

“Funny.” She laughed sarcastically, when she grabbed the book again, signaling Harry that she was done with the conversation. “And what are you? Wannabe-Batman?” Even though Y/N scoffed rudely, Harry bit into his bottom lip to keep his smile hidden. It was just so damn easy to piss her off.

“Batman doesn’t even have a bat as a pet. He’s scared of them.”

“Whatever smartass, just grab a book.” She rolled her eyes behind the book while she started reading the paragraph where she had stopped. Slowly, but surely Y/N was getting closer to an answer. She only needed to find a spell, a rune or maybe just a potion to make to break the rune and free his magic channel. Since Harry and her were natural witches, born with the powers of a witch, it was harder to detect where their magic came from. So she guessed it would be easier to look for a way to break the spell, instead of reopening his source. If he were a borrower, they would have hat to detect the demon who gave him the magic in exchange for his soul, which might have been a tricky way as demons loved to twist and turn everything they say to their liking and after not being in contact with one of those black eyed spirits, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to detect their shenanigans. Slowly she peeked over her book to see Harry deeply focused on his own and Jupiter still laying in the same position. The only difference was that Millie was gone and the sun seemed to be completely swallowed by the darkness. With one swift snap she turned every light on, catching Harry off guard. She guessed, he wasn’t expecting that.

“Have you found something?” He asked, when she got up, to look through her drawers again, not giving him an answer. So he tried again. “Do you know what to do?”

She only hummed, frustrating Harry. Why did she have to be so dramatic? Couldn’t she just tell him?

“Shit.” She cursed underneath her breath when she closed the drawer, folding her arms in front of her chest. Quickly Harry stood up but before he could get closer to her, to have a look at her drawers himself, she put her hand up. “I think I know what we need to do but I don’t have every ingredient.”

“What is missing?” He asked slowly.

She sighed. “We need a female frog’s eye, some mouse bones and some witches blood.”

“That shouldn’t be too ba–”

“–a witch who can use black and white magic.” She interrupted before Harry gulped. Should Harry confess that he had the right blood? He wasn’t sure if it was enough, but he must have enough on his clothes but how would he explain that to her? He couldn’t just confess what he had done, elsewise he would never get what else he needed from her and she was sure she’d kill him on the spot, while he couldn’t even defend himself. “We’ll never get that!”

He scratched the back of his head, felt the curls sticking onto him as sweat drops dripped down his back. “I might have some.”

Immediately her head shot towards her with a raised eyebrow and slightly shocked expression. “You do?” He nodded slowly. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him any further questions. “How?” But he wasn’t lucky. 

Harry tried his best to laugh it off as his brain screamed through various explanations. “A friend once gave me some.” And of course he had to come up with the most unbelievable one! Sceptically Y/N looked at him up and down, as she notices his thumb running over his tattoos. She was familiar with him doing that, as it was his habit whenever he lied. 

“A friend?” She could smell the bullshit from miles away, as no witch would give their blood, not even to a friend. They need what damage and harm it could bring if someone had would take possession of it. Their blood can be used for the most powerful spells, such as casting hell fire on earth. There was no way Harry just got it from a friend. When Y/N was thinking more and more about it, she came to the conclusion that the person wasn’t a friend but rather his victim and Harry could sense that, as her breath hitched in the back of her throat. Would he do that? 

Would she figure out his secret?

His heart was beating fast in his ribcage and he could practically hear it in his ear. “I… I know ho– how that sounds, alright? But she owned me a favour.” He lied through gritted teeth, hoping she’d ignore his trembling voice. Had she put something inside his tea or why was it so hard for him to lie to her? 

“I–” Y/N started but stopped herself to take a quick breather. Did it really care how he got it? Was she really going to question his morals when she used to torture innocent people as well to get what she wanted? Not too long ago, she’d rip people's fingernails off or break their teeth, just so she could cast a spell for her own selfish purposes and nobody was there to judge her. It was practically in their nature to harm and if Harry had done it, she shouldn’t be surprised, right? Even if she couldn’t see the dork from forty years ago harm anyone, she had to admit that he might not be the same person anymore and truly didn’t know what he was capable of and she had no time to figure it out when Jupiter was still suffering. “–ok.” She exhaled sharply. “It doesn’t matter. You have it. We need it. That’s all I need to know.” A heavy weight fell off of Harry’s broad shoulders, when he sighed in relief. He wasn’t sure if he’d continue lying to her if she’d ask more questions.

Thankfully Harry gave her a small smile and opened his mouth to say something when Millie came flying through the open kitchen window, interrupting their intense stare, as both of them focused on the flying bat above them.Harry couldn’t have been more thankful to his familiar because she didn’t know what he wanted to say, if he was honest. Worry was still visible on Y/N’s face as lines formed between her eyebrows but she didn’t say anything. She needed him to get out of her life and give Jupiter the antidote. At least that’s what she thought when she watched Millie fly closely to her familiar, before she dropped something next to his head. Before Y/N could react, Jupiter lifted his head to see a dead mouse laying next to him and Y/N realised what was happening. “I think Millie is trying to cheer him up.” Harry explained in a surprised voice. He hadn’t seen his familiar so awfully nice to strangers, especially cats as they seemed to love hurting bats. Just one little scratch on her wings, and it would leave her scarred forever, maybe even take her ability to fly, if it was serious. 

Y/N nodded, as she didn’t need his explanation. “I think they’re friends.” She said when she was taken back by Jupiter using his tiny bit of energy to look up at what Milli had brought him. He wouldn’t even look when Y/N was scratching his back or when Harry gave her attention and for a moment a sad smile adorned her face. “Maybe we could be too… one day.” She let her thoughts run wild, not caring what he was thinking about her statement, if he would even want that but Y/N was able to see a blooming friendship between them forty years ago and maybe they hadn’t lost their chance yet.  They’d have to unpack many things before that but that possibility wasn’t completely out the picture, as Harry didn’t seem to have any bad intentions in mind and he hadn’t done anything else to her white cat. So maybe he wasn’t all bad?  Harry smiled ruefully at her statement, as he knew that it was never going to happen. But yet he just gave her a tiny wink to an unknown Y/N. She was naive because, no matter how hard it felt for Harry to admit it, she didn’t suspect that her blood was going to be on his clothes next.

“You haven’t been to the witches market?” She shook her head, as he waited for her to get out of her house. Hesitantly she glimpsed inside her living room where Jupiter was laying on the rug, tiredly watching what Millie was doing, as she seemed to be eating one of the treats Y/N had prepared for her. “Where do you get your stuff from then?” He asked and waited for her to catch up with his pace.

She mumbled. “I don’t really do that kinda magic anymore. I’ve got everything I need right here.” Y/N tapped her foot against her own land, looking proudly at the small house with the much bigger garden. She hardly ever needed to buy anything, due to the many vegetables and fruits she had planted and she never needed anything for her witchcraft, because if she used her magic it was for the most simple things that didn’t require any books or ingredients, that were difficult to find, at all.

“You have a pond right in front of your house. Don’t think you could find a frog or a mouse here?” He pointed at the small water that was just a few feet’s away. “Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to buy those.”

Disgusted, she screwed up her face and put her arms on her hips, staring at him with an irritated look, as if he was talking utter nonsense. “I won’t harm an innocent animal!” She spoke obviously, almost as if he should have expected her answer.

“No?” She shook her head before rolling her eyes, giving him an answer to his phrased question. A part of her understood and knew where he came from. Most witches preferred to use animals, insects or plants straight from nature and they didn't shy away from taking them out of their natural habitat. Y/N used to be like that too. It’s hard not to, when every witch she had looked up to did that but the more years passed, the more she decided for herself that she wasn’t going to do that. Harming, hurting or killing animals wasn’t her preferred method, or at least she didn’t want to do that herself. “You’ve changed then. Because we even used to read from The Book Of The Damned in between classes for fun.” Harry continued, when he tightened his scarf around his neck, so he wouldn’t have to freeze in the cold winter.

Y/N shook her head, not trying to say no but to stop him from talking about that book. “We were being stupid. I shouldn’t have this book in the first place, or brought it with me.” It had been in her family for many, many centuries and if it were up to Y/N, she’d say for way too many. Even though it was their family’s pride and Y/N didn’t want to know how her great-great-grandmother had gotten a hold of those handwritten pages but to her, it had only brought pain and suffering for everyone. Nothing good came from it, as witches always fought about who it should belong to and even the spells required worse than sacrificing your loved ones. According to her, no one should have so much power and if she would’ve been wiser 40 years ago, she would’ve never taken and messed with it. But she was so naive and stupid.

“So, you still have it?” He asked carefully but when she nodded her head, he breathed the warm air out that he wasn’t even aware of holding in. He was relieved but the way she started frowning after hearing the book's title, he guessed she wasn’t as adventurous as she once used to be. Has something happened to her, or did she just grow up?

His eyes were still fixated on her and she sensed how he wanted to ask more questions about it, much to her dislike. That's why she picked up her pace and walked in front of him, directly towards her little pond. “So, should we walk or steal a car?” She asked instead and smiled to show him that she was just joking but he couldn’t see her and immediately he widened his eyes. It was impossible for them to walk and taking a car would take them days, something Jupiter clearly would not survive. Has it really been so long that she didn’t remember where it was?

“What? We aren’t going to steal a car, when we could take mine. But it would take too long. I don’t thi–”

“–calm down. I was kidding.” She stopped his mumbling by interrupting him and holding her hand up in the air while staring at the beautiful scenery in front of her. Thick, tall and dark trees were reflected in the dark water, while butterflies and dragonflies surrounded the green grass. Many leaves were covering the floor, as the weather got colder but Y/N didn’t mind. She likes the colours, as if they were painting the world in a brand new tone. It was a perfect place, many would probably say that it looked scary but what could scare Y/N if she was the one people should fear? That’s why she felt at ease whenever she looked out her window and that’s why she preferred to use it as a mirror, to teleport herself to different places, if they were too far away to reach by foot and not some boring, old mirror, how everybody else does. “Wouldn’t want you getting comfortable here.” She half heartedly joked. She definitely didn’t want him around her but she also couldn’t deny the fact that she was getting used to his company, even if it more often seemed to annoy her than bring her joy. “And I knew you couldn’t walk a mile in those” She eyed his shoes suspiciously. “carnival boots.”

Embarrassed, his mouth popped open and he glanced at his shoes as he was trying to hide them somehow. He didn’t think that his shoes looked bad, quite the opposite actually. He remembered when he saw them for the first time. It had been just a few years ago, when he walked by a fancy small Italian shoe company in the middle of Milan and they had immediately caught his eye. Long story short he fell in love and bought them without trying them on. For years he had worn them occasionally, whenever he wanted to spice up his outfit and he never felt bad about them. Well, until now. Now, he’s wondering if they looked like cheap boots mortals wore when they liked to play dress up.

While he was debating silently in his head if the expensive purchase was worth it, Y/N could read his expressions like an open book. It wasn’t hard when he hit the inside of his cheeks and rubbed at his slight stubble with two of his fingers. “I’m kidding. Again.” She added when she felt the guilt kicking her in her guts. Of course, she never meant it in a harmful way but rather as an attempt of teasing him, just how he always teased her. But she guessed he was more insecure. She didn’t know that and if she were honest, he made those ridiculous looking shoes look expensive, and somehow he could pull them off. “They look good on you.” Once his eyes dared to look back into hers, she gave him a small reassuring smile and walked a few steps towards him, until she could squeeze his biceps. “I was just trying to tease you, curly.”

“Curly?” He cocked his left eyebrow upwards. “Haven’t been called that since... college.”

She let her hand linger on his arm, without noticing. “Well, I gave you that nickname.” And he remembered the day when she had done so. It had been one of their usual study sessions, where they’d be lounging around in the library intending to get work done but most of the time they’d share their favorite tapes and Harry would try to convince her that he could do all the dances from footloose. Now thinking back, he definitely could not dance as good and he was happy that he’d never shown her. He would’ve embarrassed himself. But when they were concentrated on their work, she recognized how just one strand of hair would always fall on his forehead, dangle right between his eyes and annoy him by doing so. He always tried to slick that hair back but no matter how much product he used, that curl was stubborn. And that’s where she had gotten the nickname from. She always loved the wild strands of curly hair and she’d always complain if he used too much product, as she liked his natural way more, or at least that’s what she had said back then.

Immediately his heart picked up on speed, while she allowed herself to drift off to a distant memory for a short time till she got drawn back into reality by birds chirping around her. “We should get going.” She only said, when her stomach started spinning and she wondered if his curls still smelled the same. She wondered if they still smelled like cinnamon and apples and if they felt as soft as they looked in between her fingers. “We can use the water as a portal.” He silently agreed and watched her walk towards the water, when she finally reached the small pond, she mumbled a quick spell. “Aperi mihi quid cogito portal, quae praestat eam. Ibi me accipere.” Within seconds a reflection was seen in the water and he immediately recognized those streets like the ones that lead to the very famous witches market. A few witches were already walking down those old lanes that were made out of red clay many, many years ago. “Let’s go before it closes.” She informed him and stuck her arm into the water, immediately getting sucked into the other side of the mirror without getting wet. Almost as if she had never touched the wet surface. Harry quickly followed her and all he felt was a harsh wind brush through his hair and he stood next to her, in the middle of the street while the bright sun was shining at them while he dusted off his clothes and she combed through her hair with her fingers. No one even cared to see what had happened, as they were used to such a simple spell.

“Do you know where to get them?”

“No.” She shook her head and pressed her lips to a thin line. Anxiety was making itself presentable in her body when she nervously looked around. Somehow she felt out of place and scared that she wouldn’t find it, after all these years of not visiting this place and she was shocked to see that it still looked the same. Just the air felt too thick to breathe and she wasn’t as comfortable as she once used to be, when she imagined everybody staring and pointing their fingers at her, while, in reality, no one was paying her any attention. Harry didn’t seem to notice her anxious behavior when he curiously looked around the market, carefully eyeing every item, as he didn’t want to miss what they were here for.

Y/N truly tried to calm herself down, telling herself that she had been in this situation before. Numerous times, actually, and her earliest memories were from her early childhood, as her mother would always make her tag her along. Back then, she wasn’t so anxious, and would run around the place and touch everything that came to her sight but who would expect anything less from an energetic child?

But now everything was different. She was older now and knew what she should do and what she shouldn’t do and that’s what scared her. She didn’t want to do anything that she wasn’t supposed to and somehow it frightened her so much that she’d rather crawl into her little house and never come out again. A trait she wished she could let go of but it was easier said than done.

Her mother used to advise her to take some substances that mortals used as well to calm themselves down and she had tried them all before. And even if they helped her for a little while, it wasn’t long enough to satisfy her health.

That’s why she’s left alone in her headspace, creating all those scenarios that could –but wouldn’t– happen, without any help to calm herself down.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Harry asked when he saw her frozen on the same spot, while he had spent the past couple of minutes roaming around. Worriedly he frowned, staring at her shocked state. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes were shot wide open, mouth trembling and sweat starting to form on her hairline. Softly he touched her hand, only to realize that her whole body was stiff and that she was so cooped up in her world that she didn’t even notice him standing right in front of her. “Y/N?” He asked again but he didn’t receive an answer yet, just her absent eyes looking past him. “Y/N?” He spoke with Mir certainty and volume this time, somewhat catching her attention, as her eyes darted to him but she didn’t talk yet. Gently, he grabbed her arm, dragging her to one of the less crowded sidewalks. When the sun wasn’t shining directly at them anymore, her hands started to shake, resulting in Harry gripping her tighter than before, scared that she might faint.

For a while, no one said anything, as distraught Y/N tried to control her thoughts and a stressed Harry searched for a solution.

“I–” Y/N started and stopped herself but when she opened her mouth again, no words came out. She looked like a fish out of the water and somehow she felt like one as well. “–I ca–” She tried, she tried to finish her sentence but her dry mouth, her fast-thinking brain, and those trembling lips, made it almost impossible to do so and luckily Harry caught onto it and didn’t make her finish. Instead, he pulled her closer to his chest, holding her steady while her eyes were tearing up.

Gently Harry brushed through her hair, as he looked down at her. “It’s ok. Everything’s going to be just fine.” He shushed when he felt her hands gripping his clothes and her unsteady breathing rhythm messing with his own. “I got you. I’m right here.” After those words, a silence overcame them and the only thing Harry was focused on was her breathing and making sure that she didn’t start bawling her eyes out. Not that he wouldn’t hold her if she’d wet his clothes but he would be worried about what to do next if she decided to cry. Something was getting to her and he wanted to know what it was so he could make her situation better. He had never seen her like this and that somehow scared him. It scared him because he didn’t know what to do and he hated feeling clueless. While other people were passing them, shooting them annoyed or sometimes worried glances, he just ignored them all and gave her his whole attention, even if she wasn’t saying anything. But it calmed him down knowing that when he rubbed her back, she didn’t feel as tense anymore and that her grip loosened around his coat. “How are you feeling?” He asked once he was sure that her breathing was back to normal.

For a second too long Y/N buried her face in his chest, taking his scent in, and allowing it to calm her down before she felt ready to talk. “I– 'm alright.” A scoff left Harry’s lips and Y/N didn’t have to look up to know that he was shaking his head.  She had expected him to say something like “bullshit” or accuse her of lying but he didn’t. Instead, he still held her and he was still rubbing her back with his backhands.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me but…” He stops himself before he lets too much slip.  Should he say what he was about to say? Or will it be too much for her? “I’m here and I’ll listen.” Whatever selfish part inside of him believed that at that moment it was just the two of them, and no one else around them mattered, he let himself believe that. He let himself believe that he wasn’t by her side for more selfish reasons, instead of facing the truth. All he wanted was to pretend that he could be someone she could trust. And when her arms swung around him tightly, it was so easy for him to pretend.

For a short time, a silence overcame them and all she did was try to get her breathing under control. “Sometimes I get… anxious.” She admitted, which she had never done before. To be fair, there was no one in her life that she could say those words too but saying those words to Harry and holding so tightly onto him, as if her life depended on it, was never something she saw coming. Yet, he made her feel safe when the world was so scary and it immediately brought her back to their college years, when he used to be the one, making her feel comfortable. Even if it just was throughout their freshman year. She felt his hands rubbing her back, coaxing the anxiety to be drained from her body and making her feel relaxed enough to continue. “It doesn’t happen often an– and only when it’s cro– crowded.” Her voice sounded so hoarse and the way it cracked at the end, made a pain shot through him. With soft eyes he looked down at her, brushing her hair to one side, to get a better angle at her face.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“What?”

“You can squeeze it if you’re feeling uncomfortable, so I can know. My hand, I mean. You can squeeze my hand if it’s alright with you unless it won’t help you then you do–”

”–ok.” She interrupted his stuttering with a faint ghost of a smile and took his big hand into her own. Immediately he intertwined their fingers together as if he had been holding her hand all these years when he only got briefly the chance to. And when her skin touched him, both swore that those forty years had never happened, as electricity shot through their bodies, pulling them closer together.

For the rest of the day, she let him hold her hand, as they were searching for everything they needed and even though Y/N started to feel overwhelmed at times, Harry’s presence calmed her down. Enough at least so she was able to function. It felt odd to her that she hated his guts for so long when he didn’t seem as bad right now, especially since he hadn’t been an asshole to her and even sounded worried about her mental state.

She never thought she’d say this but she had to admit that she was wrong for being so stubborn. She was wrong for hating his guts so much because he might not be all bad. Of course, it doesn’t change what he had done to her but now she felt ready to at least listen to what he has to say.

And Harry felt that something was lingering in her mind when her mind would wander off and leave her zooming out on him, once they were back at her place. Her mouth was kept shut and she forbade herself from opening up, even when the silence had become so unbearable. She just wanted to know what he’d happened between them and why she didn’t hate him, even though she tried so hard.

But most importantly, she wondered if just a tiny fragment of him felt the same, so she’d get some closure.

The uncomfortable space captured them both immediately and once he sat down on her ugly rug, and Y/N made herself comfortable on her couch,  he had to admit that her floor was oddly comfortable and he finally understood how Y/N was able to sit on it.

Maybe this terrible looking thing was not so useless after all.

“Do you regret it?” She asked, breaking the silence that seemed to suffocate her. Apart of her wanted to stay quiet but she couldn’t anymore, not after everything they had talked about today and what he had confessed earlier. Could his words be true?

Harry looked at her in anticipation, while folding his hands in his lap. “Regret what?” He asked, wanting to make sure what she was referring to even though he knew exactly what she meant but yet she didn’t answer. She chose to stay quiet and that made Harry urge an answer out of her. Was she thinking the same thing? “Regret what, Y/N?”

For a long time, she stayed quiet, because what was he supposed to regret? Ever meeting her? Befriending her? Or was he supposed to regret that she thought there was more going on without realizing it? “The night at the party.” She mumbled when she tried to pin the time when everything went sour and she concluded that it had to be after the party, after their one night that could’ve to lead to something but didn’t.

Immediately he knew what she meant by that and he shook his head harshly. “No.” He spoke firmly and with strength in his voice because he wasn’t lying. He didn’t regret anything that had to do with her and he knew it was impossible for him to feel that way. But how did she not see that? How did she not know that? “Why would you think that? You left the next morning without an explanation. I thought you regretted it.” Slowly anger was burning in the pits of his stomach when he thought back to that day. He hadn’t done anything wrong, as he remembered him falling asleep with his head in his neck, thinking that they can finally kick off a relationship that was always ready to be built. Even though Harry couldn’t see his face, he swore he slept with a smile grazing his pink lips because he knew he was going to wake up next to her. But that never happened. She had left without saying a word and acted as if nothing ever happened. So, shouldn’t he be asking her that question?

“No, I di–”

“–Why did you leave?” Those words left his mouth quicker than he could think about them but he was glad that he had said them. He wanted, no needed, his closure. Did she just play with his heart? She shrugged her shoulders but it wasn’t a good enough answer for him, not after he had waited forty years to finally get an explanation. “Tell me, why did you leave?”

His eyes burned holes into her head until she stopped chewing her bottom lip and finally got her to crack open and let him know what was going through her head. “I… I was scared, ok? I didn’t know what to think.” She mumbled, almost impossible to hear but luckily Harry understood her but it didn’t give him any clarification.

“Really? That’s it? You didn’t know what to think?” He scoffed. That was it? She didn’t know what to think? That’s why she’d been ignoring him for such a goddamn long time? “You could’ve just talked to me!” It wasn’t his intention to sound so rude but he couldn’t help himself and spit his words out as if he was trying to get the poison out of his mouth.

Now it wasn’t Y/N’s turn to feel irritated and even a little bit angry. “Don’t you think I tried?” Annoyed, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, waiting for an answer that never came. He shrugged. How was he supposed to know when he felt like that he was the only one constantly trying. “You were always with your friends and… and I heard what you said to them.” Her eyes were searching for an answer in his green ones but got only met with more questions. He looked confused, as he didn’t know what he could’ve said to them that hurt Y/N so badly. She sighed defeatedly, as he seemed to want an answer from her. “You said you could never be interested in me.” She felt uneasy, confessing what she had heard when she only wanted to use the toilet and his friends were all sitting on the couch downstairs, completely drunk, and practically shouting.

It was right after Harry had fallen asleep next to her, with his head buried in her neck, and his hair tickling her face. Sweat was still covering their bodies and the mess they had made, could even make a blind person see what they had done not too long ago. But she didn’t mind. The only thing that she could hear was her fast-beating heart in her ears and the blood rushing to her cheeks whenever she saw Harry’s hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and the small scratches she had left in his arms. There were probably some on his back as well but she couldn’t see them.

Gently, she pushed Harry’s body away from her, so she could escape his hold and go to the bathroom. While her mind was still replaying what had just happened, a faint shouting pulled her back to reality. All she could remember was one of his friends asking how Harry could stand to be with her in the same room while another replied with how he only used Y/N for an easy fuck and that’s what Harry had said to them as well. That made her feel so extremely dirty, hard, and sad. Was she just an easy one night stand to him? A part of her didn’t want to believe those words but she couldn’t help and let them get to her head. Somehow the butterflies she had felt previously were gone and tears were evident in her eyes. His friends would always give her dirty looks whenever they’d see Harry and her together and Y/N had seen how much prettier girls than her, gave Harry hungry eyes. He flirted with all of them, so she couldn’t be anyone special, right?

Regret washed over him. He did? “Y/N, I–” When he saw the pain evident on her face, he gulped. He apparently did and he didn’t even know.

”–I figured it would be best to just forget about what had happened between us and you seemed to hate me anyways. So, it wasn’t too hard.” She felt her heart skip a beat painfully when she remembered how she had felt in that moment and she wondered if being stabbed by a knife would’ve been easier to go through.

A pain shot through his heart. Hate her? Never. “I never hated you.” He explained calmly, trying to see her eyes b she dodged his gaze because she didn’t want him to see her watery ones. She didn’t want to cry but this conversation frustrated her and brought her back all those feelings she never wanted to feel again. Heartbreaks suck, especially if you’re a stubborn witch who can’t let go of the past.

“Yes, you did! And you basically bullied me through the next years.” Her voice had gotten louder and the tears became more threatening, as they dared to roll down her cheeks at any time now. But she wondered if it was just her anger getting too much and making her so undeniably emotional.

“It wasn’t bu–”

“–don’t deny it! It makes it so much worse, Harry!” Her shoulders sank up and down heavily, as she tried to control her quick breathing but the tension was getting thicker and she didn’t know how much longer she could take it. “Ever since I went out on that date, you made my life a living hell. Why did you do that?” He was silent, trying to understand her. Did she really think he was bullying her? That was never his intention and he didn’t know how to tell her. “See! You can’t explain it yourself.”

She faced herself away from him, ready to get up and leave her living room when Harry let out a small whisper. “I was jealous.” And it took him a lot of courage to own up to his mistakes and explain why he did what he did. He always wanted closure from her and she should get the same.

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and curiously furrowed her eyebrows. Jealousy? Now that she didn’t see coming. “What? Why?” She hissed when she heard how fragile her voice sounded but she didn’t care for long when she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. This situation was loaded with tension, frustration, anger and even some relief because both of them had waited forty years to talk about what had happened that caused everything else to turn so sour.

He took long breaths before he confessed what had scratched his fragile ego to cause him to be an asshole to her. And when he thought about it he felt like an absolute idiot but he couldn’t back out now. “Because you were able to ignore me, after everything and go out with that douche?” He scrunched up his face in disgust. “It didn’t even take you long to replace me.”

“No one could replace you.” She confessed, looking directly into Harry’s eyes. Electricity ran through her veins and suddenly the room felt so tiny, making it so much harder for her to breathe. She thinks she’ll never catch a break. For a moment both took their times to process what had happened, while looking at each other closely. They hadn’t even realised how close they had gotten to each other and only knew she noticed tiny freckles in his cheeks and nose, a tiny scar in his chin and how long his eyelashes were.

And he finally registered her beautiful features and even the smaller details that made her skin so unique and all he wanted to do was to touch her cheeks and caress each and every spot. Only now he realised how his chest was so close to her legs and his hands slowly grabbed her knees, pushing her legs apart. He never stopped looking at her, to make sure she wanted him to touch her. For a short moment she let Harry’s hands wander and closed her eyes to just feel him, as the stare had gotten too intense for her liking. All she wanted to feel was Harry’s soft hands making her feel appreciated and somehow even managed to comfort her and make the tension disappear step by step.

Carefully his hands rubbed against her thighs, while he was watching her from between her legs. Her breath hitched when her gaze met with his hungry eyes and an undeniable flame erupted within her, asking for more fuel to grow bigger. She could feel his cold rings through her black jeans but it wasn’t uncomfortable as he rubbed his skin in hers thoroughly, warming her up. Y/N was able to see what Harry wanted to do and he made sure that she understood him.

His plump lips rubbed over the fabric she was wearing but even that small contact sent shivers down Y/N’s spine and how he was looking at her, as if she was the only one that mattered, made her feel more excited and nervous at the same time. She rubbed her sweaty palms against her rug, so Harry wouldn’t notice but he did and with a low, raspy voice he started asking. “Can I kiss you?” Slowly she nodded while biting her bottom lip. A one sided grin appeared in his face, when he kneeled between her legs and grabbed her face to pull her closer to him. He felt her hot breath on his nose when he caressed her heated cheek and wondered how her skin was able to be so soft. Deeply, he started into her eyes, counting the different specks of Color in them, when he thought back to all the restless nights he had dreamed of being that close to her again. And even if he was next to her because of the worst reasons, he had no choice but forget all about them, as she finally closed the gap between them and put her lips hard in his. Her hands immediately gripped the base of his neck, while he rested on her hips, drawing small circles on them. He felt her sigh against his mouth when he grabbed the flesh harder, giving him an opportunity to slide his tongue inside, which she gladly accepted.

His warm scent made her feel dizzy and the unsatisfied hunger kept her mouth going, keeping their lips dancing together rhythmically. She didn’t know for how long they kept going until she felt Harry’s hands trailing upwards, clearly playing with the hem of her shirt, almost as if he was waiting for her permission. With one last tug in his soft curls, she let go of him and mumbled a quiet “yes” against his lips to which he replied with a smile.

With a lot of anticipation she waited till Harry slid the shirt off of her, exposing her bra padded chest. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a simple black bra but Harry made her feel so extremely beautiful when he stared at her with those hungry eyes, as if he was ready to swallow her whole.

The soft skin that looked like porcelain kept Harry in a trance and within seconds his mouth connected to her chest, kissing softly her neck and down to between her chest. God, she was stunning and Harry would’ve been drooling if he couldn’t control himself. She was prettier than any other girl he’s ever met and he was going to make sure that she knew. After all, how could anybody ever regret having her? It was impossible.

“May I?” Y/N asked when she gripped Harry’s shirt, pleading with her eyes to take off his clothes but much to her dislike he shook his head.

“It’s not about me tonight, darling.” With that he slid between her legs again, his head right in front of her middle. “Let me make you feel good. Let me make you scream my name. Please.” And the last word with the six letters, made her squirm. He was pleading, he was begging to pleasure her and Y/N couldn’t put it into words how wet he had gotten her with one, simple word. She couldn’t help but nod in anticipation. “Use words, baby. Tell me what you want.” His hands gave her thighs a tight squeeze, demanding a verbal answer. With every word Harry’s words got deeper and his eyes grew darker the longer it took for Y/N to answer him.

“Make me feel good, Harry.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I… I don–”

“–no lying, darling or I won’t give you anything.” “Now, let’s try again.” He leaned close to her ear. “Tell me. What–” He kissed her soft spot behind her ear. “–do–” His teeth picked at her delicate skin, making her hiss. “–you–” She knew he was leaving a mark, and she couldn’t care less when his tongue caressed the spot he had just bitten. “–want.” He finished his sentence with one last suck on that spot, still gripping her hips harshly and pulling away from her slightly so he could look into her excited eyes.

“I want you to take off my pants.”

He nodded. “As you wish.” Quickly his fingers grazed over the buttons, giving her one last look and when she gave him a hard nod, he grinned from ear to ear, while he undressed her. Once her bare legs were in his sight, his hands immediately found their place on them again and his mouth made sure to kiss every, newly exposed skin. For a second she stopped breathing when Harry came close to her aching core and she was sure that he could see a wet spot on her panties and all she wanted him to do, was to give her the attention where she wanted it the most.

“No.” She shook her head.

“What? You don’t want me kissing your thighs?” She shook her head. “Where then?” Her hands grabbed his head, pulling him towards her desired place. He grinned. “Do you want me to taste you?” She nodded, only resulting in Harry slapping her thigh. “No, no, no. What did I say? Use your words, love.”

“P– please. Finger me.”

“Everything you want princess.” His teeth grabbed the hem off her panties, slowly pulling them down while he still maintained eye contact with her. He could see the juices flowing out, making him want to completely ravish her, as she was so ready for him and he couldn’t grasp it. She was ready for him. He never thought that this day would come ever again. But before his mouth met her lips, his cold fingers started exploring her folds, rubbing slow circles on each spot, besides her pulsating clit, resulting in Y/N to whine. Harry knew what she wanted and, most importantly, where she wanted him but after forty years he was going to enjoy every second of it and not rush into anything, as they were able to take their sweet time, even if her patience runs very thin.

Excitement ran through the pit of her stomach, while she watched Harry caressing every inch of her body, just not exactly where she wanted him to and it frustrated her. Tired of his games, she dove her hand into his curls, pulling tightly onto the many strands of hair. “Stop teasing me.” She only choked out when his fingers ghosted over her clit and even though it was hardly any friction, it felt really good.

“I’m not teasing, just savouring you.” And with those mumbled words, his thumb rubbed small circles over her swollen clit, making sure to put enough pressure to make her squirm. A satisfied grin spread across his face when she bucked her hips harder against his hand and a small hiss left her mouth, followed by a small moan. Y/N bit her bottom lip, when he rubbed harder and faster against her, to keep herself from being too loud. But when a satisfied grasp escaped her silky lips, Harry’s grin widened and he immediately began to slowly run his fingers along her opening, teasing her by dipping his tips into her wetness. He had to fight his urge to give his all to her, as he just wanted to hear her scream his name over and over again. Not only would it stroke his ego but satisfy him, knowing he was able to make her feel good, like he once was able to. But he just didn’t want to give it to her, he wanted her to remember every second of it, just like how he would remember all the spots that drive her wild. His lips trailed up and down her inner thighs, slightly scratching her, till he hadn’t found time to shave his growing stubble and his hands were still massaging her, feeling how wet she had become. A chuckle escaped his throat when Y/N buckled her hips forward to feel more of his hands on her. He smiled against her soft skin and finally gave in, and pushed his finger inside her warm, soft and wet core.

“Harry.” She managed to moan when his finger started moving and instinctively she spread her legs wider apart, to allow him more access. Blissfully, he sunk another finger in, spreading her perfectly, while he found the perfect rhythm to make her feel good. Seeing her mouth agape, eyes shut and back slightly arching away from the couch, his trousers began to painfully tighten around him. “Right there.” Her toes were curling, while her fingers tugged harshly on his curls, making him groan, when he hit her sweetest spot, erupting a pleasant fire in her abdomen.

“You’re so tight, baby. Can’t believe I fit in there.” A breathy chuckle she felt on her heated skin, when he saw her eyes widening by his words. She was still so innocent and he loved it. “God, you’re so wet. My fingers are covered.” Y/N moaned, as a warning to not continue with his dirty talk, even though hearing his deep, raspy and bassy voice sent additional chills down her spine and turned her on even more. She was clenching around his fingers, motivating him to go deeper and faster, as she was so close to reaching her high. She couldn’t even remember when someone actually made her feel so ecstatic and whenever she did it on her own, it never felt so good. “Are you getting close, baby? Do you wanna come all over my fingers?” Harry asked, still pumping his fingers, with one hand,  in and out of her and with the other hand rubbing his thumb over her pulsating clit. He felt her getting tighter around him, making him imagine how it’d feel to be inside her warm, wet and soft pussy or he wondered how sweet she’d taste and what noises he could coax out of her. He wanted to know everything and he wanted to be the only one knowing every spot of hers that kept her whining and moaning around him.

When she only gave him a nod, as an answer, his fast movements came to an immediate halt.

She almost choked on her tongue, when she felt the sudden lack of action. “Wha–”

“–use your words.” He emphasised the small breaks between every word while staring at her with darker eyes and a dominating tone in his voice, making her swallow her pride. “Beg for me to let you come.”

“Harry.” She sighed, moving her hips in circles but he held her hips in place and for a split second she wanted to shake her head and tell him to fuck off but the way his lips were swollen from kissing her, his cheeks flushed red and his curly hair messily laying on his head, her knees started to feel wobbly. She practically felt how her body was already begging for a release, so she guessed she could actually start begging as well. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me come.” Harry grinned, as he felt satisfaction run through his veins and it didn’t take him long to pick up his speed again. His fingers moved in and out of her harder and faster than before and if he bucked her hips upwards he hit that one spot that made her see stars.

“Come all over my fingers, angel.” He moaned himself, when she started clenching his fingers again and tightly she grabbed onto the soft material of her couch, when her back was arching and her legs started shaking softly.

When she felt his stubble against her inner thighs again and his fingers curling inside of her, an intense pleasure washed over her and with a loud moan, she let her juices flow all over him. “Fuck. Harry!” She moaned, moving away from his hand, as he rode her down her orgasm. With shaky hands she gave his curls one last tug, telling him to let go of her and even though he wanted to continue, wanted to test her limits and how far he could push them, he let go of her with a smirk in his face. But before Y/N could see his smug smile, he put his fingers in his mouth, tasting what was left of her sweetness, savouring her flavour.

“The next time you’ll have to let me taste you.” He lulled, grabbed her face into his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. He felt her shaky breath in his upper lip, before her hand grasped his wrist, keeping him close to her. Her heart was undeniably beating fast and all she wanted to do was pull him closer to her.

She cleared her throat. “Can I–” Stopping herself, she went to touch his belt, wanting so badly to make him feel as good as he had made her feel but he pushed her hand away, while shaking his head.

“No, not today.” In his green eyes, she saw that he wasn’t eager anymore and that the hunger was gone, even after seeing his hardening length in his pants. She was sceptical and wondered why he didn’t want anything from her but before she could sink deeper into her spiral of negative thoughts, he kissed her forehead sincerely and stared at her with an adorning gaze, making her feel like the only person on this planet.

It didn’t take much more convincing for her and she only nodded her head tiredly. “Do you wanna stay?” She asked hopefully with drooping eyes and before they fell completely shut, she saw him nodding his head and wrapping her inside his strong arms and pulling her close to his warm chest, where she could smell his lulling scent. She was seconds away from falling asleep when one last question popped in her head. “Why did you erase my memory?”

Softly Harry breathed in her hair, holding her tightly. “I didn’t want you to remember me like that.” Even if Harry believed that he never bullied her, he wasn’t going to lie about how horribly he had treated her. He had tried so often to make it up to her but somehow he was never able to and when they graduated, he couldn’t let her go with such a bad opinion about him. He thought it would be better for her never knowing him, than actually hating him. 

“You’re not all bad.” Shemumbled before she fell asleep right inside his arms, something she has never experienced before and she could swear, she had never slept more peacefully. When her eyes fell shut, Harry sighed regrettingly but he shook his thoughts away. She is finally asleep and he needed to look for what he truly came here for. His heavy footsteps walked him through the house, searching carefully for the item he was so desperately looking for. It was the last key for him to finally get what he wanted for so long and he wasn’t going to give it all up, just because he just wanted to spoon her in the couch and fall asleep with his head buried in her hair and his arms pulling her close to his chest. And if he really thought about it, he felt stupid for wanting those things because he didn’t only want them but he missed them. And now that didn’t make sense to him. They were never so close to each other, so what did he miss if he didn’t even know what it’d feel like. He was stubborn, that for sure, because deep down he knew what he was missing while he was going through her drawers.

He was missing the opportunity to be with her, when once he swore that’s all he ever wanted and what she said made his heart beat faster and he wished he could agree with her but he knew what he had done and she didn’t and no matter how much he enjoyed being this close to her, it wasn’t all that was in his mind.

But, again, times had changed and he didn’t only long for her to be in his life.

When he peeked over his shoulders to watch a sleeping Y/N cuddled on the couch, with his coat draped over her shoulders, as he couldn’t find a blanket to put on her, he decided that she wouldn’t have the same fate, as his other victims faced, he stole from. He couldn’t lose her again, or at least he wouldn’t want to lose the chance of running into her, in another forty years, if she would run away from him again. But knowing that she was somewhere in this world, living her life, he’d find her. And if seeing a glimpse of her was all he’ll get, then it’ll still be more than knowing that her heart wasn’t beating anymore.

He can’t kill her.

He won’t kill her.

But he had to think fast, if he wanted to prevent her from dying by his own hands.

Harry was sitting next to the white cat on her familiar couch, touching his head softly. Harry felt how Jupiter melted into his touch and with exhausted eyes he looked at the dead mouse that Millie had brought him. It was odd for Harry to see how a cat and a bat had gotten so fond of each other but yet what was odd to a witch, right?

“Harry? Are you ready?” Y/N asked, as we walked inside the living room with every ingredient that they needed. With her pointy finger, she pushed her table away, creating more space, as she crouched to the floor, drawing a pentagram on the wooden floor with white chalk.

“In a second.” She looked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows and with urging eyes, telling him silently to keep going, and asking him silently what was wrong. “Before we start, this is for Jupiter.” He pulled something out of his black trousers and held a small bottle with a purple liquid inside, up in the air for her to see. “It’s the antidote.”

“Already? We haven’t gotten your powers back yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, while clearing his throat. It truly didn’t matter to him anymore, as he couldn’t take to see her familiar fighting for his life. He figured that the cat had suffered enough and even if Y/N didn’t find the right way to break the spell, she would one day. “I trust you.”

A million thoughts were running through her mind but none of them were bad ones and the more she thought about it, the more butterflies erupted inside her belly. “Thank you.” She shyly thanked him, avoiding his gaze as her cheeks turned red. It was no wonder that she trusted Harry, given what had happened yesterday but to hear Harry trusting, gave her all the clarification she needed.

“He’ll be sleeping for a while but when he wakes up, he should feel better.” He let her know before he helped the cat drink the antidote. He let out a small whimper and it didn’t take much longer till he fell asleep. Harry could only hope that it wouldn’t take him too long to get better. Those antidotes were unpredictable as there was no way to tell how long they’d take to work.

“Everything looks good. Now you just need to take off your shirt.” Harry looked over to Y/N, forbidding him to drift back to his thoughts. Y/N was done, drawing on the floor and she had placed a chair in the middle of it. Usually, this sight would activate his fight-or-flight-mode because she could do so many things to him if she wanted to. She could hold him imprisoned, make a demon possess him or so many other things that would take him too long if he tried to list them all. And maybe he’d be sceptical and wouldn’t want to trust her if they were still so hateful towards each other. But a lot has changed and if there was one person he trusted, then it was her, the sweet woman in front of him that still made his heart go crazy.

“I don’t think it’s the right time to flirt with me, darling.” He said, obviously joking and yet Y/N felt the urge to defend herself when he pulled his shirt over his head. For a second she lost her train of thoughts and the only thing she could think of was him. The way his chest looked so much more muscular than she remembered and how his shoulders have gotten broader over the years. He looked so much more like a man and it suited him well. She wondered what else he had expanded.

She swallowed her thoughts away while shaking her head, as if she was admonishing herself. “Don’t flatter yourself! It’s solely for the ritual.” Maybe not just for the ritual, she thought when she let her eyes wander and saw the multiple tattoos covering his upper body and the many new ones she wanted to trace with her fingers and memorize every line. He had gotten better looking over time and she couldn’t deny that the ink helped him to age like fine wine.

“Do you think this will really help?” He asked, oblivious to what was going on inside her head.

She shrugged her shoulders, trying her hardest not to let these thoughts get to her. “It should but you never know.”

He sighed. “There’s only one way to find out.” With those words he sat down on the chair and closed his eyes briefly, to prepare himself for what was about to happen. Nervously he fidgeted with the baggy material of his pants, as a manoeuvre to calm him down. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was nervous but he guessed it was new for him to trust someone, as he hadn’t done that in a long time. It almost sounded foreign to him, like a word he had never heard in an unknown language. Maybe that’s why he was so nervous, or he was nervous about the other things he still had to do and he didn’t want to mess everything up. If he did, he’d lose the one person he could trust and, as odd as it sounded to him, that scared him. He opened his eyes again, carefully observing what Y/N was doing, as she threw the bones into a black, metallic bowl and crushed them to a white pulver before she put the juicy-looking eyeballs inside. Carefully, she used every ingredient they needed till it was time to cast a fire. With delicate fingers she created a hot flame and within seconds, after hitting the bowl, it turned a deep, violent blue. “That worked.” She let him now, as she sighed in relief, visually relaxing just a tiny bit. Carefully, she took the bowl in her hands and walked over to Harry, placing it on his lap. “Don’t move, alright?” He only nodded, leaving all the talking to her. Y/N was holding a blood red stone, gripping it harshly inside her hand, as she began to walk in a circle outside of the pentagram. “Tamquam ex virtute quam ego ego quaeritur te.”Her voice strong and the usual trembling gone. Her eyes were closed and with a deathly grip on the stone she walked and walked. “Da mihi virtutem complere.” With a swift motion she grabbed the tiny container of blood, Harry had brought her, and placed herself directly in front of him. “Virium ei laetus.” Her finger dipped inside the red liquid and she drew a rune on his toned chest, concentrating to not mess it up. When she was done, she pressed her hand palm against his chest with a strong force, catching him off guard till a burning pain erupted inside him, making him curse underneath his breath and clutch his eyes shut tightly. “You’re almost done.” She whispered to him, hoping it would ease his pain. Impatiently she waited till the flame went out, showing her that it worked.

“Is it done?” He asked, slowly opening his eyes in anticipation, waiting for Y/N to say something positive.

“Yes.” Was all she said and he needed to hear that, to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close, as his excitement took over him. He was finally being himself again. He was finally a witch again and not like a lousy mortal with no powers.

“Thank you.” He laughed in her hair, as he was still holding her close, deeply inhaling her sweet aroma. “Producat in rosa.” He snapped with his fingers, feeling the electricity run through his fingers, as a steady warmth captured his whole body. Oh, how he missed this feeling. He missed the way he felt so powerful and strong.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, creating some distance between them by pushing against his chest. “This is the first spell you use after regaining your magic? Really?”

Even though her tone was judging and she truly didn’t understand what was going through his head, she had to smile as his was contagious enough that she felt forced to do as well, feeling the happiness radiate off him so evidently. “This is for you, as a thank you.” He handed her a simple, red rose, that he was able to conjure, since his powers were back and handed it to her. He had to admit that it wasn’t his most charming move but he felt too happy to think straight and find more creative ways to woo her.

“You’re a dork.” She only said, taking the rose in her hand and placing it on the dining table, next to her, while she still stayed next to him, not wanting to move further away. Her heart was racing, undeniably fast and it felt as if a giant dose of joy had hit her brain, making her feel struck by his gentle gesture. She felt it was unfair of him to be able to make her annoyed and happy.

Her warm fingers still lingered on his chest, when they finally realised how close they were to each other. Her breath got stuck in her throat while she felt his hit her face. His green eyes were watching her closely, like a hungry wolf, and Y/N swore she felt electricity run through both of them. The house was quiet, even the world was quiet, as there was no match to their beating hearts. Nothing was louder.

She felt herself being hypnotised by his green eyes and the way his skins felt so soft on her skin. Her lips were trembling slightly, as she still remembered what had happened yesterday. Simply the memory of him between her legs, made her feel so incredibly excited and she felt herself getting wet. So, she bit onto her bottom lip to keep the quavering hidden from his sight. But he saw it and a devilish grin spread across his angelic features. Instantly he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, flushing her chest against his, so she would have no choice but to sit on his lap.

Her mouth opened in shock but before she even realised that she was looking like a fish out of water, he pressed his pillowy and plump lips against her soft ones and wrapped her tighter in his arms. It took her a few seconds till she kissed him back and when she did a fire arose in the bit of her stomach. Hungrily she traced her tongue against his lip, asking for permission to get inside. But Harry didn’t, so she tried again. When he didn’t open his mouth again, Y/N tugged in the curls at the vape of his neck, knowing exactly that he’d groan and when he did, she didn’t waste no time, as she tried to taste every inch of his addictive flavour.

His left hand held her steadily by the hips but his right hand wandered up and down her back, creating goosebumps to cover her skin. A cold shiver ran down her back, when she felt his hands rubbing all the tension away. While his lips were still on hers, she sighted pleasantly. Both of them don’t even know how long they had been making out when he finally broke off the kiss to get some air into his lungs. Only then, both of them noticed, how bad they needed to catch a breath, as all they wanted was each other. Her lips traveled from his cheeks to his neck, where she started to leave wet kisses along his veins, feeling them pulsating on her lips and slowly nibbling at his satiny skin. He let out a small whimper when she bit on a spot that she knew would make him vocal, if her memory wasn’t playing any tricks with her.

“Y/N.” He moaned when she sucked on the fresh bite mark, making sure that she was leaving a hickey. Usually Harry wasn’t the biggest fan when people would mark him up but if Y/N did it, he wasn’t going to complain. How dare he complain if she gave him something so sweet? With one last kiss, she let go of his neck and let her hands slide against his chest and run her thumbs over his hard nipples. Patiently Harry waited for her to do more than to just admire him. It did boost his ego knowing she was looking at him with those wanting, hungry and passionate eyes but he wanted more. He had waited forty years, had lived with the unknown and with the knowledge that she didn’t even remember him, when all he wanted to do was barge into her home, to get here. His pants have gotten so tight and he was sure she felt him poking her at the right angle, as she was pressing herself onto him but she didn’t dare to move yet. That’s why he pushed her body further into his, as he began to move her around in his arms. Immediately pleasure shot through both of them at the new wave of sensation. With parted lips, heavy breathing and a need to feel more, she rubbed herself against him, clutched at his shoulders tightly and let him kiss her neck. “You’re so perfect.” He breathed on her, when she felt his tongue gliding over her, followed by his teeth. “I wanted you for so long.” Her heartbeat quickened even more when she heard him say those nice things, leading her to want to rip off their clothes right this second.

To her luck, Harry was thinking the same thing and let his hands wander underneath her shirt, before he pulled it over their head. For a split second she felt insecure about her bra choice, as a simple, white bra wasn’t the sexiest underwear she had ever worn and she wondered what he thought of that. Was he disappointed? Did he expect more? But judging by the way his eyes widened and his tongue drove over his lips, it was certain that he didn’t mind at all. Or maybe he did mind, because he just wanted her to be naked already. He wanted both of them to be naked already. But he didn’t mind what she was wearing. There was nothing that could make her look less desirable in his eyes as he hungrily took her beautiful body in. One of his hands slid to her belly, smoothly rubbing against her soft skin, and when he felt her tensing up, lines formed between his eyebrows and worriedly he looked at her. “Is everything alright?”

Y/N bit on her bottom lip, slowly nodding her head, as she was trying to get rid of the demons telling her, she wasn’t good enough, her underwear wasn’t seductive enough and that she just wasn’t enough. All she wanted was the man in front of her, who made her feel comfortable, and not those insecurities ruining the moment. “I’m sorry.” She murmured, shaking her head. She was ruining the moment, wasn’t she? “Just… just don’t touch me there.” She put his hand away from her belly and placed it back at her hip. A few deep breaths, she had to take,  before she had enough courage to look at him again and all she saw was the softest look, anyone has ever given her. He didn’t look judging, blaming or even mad and that made her feel a lot better already.

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to... but why?” He asked slowly, as if he was walking on eggshells because he was scared of her reaction and he didn’t want to push her.

She sighed. “I– I don’t like it.” Those were the only words that had left her mouth and by that phrase it could’ve meant anything but the way her eyes drifted over her body and her pointing at herself, made Harry gulp. How on earth was such a stunning woman insecure? If anybody should feel insecure, he was convinced it had to be him.

“Don’t.” He only warned her, when his hands cupped her face. “Don’t say that. You’re so fucking perfect.” He connected their mouths together by pressing a small but firm kiss on her lips. His thumb was caressing her cheeks and when she finally sighed and stopped being so tense, Harry was able to relax as well. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, absolutely, madly stunning.” The way his eyes stayed on hers and never even blinked, proved that he wasn’t lying, or at least Y/N started to believe his words, as he sounded so sincere. How could a person find the right words at the right time and wrong ones all the time? “Truly, you’re so b–” She didn’t even let him finish and just captured his lips in another hungry kiss. Her hands immediately got tangled in his curls again and this time she kissed him more eagerly and let her hands slide to his pants, as she was opening them up. She wanted him. She wanted all of him and she was willing to push those insecurities away because they didn't seem to be flaws in Harry’s eyes and that turned her on even more, that made her want him even more. That’s why she let him touch her skin, even the spots she didn’t like, and when he finally opened her bra, she took it off quickly, hoping he wasn’t going to change his mind. But he didn’t even give her any more time to be insecure about her body, as his mouth traveled down her neck, till he came face to face with her chest, that looked so kissable. His lips left kisses all around them and when he came close to her nipple, he only dared to ghost over them, as he wanted to see her reaction first.

When her breath hitched in her throat and she, encouragingly, pushed his head closer to her, he smirked on her skin before he sucked her, already hard, nipple in his mouth. With soft strokes of his tongue, he flicked over it continually, his hand giving her other breast the much wanted and needed attention by massaging it and pinching her nipple.

She hissed at the pain at first before it turned into please, leaving her craving for more. All she felt was his lips on her and that made the aching between her legs so much more evident. He left a few more kisses on her chest before he switched sides, as he wanted to taste both of them. When his tongue swirled around her nipple this time, she wasn’t able to keep her mouth shuts anymore and started to moan his name in a breathy voice. “Harry.” She looked at him, working so hard to make her feel good, and when he looked back, keeping a steady eye contact, she felt her heart picking up on speed. Instinctively, she pushed herself harder against him, making him groan onto her skin, as her warm fingers massaged circles on his scalp. “I need more.” Fast, she tugged at his curls, pulling him away from her, before she stood up. Her hands pushed him back into his chair when he tried to get up but she only shook her head. “No. Stay.” She crouched down, taking a hold of his pants and signaling him to buckle his hips up. When he did, she swiftly pulled them and his underwear down, causing his hard cock to spring against his abdomen. Y/N eyes widened by his size, as she wondered how she was able to take him in. But she didn’t let it face her, when her hand grabbed him and she begged with her eyes to continue.

He nodded. “Spit on it.” His voice sounded suddenly so deep and demanding, causing Y/N to immediately nod her head and do what she was said. Her hand started off slowly pumping up and down, as he grabbed the chair, enjoying her touch. With a longing look he watched exactly what she was doing, while he hoped he would remember everything later but he wasn’t worried that he wouldn’t. “Faster, baby.” Harry demanded and Y/N did. It had been a while since she had any interactions with a person like that but she was also certain no one would make her heart race and her pussy ache as much as Harry. Her hand picked up on speed and her other hand took the opportunity to squeeze his balls. “Fuck, Y/N.” He breathed out, as he didn’t expect her to do that. A fire simmered inside him and all he felt was her hands on him. His breathing picked up on speed, while her hands did the magic.

“Can I taste you?” She asked, looking at him with big, deer eyes. Seeing her like that, between his legs, crouched in the ground and willing to take him, made him want to bust right then and there. How was she able to be so innocent, yet so willing at the same time? It made his head spin. “Please.”

“I won’t last if you do.” And he wasn’t lying, he already felt as if he had to hold himself back. He wasn’t sure how she was able to get him this weak but it excited him knowing that she did.

“I don’t care.” She simply stated, as she picked up on more speed, jerking him off faster.

“Fuck, baby.” He moaned, closing his eyes at her unexpected action. His hand grabbed her hand, guiding it to go slower. “We got the whole night. No need to rush.” With that he let go of her hand and cupped her cheeks again, as he bent down to kiss her again. Desperately, he pulled at her lips with his teeth. “Take your panties off, angel.” He mumbled against her mouth, before placing one last kiss on her mouth.

Slowly she stood up again, swinging her hips while doing so before she pulled her panties down, making sure Harry was seeing her every movement carefully and tossing the item carelessly to the ground. He pulled her in closer again, as they’d lips reconnected again and his hands started to wander till they found what they wanted. With slow motions he rubbed circles on her clit, making sure she got even wetter than she already was. His lips went to her neck, leaving more marks behind.

“Harry, I want you now.”

“Then take me.” She didn’t have to be told twice before she sat on his lap, quickly rubbing herself against him, before guiding him inside. She had to hiss at how much he stretched her out carefully she took little bits of him at a time. His hand was rubbing her cheek, encouragingly while looking at her face. “You’re so amazing, taking me in.” Pleasure was evident for both of them as Harry wondered how she fit so perfectly around, squeezing him the right way while she couldn’t get enough at how he made her feel so full. It had taken her a few seconds before she was able to get used to his size, even though she was convinced that she’d never get used to him.

Slowly, she moved her hips, working on both of their pleasure. Moans were bouncing off of the walls, as her pace picked up on speed. An immense pleasure was shooting through her core, when all she felt was him, deeply buried inside of her. His head fell back, while she pressed her face into his exposed neck, slightly nibbling on his heated skin to suppress her moans. Her hips were keeping a steady pace, as the pleasure washed over them. “Faster. Please.” He begged in such a needy voice that made Y/N go crazy. No matter how much she liked to be taken care of, she enjoyed it, even more, to be the one in control, especially when it came to Harry who always had the upper hand. That’s why she had to drag it out as long as she could.

“What was that?” She asked teasingly, tracing the veins on his neck with her tickly finger. “I didn’t understand you.” Her voice was teasing him, showing off that she was in control, as her hips rocked back and forth in a torturing slow pace. “I’m afraid you have to say it again but louder.” The glare he gave her would have almost been lethal but she didn’t care. Instead, she stopped her movements all together, looking at him expectedly. “You have to say it or I won’t do anything.”

Her grin was bright and big, causing Harry to chuckle deeply. “It’s cute how you think you’re in charge.” Before she had a chance to register his words, he had stood up, still holding her close to him, when she wrapped her legs around him. Surprised she let out a small shriek, as her eyes widened and hands clutched on his shoulders harshly. He carried her, as if she didn’t weigh anything and easily looked into her eyes amused. He looked around, deciding where he wanted her and for a second he wanted to settle for the couch when he saw her rug and an idea popped into his head. His face came so close to hers, his breath hovering over her lips. “Let’s ruin that ugly rug.” He only said, and placed her gently on the ground, having to slide out of her, much to her dislike.

She felt empty immediately and whined. “Harry, get ba–” But he had cut her off when he pushed himself fully into her. “Fuck.” Her hands gripped his arms, which were outstretched on each side of her head and he began to thrust into her, harsher and faster than she had rode him. With each thrust the floor made a small noise but neither of them cared as they were being much louder.

“You like that?” He asked, when she closed her eyes shut by the overwhelming pleasure. She couldn’t answer and was just nodding her head, which caused Harry to smile and plant a small kiss on her forehead. “Good.” His thrusts were in a perfect rhythm and he was hitting all the nice places and she hugged his cock just the right way, as if they had been made for each other.

His thrust became stronger and faster with every thrust, making her moan his name till it echoed inside her house. “Harry.” She pushed her back forward, letting her chest collide with his. “That’s perfect.” She said, as he was hitting a brand new spot inside of her and automatically her hips started to move and meet his thrusts halfway.

“You feel amazing, baby.” He was going in and out of her so quickly, while he felt her hard nipples rubbing against him. Quickly, he sneezed his hand between her legs, as he felt him getting closer and he wanted both of them to finish tonight. In harsh circles he rubbed clit, but he never let go of his fast pace, as he was free trying closer and by the way she clenched around him, he guessed she was about to finish as well.

“Don’t stop, Harry. Don’t stop.” She cried out loud, as he was hitting the right spots inside her, making her see stars, whenever their skin met and made a loud sound. “Please, don’t stop. Please.” Seeing her beg, made his thrust get more forceful, his hand rubbing faster and giving him the strength to finish. After a few more thrust both of them felt the fire burning hot inside them, aching to be released.

“I’m about to come.”

“Come on my belly.”

“What?” He wanted to make sure he had heard her right, as he was seconds away, just like the way she was.

“Just do it, Harry!” She practically screamed when she felt her orgasm overcoming her and a wave after a wave of pleasure hitting her repeatedly, as her legs were trembling and her hands gripped onto his muscles. Seeing her cuming in his cock, gave Harry the last push and quickly he pulled himself out of her, just in time, to shoot his semen on her abdomen while he said her name. White, thick streaks were decorating her beautiful skin, like a canvas that has been painted, as both of them tried to catch their breaths. Harry let himself fall next to her, the moonlight shining on their sweaty bodies and the world quiet around them.

“God, you’re perfect.” He moaned one last time before closing his eyes. She was tracing his arm, that he had put around her, with her hand, drawing the outlines of his tattoos. It didn’t take him much longer till he fell asleep and she laid there awake.

She was tired but not tired enough to sleep yet, as she was busy admiring his sleepy state. She adorned the way his long eyelashes were resting on his cheeks and his curls fell on his forehead so perfectly. Y/N didn’t even know for how long she had been laying on the ground but once her bladder started to act up, she had gotten up by removing his arm carefully, to not wake him. The cold air was hitting her skin, when she went to the bathroom to clean herself up. It didn’t take her too long till she was back in her kitchen, dressed in new clothes while got herself something to drink, after putting a blanket over Harry’s body. As she was about to take a sip of her drink, Millie flew inside through the open window

“Hey, Millie.” Y/N greeted her. “Do you want some grasshoppers?” With soundless steps she opened ome of her cabinets, revealing a jar filled with insects. Usually, she used to for spells and always had some laying around. She opened the jar and held it towards the bat but she didn’t dive in, as she usually would, confusing Y/N. “What is it, Millie?” She asked, walking closer to her, while she was carelessly flying around. She fled around in small circles,, as if she wanted to tell Y/N something. “Do you want me to–” she didn’t finish her question as the bat clapped her wings approvingly. “–alright.” She cleared her throat. “Me intellegere et vespertilio.” This one always used to be one of her most favourite spells, as it allowed her to understand animals. Any animal she wanted even and it had opened her eyes and changed her worldview drastically, besides talking to animals was better sometimes than talking to people.

The high pitched voice rang out in her ear but she didn’t say anything Y/N had expected. “Harry, will kill you. He has killed so many more. He is a liar.” Her blood ran cold, as she stared at Millie denyingly. He wouldn’t kill her. Why would he kill her? She had helped him and they had even gotten closer to each other. It wouldn’t make sense, even if they hadn’t put their differences aside, was he that petty enough to end her life? She just couldn’t imagine him doing that.

“What?” Y/N asked but Millie didn’t answer anymore and took the cue to leave, while Y/N stood there not knowing what to think anymore. What was Millie saying?

A trembling headache started to form, her hands started shaking and even if she didn’t want to believe his familiar, her eyes started to tear up and she felt incredibly dirty. Had he used her? Would he really kill her? Her knees felt weak and somehow her throat was burning, as if she hadn’t drunk anything in a while. She was clueless on what to do. Should she just ask him? Would he even say the truth? Call her crazy? Kill her, right then and there? Should she make sure that he wasn’t going to hurt her first?  

With shaky hands, she opened her cupboards, as an idea popped in her head to coax the truth out of him.

All she needed to do was to make some tea, just the way her mother used to make, whenever she suspected that someone wasn’t telling the truth. It didn’t take much, as she only needed some chamomile flowers and some hair from a white horse.

She didn’t want to do this, she didn’t want to break his trust but she had to know if everything was a lie and Y/N was sure, she wasn’t ready for his answer, as it was obvious what it would be. Familiars didn’t lie, so there was only one outcome.

Quickly she prepared the tea, while she tried to calm herself down and not look too shaken up. Harry would see through her mask, and she couldn’t risk it. She took a few breaths in and slowly breathed the air out before she walked into the living room, seeing Harry putting on his clothes in a sleepy state. “How long have you been awak?” He asked, rubbing his eyes with his fists, while a tender smile grazed his lips. He looked so innocent, so peaceful and she couldn’t imagine him doing anything harmful to her. Was she doing the right thing? She wasn’t sure but she had to find out if Millie was saying the truth. There was no way Millie was lying, as it wouldn’t help her in any way and because familiars couldn’t lie. They were always loyal, faithful and honest. It wasn't in tgeir nature to make up lies for no reason.

“I made you some tea.” Y/N said, trying not to sound too monotone, as she tries to bite back her doubts and worries.

“Thank you, baby.” He took the hot beverage in his hands, blew some air on it before carefully taking a sip. At first it tasted like camomile but the aftertaste confused him. It tasted familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. “I can’t make out what tea it is. Wha–”

“–where did you get the blood from?”

For a second he looked at her with furrowed eyes and started at her confusedly with a startled look. Why was she asking him again? “I told you” he started, trying to remember exactly what he had said yesterday to her, so she wouldn’t be suspicious and he wouldn’t be caught in a web of lies. But his planned words never came out. “I killed her and the blood was on my clothes.” He immediately dropped the cup of tea and cupped his mouth shut. What was he saying? He tried his hardest not to tell her but it was impossible for him not to say the truth, as if an invisible power coaxes the truth out of him. And that’s when it hit him. Magic. “What did you put in my tea?”

Y/N didn’t feel like answering his questions, as she questioned everything that had happened. “How many people have you killed?”

“Four.”

“Did you want to kill me.”

“Yes.” She felt her heart break, and she swore she felt it split in half. He had used her all along and suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place. That’s why he knew where she was living, even though he didn’t have any powers; he had looked her up to master his plans. He had everything ready and she walked right into his trap.

“Why?” She dared to ask with a shallow voice.

“For a ritual to get my family back.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother and sister died and I want to resurrect them.” He finally confessed, as he leaned back tiredly. Now, all his secrets were out, just when he thought he hadn’t had to harm her.

“How did they die?”

“Fire.” He breathed slowly, picking up the tiny pieces of broken glass, to play with them carefully. “From everything that could’ve killed them, it had to be a fucking houseburn. It had to be a fucking mortal death! They could’ve done something about it but it was all too fast.” His voice rose in anger and all he saw was how his family burned in front of his eyes, while he couldn’t save them. He wasn’t there when it happened but he felt responsible because he should’ve been there. He should’ve saved them but he failed to. He had failed them.

“Harr–” Y/N tried to talk to him but he pushed her away with an invisible force, causing her back to collide with her bookshelf, knocking multiple books down. A painful yelp escaped her lips, as she tried to get up.

“They died so pathetically because someone thought it was right to still burn witches.” His eyes were cold and the warm tone in his voice was long gone. “Mortals should be happy that I don’t make every single one of them burn.” His heavy footsteps got closer to hear, causing her to crawl away scaredly.

“You didn’t have to kill them.” She tried to say, as she slowly got up, staring at the man in front of her, who had changed so drastically. What was happening? Even the Harry she swore to hate, wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have been this cold and no matter how sorry she was for his loss, she couldn’t and wouldn’t tolerate his behaviour. Everybody loses someone at some point in their lives, but it doesn’t give them any right to hurt others for selfish reasons because magic shouldn’t be used to bring more pain than it already does.

He chuckled deeply, shaking his head as if she had said something funny. “They’re worse than me. They’ve killed more people, than we know, over the past centuries.” Slowly he got closer to her, while she continued to back up till her back hit the wall. “They deserved it. My family didn’t.” And right before he was able to touch her, she ducked away from his grasp.

“Obrigescunt anathema.” She shouted, watching him not be able to move his body anymore. With tears in her eyes, a shaky voice and an hurt expression, she just blatantly stared at the stranger that she didn’t seem to know at all.

“Harry, stop it!” She was already on the floor, clutching her hand on the door frame as the tall man however over her. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth and only then she had realised that her lip was cut and tiny droplets of blood were coming out of it. But that wasn’t really one of her concerns as she felt him clutching her throat with his powers. The coward couldn’t even do it himself. He couldn’t even choke her on his own.

Her eyes were red and her face turned to a sick looking color. Just the sight of him, broke his heart and he wanted to hate her because she made him do those things to her but deep down he knew it was all his doing and he should hate anyone, then it must be him. “I never wanted to kill you. Fuck! You were the only person I tolerated and you had to be so stubborn, when I could’ve given you what you always wanted; a normal life.” His right hand was still controlling his magic while his left one went through his wild curls in frustration. Why did it have to end like this? Why her? Harry felt so stupid because when he made his plan, he thought he’d hate her. He thought he was over their short lived romance but all it took was one look at her and he turned to the stupid boy he once used to be.

“Harry, please.” She choked out, clutching her throat, as if she could peel his magic off of her, as if it were a hand. Her eyes were begging and if she had the power herself, she’d be begging more.

“Why did you have to fight me? I fucking loved you! You hear that? I love you! I don’t want to do this but you gave me no choice.” Harry rambled and when his brain processed what he had just confessed, his eyes shot wide open. He loved her. He loved her as if they were forty years younger and as if the misunderstanding never happened. Would his younger self do all this to her? Immediately, he knew the answer to that; no. So, why was he doing this now?

“I lo–”

“–no! Shut up! You don’t get to say that!” For a brief moment, he softened and he lowered the pressure on her when he understood what she tried to say. She couldn’t say those words because he knew he’d break down. “My family loved me and looked where it had gotten them. They’re dead.” Why did everyone he loved had to suffer? His mother and sister died horribly, while Y/N was about to die because of him. A humourless laugh he let out when he thought how this was an actual curse. How life was the actual curse.

“I love you.” She managed to say when he was buried in his head, and her words pulled him out of there way too fast. His heart was breaking when he heard her confess something that she shouldn’t be feeling in the first place. He was a monster and yet she still said those words. Either she tried to butter him up or she was actually crazy but either way he didn’t deserve her.

“Shut up!” His hold got stronger in her neck, as his voice sounded even more threatening than before but it didn’t last for long. “It’s already fucking hard to do this. Don’t make it harder on me.” His voice was breaking towards the end and tears escaped his lifeless eyes. For a moment they just stared at each other and Y/N was preparing herself, when her vision started to darken.

“What would your family think?” She asked with a whispery voice, and for a moment she was afraid that he hadn’t heard her but when he almost let go of her, she knew he did.  “Would your mother be happy? Or your sister?” She gasped for air, finally feeling it inside her lungs, easing the burning sensation inside them but it wasn’t enough to make her feel better and use her powers on him.

“You don’t know them.”

“But you do. So, would she?” Would his mother be proud of him if she could see him right now? Would his sister be proud if he knew what he had done to get them

Back? Would they? His hands started shaking, when he pictured their disappointed faces in front of him and when he could swear he could hear his mother’s voice, saying how much she disapproved of him, he finally broke down crying. Loud sobs escaped his mouth and Harry wasn’t sure if that was the first time he let himself feel all those emotions but he thinks that was the first time he had cried over the loss of his only family and he cried for knowing what he had done in the past few months. Who had he become?

“It’s so fucking unfair! Why did I have to lose them?” He sobbed in his hands, when his body came in contact with the cold floor.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you but it doesn’t change what you’ve done.” Even though her hand was aching to touch him, she didn’t. Instead she hoped her emphasisng her look was good enough to comfort him, even if he didn’t deserve it.“You need to leave, Harry.” He wanted to protest, grab her weak body and beg to her to not let her go. But when he saw those dark red wounds around her neck and the busted lip, he wondered how many more bruises she had gotten because of him. He closed his mouth and pressed his lips to a thin like while his tears had started to fall harder again. Why did he do this to her? Why was he so desperate to get his family back if they would hate him in the end? All he wanted was to have people in his life that loved him and the one person that did, he tried to kill her. “Maybe one day we‘ll meet again. When you’re better.” She said in a promising voice and her soft eyes bore into his, while she tried to remember the exact shade of green they were and hoping it wouldn’t be the last time, she’d get to see them. Instantly, Harry nodded his head, because that was his only goal; to get better. And, of course, to get the chance to be in her life again. “Oh, and if I hear you killing again, I‘ll kill you myself. Understood?” She was bluffing because she could never kill him but still, she tried to look as tough as possible, to look the most convincing she’s ever looked in her whole life.

Silently he stared at her with tired looking eyes and with fresh tears still streaming down his face. He knew she was doing the right thing and he didn’t deserve her but it didn’t stop his heart from aching. He wanted to hug her tightly, kiss her one last time but he couldn’t and that hurt him more than the bruises on his body did. That’s why he was determined to become the person she deserves to be with.

“Jupiter, don’t eat the tomato leaves!” Y/N shouted when she saw her cat nibbling on the white flower and the tiny leaves. With wild gestures she shushed her cat away and kneeled down on the ground to make sure that the plant was alright. It didn’t have any tomatoes yet but she knew in the late summer she could get a taste of them and she was looking forward to making fresh soup or pasta sauce, as they tasted better than the processed ones. She never understood why people loved to eat food out of cans, if they had time to use fresh ingredients and cook dishes themselves. It tasted better if it was made from scratch and, at least, she knew what she was actually eating.

Her fingers grazed one last time over the leave and she shot Jupiter a warning look, so he wouldn’t think about doing it again, when she headed back to her little pond. Her garden was finally looking good, after she finally replaced her dead plants, as spring was already in its early stages.

The sunbeams were beaming down on her, whenever they found a spot to shine through between the trees and the small noises from the animals around her, reminded her how much she had missed for everything to be this alive. Y/N loved spring because everything began to bloom, rise and overall the world just looked happier.

And she looked happier as well, now that the sun was out more often and she finally was trying to get over what had happened in late autumn last year.

Goosebumps still covered her skin and her heart stopped beating for a second when she let her mind be worried about Harry.

She wasn’t thinking of him as often now but he still occasionally haunted her thoughts, making it so hard for her to not just cave in. Y/N knew how easy it was to see what he was doing, thanks to her powers, and she knew that she shouldn’t do it. It didn’t help her get over him and she was violating his privacy.

But yet she still liked to see what he was doing.

In the beginning he looked miserable, as he had hardly gotten any sleep and didn’t think of taking care of himself properly. Those days had really made her heart break, because all she had to do was to use her pond as a mirror and she’d be with him. It was so easy for her to touch him again, to reassure him and be there for him, as he healed but she didn’t cave. Instead she watched him every once in a while and when she finally saw him improving his state, she couldn’t help herself but to feel proud. With each passing day he took a small step forward to a better life and it did not only bring her joy but also hope. She became hopeful and counted the days till he’d show up at her doorsteps to be with her, to finally face them the chance they should’ve taken when they had first met.

“Aperi oculos Ostende mihi futurum.” A small smile graced her lips when she saw his reflection in her pond again. But this time she didn’t see what he was doing right at that moment. No, she wanted to know more than how he was doing. She wanted to know how he’ll be and she had to know what the future had in store for him, for them.

An overly excited Harry was smiling from one ear to the other, exposing his dimples and bunny teeth when he was saying something that she couldn’t hear properly due to his mumbling. His hair looked longer and somehow even curlier and a beard was evident on his face. He looked older but not in a bad way at all and to see him like that made her happy. For a minute longer she watched him run up the stairs of a familiar looking house and she was about to let the reflexion float away when she saw someone.

And that someone was her.

Y/N swung her arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him into a small kiss before letting go of him, which caused Harry to pout. But she didn’t seem to be faced by his reaction as she strutted away, sitting on a small chair that was placed in the corner of the bedroom. Everything looked so awfully familiar but yet so different. But not in a bad way, as htheer house looked more like home. 

For a moment Y/N wondered whose bedroom that might be but when she saw a picture of Harry and her, framed on the nightstand, her breath hitched. Would they live together in the future?

“Harry, you smell like mud.” She Heard- her future self complain, as she scrunched up her nose and pinched her nose bridge. He had obviously working on the garden, as Y/N couldn’t do that anymore. She couldn’t even go down the stairs without being breathless and she was so glad that he helped her out so much but it didn’t give her a reason to not poke fun at him. “Go, take a shower!”

“I don’t smell like mud.” He only puffed offendedly and crossed his arms in front of his chest but Y/N could tell that he wasn’t truly upset. “It’s just the baby.” His long finger pointed to her belly.

Shocked, Y/N splashed the water away, causing the reflexion to disappear. Will she be pregnant one day? Her hand grasped her belly, that still only contained her breakfast and her organs. Could it truly be real? Her eyes wandered to her stomach, as she imagined it growing and somehow that was hard for her to do so. Not because she didn’t want any children but because her and Harry were still miles apart from being a couple, let alone being parents.

But no matter how surprised she was and how hard her heart was hammering in her ribcage and how sweaty her palms had become, she tried to hide a growing smile.

So, Harry will fight for their shared future and she’d let him back into her life. Of course she was worried about him but she knew he’d get better one day and no matter how long it’ll take him, she’ll be here, waiting for him. Everything will be alright, and that’s all she could’ve ever hoped for.