𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── ʜ.ᴊ.ᴘ

13: 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾.*

Harry felt drool travel down to his chin as he stared at her.

"Well?" said Y/n, glaring at him. "Are you going to come in or are you just going to stand there drooling at me?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Harry wiped the drool with his sleeve as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"This is the last time I'm ever going to let you shower with me," she huffed, turning around to walk away — only to be pulled back by Harry.

"Better make it a memorable shower then," Harry muttered in her ear, hands travelling down to caress her thighs. "What do you think, love?"

⚡︎⚯⚡︎

Y/n woke up the next morning, feeling all stressed about the upcoming match against the Gryffindors. She wanted to win, yes, and she hoped that Chester would be able to go against Harry.

Feeling movement beside him, Harry awoke and sat up, eyes following the girl who was currently getting dressed in her Quidditch uniform.

"Love?" he called, voice was groggy and raspy as he rubbed his eyes whilst his hand tried to search for his glasses. Once he had them on, he blinked a couple of times to adjust to the sunlight before turning to face Y/n, who was now tying her boots up. "It's a bit too early to be getting changed. We still have a few hours."

"I know but I'm just a bit nervous," she replied, looking into the mirror as she tried to tie her (h/c) coloured hair up.

Signing, Harry shoved the blanket off of him. He got out of the bed and picked up a shirt from the floor before walking over to where Y/n was, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

"You don't have to be so nervous," said Harry, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek as well as on her temple. "You've played Quidditch multiple times before against Gryffindor. What are you worried more about? Losing or being concerned that Ainsworth won't be able to beat me to the Snitch?"

Y/n let out a soft chuckle. "Most probably both. Although I am more afraid of the fact of you shoving Chester off of his broom."

Harry's eyes lit up. "You know what? That's actually a wonderful thing to do! Thanks for the suggestion, darling."

Before she could stop him, Harry was already picking up the clothes on the floor and shoving them into the laundry basket.

"Harry, no—"

"Harry, yes," he said as he got his Quidditch uniform out of the walk-in closet.

A few hours later, Y/n had found herself in the Great Hall eating breakfast. She sat in between Daphne and Chester whilst Draco and Blaise sat in front of them.

The other four seemed to have noticed Y/n's distracted state as she kept on scanning the area for something or someone.

"Y/n," said Daphne, placing a hand on Y/n' shoulder. "Are you alright? You keep on looking around the Hall like some lunatic."

"Huh?" Y/n hummed before shaking her head. "Oh, yeah — I'm — er — fine, I guess."

No, she wasn't.

It had been thirty whole minutes since Harry had told her that he'd meet her in the Great Hall, he wasn't there yet.

"You go ahead," said Harry as he put his Quidditch sweater on. "I'll meet you in the Hall."

Hesitant, Y/n walked towards the door. "Are you sure?" she asked him.

"I'll be fine. I just have something to do."