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25TH DECEMBER 1995
AT FIRST, HARRY DIDN'T KNOW what tothinkwhen he woke up early in the morning and found himself not in his own bed—or at least guest bedroom. There was faint breathing that either came from him or the spot next to him, the sun shining through the window on his skin and he had to blink several times to regain his memory of the day before.
Then he had to blink again to remember his glasses, his vision was blurry and he only saw unclear darkish colours in the room.
Harry fished for his glasses blindly, before it was handed to him abruptly.
Right, he thought lighthearted as his eyes finally rested on the feminine figure next to him, sitting up slightly and reading a book as if he wasn't there, I slept in her room last night.
The thought made him feel warm. He didn't think he'd be this comfortable with her two years ago, but right now the sight of her only caused his heart to race in a way that didn't feel like anxiety.
"Hi," Harry managed to get out, rubbing his eyes as he turned on his back with a sigh.
"It's ten am," Athena said without looking up from whatever she was reading. "And you talk in your sleep, you know that?"
She said this as though she hadn't spend more than just one night next to him while he was asleep, as though this information was something entirely new to her.
"What did I say?" Harry asked her curiously, moving closer to her drowsily until his head dropped down to her side. "Did you hear me having a nightmare about you?"
Athena turned her head to the side and looked down on him, flicking him on the head with the point finger, "Shut up."
"It's a bit blurry now but I think I can recall you as the star guest," he couldn't bring himself to stop, blinking up to her in innocence. "Athena Black, mastermind and mass murderer. A trait that lays in the family, according to the Daily Prophet."
"Don't make me hurt you, Potter."
He grinned at her, looking up to her with light eyes. The thought that it was Christmas was far in the back of his mind right now, he couldn't think so hard with the sight of her startling grey eyes staring down at him.
Harry didn't know when exactly it happened, but at one point he started to love the way her gaze turned to him—steely and fierce. In contrast to the rest of her face sometimes, her eyes sang tunes to him. He wasn't sure if the rest of the world saw them the way he did, but he didn't know if he wanted it to anyway.
Harry hesitated for a moment, cheeks reddening when he realised his arm was about to move over her stomach where a hint bare skin was showing, "Um, do you mind...?"
