Moments | hs au

six

"So, where'd you get those binders?" he asks with his mouth full. I wince, cursing at myself for not hiding them properly. He has never been one to get upset about stuff like this, but I am in no mood of discussing about my day with Harry.

"From a friend," I answer briefly.

He raises his eyebrows at my response and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The half-eaten burger is left abandoned on the table as his full attention merges onto me, "You have a friend?" he speaks in disbelief.

I shrug my shoulders at him and cross my arms, "Don't say it like it's such a bad thing."

"It's not that Charlotte," a smile replaces his look of utter shock, "You've just, well, you've just never mentioned any friends before."

"It's not that big of a deal," I start, my feet slowly shuffling on the wood. I assume that he he senses my discomfort, and his eyes soften. He chuckles and picks up the burger again.

"Okay then," he smiles at me one last time and takes another bite of his food. I breath a sigh of relief, knowing that that was his signal of the conversation coming to an end. I bring the binders to my chest and make a quick dash to my bedroom, already aware of what I would be spending the rest of night doing.

ஐ

"Charlotte, sweetie, wake up," I hear my father's voice call out to me. I feel a hand shaking my shoulder gently, and I allow my eyes to flutter open. My vision starts off blurry as I lift my head, but by the way my joints are aching, it's obvious that I did not fall asleep in my bed. I blink a couple of times, and finally regain my eyesight.

My arms lie crossed on my desktop, on top of one of Harry's binders. Many pictures are scattered around me, and my dad eyes me worriedly. I sit up slowly in my chair, simpering slightly as last nights events start to flood through my memories. I must have spent hours looking through Harry's binders, but I don't regret one moment of the time spent.

"Did you sleep here all night?" He asks, looking down at the mess.

"I uh-" I yawn loudly, stretching out my sore muscles before starting to push the pictures back in there place, "I guess I did."

He shakes his head, and peels off a picture stuck on my cheek. I swat his hand away tiredly, unaware that the picture was even stuck there.

"So this 'friend' of yours just gave these to you?" He looks over the photos and back up to my tired gaze. I yawn again, not completely aware of what was even going on. I stand up and stretch my arms once more.

"Yea, he did," I state normally, putting the rest of the photos back into the binders.

"'He'!?" It's as if my fathers eyes enlarge on the spot.

I turn away from him, squeezing my eyes shut at my idiocy. The unadorned pronoun slipped out uncontrollably, and now I'm surely going to pay for it. I casually turn back around to face him, and I'm met with a gaping jaw.

"Yes he." I annunciate the word as if it's not a problem, grabbing the binders on my desk in the process. I purposely avoid his stunned stature and place them on my shelf, his eyes glued to my every move.

I pull my bed head out of its pony tail and grip the elastic with my teeth, but stop as I feel his eyes continuing to stare me down. I tilt my head at him and groan.