Silk || hs

Hermione Granger

"Yes, please," Alexa says quietly, looking past Harry and to Mark. Mark nods and she goes to follow him, leaving Harry and I alone in the hallway. I didn't realize just how much Alexa and Mark's presence had been doing to ease the tension between Harry and I until they disappear around that corner. Harry's back is too me still, and he looks to be thinking about what he is about to say. He takes his hand through his hair and sighs heavily, fixing his eyes on the ceiling before turning around to face me. The angry cut on his face is even worse up close, and suddenly, a thought occurs to me. What if it wasn't lipstick on Harry's face? What if those stupid flashing lights in the club distorted this rather painful-looking injury to look like what my drunk brain wanted to see.

Oh, hell. That's probably exactly what happened. I'm such an idiot; I probably fabricated this whole thing in my head. If that's the case, then this is definitely not good.

Harry's blazing green eyes bore into me with an expression of anger that I have never before seen from him. I shift my eyes away from him, entirely because I am too embarrassed of my own actions to begin to make an excuse.

"Camryn," Harry begins, his voice low and controlled. "We'd better go somewhere else."

Oh, shit. He's not a yeller when he's angry; he's the silent type.

I nod in response, and in turn, Harry sighs frustratedly as he brushes past me and leads me down the hallway. He distractedly glances around before stopping in front of a door and opening it, allowing me to pass through before him. It is quite obviously a storage room, and though I know it is an entirely inappropriate thought to have, I can't help but imagine having a really steamy make-out session with Harry in here like the characters in Grey's Anatomy.

Harry pulls me out of my poorly-timed daydream as he shuts the door and calmly leans against it with his hands clasped behind him. Several moments pass in silence between us, and I find that my heart rate has skyrocketed. I wish he would just get this over with and reprimand me. That would be better than this anxiety-filled silence; at least then, I would know exactly what he is mad at me for. There are a lot of reason he could be angry, so I'd be better off not revealing the things he doesn't know about.

Because hiding things from him is going to make this better, my conscience remarks sarcastically, and I can't help but roll my eyes. I know it's not right to hide things from him, but I'm really embarrassed and ashamed, so it's definitely the easiest way to go about this right now.

"Camryn, would you care to explain to me why you thought it necessary to punch John in the face?" Harry finally asks, and my eyes widen in surprise. Of course he knows about that; he probably saw it. But then again, if he knows about me hitting John, how could he not know the reason for it?

"He– well, he was being an asshole," I admit vaguely, not wanting to get Harry all angry. If he knew what John really did, I think he might go off.

Harry rolls his eyes and scoffs, "Yeah, I know. I've been telling you that for weeks, but you've never listened to me. I just thought you were more mature than to literally fight him."

Wow, okay, that kind of pisses me off. I was sexually assaulted, and Harry is insulting my maturity. I'm not going to get mad, though. We'll calmly discuss it like adults.

"You can't just go around punching people when they piss you off," Harry continues, his calm and steady voice raising just a little bit. "I would know, it never ends well."

Does he now?

"Is that how you got that cut on your face?" I ask him accusingly, and Harry looks at me, clearly annoyed. I swear, if he has the nerve to sass me about fighting someone when he has this giant-ass battle scar on his face, then I'm going to fuck shit up.