41. Web of Truths

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I woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming through the blinds, and an unexpected heat source pressed to me. Harry's head was against my stomach, his arms were wrapped around my hips and he was breathing softly.

I wondered at what point in the night he'd come to my room, but the thought got lost in quiet comfort as I closed my eyes again, content to not move a muscle.

When I woke up the second time, he was gone, and I had to wonder if I'd imagined the whole thing. My entire body felt like it was missing something, it wasn't a good feeling. 

The memories from the night before came flooding back, and for a few quiet seconds, I contemplated what I should do. Almost subconsciously, I found myself getting out of bed, in search of some pants. I brushed my teeth and braided my hair, getting it out of my face for the first time in days. Under the shag carpet by my dresser were the club photos, hidden but not forgotten, a reminder of how this all started in the first place.

I took a deep breath and exited the room.

Padding down the stairs, I looked for any sign of life, and found none.

But I smell coffee, I realized gladly.

It wasn't until I was in the kitchen that the soft music could be heard and I found Harry, shirtless, cooking bacon with his back to me. 

I stood for a moment, soaking up the image.

"I was expecting to see Helga..." I admitted, causing him to turn. I had to force my eyes up to meet his.

"I gave her the day off." He sent me a little grin.

"That was nice of you." I said, sounding overly formal.

"Mm, did you sleep well?"

"Considering I had a visitor?" His eyebrow twitched.

"Who was the visitor?" Harry asked with a smirk, grabbing the fork off the counter and flipping a piece of bacon. His natural charisma made it easy to imagine sweeping everything under the rug, but I couldn't do that.

"Good question, I was trying to figure that out myself." I reached for a coffee cup to distract myself from staring at him. "Was it the Harry who lied to me over something really big, and withheld intimate photos of me?" His chin dropped down as I attempted to convey my hurt and anger. He was listening.

"Or..." A slight perk in his attention, and his eye met mine cautiously. "Was it the Harry who chose to help a total stranger, and has done everything possible to keep her safe." As my anger relinquished just a little, the space inside me was replaced by a magnetic force pulling me in Harry's direction. I fought it off.

Harry sighed and leaned against the counter. "I went to bed hours after you last night." He tapped his fingers on the countertop. "Couldn't sleep. When I walked by your room, you were... talking. I knocked and got no answer, so I opened the door. You were talking in your sleep. It was obvious you were restless, so I stayed." His translucent stare was burning a hole through my icy exterior faster than I could rebuild it. "Which Harry does that sound like?" 

The question was rhetorical, but his gravelly voice was thick with sincerity.

I realized, despite my anxious thoughts, I'd had no nightmares... I blinked away the forgiveness I was so close to giving.

"And... is it still worth your time?" I held my breathe as his words from the night before gave him pause.

"Last night... I said some things." He acknowledged. "I was angry. I woke up and you were gone, and then when I texted you, hours later, you didn't respond." His demeanor cooled off as he spoke, but I just listened, "It took ten seconds to locate that cellphone and the fear I felt driving towards it... only to find you drunk with Dawson and his loser friends, ignoring me... I didn't deserve that."

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