Backpack ➳ h.s [au]

chapter 7

posted a picture of harry

lord hes so attractive

-

"Sit down." The old woman holds out her hand motioning towards the seats in front of her small desk.

I was expecting to see a crystal ball of some sort, but the only thing on her desk were scattered papers and pencils. A few sticky notes with notes clung to the wood, too.

Harry and I took our seats, with him getting a bit more comfortable in his chair than I am since he brings his ankle to rest on his exposed knee from his ripped jeans. The old woman clears her throat, and Harry looks up immediately changing his position.

"You've got five minutes, kids."

Harry nods while resting his bag on his lap and digging his large hand inside of it. Seconds later he pulls out a sheet of crumpled paper.

"This...this is her suicide note," he hands it to the woman and she takes it in her wrinkled hands. While her eyes scan over the paper, Harry intently watches her face expression twist into a look of slight sorrow.

"We came here three years ago, in the month of May I believe. Do you think you can pull up a file of some sort?" he scrunches up his eyebrows as his focus is on the old woman across from us.

She hands Harry the note, and nods gently before standing to look through multiple drawers in her desk.

"I keep records on people whom I find will have a tragic incident like this one," her tired eyes search through files as she takes some out, only to put them down.

"Do you think you can find it?" Harry eagerly asks. I can tell that he cares more than he claims to. And from what I can tell, he probably still loves her dearly. When she died, it had been years ago so the tragedy could still be fresh on his mind.

"Be patient, dear. I'm old, and forgetful at times, but i'm sure I will come across it. It's very rare when people come in, considering we have nearly gone out of business."

For minutes we watch the old woman search cabinets high and low, files here and there, until finally she reaches a manilla colored file that she keeps her eyes locked on.

"Gabrielle Moore," she reads out loud.

Harry's eyes advert to the paper in her hands, to me, and then back to the woman.

"That's her."

She nods before going on. "Many wrong things will go on throughout the rest of your life. Loved ones will die, your heart will break, and you will not be at ease. Soon, your mind will control your every next move. Letting yourself take over, can lead to eternal sleep. Think wisely."

"Loved ones," Harry brings up, understanding bits and pieces at a time. "Her mother died. They were very close."

"Can I see that?" he asks the woman and she gives up the file, so that Harry is able to hold it in his own hands. I notice that he's almost trembling, so I fix my hand over his own and he looks up, giving me a half smile.

"Look, Bonnie," he points to a symbol on the sheet of paper attached to the file. "That's the medal! The one I found in her hand when..." He trails off.

I'm shocked completely when I recognize that same symbol he had shown me.

Harry fumbles through his backpack before taking out the same silver metal with the strange symbol engraved into it. Without hesitation, he shows the old woman the circular metal, running his long fingers along it in thought.

"How did you know to draw that on here?" he asks her.

Her eyes widen, mouth slightly agape. "Sometimes I have dreams that...that result in certain symbols and signs appearing. I have no choice but to write them down, and the night Gabrielle came to me, I guess it came out naturally."

"It means death," she adds, her eyes slightly flickering to the floor.

Harry nods, his curls brushing across his cheek in the process.

Without warning, the old woman reaches across from her spot behind the desk and snatches up the file in Harry's hands. "I'm sorry for your loss, you two, but I have to get closing up soon."

"Right," Harry looks to me before standing up himself to his full towering height. "Thank you."

And with that, we were out the door.

-

"That woman was strange," he scratches his eyebrow while chewing the last slice of his second orange.

We were now sat in his small apartment, knowing that we had missed that day of the university. Harry had claimed that we hadn't miss anything important, and I believed him although I knew Crystal would be worrying about me somewhere somehow. And I know Niall was probably weirded out after he discovered that I wasn't outside the bathroom anymore.

"She really was." I say, watching him for a second. There seemed to be a hint of sadness in his eyes since we visited the place, although he's always seemed this way. Now, though, he seemed a little more in front of me.

While we were sat on the couch with the tv running, Harry sighed loudly and brought his head back against the back of the couch cushion, making his long hair flop across his forehead. He reluctantly ran his orange-smelling fingers through his hair before running him across his face.

"Your hair probably smells like oranges now," I bring some humor into this conversation, trying my hardest to make him smile- and I succeed.

His dimpled smile turns into a small one and he looks at me, "I should probably wash my hands."

"Sounds like a good idea."

After Harry had washed his hands with grape-smelling soap, no doubt he was fruit boy, he came back into the living room and was about to sit on the couch again before he stopped himself.

"What?" I ask him, confused.

"Have you ever had a home cooked meal before?"

I purse my lips. "Well, yeah. My mom made meals for us all the time."

He laughs goofily, dimples prominent in his cheeks, before holding out a long finger. "Okay, let me re-phrase that. Have you ever had a Harry Styles' home cooked meal before?"

"Sounds interesting. Don't think I have."

He claps his hands together before setting down his backpack against the wall.

"Well stay tuned, Luna. You're in for a treat."

-

i feel like i should update this story more

sorry

ily