Serpent| H.S.

Club.

As I leave the club to wait outside, I see two men fighting. I normally wouldn't get involved, but Harry was one of the guys. He was clearly wasted and could barely hold his own. I pull out a knife telling the guy to bugger off.

"I didn't need your fucking help!" He fumes.

"You were about to get your ass beat, some fighter you are," I huff.

"I could still beat you," he smirks, and I roll my eyes. There's no point in arguing with him in this drunken state.

Harry falls to the ground mutter something I didn't understand. I help him up on his feet. My Uber comes just in time as I drag Harry inside the car.

"Is he alright?" The man asks, looking at Harry's bloody face.

"Yeah, he will be." I grab a couple of wipes from my purse and clean up the blood around his nose and lip.

Once we arrive at headquarters, I assist Harry upstairs to his bedroom. Before we make it to the second floor, Harry starts ranting about random things. I didn't pay no mind to him until he said, "you're a great fighter Amira. Have I ever told you that?"

"No, the quite the opposite, actually."

"Well, you are. Sorry I'm hard on you, I th-think you have p-potential," he stutters. I don't know if I should take his words seriously since he's drunk. But then again, they say you speak your true feelings when you're drunk.

"Okay." I didn't know what to say.

We make it to his room, and I help him get into bed. Before I leave, Harry grabs my hand and pulls me in closer to him.

"Stay, please," he begs.

"I can't, Harry. Now go to sleep."

"No! Stay with me!" He pouts and pulls me on the bed with him. I've never seen him act this way. He's always cold and collected, but when drunk, he's completely different. I find it actually adorable. Wait, what am I saying. He's still an asshole.

"Harry, you need to let go of me," I say, trying to get out of his hold. His eyes meet mine for a moment, and my heart races, realizing how close we are. I'm practically laying on him.

"Did I ever tell you that you're beautiful, Amira?"

He starts to lean in, but I roll off the bed, bruising my bottom in the process.

"Uh Harry, I'll talk to you in the morning. Goodnight," I rush. He doesn't say another word, and I finally leave his room.

Exhausted from all today's events, I immediately fall asleep soon as my face hits my pillow. In the morning, well, more like afternoon, I make my celery juice, and my head hurts from the juicer's sound. With this hangover, I don't see myself doing much of anything today.

Harry groans, making his way into the kitchen. I wonder if he remembers what he said to me last night. He grabs a brown drink that looks like puke from the fridge and chugs it.

"What is that?" I cringe.

"My homemade hangover remedy. A cup of this stuff and you're hangover is just a tiny headache. Do you want some? I made enough for two."

It really doesn't look all that tasty. And I have no idea what's in it. However, I really hate hangovers.

"Um, what's in it?"

"It's best if you didn't know?"

Now that is concerning.

"I think I'll pass."

He shrugs, putting the rest back in the fridge and starts to make himself breakfast. He offers to make me an omelet too, and I accept. He's overly nice to me, and it's a little concerning.  While we eat breakfast, Heather stumbles into the front door. Did she just get home?

"Please be quiet and don't bother me for the rest of the day," she snaps, going to her room.

"It's 2 pm. Does she usually party this long?"

"No, only like once or twice a month. She says it helps her release all her stress."

How does she have the energy to party for so many hours. I'd give up after two.

"Oh, I thought about what you said yesterday, and I'll teach you archery."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not. We'll start tomorrow morning, alright." I nod, so excited to learn.

"So Harry, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Um, everything, after you threw that drink in my face, is a blur. Did I do something embarrassing?" Unease rest on his face. I assume he's done a couple of things he's not proud of when he was drunk.

"No, I was just wondering if you remember getting in that fight," I lie.

"I'd figure when I saw the contusions on my face and knuckles."

So he doesn't remember what he told me last night. It's probably for the best. It would've been awkward between us. However, it's good to know that Harry doesn't actually hate me. I guess him being rude is his way to make me stronger and push me to be better. And that is something I can respect.

❖❖❖❖❖
Kinda of a weird chapter. Anyways keep voting and commenting for more!!

Ily❦