Boyfriend
The moonlight was even brighter.
Queenie, holding the flowers, tilted her head in confusion. Something seemed off about Harry's face. He looked too—too young?
She stepped forward, wanting to get a closer look.
Harry took the bouquet of orchids from her arms. Queenie liked it, but they were standing too close and might crush the flowers.
Then, Harry finally got a good look at Queenie's green dress. The color made her skin appear exceptionally fair, and she had a mole on her chest, just below her collarbone, which Harry couldn't see clearly but looked slightly reddish.
Merlin, she is so beautiful.
“Harry, why do you look—several years younger?” she asked again, her doubts rising. “Am I not awake?”
...and very smart.
Hermione's biological clock made her wake up promptly at 6:30.
She was dazed for a moment, then suddenly realized that she was in Blake's old house, and immediately jumped off the bed and ran downstairs.
Only Harry and Ron were in the dining room.
Ron swallowed a bite of fried egg, and was about to explain the current situation to Hermione when she spoke first, "You two actually got up earlier than me?"
“…Last night, after Professor Lupin and Tonks knocked us out with a Stunning Charm, Harry and the Order of the Phoenix went to the Ministry of Magic for a fierce battle with the Death Eaters. Oh, and Voldemort showed up too. In the end, the Order of the Phoenix won. They celebrated all night and didn’t leave until almost dawn. Then Harry told Queenie that he was very irritable, and—” Ron said in one long sentence, “Although you didn’t ask, but—you’re welcome.”
Hermione was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information and took three seconds to exclaim, "What?!"
“Look, same reaction as me.” Ron shrugged at Harry.
Harry silently got up and went to the kitchen to bring Hermione her breakfast. Ron pulled out a chair next to him, gesturing for her to sit down. "Harry made breakfast. He picked out the prettiest piece from a dozen or so fried eggs and toast and saved it for Queenie, but she doesn't want to see him right now, so—"
“Well, one thing at a time.” Hermione sat down, roughly smoothing her messy hair. “Harry, you and Queenie have come clean? Everything?”
Harry nodded dejectedly. "She told me to leave; she wanted to be alone for a while."
Hermione tried to comfort him as always, "That's all? She didn't yell at you or slap you or anything?"
“Hey Hermione! Harry’s already upset enough!” Ron whispered to her as he turned his head.
“No… Actually, the wizarding part was fine, but when Queenie asked me if I had lied to her about anything else, I answered yes.” Harry rubbed his hair hard. “I forgot about my age—I swear I didn’t mean to—anyway, Queenie found out that she seemed to be less accepting of my age than my wizarding identity.”
Oh… actually, Hermione can understand. Look at how clingy they are! They even danced the tango with their tongues in front of her and Ron—thinking about it made her blush—who knows what they're like in private! Queenie has always wanted to pounce on Harry, but then she suddenly finds out he's actually not even sixteen yet. No wonder she can't accept it, at least not so soon.
Ron took a bite of toast. "Honestly, I don't understand why Queenie is even angrier about this. If I ever found out my girlfriend was seven years younger, I'd be laughing in my sleep."
“Oh really?” Hermione looked at him coldly. “So Ronald Weasley now wants to date a nine-year-old girl.”
Nine years old? Ron shuddered at the thought. "That's not what I meant! But Harry isn't that much younger than her, only two years..."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, I remember you said that Queenie was the one who started talking to you at first?"
Harry nodded nervously.
"So maybe Queenie originally liked mature men, and perhaps she found you a bit childish during her interactions with you, but that doesn't mean she could accept you without any reservations when she found out you were basically a child!"
Will Queenie not accept him?
Harry felt heartbroken just thinking about it.
"Fortunately, she didn't hit or yell at you on the spot, otherwise, given her personality, you wouldn't have been able to come out unscathed. I think she needs some time."
“Hermione’s right!” Unlike him, who just kept repeating “It’s okay, relax,” but he was still quite useful. All those imperfect toasts and eggs Harry made ended up on his plate, otherwise they would have gone to waste, Ron thought.
"By the way, the potions paper is due today. Have you two written it yet?"
Harry, "..."
Ron, "..."
“Great. I have some parchment left over from summer vacation in my room. I’ll watch you two write after breakfast, and tell me in detail what happened yesterday.” Hermione spread some strawberry jam on her toast. “What about Queenie’s breakfast? Should I take it up to her? I can also chat with her while I’m at it; some things are easier for girls to talk about.”
"Hermione, have you forgotten that we both lied to Queenie too, back at the museum?"
Hermione paused, oh Merlin.
"Don't worry, Harry, I'll put in a good word for you." Sirius, who had appeared at the dining room door at some point, casually picked up a slice of toast from Ron's plate. "This reminds me of the days when I helped James woo Lily. It brings back so many memories!"
Harry, “…” Maybe it’s not the worst idea for him to go and deliver it.
Compared to wizards who only exist in fairy tales and fantasy novels, Harry's real age really shocked Queenie. She lay back on the bed with a headache, wrapped herself in the blanket, and turned to her side to clear her mind.
What happened today?
She went to Emily's birthday party, and on her way home, she was attacked by a strange man. Then, she was suddenly saved by a giant foot that transformed into Sirius. Sirius instantly transported her to a horror movie location, where she didn't have time to watch much before vomiting and fainting—she arrived there as if she had been pulled and spun around by a hook. When she woke up, she met Harry, who said he wasn't a sailor, but a wizard, as they were. He even conjured up a bouquet of orchids for her.
What happened next?
Oh right, so Harry is younger than me...
So all that flirting, eye contact, teasing, tugging, kissing, touching… it was all done to a fifteen-year-old boy… ah?! What did she do?! She was even surprised by Harry's innocence, when he was clearly a seasoned pro!!
Queenie gritted her teeth, her anger rising suddenly. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.
She smelled Harry again.
This bed probably belongs to Harry.
It's so pathetic. She wore the perfume Harry gave her almost every day; she knew his scent like the back of her hand. Now that I think about it, it was probably something magical, not from some mysterious Egypt at all!
However, those feelings of being moved, attracted, intimate, hugging, entwined, and entangled are not fake. At fifteen years old, it's not surprising to fall in love.
Queenie tried hard to recall what she was doing when she was fifteen; if she remembered correctly, she was figuring out how to pursue Kent.
Okay, let's look at it another way. She was Harry's first girlfriend, and her would definitely be Harry's first time too.
Wait, he had his first love before he was even fifteen? And he was quite popular? While she could only pitifully rely on her phone to contact the boyfriend she thought was far away at sea who couldn't even show up for her birthday, he was busy being popular at school?
Queenie's temper flared up again.
Sirius, holding a plate in one hand and an orchid in the other, stopped at Harry's door. Before he could decide whether to knock with his head or his foot, the door suddenly opened.
Queenie was still wearing that green dress. The once smooth satin dress had many wrinkles after she had slept, and its disheveled appearance was just like its owner's mood.
“Uh, Sirius?” She wasn’t quite sure what to call him, “Bigfoot?”
“Choose whichever you like.” Sirius smiled politely and handed her the flowers. “Harry asked me to bring these to you.”
“Thank you…” Queenie was momentarily stunned by that overly handsome smile. “Thank you for saving me too. Um… where’s Harry?”
“He’s doing his homework.” Sirius’s gentlemanly manner lasted only a second. “Potentials homework, huh! What teacher, besides that annoying snotty-nosed devil, would assign homework during OWLs exams? And set a deadline of one day after the exam? If he were Voldemort’s professor, he probably wouldn’t have time to mess around with the wizarding world!”
Queenie didn't even have time to think about what the snotty-nosed guy, the OWLs exam, or Voldemort's homework was... How unsurprising!
...Oh, no wonder he described his homework as a nightmare.
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