Cute and kisses
Harry knew his studies had never been particularly good, and compared to Hermione, his only real skill seemed to be Defense Against the Dark Arts. But recently, the vocabulary he'd been hearing was terrifyingly unfamiliar, making him start to doubt whether he'd learned anything truly useful at school—he meant in terms of fighting Voldemort. Was he only relying on armor and Excalibur? Oh, and if it were nighttime, he could at least use Flurryton to see Voldemort's location.
Thankfully, Umbridge only taught them for a year; otherwise, having a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook to deal with Voldemort would have been worse than using the Bible.
In short, the Deathly Hallows? The Elder Wand? Horcruxes? What are all these things? He bet even Hermione wouldn't know about Horcruxes!
“Hmm—Horde…?" Harry repeated the word with difficulty. “Did you coin that word?” Then he realized it was probably related to Voldemort’s weakness. “Voldemort coined that word?”
“I’ve only heard about it before today,” Sirius said gravely. “Simply put, a Horcrux is an object that contains a fragment of a person’s soul.”
Queenie understood. "You mean, he split his soul?"
“Excellent, split soul, as expected of him.” Harry’s mind went blank, and his mouth was out of control. “So, how many Voldemors do we need to fight?”
"There's no need to be so pessimistic—we believe he split at least twice."
Harry gasped.
"The diary that appeared when you were in second year, and the Slytherin locket that was found today—" Sirius paused for a moment when he said this, then briefly talked about the locket, and finally said, "Once Dumbledore confirms some things, the guess about the number of Horcruxes will be more accurate."
"..." Harry's lips were already numb from the cold, at least twice. Who can say that splitting them a hundred times doesn't count as at least twice?
Sirius patted his godson warrior's not-so-robust shoulder. "I'm not trying to comfort you, but you really don't need to overcomplicate this. Splitting a soul is not an easy thing. Even once is incredible—I have to say it's incredibly foolish. You know, a wizard's power depends on the integrity of his soul."
"So we should thank him for being stupid, right? Given that he deliberately lowered the difficulty? After all, he's already very difficult to defeat after his soul splits," Harry said dryly.
Queenie couldn't resist pinching Harry's cheek. Oh my god, he's so cute! If Voldemort were willing to take the time to get to know him, he might just laugh himself to death one day.
Sirius laughed loudly, "From an inspiring perspective, I will convey the words of the savior to everyone in the Order of the Phoenix!"
Sirius finished giving his instructions and left, forcing the Order of the Phoenix to hold an emergency meeting that very night.
Harry immediately shared the secret with his friends; he wasn't the only one devastated.
Hermione and Ron replied to the message quickly.
"Merlin, aren't you going to let me sleep in peace tonight?!"
"I'm sorry, Harry, I've been having some eye strain lately at night, so I didn't see what you were saying."
Since cell phones couldn't handle multiple people at once, Harry contentedly exchanged a few text messages with the two equally shocked and flustered individuals, and then arranged to meet the next day.
"It's late, are you going home? To your aunt's house?"
“No, Sirius isn’t here tonight. I’ll stay with you.” Harry put down his phone and looked at Queenie, who had already changed her clothes and was getting ready to wash up while he was contacting his friends.
A nightgown, but not champagne-colored.
Queenie kicked off her slippers, nimbly jumped onto the sofa next to him, and asked, "What about your protective magic?"
The warmth and fragrance wafted over, and Harry instantly forgot about all those Souls and artifacts. He tightened his grip on his fingers and calmly said, "There's protective magic here too."
"Where are your pajamas? You took them back to your aunt's house, didn't you? What are you wearing tonight? The Emperor's New Clothes?"
"Then I'll put on the invisibility cloak again."
"No."
“Then I’ll wear your T-shirt. What can I do? I’m about the same height as you now,” Harry said sullenly, picking at his fingers unhappily.
Queenie laughed. "Carry me upstairs."
Harry always listened to her; he let Queenie sit in his lap and struggled to his feet.
"And my slippers."
Harry then put one arm around her lower back and reached for her pink slippers with the other.
Queenie leaned on Harry's shoulder, swinging her legs, her soft, white skin constantly brushing against his nerves.
What happened last time they slept together... what if something else happens this time...? But he only just learned about the existence of Horcruxes... the scene changed too quickly and he's not used to it... wait a minute, or rather, he's adapted well... he's even forgotten how to pronounce Horcruxes!
When Harry finished washing up and pulled back the bed curtains, Queenie was still on her phone—she was chatting with Emily.
Harry slowly wrapped himself around the bed curtains, trying to recall how the day had started.
Oh, a kiss.
Harry breathed out a soft breath; it smelled of fresh strawberries. He had secretly used some of Queenie's toothpaste.
After finally getting the bed curtains in order, Harry turned around and saw that Queenie had already put down her phone and lifted the covers on his side. "Come in, let's talk."
How about starting with a chat? That works too.
He squeezed into the soft bed, assuming Queenie was trying to comfort him or something—given that his nemesis had undergone countless mitotic divisions—or amitosis? Is that the word?
"Let's talk about Sirius."
ah?
“I felt something was off about him,” Queenie said, recalling carefully. “You remember him mentioning Slyth—”
Harry instinctively reminded him, "Slytherin."
"Hmm, do you remember the look on his face when he mentioned the Slytherin locket?"
He doesn't remember that he was so focused on inhaling that he was actually taking a deep breath.
“I think he’s hiding something,” Queenie concluded.
Harry displayed the optimism expected of a Gryffindor, straightening his back abruptly. "The Horcrux thing was a hoax!"
Queenie scratched the top of his head. “Well, I like your strength. But I mean, Sirius didn’t tell the whole truth about the locket story, maybe it was about himself.” She struggled to find a word to describe it. “I think he was a little sad… no, not quite right… confused? That’s probably it.”
"Okay... I'll ask him again tomorrow."
“Hmm.” Queenie shrank deeper into the covers and then asked about the part that interested her, “Sirius mentioned a name, Kreacher?”
“It’s a house-elf from House Black.” Harry also lowered his head, turning to face Queenie.
"How come I didn't see it when I was there?"
"Sirius doesn't want it to appear before you; it's...very hostile to all non-pure-blooded wizards."
"I remember house-elves are servants of wizards?"
"Oh, there are always one or two mavericks."
Harry then began to recount how he was "saved" by Dobby in his second year, which Queenie listened to with great interest.
"Hahaha! You've run into a 'hitting willow'—does it really hit people?"
"Quite proficient, it ruined Mr. Weasley's car and Ron's wand, as well as my Nimbus 2000."
“It’s really powerful to be able to break a car.” Queenie yawned. “Turn off the lights, Harry, it’s time to sleep.”
"..."
Harry did as he was told, and Queenie snuggled up to him, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "Goodnight, Harry."
"……good evening."
The surroundings quieted down, and the red velvet curtains blocked out the faint light, leaving the bed curtains completely dark.
Harry waited quietly for a while.
Why didn't Queenie kiss him?
Harry couldn't help but move his arm, eliciting a soft groan from Queenie. "What's wrong, darling?"
"Queenie..."
"Um?"
"How could you..."
"What?" Queenie opened her eyes. It was too dark for her to see anything, except for the faint breath of Harry's breathing, which smelled like strawberries, which she loved.
Why didn't you kiss me?
Queenie regained some of her senses.
Once the first sentence was uttered, the subsequent accusations flowed more smoothly: "You didn't kiss me all day," he emphasized.
Queenie chuckled and offered evidence, "I remember kissing you this morning?"
"You only kissed my cheek, that doesn't count at all."
“Darling.” Queenie groped her way closer, tilting her head up. She guessed she was less than half an inch from Harry. “I’m assuming you remember you hurt your nose this morning?”
“I’m not afraid of pain,” Harry said firmly, determined to get Queenie’s kiss, even though she had wanted to kiss him that afternoon at the cemetery.
Queenie laughed, her voice trembling. "But I don't want you to be in pain."
She said that, but her arms deftly wrapped around the back of his neck, then she pressed him against herself.
Harry finally kissed Queenie's soft lips, the strong strawberry flavor mingling and entwining. His hand unconsciously slid down Queenie's waist, as if to continue what he hadn't been able to finish that night.
Queenie really didn't want him to have another nosebleed. She was panting and about to push Harry away when he stopped abruptly before she could, yanked open the bed curtains, and ran into the bathroom.
"Harry?"
"I'm fine!"
Queenie clutched the blanket and laughed out loud.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
