Florbe caterpillar
In the evening, Harry chatted with Queenie via text message as usual.
"Zzzy Honey Candy...is that how you spell it? Is it really that delicious?"
Harry thought of Queenie when she was being naughty. Didn't she write a sticker asking what she wanted to eat today? I know...eat...I know you wanna eat me!
Ron, who was reviewing Apparition theory with a pained expression, was wondering, "...Why did Harry suddenly twist into a Froebeest caterpillar on the bed?"
Harry covered himself with his pillow and calmed himself down for a while before replying to Queenie's text message with the maturity of a cooked shrimp.
"Of course, I'll bring you a pack next time we meet, so you can share it with Emily too."
"Why are you trying to please Emily?"
Did Queenie have some bad associations with trying to please him? Those two ex-boyfriends and friends who betrayed her? He hurriedly replied, mentioning that he typed much faster now, thanks to frequent practice.
"I didn't mean anything by it, I just wanted to say that you can share it with your good friends."
"Really? I thought you were trying to curry favor with Emily so she would say good things about you to me."
Queenie, on the other end of the line, was laughing while holding her phone. There was no need for Emily to say anything good about Harry; in fact, it was the other way around.
Harry lay on his side reading the text message. Why did he need Emily to speak well of him to Queenie? Wait, to put it another way, maintaining a good relationship with Queenie's best friend seemed, perhaps... maybe... indeed somewhat necessary?
Harry rolled over and was suddenly faced with Ron, who was leaning over him. He jumped in surprise. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, you weren't moving around like that just now. Let me see if you're sick." Ron noticed his flushed face and asked worriedly, "Are you really not sick? Should I go ask Mom for a pick-me-up?"
"...No need, I just feel a little hot, a shower will do."
"Okay, there should be some chilled pumpkin juice in the kitchen if you need it."
"Thanks."
After Ron went back to his bed to look through Hermione's notes, Harry got up and went into the bathroom.
"Are you shy?"
"Okay, I'm not kidding anymore."
"Harry?"
—Have you noticed that you get shy easily?
"Asleep?"
Harry was typing when Queenie's call suddenly came in. He almost dropped the phone, but he quickly grabbed it and pressed the green call button.
"Hey? Harry? Are you asleep?"
"Cough—not yet." Harry turned on the shower so Ron wouldn't hear him on the phone. As for why he didn't want Ron to hear, he couldn't think of a reason right now; he just did it instinctively.
"Are you in the bathroom?"
Queenie was completely unaware of his inner thoughts—Harry told himself this—and said calmly, "Well, I was just about to take a shower; it's so hot, isn't it?"
"..."
Harry reached out to test the water temperature, then turned it down a bit. "Queenie?"
Queenie, on the other end of the phone, sat up straight, clutching her pillow. "I thought—"
"Um?"
"I thought you were easily embarrassed, Mr. Potter. I didn't expect you to answer my call while taking a shower?"
"...!" This time the phone really slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a thud. He rushed to catch it, but his finger got poked again, and Harry hissed in pain. Ron heard the noise and immediately asked if he was okay. Harry could only say that he had accidentally knocked the mouthwash cup over.
Harry picked up the phone; had it not been for the magical protection, it would have been broken from the fall. His gasp went through the microphone to Queenie, who chuckled twice, "You—"
"The water's hot, I'm going to take a shower, talk to you later!" Harry hung up the phone in one swift motion, rubbing his fingers as he turned the water temperature even lower, constantly telling himself that Queenie didn't know he was only fifteen. Even before going to sleep, Harry was still thinking about what would happen if Queenie found out he'd lied to her. This thought worked; his fever had completely subsided.
The Savior's brain-blocking technique remains ineffective today.
Queenie, on the other hand, recalled Harry's strong arms. Hmm, she wondered when she could look at other places. She didn't have any bad thoughts; it was purely an appreciation of his good physique. Yeah, that's it.
"...Honey, if you were a man, I would call the police for Harry. You know what the crime is."
Queenie and Emily made plans to get their nails done together for the prom. Their summer homework was finally finished and hastily piled to one side. The two of them flipped through magazines to choose their favorite nail designs, and also caught up on the stories Emily had missed during this time.
“But he’s a grown man five years older than us, and a seasoned sailor who’s traveled all over the world. Is it reasonable for him to be so innocent?” Emily’s imagination ran wild, offering another possibility: “Or maybe Harry is actually a very cunning person. He did it on purpose. It seems like you’re the one who’s taking the initiative, but in reality, everything is under his control. You’ve been following his script to the end.”
Queenie ticked off a blue and pink gradient nail design and turned to the next page. "Isn't that perfect? It means we're attracted to each other."
Emily felt that her friend was already in love, and she had to be the one to stay rational. "You should be more careful and think about it carefully. Your first meeting at the bar was very strange. I've heard that sailors can drink a lot, but from what you've said, Harry doesn't seem to be good at drinking."
There are indeed suspicious points, but—
"Harry can't guarantee that only the table in front of me was empty at the time, right?"
"Perhaps it's because he just wanted to randomly pick a girl?"
Queenie ticked off another mermaid nail design. "If you ask me, with his looks, he doesn't need to go through all this trouble, does he? If he just wants a casual fling on days he's not on the ship."
"...Maybe he just likes to be in control?"
"Honey, you know, we haven't even kissed yet, or even said whether we like each other or not. Does that fit the scenario you described?"
Well, if Harry is really an expert, this pace is a bit slow.
"You have to admit that there are men like this in the world. Maybe I'll just happen to run into one? Besides, he's not that old, is he? Okay, honey, I know you care about me, but if you don't hurry up and choose, you'll have to do my nails first."
Emily was temporarily convinced, and her thoughts returned to the beginning, "But the fact that Harry wasn't scared by your performance proves that he also likes you?"
Queenie was particularly confident: "Of course, I can feel it."
Harry, who was being nagged by the twins, was trying his best to learn Apparition from them. They found an empty room in Black's old house, where the twins had drawn several circles on the floor for practice. The adults assumed they were playing games together—the room contained Goblin Stone, Wizard's Chess, and Pop-Up cards, as well as the twins' unfinished inventions—so they didn't pay much attention to them. After all, most of the adults were active in the basement and didn't have the extra energy to take care of the children.
Ginny joined them; given that there were only six children in the house, it would be too obvious not to include her. Harry was initially worried that the well-behaved Ginny might tell Mrs. Weasley that they had secretly learned Apparition—Mrs. Weasley would certainly not allow it if she found out—but Hermione said, "Don't forget, Ginny is a Gryffindor too. Do you know that her best spells are the Bat-Spirit Charm and the Shattering Charm?"
Harry, who was skilled in Excalibur and Patronus Charity, fell silent. Well, the girls in Gryffindor were quite formidable.
During his break, Harry's phone beeped with a text message notification. He quickly opened it and saw that Queenie had sent him a photo.
"I just got my nails done, do you think the little mermaid looks good?"
Harry opened the photo and examined it closely. How come he hadn't noticed before? Queenie's hands were fair and slender, with perfectly shaped nails that made her fingers look even more delicate. The nail polish was decorated with fishtail-shaped patterns and pearls. But mermaids... the mermaid tails in his memory weren't this beautiful.
"It looks absolutely beautiful."
Harry had just sent the text message when Ginny screamed from inside the room, "Oh Merlin! Ron!"
He looked up in a hurry and was horrified to find that Ron had split in two! His index finger lay quietly on the ground two feet away, still bleeding. Ron's face was contorted with pain as he tried his best to control himself from screaming and attracting the adults.
Harry ran over, pale-faced, and together with Hermione, helped Ron up on either side. "Quick, Fred George! Go and fetch Mrs. Weasley!"
"No—" Ron stopped him, his voice trembling, "Go find Sirius, but don't let Mom know."
“Oh Ron—” Harry’s eyes welled up with tears, along with Hermione’s.
Ron even managed a joke despite the excruciating pain, "Sirius can handle it, right? I'd rather die than become like Peter."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
