Mr. Potter
When Queenie woke up, it was already broad daylight.
She glanced at the alarm clock by her bedside; it was past ten o'clock. She had slept for nearly twelve hours and felt a little dizzy.
Queenie got up and took a bath. She walked into the bathroom naked and felt a sharp pain on the sole of her foot. She lifted her leg and looked down. Oh, it was the precious wooden stick that Harry had left her last night.
The wooden stick had the honor of going into the bathtub with Queenie and enjoying a strawberry-flavored bubble bath. Queenie piled her hair on top of her head and waved the wooden stick around, observing what made it so precious.
The cleaned stick looked much fresher. It was about eleven inches long, thicker at the bottom and thinner at the top, with a handle-like part. She couldn't tell what material it was, but she bent it gently and found it quite flexible.
Hmm, maybe it's some kind of toy that's popular among boys? Think about it, girls like to play magical girls with magic wands, so maybe boys do too.
But no matter how you explain it, it doesn't sound like something precious to a twenty-three or twenty-four-year-old adult male.
Queenie took it to poke bubbles, well, maybe Harry used it to poke things too, she had to say that was pretty childish.
After taking a bath, Queenie went back to her bedroom to change her clothes. She casually tossed the wooden stick onto her pillow and then went out to get something to eat.
Queenie is seventeen years old. Her parents divorced when she was very young, and she lived with her father. She attended a boarding school for junior high school, and after high school, she found a single apartment to live in on her own. After all, her parents had each started new families, and living alone was always more comfortable.
As for why she was allowed to enter the bar despite being a minor, it was because of her ex-boyfriend. Children approaching adulthood are always full of curiosity about the adult world, and bars are one such curiosity. Her ex-boyfriend asked someone he knew to get them fake driver's licenses, and on his birthday, he and his friends went to a bar to experience it for themselves.
Last night was Queenie's second time going to the bar, and she ran into Harry.
Hmm? Harry?
Queenie looked at the green-eyed man waving at her from outside the shop window. Who else could it be but Harry? The fries in her hand fell into the tray. Queenie stared blankly as Harry pushed open the door and walked in. The fast food restaurant didn't make him feel as reserved as the bar. He sat down next to her casually. "Hi, Queenie."
"Hi, Harry." Queenie put down her burger and wiped her mouth. "How did you know I was here?"
"Oh, I didn't know. I only remembered last night after I got home that we hadn't arranged the details of our second meeting, so I went to the bar to ask about you, but they all said they had never seen you before."
Of course, to avoid running into acquaintances, she deliberately went to a neighborhood she had never been to before.
“But I remember you left on bus number 6, so I followed the route of bus number 6. I was lucky, wasn’t I?” Ha wiped his sweat with a tissue. The air conditioning in the fast food restaurant temporarily calmed him down. He was glad he found Queenie, he thought, otherwise he would have had to ask Sirius for help, maybe use a Summoning Charm or something.
Oh my god, her apartment was at the second stop on bus route 6, almost a whole route away from that bar. Queenie was smitten with him; she felt that even away from the bar atmosphere and the influence of alcohol, this man was still incredibly adorable.
Moreover, she happily assumed that Harry liked her a little too; otherwise, why would he brave the scorching sun and follow an uncertain bus route to find her? What if she had to transfer buses along the way? Was it all for that ordinary wooden stick?
Queenie licked her lips, where the sweet and sour taste of ketchup still lingered. "So, I suppose you haven't had lunch yet? My treat."
Harry paid for the drinks last night, and he didn't say much. He went to the cashier and ordered a set meal.
After they finished their fast food and were drinking iced cola together, Harry hesitated for a moment and asked, "Uh, Queenie, do you still have the magic stick I gave you last night?"
Queenie looked at him with amusement, her eyes full of teasing. "Mr. Harry, are you talking about his most precious thing?"
Harry blushed slightly. "Oh, you might think it's a bit childish, but it's really important to me... Could you please stop calling me Mr. Harry? It sounds a bit strange."
"Hmm, cutie?"
This was the first thing she said to him when she met him, and Harry became even more embarrassed. "Harry, just call me Harry. If you insist on calling me 'sir,' my name is Harry Potter."
“Mr. Potter,” Queenie called out obediently, “My name is Queenie Campbell, but I prefer you to call me Queenie.”
"Queenie, what about that stick?"
“It’s perfectly fine in my house. Since it’s Mr. Potter’s most prized possession, of course I have to keep it safe,” Queenie blurted out. “Want to come home with me to get it?”
“Okay.” Harry radiated happiness, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief.
Queenie was taken aback; he had actually agreed.
Queenie's house was a bit messy, which was probably the norm for students living alone these days. The shoes in the entryway were never neatly arranged, and the clothes were never put in the closet. To be honest, she couldn't even sit on such a big sofa by herself, so what was wrong with allocating some space for clothes? She thought it was convenient.
But Harry followed her back, and Queenie suddenly felt embarrassed. Girls are usually quite clean, so would he think she was sloppy? But there was obviously no time to clean up now, so Queenie could only lower her head and quickly walk into the bedroom, pick up the wooden stick from the pillow, and hand it to him.
"...!" He saw it! Queenie picked up his wand from the bed! Merlin, she didn't sleep with it all night, did she? Harry sniffed, horrified to find that his wand smelled sweet and fresh like strawberries!
Queenie saw his actions and explained, "Oh, I washed it while I was taking a shower."
"...!" The wand was so hot he could barely hold it!
Harry quickly tucked his wand into his pocket, covering it with the hem of his t-shirt. He raised a hand to brush his hair aside, trying to hide his embarrassment. "You said last night you needed my help... When do we start practicing?"
“Oh, no rush. I think we should decide on the dresses first.” Queenie said as she went back to her bedroom. She hadn’t expected to run into Harry that morning, and now she wanted to put on some nice makeup. “How about Charing Cross Road?”
"no!"
"Um?"
"..." Harry couldn't bring himself to say that the Leak Cauldron was on Charing Cross Street, or he'd be recognized. "It's so hot, shall we go somewhere closer?"
“Okay, let’s go to Kingston then.” She had originally thought that going somewhere further away would allow them to spend more time together. “Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right out.”
Harry nodded. After last year's Christmas ball, he had a general idea of how long it took for girls to put on makeup.
When Queenie finished tidying up and came out, it was already twenty minutes later. She was surprised to find that Harry had also tidied up her living room in those twenty minutes.
Snacks that were casually placed on the coffee table were neatly arranged; unfinished snacks were sealed, and finished snacks were put in the trash can. Clothes on the sofa were folded neatly and placed in the corner, and shoes and various small items that were casually thrown away were lined up in their original positions.
"Wow, you're amazing!"
Harry smiled shyly, "It's nothing, I'm just waiting anyway, I'm used to doing this."
It seems he is a very organized and tidy person. Queenie thinks he might even be a good cook, considering she can't even make a proper fried egg. She survives living alone thanks to the wide variety of restaurants around her.
Harry stood up. "Shall we go?"
“Wait—” Queenie ran up to him, wearing flat sandals, while Harry was barefoot because he didn’t have men’s sandals at home. Queenie pressed close to his chest, almost touching him.
Harry took a step back in surprise, but Queenie grabbed his arm. "Don't move." She then squeezed his firm forearm. "Wow, it feels nice."
Queenie gestured above her head to see how tall she was compared to Harry.
“Oh well, looks like I’ll have to buy a pair of heels that are about 3.5 inches tall.” She was 5.4 feet tall, and Harry looked to be 6 feet tall.
Harry's eyes widened in horror. How tall?
"Hey dear Mr. Potter, don't make that face. You know, high heels are weapons, so of course you have to buy the most suitable ones."
Yes, with heels that high, who can say they aren't weapons?
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