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chapter two | would rather read
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The Boy Who Lived could not escape his dreams. Dark images invaded his mind, making it harder for him to sleep through the night. He carefully traveled downstairs for a drink, careful not to wake the others. He let out a sigh, putting his hands on the counter.
"Harry?"
Green hues met ice blue as Stella Mason leaned on the doorway to the kitchen. She had a book in her hand, as usual, and didn't seem to want to sleep anytime soon. Sleep wasn't something that came easy for her. It wasn't because of trauma or nightmares, it was just her mind keeping her awake. Always thinking about things, coming up with random ideas or theories.
"Stella," the Potter breathed in reply, "what are you doing up?"
"Sleep is overrated."
Her response received a chuckle, "Yeah. I suppose."
Stella bit her lip slightly, hesitating with her next response, "I can keep you company if you'd like? I've been reading in the study."
After a nod, she gave the boy a small smile and started walking back to her hiding spot, hearing the boys' footsteps behind her. She reclaimed her seat on the couch, where the boy sat on the chair on the opposite wall. Not acknowledging him, she started to read where she left off. What she didn't realize, was that the boy couldn't look away from her.
Harry was curious about the girl. At school, what he knew was she didn't talk to anyone besides Hermione when they were in their dorm room. He had also seen her with Neville a couple of times in the common room. She didn't speak her mind in class, didn't raise her hand, though she did sit beside Hermione and contribute in conversations with her. She didn't really socialize with anyone in the Great Hall, more off to the side of the table, either by herself or with Neville. But this Stella, at Grimmauld Place, seemed to be completely different. Since arriving here, Harry had heard Stella talk more than the last 4 years of being classmates with her. He had so many questions for her, he just didn't know where to start, or how.
"If you want to say something, go ahead."
His gaze and thoughts were broken by the Mason who still had her eyes on the pages in front of her. Harry cleared his throat and gave himself a mental note to not be so obvious. He started with a simple question, "how does your dad know everyone?"
That was a question Stella didn't expect from him, but answered anyway, lifting her gaze to him, "my parents were sorted into Gryffindor with your godfather, your parents and Remus. They were good friends. However, my parents tended to be on the sidelines of all the mischief their friends caused," she chuckled along with the boy.
