Plant New Seeds | H.S.| AU

Chapter Twenty-Eight - In The Kitchen

AN: This chapter has almost every scene I pictured in my head when the idea of writing this story first came to mind. I'm so glad y'all are finally able to read it!

Enjoy, my loves.

H A R R Y

Nia was like the premiering trick to a magician's residency in Vegas: now you see her, now you don't. It seemed like every single time we slept in the same place together—four times so far—she was never there when I woke up.

Subconsciously, I rolled over to the other side of my bed and nearly shat myself for being so forgetful. I thought I'd accidentally flattened Nee into a slice of Pita Bread.

My hand clawed its way upward towards her vacant silk pillow as my head faced towards the window. My resurrected eyes focused its vision on the unmistakable heaviness of afternoon sun beaming through my curtained window.

Her side of the bed was cold, like it'd been empty for much longer than I anticipated.

"Nia?" I called out.

Perhaps she was in one of the bathrooms, freshening up and recuperating from the mild hangover the both of us undoubtedly had. But I received the silence as a response; not even the sound of running water or the pitter-patters of her gentle steps.

So she didn't stay.

Panic levitated my body off the plush surface as I sat up and frantically scanned the room. Somehow my mind convinced me that Nia would magically appear from the dust particles floating in the air if I wished for it hard enough.

The safe sex shirt I let her borrow to sleep in last night was strewn against the arm rest of the sofa chair in the corner. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, clearly with the intent of preventing me from waking up at the slam of closing it completely.

Wherever she went had clearly not been in a state of panic or rush, otherwise I probably would've woken up, too. The loft wasn't on fire, all my valuables appeared to be intact so there was no break-in; everything was in its place but Sunflower.

My phone on the nightstand suddenly vibrated, revealing a series of Happy Thanksgiving messages from various colleagues and the Brunch Bitches group-chat.

I could hardly believe what I was reading when I saw the time was half-past three in the afternoon; sleep held me hostage for exactly twelve hours.

I breezed up and down the pesky notifications five fucking times—there wasn't a single one from the Female Houdini.

Damn it, where was she?

As far as I was concerned, last night had been absolutely perfect, not even one fraction of a hiccup or blemish defacing the sweet memory of it.

When we arrived back home, both of us were borderline drunk and exhausted way beyond comprehension. Choosing sleep over anything else, we quickly showered together—nothing sexual, sadly—and hit the sack immediately.

The small Thanksgiving menu we curated for our first mini-feast was discussed softly as she cuddled me from my backside.

I loved being the little spoon, just as much as she loved being the big one. My Sunflower sweetly trailed little pecks of affection up my neck and down my spine at a natural pace.

And then sleep consumed us unexpectedly in the middle of our drunken rant, the feeling of each other's arms lulling us the whole way through.

Perfect.

There was nothing I could think of that would make her leave me all alone again, especially not so sudden. It was Thanksgiving, Nia's office building was closed and I remember her distinctly mentioning that she wouldn't be working today.