the one | h. potter

41. he-what?

"I love you."

It's almost funny how these three words can break me, rip me to shreds, and build me up all over again.

He loves me.

Harry's drunk. I don't know what to say. I don't know if he meant it or he's just too hammered on firewhiskey or if he doesn't know what he's talking about. Hell, I don't know if he'll remember this in the morning.

He loves me.

He can't love me? He's only known me for less than six months. We've only been dating for four. It doesn't make sense. Unless...

Unless he's realized.

I try to reply, realizing I've been silent for a good ten seconds. But what comes out isn't what I meant to say.

"What?" I whisper.

"I love you," he repeats, giving me a wide grin and kissing me on the tip of my nose.

Okay, once, twice, what's the difference? He's drunk, he might not even mean it. I try to even out my breathing, which has quickened rapidly in the last few seconds. I need to find something to say. Something to say back.

"Really?" I say.

Harry smiles, all bright and happy. "Yeah."

I don't deserve him, I really don't. Harry deserves someone ten, twenty times better than me, yet he loves me. And I don't think I'll be able to get over it.

My face breaks out into an uncontrollable smile and I smash my lips to his. He responds with enthusiasm, shifting so we're both comfortable and angling his head to slip his tongue down my throat. Harry groans slightly, intertwining his tongue with mine, my nerve endings going berserk. His hands slowly move down my shoulders, down my back until-

"Excuse you!"

We immediately separate, only to find Ron looking at us, amused. "That's enough PDA, thank you," he says.

"Oh, fuck you," I mutter. Harry elbows me lightly in the arm and kisses me one last time before retreating and settling onto the side of the couch.

Hermione has finally gotten the movie working. The title and opening credits of the movie fill the screen and Arthur claps excitedly. We're watching a movie I've never seen before, one called 'Home Alone.'

I snuggle into Harry's side on the couch, and his arm automatically winds itself around my shoulders. Molly passes out blankets and popcorn. Harry covers the two of us and places the popcorn on his lap.

"This is a good movie," he whispers to me, mouth full of popcorn.

"Good. Gimme some of that!" I say, and he hands me the popcorn, his free hand gripping my knee.

The movie goes by fairly quickly. I pay little attention to it, instead focusing on Harry's touch. His arm draped around my shoulder draws little circles onto my collarbone and his hand on my knee shifts so he can hold my hand. The movie is good, from what I can tell; Ron keeps bursting into laughter, George keeps pausing the movie and trying to one-up the kid, and Arthur gawks at the screen, amazed that a young muggle boy can be so clever. By the end of the movie, Harry is spooning me, him lying down on the couch, taking way too much room, and me laying in front of him. It isn't that late, but the overall mood is sleepy.

"That was funny," Ron yawns.

"Oh sweetie, you'd better get on to bed," Hermione says.

"S' too early."

"Yeah 'Mione," Harry chirps from beside me. "It's too early."

"Bullshit," I say. "You two have been yawning the whole movie."

"But we're not tired!" Ron groans.

"I think we're going to head up too," Molly says, and Arthur nods. They bid us goodnight.

"Now we can get the party started," Harry yawns.

"You'll be out before the party starts, at this point," I say. "I'm taking you up to bed."

"Nooooooo, Liz!"

"Who's room are we in?" I ask.

"Mine," Charlie says. "Up the stairs, third landing. It's the first door."

"Thanks," I say. "Up you go."

"I don't wanna go to bed," Harry complains. "Why do you even want to- oh." He smiles a devilish smile that I know all too well.

I smack his arm and pull him up. Hermione has managed to get Ron up as well, and she's started the process of leading him up the stairs.

"Thank Merlin I packed hangover potions," she whispers.

"Yeah," I mutter and practically drag Harry up the stairs. He's not asleep, but he's sluggish, so I have to coax him up the stairs. I make him change into pajamas and cast a cleaning charm on his mouth before he falls into the bed.

"Come'ere," he mumbles. I change and fall into the bed next to him. He cozies up against me and kisses my neck. "G'night, love you."

There it is again. I'm tempted to ask him about it, to check if Harry's actually drunk or has power over his words, but his breathing has evened out. He's already fast asleep.

I still don't know what to say or think. Because he said he loves me, and I still can't believe it. I try not to think about it, but it consumes my thoughts as Harry wraps his arms around me in his sleep.

It's just that, deep down, I know that I love him too.