The Prince Of Curses h.s.

Forty one

I woke up with a warm hand pressing into my side.

I looked down, seeing large long fingers slightly curved to the bend of my hip. My stomach was bare, with dark silk sheets hanging over my waistline. I couldn't tell what time it was, due to the thick curtains blocking the windows. 

I rolled to my back, Harry's hand sliding seamlessly to my stomach. I blinked softly, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. It was then I noticed that some of the stars on Harry's ceiling seemed to glow. That, or the white paint substantially stood out against its dark surroundings. Either way, it was an artistically beautiful design that seemed quite fitting for both of us.

Thoughts of last night quickly resurfaced in my brain. Guilt and grief wasted no time rolling into me. What happened last night was something that would burn into my soul forever. Mom and dad were gone, and my sister, without a doubt, would be scarred from the trauma she experienced.

I have never wished to see someone more, or rewind time and be able to defend them properly. They are somewhere now, buried within the earth, frozen in time for the rest of eternity. How am I supposed to move on when the people I love are no longer on this earth? How do I go on knowing that the life I lived is gone forever? How do I overpass the mourning and acceptance that things will never be the same? It was the final page in a chapter that I wasn't ready to close.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I silently shut my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. My stomach began to buzz as a tingle ran through my spine and lifted the hairs on my neck. I saw Harry shift slightly, the blonde strain in his hair starting to turn white. I quickly tried to tame my magic so it wouldn't wake him. 

Magic was a strange thing. Emotions before magic were manageable— emotions with magic were chaotic and amplified. Everything I felt manifested and swelled my power. I think what scared me the most was that darkness and anger seemed to fuel it more than blissfulness. I envy the day I learn how to tame it correctly and not have to coddle it like a fresh wound.

Harry was laying on his stomach with his head resting on his forearm. The pillow was curved back, squished against the headboard as if he'd pushed it upwards in his sleep. 

I stared at him— or rather the long mess of hair that covered his head. 

His broad bare back rose as he inhaled and exhaled at a steady rhythm, highlighting some of the muscle that hid beneath his skin. He was a graceful creature, truly hand-crafted by the most perfect hands. I fought the urge to reach out and touch him. I wondered if he was meant to be made that way— insatiably irresistible. Just like some of the most venomous animals, adored with divine beauty, but kill with a single strike.

Was he coiling now? Curling and waiting to attack his prey? Deceiving my senses? Or was this just a piece of him I was so fortunate to see?

I never knew, and I was starting to wonder if I ever would know who he truly is or what he is capable of being. It was a dark tunnel I was blindly leading myself down, trying to find the path that these so-called 'fates' laid out for me.

I sighed, looking down at the blonde streak that ran through his hair. I gave him a piece of myself, unknowingly so. I marked a demon prince, claimed him as mine, and developed a mass of confusing feelings for him. As hard as it was to admit, I felt things for him. I felt things that went beyond divinity, like some root that ran down to my core. He felt like a piece of me that had been missing long before I ever came here. He was starting to feel like home. 

I quietly rolled, sitting up and letting the sheet slide off my bare legs as they swung off the edge of the bed. Harry's hand tenderly hit the bed beside me. I peeked around my shoulder, seeing his back continue to rise in his soundless slumber.