Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
morning haze
THE LIGHT THAT cascaded into the room was far too bright. Betty's eyes fluttered open, making her rub them and get the gunk out. Her bones creaked as she reached up and took in the light that flooded into the room. Her back cracked, making her groan and lay back down again—propping herself up with her elbows. A sudden cold wash fell over her and her breathing picked up as she felt the air in the room prick her nearly bare skin. She didn't remember entering the room and it definitely wasn't a door. All of a sudden, the door opened and she was met with a plate stacked with drop scones, pears, bacon and a single piece of toast with raspberry jam. The body followed soon after: James Potter with slightly askew glasses and in the same clothes as the night before. He didn't notice her wakefulness as he plodded into the room and looked around for somewhere to put the plate on. Betty watched as his eyes searched the area around the bed before he pulled out his wand, tried waving it and groaned with fruitless results. A half smile quirked the end of her mouth up as her eyes darted around him, but upon seeing the red mark on the side of his neck, the sinking feeling weighed down on her again. Except, instead of an anvil, it felt like the whole planet dropped and caved in on her.
"Oh god." Her voice cut through the comfortable silence. James whipped his head around to see her horror stricken face, making the plate wobble slightly. "Did we . . . dear lord—" she buried her face in her hands "—did we sleep together?"
James grinned, tilted his head back and let out a burst of laughter that seemed to glow more than the sunlight. "God, Betty. No! You passed out. Well, nearly at least. Wasn't much better myself, I must say. Could probably blame this whole thing—" his hand flicked back and forth between them "—on bad judgement and bad booze." His laughter subsided into little intermittent chuckles as he strode over and placed the plate on the covers. Betty sat up and pulled the covers with her—the cold air pricking her skin and her confidence from the night before seemingly dissipated. She felt like a baby lamb only in her underwear, but the boy before her no longer seemed like a wolf. "Thought you might want something to wash it all down with. Felt sick when I woke up."
"Thank you." Her voice was quiet as she took the fork and knife that were offered to her. Slowly, she stuck her fork in a slice of pear and brought it to her mouth. The juice washed through her mouth, making her smile and causing a little to dribble from the corner of her mouth. The sweetness melted in her mouth as she reached up and wiped the juice from her chin. She looked up to see James's wide eyes as he slowly chewed on a piece of the drop scones. "Sorry." Her voice was slightly muffled. "Haven't eaten in a while, so I won't be the most graceful."
"It's alright." The room fell quiet once more as the tension grew thick. Awkward vines twisted through the air and the uneasy waters flowed silently, separating them. Their forks danced around each other—daring not to touch—as pear, drop scones and bacon were shoved onto them and brought into awaiting mouths. Betty tried to swallow as quietly as she could and only managed to look at the plate. All that was left was the toast with raspberry jam. Her eyes met his as it registered. As his eyes shifted between them, hers softened as she gingerly reached forward. She let out a deep breath—banishing the awkward fog that had settled—and took a bite of the toast. A smile immediately sprung up at the familiar sweetness. She felt a small tug inside of her towards him. Like a little string being pulled. Her eyes flicked up to him, but he was finishing the rest of his pear, eyes searching the newfound room. Her eyes followed his own as they searched the room.
