Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Eighty One.

Harry was immediately sent off to his room to study the moment his mother came home, just minutes after he'd set foot through the door himself. Finals were days away, and he'd spent so much time wallowing and slacking that he'd hardly bothered with revision. He'd been discouraged, both because there was so much to go over in so little time, and because he had no idea why he should even try anymore. It felt meaningless, but regardless, his weekend was spent with his nose in a textbook.

Thankfully, he'd managed to convince Aubry to go over Anatomy work with him on Saturday, and thankfully Liam was willing to speak to him again and he was used as a fake excuse to leave the house at noon. His bag was lugged up the street to the grey house wedged between endless trees, and the front door opened up before he ever made it to the first step of the stairs leading up to it. It startled him slightly, looking into the dimly lit inside of the home. The curtains were drawn shut to block out the sun, and his shoes were wiped off on the welcome mat before he ever stepped inside.

The door was closed behind him, sealing the bright sunshine out, and he was met with the sight of a groggy looking Aubry in nothing but a loose T-shirt and a pair of panties. She rubbed at her head, messy hair pointing in several directions, and her voice was weak when she greeted him. "Hi."

"Hi," he returned, eyes scanning down the expanse of her naked legs, and raking back up her backside when she turned away. "You home alone?"

"No, mom's home," she mumbled, and Harry quickly kicked his shoes off before he dared follow her lead.

She headed into the kitchen, and Harry stood by while she pushed the cat's food bowl back into it's spot with her foot (he always dragged it across the floor) and opened up the fridge. "Awfully naked for not being alone," Harry chuckled.

"Just woke up," she muttered drowsily, and Harry definitely was not recognizing the person he thought he knew before.

"Sleeping until noon?" he gaped. "Who are you?"

"Tired." Her voice meshed with the sound of plastic crinkling as she pulled out a bag of grapes. Harry watched her reach high in the cabinets for a bowl, her shirt rising with her arms in a way that left the entirety of the cheeky panties she wore exposed for him to see. She rinsed the grapes at the sink before she wordlessly turned to exit out of the kitchen once again. He followed.

Her drowsiness lead her back into bed, tucked under the rumpled blankets while she picked grapes off the stem and absentmindedly ate them, all while Harry perched himself at the corner of the bed and minded his own business. A strange sense of awkwardness still lingered, Harry's quietness overtaking because he felt oddly shy, and the quiet person Aubry had fooled Harry into believing she was in the beginning had returned. That is, until he was thumped in the back of the head and a grape ricocheted off his skull.

His hand cupped the spot that had been hit. "Did you just throw a grape at me?"

"Open your mouth," she invited with another grape already pinched between her fingers. Harry complied, stretching his mouth wide to catch the grape, but it bounced off his nose and was caught in his hand instead. He ate it anyway.

It turned into a bit of a game. She'd eat one, maybe two, and then she'd throw one for Harry to catch. Though her aim was off and more grapes were lost somewhere on the floor than what was actually caught.

"Gonna be finding raisins on your floor soon," Harry mumbled after another flew straight over his head.

"I counted, there's seven on the floor. I'll find them."

Aubry disappeared after the very last grape fell to his tongue, and Harry spent his time on the floor collecting every one he could find because he felt bad. She returned with freshly brushed teeth and significantly more tamed hair to find Harry knelt on the floor. He held the dirtied grapes for her to see, "I found six."