DYNASTY
[ BOOK FOUR ] ✧
Harper Verum and Stiles Stilinski have been through everything together; from finding out their best friend was a werewolf, to a kanima, an alpha pack, a Nogitsune, the Deadpool, Dread Doctors, Valack... It seemed that nothin...
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( SEASON SIX A ! )
a relic.
Harper moved to sit down beside Scott, smiling shyly at the shaggy-haired boy and his friend sat next to him. Both Scott and Stiles grinned back, Stiles presenting his missing front tooth to her. Immediately she began to feel a little calmer in the presence of the two boys, snuggled at the back of the classroom and away from the spotlight.
"W-we don't think you talk funny," Scott disclaimed sweetly, recalling the blush that had been on her cheeks from before, "it sounds nice."
Stiles nodded quickly from next to his friend. "Yeah, like Hermione or something!" He exclaimed, "and I can be Ron because he has the best jokes and Scott can be Harry because he's a nerd."
The small girl released a giggle, causing Stiles' smile to widen. Not many people thought that his jokes were good enough to laugh at, so he automatically decided this new girl was good enough to sit with him and Scott on their lone table of two.
"You're funny," she complimented.
Stiles blushed- he couldn't help it. Scott sent him a knowing look, making the Stilinski boy shake his head and stick his tongue out. Harper smiled at them both, not quite understanding that she had set them off but knowing that they were more entertaining than any of the people she had been friends with back in her old school.
"So, Harper," Scott grinned, making Stiles shoot him a look, "did you have a boyfriend at your old school?"
The brunette turned her nose up, "boys are gross. No offence."
"We're boys," Stiles frowned, "are we gross?"
Harper hummed as if thinking about it, tapping the bottom of her chin and look up at the ceiling.
"I guess I'll make an exception for the two of you."
Harper gasped awake, her hand on her heart as it pounded rapidly. She knew the dream that she had had was, in fact, a memory, and she had seen him.
Sure, it was Stiles when he was nine-years-old, but it was something.
He had dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin. If she remembered correctly from her dream, which was starting to become blurry even seconds later, he had moles splattered like a constellation on the side of his face and a cute, button nose.
She snatched her sketchpad from her bedside table, finding it already opened on the page from last night. Her fingers skimmed back over his eyes, her hands touching the beauty marks dotted around.
They were just like the one from her dream.
Stiles must have been best friends with Scott before she even moved to Beacon Hills, and then he must have befriended her at the tender age of nine.
