do you feel like a young god? // (Zarry AU)

ch 8; perfect places.

If knowing Zayn Malik was an experience, falling for him was a whole new level of insanity that Harry dipped his toes into. He'd have never come to terms with his feelings until those four days he spent resting in his dorm while Zayn's unconscious body lay in the hospital.

He had gone from helping Zayn to hating him to being friends-ish to feeling stupid in a matter of a couple months. It's wild that he never noticed his feelings before. Or maybe he did but chose to ignore it. Zayn made him feel so much more than what he thought his heart was capable of. He felt admiration when he was being taught Dark Magic, felt longing whenever they fell into a comfortable silence, awkwardness practically dripped out of thin air when they first tried talking to each other civilly.

He had gone to visit him one night after dinner too, making sure no one was around except the nurses. Seeing him all bandaged up flooded memories of when Harry's hands were- okay, he took a breath. Not going to think about that.

With another shaky intake of breath, he had sat down on the chair next to the bed.

Was I, a second too late with the spell? Could I not fix you this time? His mind had traveled to some of the ugliest thoughts. Would you please wake up and tell me how bad I cast charms?

He couldn't help but extend his hand out; careful fingertips grazing Zayn's palm. His hands trembled as he held Zayn's. His brows scrunched up when he felt a cool, metal sensation. The rose ring. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he swallowed his grief which threatened to well up in his eyes.

He had been so wrong all this time. About Zayn.

Zayn had managed to push him more than anyone ever did. He didn't care if it was too much on Harry because Zayn knew it wasn't. Harry hadn't grown up with magic but that's why he was here, wasn't he? To learn, to consume it so that it becomes a part of him. And Zayn, stupid, cocky, stupid Zayn helped him with that and got cursed. A life for a life.

Harry's grip on Zayn's hand grew tighter. Something inside him told him that he wasn't late. Zayn would wake up, he would get better. Harry had managed to overcome the curse. He had to, he had to, he had to. Because even if the sky falls, there's nothing that he wouldn't do for Zayn.

Pulling him out of his reverie, two arms wrap around his waist from behind. He purses his lips together to hold back a smile as he puts the book back into the shelf of the library.

Harry could recognize him by touch alone and when Zayn nestles his face in the crook of his neck, he is enveloped by the familiar musk. Harry would know him blind, by smell. And by the way Zayn takes a deep breath, Harry would know him in death, at the end of the world.

"Is that your cologne or firewhiskey?" Zayn murmurs against his skin as he presses faint kisses on his neck.

Harry snorts, elbowing him gently in the ribs, "It's jerk repellent but it doesn't seem to be working."

Zayn turns him around by his hips, sporting an amused look, "I'll actually recommend a jerk repellent."

And he knows what Zayn's talking about. It's been two weeks or so since they've been together. Always dancing around the right moment to let their friends know but it never seems right. Somehow, it all feels like a bizarre situation of how they came to date. It is bizarre, alright.

He hadn't missed the way Liam would be at the receiving end of Zayn's temper, whenever he got close with Harry. But something had shifted between him and Liam, though. As if they both had realized that it was better being friends. And Liam had been seeing Sophia Smith.

But that doesn't stop Zayn from casting a spell (not so) discreetly when Liam's hand was on Harry's back. The Hufflepuff lad had frowned, not knowing what caused him to feel a sudden jolt when he had touched Harry. Or the time when Professor Snape was called into the Headmaster's Office so he left Zayn in charge of the class temporarily. He had used it as an excuse to "oversee" Harry's work. Meaning it was just Zayn touching Harry or grabbing his butt.