(a/n: ladies and gentlemen. That was my 100th review. This chapter is dedicated to you, Ezmerelda [btw: I like your name], and you even get more Willow/Harry interaction. I would've had them talk more, but Willow's quite depressed, Harry doesn't know what to say, and the chapter was already longer than I was planning to make it. I didn't know that quite so much was going to happen before Harry came home. In fact, I didn't plan on her breaking up with Oz for a few chapters yet, but I don't write my stories. My muses and characters go behind my back and inform me on what's goin' down. Lol…I've created a monster. I hope this makes up for it. I'm still wondering what spastic thing I should do for my one hundredth review, but I'm coming up empty handed!
(a/n: And, C(a)rmeina (sry, my computer won't save the "at" symbol), I guess I love you, too? I'm not sure, but I guess…uh…thanks for loving me or something. And you're welcome!)
(a/n: Oh yeah, I've been informed of a major typo. Sort of major. Okay, little, but funny. On the last chapter, I said that Willow "witched" off her computer before stuffing it into a drawer. I meant "switched." Darn words that are wrong, but still words! Oops! No magic there!)
Chapter Six of Unexpected Losses
"Are-Are you okay?"
Willow didn't answer. She just sat staring blankly at him, as if she was still trying to register that he was there. An uncomfortable silence overcame the room. Harry stood nervously by her bedside, and Willow didn't move an inch. Hedwig hooted from her place in her cage atop his trunk, and they both jumped. "An owl?" Willow asked in a voice that rasped a little because of her recent tears.
"Hedwig. She's mine." Harry explained uncomfortably, gesturing to the snowy owl, who hooted again as if replying to her introduction. "Are you alright? Willow, I presume."
"Yes, I'm Willow. You're Harry?" She replied, avoiding directly answering her question. She was far from alright, but she didn't feel up to outpouring her soul at the moment. The only person she'd really like to talk to was Buffy or Xander. Or Oz, to make him explain himself.
"Yeah, Harry Potter." He answered, outstretching a hand, which she shook. He noticed that her hand was shaking slightly. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem really upset."
"I'll be fine." Willow answered. "It's nice to meet you, finally." She abruptly broke off the conversation, rolling to face the wall. She didn't want his help, or pity, just as much as she didn't want to open the e-mails from Buffy, Cordy, or Giles. None of them would make her feel better right now. She felt, Willow supposed, as Angel might have occasionally (a/n: all the time ((cough))), wanting nothing more to brood over the events of the past day.
Harry sighed silently. This definitely wasn't a Dudley II; this was another him like he'd been over the past summer. Sullen, slightly annoyed, and blatantly uncaring of others. Harry wondered the circumstances, something must've happened to make her this depressed, but there wasn't any hint as far as he knew. He didn't want to disturb his roommate, but he slept five feet above her. It was going to be a long break.
Willow woke up to the blaring of an alarm clock that she hadn't set at five thirty in the morning. Her eyes and head ached badly, and she was sure that she looked as if she'd just been hit by a truck. To her surprise, Harry slowly crawled from the top bunk and turned off the clock. His hair was sticking up far worse than it had the night before, and his clothes were rumpled. "Must ask to switch beds." He mumbled to himself, stretching, popping the joints in his shoulders, and his back a number of times.
Willow winced at the noise. She rubbed her eyes, which felt gritty and dry. She yawned and threw her blankets off herself, realizing that she was still dressed in what she wore yesterday. To her embarrassment, Harry didn't seem to notice that she was awake, and was shirtless, standing in front of his trunk to unpack his clothes. Or so Willow guessed. She blushed darkly. "I'm awake." She spoke in a whisper, but in the silence, it was just as if she'd spoke aloud. Harry jumped and spun to face her in his surprise.
He suddenly looked faintly embarrassed, turning red as he realized his own partial nudity. "Er…right. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He practically dove into his nightshirt again, still blushing a little bit.
"It's okay, but why are you up? Isn't it vacation?" She asked, puzzled, looking at the clock again.
"I'm just going to go down and make breakfast…" Harry trailed off at another puzzled look from Willow.
"You like to cook?" She finally spoke. "Want help? I can't sleep anymore."
"Sorry about that." Harry answered, still embarrassed. "I'm used to waking up early. I hoped you'd sleep through it."
"I'm a pretty light sleeper." Willow admitted. "I'm just gonna grab some of my stuff…" She drifted off and stood. She quickly gathered an outfit for the day and sped into the bathroom to change. She was definitely going to have to get used to sharing her personal space with someone of the opposite gender. She changed quickly into a t-shirt that she'd stolen from Xander, and hidden from Buffy and passable black pajama bottoms. Willow needed a comfortable day. Loose clothes, chocolate ice cream, and as much grooming as possible, especially where hair was concerned.
She pulled her hair into a short ponytail after brushing it, and washed her face twice before going downstairs, where she suspected Harry would already be. He was in the kitchen, already, and retrieving the items he needed from about the kitchen. He bustled around with a practiced air that surprised Willow. He didn't look up from the refrigerator when she entered the room. "What're you up for?"
"I'm not sure. What are my choices?" She asked, as she set up the tea kettle, ready for her morning cuppa.
"How about chocolate pancakes?" He asked, sparing a glance for her from his investigation of the fridge. Willow thought for a moment. Sure, not healthy…but it was chocolate.
"Yum." She answered decisively and turned off the kettle. "Oh, do you want a cup? I usually have one, but chocolate and mint tea just doesn't seem right together, and I was thinking about milk; but if you want a cup, I can just put the heat back on. Do you like tea? I know that some people think that everybody over here likes tea, and so far that seems to work, but I shouldn't assume…." Willow trailed off at the bemused expression on Harry's face. "Sorry." She blushed.
"It's okay. I drink tea, but usually not in the morning." He answered, smiling slightly and pulling a box of pancake mix from the fridge. "Milk sounds good, actually. Can you please get the measuring cups?"
"Sure." Willow answered and retrieved the requested item. "Does it matter which ones?"
"No, not really. Can you measure eight ounces of milk, please?" Harry asked her, working on his own task of double-checking his recipe from out of a book that Willow had seen Aunt Petunia read from daily. Willow did as instructed, carefully making sure that her measurements were exact. "And a two cups of the mix? Thanks." Willow measured out the mix, and worked herself into frustration over an almost unnoticeable measurement difference. She nearly growled at the uncompromising, miniscule line of mix above the black indication line in the measuring cup.
Harry didn't even seem to notice, neither checking her measurements for exactness nor tearing his eyes from the recipe book. He simply overturned the mix into a larger bowl. The mix was quickly followed with three eggs, the milk, melted butter and chocolate chips, which melted at the butter. He searched the cabinets for the cocoa powder, but was unsuccessful in his search. Shrugging, he added more chocolate chips.
"I like the way you cook." Willow laughed, and stole a small handful of the semisweet chocolate. Harry laughed in response, and shrugged.
"Thanks. There's just something between chocolate and every other food ever created that makes it perfect for cooking. Even better, it's harder to get mad at adding extra. Nothing wrong with extra chocolate." Harry answered, and began furiously stirring the mixture.
Willow's thoughts turned inwards when he began to attack the pancake batter. She wondered if she should mention, now, that she knew about his magic. She wanted to. She wanted to talk about magic, because that meant she really didn't have to think about the mess that was her once-social life with the Scoobies. Besides, she didn't want to have to stop practicing with this new magic. It was interesting, she had better control with this magic not her own. Wiccan magic was more familiar to her, but she had a harder time dealing with the details. It was probably, she mused, that she had a textbook in front of her involving the other magic. That had to make it much easier to use.
"—okay?" Harry broke through her thoughts, pouring a third circle of batter into the sizzling pan. He had a slightly concerned look on his face, and Willow blushed again. She had been vacating her mind just a little bit in the past two days. If she wasn't careful, Harry was going to think that she was an airhead.
"Excuse me?" She answered, trying not to look him in the eye.
"You okay?" Harry said instead. He decided that Willow was nice enough, but just a little bit on the spacey side. That probably had more to do with him waking her at five thirty in the morning than anything else. "Are you sure that you don't want to go back to bed?"
"I'm fine. Sorry, I'm not really tired, but I'm not awake yet. I'll be right back." She headed upstairs to retrieve her laptop. She had to read the e-mails from the rest of the Scoobies; otherwise they'd get worry at her lack of response. The last thing she could deal with at the moment was Buffy and/or Xander coming to visit because she hadn't been in the mood to check her e-mails.
When she reached the dining room table, she was shocked to find out two plates of the pancakes already at the table, including real whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and powdered sugar. Harry entered the room holding two huge glasses of milk. "That was fast." Willow spoke, in almost awe. The pancakes had barely begun cooking when she'd headed upstairs what felt like moments ago. "Almost like magic." She added, just to see Harry's reaction. He nearly tripped over his own feet at the head of the table, but managed to right himself without spilling the milk in his hands.
"Almost." He answered with a smile that didn't really reach his eyes.
Willow took her seat at her usual seat, which was across the other plate. She took out her laptop computer and opened it, and connected. She nearly missed his look of interest. "Thank the goddess for wireless internet." Willow shrugged and turned the computer to face him. "Have a go, trust me. You couldn't do much more damage to it than I've managed."
She tried to suppress a grin of her own at his look of delight, but failed. He earnestly began looking over the contraption. Willow shrugged, knowing that she could check her e-mail later. She took a bite of the pancake, and wandered away into heaven somewhere. It was perfect: not overcooked not undercooked, not too sweet or bitter, and with just the right amount of the individual toppings. She was instantly won over by her breakfast. "If I wake up at five thirty every morning…do I always get breakfast this good?" She joked warmly, feeling immensely better.
"Sure." Harry answered, dazed by the computer before him. He was, in fact, not paying overmuch attention to his new roommate. He was randomly clicking buttons and the keyboard, and everything else his fingers came across. He found himself in word programs, in games, and on the internet. Due to his dealings with the Dursleys, he wasn't really an expert at computers. He hadn't even touched one before, with permission. He was immediately absorbed by the computer, as Willow absorbed her breakfast. He clicked on the base menu, a button that looked like an envelope.
Text popped up, and unable to stifle his curiosity, he read.
Recently Read Messages:
From: Oz
Subject: Sorry
From: Xander
Subject: Read Oz's first. If there's not one, call me.
From: Xander
Subject: Fault
From: Xander
Subject: [None]
New Messages:
From: Buffy
Subject: Want me to slay?
From: Cordy
Subject: Want me to kill?
From: Giles
Subject: Are you all right?
From: Xander
Subject: Will, answer me, or I'm going there.
Harry clicked on the top message with the cursor, which to his previous delight, followed his fingers. A new window opened as he clicked.
To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com
From: "Oz" WolfBoyhotmail.com
Subject: Sorry.
Will,
I don't know how to say this, so I just will. I was touring with the band, and went to another show on our night off. There was a band, a singer called Veruca. She's a wolf…like me. It was the full moon, and I broke out of my cage.
Apparently I met her when I was wolfed out. No one got hurt, thank god.
Willow, she told me things, about being a wolf. How it's in me all the time. She's right. On the next day, I tried to convince her to stay in a cage. I didn't want her to hurt anyone, like I almost have a lot of times. I slept with her to get her to stay, I didn't see any other choice.
Xander found us, together, on the next morning. I'm sorry Willow. I'm leaving Sunnydale for a while. I've got to find a cure for this, and where I'm going probably won't have a computer. I've got to find a cure for this before I can't tell if I'm wolf or man.
I love you, and I'm sorry.
Oz.
Several things immediately became clear to Harry. First of all, he had expertly deduced (a/n: note the sarcasm) exactly why Willow had been so depressed the night before. Not only that, but she had been dating a werewolf, which meant that she probably wouldn't be too surprised to find out about magic, or that he learned it. He guiltily closed out of the program and shut the laptop.
Willow didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort. She was, indeed entirely absorbed in the last of her breakfast. She dragged the last triangle of pancake through the chocolate syrup before delightedly finishing her plate. She took a deep drink of the milk, and left a syrup lip-mark on the glass, to her amusement. "Wow, you're a really good cook. I can barely assemble a passable sandwich."
"Thanks." Harry answered and set about obliterating his own breakfast. "I've had a lot of practice."
Willow tried not to stare while he demolished his breakfast, but she hadn't seen any food disappear that quickly since Jesse and Xander had a contest when they were in eighth grade. Jesse had won, but both had been ill for the rest of the day. Willow just tried not to lecture them, knowing that they suffered enough. She felt an urge to tell him to slow down, but kept her mouth shut. He could figure out how to eat all by himself.
Harry finished his breakfast within moments and took his plate to the kitchen to begin washing their dishes. Suddenly, though he'd been rather comfortable with her for most of the morning, he felt awkward. He didn't know what to say to her. Part of him wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't say anything about it, because he wasn't supposed to know. He mentally cursed his own curiosity. To his surprise, when he washed the dishes, Willow accompanied him to dry them and put them away.
"Thanks."
"Well, you cooked." Willow shrugged as she put the last of the dishes away.
"I'm gonna go unpack." Harry spoke after a short uncomfortable silence. He hurried up to her room, and Willow returned to the dining room, retrieved her laptop and followed him upstairs. She could check her e-mail just as well in their shared room and maybe knowing that he was there would help her keep her emotions in check.
Harry's face was buried into his trunk—Willow noted, amused—as he began pulling books and clothes from it. She opened her laptop. To her surprise, her e-mail account was already open, but minimized. She opened it and was greeted with Oz's e-mail. She came to the quick realization that Harry must have stumbled over it when he was playing with her computer. She took a deep, steadying breath. Her first reaction was unsuited. She knew that he probably didn't use computers much in the magical establishment of his school.
In fact, it was probably an accident that he found it at all. It wouldn't be fair of her to just start yelling at him for something that may well have been a mistake. She paused for several moments, wondering what she was going to say. He obviously knew, she should've noticed his slight unease since playing with her computer. She finally spoke, her tone casual to mask the pain she felt almost too sharply.
"So, Harry…know any werewolves?"
(a/n: Yay! I updated. Yay! I got a hundred reviews! Yay! I learned how to cross stitch, and I'm doing this embroidery thingie. Yay! Unfortunately, doing this embroidery thingie hurts my eyes, the stitches are too small. Boo! And another Boo! My fingers hurt soooo badly, like they're going to fall off. I stuck myself a lot with the stupid thingie. That needle may be dull, but still…poke yourself enough, and ouch. Hoped y'all liked it!)