I don't want to talk about it// L.S.

A few days later—days full of studying but also of interesting conversations—I found myself once again standing in front of house number 369.

Harry opened the door, but he seemed to be in a different mood than in the past few days.

"Good morning," he mumbled sleepily and headed upstairs, telling me to close the door behind me.

After taking off my shoes, I went up and found Harry sprawled out in bed.

"You've got to be kidding me—still in bed?" I shook my head and walked over to him.

"Today, I just don't feel like doing anything. I just want to sleep," I muttered and pulled the blanket over my head.

"Oh really? You think it's that easy? What if you had to go to school?" I heard his voice above me.

"Then I just wouldn't go. Like I haven't been going lately," I replied without hesitation.

"You're serious?" I tried one last time.

"Dead serious. You're not getting me out of bed today," I said.

"All right, fine. You don't have to study today—but the sun's shining, so you can at least lounge outside. I'll prep the tests for next week out there too," I offered a compromise. He'd been doing everything I asked—sometimes even more—so letting up for one day wasn't the end of the world.

I pulled the blanket off him and waited until he finally got out of bed.

Honestly, I had to talk myself into even sitting up. I'd had nightmares again and barely got any sleep. Some days were just like that—I couldn't get out of bed or function like a normal person. At least today I forced myself to do the basics like brushing my teeth.

I threw a blanket over my shoulders, the one that had been lying at the foot of the bed, and headed out through the back door into the garden. We had three lounge chairs under the covered patio, so I laid down on one and pulled the blanket over me. I peeked open one eye and watched the teacher set his bag down and place his laptop on his lap.

The sun—pretty strong by now—lit up his face, and a soft breeze occasionally blew strands of hair into his eyes, making him keep tucking them behind his ear.

I knew he was watching me. It wasn't the first time, and by now, I could just sense it. But when I turned toward him, he shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

I had to come up with a test about the Thirty Years' War for next week, and I didn't want to ask questions like "How long do you think it lasted?"—so I was trying to make it a bit more creative.

I was pulled out of a dreamless sleep by a hand on my forehead—so smooth and gentle that for a second I thought I was still somewhere between sleep and waking.

After almost two hours, I had finished four tests—not bad at all. Harry had been dozing next to me the whole time; he must've been really tired. Once I felt like I had nothing else to do, I decided to wake him up so we could go over a bit of math.

First I just spoke to him, but he didn't move—like he was a thousand miles away and couldn't hear me. I considered shaking him awake but figured that wouldn't be the nicest way. So instead, I brushed some messy hair off his forehead and was about to flick him there playfully when he beat me to it and opened his eyes.

"Harry, wake up. I think you've had enough vitamin D for one day," I heard him say. So I opened my eyes, not even realizing that I hadn't reacted negatively to his touch like I usually did. He noticed, too, glancing at his hand like he expected me to swat it away.