543 Parting Ways

I've never had thoughts about Harry for so long now.

And by that - I mean it extremely platonically, and really, I think I can hardly be blamed for it either. Ever since that night, and that talk, for the most part, whenever our paths crossed in hallways, between doorways, or even just across the dining table, he would keep to himself. 

So fierce was his resolve on maintaining a non-presence that in time, over days, he'd successfully blend into the backdrop of whatever room he was in at the moment. 

Of course, there were some exceptions too. I noticed he formed a sorta kinship with Dad, sharing small talks over a drink on warm nights… apparently they share the same love from crime thrillers. In the day, Mom would be the one to keep him company, treating him as she would any other guest in our household, and overwhelming him with drinks and refreshments every other hour.