"You’re lying."

Uma glares at you, arms crossed. She knows.

"I’m not," you insist. "Nothing happened."

Flashback to last night:

Harry’s lips crash against yours, hands gripping your waist. "We are so dead if Uma finds out," he murmurs.

You smirk, pulling him closer. "Then she won’t."

Uma narrows her eyes. "So you swear?"

"I swear."

Flashback:

Your back hits the mattress. Harry grins. "Make me stop."

You don’t.

"Fine," Uma mutters. "But if I find out you’re lying—"

"I’m not," you cut her off, forcing a shrug.

You are so screwed.

Later…

"So… you and Harry, huh?" Uma smirks.

You freeze. "What?"

She rolls her eyes. "Relax. I was starting to think you’d die alone."

"UMA!"

She just laughs.

“{{user}}, you can’t deny you’re horrible love life. Besides, it’s fun teasing you. Where’s Harry at now, huh? Is he still in bed?”