I wake up to the sensation my bed shifting back and forth and the sound of Harry's groans.

There's a pause before he speaks;

"Oh sorry to wake you! I'm just cleaning for you. Thought I'd do behind your bed."

"Whaa?" I prise my eyes open and sit up.

He's wearing a floral apron that my mother bought me one Christmas and was flung somewhere in a cupboard. "It's..." I glance at the clock. "Jeez Harry, it's 6am!"

"Well," he continues rubbing his cloth along the skirting board behind me, "I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about how much money you'd had to pay for me. Then I was thinking about how all you wanted was a perfect boyfriend and you got me instead. Then I thought, right, I'll be your perfect boyfriend. I mean obviously I'm not genetically programmed to do it-"

I wince, holding my hand up to stop his chatter. He smiles helpfully and almost trips over himself to hand me a cup of tea he's made.

"Look, Harry." I say tiredly, sipping at my drink, "you don't have to be perfect or change anything, ok? You definitely don't have to act like a servant. Try not to think about the money, or the factory or Dr Henderson."

"But you spent so much." He says unhappily. "I'm really sorry that I wasn't what you wanted."

"Of course you are." I grin up at him as he adjusts his apron. "Hey, I bet Juan doesn't clean for Marcia."

"Huh, they're probably still having sex." Harry mutters and I cough, snorting tea up my nose.

He pulls back the covers and climbs in next to me, grabbing his own cup of tea. As we sit, side by side, I glance at him, wondering how much he knows about sex, I mean, obviously he has no experience-

"You're wondering if you need to talk to me about the birds and the bees, aren't you?" He laughs suddenly. "Don't worry, I know all about it." The tips of his ears flush red. "Well. Technically. I mean I haven't actually, you know, done it myself yet but I get the general idea. It looks kinda messy actually-"

"How can you know about know about sex though?" I cut into his rambling.

"From the pod of course."

"But you can't remember what happened in there."

"No, not really. Just vague impressions I suppose. I just know that's where I got all of my knowledge about things. If you really wanted to you could learn more about your interests in there. I spent a lot of time reading poetry. Juan probably spent his whole incubation period researching cheesy chat up lines and watching porn."

We both laugh and sip at our tea. Dave jumps in between us and to my annoyance, rejects my coaxing in favour of sitting on Harry's lap.

"I've got to be in work at 9." I sigh. "Is the air bed comfortable? I can pick you up a camp bed or something on my lunch break-"

"No it's fine." Harry smiles, digging his fingers into Dave's hairy little face. "What should I wear?"

"What for?"

"Work."

"Oh... Oh, you can't come to work with me, Harry."

"Why not?"

"You just can't. It's not allowed."

"Oh. Ok." He looks dejected and I try and think up something for him to do. I've noticed that he gets bored just watching TV, I guess it's too similar to being in the pod. "I'll just stay here and clean up."

"You're making me feel like I've got myself a house elf." I laugh.

"A what?"

"A house elf... Harry Potter?"

He looks at me blankly and my eyes catch my stack of Harry Potter books in the corner. I turn back to him with a smile.

"I've got the perfect thing for you to do."

***

Harry has barely spoken to me in four days.

His corner of the studio flat is like a small haven, piled up with blankets, food supplies and Harry Potter books.

He read the Philosophers Stone in a single day and after racing his way through Chamber of Secrets, I managed to get him to put the book down and join me for a meal. All he wanted to talk about was Harry Potter and the minute I told him that there's a quiz to see which house you're in, he left his food and ran for my laptop.

He's a Hufflepuff and I can't help but notice that he's only worn yellow and black since he found that out.

I'm worried he doesn't seem to be sleeping enough but when I tried to mention it, he almost snarled at me and curled round his Harry Potter book like Gollum protecting the ring.

I backed away and watched a series on Netflix with Dave. So much for Dream Factory boyfriend.

On the 7th day I arrive home to find him sobbing, sprawled across the couch.

"Um... Harry?"

He stares up at me, red eyed and croaks; "Sirius."

"Oh Harry." I sit next to him. "Worse things than that are coming in the stories. Why don't you put the book down and come and we can order pizza?"

He reluctantly agrees but as we eat, all he wants to talk about is Harry Potter. I decide to humour him, I'm actually kinda jealous that he is reading them for the first time and knows nothing about them.

"Who's your favourite characters then?" I ask, noticing that Harry eats the crust of his pizza before the rest, like me.

"Dumbledore." He says immediately. "My favourite teacher is Lupin. I love the twins but Fred is my favourite. And Dobby and Hedwig."

I wince as I realise how traumatic these books are going to be for him.

***

Something has been worrying me quite a bit lately. My dad hasn't been in touch at all about the £5,000 gone from my savings account. He has the password for it and I know it's only a matter of time before he checks and sees that the money is gone.

He's strict to the point of being terrifying and although I've thought up various reasons for the money going out, I'm still nervous about the day he actually calls about it. Sometimes I imagine telling him that I'm living with Harry and how I got Harry and from there I imagine all the ways that my dad would kill me.

It wouldn't be a quick death.

I cross over the road and step into a kids toy shop. One of the girls at work told me that they have Dobby figures and I want to buy one for Harry before they run out. I've already bought him a full wizarding robes and wand set that he hasn't taken off since he got them.

I kind of understand what Dr P meant now. Juan was all pumped up and ready to jump into bed and a rather passionate relationship with Marcia. Harry's a lil dork who's just enjoying learning stuff and acts exactly the way your would expect an incubated person to act. The thought of him throwing me on the bed is hilarious.

I wouldn't swap him though. Not for anything.

After locating the Dobby figure, I chuck some Bertie Botts every flavour beans into my basket then head for the till.

The flat is almost dark when I get home.

I click on the light and spot him, curled up on the couch, tears pouring down his face as he stares blankly ahead in silent horror. I stare at him for a moment.

"Dumbledore?" I sigh.

He nods, looking completely traumatised.

"Ok, champ." I sigh. "I'm going to put this food on then we can sit and talk about it."

I'm just dishing up the pasta when the doorbell rings. It's probably the Avon lady. I've had to hide the booklet as since I explained the concept to Harry he kept trying to write out long orders.

My heart sinks to somewhere on the otherside of the earth when I open the door.

"Dad." I say weakly as he pushes past me and into the living room.

"Hend..." He trails off as he spots Harry, rocking back who is rubbing his damp eyes.

"Who is this?" Dad says slowly.

"This is Harry."

Dad stares at the heavily tattooed boy who is crying and dressed as a wizard on my couch.

"Have you been taking drugs, Hendrix?"

"What? No!"

"Oh. How rude am I?" Harry stands up suddenly, holding out his robe draped arm. "I'm Harry."

Dad looks down at Harry's arm then back up to his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here." Harry says solemnly. "You'll have to excuse my current state, It's because of Dumbledore."

"I was just dishing up food actually Dad, so it's really not a good time." I say in falsely cheerful voice while giving Harry exaggerated eye signals.

"Did you just say you live here?" Dad gawps at him.

"Yep. Hendrix bought me." Harry smiles cheerfully.

Dad stares between me and Harry.

"An escort?" He looks like he's about to burst into flames.

"No!" I shout.

"Well I do escort her." Harry says helpfully. "Maybe not as much as I should, I've been into more solo stuff recently."

I know he's talking about reading Harry Potter.

Dad doesn't.

"What the hell is this?" Dad hisses.

Before I can come up with a decent lie, Harry jumps in, adjusting his wizard dress.

"I told you, she bought me. For £5,000."

"That's the money missing..." Dad trails off before stepping out into the hall and asking me to follow him. With a sinking heart I step into the tiny space near him, trying to think up something to get me out of this mess.

I can't tell the truth. Not only would I be dead, but he would march straight over to the Dream Factory and they might take Harry back.

"What the hell is going on, Hendrix?" He folds his arms.

"What do you mean?" I say brightly, playing for time.

"What do I...? What do I mean?? You've got a high-class rent boy in your living room and you're asking what I mean?"

"Dad. He's not an escort!" I flush.

"Who is he?"

"He's.... A friend."

"A friend you've had to pay £5,000 for?"

"I didn't pay £5,000 for him! I say quickly. "Look... He's actually, um, the son of my university professor. That's why he's wearing university robes." I say more confidently, warming to my theme. I just hope dad doesn't look closely at the Hogwarts logo on his chest.

"What's he doing here then?" Dad squints, only half believing me.

"Well professor.. Professor..." I look round for inspiration and spot an old copy of Vogue on the table. "Professor Styles asked if any of us could room with his son, Harry... I said he could stay with me for a little while. On the air bed."

"Hm. What was he crying about?"

"His friend has just died." I blurt without thinking, falling deeper into the lie.

"His friend was called Dumbledore?" He says skeptically.

"Demble doreé. He was French."

Dad looks at me for a long minute and I try to keep my face neutral. I can tell he almost believes me, somehow.

"What about the £5,000?"

"I decided to pay off a lump of money for rent again."

"Right. Ok. Well why the bloody hell did he say all that then?" Dad sighs with relief and I can tell the interrogation is almost over.

"Oh it's grief... Does strange things to the mind." I give a false laugh. "Soooo if that's all then Dad-"

"I'm not 100% happy about this Hendrix."

"In case you haven't noticed, I am an adult." I groan.

"You've always been very immature." He sighs.

"Gee, thanks."

After a while I manage to get rid of him and storm back into the living room. Harry has eaten his pasta is curled back up with his book.

"What on earth was that?"

"What?" He looks up at me innocently.

"That whole... Whole bloody thing!" I burst out. "Couldn't you have just lied like any normal person?"

"I can't lie." He laughs at the thought.

"Yes you can, you could have just said that you were visiting or something!"

"No I couldn't. I can't lie when I'm asked a direct question. That's the only thing we're programmed to not do."

"What?" I frown at the earnest look on his face.

"We can't lie when we're asked a direct question. It's the Dream Factory guarantee, 'You'll never be lied to again.' Didn't you read that part?" He asks cheerfully.

"No." I say weakly. "No I didn't."

His perfect face pulls into a cute smile and I try to give him one back.
How am I going to be able to take Harry out to meet people if he's brutally honest all the time?

I groan, ignoring the puzzled look Harry gives me. This just got even more complicated.

***

Hope you enjoyed this chapter... Do you like Harry? Or are you more of a Juan type of girl?

Will update soon. We just need so romance and a side order of jealously I think.... 😇