Novel & Cerita Harry Potter Smoking

CARINA As soon as I got in the house, I saw him seated on the couch in the living room smoking. This got me really surprised because the Harry I know would never go near smoke. This is not the man I used to call my best friend. Harry has changed a lot since I met him. He's suddenly so wealthy, he's violent and now he even abducts people just to get what he wants. That's not the sweet, loving and caring Harry I used to know.

He answered and opened the candy. He was kind. "Do you smoke?" I ask. "Before, but when Mom got sick. I avoided it." He answered and squeezed the candy in his mouth. "You want?" He reached for the mentos. I would have accepted but he opened it first and gave it to me. "Thank you. I just noticed, in the press about your family's business I always see Harry. On television, in the news. You don't show up?" I asked in astonishment. I could feel the coldness of the mentos in my mouth so I sip it.

I stare at him, then grab a bottle of water and head to the room. I sit up against the headboard, legs crossed, and turn on the TV. “What you watching?” he asks. “I don’t know. Something on N*****x. What do you wanna watch?” “Something good for the baby,” he says. I blink. “Like what?” “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.” I stare at him. “Are you serious? You’re a pothead.” “I am not a pothead,” he argues. “But yes, I wanna watch Harry Potter.”

The little woman’s petite body with her red hair tied into pigtails with flour and oil stains on her face and apron hugging the tall muscular man in his impeccably black tailored suit was too eye-catching. “You were cooking?” Morgan had already put two and two together and realized what might have happened. “Hm,” Alexa nodded, looking at Morgan shyly. “It's just that I don't know what happened, and then the food started to burn, and when I wanted to take it off the stove, the rug caught fire, and then there was smoke everywhere,” she explained seriously. Morgan smiled at Alexa, making the two men look at him in awe. Morgan's cold face was illegally handsome already; combined with the added s

Henry puffed on a cigarette which he took out from his coat, and searched for his lighter in his pocket which he found eventually. He sat in the cafeteria, and lit his cigar, puffing on it creating heavy smoke in the air. “Unless it is a good occasion I don’t smoke. But today seems like a good day. I’ll smoke two.” The corner of his lips curled into a satisfying smile. “She must have been in a pickle now, thinking where all the remaining parts of those papers have disappeared to.”

Dane was the first to ask, noticing by their expressions that something was not going according to plan. “Come with us.” We followed, walking through the kingdom at a hurried pace. Barrett led us to Blake’s room, opening the door to reveal that bright orange hair along with Grandpa’s silver hair. They were both working over a center desk full of flasks and burners, looking more like chemistry than magic. Their concoction started to boil over, filling the room with a thick smoke. Everyone began to cough as we fanned our faces, trying to keep the smoke from penetrating our lungs. With a quick flick of the wrist and some foreign word, the smoke was sucked away as if it had never happened.

“Oh, how I love Amber.” She jerks up, still carefully not to have her legs fall off Mr. Happy-Smile’s lap. “Sorry, babe! I forgot to ask for cigarettes.” I'm about to wave my hand dismissively at her to tell her not to worry as Ron beats me to it. “Don’t worry, I’ve plenty.” Ron takes a cigarette pack out of the inside pocket of his grey suit jacket and opens it for me to take one. “If you fancy one of mine.” I wrinkle my nose as I see the brand he is smoking, and he reads my expression right away.

He’s wearing the same black long coat he was wearing when he left in the morning. It’s a chilly night and goosebumps rise on my bare arms as soon as the cool air hits me. I rub my hands over my skin and almost call out his name when something catches my attention. A cloud of white smoke rises from his lips and rises towards the sky. I remain rooted to the spot. Is he smoking? He doesn’t smoke. He used to, in high school. But he wasn’t smoking three years ago and I had no idea he had gotten back to it.

He draws smoke from his lips like a smoke dragon.

I wondered how he was able to live without girls lining up at his door every day. "If you're done with what you're looking at, you can come here," he said. My eyes blinked, bringing me back to reality. I watched him pick up a cigarette from the ashtray and light it up. I hated the smell of smoke; if I inhaled too much, I might get high without even puffing it. I covered my nose tightly, breathing through my mouth as I walked to him gently. "What? You don't like this?" he asked, and I nodded my head. He smirked softly before putting out the smoke. I was surprised. Did he do that because of me, or was it just my imagination?