Kori was floating. Literally. Hovering three inches off the kitchen floor in fuzzy alien socks that had stars on them—actual stars, not the cartoony Earth kind—while rummaging through a cabinet like it held the secrets of the universe. Judging by her face, it might've.
She hummed a Tamaranian lullaby, which sounded somewhere between a space opera and a lullaby from a Disney musical performed entirely by electric violins. The kind of thing that should not have been soothing but… weirdly was.
And she was glowing. Just a little. Like a lava lamp that had discovered joy.
At the doorway, Raven stood motionless. Arms folded. One foot angled like she might turn and phase through the wall, because emotions. Ugh.
"Kori," Raven said, soft but sharp. Like a scalpel made of awkward.
The humming stopped mid-note. Kori turned with the kind of smile that could probably convince hostile aliens to give peace a chance. Or at least a group hug.
"Rae!" she beamed. "Did you come to join me in the ceremonial tasting of the cocoa of hotness? It has the tiny marshmallow warriors who float upon the surface like defeated enemies!"
Raven blinked. Slowly. Like her brain was buffering.
"…No. Not exactly."
Kori tilted her head—cute, concerned, and somehow glowing more. Raven suspected Kori had emotions the way normal people had blood: everywhere, and completely uncontainable.
"What is wrong, friend Raven?" she asked, her tone turning instantly gentle. Which of course made Raven more nervous.
Raven looked anywhere but at her—above her, past her, into another dimension—anything to not feel all of this. Her fingers clenched around her sleeves like they were the only thing keeping her upright.
"I need to ask something," she mumbled. "And if you laugh, I'll teleport you to the Mariana Trench and let the anglerfish handle it."
Kori did not laugh. She didn't even grin. She floated down and stood in front of her like she was preparing for a Tamaranian vow ceremony.
Raven took a breath. Another. Wished for death. And then—
"If Harry and I…" she began, then blurted, "—if we, you know, do it—I want you there."
Silence.
Not awkward silence. Not even dramatic silence. This was multiversal, awkward-deity-level silence. Even the marshmallows stopped floating like they were trying to process the moment.
"…There?" Kori repeated, blinking. "As in… in the room of the bed?"
Raven let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream trapped in a black hole.
"Not in the creepy, space voyeur way," she hissed. "Just. Like. Nearby. In case I freak out. Or astral punch him into another dimension. Or start screaming and bring down the building. Or all three. I don't know, Kori. I'm new at this. And terrifying."
Kori blinked once. Twice. And then—her entire face turned into the human embodiment of understanding.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, clasping Raven's hands with both of hers. "Of course! I shall be the support of the morals! I shall bring the calming music, and the incense of lavender, and perhaps a sword, in case of danger!"
"…Please don't bring a sword."
"Only a small one!"
"Kori."
"A butter knife?"
"Kori."
"An emotional support spork?"
"I swear to every dimension—"
"I joke!" Kori giggled. Then, more seriously (which for her meant 80% sincerity and 20% sparkle), she squeezed Raven's hands. "You are nervous. This is normal. Beautiful, even. You are like a chrysanthemum about to bloom under moonlight, and I will be your rock. Your foundation of calmness. Your metaphorical emotional bra."
Raven blinked. "That might be the most horrifyingly accurate thing you've ever said."
"I shall be your Victoria's Secret," Kori whispered solemnly.
Raven groaned into her hoodie. "Please stop saying underwear brands like they're ancient Tamaranian battle oaths."
"You are most welcome!" Kori said cheerfully, as if Raven had just thanked her for saving the universe.
She released her hands and floated back to her cocoa like the conversation had been about yoga or taxes or literally anything less universe-shattering than Raven's first time.
Raven stayed frozen in place. Her brain was playing tug-of-war between gratitude and utter mortification. Kori being Kori made it all worse—and also, somehow, okay?
She was still trying to sort out her emotional mess when—
From the other room, Harry Potter sneezed.
Which, for reasons no one could explain, meant somehow… he knew.
The psychic death glare began charging. Power Level: Mega Doom Glare.
3… 2… 1…
—
Let me start by saying: I've faced Death Eaters, survived Voldemort twice, and once caught Bruce Wayne trying to decode TikTok like it was an alien war code. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for the ambush waiting in my own bedroom.
Spoiler: it wasn't Raven. Not yet.
I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling like it might cough up the meaning of life. Nope. Just a crack shaped suspiciously like Hedwig judging me from the afterlife.
The girls—Kara, DeeDee, Tia, Zee, M'gann, and Mareena—had all very generously evacuated the scene. You know, in that stealthy superhero girlfriend way. Which meant: Kara was flying loops over Tokyo, DeeDee was "grim reaping" a jazz musician in New Orleans (because even Death has hobbies), Tia vanished with her phone and spicy ramen, Mareena was somewhere underwater wrestling a Kraken for cardio, Zatanna had a rehearsal-slash-demon-exorcism, and M'gann phased through the roof muttering, "Don't mind me, I'm just ambient support."
Tonight was Raven's night.
Our night.
Assuming I survived it with my dignity intact. Which, frankly, wasn't looking great.
I was doing the responsible thing. Meditating. Centering my emotions. Mentally reviewing the fifty-seven ways Raven might accidentally unleash Armageddon mid-makeout.
And then—like the herald of Olympus herself—Diana showed up.
"Harry," she said from the doorway, all calm and glowy like an Amazonian goddess who would flip a tank if I didn't hydrate.
I groaned. "Please don't say it."
"We need to talk."
Of course.
If the phrase 'we need to talk' had a logo, it would be Diana's smirking face holding a PowerPoint titled 'So You're Sleeping with a Daughter of Darkness.'
"I swear on Merlin's beard, if this is The Talk—"
"I'm your honorary mother figure," she said, stepping inside like she owned the Batcave. "Of course it's The Talk. Bruce outsourced it to me. Clark blushed and fled. Arthur? Just laughed and wished you luck."
"Pretty sure that's child endangerment."
"Pretty sure you're about to do something endangering." She crossed her arms in that 'I fought gods and I will ground you' posture. "Now. Let's discuss protection."
I launched my face into a pillow. "Diana. Wizards. Have. Contraceptive. Charms."
Her eyebrow twitched. "FDA approved?"
"MoM-regulated, wand-certified, and a legal requirement for Hogwarts students attending Yule Balls."
She was about to reply when—because my life is a sitcom—Kara's voice drifted in from the hall.
"You mean the blue one with the sparkly twist at the end?"
I didn't scream. I just vibrated with secondhand embarrassment.
"I like the citrus scent," DeeDee added lazily, probably lounging upside-down on a floating scythe somewhere.
"You cast it on me with your left hand once," Zatanna said, poking her head in. "Which was bold, considering the angle—"
"TMI!" I yelped.
"Oh, please," Tia's voice called. "You used it during that rooftop stakeout. I saw the wand flick. Subtle."
"I taught him the counter-charm," M'gann said cheerfully from the ceiling. "In case of magical accidents. Or passion-driven spell misfires."
Mareena strolled past my door sipping coconut water. "Honestly thought you were just that precise. Impressive."
Diana looked like she was going to cry. Out of pride.
"I trained him well."
"I hate all of you," I muttered into my hands.
"You love all of us," Kara teased, stepping in now with that Milly-Alcock-as-Kryptonian smirk. "That's the problem."
Tia leaned in too, blonde hair tousled like a shampoo ad gone rogue. "Honestly? This is why we adore you. Confident. Charismatic. Contraceptive-aware."
"I'm never going to live this down."
"Not while we live," DeeDee said, suddenly appearing beside me like a goth Cheshire Cat with eyeliner. "Or after, probably."
I sighed dramatically and looked at Diana. "Can I die now?"
"You can die after Raven's first time doesn't result in demonic possession."
Well, when you put it like that.
But beneath all the chaos and teasing, I could feel it—the quiet buzz of something real. The way they gave space without disappearing. The way Kori offered to stay with Raven. The way Kara touched my shoulder on the way out like, We got you, Chief.
I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced at the door.
Still closed.
Still quiet.
And then…
A soft knock. Three taps. Deliberate. Controlled. Like someone working up the courage to enter a dragon's cave.
Another knock. Louder. Brighter. Slightly glittery.
Raven. And Kori.
I stood, heart suddenly doing jazzercise. I smoothed my shirt. Adjusted my hair. Took a deep breath.
Game time.
And whatever happened next…
Well, I was Harry Potter.
I'd survived death. I'd survived gods.
Tonight, I'd survive love.
(Assuming no one burst into flames.)
—
Three knocks.
Soft. Precise. Like someone was trying to politely summon me and bury their anxiety six feet under my welcome mat.
Then—bam. A second set, like the door owed someone money and glitter.
I knew that knock. That knock came with sass, sparkles, and at least three dramatic exits.
I shot to my feet so fast I almost threw out my spine. Not my dignity, though. That tragically passed away earlier today when Diana gave me a stern lecture titled "Protecting the Multiverse and Your Bits: A Condomed Crusader's Guide."
Spoiler: there were diagrams.
I opened the door.
Raven stood there, swathed in midnight blue, eyes rimmed in a smoky liner that screamed don't look at me unless you're ready to see your own soul. Her hands were folded like she was trying not to unleash a shadow demon, and her blush could've powered the Tower for a week.
Next to her?
Kori.
Floating three inches off the ground. Radiating literal golden shimmer like she'd just moisturized with bottled sunshine. Dressed like a cosmic Bollywood goddess, with enough glitter to trigger an epilepsy warning.
"Hi," Raven whispered, eyes flicking up to meet mine before retreating like I was a Death Eater in a Speedo.
"Hey," I said, gently holding out my hand. "You made it."
"Well…" Kori began, already sashaying into my room like she paid rent. "Technically, I delivered us. Raven was pacing in circles, quoting Rainer Maria Rilke like a goth Roomba, so I zapped us here before she opened a Hellmouth by accident."
"I was not quoting Rilke."
"She was," Kori stage-whispered to me, dropping gracefully onto the couch with a flip of her hair. "Also, she was sighing like a Victorian ghost who's lost their favorite teacup."
Raven groaned. "Remind me why I haven't banished you to another dimension yet?"
"Because I'm adorable," Kori beamed, then wiggled her fingers at me. "Also because I threatened to sing 'Toxic' through the base's intercom system at 3 a.m. if she didn't get off her emotional butt and talk to you."
I blinked. "Wait—Britney Spears 'Toxic'?"
Kori leaned in like it was a state secret. "With full choreography."
Raven looked skyward like she was begging the universe for strength. "I regret everything."
I stepped toward her, close enough to see her aura twitch—shadows curling protectively around her like cats deciding whether to nap or kill. "You look amazing, Rae."
She swallowed. "Don't call me that unless you're prepared to deal with the emotional fallout."
"Challenge accepted."
I glanced at Kori, who was kicking her feet like she was watching a rom-com in surround sound. "You know you don't have to third-wheel this hard."
"Oh, but I live for this," Kori said brightly. "You two are my OTP. My goth-glam power couple. My emotional disastercore ship."
"Please stop saying words," Raven muttered.
"Can't," I said. "She's legally required to narrate all romantic progress like a fanfic author on a deadline."
Raven sighed. "Why do I like either of you?"
"Because I make your darkness feel seen," I offered.
"And I sparkle like the dawn!" Kori added, throwing up jazz hands.
"Also," I added, smirking, "because deep down, you're a sucker for charming British wizards with trauma and excellent cheekbones."
Raven gave me a look. "If I roll my eyes any harder, I'll astral project."
I stepped closer, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You don't have to be perfect tonight. You don't even have to be okay. Just… be here. With me."
Her breath caught. "Even if I—accidentally summon a rage demon mid-makeout?"
"Especially then," I said. "I once snogged Ginny during a basilisk hunt. Pretty sure I can handle a little background horror."
She stared at me for a second. Then kissed me.
Soft. Slow. Like testing the water before diving into the deep end.
Behind us, Kori made a sound that was one-third squeal, one-third joyful weeping, and one-third dramatic gasp.
"Oh. My. Stars," she whispered. "You're actually kissing! Like—mouths!"
Raven broke away with a groan. "Kori, I swear to Azar—"
"I told you you were ready," Kori said, practically glowing with pride. "You were just being a mopey little void cupcake."
Raven turned to me, her voice a low murmur. "You really want this? Us?"
"I want you," I said simply. "And Kori. And a night where none of us are saving the world or getting hit by a collapsing building. I want something real."
Raven looked like she might bolt or melt or combust. Maybe all three. "I'm terrified."
"Cool," I said, slipping my hands around her waist. "Me too."
Her eyes widened. "You're scared?"
"Of course I am. You matter. That's terrifying."
She blinked, then smiled. A small, broken thing—like hope peeking out of the shadows. And then she kissed me again. Hotter. Deeper. Like she'd decided I was worth the risk.
Kori cleared her throat.
"Oh, don't mind me," she said, fluttering over. "Just absorbing the vibes. Which, by the way, are off-the-charts steamy."
I turned to her with a grin. "Jealous?"
Her eyes sparkled. "Insatiably."
I kissed her too.
Her lips were fire. Light. Laughter. She tasted like mango lip balm and starlight and mischief. Raven, beside us, rolled her eyes but didn't stop us. She just leaned against my shoulder like she belonged there.
Which—she did.
"You two are ridiculous," Raven said dryly, arms wrapping around both of us.
"And you love it," I replied.
Kori purred. "She really does."
We flopped back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and giggles and hormones. My hands brushed Kori's waist. Raven's fingers laced through mine. For once, the world outside didn't matter.
Then, like the universe couldn't leave us alone for ten seconds, M'gann's voice echoed from the ceiling.
"Use the blue charm!"
Raven went still.
I glared upward. "M'GANN, I WILL UNLEASH A BOGGART IN YOUR SHOWER."
"You know she'll probably like that," Raven muttered.
"Only if it shapeshifts into Megan Wheeler," Kori added helpfully.
"...Valid," I conceded. "Still, not the point."
Raven shook her head. "We really don't get normal, do we?"
I pulled her closer. Kissed her temple. "Normal's overrated."
She smiled.
And for the first time in what felt like forever—
So did I.
—
I've fought dragons. Literal ones. I've been hexed into a chicken, accidentally challenged Death to arm wrestling, and once got stuck in a pocket dimension where every sentence ended with "bro." None of that prepared me for this.
My bed. My room. My heartbeat doing parkour in my chest.
Raven was curled under my left arm, cold fingers gently tracing the scar on my sternum like it held all the answers to the universe. Kori was sprawled across my chest like she was the universe, one leg possessively thrown over mine, hair glowing and warm like bottled starlight, and absolutely not respecting the concept of gravity or personal space.
Also, she was playing connect-the-freckles on my collarbone.
With her tongue.
So yeah. Tuesday.
"If this ends with me possessed by a demon, covered in glitter, or both," I said, valiantly keeping my voice from cracking like a teen pop star on live radio, "just know—I regret nothing."
Kori tilted her head like a curious puppy. Her hair fell over my face, smelling like sunshine and cinnamon and just a hint of alien fruit. "You say that now, beloved, but have you tasted glitter? It gets in your teeth. Forever. Like shame."
"She would know," Raven said without looking up, her voice the audible equivalent of black eyeliner. "She sneezed glitter for a week after that New Year's thing."
"I sparkled with dignity," Kori huffed proudly, her fingers now drawing lazy circles on my abs. "It was… festive."
"Festive?" I snorted. "Kori, you lit up the security cameras. Batman had to recalibrate the satellites."
Kori beamed. "I was a radiant disco beacon of joy. You're welcome."
Raven sighed, her breath cold on my skin. "Why am I here again?"
"Because," I said, smirking down at her, "despite your best efforts, you love me. And admit it, my sarcasm is the only thing that makes your inner demon roll its eyes."
She glanced up, deadpan. "You're like caffeine for my emotional damage."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Don't."
"Too late."
Kori leaned in, pressing a glowing kiss just beneath my jaw. "Do I get to bite him now, or is it still Raven's turn?"
"Bite me and I swear I will yeet you into the sun," Raven muttered.
"Promises, promises," I whispered.
I was joking. Mostly.
There was a pause. The kind of pause you only get when you're lying between two stunningly powerful women who could kill you, resurrect you, and then kill you again—just to make a point.
"So," I said slowly, "real talk… how does this work? Do we alternate Tuesdays? Is there, like, a magical Google Calendar for polyamorous chaos? Should I invest in color-coded robes?"
Kori's eyes sparkled. "Can mine have sequins?"
"Only if I get to enchant them to dance."
Raven narrowed her eyes at me. "If you start singing 'Dancing Queen' again, I will curse your vocal cords to only work in sea shanties."
Kori gasped. "Can you do that?! That sounds delightful!"
"I hate both of you," Raven declared flatly.
I grinned. "That's fair."
Then Kori cupped my face, tilting my chin until our eyes locked. Her thumb traced my bottom lip like she was trying to memorize it.
"Harry," she said, softly.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
And then she kissed me.
Kori didn't kiss like a normal person. No gentle testing of the waters. No shy hesitation. No, she kissed like fire. Like starlight with a deadline. Like she wanted to devour me and taste every single second of my lifespan.
It stole my breath. And I liked my breath.
Then Raven's lips found the hollow of my throat, and her cold fingers tangled in my hair, and suddenly my brain was doing backflips while also filing emotional tax returns.
"Wow," I said when I could think again. "I must've saved a whole planet in a past life."
"You were a planet," Kori said dreamily, resting her forehead against mine. "A very cute, reckless, mildly dense planet."
"You're the dense one," Raven muttered. "He tried to flirt with a lich once."
"I was being diplomatic!"
"You asked if she wanted to 'bone.'"
"It was a skeleton pun! It was funny!"
"It wasn't."
Kori giggled like a sunbeam. "I laughed."
"You always laugh."
"You make me happy."
Those four words. Just… wow.
I looked between them. Raven's eyes were softer now, vulnerable, like the mask she wore for the world had slipped. Kori glowed with open affection, as if her love was a physical thing she couldn't stop from radiating.
I was surrounded by love. Powerful, terrifying, absolutely undeserved love.
And yet... I didn't feel overwhelmed. I felt home.
"I love you," Raven whispered, voice barely audible. "You chaotic, reckless idiot."
"I adore you," Kori added, nuzzling my cheek. "You are my star."
My chest swelled with something fierce and stupid and honest.
"I am so out of my league."
"Yes," Raven said.
"Absolutely," Kori added.
"Perfect," I said, pulling them both closer. "I'd hate to be bored."
—
There are moments in life that stick with you forever.
Your first wand. Your first kiss. Your first time accidentally blowing up your potions professor. (Sorry, Snape. Well. Not really.)
And then there's this.
The morning after.
Post-spellcasting. Post-Kori. Post-whoa.
I lay there shirtless—possibly missing a few vertebrae (thank you, Princess Pulverize-My-Spine)—tangled in sheets that smelled like ozone, lavender, a splash of stardust, and something that suspiciously resembled glittery armpit sweat. Don't ask. I'm not.
Kori was draped across me like the world's hottest weighted blanket, one leg locked over my hip as if worried I'd levitate and leave her mid-snuggle. Spoiler alert: I'm not going anywhere. Ever. Not unless breakfast involves interplanetary pancakes.
Raven, on my other side, lay with her back turned—classic Raven move. Shoulders tense like she expected the ceiling to come crashing down, demons and all. One hand clutched the blanket like she'd use it to exorcise her feelings. Or me.
I reached out and brushed her wrist. "Hey. You okay?"
Silence.
Then, flat as an ancient tome on demonology: "I'm fine."
Oh no. The infamous F-word.
I shifted closer, pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade—because I'm sentimental like that—and whispered, "Liar."
She froze. Like someone just walked in on her journaling to Fall Out Boy.
"Look, I get it. Last night was kind of a big deal. Emotionally. Physically. Interdimensionally. We skipped right past the awkward coffee dates and dove headfirst into the deep end of Feelings Lake—with, like, live firecrackers strapped to our backs."
"You're ridiculous," she said, finally rolling over. Her mascara was smudged, her expression soft in that 'I will literally banish your soul if you tell anyone I'm blushing' sort of way.
"And yet," I said, grinning, "you didn't run."
"I was distracted."
"By my roguish charm and emotionally tormented soul?"
"No. By your thighs. They could bench-press a monster truck."
"Kori's been putting me on her warrior princess workout. Turns out Kryptonian muscle plus Tamaranean intensity equals weaponized glutes."
Raven blinked, then sighed. "Why do I like you again?"
"Because I'm annoyingly confident, emotionally available, and I once beat a demon in a game of Uno."
She didn't laugh—but her lips twitched. That's a full-blown belly laugh in Ravenese.
Kori yawned behind me, blinking her golden eyes open like the literal sunrise. "Mmm," she purred, stretching with the grace of a cat and the unintentional destruction of a small nuke. "That was… what is the word? Sublime? Ravishing? Cataclysmic?"
"You cracked the headboard," I said helpfully.
"I cracked three headboards," she corrected. "And possibly your pelvis. You are welcome."
I winced. "It was worth it."
She grinned and leaned in to kiss my cheek, then Raven's. "You both were magnificent. I believe the mattress may now be sentient."
Raven, still lying beside me, blinked in surprise. "Thanks… I think?"
"And you," Kori continued, turning to me with that fire-lit glow that made my brain short-circuit, "You are my beloved. My starfire. My Earth-boy of infinite stamina."
I waggled my eyebrows. "I'm multi-classed in wizard, hero, and marathon snuggler."
Raven deadpanned, "Don't forget emotional support himbo."
Kori beamed. "He is our emotional support himbo."
"Should I get a certificate?" I asked.
"Tattoo it on your butt," Raven muttered, eyes closing again.
"Tempting. Right cheek says 'Hero.' Left cheek says 'Trauma Responder.'"
"Don't make me fall harder," she said into the pillow.
"Too late."
She glanced up, and her voice dropped. "I've never… done this before. Not just the sex. The trust. The letting go. Letting someone in. Without shields. Without backup plans. Without a portal ready to yeet me to another dimension."
I took her hand. "I know. That's why I never pushed. You chose this. You chose us. That means everything."
"I hate how good you are at this," she mumbled.
"It's a curse. That and the fact that all my girlfriends are walking goddess-level powerhouses with abandonment issues and perfect cheekbones."
Kori nodded proudly. "It is true. You have excellent taste in women. And excellent thighs."
"Thank you. I moisturize and squat religiously."
"You are absurd," Raven whispered. "And I might be falling in love with you. Which is so annoying."
I kissed her knuckles. "You're allowed to be scared. But you're not alone. Ever again."
Kori curled into my side, wrapping us both in warmth. "We should make pancakes. With the strawberries. And the sprinkles."
"You mean space sprinkles?" I asked.
"Yes! The ones that make your tongue tingle and possibly reverse time."
"I'll cook," I offered. "But only if Raven doesn't hex me for snoring."
"You do snore," she said.
"Not my fault. Amazonian nasal passages. Diana says it's genetic."
"I'm hexing her too."
"Rude."
"Deserved."
We lay there a while longer. No awkwardness. No regret. Just the hum of connection. Of tangled limbs and tangled feelings and something that might just be…
Love.
Messy. Cosmic. Possibly radioactive love.
And honestly? I wouldn't trade it for all the glitter-proof armor in the multiverse.
Because this? This chaos, this softness, this improbable thing?
It's mine.
And I'm not letting go.
—
There are exactly three certainties in life:
Death.
Taxes.
And if you're dating me, you're never showering alone again.
Trust me, I didn't plan this. I didn't set out to be the Human Loofah of Love. But at some point—somewhere between Kara's "I'm Kryptonian, not modest" bathroom blitz and Megan's impromptu bubble bath séance—it became law. Cosmic law. Like gravity, or Loki being extra.
So when Raven, looking like she'd just walked out of a Tim Burton romance and into a fever dream, curled up next to me under the covers, breathing slower, pulse steady, and cheeks finally returning to something resembling "not flushed like a lava lamp"—that's when Kori pounced.
And I do mean pounced.
"There is one final tradition," Kori announced, her voice a cosmic blend of honey, starlight, and impending chaos. She sat up like a sunrise, sheet sliding just enough to make me forget what dimension I was in. Hair a glorious, tangled flame, golden skin glowing like she was powered by joy and whatever gods invented curves.
Raven, to her credit, didn't flinch. Much.
"Please don't say blood sacrifice," she muttered, eyes narrowed like a suspicious cat.
Kori blinked, confused. "Oh no, that was for DeeDee's lunar ascension! This one is much more fun."
Raven turned slowly toward me like I had personally betrayed her. "Why do I feel like I'm being inducted into a very niche cult?"
"You are," I said cheerfully. "The Cult of Hot Water and Heavenly Abs."
"I knew there was chanting," Raven mumbled.
Kori smiled sweetly. "There is also the singing."
Raven froze. "…what kind of singing?"
"Mostly Earth pop music! Megan adores the ballads of Adele, but sometimes we do the yelling songs of angry women. It is… cathartic."
"She means Alanis Morissette," I added helpfully. "And Kara once broke the showerhead during Rolling in the Deep."
"She hit the high note," Kori whispered, awe-struck.
Raven buried her face in a pillow. "This is worse than the time Constantine tried to flirt with me using Tarot cards."
"No offense," I said, "but if you're comparing me to Constantine, I'm taking that personally. I don't smell like cigarette butts and existential regret."
Kori giggled. "Harry smells of sandalwood and danger!"
"Accurate," I said, wagging my brows. "Also, conditioner. The kind that costs more than a new wand."
Raven turned her face, peeking from the pillow. Her expression hovered somewhere between exasperation and the universal girl reaction to a boy being way too smug. "You all shower together?"
Kori looked shocked. "Of course! It is sacred bonding. The sharing of space. The washing of backs. The occasional slipping and falling into each other's arms! So romantic."
"It's also how I learned Zatanna is ticklish behind her knees," I added. "And where Kara admitted she has a crush on Gal Gadot."
"She's only half joking," Kori said brightly.
Raven stared at us, as if she was watching a musical where everyone had clearly forgotten to tell her it was a musical. "Let me get this straight. You—Harry Potter, actual war hero, Chosen One, world's most wanted cuddle magnet—have a shower… harem?"
"Technically," I said, "it's more of a sexy splash zone."
Kori nodded enthusiastically. "It is like the Lazy River of affection!"
Raven blinked twice. "This is a lot to process."
"I get it," I said, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "First time's overwhelming. So here's the deal. You don't have to join. But if you do… left side's yours. Massage jet's already warmed up. I even bought that goth-scented shampoo you like. Smells like moonlight and unresolved trauma."
Her mouth twitched. "It's lavender and bergamot, you heathen."
"Same difference," I whispered. "Smells like you."
Raven looked away too fast, like she was short-circuiting. Which I counted as a win.
Kori, meanwhile, was absolutely beaming. "Come! We shall enter the cleansing chamber of love and suds!"
"Okay, Kori," Raven said, slowly. "Let's… not call it that."
I stood, letting the sheet fall away (yes, dramatically), and offered both girls my hands like some soap opera prince. "The water's hot. The loofahs are prepped. The shower playlist is not set to ABBA, I promise."
"Good," Raven said. "Because if I hear Mamma Mia, I'm astral-projecting out of this dimension."
"But Dancing Queen is—"
"Nope."
"—so joyfully—"
"Nope."
"—full of energy and—"
"NOPE."
I turned to Kori. "Maybe just 'Take On Me' instead?"
She gasped. "With the falsetto?"
"I live for the falsetto."
Raven groaned. "Oh god, I'm dating idiots."
"Hot idiots," I corrected. "With amazing water pressure."
She didn't argue.
And that's when I knew I'd won.
As we strolled to the bathroom—me shirtless and smug, Kori radiant as always, Raven grumbling and blushing but still holding my hand—I realized something kind of profound:
Some people find heaven in temples. Others in libraries.
Me?
I find it in a steamy bathroom with a sarcastic goth on my left, a sun goddess on my right, and a bottle of bergamot shampoo with our names on it.
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