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moonchildstyles · 2 years

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vamp h taking care of (y/n) when shes sick?:(

Hello! Love your writing and I can honestly say I've read it multiple times. What would Vampire!H do if Y/N gets ill, nothing serious but I'm curious how would he react and how would he take care of her .

can you do a chiaroscuro! harry where y/n is sick with stomach flu and he takes care of her? lots of fluff please 🥺

wordcount: 12.5k+

—————

"You are sure you don't want to come with me, m'love?"

The fresh, bright green of Harry's eyes were clear as they focused on her. A tight furrow pinched his brows in the middle, adding to the concern swimming in his gaze. Despite sitting on the edge of their shared bed, fully dressed for the day with his packed bags sitting by the front door downstairs, he was reluctant to set out on the trip (Y/N) had told him days ago she was opting out of.

She understood where he was coming from, why he was so worried about crossing over to Italy without her by his side—she really did. Traveling without each other was something that never happened anymore, not after that first time she had visited her family and came home to a starving vampire. Not only was that outcome something they avoided a replay of at all costs, but spending time without one another, over oceans and miles apart, hurt and tugged at parts of their soul that hadn't existed before finding one another.

But, (Y/N) was sure her legs would give out if she tried to get out of bed right now.

This month had already been travel heavy, Harry whisking her away to Italy from the jump, stashing her away in their villa for a couple of weeks full of sunbathing and eating the strawberries he had been obsessed with since spring had sprung. (He'd been trying his hand at making crepes, his versions always stuffed full of the sweetest fruits, and—if he was feeling particularly giving that day—chocolate). While it was a relaxing time—(Y/N) spending her time in the sun during the morning hours while Harry worked before retreating back to the villa to spend the rest of the afternoon with her love, exquisite dinners and sweet wines always on the agenda—traveling was still traveling and it exhausted her to a degree. On the flight home even, as she was pressed into Harry's cool side, his fingers dipping through her hair and arranging the strands soothingly, he had shared with her that a trip to France was slated at the end of the month—only a little less than two weeks away—to take a look at a chateau he'd had his eye on. Another home he wanted to make for her, he had said.

Then, in the middle of it all, he told her, only days after returning home, that he needed to head back to Italy for the weekend for a consultation with a client who was interested in procuring a specific collection of Titian paintings. If not for the high price point and the unwillingness from the collector to speak to anyone that wasn't the reclusive Mr. Styles himself, in person, Harry wouldn't have even agreed to the meeting. But, he was insistent on this meeting being a one time thing with a single offer before he was out the door and resuming his time with (Y/N).

Normally, she would have been more than happy to accompany him on this trip. Harry always told her he made better deals with his brokering business when she was close by, not to mention the fact she was his muse for his own art that only increased in value with every exhibition he relented in joining. But, hearing his proposal when she still hadn't even properly washed her hair yet in her own bathroom, made her exhausted just thinking about getting on another plane. Even if it was a private jet.

That's how she found herself bundled in their shared bed, Harry hovering over her with a hint of pleading in his gaze as he stroked her hair out of her face. He was set to be on the tarmac, boarding the jet, in a little more than an hour, but he hadn't made any move to leave despite the ticking clock the second he noticed (Y/N) was awake.

"I'm sure, H, really," she murmured, voice soft from sleep. While she was happy to be able to see him off, being awoken before her body's natural alarm had sparked the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes, urging (Y/N) to get back to bed the second she could.

A heavy sigh was exhaled through Harry's nose as his lips fell into a hard line. His gaze flitted over her face and down her neck as if he were taking stock of each of her features, an inventory sheet budding in his head that he was going to match to what he found when he came home in a few days. "I hate leaving you. I spent centuries without you already, how am I supposed to go without y'once more?"

(Y/N)'s mouth ticked at the corners at the melodrama in his voice. He was like this even if she decided to spend her afternoon in the library instead of keeping him company as he baked in the kitchen. "You're going to be fine, H. You can call me whenever, and I'll be waiting right here for you when you get home," she told him, words a soft whisper shared in the dark of their bedroom, "Try to sleep some if it gets too hard—it'll make the time go by faster. I know that's what I'll be doing."

Though the furrow of his brow never lessened, his lips tugged into a pout as his gaze dropped to the steady pulse in her neck. "Are you going to dream of me?"

Taking her arm out from under the warm confines of the blankets surrounding her form, (Y/N) grabbed at the cool hand now cradling the side of her neck. In lazy motions, she brought the inside of his wrist to her lips where she pressed a warm kiss to where she should have felt a gentle pulse. "I always do, you know that."

The corners of his mouth quirked despite his best efforts at keeping his contentment at bay, the pinch in his brow loosening with the beginnings of his dimples denting into his cheeks. "Pleasant dreams, right? Never a nightmare?" he prompted as if he wasn't there every night, well aware of whether or not she was sleeping soundly.

"Never," she agreed, a slight shake of her head ruffling her hair against her pillow as she slipped her fingers between his in a gentle hold, "You'll text me when you land?"

He sighed in defeat at the confirmation that she really wasn't going to be accompanying him. "I will call you."

The idea of falling asleep again only to be woken up with the sound of Harry's voice being the first thing to greet her pulled a happy smile onto her features.

"I love you, petal," Harry murmured, curling his body forward and dipping his head to press a kiss to her forehead, "Please, please stay safe and call me if y'need anything. If y'cannot reach me, please call Niall."

"I love you, too, H," she smiled, tipping her head just enough to press her lips against the underside of his chin, "Everything's going to be okay, don't worry so much."

If not for the feel of her lips against his skin, (Y/N) knew Harry would be frowning. Instead he exhaled an unnecessary sigh out of his nose, a slight shake of his head following. (Y/N) let out her own breathy laugh at him, knowing how he practically existed to worry and fuss over her.

A buzz from Harry's phone pulled him to check the alarm notification, a memo urging him to leave now as to keep to the strict timetable he was working on for this excursion. This time he really did frown when he peeked back at (Y/N) through his lashes, a fallen swoop of a curl landing on his forehead before he ran a cool hand through his hair. "I've got to go, but I will be home before the weekend is over, petal. I know I fuss too much over you, but please humor me."

As much as (Y/N) wanted to tease him, poke fun at the worry wart tendencies that took over when it came to her, she knew this trip was hard on him already and he hadn't even left yet. Biting back her smile, she cradled his cheeks in her palms, warming his cool skin, and tugging his head down. Sealing their lips together in a short kiss, she allowed herself to indulge in the clean taste of Harry's mouth before he'd be off for the next four days.

"I promise, okay, H?" she murmured, her lips brushing over his as she spoke.

He didn't bother to answer before he kissed her again, more ardently than her own innocent peck. He leaned into her with his lips slotting between hers, carefully cradling her bottom lip between his two. The tip of his nose skimmed the side of her own as he tilted his head, burrowing closer and closer to her. It was when (Y/N) breathed into his mouth, the budding ache in her head forgotten, that Harry pulled away, his eyes closed and brows scrunched as he rested his forehead on hers.

"'M going to cancel, I don't need to leave you," he mumbled, voice rocky and deep, "Everything I need is right here."

A quiet smile made its way onto her mouth, her fingertips inching into the baby curls bordering his hairline. "No, you need to go. The faster you take care of this, the faster you can come home to me, right?"

Harry seemed defeated by her logic as he sighed, the exhale fanning over (Y/N)'s skin. "You're right, petal," he relented.

After offering one last kiss to the soft of her mouth, Harry pulled away, taking care to put space between them as he stood from the seat he took on the mattress, so as to not get sucked back in and cancel his flight.

With a stiff back and reluctance, Harry trailed to the bedroom door, leaving (Y/N) to follow him with her eyes. As much as she was displaying a calm demeanor with the urge to poke at him over his melodrama, her heart ached watching him move farther and farther away from her. She would miss him with everything in her soul, and she wouldn't be surprised if she found that the headache slowly sharpening behind her eyes was a result of dreading his departure. But, as much as Harry was the protector between the two of them, in this moment, she knew she needed to be the stronger one.

"I love you, Harry," she called after him, pushing down the tufts of the bedding around her so he could get a clear glimpse at the tender smile on her lips.

He paused in the doorway, a pinch in his brow through his eyes were soft and hesitant. "I love you, too, petal. I will be home soon."

For the first time she'd ever seen, his steps faltered as he fought to tear his gaze from her, before he blurred out of the hallway too fast for her to catch. She listened for the next few moments as the heavy door to the manor was slammed closed and the crunching of gravel under the tires of whatever car he chose to take for the day echoed from outside. He'd left.

Sinking into the mattress, (Y/N) stared at the canopy draped over their bed, the netting giving her an obstructed view of the painted ceiling above her. It'd been a long, long while since she'd been inside the manor by herself—not since before their first excursion to Italy had she been the only one wrapped up in her bedsheets, listening to the creaks and aches of the old house and the tinkling of the growing garden outside.

She missed him already.

The hollowness growing under her breastbone did little to curb the ache in her head, if only intensifying it. She knew there would be repercussions to go along with the distance they were putting between each other, but she'd never experienced the onset of those consequences so quickly—usually taking at least a day or two to really rear its head before she ached to sleep if only to dream of him. Nonetheless, (Y/N) padded through their wing, finding her way to the primary kitchen Harry used to make her breakfast and midnight snacks as to not stray too far from her.

It was funny, she thought as she got herself a glass of water, how this place could feel so cold without him, even though he didn't even emit any kind of natural heat. Taking her water with her back to her room, (Y/N) tried to remind herself that it would only be a few more hours—long enough for her to nap away her headache—before Harry would be calling her, telling her he landed and was at their Italian villa, inevitably missing her. Hearing his voice again would make her feel worlds better, guaranteed.

That was the thought she held onto as she settled into their shared sheets once again, scooting closer to Harry's side and tucking his barely used pillow between her arms.

—————

Fighting to keep her eyes open and from sniffling through her congested nose, (Y/N) did her best to listen to Harry's voice on the other line.

As expected, Harry called her as soon as he was settled in the villa, his voice echoing through the emptiness that he proceeded to complain about. But, what she hadn't expected, was oversleeping heavily enough that Harry had to call her three times before she picked up, to which he interrogated her over, wanting to know if she was okay, a panicked edge to his tone she couldn't blame him for having. She never missed his phone calls like that, even if she was sleeping. Harry was a worrier when they were together, but that had nothing on the stress he felt over her safety when he wasn't in her immediate vicinity. But, as soon as she calmed him with promises that she was fine, just sleepy and wrapped up in pleasant dreams starring him (she really had dreamt of him, but maybe not so cloyingly sweet and vividly tender as she described, but its what calmed him and that's all that mattered), he was back to himself, whining over the empty villa and how odd it felt to travel without a heart, as he left his as home with her.

She was grateful for the talkative mood she found him in, as the longer he went on, the more she realized she wasn't in the best condition. The nap she had taken and the ounces of water she drank down beforehand hadn't done much of anything to quell her headache, as the pain had intensified from the moment she woke up, worsening as she tried to focus on Harry's words. Along with her budding migraine, her sinuses had become congested, making it hard for her to breathe and heightening the pressure in her head.

Once, early on in the conversation, Harry had asked if she was feeling alright, if her headache had eased. (Y/N) hesitated in her answer, knowing that if she told Harry the truth of her feelings in that moment, their phone call would be cut short in favor of him racing to the airport and getting back to her as soon as possible—commercial or private flight, whatever would get him home fastest. She could already hear the panic that would enter his voice, the fretting that would ensue even across the ocean that currently separated them. She didn't want that; she didn't want to distract from his work, or make him antsy and upset trying to find a way back to the manor—especially since it wasn't a big deal at all. She had a headache that would surely pass after a proper night's rest and more fluids in her system, no need for Harry to flip out and come home just to miss out on an important client while watching her sleep in bed.

So, she didn't tell him, making up some excuse that she was a little distracted because she put on one of the cooking shows he favored, a honey and almond baklava being show on the television that she wanted him to try making when he had the chance. That was how she found herself trying to breath through her mouth as quietly as possible with her eyes closed in the dark of their bedroom while Harry prattled on about what she's sure was an assessment of the city's current art exhibition that he planned on picking apart the next day when he came for his consultation.

"Are y'still tired, m'love?" Harry murmured through the phone, his tone soft and gentle, the one only reserved for her.

Bouncing back into the conversation, (Y/N) nodded her head before remembering he was a plane ride and a time zone away. "Yeah, yeah I am," she mumbled, rolling in the sheets in an effort to find a position comfortable enough to somehow ease the ton of pressure leaking into her head.

A low hum sounded on the other end. "Have y'eaten yet?"

(Y/N) couldn't stop the smile that stretched over her lips. Of course, that was his first concern. "No, not yet."

"Then I want y'to eat before y'rest again, alright? Have one of the meals I packed away in the refrigerator, there's instructions on how to reheat everything pinned to the top of each. Can you do that for me, petal?"

He was the cutest, she decided. The determination in his voice over the plans he'd just picked out for her was exactly what she expected from him. Though the thought of getting up and putting any effort into making food—even just reheating in the microwave sounded like the most monumental of tasks—made her headache tap against her skull, (Y/N) still hummed her agreement. "Okay, H. Anything else before we get off the phone, dad? Should I send you a picture of my empty plate, so you know I finished?"

Despite the clear tear in her voice, (Y/N) knew what the quiet pause he was taking meant.

"That wouldn't be such a bad idea," Harry mused, "If 's not too much trouble, I would actually greatly appreciate that update."

The earnestness of his words was enough to draw a croaky laugh from her throat. "Harry, I'm not doing that, but I'll text you before I fall asleep," she settled on, amusement tinting her words.

"I suppose that's not a bad compromise," Harry sighed, (Y/N) imagining him sinking into the burnt orange sofa that adorned their loft area, a resigned expression pinching his features.

(Y/N) only shook her head, her eyes falling closed once more. If she tried hard enough, with her eyes shuddered like this and Harry's unnecessary breathing sounding from the other end, she could pretend he was here. "I love you, Harry."

A honey sweetened sigh was exhaled through Harry's smiling lips, the curve audible in the sigh. "I love you, too, m'petal. I'll talk to you in the morning, yes?"

"Yes," she agreed, the idea of eating any kind of dinner slipping further and further away the longer she laid in bed.

"Goodnight, my (Y/N). Sweet dreams."

(Y/N) was only half-aware as her own goodnight left her lips, Harry having had to have hung up as she couldn't remember making the motions to end the phone call before she was tossing her phone to the side in favor of wrenching up the fluffy, green duvet to her chin. She was freezing now, Harry's lack of presence taking its toll harder than she expected. Feeling all the warmth around her, his familiar scent being picked up in notes and bits as she struggled to breathe through her nose, (Y/N) decided to lay down for a few more minutes before venturing to the kitchen—five minutes tops. Then, she'd follow through on her promise and eat whatever it was that Harry packed away for her.

Just another five minutes and her head would quit aching.

—————

(Y/N) tried her best to use her shaking hands to text Harry back, having missed his morning phone call after telling him she was busy visiting Charlotte. It'd been hours since then, (Y/N) not leaving her bed even once while fielding the checkin texts he sent along with a photo of every small thing he spotted around the villa and surrounding town that reminded him of her. She loved knowing that he was thinking of her so consistently, but she couldn't handle another glance at the too-bright screen despite the brightness being on the lowest setting. The sight only made her head pound even more.

No matter how many times she tired to convince herself that all her symptoms were something that would go away with enough sleep and water, every time she took stock of what she was experiencing, she only felt worse and worse. Her headache had been the start before her sinuses became stuffed up, but before long her joints and muscles were heavy and aching and her throat was too sore to get many words out without swearing her insides were raw. Her entire body felt like a big lump of pressure and aches, giving her the kind of exhaustion that allowed her to sleep despite how much her nose and throat hurt every time she breathed.

With the fog covering her brain and the shivers that worked down her spine despite the comforter tugged up to her chin, all (Y/N) wanted was Harry. The idea of his cool body wrapped around her form sounded like heaven. His voice coaxing her through the worst of her ragged coughs when her throat got the best of her could cure each of her ailments at this point. Even just knowing he was in the same place, close enough to catch him in glimpses between naps, or have him wake her when it was time to eat made her poor heart beat faster. What she wouldn't give to have him here.

But, that was exactly why she hadn't told him yet.

(Y/N) knew that the second she even uttered that she was slightly unwell, he'd blow off this consultation, lose a client, and (Y/N) wouldn't find it easy to forgive herself for doing that to him, no matter how many times he would insist that he didn't need that patron's business. Harry would be itching out of his skin to get to her, frantic from the moment he walked through the door, especially with the fact she hadn't told him from the jump how she was feeling. She knew that if he made his way here he would be scolding her in-between spoonfuls of homemade soup, and threats of taking her over his knee for not taking care of herself while he was gone after he finished pouting at her state.

Besides, he had less than seventy-two hours away from her before he'd be home again. Less than seventy-two hours before she could wrap herself around the solid chill of his body and sink into his hold. Before she'd hear his voice in person and have the rumble lull her to sleep with her head on his chest.

Those reminders were enough to soothe (Y/N), if only until the next coughing attack she suffered. But, she knew she could make it just fine. This wasn't the first time she'd fell ill without Harry, she could take care of herself.

—————

"(Y/N), are you okay? I can barely understand you."

Sucking in a breath as deep as she could manage, (Y/N) rolled onto her back with the sticky bedsheets following after her. Her fever had broken for the moment—sure to return in less than an hour if today's pattern prevailed—, and she needed to take this opportunity to get some kind of medicine in her system if she wanted to get out of bed and actually eat something today. After breaking her own heart by checking both the kitchen and bathroom cabinets for any stray medicine bottle she hoped had been stashed away, her only option was to call someone for help.

"Niall," she heaved, throat burning, "I'm sick."

A snort sounded on the other end, "Yeah, I can tell. You sound like you swallowed a lawnmower."

"Hey, be nice," she whined, though the words came out more like a series of dehydrated cracks, "I'm calling for help, and you're only being mean to me."

"What do you need?" Niall questioned, all traces of amusement draining from his tone, "Is Harry with you? What's wrong?"

Listening to him prattle off his list of questions, (Y/N) had half the mind to wonder if being a worry wart was a vampiric trait gained after turning.

"Harry's in Italy right now with a client, and I'm too sick to get out of bed. I need something to help with my fever and whatever will make my head stop pounding." (Y/N)'s stomach growled just as she finished speaking. "And maybe something warm to eat. My throat hurts, so soup might be nice."

"H left you like this to go to Italy?" A tint of disgust filtered into Niall's tone.

"No, no—he doesn't know," she croaked, cutting herself off as a string of coughs crept through her throat, "It started after he left."

A beat passed before Niall's voice sounded through the speaker again, "He doesn't know?"

(Y/N) internally cringed at the slip she hadn't meant to make. Despite the fact Niall was one of her closest friends at this point, she knew better than to think he wouldn't go out of his way to give Harry an update like this.

"No, but you can't tell him, Niall. Please," she pleaded, voice breaking and nose stinging as she tried to suck in a breath, "He's meeting with an important client this weekend, and you know that he'd call it off to come home if he knew. He'll be home on Monday, so I just need to get through the weekend then I'll tell him."

"(Y/N)," he said her name like a warning, like she knew better. And, she did, if she was being honest, but she never claimed to be the smartest and she was going to lean into that and the brain fog that came with her headache until she couldn't anymore.

"Niall, he'll panic, you know that. He'll freak and probably break half of the villa trying to pack, and possibly the gallery just trying to get out of there. It's not worth it—I have a cold that will clear up before he's even back on Monday. We don't need to tell him until he's already home." Her logic sounded flawed in her croaky voice, but she knew she got through to him when Niall hesitated on the other end.

(Y/N) had already sunk into her mattress with a satisfied smile by the time Niall heaved a sigh, an instinct that hadn't gone away despite the fact he didn't even need to breathe anymore.

"What did you need from the shops again?"

—————

Harry's brows furrowed when he read the disjointed pair of texts from (Y/N) for the third time since leaving the villa.

Petal 🌹

sory forgot to tell you i'm haning out with char today

i'l call when im home ok?

She'd texted him a bit since then, responding to the photographs of the thriving strawberry bushel in the garden of the villa and the outside of Mr. Sorrentino's shop, sending back only the barest of emoticons, but those two messages still concerned him. It was as if she typed it out with her eyes closed, and without a second thought before pressing the blue arrow to send it off.

Maybe it was the haze that had been lingering in his head for the past two days, but these messages pitched him off balance. It wasn't unfounded for him to feel discombobulated when he was without her, but the pit pooling in his abdomen was taking things a step further as he began to feel physically ill—something he hadn't experienced since his human days. The odd feeling in his stomach went further than just the harbored urge to zip home and disregard the consultation that he'd carried since walking out of their shared bedroom, breaching into territory he didn't recognize.

While he had suspicions about what the new development could mean, he tried to rationalize with himself first, knowing just how impulsive and wired he became when it came to (Y/N).

He'd been spending a lot of time out in the sun this trip, more than he ever did, trying to tie up loose ends as fast as possible in hopes of getting home even a few hours early. The realtor he'd been in contact with about the Parisian chateau he had his eyes on—a friend of a friend who didn't look too closely at the paperwork—had been pestering him incessantly about what accommodations he required and when he would be by to tour the property. Then, in the middle of it all, he leaves (Y/N) and separates them by an ocean. Of course, he was going to be off kilter when it all came together like that.

It was nothing that a call from (Y/N) once she had the time wouldn't fix.

That was the explanation Harry took with him as he left for the consultation, steeling himself in preparation for the difficulty he'd been warned of through some of the associates at his brokerage firm. He wasn't afraid of this man by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew he would need to keep his temper in check if he wanted this meeting to go as quickly as possible—arguing got him no where, as (Y/N) had so thoughtfully pointed out on several occasions.

It wasn't at all a long journey to the gallery that was serving as the venue for the consolation, a private viewing room having been set up to accommodate them, but the faux illness he'd only felt the beginning tendrils of had just enough time to wrap around his throat in an uncomfortable grip. He was more scatterbrained than he could ever remember being in his eternal life, a pain singeing the cords of his throat, and his joints hesitating to curl.

Taking a deep breath as he entered the gallery, Harry didn't even bother to acknowledge the receptionist that stood to greet him, his eyes trained on the shining leather of his boots with his brows fixed into a glare. He wracked his brain in hopes of finding another explanation for the symptoms that he was experiencing as opposed to the reasoning he speculated over this morning. But all he could come up with was more evidence pointing him in the direction of what he prayed wasn't happening.

It wasn't uncommon for mated pairs to begin taking on the distress of their counterparts, typically coming into play when one half of the whole was in danger, severely hurt, or otherwise unwell enough that their lover would be alerted to help fend off the unsavory feeling. It'd been months since the bonding, and Harry hadn't been given a single insight into any of (Y/N)'s less than sunny moments, not even when she slipped on a patch of ice just outside the back door of the garden, landing her with a mottling of purple and blue bruising along the backs of her thighs. He figured if he didn't receive that shock of awareness then, that they wouldn't be the kind of pair that was granted that ability. But, today was making him reconsider that stance.

Replaying the night before he left for Italy, he recalled the way (Y/N) seems more inclined to shy away from the light, acting as if she were like him and sticking to the shadows and the low lights that darkened their bedroom. He recalled the way she moved with hesitance, as if the stretching of her muscles and bending of her joints took more effort than she bargained for. Even waking her up before he headed off was a challenge, (Y/N) needing more coaxing that normal to even consider blinking her eyes open for him.

But, she would tell him if she was feeling ill, right? She'd know that he wouldn't be able to live with himself if she fell sick while he was in a whole other country. Right?

Harry disregarded the set up of the viewing room around him as he slammed the door shut after him, focused on the phone he pulled from his pocket. He had only minutes to spare before his appointment would arrive, and he would have to feign professional pleasantries in the face of someone he couldn't care any less about.

I am going to call you once I am done with my meeting. I need to hear your voice. Please answer.

Pressing send, Harry's forehead creased when he caught sight of the two seemingly disoriented messages at the top of the thread. If he was proved right, and she was sick, he didn't know what he was going to do with himself, knowing that he was feeling only the faint tremors of the real pain she was going through, all the while he was in a different country listening to the prattling of an uneducated patron that thought he knew more about the art periods Harry lived through.

When he didn't immediately earn a response or even the timestamp proving she had read the message, Harry relented to tucking the device away just in time for the receptionist from downstairs to return with a guest in tow.

"Mr. Styles," she greeted with a practiced smile, something wary in her eyes as she took in the tight line of Harry's jaw, "Mr. Cyrus is here for your consultation. Would you like me to bring any refreshments for the two of you?"

Harry didn't even bother awaiting the new guest's input on the offer before he waved the woman away, a tight line formed by his lips. A reserved smile was painted on her lips as she stepped out of the way, allowing Mr. Cyrus to step into the room, the door closing behind him, though Harry could still hear the click of her heels over the hardwood floor. Each clack tightened his muscles another minuscule amount as if the sound was pinging around in his skull, leaving him stiff as his new guest reached out a hand in greeting.

"Mr. Styles, thank you for coming out here to meet with me," Mr. Cyrus started, a slight accent filtering through his words, "I hope you're making the most out of your time here, despite this."

Only a hum made it's way out of his throat as he shook the man's hand, nothing more than a quick nod of their hands before he was slipping out of his grip. "Please," he murmured, gesturing to the pair of seats arranged around the table in hopes of feigning some level of politeness.

Lucky enough, this client seemed to be the talkative kind, spewing off research he made in preparation for the consultation. (For the bits and pieces Harry bothered to tune into, he found 98% of the information to be wrong, especially the so-called facts he seemed so smug about). Harry only sunk into his seat, elbow propped on the table with his chin cradled in his palm, uncaring of whether or not he was playing the convincing role of paying attention.

Tempering his breathing, Harry did his best to take stock of the unpleasant symptoms rifling through his body. Though the pains were still dull, as if he was experiencing the secondhand sensations originating a wall away, acute shocks made their way through the fog, making his head throb for a moment before his throat felt like it could crack in half from dehydration. His jaw clenched as he swore his joints began to ache as if taking on an invisible weight, the fuse on his worry now lit at the idea that this was only a taste of what (Y/N) could be going through.

The vision of (Y/N) wrapped up in their bedsheets, pale and sweating with a frown on her lips and those grooves between her brows Harry always smoothed out with a kiss, all alone while he was tucked away in their cozy villa an ocean away all because of the pretentious asshole sitting across from him, made Harry go still.

What was he doing here?

What was he doing here in the sunny Italian countryside, in a gallery that didn't hold anything nearly as enthralling as what he had at home, with some human who's heartbeat sounded more like an incessant knocking than the baseline melody he was so used to at the manor? How could he do this to his bonded? Whether or not she was sick, Harry should be with her.

"If you would excuse me for jus' one second," Harry murmured, effectively cutting off Mr. Cyrus' ramblings on Titian.

Harry didn't wait for any kind of response before he was sweeping out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He didn't wait until he hid away in a different viewing room before he pulled his phone out, restless hands tapping at the screen.

Looking at the screen, he found it void of any notifications, leaving a clear view of his lockscreen—a photo of (Y/N) stretched out in his rose garden, bathing under the sun as she peeked at him over her sunglasses from where he stood in the shade. The picture only made his frozen heart crack even deeper. The reason for his existence could be suffering and he wasn't doing anything to help her.

Swiping through his phone with determination, Harry pulled up (Y/N)'s contact with full intention to call her again before his phone began buzzing in his hand. The screen transitioned to display an incoming call from... Niall?

Harry almost wanted to ignore the call, eager to get (Y/N) on the line instead. But, Niall only ever called him when something important had happened, usually an emergency. (He tried not to think about it, but he remembered the last time Niall called him like this, when (Y/N) was being terrorized by the blood children).

"Niall?" Harry greeted once he pressed the phone to his ear, doing his best to unclench his jaw.

"Hey, H," Niall reciprocated on the other line, his disposition much sunnier, "How are you? How's Italy?"

"Fine. Is everything okay?" Harry's patience had died in that room with Mr. Cyrus.

"Well," Niall started, feigned pleasantry leaving his tone, "I'm not supposed to be telling you, but something's wrong with (Y/N)."

If his heart hadn't stopped beating centuries ago, Harry was fairly certain this would have been the day that killed him, these would have been the words that ended him.

Making a point to temper himself, Harry forced himself to lighten his grip on his phone. "What do you mean." Though he was posing a question, his inflection stayed firm, the words barely being gritted out between his teeth.

"(Y/N), she's..." Niall trailed off, seemingly at war with the rest of his explanation. Harry didn't care.

"I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now, Niall, I wi—"

"She's sick, okay? That's all," he relented with a sigh, "I just left the manor, I dropped off some medicine and things, but she's not looking too good. I'm sure she has a fever and she could barely talk to me and make sense at the same time. She didn't want me to tell you, because she knew you'd freak out—which I know you're doing right now—, but she didn't look too good when I saw her. I just thought you should know."

Though breathing was nothing more than apart of the human facade he'd donned in the past centuries, Harry knew that in this moment he was going to need the deep breaths he sucked in like his lungs were burning.

She didn't want him to know? How long had she been ill that she had to reach out to Niall to get supplies for her? She was so far gone that she wasn't making sense?

Why was Harry still here?

Unwiring his jaw, Harry mumbled a quiet, "Okay. Thank you for letting me know," before the call was ended and his phone was back in his pocket if only to spare it from being crushed in his fist.

Harry felt as if he was on autopilot as he stalked through the halls, bypassing the viewing room that held his now most hated client. Firing off emails as he did so, arranging for his private plane to be ready for him within the next hour, Harry muttered something to the receptionist on his way out about an emergency and to inform Mr. Cyrus he'd be in touch. (The second part was a lie, but Harry didn't care at this point).

—————

If not for the fact his phone charger and gifts he'd bought for (Y/N) were at the villa, Harry wouldn't have wasted time with backtracking to the house before heading to the airport. He tore through the place, packing and grabbing anything he thought he may need, all the while his ear was trained to listen for his ringing phone.

From the second he hung up the phone, his mind had been full of nothing but a reel of his worst nightmares when it came to (Y/N)'s health. The delicate balance that went into a human's life was something he hadn't given much thought to until he fell for his bonded. Though, now, especially in this moment, he couldn't find room to have anything else on his mind. He knew good and well that science and medicine had advanced far past what it had been in his youth, but there was always a chance.

Always a chance that she wouldn't take her medicine according to the correct timetable. Always a chance that her fever wouldn't break. Always a chance that this wasn't just a harmless, temporary cold. Always a chance he wouldn't make it in time, leaving her to wither away in the silk of their bedsheets.

That was all he could think about as he moved through the motions of driving to the airport, and moving through the masses until he was safely boarded. It was only then that he had enough space in between his bubbling worries (he was currently fixating on whether or not she could somehow wander outside in her delirium and call more blood children to her location) to pull his phone out and try calling (Y/N) again.

As expected, it went to voicemail.

"(Y/N), petal," he murmured, tone gentle despite the tense in his muscles, "I'm coming home. Niall told me." Harry paused for a moment, feeling his throat clog at the memory of Niall telling him that (Y/N) explicitly told him not to share the knowledge of her state. "I'm sorry I wasn't there—that I left you. But, I'll be home soon, and I'm going to take care of you, okay? Hang in there for me, petal. I love you."

Hanging up the phone, Harry knew that despite the fact he was tucking the device away in his pocket, he was going to be calling her again soon enough.

As the plane took off, Harry sunk into the beige leather of the seat. With his eyes closed, he tipped his head back against the headrest. Despite his want to do nothing more than to force himself into a sleep, knowing the hours would pass by much quicker, he reasoned with himself to stay awake and alert—if for no other reason than to keep track of his own symptoms and ensure that as long as he didn't feel worse, that meant (Y/N) was okay.

—————

"... I will be home soon. I love you, petal."

Harry hung up the phone as he climbed into his car, grateful to be in control again and closing the distance between himself and his bonded on his own terms. He kept his phone in the cupholder as he started on the familiar drive home in hopes of hearing the buzzing loud and clear incase she called back, finally answering the dozen of calls and corresponding voicemails he left since their last contact.

Though he knew this trek back to the manor like the back of his hand, it didn't feel the same without (Y/N) in the passenger seat. That was always one of his favorite parts of going out of town with her: the drive back, with his love exhausted in the passenger seat, using the last of her strength to stay awake with him during the drive and hold his hand as he navigated them home. Now, he was left to be a nervous wreck as he rushed to get home as fast as possible, disregarding all traffic laws in the hour it took to find himself approaching the long drive to the manor.

If not for muscle memory, Harry's halfway sure he wouldn't have even put the car in park or took the keys from the ignition once he was safely in the garage. (Y/N)'s heartbeat rung in his ears, the sound flooding him with relief so tangible Harry swore the only way he'd be able to let it out would be through tears. But he couldn't worry about that at the moment, not when he heard the wheeze of her lungs, her breathing paced. She was still asleep. Alone.

Utilizing his supernatural speed, he blurred through the manor in a matter of seconds, finding more relief the second he stepped over the threshold of their bedroom. (Y/N) was barely anything more than a lump under the layers of duvets and blankets she must have collected from around the manor, but he knew she was there. Her small nest was complimented with two half-full bottles of water and a pill container sitting on his nightstand, as she had taken up residence on his side of the bed. Her heartbeat was strong and steady, his lifeline in this moment of panic, and her scent was everything he needed to douse some of the worry that blazed in his stomach.

She was okay, and he was here now.

Approaching the bed at a pace a bit too fast to be human, Harry didn't hesitate before he took a seat on the edge of the mattress, emulating the same scene he had left with days earlier. This time, though, (Y/N) didn't look up at him with tired eyes and a soft smile—no, she was too busy sleeping with a cinch in her brows and the color drained from her face. To keep from burbling off worried sentiments that would wake his petal, Harry kneaded his bottom lip between his teeth and laid his hand on her forehead.

While it wasn't out of the ordinary for (Y/N) to feel pleasantly warm against his chilled skin, this was different. Her skin felt as if she had bathed in fire, the flames having melded with her skin. (Though a pit of guilt began to open up next to his worry, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit of contentment knowing that with her fever, he could wrap himself around her, chilly skin and all, without having to worry about making her freeze). A sheen covered her features, a light sweat that only highlighted the lack of life in her face. His heart broke as he took her in.

Brushing his fingertips down the planes of her cheek, the line of her jaw, and the curve of her neck, Harry comforted himself in her form. This moment was the first time in days he wasn't agonizing over the pain in his throat and ache in his head. Now that he was here, he could take care of her, fix the mistake of leaving her behind and care for her the way she deserved.

Harry didn't even think before he was kicking off his shoes ((Y/N) hated having shoes anywhere near her bedding, a particular habit Harry hadn't even thought about until she came into his life), and climbing into bed beside her. The task of unrolling the sheets from around her body and dismantling the fortress of blankets layered over her barely made any kind of disturbance to (Y/N)'s sleeping form, the most acknowledgment was earned when Harry wrapped himself around her—arms threaded around her waist, face in her neck, and legs twined between hers—, a sigh falling from her lips.

This moment was more self-indulgent than anything, Harry knew as he inhaled a lungful of her scent, but he liked to think that with the way (Y/N) sunk into his hold, she was happy he was home now, even in her sleep. He felt desperate as he dotted his lips over her skin, taking in heady inhales of her scent and dragging his nose over the curve of her neck as his exhales fanned over her skin. She was in his arms, warm as the sun she bathed in during the summer, smelling as sweet as the strawberries she indulged in regularly once learning how much he liked tasting them on her.

He left this behind for some consultation?

That logic was hard to wrap Harry's mind around in that moment. Even as he slipped his hand under the top of his she used as sleepwear, cataloguing the heat of her skin, his eyelashes brushing the delicate skin of her neck, his ankle hooked around her own, he couldn't get close enough to her. Though he had his ears tuned into the sound of her heart and hands documenting every languid move of her muscles as she shifted in his arms, breaking down every single process that made up the love of his existence, it wasn't enough.

He needed her. He needed to see her eyes, hear her voice, see the recognition flood into her gaze when she looked at him.

And, that would start with the dreaded task of waking her from the sleep he was sure she craved.

It was real work to pull himself out of the cocoon he made in her neck, unfurling himself from the home he made around her body as he propped himself up on an elbow to gaze at her from above. The hand he had tucked under her top, slipped out and came to rest on the round of her cheek, pale fingertips running along her cheekbone in gentle sweeps.

"Petal," he crooned to her, voice barely above a whisper, "(Y/N), petal, need y'to wake up for me."

Not a single stir.

Harry tried again with a lump building behind his sternum. She was obviously so sleepy, and here he was disrupting her all because he wanted to see her eyes. But, he reasoned with himself as he pressed his lips to her cheek in another soft attempt of waking her, it wouldn't be just for that—he was going to give her medicine, too, if she needed any, and he'd make sure she drank some more water before falling back into her dream world. He wasn't being completely selfish.

"Darling," he tried again, his words sweeping over her heated skin and melting, "Let me see your pretty eyes. Need y'to wake up, so I know you're okay." Dropping his palm down her neck, Harry began working a circuit with his hand over the shoulder exposed by the drooping of her top, up the curve of her throat, and dipping low enough to feel the echos of her heartbeat against his palm. The motion rocked her body in gentle waves in hopes of coaxing her out of sleep along with his pleaded coos of her name.

A few beats passed, Harry feeling guiltier and guiltier by the second, before (Y/N) finally blinked her eyes open. The cinch that had taken root between her brows as she slumbered only deepened as she took in the bleary sight before her. Though they were only open a smidge, Harry felt his smile grow watery as he took in the color of her irises.

"Harry?" she grumbled, voice broken and hoarse.

Settling his hand on her cheek, Harry nodded his head, "'S me, love."

Canting her head to the side, the pinch in her brows turned hopeful with the rounding of her gaze and softening of her features. "You're really here?"

The watery grin on his cheeks grew as he couldn't help but drop his head to press a kiss to the heated round of her cheek. "'M really here, darling. Couldn't stand to stay away from you any longer."

When he pulled back, Harry got to watch as her bleary, hopeful gaze was replaced with recognition. Her mouth dropped into a small gape, the full of her lips opening as a puff of air was exhaled. It only took another moment before she was urging herself off the bed and wrapping her arms around Harry's neck, this time her face burrowing in the tendons of his neck.

"I missed you so much, H," she murmured into his skin, voice nasally from either the cold wracking through her body or the emotion of seeing him again seeping into her system.

Harry's eyes fell closed as he luxuriated in her hold. He allowed himself to be tugged down, (Y/N)'s form underneath him as he was pulled to lay atop her with her weakened arms. "I missed you, too, petal. Never doing that again, not ever. You're coming with me wherever I go, or I am not going at all, I've decided."

He swore he heard her murmur a thank you against his skin, but the sound was swallowed up by the rumblings that were taking place in his chest, a quiet purr resulting from his contentment in that moment. (He rarely ever purred like this, the one time within memory he could recall being when he was nesting while staving off his heat before bonding with (Y/N), but he couldn't blame his body for the way he reacted at having her in his arms again). Moments passed as Harry allowed her to feel him against her, the solid weight of his form pressing into the soft give of her own, before he had to reason with himself that he would have all night to hold her, but he needed to get some fluids and medication in her while she was awake.

Blocking out the whine he heard from her as he pulled away, Harry reached for the pill bottle on the side table and one of her bottles of water. "Still tired, petal?"

"Yeah," she breathed, sounding exhausted though her eyes were bright and adoring as they took him in, "You're staying, right? You don't have to leave again?"

The shake of his head came before he could even form words around the lump in his throat, "No, no. 'M not leaving, again, especially not while you're so ill. I will be here all night with you, darling."

She seemingly blanched at his words, being launched back into reality. "H-How did you know I'm sick?"

A slight curve of his lips molded Harry's features into something soft, the rumbling in his chest subsiding at the memory of her secret-keeping. "Aside from the obvious, you mean?" he teased, peering at her through his lashes as he made quick work out of the cap to the pill bottle. When she did nothing other than sink further into the fluff of his pillow and sink of the sheets, Harry shook his head. "Niall told me."

An exasperated sigh crackled from her lungs as her eyes shuttered closed. "I made him promise not to tell you."

"I heard about that as well," he answered simply, unable to hide his disappointment with the fact she was unwilling to share this information with him, "But, we will be having a conversation about that later. For now, I want y'to drink some water and take more medicine for me before y'go back to sleep." Harry doled out the correct dosage according to the bottle's label before working on the top of the water as (Y/N) fell silent beside him. Reading over the facts pasted to the white pill bottle, Harry pursed his lips. "Y'haven't taken any in the last four hours, right?"

When what he earned in response was nothing more than a watery no, Harry's concern shot through the roof. If not for the fact he wasn't entirely alive, Harry swore he would have gotten whiplash at the rate he flicked his head up to catch his lover before she fell to tears. The sight that greeted him broke his barely mended heart, her already sullen features now complimented with a pair of teary eyes and a wobbly bottom lip.

"Petal," he crooned, carefully setting his supplies off to the side in favor of gathering her into his arms instead, "I was only teasing, yes? I am not upset, I jus' want for y'to get better. Don't cry, okay?" His final sentiment was spoken around a growing lump in his throat while the very backs of his eyes burned, like a hypocrite.

"I know, I know," she whimpered, clinging to him with her face buried in his shoulder, "I'm s-so happy you're home, that's all. This is all I've been wanting since you left; I didn't want to do this alone, anymore."

Harry took in tempering breaths as she spoke, willing himself to keep a lid on his own emotions until she fell asleep (the two of them crying all over each other wasn't going to make (Y/N) feel any better). "Not alone anymore, (Y/N). 'M right here, and 'm not leaving you again."

Her arms tightening around his neck was what he earned in response.

Once she was calmed and Harry felt secure in being able to see her tear-tracked face without falling into sobs himself, he pulled her from his hold and finally followed through his with plan to get some water and medicine in her. (Y/N) listened like the good girl she was, and Harry told her as much as he bundled her into his arms after she drained both of her half-finished bottles.

With nothing more than the thin layer of their silken sheets draped over their tangled forms, (Y/N) gazed at Harry with hearts in her eyes across to where he lay beside her. "How was your trip?" she questioned, voice sounding slightly better with the help of the water.

A single dimple dented into Harry's cheek as he tried to recall any part of the last almost three days that weren't consumed with thoughts of her. "Fine, boring, uneventful," Harry listed, "I don't like it there much anymore if you are not with me."

Harry could tell she really was tired with the way she didn't even tease him over his devotion or brush off his cloyingly sweet words with a shy smile. All he was granted was a short shake of her head, as she eyes shuttered closed. "And how did the consultation go?"

"Didn't finish it."

Her brows drew together over her closed eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Niall called me in the middle of it, telling me about your little secret, and I didn't bother finishing any negotiations before I left to come home."

That got her eyes fluttering open with wide shock clearing her gaze. "Harry, wh—I can't—You're not supposed to do that! That's why I didn't want to tell you in the first place!"

Sweeping a hand over her heated forehead, Harry shook his head and did his best to soothe her away from the tone that was surely searing her throat. "You are m'priority, not some stuffy rich man who thinks he knows anything about art because he once watched a documentary. I was not going to sit through another second of that meeting knowing that you needed me here instead. Do you understand that, (Y/N)?"

Despite her disappointment raised tone, Harry could see guilt simmering away in her eyes. "But, this is a big client, right? Someone important en—"

"No one is more important than you, that is what I am trying to tell you, darling. No sale, or heavy investor means more to me than you and your health. No exceptions." Though his words were stern, Harry made a point to keep his tone gentle and sticky like honey, sweetening the delivery in a way he needed her to swallow and understand.

"I'm so—"

This time it only took a look from him to cut her off. They'd been over this countless times: (Y/N)'s need to apologize for things that were not her fault or completely out of her control. Like her illness.

Instead of arguing, (Y/N) allowed herself to bask in the feel of his hand sweeping over her heated skin and petting back her rogue hairs. If not for the way she nodded her head and the pacing of her breathing, Harry would have assumed she had fallen asleep with the way her eyes fell shut.

"Even though I feel a little bit guilty, I'm happy you're home, H."

"I am too, petal."

Once he knew she was well and safely asleep, Harry had a few hours to kill before she would either wake up or he would be forced to rouse her for another round of medicine, leaving him to do the one thing he did every time there was a facet of human life he didn't know anything about: he pulled up Google.

Typing in a search for the best home remedies for a cold, Harry grazed over the hundreds of thousands of search results that were yielded. He could spend a few hours like this.

—————

Waking up still felt like a dream as (Y/N) tried to blink her eyes open. The silk sheet pulled up to her chin did nothing to shield her from the pleasant chill that seeped over her skin and cooled the heat that pooled just under the surface. Everything felt a bit surreal as she tried to fight her way to the surface, clinging to the bits of light that haloed around a form she couldn't entirely make out.

"Hi, petal," a deep crooning voice greeted her, a sweep of gentle fingertips brushing her hair from her face following after, "Finally waking up?"

She tried to suck in a deep breath before she remembered her nose was too congested, leaving her to struggle to breath in through gaped lips and crackling lungs. A soft cooing sound floated between them, the voice that had greeted her now pouting over her state. The fresh air in her lungs urged her to wake and see the angel hovering above her.

Blinking away the bleariness that plagued her vision, (Y/N) climbed to the surface of her dreamland, breaking through the veil that separated her from reality. The flecks of light she had perceived as a halo around a hovering angel, was actually nothing more than the midlevel glow from a bedside lamp. The light was emitting from beside Harry, where he sat against the headboard with her head in his lap and his fingers trailing through her hair in soothing motions. He gazed down at her with softened moss-colored irises, adoration swimming through them, his face unsmiling though (Y/N) could see contentment rounding out his features

"Hi," she croaked, wincing at the feel of her raw vocal cords rubbing against one another.

That got Harry's mouth to curve into a smile, his hand sliding through her hair before landing on the slope of her neck. He canted his head to match her eye contact from where she laid in his lap, the pad of his thumb running a circuit along the line of her jaw. "Hi, love. How are y'feeling?"

The fog that billowed in her head didn't clear enough to give a solid answer as she shook her head. All (Y/N) knew was that she didn't feel good.

Harry's mouth set into a thin line as he gazed down at her, eyes sweeping over her form as if cataloguing her state for his own diary of her symptoms he had going on. "Still tired?" he asked.

"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed, fighting the instinct to close her eyes and roll over back into her dream state. At least there she knew that her head wouldn't hurt and she could breathe through her nose without problem.

"Need y'to eat first before y'go back to sleep, though, okay? By the looks of the meals I packed for y'before I left, y'haven't been taking care of yourself like I asked." A somewhat scolding glance ran through Harry's gaze before he softened again.

Really, how could he blame her? Poor petal had been practically bed bound, how could he expect her to wait around for a plate of pasta to reheat in that state?

"Sorry," she murmured despite the fact she knew she was off the hook before she'd even been caught on it.

Harry was quick to shake his head at her response, a loose curl falling over his forehead. "No need to be sorry, petal. I shouldn't even be reprimanding y'when you are like this. Besides, I've already prepared a fresh meal for y'tonight that's supposed to make y'feel better."

Though the idea of eating right now didn't really outweigh how much she wanted to go back to sleep, (Y/N) knew better than to turn down the offer. If she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember the last time she ate something more substantial than a handful of Harry's homemade granola he was testing out for her. There was no chance of her getting better if she didn't put in the effort.

"What is it?" she asked, reluctantly pulling herself from Harry's hold to sit up on the mattress. Stretching out her limbs and spine was a relief she hadn't seen coming. How long had she holed herself up under the covers, barely moving unless to grab a tissue?

"Homemade tortellini and kale soup," Harry answered proudly. (He'd begun to get a bit of an ego when it came to his pasta making skills, ever since (Y/N) raved over his lasagna one too many times). "I tried m'best," he continued, "but I didn't have m'sous chef with me, so 'm not sure if it will be as perfect as I would prefer it to be."

She was hardly anything of a sous chef when she was in the kitchen with him—she was more of a taste tester than anything, and she was only granted bites after begging Harry—,but (Y/N) felt a smile mold over her lips nonetheless. "I'm sure it's just fine, H. Let me try it."

Taking that as his cue to leave his spot against the headboard, Harry planted his feet on the marbled floor before reaching for (Y/N)'s waist. He positioned her in his old station, preparing her for the dinner in bed he'd planned. "So demanding," he had mumbled under his breath, peering at her through his lashes with amusement sparkling in his gaze. He held his chilled hands on her waist a moment longer as he dipped his head down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right back, petal," he murmured against her skin, lingering for a beat before releasing his hold on her.

In the few moments that Harry left her be, having blurred out of the room to assumedly return with her soup, (Y/N) got a glimpse of how she was feeling now that she was more cognizant. All of her limbs felt heavy, bones being weighed down by muscles that felt as if they'd been strung too tight for too long. Some of the pressure in her head had been alleviated given that she could breathe out of one side of her nose for the time being, but her throat was sure to make up for it with an ache in her lungs burning with every breath she took in.

No more than a few beats passed before Harry was back, cutting (Y/N) off before she had time to wallow in the feel of her aching body. In his hands he held a tray adorned with the bowl of steaming soup and her blue bottle she was sure had been refilled to the top with water he was going to expect her to finish before sleeping again for the night. He concentrated on the tray in his hands as he slowed, brows furrowed as he made his way to her (his, technically) side of the bed.

"'S very warm, so be careful, petal," he mumbled, settling the tray across her lap, the legs denting the mattress on either side of her thighs.

She smiled as she gazed down at her meal for the night, the vision tinted in pink at the thought of Harry stalking around the kitchen as she slept, making her first warm meal since he'd left. Though it wasn't a new development, the love felt she knowing that he'd learned how to cook for no other reason than to take care of her almost consumed her.

"Thank you," she said as he sunk down on the edge of the mattress at her side.

He nodded to her, brows still furrowed before he prompted, "Drink some more water while it cools, please. I read lots of water is supposed to help cure illnesses."

There was that love again, almost taking her whole. If not for the pain in her throat—probably time to take another round of medicine, but she was sure Harry already had that covered—she would have teased him some. Instead, she was left with that rosy vision again in her head, this time of him scrolling through his phone with that same determined set in his features, reading about at home remedies for a cold. That scene only allowed for a small okay to be croaked out of (Y/N)'s throat as she reached for the bottle on the tray.

A beat passed as (Y/N) sipped on the cool water, the temperature on the line between being both soothing and burning on her raw throat with how chilled it was.

"May I ask you something, petal?"

(Y/N) raised her brows at his words, finding his gaze already trained on hers from her side. "Sure," she swallowed, taking a breath before sucking down more water, not having known how dehydrated she was until the first sip.

His gaze dropped down to the bowl at her lap, pursing his lips before meeting her gaze again. "Please know that you may tell me no, but this is something I'd really like to do for you if you'd let me."

The prelude to his request made (Y/N) nervous as she listened. If he thought she had the energy to partake in some welcome home sex, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Okay."

Shuffling closer to her with the sheets fluffing around him, Harry reached for the sterling spoon that had been placed off to the side of her dinner. He matched her eyes, his own clear and artificially green, before he spoke, "May I feed you?"

The breath of laughter that fell from her lips didn't help the ache in her lungs, but she couldn't help it as she processed his request. "Really? You want to do that?"

Giving a definitive nod, Harry continued, "Yes. I read that illnesses like these can make your muscles sore and movement something of a hindrance. I want to help you, if it's alright with you."

How was she supposed to deny him when he looked to her with that strong set in his jaw, mind made up with how madly he wanted to take care of her? He reminded her of the kitten he sometimes emulated with those purrs that rumbled from his chest, features in a determined pout though devotion swam through his gaze as he looked at her.

"Okay," she settled on, her lightly chapped lips forming a smile as she gazed at him, "Thank you, H."

He brightened at the sound of her consent, shooting her a soft lipped smile before he scooped out a spoonful of soup loaded with pasta and greens. He hesitated bringing the bite to her mouth, pressing the back of his free hand against the ceramic bowl. The action only further deepened the crease between his brows before he matched her gaze again. "Tell me if 's still too hot, petal. 'M afraid 'm not the best judge of temperature."

Maybe it was the cold in her system moving to her head, but (Y/N) couldn't stop herself before a watery smile made its way to her lips that matched the tears on her waterline. "I'm sure it's just fine, Harry. Thank you."

It was the sight of her with tears in her eyes that made Harry drop the utensil back into the warm soup, his hands coming to cradle her cheeks in his palms. "Petal, what's wrong? Are y'hurting again?" he rambled, an undercurrent of panic steeping his words, "It's too soon for more medication, but I can try to figure something out for you, okay?"

(Y/N) shook her head, unable to stop herself as a pair of tears seeped from her eyes and the lump in her throat further burned her already swollen insides. "No, no, that's not it. You're just... I just really love you. Thank you for being here."

The curve of his brows turned downward, rounding out his features as if he were gazing at a puppy. "Oh, petal," he crooned, dropping his head to press a delicate kiss to the full of her lips, "I love you, too, so much. I love taking care of you almost as much, you know that? Not a single place I'd rather be when I've got you right here."

She canted her head in his hold, smushing her cheek against his palms. "Even if I've got more snot than brains right now?"

That finally caused a smile to crack at his features. "You are the most divine patient I've ever tended to, I swear it."

A watery laugh fell from her lips at his praise, her smile uplifting her features and causing the remaining tears on her waterline to rise into her view. Turning her face in his hands, she pressed her lips to his cool palm. Her kiss lingered on his hand for a moment longer before she wrapped her own fingers around his wrists, pulling them from her face. "Sorry," she started, a bit bashful now, "I didn't mean to cry all over you. But, really, thank you."

"Don't be sorry," he said, the words like a mantra at this point, "I never mind taking care of you, no matter the state. I jus' want you to be well, that is m'only request." Before she could bubble off another round of watery gratitude, Harry dropped one of her hands in favor of reaching for the abandoned silverware. "Now, I need to have y'fed before this goes as cold as I am."

(Y/N) watched with a bursting heart as he scooped a bite out for her before bringing it to her lips. He murmured a small careful, darling to her as she took the spoonful of soup. The temperature was just right despite his worries, flavors perfectly crafted and so noticeably Harry-made with the seasoning habits he had picked up while learning what her favorites and preferences were. She could feel his eyes on her as she swallowed down the bite, the warmth soothing the frigidness that came along with the ice water in her bottle.

When he hesitated to spoon out another bite for her, (Y/N) knew what he was looking for. Squeezing the hand he had wrapped in hers, she smiled at him in encouragement, his features softening at the sight. "This is really good, Harry. You got it perfect—I already feel a little better."

Biting back the smile that threatened to take over his features, Harry gave out another helping from the bowl in her lap. "Truthfully?" he murmured, waiting as she chewed, "You're already feeling well?"

He was too cute, her vampire. "I wouldn't say well, exactly," she reasoned, "But, I'm sure I'll feel close to it after I'm done."

(Y/N) felt her heart bang against her ribcage with the power of its beats as she gazed at him. He was all but glowing with pride. She loved giving that to him, even if he found out later that she still wasn't feeling all that well despite his food.

"Well enough to take a warm shower with me?" he asked after a few moments, having ushered a couple more bites of his curing food to her mouth, "The warmth should help your sinuses, and soothe any aches, I've learned."

While the idea of standing up for at least twenty minutes (if not longer with the addition of Harry under the water) made her more tired than she can remember being all weekend, this was just another thing she couldn't imagine denying Harry (and herself, really) of. Plus, he'd wash her hair for her, and that was almost better than the idea of the warm water all together.

"You'll wash my hair for me?" she asked, swallowing down another bite of cheese filled pasta and kale.

The smile that bloomed across Harry's features was all the response she needed.

"It would be m'pleasure, darling."

—————

its been SO long since I wrote for vamp h I hope I still have the vibes right for them!!! thank u so much to the patient people that requested a blurb like this so long ago and thank u to everyone who read this!! so sorry for any mistakes and if you have any requests or ideas of your own please send them in!!!

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moonchildstyles · 3 years

Text

prosecco

prosecco part one: harry is just on the edge of thirty-five, and y/n is someone he's sure he shouldn't get involved with. until she seeks him out, anyway, and he realizes no one has ever really shown her how she should be treated.

wordcount: 14k+

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Harry hadn't realized how long it had been until he walked through the chattering restaurant.

He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had gone out; out for something more than a business meeting or picking up takeout to bring back home where he would eat while pouring over paperwork for the next day. It wasn't until he spotted the door to the private room where a friend's birthday party was being held that he realized it had been a little over six months since he had allowed himself to relax and enjoy the life his hard work had earned him. He could barely contain the bubbling excitement he felt as he reached the door to the party, able to hear the quiet chatter of his friends on the other side.

"Harry! You made it!"

He heard the slightly drunken voice call for him as soon as he slipped through the door. The room was bathed in soft lighting, a private bar lined the back wall of the room with various tables set up throughout, people sat at some while others were only used to house gifts and food. Strips of windows allowed for a look outside the restaurant, both of the city life outside and the quiet patio out back. The patio area was left with only a few others milling about, having been rented out in conjunction with the main party room.

Harry looked to whoever it was that called for him, finding his friend, Tawny, already making her way over with a flute of a bubbling, amber liquid in her hand. A smile stretched across his features at the sight. He had missed this.

"I was just telling them how I was worried you weren't going to make it, thinking you got called into some meeting last minute," she continued as she reached him, clumsily gesturing behind her with the flute in her hand. She settled a friendly hand on his bicep, using the hold to steady herself as she looked up at him with flushed cheeks.

"Not tonight. Nice to see you again," Harry smiled, leaning down and wrapping an arm around her waist in a hug. "Where's Charlotte?" he asked as he drew away, referencing the birthday girl for the night.

"Oh! She's by the bar with Tom and Jenny." Tawny pointed him in the direction of the bar, Charlotte being the one dressed in a pair of bright, paisley printed bottoms with a sparkling birthday tiara on her head.

Harry nodded his head, turning to match Tawny's gaze again before stepping towards the bar. "I'll find you later, yeah? 'M gonna go say hi."

She only nodded her head before flitting off to another group, leaving Harry to navigate through to the bar. He greeted each person who noticed him, promising to return later to catch everyone up on what he had been doing since they last saw him (just a bunch of nothing filled with paperwork and late nights at the office).

"Charlotte! Happy Birthday!" he bubbled when he reached the bar, opening his arms to wrap her in a hug.

"Thank you so much for coming, H. It's been so long since you've come out with us," she smiled at him, reciprocating his hug.

Harry pulled up a barstool after they parted from their hug, setting his gift for her down on the bartop. "I know, 'm sorry. Jus' been busy lately, but 'm gonna try to come out more. I miss everyone."

"Don't be sorry, its okay! We all understand, I'm just happy you made it" she insisted, the tinseled base of her birthday crown catching the light as she shook her head. Her eyes brightened as she caught sight of something behind his head, a beaming smile tugging at her lips as she waved whoever it was over. "Mitch, look who's here! Harry finally made it!"

"Harry! How have you been?! You haven't been out with us in so long!"

It felt good to be back.

—————

"'M gonna grab another drink, I'll be right back!" Harry called over his shoulder, waving behind him to the group that had brought him out to the patio with them. Once everyone got over the whole how are you, its been so long small talk, the group settled into the swing of things just as they used to. It felt nice to be surrounded by people he didn't know through work, both the patio and the main room now filled with people celebrating Charlotte's birthday and people he hadn't seen for the better part of the year. He did feel a bit guilty, though, feeling like people were paying as much—if not more—attention to him than Charlotte for the night. But, she didn't seem to mind (or notice at all, really) as she flitted about the party with a flushed smile on her face, draping herself across every person she talked to.

When he reached the bar, the bartender raised a questioning brow at him with a smile on her face. "Jus' another Old Fashioned, please," Harry requested, leaning over the bar before pulling out his phone and scrolling through his missed notifications. He tried his best to peel away from the work related emails that generated on his lock screen, but he couldn't help but peek at the subject line before someone saved him from his self-inflicted torture.

"You never came and found me again, asshole," Tawny giggled behind him, coming up to stand beside him at the bar.

"Sorry," he laughed, gratefully locking his phone and putting away the emails, "Mitch and everyone pulled me outside, and you know I can't be pulled away from karaoke."

Tawny playfully rolled her eyes at him, twisting against the bar so her back was against the structure as she faced the main room. Harry mimicked her gaze, looking over his shoulder to find what had taken her attention. A few new faces had shown up since he had arrived; faces of people he couldn't wait to catch up with. He pretended as if he wasn't looking for one guest in particular, though he knew his shoulders minutely dropped in disappointment when his fleeting scan of the room came up empty. Maybe, she wasn't coming tonight.

"Oh, my god," Tawny breathed, her voice low as a look of disbelief crossed her features. She spared a glance towards Harry before returning her eyes to the subject of her shock. "I think Andrew came with Iris tonight."

He recognized the names but couldn't place why Tawny would be so surprised to see them together. They both were apart of their friend group, though Andrew always left a sour taste in Harry's mouth.

He was a bit of a dick who acted as if he were still some college frat guy despite being only a year younger than Harry himself; he was rude in the name of being 'blunt', and enjoyed entertaining a playboy lifestyle while promising these women a future of the opposite with him. Harry didn't like him, but he tolerated him for the sake of being the bigger person. As for Iris, he only really hung out with her when the whole group was present but she was very nice and very funny as far as he could remember. It wasn't odd for some of their group to pair off with each other, so he didn't understand what Tawny was getting at. Had he really missed so much?

"What's wrong with that?" he questioned, watching the way Iris leaned against Andrew's side as they talked to one of Charlotte's friends he didn't recognize.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't hung out in a while," Tawny mused, pulling her disappointed stare from the couple, "You haven't heard what happened with (Y/N) yet, have you?"

(Y/N).

A smile threatened to tug at his lips at the mention of her name. That's who he'd been looking for.

Harry couldn't deny the small crush he harbored for her, never able to pull his eyes from her or his attention away when he was in her presence. She was funny, and smart, and so kind, and entirely too beautiful to be fair. He remembered when Iris brought her around the very first time, the two of them being close, and Harry could already tell she was going to be hard to forget. It had been at a little get together at Charlotte's house, only the core group of people in attendance with Iris' plus one, and he remembers being so caught up when he first saw her, he completely stopped speaking in the middle of a conversation with Mitch.

After promptly being teased, Harry made it his mission to get to know her that night, listening intently to each of her little stories and the small introduction Iris offered on her behalf. He found that they had the same taste in music and a similar sense of humor that Harry could see made her feel more at ease when he would laugh at her jokes. He had planned on asking for her number and hoping to make plans to see her again by the end of the night, having decided he wanted to see more of her without the pressure of their friend group watching on. It wasn't until (Y/N) tossed out some throw away comment to Iris just as everyone was saying their goodbyes, that he put his phone away and realized he was going to need to minimize his affection for her to see her as nothing but a friend.

"No, I have to go to bed early tonight. I have a lecture at eight tomorrow morning with that one professor that marks you off if you're not at least five minutes early." He remembers the way she rolled her eyes as she finished off her comment, shrugging her jacket on her shoulders before following after Iris to say goodnight to everyone.

She was in school. She was young enough to still be in college, and Harry couldn't help but feel guilty for spending so much time flirting with her that night and planning his next move. He'd never really considered himself old before, still being on the so-called 'right side' of thirty-five (though he figured he's more so on the precipice of the right side, his birthday only a few months away), but there was something about the fact that she was young enough to be taking classes to prepare her for a career ahead while he had already been established for years in his, that made him feel guilty. He knew by all intents and purposes, there wasn't anything wrong with being interested in her, but he couldn't help but feel like the creepy older man that he'd heard women complain about so often. She probably didn't want him following her around and trying to earn her affection when she was just trying to make friends.

So, that night, Harry remembers the way he quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket—earning a confused glance from Mitch—before offering (Y/N) a friendly hug goodbye, and a quiet nice to meet you! falling from his lips. He lingered only a few minutes longer afterwards, following after Mitch who left soon after his own goodbyes. Since then, he'd made a choice every time she came out with them, to keep things on a level just below professional. He cared about her, but he'd rather keep her at an arm's length than make her any degree of uncomfortable, even if that crush he had for her never really dissipated.

"Um, no," Harry answered, the bartender sliding him his icy glass, "What happened?" He dreaded to hear what could have conspired between (Y/N) and Andrew, the latter's name already causing a tick in his jaw.

A downturned expression pulled at Tawny's features, the kind of look he imagined she would pull after watching a commercial with sad animals. "Apparently," she started, waving her hand in front of her, "(Y/N) and Andrew had been talking for the past couple of weeks, and they were supposed to go out last weekend, on a real date. (Y/N) told Charlotte that they were supposed to meet at a restaurant, but Andrew just stood her up. She waited for over an hour, I'm pretty sure, and he didn't even say anything until almost midnight that night. He told her he was 'sorry'"—she curled her fingers in the air to mimic quotation marks around the word, as well as a roll of her eyes,—"but that it was 'probably for the best, anyway', and that he'd been seeing someone else or something like that. She told Charlotte everything after she got home from the restaurant that night, but no one's really heard from her since. And it seems like whoever Andrew was seeing, though, turned out to be Iris."

Harry followed Tawny's line of sight, viewing the way Iris held onto Andrew's arm so tightly through a different lens. Of course, Andrew would try it with (Y/N), of course he would. Not only did he try to worm his way into her life, but he took the same chance Harry had been dying to take for months, and used it to tear (Y/N) down and replace her with someone he knew was close to her. Harry felt a bout of anger flare through him at the realization of what Andrew had most likely done to (Y/N). He always bragged on and on about how he was able to charm one girl this night, and another the next, telling them sweet stories of their beauty and the way they made his heart race and how he would do anything to be with them. He was good at playing the shy, crushing boy just before he got the attention he wanted—typically some kind of sexual favor—, then leaving. Harry was always more than disinterested and disgusted with these stories, and to add (Y/N)'s face into the mix did nothing to settle the tense that fell over his shoulders and the irrational thought of marching over to Andrew and finally laying into him the way he'd wanted since he met him.

"Fucking dick, right?" Tawny interrupted his stewing, her words coming out as an exasperated sigh.

"'S what I've been sayin' since he started coming around," Harry grumbled, sipping on the drink in his hand as a way to stop himself from throwing it over Andrew's head. "How do any of us even fucking know him?"

Tawny laughed at his question, shaking her head as if she had no idea either. She settled after a moment, her features taking on that pity look again. "It just sucks because (Y/N)'s so nice, and she told Charlotte that she thought he really liked her. I don't think she's even talked to anyone since she got here tonight, she's still so upset."

"She's here?" A furrow pulled at Harry's brow as he faced Tawny. Since becoming more comfortable around everyone, (Y/N) had turned into something of a butterfly that flitted around every get-together and left a trail of bright laughter and sparkling smiles behind her. She typically left the wallflower position open for Harry to fill, allowing him the privilege of admiring her.

"Exactly," Tawny mumbled, casting her gaze off to a table to the side of the room, hidden by the pile of gifts on another. Harry could just barely see the pink of (Y/N)'s top around the gift bags flooding the table in front of her, her face lit up by her phone in her hands and a watered down glass of something next to her with only chips of ice left in place of the cubes. "Are you going to talk to her?" Tawny asked, sipping on her own drink beside Harry.

He thought about it for a moment, figuring that if she wanted to talk about it, she would have. And she would probably want to talk to someone she actually knew, not some guy that hung out with her friends occasionally. "I don't know. If she wanted to talk about it, she would have with one of y'guys, already. I don't want to push her."

"If she's going to talk about it with anyone, I think it'd be you, actually. She really likes you, you know." Tawny spoke so nonchalantly, Harry didn't think she realized just how hard his heart was beating in that moment. "Every time we've gone out since you got promoted, she's asked if you were going to be there, and when you were going to be coming out with us again; she missed you. I think she'd be really happy to talk to you, H."

Harry took one more glance at (Y/N), finding her gaze still fixed on her phone though it didn't look like she was even seeing what was on her screen.

He slowly nodded his head, picking his drink up from the bar before looking towards Tawny. "I'll be right back."

Harry only saw Tawny nod at him with a small smile on her face before he made his way towards (Y/N)'s private table. She didn't notice him as he rounded the corner around the gift table.

"Do y'mind if I sit with you?" Harry had barely gotten his question out of his mouth before (Y/N) snapped her head up to look at him, her phone falling flat onto the table in front of her. It wasn't until then that Harry saw the smallest of glittery little tears sitting in the waterline of her eyes.

(Y/N) was quick to wipe them away, feigning the action as a motion to move her hair from her face. She beamed up at him with a surprised look on her face, one that eased his heart just a bit from the revelation that she had been on the verge of crying just a minute ago. "Harry! Of course, you can! I didn't know you were coming tonight, its been so long."

A small smile tugged at Harry's features as he pulled out the chair beside her. "It has been a while," he affirmed, biting his tongue to stop himself from immediately diving into calling Andrew every horrible name in the book.

"How have you been? I heard you got promoted at your marketing firm, right?" She voice titled upward at around the title of his job, posing a question around if he really worked in marketing or if she'd got it wrong.

Harry couldn't stop the lopsided smile that hit his features. She remembered.

"Marketing, yeah," he confirmed, nodding his head as his fingers traced around his glass, "Jus' been busy with work. Definitely a lot more paperwork now, but 's worth it. How 'bout you? How are your classes and everything?"

(Y/N)'s gaze fell when he started his line of questioning, her smile dropping just the smallest bit at the corners. "I've been good. It's been a long week, lots of homework since finals are coming up. But it's really nice to see everyone again, I feel like it's been so long. Longer for you, though, I'm sure." She ended with a small laugh, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, but Harry wasn't surprised. He knew she was lying.

He remembers being her age, and wanting so badly for everyone to like him. The ways he shifted and changed his personality to be the person he thought others wanted him to be, in hopes of earning their acceptance. She was trying so hard to make it seem like she was just as happy as usual, make it easy for others to interact with her. She was much too good for Andrew, and for anyone really—including, himself. How Andrew could act so nonchalantly after blowing out her light, Harry would never understand. And, if he had a better back and didn't have a meeting tomorrow morning, he would have dragged Andrew outside and finally tried out all the moves he's learned since he's taken up boxing. But he couldn't leave (Y/N), not when she so obviously didn't want to be alone, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

"If y'need any help, I could try," he offered, a small smile on his face as he tried to meet her downturned gaze, "Don't know if m'business degree would be much help in your english classes, though."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat as a ghost of a smile crossed her features, accompanied by a breathy laugh she stifled down. "You mean you've never had to analyze Beowulf and describe each of the pagan elements and how they pertained to the Christian beliefs of the eighth century?" She tried her best to keep her face straight as she spoke, but Harry could still see the smile edging at her lips.

"'S crazy the way they jus' gave out degrees when I was in school, cause I've got no idea what you're even talking about," Harry laughed, absently leaning over the table as he spoke, closer to (Y/N). His eyes were glued to the way she laughed at his teasing, the bright smile that covered her face and, if he hadn't known any better, he would have thought she was the happiest girl in the room with the way sunshine poured from her giggle.

Harry let a beat pass between them, feeling his own smile fade as he remembered why he came over in the first place. He didn't want to pull the small shred of happiness that had wormed its way onto her features, but he also didn't want her to feel like she had to hide the way she felt just because she wanted others to feel comfortable around her.

He swallowed, fixing his gaze to his glass, following the droplets of water dotting the outside. "Tawny told me, by the way," he mumbled, flicking his gaze to her for just a second before settling back on his drink. "About—um—about Andrew."

"Oh, that" she breathed, her tone edged with a laugh Harry wasn't expecting. He shifted his eyes to see her reaction, finding a forced kind of amusement tainting her features. Though she tried to feign lightheartedness, there was an embarrassed edge that lined her features in the way she bit the inside of her cheek and refused to match his gaze.

He rolled his lips between his teeth as he figured his next words, cautiously eyeing the reddened waterline of her eyes and the sheen that now covered her irises. "I jus' wanted to tell y'that 'm sorry, and y'don't deserve that. Andrew's a dick and 'm here for you, even though I can't come around all the time. 'M always here."

She pursed her lips as he spoke, seemingly unable to even process his words as she fought off the small collection of tears that pooled in the waterline of her eyes. Her bottom lip wobbled the harder she tried to fight off the sobs that were working in her chest, sniffling her nose. Against her wishes, the tears lacquering her eyes overwhelmed the ledge of her waterline, her tears flowing in hot streaks that left streams down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaky and barely audible over the distant chatter around the room. She delicately brought her fingers to her eyes, trying her best to stop the tears from pouring down her face. She refused to look at Harry, or even in the other direction where Andrew and Iris were still fawning over one another, her gaze fixed to her glass that was now more water than lemonade. "I don't know why I'm cr-crying. It's not even that big of a deal, I'm just being over-overdramatic. I'm sorry."

Harry waved away her apologies with a shake of his head, his brow furrowing as he scooted his chair closer to her's. He hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder, knowing she needed comfort more than any rules he had set for himself. He pulled her closer to his side, her tears now carrying small bits of black from her mascara. She leaned gratefully into him, her cheek laying against his shoulder as Harry propped his chin on the top of her head.

"Don't need to be sorry, love, really. You're not being overdramatic, promise." His voice was quiet as he spoke against her hair, even sparing a small kiss to her temple as he squeezed his arm around her shoulder. He let her cry into him for a moment, her hands fluttering over her face in an attempt to clean her face from the already smudged black under her eyes and the tracks trailing down her cheeks.

He cooed small reassuring words to her, hoping she would still be able to hear them over the stuttered breathing that filtered through her lungs. He tried to shield her as best he could from the party, covering most of her with his own body so she could feel some semblance of privacy. He heard her breathe something similar to that of This is so embarrassing, broken up by stuttered breaths and her crackling voice.

"C'mon," he whispered to her, ducking his head to her ear. He started getting up from his seat, offering his hand out for (Y/N) to take, "Let's go somewhere quiet, yeah?"

"Okay," she peeped, keeping her head down as she stood up, pressing her palm to Harry's before lacing their fingers together.

He led her through to the patio, the space now cleared as the temperature had dropped. He pulled her to one of the tables in the corner, so no one could peek at them from the main room. One side of the table had a booth setup, allowing (Y/N) to pull Harry along to slide in next to her. Once settled into the farthest corner of the booth, she slipped her hand out from his and tended to the petite tears that had continued to fall down her cheeks as he led them outside.

Her fingertips were smudged with the black of her mascara, matching that of the soft skin of her undereyes. A crease formed in Harry's brow, watching the way she began harshly scrubbing at her cheeks as her breathing came in stuttering inhales.

"Sweetheart," he cooed, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist, "Stop, 's okay."

He pulled her hands from her face, before grabbing one of the cloth napkins set out on the table. Twisting in his spot, he brought the linen to her face, the tip of his finger wrapped in the fabric. He pat the dewy skin on her cheeks, flakes of black from her lashes being transferred on to the clean white of the napkin.

"I'm being s-so dumb, I'm so sorry, Harry," she swallowed around the lump in her throat, her voice nasally as Harry delicately pat at her undereyes. "The one time you're able t-to come out with us and I cry all over you for no-no reason."

"Stop," Harry repeated with a sigh. Pinching her chin between his index finger and thumb, he gently positioned her head as he continued to wipe at her eyes and try his best to lessen the tears still slowly leaking from her ducts. "You're not dumb. Or overdramatic. 'S normal t'feel this way. What he did was awful, (Y/N), and I can't imagine how it feels to see him again so soon with someone else. Y'don't deserve that. You're not dumb for feeling."

As he spoke, Harry was aware of the way her bottom lip wobbled under his hold and the rejuvenated sheen of tears that fell over her eyes. She drew her gaze to match his own concerned one before she fell into his chest, Harry abandoning the now dirtied linen in his hand in favor of wrapping his arms around her. She cuddled closely to his chest, her face buried in his neck with her own arms looped round his middle.

"Just sucks," she whispered into his skin, her voice lighter than the kiss of her lashes against the column of his throat.

"I know, but 's gonna be okay," Harry sighed, cautiously resting his cheek on the top of her head. He wanted to say more, his thoughts wiped of all other goals than to make her happy. All he wanted was to speak the truth, sing her praises and promise her just how much better she was than Andrew and the grief he had caused her. But he didn't want to scare her, or make her any kind of uncomfortable, especially since she had sought out comfort in him.

"Harry?"

"Hm?" He stroked his hand down her back, (Y/N)'s own hands fisting at the softened fabric of his shirt.

She swallowed, Harry able to feel the motion against his shoulder before she spoke. "Is this always going to happen to me?"

Harry swore his heart broke at her words. The resigned edging to her voice made it all that much more painful as it felt like the edges of his cracked heart raked down his chest. He gently peeled her from the home she had made against his chest, his hands on her shoulders. He ducked his head to match her downcast gaze.

"(Y/N)," he started, a stern edging to the honey coated call, "You are so kind, and smart, and funny, and gorgeous. There are so many people who realize all of those things, I promise you. And those are the people who are going to treat y'right, and take care of you the way y'deserve." A wild idea flittered through Harry's head, threatening to slip from his mouth before he stopped himself. Though he wished he could allow them to fall, he was scared of the reaction he would garner, especially when (Y/N) was already so emotional. He didn't want to push any harder.

She shook her head as she looked off to the side, avoiding his relentless gaze. The leftover tears from her previous sessions pooled on her waterline, dripping down in slow succession. "But this is what happens every time. How else am I supposed to be treated?"

Harry's eyes flicked down to his hands that laid in his lap, twisting his rings around his fingers. He rolled his lips between his teeth, making a last minute decision he hoped he wouldn't regret.

He brought his head up to find (Y/N) also looking towards his hands, the saddened look on her face he hoped would be wiped away. "Y'deserve so much, (Y/N). Anyone would be lucky to show y'how y'should be treated,"—he nervously gulped before squaring his shoulders and feigning confidence—"How a man should treat you, not whatever it is that Andrew thinks he is."

Her eyes were wide as she finally matched his gaze, the dotted glow of the fairy lights around them adding a shine to her eyes he noticed was no longer from tears. She didn't offer any commentary, only looking to him for answers to questions she hadn't even posed yet. But he knew. And he knew just how he was going to answer them, even if he had to pretend he had no doubt in his mind of her reaction.

"I could show you," he started, tracing his gaze along her features in an effort to gauge her reaction. "If y'wanted, I could take y'out and show y'how that date should have gone, and how they all should be after. As friends, though, of course."

His final statement was added in a rush. All he wanted was to see her smile again, this picture of her with tears in her eyes and tracks down her cheeks doing more destruction on his heart than he thought possible. Although this was a bit of a self-indulgent way of getting her to smile, he would never expect anything from her or their time together.

"A date?" she asked, a tint of disbelief to her voice.

Harry bit back his smile, teeth digging into the full of his bottom lip. He nodded his head, hoping he hadn't blown his chance at even just a friendship with her.

He watched on as a smile bloomed across (Y/N)'s features. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, I would." The matching dimples on either cheek made themselves known as Harry matched her smile. "Heard y'missed me anyway, so it'd be nice to spend time together." His voice held a teasing lilt as the moment turned to a much lighter note.

Her jaw dropped in a shocked expression, her eyes wide. "Who told you that?! Was it Tawny? I told her not to tell you!"

"Why not, love?" Harry beamed, his heart skipping a beat over her admission of missing him. "I think 's cute."

"Stop," she whined, a shy smile on her face as she flitted her gaze to the scene behind him.

Harry couldn't stop himself before his response dropped from his mouth, but he felt like he could say anything at this point. He could say and do anything as long as she looked at him with the stars in her eyes (even though he was pretty sure those were just the fairy lights). "I missed y'too, you know. 'M really happy I got to see you tonight."

Her smile only widened as she dropped her gaze to her lap where her hands suddenly became restless under the attention. "Me too, even if I started crying two minutes into talking." Harry could see the roll of her eyes.

"I mean, y'still got a date out of it, so I think y'did alright."

"Yeah," she smiled, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to her head, "I've never been on a 'friend date' before. Thank you for asking me, Harry. It means a lot."

Though the addition of the word 'friend' caused a small drop to his shoulders, he was more than excited for the date, even with the predetermined conditions. The night wasn't going to be about him and his feelings for her, it was going to be about the way she deserved to be treated and the wiping away of the imprint Andrew left on her. The night was going to be about making her happy. That was all Harry wanted from her.

"Y'deserve it, sweetheart."

—————

As soon as she was ready, Harry led them back to the thick of the party with her following closely behind him. He had spent the rest of the party closer to (Y/N) than he had ever allowed himself. Especially as the night was winding down, the main group of them (minus Iris and Andrew, who had snuck off earlier in the night and never returned) being the only people remaining, (Y/N) seemed to have made it her mission to stick by Harry's side as much as she could. They hadn't talked much more about the date other than setting it up for next Friday night after he got off work, allowing Harry to fall back into his favored wallflower position as (Y/N) lit up the room despite the red rim around her eyes and the puff of her cry-swollen lips.

It was only after Charlotte had started dozing off with her birthday tiara going sideways on the top of her head, that the night was called to be wrapped up. Even after all of the chattering goodbyes were shared, and the joking requests that Harry shouldn't wait so long before coming out again, he couldn't help himself from delaying his departure from (Y/N).

She had just shrugged on her purple jacket, clumsily tugging up the zipper when (Y/N) looked to Harry who was lent against the doorway with his car keys in one hand and phone in the other. Harry had looked at her through his lashes, a small smile on his lips as he caught her gaze.

"Bye, Harry," she said, her voice soft and quiet to match the warming glow of the last few threads of light strung across the room.

"Don't sound so sad," he started with a coo, opening his arms for her to fall into, "We'll see each other again really soon, remember?" She nodded her head against his chest, Harry able to feel the smush of her cheek against his skin as she smiled.

She was the first to pull back, Harry allowing her to set the the pace of their contact though he wished he could have frozen that moment and just held her for even a second longer. Now that he knew what it felt like to have her warmth seeping through his skin, he couldn't get enough of it.

She looked to him with a softness to her gaze he was sure no one but her could ever achieve, as if her irises were melting before him. "Yeah, we will," her voice just barely louder than a whisper. Harry felt his breathing hitch in his throat as her hands slid from his neck and down his chest with her palms laying flat against the fabric of his jacket. Her own gaze followed her hands, only bashfully looking to Harry through her lashes. "Thank you again, by the way. For staying with me tonight, I'm sure it wasn't how you were planning on spending your first night hanging out with us all again."

A lopsided smile tugged at his features, leaving a soft kink in his lips as he gave a reassuring squeeze with his hands on her waist. "Of course. Whenever y'need me I'll be there. I wouldn't have wanted to spend it any other way."

She dropped her eyes to his feet as she took in his words, the toes of his boots just a hair away from touching her own shoes. Small strands of hair fell and obstructed Harry's view of her face, something he had to stop himself from fixing by brushing the hairs back and cradling her cheeks so she would face him again. Instead he allowed her that small moment of shy privacy, knowing that with the grouping of people who were distractedly eyeing their interaction, they would both surely be interrogated soon enough.

"I should probably go," she mumbled, reluctantly pulling her hands from his chest and taking a step back as she pulled her keys from her jacket. "But we'll see each other soon, right?"

Her reiteration of his words only solidified the smile on his face.

Harry nodded his head, dropping his hands from her waist and sliding them back into the pockets of his jacket. "'M excited already."

"Me too."

(Y/N) made her exit after that, tossing a wave to the rest of the group before looking to Harry one more time with a quiet smile on her face. He wanted to walk her out tonight, indulge himself the smallest bit and give himself more time with her, but he wanted to save everything for when he took her out for real.

It wasn't until Harry had made his own exit and was getting his car started to go home did he receive the text he was expecting from the moment he pulled (Y/N) outside with him.

Tawny

I told you so.

—————

Harry doesn't think he's been this nervous in a long time. Maybe it was because he hadn't been on a date since his last relationship (a little over two years, then), or because he's never wanted a first date to go so perfectly in his life. He had made reservations the next morning after Charlotte's party and had gotten to know just how few florists were in his area with the amount of time he spent browsing over bouquets. The whole seven days he had to wait to see (Y/N) again were spent with Harry trying his best to plan out every single detail, right down to the outfit he wanted to wear in the event that she wore a this dress he had seen posted to her instagram in the weeks prior. He wanted to match her.

He looked at himself in the mirror one more time, the bouquet of peach colored roses and white daisies resting on the table below. Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair. His curls tumbled through his fingers as he puffed out his cheeks with a heavy exhale. His gaze traveled down his form, hands distractedly smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in his black blazer. He carefully tugged on the mint green dress shirt underneath, pulling the lapels out just far enough that the delicate baby's breath flower embroidery could be seen. He worried for a minute, debating if he should button his top back up—if his show of skin, with the tips of his bird tattoos showing, was too much. He shook off his indecision, instead adjusting the string of pearls around his neck so the clasp faced the back.

He had to stop himself when he swore he saw a chip in his freshly painted black nails, knowing he was convincing himself of such flaws out of jittery nerves. He double checked the time on his phone; thirty-two minutes before he promised he would be at her door. He wanted to ensure he wasn't a second late to pick her up. He cradled the bouquet delicately to his chest, and took in a deep breath before leaving.

The drive was familiar from the few times (Y/N) opted to host gatherings and Harry was able to make it. While he was eased by the knowledge—the possibility of him showing up at the wrong complex at a slim-to-none chance—the familiarity caused the time to go by faster than Harry even realized. With nerves still fluttering through his fingers and seeping into his veins, he walked the staircase up to her apartment. He gripped the bouquet like a lifeline as the pacing off is footsteps matched the thrumming of his heart. The path to her door was a blur, Harry acting on autopilot until the golden lettering declaring her apartment number stared him in the face. With a practiced breath, he knocked on the door.

Each second felt like an hour with his heartbeat creating a soundtrack that rushed through his ears. He held the bouquet in front of his chest, hoping for the flowers to be the first thing she saw when she opened the door. He could faintly hear the rattling of the doorknob on the other side before it was swung open to unveil his date for the night.

In her pajamas.

"Harry?" (Y/N) looked to him with her eyes wide and her jaw dropped in a small gape. Her skin was clean of makeup with her hair pinned into a knot on the top of her head. Strawberry printed pajama shorts adorned her legs with a worn grey top slouching off her shoulder.

This wasn't quite how Harry had pictured her outfit for the night, assuming she would have opted for one of those flirty outfits she posted on her social medias, but if this is what she wanted, he had no quarrels. He couldn't deny she still looked beautiful, so he had no reason to complain.

"Are you ready?" he questioned, a lopsided smile on his lips as he gazed down at her. She most likely needed to put shoes on at the very least, if the fuzzy socks with cat faces printed all over them had anything to say.

Her gaze dropped to flowers held tightly in his grip. "You were serious? About the date?"

Harry's heart dropped at her words. Had she not been serious in her acceptance? Had he just made a huge fool of himself? He guessed he's avoided her before, but maybe now he would have to be much more deliberate with his appearances.

His free hand rubbed at the back of his burning neck, lowering his gaze to the flowers that now smelled too sweet. "Yeah," he breathed, an embarrassed flush working its way up his chest, "But if y'changed your mind or anything, I completely understand. I apologize for interrupting your ni—"

"No!" she rushed, flailing her hand in front of her to match her shaking head, "I-I didn't! I just thought you had only asked to make me feel better last week, since I was crying all over you and everything." Her voice ended in a humorless breath of a laugh, her gaze matching his with a bashful softness to her irises he had missed in her absence.

His smile turned a shy corner as the dimple in his cheek deepened. "I did want y'to feel better, but I meant it when I asked you. I really do wanna take y'out and show y'how you're supposed to be treated. If you'll let me."

"I want you to, really!" she stressed, bouncing in place with stray strands of hair leaking from her bun, "I'm so sorry, Harry, I guess I just—I don't know. I need to get ready, but I'll be right back! You can come in and wait, if you want." She stepped back from the doorframe, allowing Harry the space to slip in, the heels of his boots soundless against the fluffy grey rug in her walkway.

"These are for you, by the way," Harry smiled, handing the arrangement out for her as she locked he door behind him.

Her eyes rounded out as with a puppy dog's softness as she gazed solely up at him, as if she hadn't seen the bouquet at all. "They're so pretty, Harry. Thank you." She gave him the sweetest smile as she took them from his grip, muttering something about putting them in water. "You can put on some Netflix or something if you want, I'm so sorry you have to wait on me!" she called from the kitchen, her voice trailing farther away as she moved towards her room.

"'S not a problem, take your time," he answered back, moving towards the living room to her secondhand, brown suede sofa.

Just as he was about to take a seat on one of the cushions, he heard the sound of feet pattering along the hardwood. A moment later (Y/N) popped up beside him, still in her pajamas with her hair now pulled back by a pearl studded headband. She wrapped her arms around his middle with the full of her cheek smushed against his chest.

"Thank you so much, Harry," she mumbled against the fabric of his jacket, her grip tight. Sincerity dripped from her words, cloaking over his heart in a warming glow.

Without a thought, Harry draped his arms around her as best he could from the angle she offered. He dropped his head to rest on her hair, his cheek atop her head. With his eyes fluttering closed, he savored the contact and held her just as tightly as she.

"Of course, love," he whispered against her hair, lips brushing the crown of her head.

She reluctantly pulled back first, a soft smile on her face Harry hoped he would be able to memorize by the end of the night. "I'm gonna go finish, but I'll be as fast as I can."

With that, she scuttled off back down the hall. Harry couldn't shake the smile on his face as he settled on her couch, the ghost of her silhouette burned against his form. He mindlessly looked through the titles on the TV with no comprehension of what he was seeing, much too distracted with the memory of her hold. If he wasn't already completely gone for her before, he figured he would be going home love-drunk after this date.

Time passed with half an episode of Bake Off Harry didn't remember selecting playing from the television, he heard the sound of her feet, now clad in what had to be a set of heels, stepping down the hall. He stood from his spot on the couch, turning around to find her adjusting her outfit in the full length mirror posted on the wall beside the bathroom.

Just as he had hoped, the same clean, white dress she had posed in on her instagram weeks earlier adorned her body, embroidered with flowers the same shade of cream that matched the ones on Harry's own shirt. The satin base of the dress wrapped around her body, the hem ending at the middle of her thighs while the tulle overlay boasting the delicate blossoms reached her ankles. The silken tie in the waist tugged one side of the dress to the other, allowing the tulle skirt to split and sway behind her with each step she took. The neckline laid wide across her shoulders, framing her collarbones before the tulle of the sleeves wisped around her arms and cinched at her wrist. Her hair was simply held back by the pearl headband, the clean white matching that of her dress with her dewy lips and wide eyes stealing most of Harry's attention.

He was sure his jaw had dropped as soon as he caught sight of her. There was no other reaction that could have properly suited her appearance beside dropping to his knees in worship.

She looked to him once she gave up on taming the flyaways that escaped her hairstyle. She gave him a soft, apologetic smile, her lashes curving outwards with a flick towards her brows. "I tried to be as fast as I could, I hope I didn't mess up your plans."

"Y'look... gorgeous, (Y/N)." He couldn't manage any other thoughts to leave his mouth, nothing coherent enough to make sense.

She released her gaze from his with a shy smile on her face, finding interest in the white heels on her feet. "Thank you. I wanted to look like I belonged next to you."

Could a heart break and swell at the same time? In what world would she have to work at being on his level when she was so clearly leagues above him in all senses of the word?

"I dunno, love," Harry smiled, "I think everyone is gonna know I was the one that had to beg for a date with you." He couldn't find it in himself to be ashamed of his forward flirting, allowing himself the smallest of indulgences for the night knowing this would be a one time thing.

(Y/N) only held a bashful smile on her face at his words, the shine of the satin wrapped around her body rivaling that of the gleam in her eyes.

"Ready?" he asked again, mimicking that of when he first arrived at her apartment.

She was quick to nod her head and take his offered arm, still shy as she leaned against his side with the skirt of her dress brushing against his leg.

"We match! Like our flowers, I mean!" (Y/N) bubbled once he opened the car door for her, gaze attached to the flowers stitched on his top.

Harry smiled, nodding his head and mumbling out a small we do, huh. Just as he had hoped.

—————

"Reservation under Styles, please."

The hostess nodded her head, tapping away at the tablet in front of her as she offered a polite smile. (Y/N)'s hand was placed in the crook of Harry's elbow, her hold tight as she looked above at the crystalline chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pride puff at his chest from the way she seemed to be in awe of the restaurant he had picked for them that night. This was just the beginning of the follow through to his promise he made a week earlier. He planned on thoroughly proving how she deserved to be treated after other's had convinced her otherwise.

"C'mon," he whispered to her, his voice hush as he shuffled towards the friendly waitress that beckoned them to their table. (Y/N) snapped her head in his direction with her eyes still wide, reflecting the prismatic drops that hung from the chandeliers.

Harry maneuvered her in front of him, reluctantly pulling her delicate hold from his arm in favor of nudging her ahead of him. He stayed close behind (Y/N) as she followed the smartly dressed waitress, reassuringly cuddling her hand in his when she reached back. He smiled as he listened in to the way she shyly engaged in small talk with their waitress—who introduced herself to be Tara—with her free hand nervously toying with the satin bow at her waist.

"Is this table to your liking?" Tara asked, her smile bright as she stopped next to a small table set in an intimate corner of the restaurant.

"Yes, thank you," Harry responded for the both of them. He was quick to move around (Y/N), pulling out her chair before looking to her with a smile. She shyly thanked him with her voice quiet enough for only him to hear before settling in the offered seat. Harry pushed the chair in before rounding the table and sitting in his own across from her's.

The waitress made her exit after dropping off the menus with a promise to return in just a moment for their drink orders. Harry answered for the both of them, leaving (Y/N) to examine the menu in front of her with wide eyes and careful fingers lingering along the edges. He admired her with a small smile on his lips, taking in the way she seemed to attempt to memorize every single detail of everything in her sight.

"What do y'think?" he mused, leaning forward with his elbow balanced on the table and his chin propped in his hand.

She snapped her head up to face him, her eyes holding a moony sparkle as she looked at him. "Harry," she sighed, a dreamy tint to her tone, "You didn't have to take me somewhere this nice. I would've been happy to go anywhere with you."

"I know," Harry smiled, enjoying the sound of her affection for him, even if it was only as friends. "But I wanted to make this really special for you. Jus' like I promised, right?"

A timid smile spread over her features with the curl softened by his words. She lowered her gaze from his, Harry too caught up in how endearingly sweet she was to miss the sight of her melted irises.

Just then, Tara approached their table. Her smile was bright and polite as she greeted them. "What can I get you started with?" Tara looked to (Y/N) first, instinctually starting with ladies first.

She floundered under her gaze, flicking her wide eyes to Harry before glancing down at the menu in front of her. "Um—a water, please?" Her answer sounded like a question before she looked back to Harry, her expression akin to the embarrassed look she held just before crying at the party a week ago.

Tara nodded her head, her eyes fixed on the small notepad in her hand before placing her attention on Harry. "And you, sir?"

"Water as well, please. But, we'll share a bottle of your Château de Salle, if possible." He handed back the small drink menu to Tara, offering a smile as she scribbled his request.

"Of course, Mr. Styles. Good choice," she praised, sliding the small notepad into the pocket of her apron, "I'll be back with your drinks and for your dinner orders in just a minute." With that, Tara disappeared to tend to her other tables.

"What's a Ch-Chateau de Salle?" (Y/N) asked, her pronunciation of the wine shaky.

A smile spread across Harry's features. She was so cute. "'S wine," he explained, "A rosé. I think you'll like it."

"Oh," she breathed, her brows raised, "I probably shouldn't drink tonight actually."

"And why is that?" A pinch formed in his own as he gazed at her.

A timid smile pulled at her lips. "I don't know if you remember, but I'm a huge lightweight. I don't want to act too silly in a restaurant this nice." She finished with a laugh, surely recalling some memory of a party Harry halfway attended while the rest of him focused on ensuring he didn't run into (Y/N) too many times.

"'M sure you'll be fine, love. Don't worry about anyone else," he murmured, his voice low as he gestured vaguely around them to the other patrons, "Do whatever y'want, I'll be here to take care of y'anyway." He ended his words with a softened smile, hoping she would heed his advice and do whatever made her happy for the night.

After earning a bashful nod from her, Harry dropped his eyes to the menu in his hands. He quickly skimmed over the options, the menu familiar from the several times he had attended business dinners at the venue.

He allowed his gaze to travel from the menu to slyly glance at the girl across from him through the vignette of his lashes, the dinner lighting creating a divine glow around her form. The pearly headband holding her hair back created a small bump of volume with the accessory emulating a crown on the top of her head. Her fingers tenderly toyed with the ends of her hair, swaying the strands and curling them around her fingertip before allowing them to fall against her collarbones. He delicately traced her features with his eyes, catching the small gape in her glossy lips and the way her gaze darted across the shining pages of the menu in front of her.

"What's looking good, love?" Harry asked, referring to the dinner selection laid out in front of her.

She looked up at him with indecision painted over her features. "I'm not sure," she said, a pinch in her brow appearing as she kept her voice hush, "It's all really expensive, H."

Now it was his turn to furrow his brow, genuinely confused over why she would be worried about the price. "Don't worry about that, okay? I don't mind paying for whatever y'want. I jus' want y'to enjoy this."

Her eyes rounded out at the sound of his words, brows relaxing and going downturned as she gazed at him. "You're paying for me?"

"Of course, (Y/N). So don't worry about any of that, okay? Jus' pick whatever sounds good and I'll take care of the rest." Harry had to hold back a scoff at the idea that he would be anything less than a gentleman and make her pay for her own dinner. He had invited her in the first place, of course he was in charge of paying. He couldn't help but wonder how many other shitty, Andrew-level dates she had been on that had treated her so flagrantly.

She straightened up in her chair, leaning over the table while sliding her menu over to Harry's side. "Th-This sounds good, however you pronounce it," she mumbled, pointing at a pasta dish labeled with Verdi e Bianchi in a delicate curving font. She looked to him for approval, as if asking if her choice was up to par.

"Sounds really good," Harry smiled, hoping she would relax now that she had his approval, though she didn't need it in the first place. Harry pointed at his own choice for the night, (Y/N)'s eyes following his black painted nail as he stopped at Scampi Pomodora e Manta. "I think 'm gonna get that, what do you think?"

She nodded happily while reading the description, body language visibly relaxing. "That looks really good! You're gonna make me change my mind if I think about it too long," she laughed, much more settled than she had been since sitting down. Harry didn't realize how much he had missed her airy giggles and lax smiles until she had become stiff with her nerves.

Just then, Tara returned with the crystalline bottle of rosé in her hand and a bright smile on her face. "Sorry about that wait, are you ready to order?"

Harry nodded his head, answering with a polite yes, please for the both of them while (Y/N) sat back in her seat with her menu flat in front of her. Tara, of course, started with (Y/N) again. She flicked her gaze to the menu in front of her, skimming quickly in an effort to find the ravioli dish she had showed to Harry, before looking to him with a pleading look through her panicked gaze.

Harry straightened in his seat, grabbing his own copy of the menu. "She'll have the Verdi e Bianchi, please," he started, Tara quickly turning to face him before nodding her head and writing down the order, "And I'll have the Scampi Pomodora e Manta. Thank you."

He collected both of the menus and handed them off to Tara before she made her rounds attending to each of her tables. He shifted his gaze to (Y/N), finding her already looking at him with her lips set in a tender smile.

"That alright?" he asked, "Y'still wanted that?"

She quickly nodded her head. "Yeah, thank you for ordering for me. I just get nervous when it's my turn for some reason, especially since I didn't know how to say that one." She shot him a shy smile as she finished, her fingers absently trailing over a bundle of embroidered flowers along the neckline of her dress.

Harry did remember the few times they had all gone out for dinner as a group, (Y/N) always wanting to go last, assuming that by the time it time for her request, everyone was too busy interacting with one another to pay any attention. He hadn't thought it was because of something cute like that fact she didn't want everyone to hear in case she had messed up her order on accident.

Harry gently shook his head with his gaze on the table, a small smile on his face. "S'cute," he mumbled to himself, basically mouthing the words with how quiet he kept his voice.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, perking up in her seat with her lashes fluttering as she gazed at him.

"Nothing, love," he brushed off, reaching for the wine Tara left chilling in an ice bucket stationed table side, "Want to try some? Supposed to have 'notes of peach', the bottle says." He nodded to the crystal in his hand as he carefully uncorked the pink tinged glass with the opener left beside the ice.

He saw the way she thought about it for a second, pursing her lips before her gaze landed on the bottle in his hand. She gently nodded her head, a smile blooming across her features as her eyes brightened and matched his own gaze.

He happily complied, pouring her glass first. He stopped just barely halfway filling the bowl, "That good?"

She nodded her head, the tendrils of her hair that escaped from her headband and framed her face bounced alone with her. Harry kept an eye on her as poured his own glass, observing the way she delicately pinched the stem of her cup. He matched her motions, much less hesitant than she, sipping the wine and letting the bubbled peach notes slide over his tongue. She brought the glass to her lips, the spotless crystalline of the bowl making it easy for Harry to catch the way the full of her mouth cushioned the edge of the glass as the pink wine waved towards her.

(Y/N) was quick to pull that glass from her lips after the first sip, her shoulders stiffening and face screwed up in distaste. "I thought you said it was supposed to taste like peach," she accused, her eyes wide under her cinched brow.

Harry's smile seemed to be permanent at this point as he gazed at her with what he was sure was adoring eyes. "Y'don't taste the peach? I thought it was pretty obvious," he teased, figuring she was a bigger fan of the mixed, fruity cocktails she usually drank and not the fermented wine he was sipping from.

"Its sour," she mumbled, dropping her gaze to look accusingly at the glass still held in her hand.

"I can order y'something else if y'want?" he offered, settling his glass down as he tried to recall what the raspberry and sage cocktail was nicknamed on the menu.

She was quick to shake her head in response, "No, no its okay! I just need to get used to it, that's all. I usually drink super cheap, sweet vodka in a can, obviously." She finished with a laugh, bringing the wine to her lips to try another sip despite the way she clenched her eyes shut at the taste.

She caught his gaze over the rim of her glass resting on the full of her bottom lip. He watched on as her lips curved into a sweet smile. He felt his own gaze drop as his eyes scanned over her face, taking each small detail under the dinner lighting.

"What?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side just a bit.

For a split second, Harry pictured himself reaching across the table and fitting his hand around the back of her neck and pulling (Y/N) in for a kiss. He wanted to know if her lips felt just as plush as they looked, what flavor her lip gloss held, and how tangled their lashes would be when he got close enough. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but thats not what friends do; especially not friends who are in different stages of their lives with years between.

"'S nothing," he mumbled, shaking his head as he straightened in his seat and adjusted his jacket over the broad of his shoulders.

Just then, Tara returned with a pair of pristine white plates in her hands and her perfect smile on her face. She started with (Y/N), setting the plate of her ravioli in front of her before reaching over and tending to Harry. She did the usual spiel of asking for cracked pepper or cheese grated atop their dishes. He declined the pepper, but (Y/N) shot him a look when the cheese was offered.

"She would like some, please," he smiled, nodding to (Y/N). She shot him a smile, clearly pleased with the way she picked up in her signal.

Tara quickly rounded the table, the fancy crank grater in her hand as she recited to (Y/N) to just say when! Harry kept his eyes glued on her face, waiting for the look she would surely give him when she'd had her fill.

"That's good, thank you," Harry interrupted when (Y/N) glanced at him, her smile turning grateful at his words.

Tara politely nodded her head, standing off to the side of the table. She gave a practiced speech, asking if there was anything else that the couple needed before leaving with a promise to check on them in a few moments.

Once alone, (Y/N) trailed her gaze from the food in front of her to the man sitting across from her. "Thank you again, Harry. This has been the best date I've ever been on already."

He couldn't help but feel breath of pride puff up his chest. He nonchalantly lifted his shoulder in a half shrug with a lopsided smile on his face. "Still have the rest of the night left, sweetheart, don't speak too soon."

She rolled her eyes with her softened smile stuck on her features. She looked down at the food in front of her, absently grabbing her fork and sectioning off a bite of ravioli before speaking, "It's gonna be amazing no matter what, because I'm with you."

She spoke so simply, as if that was the answer Harry should have been expecting from the start. But, that wasn't at all something he thought would ever leave her lips. He expected a sentiment like that to come from him and the endless pining he held over her, not for her to speak them so surely and cause his heart to race and drop at the same time. Race because it fulfilled a tiny part of him that allowed him to pretend this was a real date, and drop since the rest of him knew this whole night was nothing more than a friendly distraction and held nothing more than platonic affection.

Harry was sure his cheeks were flushed a cherried hue at her words, opting to distract himself by twirling his noodles around his fork and popping the bite into his mouth. They were quiet as they began to eat, Harry running her words through his mind over and over, trying his best to untwist them from his own slew of affectionate thoughts. Every time he would flick his gaze to her, he swore he saw her look away just before he could meet her eyes.

That is until he caught her. He found her gaze locked across the table—at his food.

Her own plate was halfway finished, the cheese from the raviolis oozing into the marinara sauce around them though she didn't pay it any attention. A small smile tugged at Harry lips, recalling the way she almost switched her order to match his, his brows raised as he looked to her.

"Wanna try some?" he offered, already twirling a bite of noodles around the prongs of the fork and picking up a small cut of shrimp.

She looked to him with a bashful look on her face, eyes rounded out and cheeks soft. "Can I?" she laughed, "Sorry, it just looks really good. You can try mine if you want!"

"'S okay, love, I don't mind." He offered her his fork, intending to pass the utensil off to her.

Instead, he watched as she leaned over the table, tossing her hair over her shoulders to keep it out of the way. The glow of the candlelit center piece wafted upward to dance over her features, bathing her skin in a soft warmth. She delicately placed her fingers on his wrist, just a brush of a touch against his arm as she took the bite directly off the fork with her lips around the utensil. She drew back as she chewed, her eyes going wide before she swallowed and looked to Harry with a beaming smile on her face.

"That's so good!" she bubbled, "We're gonna have to come back and I want to get that next time!"

She wanted there to be a next time.

A smile spread across his features at the idea. "Definitely."

—————

"What's mascara-pone?"

Harry smiled at (Y/N)'s pronunciation, sliding her the other spoon around the strawberry crostata he order for them to share for desert. "'S a kind of sweet cheese, like cream cheese but—in m'opinion—much better," Harry explained, cutting into the crust and taking the first bite of the tart.

"Oh," she answered simply, following suit and scooping up her own bite.

They were both leaning closer to one another over the table, meeting in the middle with their shared plate. The chatter of the other patrons had grown significantly quieter over the course of the meal, making it that much easier for Harry to lose himself in the idea that it was just the two of them out that night.

He had known he was fairly gone for (Y/N), but the whole night had forcibly pulled each pining thought and affectionate scenario from the corner he had shoved them. It felt like a movie to him, a cheesy romcom where he cast himself as the overworked business man and (Y/N) as the bright, kind and beautiful heroine that would color the movie and turn Harry into the lovestruck fool he knew he could play perfectly. He never wanted the night to end, even as he watched their dessert become whittled down to a single bite with a sliced strawberry dotted on the top.

"Y'have the last bite," Harry offered, using his spoon to push it towards (Y/N) who absently licked away a swipe of strawberry sauce on the full of her bottom lip.

"Are you sure?" she asked, eyes bright.

"Positive." Harry lent back in his chair, letting (Y/N) finish off the dessert as he plucked the leather book Tara had dropped at the table a few moments prior.

He slipped his card inside, and fixed his gaze back on (Y/N). Thanks to the distraction of the pout of (Y/N)'s lips, he was only absently aware of Tara ghosting by to pick up the bill with a promise to be right back!

"Is it stupid that I don't want to go home, yet?" (Y/N) questioned, sitting back in her own seat with her fingers absently tracing along the neckline of her dress.

"'S not stupid at all," he smile, shaking his head before becoming momentarily distracted as Tara returned with their processed bill and a wish for them to have a nice rest of their night. "'M not ready to end the night either, if 'm being honest," he continued, signing the receipt and adjusting his jacket before standing up, "Was thinking I could take y'to this sculpture park that's not too far a walk from here. 'S really pretty at night and I think you'd like it. Only if y'want to, though."

He rounded the table and pulled (Y/N)'s own chair out, offering her his hand after she adjusted her dress and grabbed the small yellow bag she had brought along. "I would love to," she agreed, wrapping her hand in his and shooting him a soft smile.

Harry led them out of the restaurant, politely waving and wishing a goodnight to the staff gathered at the hostess stand before holding the door open for (Y/N) to step into the star-filled night. His gaze kept flicking from their joined hands to the sidewalk in front of them, careful about the steps he took as he was aware of the heels on her feet. He felt a shudder go through his chest despite the warmth her hand provided in his, especially after she adjusted her hold to slip her fingers between his and hug their palms together.

She drew his attention to her face when she looked to him with the starlight reflected in her eyes and the moonglow dusting over her features. "Lead the way."

—————

"What's that supposed to be?"

(Y/N) posed the question as they stood in front of a sculpture that held neither rhyme or reason. The structure boasted swirling shapes and abstract forms somewhat resembling an elephant but if Harry tilted his head the other way, he could see what looked like it could be a constellation of stars.

"'M not sure," Harry mused, a pinch in his brow as he read the small plaque that titled the piece as Farmer's Market.

"At least the lights around it look pretty," (Y/N) added, her gaze tracing the rope of lights set up around the base of the sculpture.

Harry's lips quirked into a smile as he gazed down at her. "Yeah, very pretty."

"What do you think the next one's gonna be called?" (Y/N) asked, squeezing his hand with their fingers still laced together before moving towards the next sculpture.

"Mm," Harry hummed, swinging their joined hands between them, as he continued the game (Y/N) had started a couple pieces back. "Thinks its gonna have somethin' to do with bread."

"Bread?" (Y/N) repeated, looking up at him with a confused pinch in her brow and kink in her lips.

"Mhm," he confirmed, looking towards the sculpture that looked to have nothing to do with bread.

(Y/N) took an awkward step beside him, her shoulder bumping his arm as a hiss escaped her lips. "Sorry," she apologized, slowing beside him and letting go of his hand in favor of reaching toward her heel covered foot.

"What's wrong? Are y'okay?" His voice held a current of concern, unsure of where to start though he knew he wanted to help her.

"I'm okay, my feet just hurt from my shoes and I stepped wrong," she stood straight as she spoke, carefully balancing her weight off her seemingly injured foot. "I've only worn these a couple times, and I forget every time how much they hurt." She breathed a laugh after her words reaching for Harry's hand to resume their twined position.

Harry stood still in his spot, unwilling to go any farther if she was in pain. "Do y'want to sit down for a minute?" he offered, already tugging her towards a plain white bench across from the so-called bread sculpture.

"Could we?" She shot him a relieved look and followed after his pulls on delicate steps of her feet.

He muttered an of course! to her as he pulled off his blazer and folded it before laying it on the seat of the bench, protecting her white dress from anything lingering on the surface. She thanked him before sitting on he homemade cot, her shoulders dropping from relief.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, an apologetic smile on his face as he looked to her, "Didn't even think about that when I asked if we could walk around."

"It's okay," she beamed folding one of her legs under her before facing Harry, "I just need to sit down for a little, then I'll be okay."

"Do y'want my shoes? I don't think they'll fit well, but they'll work," he offered half joking. He knew if she had actually taken him up on it he would have no qualms about finishing the night barefoot.

She laughed at his offering, already brushing it off with a shake of her head. "I'll be okay, but thank you, H. You're very sweet."

A lopsided smile tugged at his features, his gaze falling to his fingers where he twisted his rings around the digits. A slew of tender reciprocations came to mind, compliments he would hope would heat her cheeks and cause her eyes to go soft like he's daydreamed about since Charlotte's party. But, he kept quiet, heady reminders of the fact this was just a night between friends and nothing more running through his head.

Beside him, he saw (Y/N) perk up with a petite gasp leaving her lips. A bright smile colored her features as she gazed at her phone in front of her. "The lights look so pretty like this! Would you want to take a picture with me?" She leaned closer to him, her own shoulder pressed against his, showing him her screen with the front camera on.

She was right, the stream of lights decorating each sculpture and strung through the trees cast a pearlescent glow upon their faces. Shades of pink and purple with pops of a baby blue shimmered across (Y/N)'s face, where his eyes were fixed on her phone screen.

Harry was already slinging his arm over her shoulder when he responded with a smile on his face. "'Course. Jus' promise to send it to me." He tugged her closer to him with his arm around her, their thighs touching as they drew nearer.

She bubbled off a vow to text the picture to him later before positioning her phone in front of them with the camera capturing their faces. (Y/N) posed with a soft smile on her features, resting her cheek on this shoulder. Harry hoped she couldn't hear the way his heart skipped a beat at the contact as she tapped the screen and caught the moment.

She was quick to pull up the photo, adjusting her posture and removing her cheek from his shoulder. Harry's arm reluctantly dropped from around her, her warmth missing from his skin. She smiled at the image on her phone before turning it towards him.

"What do you think?" she bubbled.

Harry barely passed a glance over himself, only aware of the softened gaze he held before he fixed his attention on (Y/N)'s half of the screen. The lighting glazed over her features to cast an angelic glow across the planes of her face, highlighting the points of her features in pasteled hues. He really hoped she would remember to send it to him.

"'S perfect" he breathed, gazing at her over the edge her phone.

She quickly nodded her head in agreement, the same bright smile stuck on her features. "Would it be okay if I posted this later? On my instagram? I just really like it."

A breath of satisfaction swept through his chest, almost giddy at the thought that she wanted to show off their date, even if it was only a friendly night together.

"Anything y'want."

—————

Harry ended the night pulling up to (Y/N)'s apartment building, reluctantly putting his car in park. He wasn't sure when he would see her again, and that introduced a cloudy feeling to his chest, muggy and thick. He dreaded the uncertainty of when he would be able to allow himself to be with her like this again, or if that time would come again at all.

(Y/N) broke him from his thoughts, placing a hand on his arm from the passenger seat. She delicately wrapped her fingers around his forearm, the skin bare from rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and forgoing his jacket that now laid in the backseat. "Thank you, again, for tonight. This is the best date I've ever been on, Harry."

She looked to him with a tender gaze, her irises melted into silken pools of starlight that he swore only existed in fairytales.

"Y'promise?" he joked, watching as a smile bloomed across her lips at his teasing.

"I promise," she affirmed, squeezing his arm one more time before reaching towards the doorhandle. "I'll see you again soon, right?"

Though Harry couldn't be sure when soon was, he knew he wouldn't be able to last without seeing her for very long. "Of course. Whenever y'need me, love, I'll be there."

She dropped her gaze to the small yellow bag that laid in her lap, her softened lips still quirked in that shy smile he'd had the privilege of detailing throughout the night. She met his own eyes after a moment, looking to him expectantly. "Walk me up?"

Harry didn't even hesitate before he agreed, already stepping out of the driver's side door. He rushed around the front of the car, just barely beating (Y/N) before she opened the door and stepped out.

"Gotta wait for me. Still on our date, right," he teasingly chastised, offering her his hand just as he had all night long. He wanted to get one last moment with her fingers laced between his, hoping the walk up to her apartment was long enough that he could memorize the feeling.

The ascent up the stairs was a moment of dejavu, Harry felt. The steps familiar in the sense that his heart was running a racetrack through his chest, but this time he was anchored to the moment with more than a bouquet of flowers as a buoy. (Y/N)'s hand in his and the matching pacing of her heel-clad steps kept him grounded in the fact he was still with her, no matter if the moments with that comfort was waning.

"I'll be looking forward to that invitation to go to that restaurant again," (Y/N) mused, leaning against her front door as Harry stopped in front of her.

He kept his hands deep in his pockets, refraining from wrapping them around her waist and keeping her warm against his chest. "Y'let me know when you're free, and I'll set up the reservations."

A beat of silence passed between them, as (Y/N) lowered her gaze towards the floor with her fingers nervously picking at the satin tie around her waist. "We're still on our date, right?"

A smile poked at Harry's cheeks, "Yeah, I'd sa—"

(Y/N) cut him off by taking a bold step in his direction and placing her hands on her chest. She leaned up as far as she could with the help of her heels before placing a sweet kiss on his cheek (more like his jaw, but she reached as far as she could). Harry was hyperaware of how close she was to his lips, the leftover gloss on her mouth leaving a slight pink kiss mark printed on his skin.

"Goodnight, Harry," she mumbled after pulling away, glancing at him from over her shoulder as she let herself in her apartment.

Harry was left with a whiff of her scent as she closed the door behind her, her kiss sitting on his cheek with a blushing warmth radiating from the spot. He hadn't even realized he had fluttered his eyes closed until he blinked them open to find himself still in the spot she left him in.

He practically floated down to his car, forgetting each step he took as soon as he made it. The drive home was a matching blur, each turn and brake tinted with rose petals. It wasn't until he had just got home and had made it to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed (and stare at the kiss mark against his skin), that he was pulled out of his stupor by the buzz of his phone.

He reached for the device after unbuttoning his shirt, his chest bare as he swiped on the notification. His screen brightened with a familiar photo posted on Instagram, the notification coming from the tag that hovering above a perfect ringlet in his hair.

The photo taken in the sculpture park now held a caption at the bottom.

best date with my best friend. thank u, h. 🌼

He was gonna need to set up that next reservation soon.

—————

prosecco is a sparkling wine, vibrant and sweet, boasting notes of crisp apple and honeysuckle. peach notes linger long after finished.

ahhh!!! this is the series that was supposed to be a one shot!! I started writing this almost a year ago and pictured it finishing off at 10k and now its just gotten too long w too much story to fit in one thing but !!!! I really hope u all like it and thank u so much for reading!! you can find the completed piece with all following parts already up on my patreon or I will be posting every Friday!! thank u for reading, sorry for any mistakes and if u have any ideas or anything please send them in!!!!

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