#not pictured but rose would be a good fit for welfare if the side branch had it

[klobibin]

wonderlab doodles, and by that i mean mostly joe and shasha with some taii and an extra helping of tilted JUSTICE

[mysweetestcreature]

Meus Amor (Hogwarts!Harry) Part V

(Banner by the lovely @pretty-hazza)

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Series Masterlist

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The moment her feet land on the hardwood floor of the unfamiliar flat that smells vaguely of a mixture of disinfectant and eucalyptus, there’s a feeling of queasiness starting in the pit of Y/n’s belly. Her awkward footing leaves her to stumble out of balance until she ends up with her back against the wall, breathing heavily as she tries to tie the last five minutes together into something she can only hope to understand. Her head is spinning, and every possible worst-case scenario reels in her head and flashes before her eyes like an untimely vision of bereavement. There are so many questions she has, but the fears that have settled within her are almost unbearable. Y/n feels the hot tears burn behind her irises as she tries hard to blink them away. Where was Harry? Why hadn’t he come with them after the attack? The image she remembers before getting lost in the haze of apparition was the wanton black smoke that surrounded his body like a veil of smooth silk. 

“You’ll be safe here, don’t worry.” Her eyes slowly rise from staring at the spaces between the floorboards to the girl who had brought her here. Gemma offers her a small smile and reaches forwards to rub up and down her arm as if it would make the uneasiness in Y/n’s chest feel any less constrictive. She doesn’t dare move but allows her head to pan around the room and study each detail as though she would be tested on it at a later time. There are a number of books stacked neatly by size on the mahogany coffee table in the middle of two white leather couches that face each other. In the corner right by the window is one of Gemma’s uniforms being repaired by an enchanted needle and thread beside a laundry basket of freshly washed clothes and sheets. Along the walls are pictures of the Styles family; their faces full of glee and fulfillment as they flash their blinding smiles to the photographer before succumbing to their fits of laughter.

“Make yourself at home!” Gemma exclaims as she quickly jogs and disappears into the hallway. “I’m just going to set up the guest room. It’s been ages since I’ve had company.” A small chuckle reaches Y/n’s ears, and she forces down the lump in her throat and wills herself to think calmer thoughts. Suddenly there’s a sharp pain in her lower abdomen that’s like being struck with thousands of thorns from the inside. She slides down the wall and gasps for breath and hunches forward and wraps her arms around her stomach as the hostile burning agitates her entire being.

“It-it hurts,” she chokes out. Gemma is at her side in an instant, talking her through breathing exercises and rubbing her back as soothingly as possible. This is worse than having been struck with the Cruciatus curse, much worse. “I... I need Harry. P-Please I need Harry,” She starts sobbing on the floor and calling out her boyfriend’s name, praying to Merlin that he’ll appear in front of her and make this unwelcomed feeling go away like he always does with just the touch of his hand to her cheek.

“Honey, I need you to take deep breaths, alright? In through your nose...that’s it. Just keep doing that. You’ll be okay,” Gemma coaches. She frantically grabs her wand from her back pocket and mutters the summoning charm. A clear bottle with vibrant purple liquid comes hurdling through the air and lands perfectly in Gemma’s hand. She unplugs the cork––the loud popping noise enough to take Y/n’s mind off the throbbing for a split second––and holds it up to Y/n’s mouth. “Drink this.” Y/n looks at her through the tears rimmed around her eyes, her shaking hand grasping the neck of the glass and guiding the sparkling liquid to her lips. 

It washes down her throat like running water, and she can feel it settle in her gut and boil like piping lava. The potion leaves an aftertaste on her tongue, like sparkling grape juice served within a minute before the start of a new year. Starting from ten, she counts backwards with her eyes shut tight as the feeling of anguish diminishes to nothing more than an afterthought. She peels her lids apart and looks up at Gemma, the healer’s stare narrowed in on her stomach as her lips wrap expertly around words that Y/n has never come across before with the tip of her wand aimed directly to her skin. 

A luminous white band emits from the wand and wraps around her and tickles her midsection, and her tummy starts to flutter lightly before a calming warmth sinks in and the rest of her nerves seem to relax into the feeling. That’s all she can make out before the room fades to black.

***

Harry chases the unknown assailant miles above the ground and far away from the initial attack. All he can see is red and he’s almost certain that there’s actual steam pushing out from his ears. How could he have been so negligent? He hadn’t noticed a fucking death eater tailing them around Diagon Alley. It’s not that he expects these assholes to play fair, but the welfare of his family had been his only plea when it came down to being plagued with the skull and serpent on his arm. 

Oh gods, his heart beats erratically as the worry sets in. The look on Y/n’s face as he had backed away from her and urged her into his sister’s hold is all he can see with the force of the wind stinging his eyes. She looked so scared and he just wishes he could be there to hold her and whisper his pledge of protection from all the evil that his world has brought upon them. All he can hope for right now is that his girl and their baby are in good health because he swears on Salazar’s name that he won’t be able to suppress this impulsive darkness he feels has grown within him and prickles in his fingertips in just a matter of minutes. But he’ll try to fight it as long as he can, he needs to be the man that Y/n deserves. It’s proving difficult, however, as he already feels the boiling of his blood scorch his veins when a malicious smirk is sent his way in the most taunting manner. With his wand aimed on the shadowy figure in front of him, he yells out a curse that petrifies the death eater’s body and sends him plummeting to the ground in the endless landscape of green flora found on the outskirts of the city. 

He follows behind closely and descends in the relative area where the other man had fallen. There, he finds the body frigid as it lays on the dirt completely powerless. Harry steps closer to him, his fists tight and nails digging deep crescents into his palms, ready to break this guy’s jaw if presented the opportunity. 

“I ought to curse your life away for that stunt you pulled,” he begins, sliding the wand out of the man’s front pocket and breaks it like a scanty twig on his bended knee. “But I won’t become like you lot. So just listen to my words carefully. My girl stays out of this. Or else that wand won’t be the last thing I snap.” His voice carries a tone so low and frightening that for a second, he can barely recognize it as belonging to him. He picks the death eater up by the collar, his toes barely scraping against the pebbles on the ground. Harry mumbles the counter curse under his breath, and he watches as the man desperately gasps for air. 

“Yaxley told me you’d be difficult,” the death eater chuckles in a way that makes Harry’s teeth clench, “but he didn’t tell me that you’d break my wand. Now that was just was uncalled for.” He looks with false sadness down at broken piece of wood, only to be replaced with another one of his smirks. “The name’s Zayn by the way. Big fan.” 

“I don’t care what your name is,” Harry says harshly, then throws...Zayn to the ground with a loud thump. He turns around and presses the heel of his palms to his eyes and lets out an infuriated growl. “Just tell me what the fuck he wants now.” 

How many more lives am I meant to destroy?

The guilt from having been involved in the assassination of Professor Albus Dumbledore still makes him nauseous, even though the elderly man had tried to discourage him from blaming himself. (And the entire situation still troubles Harry because Dumbledore had known about the attempt on his life, yet he still allowed for everything to unfold.) He traces the metal band on his finger and prays that regardless of what happens next, she’ll still love him because he’s sure that he can’t live without her.

Zayn lifts himself up and makes little attempt to dust the dirt from his fitted trousers before taking a step closer to Harry. His deep brown eyes penetrating Harry’s green ones in an intense lock that could make an entire population turn to stone. Now that he’s had a good look at him, something about the dark-haired man in front of him looks vaguely familiar.

“Voldemort.”

All Harry can do is lift an unamused eyebrow as he looks to the left and right of them. He’s met with nothing but trees that stretch miles and miles in both directions and the chirping of birds in the branches. Is something meant to happen? 

A pop suddenly sounds from behind him, his body stiffens up as he turns his head to the side where he sees a silhouette stretching towards him the light of the setting sun. He lets out defeated sigh before he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders before the forest vanishes in front of him. 

***

Malfoy Manor is dark. Gloomy and malevolent, depending on who it you’re asking. Its Victorian style architecture offers the impression that maybe a king or someone of high nobility must preside somewhere within the mountain-high exterior. Harry’s been inside at least a dozen––maybe even more––times, mostly in his earlier years during the holidays for the Malfoy’s famous New Year’s Eve parties where he and Niall would sneak a bottle of fire whiskey and drink it in Narcissa’s prized rose garden. 

Yet the last time he had been here had probably been the most memorable, and not for the enjoyment of getting pissed off his arse and trying to avoid getting stuck under the mistletoe with Pansy or Daphne. The last time Harry had been here, it was during his initiation that has left him with the mark even uglier than a scar that inevitably signed his life away.

His left arm tingles the closer he walks to the grand dining room, and when he looks down, he can see the serpent slithering about on his skin. Two other death eaters are on either side of him as though blocking him in in the chance that he’ll flee. Both are dressed in long black robes and shiny ebony shoes with heels that sound with each one of their heavy steps. Zayn walks in front, guiding them deeper into the core of the manor. It’s funny though, when he thinks deeply about this. Not to say that he finds the entire thing humorous––his girlfriend and sister were almost harmed by flying shards glass for crying out loud––but one must laugh when considering the dramatics of the day. 

“I suppose this isn’t an invitation for tea,” Harry snorts, unable to hide his mild amusement.

Zayn makes a noise, as if fighting off a laugh. “Can’t say it is, but maybe once this is all over the Dark Lord will buy us all a pint, yeah?” He looks over his shoulder and wriggles his eyebrows in a playful manner. 

A voice clears itself as they reach the doors where the meeting is to take place. They’re greeted with cold steel grey eyes, lips held in a thin line, and the once slicked back platinum blonde hair is as disheveled as a madman’s thoughts. It’s only been a few months since Harry’s last seen him, but it’s as though Draco has aged years before his time

There’s a look Draco gives him, one that injects an unsettling feeling into the back of his neck. He pushes down on the doorknob behind him and walks backwards to open it up all the way. They file into the room one by one, and Harry stops for just a second as he and Draco’s eyes meet as he passes him. It’s just long enough for him to catch a look of bitter remorse, one to only mirror his own. 

Harry enters to find a long decadent table, each chair seating a death eater, most of whom he’s encountered at least once in the past. At the very head of the table is the Dark Lord, his sharp yellow teeth on full display as he welcomes the newly arrived to the meeting. 

“Harry, my boy! So glad you could join us this evening,” he gushes, then signals to the empty seat two down to his right next to Snape. Harry swallows hard but wills himself over to his assigned spot. Snape gives him a sideways glance as he sits down uncomfortably, and from a few places over he can hear Lucius Malfoy gasp in appalment and mutter something to his wife. This is odd, even given his circumstances. To be seated so close to the Dark Lord signifies an authority over those that sit below him. 

“My Lord, if you will,” Lucius speaks up. “I think it is inappropriate for the Styles boy to be seated so far up above esteemed death eaters,” he explains hurriedly. “He’s involved with the daughter of an auror.”

“Now, now, Lucius. We mustn’t judge Harry for being young, hmm?” Voldemort responds, pushing out of his chair and walking around the right. His hand traces the back frames of each of the seats until he stops at Lucius’. “And besides, Severus has told me how vital he had been to the mastery of the connection between cabinets, one that Draco couldn’t achieve on his own.” The last part is tutted out with a deceitful tone, and it ultimately shuts the older Malfoy up. “Now, that we’ve cleared that up,” Voldemort begins, a dark laugh leaving the pit of his throat, “I believe it’s time we-”

The doors sound loudly against the walls, and all seated heads crane their necks towards the wide-open threshold. At first, Voldemort looks peeved. No one in their sane mind would dare interrupt the Dark Lord mid-sentence. However, the moment a man hooded with a burnt green cloak steps out of the shadows, Voldemort’s rotting teeth spread wide in a pleased grin.

Harry’s eyes narrow into the darkened hallway that encompasses the hooded figure. His heartrate quickens as the soles of his shoes heavily pound against the polished floor like mini earthquakes. His hands reach up and grasp his hood, the material scrunching between his fingers as he flips it back to reveal a tired face with deep wrinkles settled in the once youthful skin. 

“No...” Harry whispers disbelievingly to himself, his body being drained of all its color as he takes time to process the image of his father. 

*** They all stand and bow as the Dark Lords makes his grand exit, Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius following closely behind him like a swarm of bees. The room quickly fills up with secluded conversations all discussing the same topic. Harry keeps to himself, as the variation of sneers and boastful remarks all mesh together as they enter through his ears. His jaw muscle aches under the severe clenching of his back molars. 

Instantly does he feel the regret simmer through him. He’d known that the previous mission would not be his last, but he never thought he’d ever have to go into full-blown combat against the DA. War means only one thing, and he vowed that he’d never do it again.  

From the corner of his eye, he can see someone approaching him. He pulls his hand into a tight fist by his side before coming face to face with him. His father looks at him, stopping just a few feet from where he stands. Getting a closer look, Harry is able to briefly study the dullness in his irises and the way his features pull downwards in a seemingly permanent frown. Yet, the man has the audacity to look him straight in the eyes and smile as though he hadn’t ruined his life. 

“Son,” his father breathes as though he had been holding it in for hours, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for an awkward embrace. Harry remains frozen, the foreign feeling burning through his clothes and leaving his skin to swelter. He blinks a few times, hoping to bite back the feelings that have just unearthed after months of suppression. 

He backs away, shaking his head. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” His voice is hard. Desmond looks at him incredulously, and it stirs something within Harry. “What? You thought you could just waltz back into our lives like nothing in the past year happened?” he says bitterly. He makes his way towards the exit, shooting is father a look before disappearing into the hallway.   “Harry don’t be so juvenile,” Des reprimands as he follows him out the door, but Harry just scoffs as he continues navigating through the maze of the manor. Him? Childish? It wasn’t him who abandoned his family in favor of someone made with every inch of vileness. 

Suddenly, he’s being forced up against the wall, and his head cracks the glass of a picture frame behind him. The tiredness on his father’s face is replaced with an authoritarian countenance, one that Harry had been exposed so many times before. If before this would’ve scared him, now is different. “I’m still your father, you will show me respect.” 

“Respect.” Harry repeats, shoving Des away into the opposite wall. “What part of you deserves that?” 

*** By the time he makes it to his sister’s flat, Harry’s mind has gone numb and there’s an ache in his back as if he had just fallen off his broom from more than a hundred feet above the ground. His shoulders slump forward as he falls onto one of the white leather couches, his head falling back with his eyes closed as he searches for some sort of relief. He covers his face with his hand, taking long breaths as he tries to calm himself down. The tips of his index finger and thumb settle in the inner corners of his eyes, then drag inwards to pinch at the bridge of his nose. 

“Hey.” He turns his head to see his sister leaning on her side against the wall. 

“Hey.”

Gemma slowly walks over and takes the cushion on his left. At first there’s a silence that surrounds them, with a cloud of unsaid words hanging above them as both stare mindlessly at the photos that adorn the wall across from them. “He’s back,” Harry finally says, a croak coming from deep within him. And as the words reach his ears, he immediately realizes the pain behind each syllable. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and his hands clasp together and knock against his forehead like a sign of prayer.

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Both remain tight-lipped for the proceeding minutes, but Harry can hear the faintest whimpers sounding from his sister’s throat. He regrets turning to her, the vision of the unsuccessfully suppressed tears glistening in the outer corners of her eyes is enough to break a part of him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her and bring her to cry on his shoulder as his chin rests atop her hair. His eyes close on their own accord as he listens to her weeps and allows for the emotion he had been holding in, to finally reach the surface.

“I hate him for what he’s done,” Gemma says into her hands. She straightens up and furiously wipes the tears from her cheeks. “He broke us. He broke Mum. I can never forgive him for that.” She stands up and paces back and forth in front of the sofa. Harry nods in agreement but lets his voice stay at rest. “I won’t,” his sister states firmly. Gemma sits back in an armchair to Harry’s left, bringing her knees up and hugging them close to her chest. 

She faces away from him, but he can still hear the continuation of her sorrows that creep into the air. This is far from what he’s used to when it comes to her. As children, she’d been the more understanding out of the two of them. No matter how many times her loved ones had failed her in the past, no matter the shortcomings that may have been, she would find it in her to grant forgiveness. However, seeing her put on such a cold front makes him realize that their family truly is wrecked beyond repair. 

Yes, he’s known this to be fact for quite some time now, but the grief that comes with it never fails to send an ache to spiral beneath his chest. 

***

The sight of her sleeping peacefully on the bed is enough to ease away the tensions in his body and whatever it is that had been constricting his lungs. He closes the door behind him, then makes his way over to her. The bed dips down where he sits, and he leans down to press a long chaste kiss to the side of her mouth as he takes in her sweet and comforting scent. His nerves find peace in having her so close to him again, and he thanks the gods that she escaped to the day completely unscathed. 

It’s then his attention turns to focus on her stomach. His palm gently presses on her clothed skin, and his thumb caresses the slightest swell that he isn’t certain is even there. Yet, he wonders if their baby can feel his touch from inside her sleeping mother. Can she sense his presence? Does she feel the immeasurable love he already has for her?

Y/n begins to fuss beneath him, a mumble of his name lingering on her lips as her eyes adjust to the sudden invasion of light on her pupils. As the blurriness vanishes, she gasps when she sees him beside her.

He smiles down at her, running the back of his finger down her cheek. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

“Oh my god,” she cries, immediately bringing him down and wrapping her arms around him, her hand cupping the back his neck and tangling in his soft brown curls. She hugs him closer to her, afraid that this may be all a dream and reality is just as painful as she had left it. 

He cradles her, content with the feeling of her in his arms after a day of hell. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into her skin. His lips linger on her neck as they continue with their embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffles softly as she kisses the side of his jaw over and over. “I-I was so scared.” He pulls away just enough to see the worry that paints over her features. Her eyes are glossed over like fragile glass and her nose dusted with a pink flush just at the tip. He runs his thumbs under her eyes and presses his lips to hers. She breathes him in, and the feeling of relief finally washes over her as his tongue swipes along her bottom lip. 

“Shh, I know,” he says, the words passing into her mouth as he maintains the kiss. 

They break apart moments later, and he leans his forehead against hers. His eyes fall lower on her body and his heart pounds with anxiousness when he finally decides that the voice in his head is right. He can’t run from this.

Not anymore. 

Not when he can lose the two most precious things in his life in just a span of a second.

He stares back at her, his mouth pulling down at the ends when he looks right into her eyes. “I need to tell you something.” His voice is shaky and breath uneven as he sits both of them up. 

She looks to him with a curious yet apprehensive expression. Her head tilts slightly. She notices the crease between his brows as he stares down to where his hands find hers to hold. It makes her nervous, and the frightening thoughts from earlier that day come fleeting through her mind once again. 

“I love you both so much.” He presses his mouth to the back of her hands, squeezing them gently. 

Both? She’s sure she had heard him clearly, despite his low and almost inaudible tone. “W-what?” she questions, pulling her hands from his and placing them over her chest as though to protect herself.

“Remember when I went to visit my mum a few weeks ago?” She nods slowly. He swallows hard and forces down whatever it is that’s lodged in his throat. “I found out that...” He puffs out a breath, and a hand rests itself on the curves of her waist, while the other reaches up to cup her cheek. She doesn’t pull away from him this time but doesn’t make the effort to fall into him either. He realizes this, and it gives him that final push to come out with it. “It’s not just the two of us anymore.” 

“I don’t understand.” Her eyebrows furrow as she searches his eyes for an explanation. She watches as his jaw clenches and his eyes falter. She follows them. “What are you trying to say?” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip until it’s pale pink––almost lifeless white shade, and her mouth runs dry the longer he takes his time to respond. 

There’s just no way he can phrase the words without wanting to curse himself and this entirely fucked up life he’s led them into. “Y/n,” he starts, “you’re...” His eyes squeeze shut, and he gathers all the courage he has left. “Pregnant.” The silence that falls between them is unnerving. She sits there with her body frigid, the color draining from her face and blood running cold in her veins. 

A deadpan expression encompasses her features. She stares at him as though he had two heads and had neon orange hair. 

She suddenly rises up from the bed and backs herself up against the wall. With her hands falling down to her belly, she thinks back to all the signs she’d come across these last couple of weeks. It’s then her fingers curl harshly around her shirt. The sound of her knuckles cracking in the dead atmosphere of the room alarms him. “I knew something was wrong.” She shakes her head, then raises her arms and digs her nails into her scalp and pulls on her hair. “I should’ve been able to tell.” 

Harry leaps to his feet and pulls her hands down by her wrists. “Love, no. We’d always used the charm, there’s no way we could’ve ever anticipated this.” Her eyes fall to her feet as she continues to shake her head. She feels pathetic where she stands, and it makes hate himself even more for doing this to her. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly. She stays limp, her arms hanging at her sides as she stares emptily over his shoulder.

He feels the heat of her tears on his shirt, and despite her lack of vocal presence, he can hear the sobs escalating within her. It makes him tighten his hold on her because doesn’t know what else to do but keep her close to him and let her that he’s there to for her. 

“Talk to me,” he pleads with her. “Tell what you’re thinking.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck and whispers to her. 

“How’d you know?” she asks meekly.

He sighs heavily. “We have a tapestry out back.” His lips form in a thin line when she lets out a quiet snivel. “I suppose my mum went to look at it at some point, and she––she saw her.” 

She lets his words sink in. Her mind does its best to make sense of it all, but it’s becoming harder and harder to grasp as time passes by them. She doesn’t know whether to be angry that he kept this from her for days, disappointed that she hadn’t sensed it herself, or dare she say excited because she’d always fantasized about the idea of motherhood. It’s all too much for her right now, too many of emotions fighting to prevail over the other, and she fears it’ll have her spiraling into something she can’t control. 

“We...” she forces out. Air collects in Harry’s lungs, but it still feels as though they could collapse. “We’re going to have a baby girl?” she wonders innocently. He allows the corners of his mouth to rise up in a small smile.

“Yeah.” He lets out a light chuckle that releases some of his nervousness. “We are.” Her arms wrap around him and unwinds slightly in his hold. 

“I’m scared,” she admits, mumbling into his shirt.

He nods his head numbly. “So am I.”

***

Dear Mum and Dad,

I know you’re probably worried beyond your wits––and who can blame you? The attack on Diagon Alley was something I never thought would ever happen to me, I guess because you guys have always taken such good care of me all these years. It was like a nightmare that I could only hope I would wake up from. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Please know that I am safe, though! I’m thankful that Harry was able to get us out of the ice cream parlour before the explosion. He’s taking good care of me, and you’ll be happy to know that there’s not a scratch on us...well except for this papercut I just got trying to write this letter!

Gemma, Harry’s sister, said that we can stay here for a few days until things calm down, and we can all regain our strength. I already miss you guys like crazy! This morning I woke up and forgot that I wasn’t at home and the memories of the day before suddenly appeared before my eyes, and all I really wanted to do was hug you both.

Which leads me into something that I need to tell you, but it’s also something I have to do in person. There’s no easy way to begin, especially considering that I myself am still trying to fully come to terms with it. Everything around us seems to be turning to black, but now I feel I have added inspiration to fight through it now; and I know you guys will understand why. 

Until then,

Y/n

She folds the paper up neatly, making sure that the corners are well-aligned before sliding it into an envelope. She walks over to the window where Artemis stands ready for her to tie the letter to her leg. 

“You can get this to Dad, won’t you, girl?” She smiles at the owl as she runs the back of her finger down its head and beak. Her white snowy feathers fluttering slightly as she moves pleasingly against her hand. Y/n takes a treat from her pocket and holds it for her to take, to which the owl greedily scoffs it down. “When you get back, I’ll tell Harry to get you a nice juicy mouse!” Artemis lets out an understanding hoot as she takes off from the window sill. Her wings expand, and Y/n can’t help but stare in awe as she glides through the sky. 

***

“I never got to thank you properly,” Harry says. He stands in the archway, a hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a cup freshly brewed coffee. Gemma looks up over the top edge of the Prophet. “For what?” she asks, placing the pile of papers down next to her plate of toast and jam. He takes the chair next to her, placing his mug down on the table and staring down into the hot liquid. He pokes his tongue to his cheek; the sides of porcelain being caressed by the pads of his thumb. 

“You know,” Harry shrugs meekly, lifting his doleful eyes to hers. “For taking care of my girls when I couldn’t be there.” 

His sister’s shoulders fall forward. The expression on her face showing nothing but thoughtfulness as she looks back at him with every bit love. “They’re my family now,” she replies, and gives him a side smile as she reaches over and covers his hand with hers. “I know you would’ve done the same had our situations been reversed.” She squeezes his hand once more, making sure to bestow in him an empathy before returning to her reading. 

They sit there at the breakfast table in a restful pattern. Harry continues to take long sips from his coffee, while Gemma is content with flipping through the pages of moving figures. It continues for some minutes, before he hears her click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 

He lifts an eyebrow as she folds the paper, and it levitates away to place itself neatly on the stack in the corner of the room. She places her elbows on the table, hands folded and tucked under her chin. She gives him roguish a side glance, her mouth open but without words. 

“What is it?” Harry finally asks.

“Are you going to ever tell her about...you know.”

Harry leans back into his chair, the creaking of its wood is the only thing to fill in the silence that falls between them. Despite staring down into his lap, he can still feel her eyes on him, burning holes into his skull and penetrating deep into his mind. He exhales deeply. “I’m afraid she’ll hate me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“Harry, I’m sure-”

“Gemma,” he cuts her off, running a hand through his hair. “I killed a man.” 

***

Y/n rubs a big circle into the blanket of steam on the bathroom mirror. She studies herself closely, as though expecting for something to be different in the way she looks. Although, she isn’t quite sure what kind of changes to look for. This is a whole new world that’s just opened up before her, and the thought of her and Harry’s child growing inside of her makes her feel an unattainable amount of love in her heart, even in this short amount of time. She’d always wanted to be a mum. Of course, she never expected it to be so soon, but something about it just settles well. 

Her eyes fall onto the reflection of her tummy, and a hand goes to cover it on its own account. “Hi, baby,” she whispers, smiling to herself as she strokes the towel gently with the utmost care. “So, it was you making all those funny things happen all along.” A giggle escapes her. “Already causing mischief like your daddy, aren’t you?” 

She wishes that her baby would do something now, anything to let her know that she can hear the sound of her voice. Harry said she’s just about a month along, so their baby doesn’t have a face on the tapestry just yet. It leaves her in full anticipation and eagerness to know what she’ll look like once she’s here. Part of her still feels guilty for not knowing she’d been in there all this time. Her mum told her that she’d known she was pregnant with her almost immediately, and that had been without the blatant obviousness of what she had been exposed to. 

She readjusts the towel around her chest and steps out into the hallway. The closer she gets to her room, the more she’s able to make out the voices coming from the distance. She stops in front of the bedroom door, and now she can decipher the words being said. 

“Harry, I’m sure-”

“Gemma, I killed a man.” 

It’s like her heart stops mid beat. The air around her becomes harder to breathe in, and she finds herself unable to move. Her breath catches in her throat, and the grip she has on the doorknob loosens until her hand slides off of it like butter. 

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t have a choice!” 

“But then why do I still see his face whenever I close my eyes?” 

The conversation comes to an abrupt end when she hears the legs of a chair slide against the floor boards in an awful screech. Her body catches up to her mind and unfreezes, and she can see his shadow coming into view. 

***

He pushes the door open to find her sitting on the bed, hair dripping beads of water down her back and disappearing in the gaps of her towel. Once again, it’s her presence that dilutes the negative energy coursing through his body. His perfect girl, the remedy for all the bad things to happen in his life. He walks towards her and sits down behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“You smell nice,” he mumbles into her shoulder, placing a kiss onto her skin. He fastens his hold on her, breathing out in contentment as he enjoys the feeling of her cooled skin against him. He twirls a particularly long thread between his fingers, amusing himself for just a moment. 

Y/n turns her head slightly. Her hand is shaking underneath the pillow in her lap, and she can only hope that he doesn’t sense anything off about how she barely expand her lungs to full capactiy in her frazzled state. He pokes his nose into her cheek as he trails his lips along her jaw. The feeling of the light stubble on his upper lip sends a shiver from the base of her neck and down her stiff spine.

“How are you feeling?” His husky voice startles her. He looks over her shoulder to where his hands come to rest on her stomach. 

She swallows hard on the lump in her throat. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks again, this time turning her in his lap to face him. Her eyes evade him, staring down at his shirt, and he notices the teeth marks embedded into her bottom lip. “Love?” 

Hesitantly, she raises her head to look at him. 

“Love, are you okay?” His face fills with worry as he searches her for an answer. “Is it the baby? Are you feeling pains again? Gemma told me you were having them. We can go to St. Mungo’s if there’s something wrong.” His tone is panicked as the questions and statements come out of him all at once. 

This makes Y/n shake her head, a frail tug of her lips as she cups his cheeks and smoothens out the crease between his eyebrows. “No,” she answers honestly. “I’m just feeling a bit tired.” She watches as his appearance becomes less troubled and the muscle in his jaw slackens a great deal. 

“You’re sure?” She nods, and he drops his forehead to rest on her shoulder. “I just don’t want anything happening to you two,” he admits. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.” 

She feels her chest loosen a bit. 

***

Flaming glass comes hurdling through the air, and the hair-raising screams of wizards and witches alike fill their ears in the aftermath of the explosion. She gets a glimpse of the scene from over Harry’s shoulder as it further unfolds. Her heart pounds like a drum beneath her chest, and her grip on Harry’s arm only intensifies when she looks up to see the almost hostile expression on his face. Her eyes dart to where his bulge at, and they land on the figure dressed head to toe in black attire. The man smirks in their direction.

Who is he? Why had he been following them all through the day? 

So many questions race through her mind as she stands almost paralyzed in the alleyway. 

Harry snaps his head back at her, his face instantly becoming less rigid as he stares into her eyes, but in a way that makes the back of them prickle with an unknowing fear. It’s the way his eyebrows just barely bunch together and how his chest quickly rises and falls as his hands around her hips loosen. “Get her out of here!” he suddenly yells to Gemma. 

“What? No! I’m not leaving without you!” She fights off Gemma’s hold on her and rushes back and attaches herself back onto him. She begs him not to do this. The last thing she wants to do is be away from him, especially in time like this. 

His hands cup her cheeks, and she holds on to his wrists as to keep him with her. “I’ll come find you, okay? But right now, I need you to go with Gemma.” His tone is desperate as the words come rushing out. She can see an equal amount of fear in his eyes before he pulls her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he tells her.

She shakes her head, her vision clouded with tears as Gemma pulls are away from him. Her stomach flips, and her knees feel as though they can’t support the weight of her anymore. He runs back onto the main street, despite her calling his name over and over. 

Gemma wraps her arms around her, and she can feel she digs for her wand in her jacket pocket. Just as their bodies disappear into the vortex of apparition, she takes one last look at Harry, but his body consumed by an all too familiar black veil. 

Y/n wakes up in cold sweat, her eyes opening abruptly, only to be met with plain white ceiling. She turns her head to her right where Harry lays asleep with his arm draped over her stomach. The rest of her body turns with her, and she brings a hand to move one of the brown curls away from his forehead. She scans her eyes over his face, wanting to memorize its features. Every mole, the crevices of his dimples, the thickness of his long lashes, and the way his nose wriggles whenever she grazes the tips of her fingers down his jaw. 

Her heart tells her nothing is wrong, that he’s still the same person she fell in love with back on the Hogwarts Express. But her head, her head and all the stupid signs she’s come to face tell her something is different. 

She shuts her eyes. “Please tell me I’m wrong,” she whispers pleadingly. Very carefully, she coordinates herself to get out of their shared bed. Just as her feet touch the floor, Harry start to shift, and ends up on his back. His left arm lies where her body had just been. 

She picks up her wand from the top of the end table, then slowly moves to point it to his bare skin. It feels like hot metal burning through her palm the longer she holds it in that position. “Please,” she whimpers one last time. Her lips form around the first syllable of the word as her hand continues to shake out of focus.

He’s not one of them, he just can’t be. She knows him, almost better than she knows herself. She sees the compassion in him, even when he doesn’t want to admit that he’s kinder than he intends to be because that’s who he is. He’s not like his father or any of those criminals that everyone wants so desperately to associate him with. 

But she’s also afraid. Her world is changing far too quickly, and she’s finding it harder and harder to keep up with the madness of it all. And more importantly, she loves him too much for it to go any other way. 

Her hand brushes through her hair as she drops her wand to her side. “I can’t do it.” The words are mouthed without a stretch from her vocal cords. She sniffles into the neck of her shirt as her hand moves to rest above her abdomen. That’s when she realizes that this is why she has to do it. Needs to. They’re already bringing a child into this world in the middle of a war far deadlier than its predecessor. She can’t afford surprises. Not when the price to pay is this. The tip of her wand hovers back over his forearm. 

“Aparecium.” *** He feels around the bed, searching for her body as his eyes garner the strength to open up to the light of a new day. The side next to him is cold, and he finally peels his lids apart to see the space next to him completely empty. He lets out a sigh and turns onto his back. 

“What’re you doing on the floor?” he asks when he spots her, chuckling lightly as he pulls the covers off. His feet are cold against the floor as he circulates around the bed and bends down in front of her. It’s then he gets a good look at her, and the smile on his face quickly melts away. 

Her eyes are rimmed red, and her lip begins to quiver as she lifts her head up to stare back at him. It’s the way she looks at him, he doesn’t know how to describe it, but it terrifies him. 

Slap.

Her hand harshly comes in contact with his cheek, strong enough to forcibly knocks his head to the side. His eyes grow wide when he snaps back to her, and he’s met with her tears as they furiously fall in an endless stream down onto her shirt. 

She covers her face with her hands and begins to cry, her whole body shaking uncontrollably as she does so. He reaches out to touch her, but she coils and away from him almost immediately as though he were poison. He retracts his arm quickly. His heart shattering and mind racing because this isn’t something he’d ever thought would happen. The gears in his head going into overdrive as he tries to comprehend what the fuck is going on.

And then he sees it. 

His eyes land down onto his arm. His left forearm, ridden of its concealment. The sinister mark on display for the whole world. He quickly looks back to her, and she looks at him through her puffy eyes as she wraps her arms around herself as a barrier to him. It’s as if to tell him to stay away. 

“You’re one of them,” she chokes out. 

He numbly backs away from her until he hits the edge of the bed. His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t have the power to use it. His entire world feels as if it’s just crashed around him all at once.

It’s his greatest fear come to life. 

“You’re one them,” she repeats, only this time he can practically taste the anger in her voice. 

“Y/n, please,” he starts in pure desperation as his emotions become too overwhelming for him to control. “Just-just listen to me. I lo-”

“No!” she screams at him. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls on the hair on the top of his head. “You lied to me!” With wobbly knees, she stands to her feet, looking down at him with tears veiling her vision. “You’re a liar.”

Harry quickly stands up, pulling her into his chest and clings to her. “Love, no,” he cries, and only growing louder as she attempts to squirm out of his embrace. 

“Let me go!” she yells, but Harry refuses. He cups the back of her hair and frantically declares his love for her in her ear. 

It takes all the strength in her to escape his grasp and push him away. When he tries to approach her, she slaps him.

She slaps him again, then again, and again. His cheek stinging bright red and shining with the tears of his failure. 

Harry falls to his knees and wraps his arms around her lower half as tightly as he can. He can’t let her go, he can’t afford to. No matter how hard she tries to push him away, he’ll only come rushing back. 

“Everything,” she sobs, holding onto the sides of her head because she feels it’s about to explode. “Everything about this relationship is a lie!” 

He shakes his head hysterically against her. “I love you so much. Please, don’t do this. I love you. I love you. Y/n, please. I can’t lose you, not this way. Please, I love you so much.” He cries into the bottom of her shirt and leaves sloppy kisses on the marks of his tears. 

She starts to hit his shoulders, knocking them with her loose fists as she feels the strength in her body drain out of her. She braces herself against the wall, her chest heaving as she breathes out one shaky breath after the next. 

He looks up at her, hoping to find even the faintest of lights in her eyes to give hope that they can make it through this, that this is just a test they need to go through to reach their happy ending. He pleads with her, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him. 

Her face becomes unreadable, but he senses something different about it. She inhales sharply, then all of a sudden she shrieks out in pain. He recedes at arm’s length, his eyes quickly scanning her as his heart quickens in pace. 

A line of blood trails down the inner side of her legs. 

“No, no, no.” He jumps up just in time to catch her in his arms, only for them to land back on the floor. “Gemma!” he shouts towards the door. His girl hunches over and wraps her arms around her stomach. “You’re okay,” he says hurriedly, taking her face in his palm. “You’re okay.” 

Gemma runs into the room, freezing for a moment as she takes in the shock of the image before her. 

“Help her!” Harry screams, and his sister composes herself and orders Harry to get Y/n on the bed. 

Potion flasks swiftly enter the room, too many for Harry to count. Gemma opens the cork a sparkling red one, guiding the nozzle to Y/n’s mouth and lifting her head just high enough for her to drink from it. This seems to relax the pain just enough for her face to soften. 

But the tears in her eyes still continue to flow out. 

He feels so helpless right now. His sister is fully concentrated on his girlfriend, and he’s here standing on the sides. Y/n turns to look at him, but the sight of him makes her breakdown in sobs. 

Gemma pauses mid-incantation and bounces her eyes between the two. 

“You can’t be here right now,” she tells him. 

“I’m not leaving her,” he counters adamantly.

The older Styles lets out a sigh. She shoots her brother a warning look, only to be met with his stubbornness as he refuses to move. Looking back at Y/n, then looking to Harry, she raises her wand and flicks it towards him. 

The walls of the room zoom past in a flash, and suddenly he’s out in the hallway. The door slams shut in front of him, the magnitude of its power enough to rattle the portraits on the walls. 

He’s never felt more worthless.

***

A/N: I KNOW, I KNOW...IT’S BEEN YEARS SINCE I’VE UPDATED. I’m so sorry this took so long, but I hope this was worth the wait!

Anyway, OH MY GOD?? THIS PART THOROUGHLY STRESSED ME OUT AND HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS DON’T HATE ME FOR WHAT JUST HAPPENED :o 

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