#agent!harry

“Carbonyl,” the student near the front answered as she drew the little diagram under the document camera. She smiled, nodded and continued her next drawing waiting for them to identify the correct functional group by sight.

“Those are pretty flowers,” another student remarked while looking at the vase on the desk. It was a perk of having a florist at her fingertips.

“My fiancé is a good one,” she grinned knowingly.

The group in front of her chuckled and looking at the time on her watch she finished her final drawing. “Ketone,” someone announced.

“You guys are going to do great,” she capped her pen. “I’ve got office hours this afternoon if you have any last-minute questions, but otherwise, see you Friday.”

As students packed up, her phone rang with Niall’s contact picture taking up the screen. It was a picture Harry took of him while they went golfing last summer. She thought it was nice and it felt good that someone from her former security detail could feel normal and not make her want to claw her eyes out. It was nice she had a friend that genuinely loved her and she and Harry could depend on.

But Niall never called her without warning.

Her heart hiked up a few beats and she accepted the call. “Hi Niall.”

“Hi, darling,” he said softly. There was no indication that something was wrong in the tone of his voice. Years of practice she imagined. He had to be calm and even when delivering news in a high stakes environment.

But she was also trained for that. And he knew that. So, he should have known better than to underestimate what she sensed. Niall knew she was smart (mainly because Harry bragged about it all the time) so it made her even more nervous about what could possibly be wrong. “What’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“Because you made me do a ridiculous amount of training and pick up on shit like this,” she reminded him. “And you never call me without warning,” she stuffed her belongings into her bag and headed toward the door gently bumping students out of her way in a rush to get to her office so she could figure out what Niall’s issue was. “What is it? What’s wrong with Harry?”

“Nothing…nothing—”

“Niall, spit it out!” She snapped, the grumpy person she hadn’t been in a really long time reappeared as someone from the security detail she couldn’t stand, ignited something in her that had been dormant for a while. She hated it was Niall. Hated that he wasn’t telling her.

He sighed. “I’m out front, I need you to come with me—”

“Where’s Harry?” She spun on her heel, knocking someone’s papers out of their hands and normally she’d care; she would have stayed to help pick them up, but she was rushing toward the front. “Niall!” She hissed into the phone.

“Darling, he specifically told me not to freak you out. Don’t you think I’d be a lot more nervous if something was seriously wrong? I wouldn’t let you finish your lesson.”

“Where’s. Harry.” She snapped again and hung up as she saw Niall’s car with it’s hazards on waiting for her in a no parking zone. She flung the door out of the way and dropped into the seat. Niall pulled off the curb and pressed his lips together. “Niall, I swear to fucking God,” she clicked her seatbelt into place as aggressively as she could.

“He… he got a little banged up, he’s fine. He didn’t even want me to tell you, but I knew you would—”

She made a noise she didn’t know she was capable of making. It came from the depth of her chest, and her voice couldn’t get past her vocal cords. Her eyes welled with tears and she sniffled, shaking her head. Her chest hurt so badly. There was a roaring in her ears that she genuinely thought was going to make her pass out.

“Darling, he’s okay,” he promised and gave her knee a squeeze. “They just… needed to do a little surgery, a few stitches—”

She croaked again and put a hand over her mouth. “What did he do?” She asked, her voice was thinner than air. God, was this how Harry felt all the time? How was he standing?

 He shook his head. “It was typical Harry stuff. There was a pregnant mum getting out of her car with a box and Harry was heading into the shop. But then her little boy started to get out of the car on the road-side and he just… he did his Harry thing and got clipped by a motorcycle.”

That stupid noise in her throat made itself known again and if she wasn’t so upset she would have been embarrassed.

But her Harry was broken and he was so good and it made her think terrible things. Things that she didn’t even think about herself when some of the most despicable things happened to her back when she first met Harry. “He’s okay?” She sniveled.

“I promise, he’s going to be fine, I just wanted you to be there when he got out.”

She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered and twiddled with her fingers moving the engagement ring on her finger around and gnawed on her lip as she tried to remain positive. “Niall,” she croaked.

“I know, darling. I know,” he gave her knee another soft squeeze. “He’s going to be fine, I swear. He wouldn’t do that to you,” he was being gentle and kind as he pulled into the parking lot. She was antsy and wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Niall spoke gently to the receptionist, flashed a badge, and placed a hand on her back, to guide her toward one of the recovery rooms. “He’s a little scraped up, okay? I just want you to be prepared.”

More tears filled her eyes, and she nodded, swallowed, tried to be braver than she felt. Niall knocked and entered. “Brought you a gift—not from the giftshop. It’s too overpriced.”

“Hmm?” He hummed from behind the curtain. He sounded drowsy and Niall pulled the curtain out of the way to show off the girl beside him. Sleepily, Harry’s gaze rolled over her and she felt naked and warm even though he was hardly aware of his surroundings. “Oh, y’can’t put a price on that anyway,” he murmured and his smile stretched tiredly across his lips. “Y’weren’t supposed to tell her,” Harry mumbled.

“Harry,” she whined and hurried over to his bedside.

“M’fine, love,” he promised and stretched out his arm to grab her hand. “S’jus’ a scrape.” But his other arm was in a cast. His eye, from what she could see since it was only half open, was bright red with a broken blood vessel probably. His eyebrow had some stitches, and his beautiful face was scratched. “Don’t cry, baby. M’okay,” his voice was slurred.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffled and wiped her face. Niall snorted.

“She cried the whole way here.”

“Shut up, Niall!” She frowned and glared at him.

He snickered while Harry chuckled softly. “I’ll go grab some coffee, darling. And maybe I’ll get you an actual gift,” he told Harry and headed for the door.

“I have everything I need here,” he mumbled quietly. The admiration in his eyes made her feel like an ice cube melting in the sun. His poor brain had to hurt. Everything had to hurt.

“You’re supposed to be done being a superhero,” she whispered.

“M’hardly a superhero. I wasn’t going t’let a little kid get hit by traffic,” he squeezed her fingers. He rubbed his thumb along her ring finger just above the sparkly diamond he gave her. “Would have been a lot worse for the kid,” he said knowingly.

She frowned, willing the tears to stay inside her eyes. “You’re too good.”

He smirked. “Thanks, kitten.”

“Do you feel like this all the time?” She whispered and brought his hand to her mouth to press kisses on his unscraped knuckles.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m going to die and everything is going to be awful for the rest of time?” He chuckled, a knowing smile on his lips. “This isn’t funny, Harry!” She croaked.

He pressed his lips together, even though she could see his stupid smug smirk hiding on the corners of his mouth. Even though he was making fun of her silently, she still just wanted to kiss him forever. “I know, it’s not. M’sorry, love,” he whispered.

She stomped her foot. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Honey, please sit,” he tilted his head toward the chair right by the bed. She sat obediently because he used her favorite pet name, so she was simply putty to anything he asked.

“I have to die before you,” she stated simply.

He chuckled at her outlandish request, unable to hide his amusement of her. “Kitten, my love, no,” he shook his head. “That’s not—”

“No, I won’t…” her eyes welled with tears again. “I can’t, Harry. I can’t do this without you. It’s—”

His smugness retreated and he pouted ever so slightly. She was adorable and he felt so bad she was upset. “Alright, baby. Alright,” he hushed and reached for her face, he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone damp with tears that she wasn’t supposed to be shedding. “God you’re pretty,” he smiled. She shook her head, feeling at her least pretty with a sniffly nose and bloodshot eyes (from nothing like what Harry experienced—just crying about her fiancé). “Do y’remember when we left England the first time? And y’asked me what m’favorite flower was?”

“You said it was a wildflower,” she mumbled. “Are you changing it? Because you wouldn’t be with me? You wouldn’t have opened a flower shop? You wouldn’t have been on the sidewalk trying to be kind and wouldn’t get hit by a motorcycle?” She wasn’t sure where she was going with that rationale. She just knew that Harry had dealt with a lot because of her and she wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to see her again.

“Shh,” he hushed, slid his hand down the side of her face, down her arm and brought her hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. “Do you know I meant you?” He asked.

She felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment. It felt ridiculous to be this upset and to be overwhelmed when he had dealt with so much more. Plus, he was the one who was all banged up and he was comforting her. It didn’t make sense; it was simply too much. “I assumed so, yes.”

“M’not going anywhere, Miss Wildflower,” he promised. “I’ve lived through a lot worse without any physical damage to myself, in case you didn’t know,” but he sounded very knowing in his statement. “This? S’nothing,” he promised. “I’ll heal and be my handsome self again soon.”

“You’re actually super annoying and still look ridiculously hot like this,” she mumbled, noting that the stitches, in perhaps the weirdest way, seemed super sexy. The way he was sprawled across the hospital bed, he looked extremely enticing. If she wasn’t worried about breaking one of his ribs or something else, she would have considered crawling into bed with him.

He laughed a little harder, maybe the anesthesia was starting to wear off. It sounded a little more normal and it felt like parts of her heart were healing and returning to normal. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” he promised, watching her carefully.

Her lip trembled. “You better not.”

“I won’t.”

She leaned closer toward him. There were only a few inches between his scraped face and hers. “Promise?”

“I promise, kitten. M’not going anywhere,” he assured her and cupped the back of her head.

“Is it safe to kiss you?” She asked quietly.

“Even if it wasn’t, I’d let you anyway, my love,” his eyes twinkled. Even though one was bright red and scary looking. His green iris seemed to stand out more and she thought it was extremely unfair he could still be this sexy while hurt. She knew she didn’t look anything like this when she was lying in the hospital bed.

Still nervous to hurt him by accident, but unwilling to wait any longer, very softly, she brushed her lips against his. He kept his hand on the back of her head, and it was truly amazing he made every one of their kisses feel like the first one. She moaned softly and she loved when he pulled gently on her hair to make her mouth open almost instinctively. His tongue gently moved over hers and he exhaled deeply through his nose as he kept his mouth on hers. When he pulled away, he grinned and pecked her lower then upper lip each in turn then the bridge of her nose.

“Don’t ever tell Niall not to tell me something either,” she glared at him.

He grinned. “Okay, baby,” he ran his thumb across on her extremely kissable lip. “Whatever you say.”

--

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@toosarcastic03 @love-letters-to-uranus @crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @indierockgirrl

@stylesfever @michellekstyles @hermionelove @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009

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Protection taglist:

@youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @be-with-me-so-happily

@cherryshouse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @cherrystyle @kaiohnsa @snwells

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“What’s her favorite kind of flower?” Niall asked.

Harry dropped his head back on the sofa and exhaled deeply. He turned to his best friend and shook his head. What a ridiculous question Harry thought. Of course he was going to have her favorite flowers there. It was an integral part of their relationship. But Harry got her flowers all the time. Every week a vase on his kitchen counter was arranged by her to brighten the room. Flowers weren’t special, not really. They were a reminder that he adored her of course, but this was a special moment, and her regular flower order wasn’t going to cut it.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t know,” Niall shrugged and scowled at him. He sipped his beer. She insisted that Harry leave her alone for guy-time. He hated it. Not that he didn’t enjoy his time with Niall, but he enjoyed having her around. It eased his mind of worry even if she was kind enough to wear his favorite scrunchie. “Why was that such a bad thing to ask?”

“M’not going t’propose with jus’ her favorite flowers,” he grumbled sipping his own beer and watched the TV for a few minutes. Niall smirked and shook his head. “What?”

“I’m glad you found her,” he shrugged one shoulder. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” he rolled his eyes. But he would thank Niall endlessly for finding the pretty girl, for recommending him to DSS. If it wasn’t for Niall, there would be no love for Harry. Now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go.

Niall sipped his drink again and grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on his coffee table. “What’s she doing today?” He asked.

“She’s holding a few review sessions on campus,” he mumbled. The fall semester was coming to an end, and she was spending more time with office hours and making sure that her students felt comfortable with the material. Meanwhile, Harry was in the office, Niall a few rooms away, while he was filing paperwork mindlessly. He helped with training and the like but truthfully Harry missed his days of sitting on her couch and watching her study. He missed running errands with her and following her on her jogs in the park.

But really, he just missed her. Which was ridiculous. She pointed it out too and Harry couldn’t even deny it.

“And you haven’t been watching her location like a hawk?” Niall knew all about the little hair scrunchie. He was the only one that knew the extent of her failsafe and Harry’s forethought to track her when he almost lost her for good.

Harry glared at his lap. “M’not crazy, Niall. M’worried.”

“It can be both,” he shrugged again.

“I don’t even know why she thinks I want t’hang out with you,” he grumbled sipping his drink.

“Because your girlfriend soon-to-be fiancée is an excellent judge of character,” he smiled.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. He loved being her boyfriend, but he was extremely excited for an upgrade. He told his mum his plans, FaceTimed Gemma while selecting the ring. It was locked in his desk drawer at work because he didn’t want her to find it while putting laundry away. He knew she wouldn’t step foot in the DSS building for the rest of her life if she could help it.

All that was left to do was figure out how to ask her the most important question in the world. She didn’t really have friends to ask what her ideal scenario would be. He knew she wouldn’t want a big public to-do, but nothing seemed fitting for her. She needed a big to-do. She was his angel. His everything.

He didn’t want it to be a holiday. She deserved a special day all to herself, not overshadowed by a day no one else would remember. There wouldn’t be any family there because...well... and that was fine. Harry thought she would like a quiet private moment, but it didn’t seem like enough for how much he adored her. He wanted to scream it from the top of a building so everyone knew how special she was; his brilliant, beautiful girl.

“Harry,” Niall’s voice was gentle. Calm and kind, not an ounce of joking. It was like when he chatted with him about her attitude while he was on duty when they first started out. Harry could feel the smile on his face as he thought about her. But he was a bit sad too; worried that she wouldn’t feel the love he felt for her the way he wanted. He worried she would miss her mum—although he supposed that was going to happen regardless. How was he supposed to make it perfect for her? “She loves you,” he reminded him. “She’ll love whatever you do, and I know she’s going to say yes. You probably don’t even have to ask her.”

His heart felt a little less sad as he said it. He knew he was right. So, he would forgo the planning for the time being and just remind himself that she loved him as much as he loved her.

Harry relaxed a bit when his phone vibrated with a message from Miss Wildflower

I miss you 💕 Hope you’re having a nice time. Session 1 is done and went well. Onto session 2. Pizza for dinner? Watch a movie? Love you so, so much

Maybe she even loved him a little more.

Niall and Harry cheered and watched the game in near silence. Chatting mostly about the players and work every so often. When the game ended, Niall turned on his gaming console and all but threw a controller at Harry.

They were midway through their second game of play when his phone rang. Harry answered it before the second ring had finished. “Hey kitten,” he said trying not to sound like a psychopath and anxiously awaiting his phone to ring with her at the end.

“Hi,” she sounded fine, sweet, even. “How’s your night?” She asked politely.

“Good, Derby won, so Niall’s happy.”

“Wonderful,” she giggled. “I’m glad. Are you guys busy at the moment?”

“No, why?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” she had a smile in her voice. “But I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You could never interrupt,” he murmured quietly. She laughed quietly into the phone.

“I’ll see you later,” she promised. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he responded and waited until she hung up before putting the phone down.

“You’re welcome,” Niall repeated with a smirk.

*

She had gone to the dining hall with her coworker to catch up on a few things before her next class started. There was a mental to do list awaiting her when she returned to her office and when she got back to Harry’s apartment. Except now it was their apartment. It made her heart skip a beat to be in love with someone so lovely. Someone who adored her and all her flaws (although Harry would say she didn’t have any—which was excessively sweet too.)

She was looking at her phone as she approached her office checking on her email and dropped her bag on the floor beside her desk as she opened her laptop. Right inside the her computer was a medium-sized brown envelope. She took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was a standard white envelope with a return address label that she didn’t want.

Immediately, she understood why it was in her laptop. The letter should have just come through the university mail. But all that really meant was that someone went into her office without her permission. Dropping her head back against her chair she blew out the breath she realized she was holding. She tugged at the scrunchie on her wrist and opened her phone to her recent calls once more.

“Niall would be a lot calmer,” she mumbled to herself.

But Harry would be wrecked if she didn’t call him. Didn’t tell him immediately that she was... nervous. It was nothing. He was going to be in jail for a very long time and he couldn’t hurt her. But the thought of someone leaving the letter was enough to make her on edge. Perhaps she should have just left and joined boys’ night. Didn’t Harry deserve a night to himself? Especially without worrying about her.

There was no calling Niall without Harry reaching DEFCON one.

It wasn’t fair to either of them. She knew they would both be here in a heartbeat and they wouldn’t mind at all, but it should have to come to this.

“Ugh,” she groaned and rubbed her temples. “Alright, come on,” she grumbled to herself and dialed his phone once more.

“Hi kitten,” he cooed immediately.

“Hi,” she smiled. His voice was so sweet, his adoration for her so apparent in his voice it made her feel woozy. It was unreal someone as wonderful as Harry loved her so completely. Unlike anything she felt in her life.

“Y’okay?” He asked calmly. It was impressive for him. He seemed pretty relaxed considering he was probably bouncing his knee rapidly in anticipation of the worst.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I am one hundred percent fine,” she said assuredly.

“So... jus’ wanted t’hear m’voice?” He continued. She could hear the suspicion in his voice. There was no hiding from him. No surprising him.

“Ah,” she laughed quietly. “Yes, definitely. But... also... are you guys busy now?”

“No,” he hedged. It was like he knew. She knew he knew that she was the tiniest bit in duress. If you could call it that. She inspected her cuticles while she listened to the silence stretch between them. While Harry worked through every worst-case scenario possible for the short moment he filled in the blank of her open-ended question. “Why?”

“I just... thought you might be able to swing by... if you guys can spare the time, of course.” maybe being casual would work.

“Why?” He snapped.

“Oh, come on, baby. Please don’t freak out, I’ll even stay on the phone the whole time. I’m pretty sure this thing tracks to the—”

“Don’t say it out loud!” He almost shouted over her voice. “Niall. Keys. Now.”

She sighed. “Harry,” she felt defeated and slumped low in her chair. “It’s not—”

“M’on m’way, kitten, don’t move,” he ordered. “Lock your office, please.”

“Do you want me to stay put or do you want me to lock the door?” Maybe a joke would help reaffirm that she was fine, and it wasn’t that serious.

“Not the time, love. Not funny.”

Perhaps not a joke, then.

Harry sighed deeply and she could hear their footsteps hurrying down Niall’s apartment building halls and heading to the parking lot, the main door opening with a squeak that needed to be oiled due to the humidity. They were probably no more than eleven minutes from her including parking and walking to her building and office. She knew that her sarcastic comment wasn’t kind to his frazzled mind, and she knew she shouldn’t have said it but she just wanted him to relax. Poor Harry was going to be subject to a heart attack if she wasn’t careful.

“Can I talk to Niall?” She asked quietly while she locked her office door and immediately went back to her chair to sit still until her knight in shining armor arrived.

“No,” he grumbled. “Niall y’better run every red light.”

“Harry, that’s dangerous and unnecessary—”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered. “Please,” he added as an after fact, but it was hard and she knew he was mad.

“Nothing! It’s really nothing. Honestly, I think I’m just being a little cautious which I thought you would appreciate—”

“I would appreciate it more if y’told me what was wrong,” she could practically see him shaking with anxiety in Niall’s front seat. She wished she was a better negotiator because chatting with Niall would have been a lot easier to calm him.

“It’s just... someone left me a letter in my office and it wouldn’t be a bad thing normally... except... it’s from my dad. So... that means someone...” she took a deep breath. “I think someone broke into my office,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She knew he was going to freak out. But that was what happened. There was no way of explaining it otherwise.

“Niall,” he snapped again.

“I’m going as fast as I can!”

“Harry, I’m fine.”

But it was much too late, and Harry was going to start hyperventilating at any moment. She sighed and looked at the ceiling inspecting the paint for any disturbances. She couldn’t see any blinking lights like she was being recorded. She assumed it was just the letter and nothing more. Nothing appeared to be taken, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Everything was fine.

“Honey,” he said suddenly. Her body warmed all over. The way it did every time he called her the sweet name. Ever since he called her honey in her kitchen while he tended to the gash on her hand. She figured he was plenty aware of the effect it had on her because he used it sparingly, only saying it when he wanted her to remain serious and not her funny self.

“I’m fine, Harry. I promise, baby. I didn’t want to call and—”

“Don’t ever not call me.”

“—worry you on purpose. I’m whole and fine,” she pleaded quietly. Her voice felt softer as she tried to convince him things were okay. “You’re going to stress for nothing, I promise.”

He breathed out a shaky breath. “I jus’ need t’hold you,” he admitted, his voice grumbly. Almost like he was embarrassed to say it in front of Niall. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She knew Harry didn’t care at all that Niall knew how much he loved her.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces because it was the sweetest, most adorable thing he could have said. “I’m here waiting,” she smiled into the phone and counted down the moments until he would be rushing in. She tried to breathe a little louder, made more noises, tapped the keys on her laptop, scrunched a piece of paper to toss into the recycle bin across the room. All little pieces of evidence that she was fine, and everything was okay and hopefully Harry would recognize that.

Not long after, she heard the car door slam and Harry’s quiet breathing increased ever so slightly, indicating that he was running from the parking lot. “Do you want me to unlock—”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed standing up as she heard two sets of footsteps down the hall outside her door. The lock slid open using the key that she gave Harry with administration permission. There was a whole thing about it, but given he still worked at DSS at the time, they didn’t really question it. He was vetted and whatnot for protecting her.

Lord knew Harry loved to protect her.

With the door out of the way, he dropped his phone the moment he crossed the threshold. He didn’t stop moving even though she was sure the screen cracked, and his case fell off. Even once she was in his arms, he was still kind of moving, nearly pressing her into the windowsill behind her desk. He buried his face into the crook of her neck where he breathed in her hair and squeezed her tighter.

“Hi princess,” Niall smiled gently closing the door behind him as if this was a normal moment.

She grinned, rubbing Harry’s back only pausing briefly to wave from Harry’s embrace. “Hi, Niall. Did you guys have fun?” She asked.

He nodded with an eye roll at Harry. Niall made his way closer to the pair of them. “Loads.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said apologietically.

“Not at all, you could—”

“It’s not interrupting,” Harry grumbled.

She gave him another squeeze. “He was saying that, baby. Just relax, please,” she hummed softly.

“This the letter?” Niall asked, picking it up off her desk.

She nodded.

“A lot of people have the key to your office, no?” He asked breaking the seal of the envelope.

She nodded against Harry who seemed to be calming down ever so slightly—if the rise and fall of his shoulders was any indication. “But... I don’t think they would leave a letter, you know?”

“I’ll get the video from the security cameras,” he assured her. “See who came by.”

“I’m sorry, it’s your day off,” she frowned.

Harry scoffed. “That does—”

But Niall interrupted him before he could finish. “Oh, for you Princess? I love working overtime,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about that at all,” he grinned as he scanned the paper in front of him.

“Anything good?”

“He’s apologizing.” She didn’t say anything. Harry pulled away and kept hold of her hand while he moved toward Niall to read over his shoulder. “Do you want to read it?” Niall asked.

“No,” she shook her head.

Harry scanned the letter as well. “He said he wants you t’respond.”

“I’m sure,” she looked toward the window. Sighing, she realized she would have to come clean about one little truth she had neglected to tell Niall and Harry. “I guess... it kind of makes sense the letter is here. I haven’t answered any of his other ones. He usually sends them to the post office,” she explained.

“He does?” Harry looked at her, his eyebrows raised. This was news to him, that was obvious.

“I don’t read them,” she shrugged. “I’m not really worried about the letter to be honest. I care more that someone came into my office without permission.”

Niall sighed. “Well, you know him better than I, Princess. He seems pretty remorseful—nothing suspicious.”

“He’s probably remorseful because he’s stuck in jail,” she grumbled. “Probably thinks my response of forgiveness, which he will never get, will make his chances better for a reduced sentence,” she released Harry’s hand and began packing up her items to head home. Harry would likely drive her car back to their place and he would get his car from Niall’s some other time.

It was silent for a moment and when she looked up she realized Harry and Niall were staring at one another. Eyes locked with a silent conversation. Harry turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips set in a frown. “One more month, kitten, please.”

She huffed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“One week,” he bargained.

“No.”

“Harry, it’s just—” Niall started.

“Please, kitten, I’m begging.”

She shook her head defiantly. “No, he’s not winning, Harry. He’s in jail because he tried to kill me. He’s not going to control any more of my life, alright? I’m sorry you’re scared. I get it, I do. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through. I would have lost my mind,” she cupped his cheek.

Harry swallowed the emotion in his throat as his mind immediately started thinking about how lifeless she looked; how cold she felt, how her skin turned pale and her lips blue. He turned his face away from her because he could feel his eyes stinging with tears. He swallowed hard, the bob visible in his throat as she rubbed her thumb on his cheek. “But... I cannot let him win. He’s not going to scare me. He can’t kill me from in there.”

Niall was patient. Re-reading while Harry had his meltdown. All while she tried to comfort him. Maybe they would have her followed by an agent or two for a little while. She could see them doing that. She would know—they weren’t very subtle about it and had noticed the other few times they had.

“One day?” He pleaded. “Jus’ one day with a bodyguard t’make sure—”

“Harry, I will make you sleep on the couch,” she warned.

She knew he thought it would be worth it. He turned to Niall for help. “She’s not on our service anymore, Harry. I don’t mind, she’s one of my best friends and I love keeping her safe, but I can’t force an agent on her.”

“I also have free will?” She reminded him. “May I remind you that I do not like security. It’s not necessary. Especially now that he’s in jail. I know you’re both just going to have me followed again until you’re content and I—”

“I told you she knew,” Niall sighed and looked Harry with a shake of his head.

“—don’t want it nor do I—”

“Not now, honey,” he brought her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze even though she was ranting with bitterness. Gently, he tugged her toward him so she was closer to his side. He knew calling her honey would make her soften a bit. He wasn’t fully sure why, so he used the little nickname sparingly. For important moments when he wanted her to know he meant business.

It also helped ease the blow of Harry’s minor freak out because it sort of paused everything they were thinking. She took a deep breath. “Can we go home?” She asked.

“I’ll take this,” Niall smiled. “I’ll come pick you up for work Harry so you can get your car back tomorrow,” he offered. He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Night Princess, stay safe,” he winked and headed out the door.

She handed Harry her keys and let him wrap his arm around her waist (not that she didn’t enjoy it). “You can have Niall pick you up here tomorrow. You can come and sweep my office and classroom if it will make you feel better,” she offered kindly.

He kissed the top of her head. “I trust you.”

She smiled and rested her head against his chest as they walked. “It’ll make me feel better if you do,” she assured him. It wouldn’t—well, it would. But she knew it would make him feel better and that was the best medicine she could buy for her anxious boyfriend.

“You got it, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head.

*

She knew why she was visiting, but it seemed a little weird that Harry wanted to join her. There were a lot of things he didn’t like to let her do on her own, but this was definitely one he preferred to steer clear of most of the time.

Or so she thought.

“You hate coming here,” she said suspiciously as they exited the car.

He shrugged. “I know... I do... but... I come here t’talk t’your mom.”

She stopped walking, her hand went to her heart. “You what?”

Harry shrugged again. “Y’said this is where y’come to talk t’your mom... before everything that happened. That... y’feel close to her here,” he reminded her giving her hand a squeeze as they continued forward. Harry tried hard to forget the time he was last here with her. When he held her cradled in his arms. Her skin cold and blue, the raw red marks on her wrists from the zip ties, and the bandage on her leg falling apart from the seawater. “So, I thought I should come here to talk t’her too. Dr. Petra suggested it. Supposed t’help me cope... but also so I can be closer t’your mum,” he explained.

Her throat felt tight with the need to cry. How she always felt when she thought about her mom. But now it was exacerbated by how thoughtful it was that Harry cared enough to talk to her mom even when they couldn’t physically speak to her. “Why...?” She swallowed, shook her head to rid herself of the tears threatening to fill her eyes. “Why... do you talk to my mom?”

“Lots of reasons, kitten. Mostly though, m’trying t’see if she’s got any ideas on how t’make y’less cranky.”

She smacked him and pouted. “I’m not cranky.”

“I know, it’s working.”

She glared at him. “So, you just come out here to where I almost died to talk to my dead mother and tell her how much of a pain in the ass I am?”

“No, s’obviously not what I talk ‘bout, honey,” he rolled his eyes and smirked to himself. That little word made her heart soften just like always. Harry stopped walking and grabbed her hip to turn toward him. “I tell her how much I adore you and how special you are t’me,” he used his other hand to cup her cheek. He bent to kiss her briefly, making her lips tingle with warmth and love for the perfect, sweet man. “I tell her that she would be so proud of you and everything you do. I tell her that m’going t’make sure I make her proud too. That if she was alive, she would like me because I make your life a little better—a little easier because I love you more than anything.”

She was eerily silent. That did sound more reasonable than him making fun of her. She swallowed and took a deep breath trying to keep the tears at bay. “She would love you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he smiled and stepped out of the way and gestured for her to proceed forward. If she wasn’t so floored by his use of honey and his little declaration of telling her dead mother how much he loved her, she would have been a step ahead of him. She would have noticed that Harry never let her lead blindly.

But this was easily one of the worst places in existence for both of them.

There were hundreds of flowers lying on the ground in a circle. A bouquet pulled apart, so they were placed purposefully around the area. A gorgeous array of colors—like a rainbow. Every kind of flower that ever hung in her apartment. Every flower that was part of a bouquet that Harry got her for the length of their relationship. Every flower she ever mentioned and how beautiful it was.

Wildflowers. There were hundreds of wildflowers. “Harry?” She asked. “What—”

“Miss Wildflower,” he said from behind her. She turned, her eyes dropping instantly to meet his gaze. He was kneeling on one knee, his hands holding a small box in front of his chest. A gorgeous diamond glittering in the box. “You’re unbelievably beautiful, beyond intelligent, so stubborn, and my favorite person in the world. I love you more every day. Every minute. It was an honor to protect you, and I plan t’do it every day for the rest of our lives,” he promised. “I hate this place,” he told her. “But you, you Miss Wildflower, you make flowers grow in the worst and darkest of places. You brighten every moment of my life, and I want to spend forever being in love with you and trying to brighten your life half as much as you brighten mine.”

She smiled at him, tears filling her eyes as she nodded at him. “Yes,” she whispered.

“I didn’t ask yet.”

“So ask,” she sniffled. “Yes.”

“I had more. I wanted t’ask here, so your mum could—”

“Yes.”

“Niall’s over there taking pictures I think, kitten. I haven’t even—”

“Please ask, before I explode,” she begged, bouncing on her feet a bit as she watched him.

He chuckled, not breaking his gaze. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered and covered her mouth with her hand. Harry stood and wrapped his arms around her, letting the ring box close at the same time. He held her,  lifting her gently off the ground. “You can let someone follow me for one week.”

He laughed. “Yeah? S’that m’engagement present?”

She nodded. “I love you, so, so much Harry.”

“I love you,” he kissed her sweetly. “Do y’think your mum would approve?”

“Yes,” she nodded and tucked her face into his shoulder. “Probably would convince you not to fall for someone grumpy like me.”

Harry cupped her jaw and brushed his thumb along her lip. He pressed a kiss to her mouth and smiled happily while Niall snapped pictures from between the trees nearby. “Honey, no one could ever keep me away from you.”

--

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“You said I could,” he frowned. The little scrunch between his eyebrows appeared when he concentrated. She loved it endlessly. Even if what he was asking was ridiculous. So as much as she loved that little furrow between his eyebrows, she was not going to cave. Instead, she smoothed her fingers on the bunch of skin and cupped his cheek with her hand. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm.

“Like as a joke, Harry,” she rolled her eyes she dropped her hand and returned to her previous position. She couldn’t see his face. But it didn’t matter. She already knew what faces he made any time she annoyed him anyway.

It was insane they were even having this conversation. Harry broached it so casually too. They were snuggled on the sofa, her body resting in his embrace. His knees bent around either side of her body and she laid across his torso. She fit so warmly against him it was hard to believe he was even asking her such a thing because the idea she would ever leave the circle of his arms was ridiculous.

“Okay,” he sighed. It was obvious he was frustrated by the decision. Her head was close enough to his mouth that he could kiss the top of her hair, so he did. He ran one hand up and down her arm sitting in the quiet while he held her safely in his arms. It was his favorite part of the day, holding her close to him where he knew nothing bad was going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Obviously, she took his silence as plotting to convince her. Which he could never. He knew that. He knew he would have an easier time convincing a fish to walk than telling her what to do. “I literally have my phone on me all the time and now you know about my shoe trick.”

He sighed. “But y’didn't have y'phone,” he reminded her. “No shoes either.”

There was that; she would allow him that much. “Well, there's no more threat, so I don't need—”

"Kitten," he sighed rubbing a hand over his face. He was exasperated. “I don’t want t’talk ‘bout this anymore,” he mumbled.

She frowned feeling bad she upset him. But he was thinking way too far over the top. “No one is even going to remember me anymore,” she whispered quietly. “He’s in jail for a really long time,” she reminded him. He didn’t answer her. “Harry,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”

“I already said I don’t want t’talk ‘bout it anymore.”

Her frown deepened and she sighed; feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world because she wouldn’t put a tracking device in her arm. “I have the scrunchie, too; for when you’re away,” she reminded him. He nodded, still silent. “Harry,” she sat up on her knees, so she could look at him. He was so pretty, all soft skin and angular. He was so handsome it made her swoon on a regular basis, and he was all hers. But she had to stand her ground.

His eyes looked sad, tired. Too sad. “M’not trying t’be controlling.”

“Of course not, Harry. I know—”

“Honey,” he interrupted.

Her heart skipped a beat because for whatever reason, when he called her honey, it made her lose all rational thought. It seemed like the conversation was far more serious than when he called her kitten, love, or even Miss Wildflower. She felt like she was nothing more than a container of the very sweet goop he called her. “I talked ‘bout this with m’therapist and we... I know m’being... crazy,” he frowned. He cupped the side of her face as he spoke so softly. Like all of this was a secret. “But... I was insanely lucky,” he reminded her. “Y’were brilliant,” he complimented. “I told you ‘bout a fail safe in passing and y’had been planning all along. I was completely blindsided by y’departure. Every step you had planned was perfect. But if y’didn’t have an AirTag, I wouldn’t have found you,” he admitted. She didn’t speak because his compliment was too nice. She didn’t think about it all that much. Mainly because she didn’t like thinking about betraying Harry the way she did. It was nearly a year ago and he was still worried. It probably killed him to admit that out loud. Because it was his job at the time, and he wouldn’t have been able to find her. But it wasn’t just his job. He loved her so completely.

If something happened to her, she really believed Harry wouldn’t survive the guilt. He barely forgave himself for her injured leg and she wasn’t convinced he fully forgave himself for that either.

She turned toward his palm in the same way he had and kissed his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You don’t need t’apologize, kitten. Y’didn’t do anything wrong.”

She took a deep breath. She had her own therapist and they had also discussed a lot about her hyper-independence. Even with someone like Harry to rely on because she could, and he wouldn’t ever judge her. “I’m not...” she swallowed. “I had people follow me around for years, Harry,” she reminded him.

“I know—”

She pressed a finger to his lips gently. “I couldn’t do what I wanted ninety percent of my life, Harry,” she reminded him. “Do you know what it’s like to want to go to the mall to get new jeans because yours ripped and someone tells you that you can’t? Or that you want to go to a new frozen yogurt place with friends, but you’re not allowed to? If I forgot a vegetable for dinner, I couldn’t run to the store and back without it being a production,” he didn’t know what any of that felt like; not really. He only knew it from the end of production. The part of it all she didn’t like. So, he stayed quiet. “If you texted me every five minutes for the rest of our lives, asking where I was, I would tell you every. Single. Time,” she assured him locking her gaze with his. He felt it in his stomach, the way she looked at him. She meant every word she spoke. “If you put a tracking device in me it’ll... it’ll just feel like the rest of my life. Unable to make decisions on my own. Unable to live freely,” she told him. “You have my location through my phone. I am more than willing to have that scrunchie on my wrist and in my hair when you’re not within a couple hours of me,” she promised thinking about the weekend he spent with his mom. She wondered how long he stared at the little blipping dot that told him she was safe and in her house for most of the time he was gone. “Those AirTags saved my life because you told me I needed a failsafe, Harry. You saved me.”

His gaze dropped from hers and they were quiet. Harry didn’t like the compliment. He felt like he didn’t do a good job because she nearly drowned and had a scar on her thigh that made him want to smack his head on the wall for letting those things happen to her. Silently, she settled back into his arms, her ear resting so she had the perfect sound of his heart thudding against her.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too,” his head dropped back against the arm of the sofa and he squeezed her. He thought of all those days she studied on the ground and how they were always this close to snuggling this way. “M’sorry m’so nervous,” he mumbled. “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he pressed his nose just behind her ear, like he was tracing the outline of her hair behind it.

“I think if I had a tracking device, you wouldn’t enjoy your life. Wouldn’t take your eyes off it.”

He thought of visiting his mother back in March and how the anxiety built and fell over and over as he looked at the little blip telling him where her scrunchie was. She was right. He would have it on every screen he owned if he knew her exact location. “You’re right.”

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” she giggled and kissed his throat.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a genius, kitten. M’happy t’say you’re right.” It was embarrassing how those words turned her on. A shiver rippled through her. No one loved her as much as Harry. No one trusted her instinct, her intelligence, or judgement as much as he did. But it was more than that. Because Harry knew people didn’t believe her for years. People misjudged her abilities because of her father and circumstance. They didn’t believe in her. So it was like he had complimented how pretty she looked (which she did) when he said she was right. It wasn’t an ego thing. “Did y’like that, honey?” He hummed his lips nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.

Harry knew exactly how much she liked that.

“Off,” she ordered shoving his shirt up his torso. It didn’t matter than she had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times since the day they warmed up in his car after the icy dip in the water when he saved her life a second time in one week. She liked to feel the hard ripples of his stomach and he had promised she could look as much as she wanted once she was warm.

Well now she was warm. “Yes, ma’am,” he pulled it off the rest of the way and pulled her in to kiss her as deeply as he could before he pushed her back to the opposite end of the couch and settled between her legs. “Say it,” he whispered, not quite begging. But he wanted to hear it. Because it made him feel better. It made him worry less about all the thoughts they had discussed in the last hour. He carefully shifted her leg as if he was worried it was the very same day she nearly bled out. He slipped his hand between their bodies feeling her through her leggings.

She moaned softly while he kissed the length of her throat and brushed his lips against the swell of her chest as she tried to maintain enough air to speak before she was lost in Harry and all his perfection.

She had no problem saying it. Because it was true. Truer than most anything she believed in her life. Harry was hers and he was going to protect her in any way he could even if she wasn't willing to put a tracking device in her body. “I’m all yours,” she promised breathlessly.

--

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“Mumma!” The little shout was from down the hall. Almost immediately her eyes opened, the maternal instinct kicking in before the first syllable left her lips. Carefully, she pulled herself from under Harry’s arm.

Thunder was the culprit. She should have known but she was tired when Harry came to bed and didn’t even notice the loud storm. Frowning, she hurried the few rooms over to the bedroom, a pep in her step because she was a little worried it was something worse than fear of the storm. Opening the bedroom door, she sighed, leaning against the doorframe and putting all her weight on her good leg—because even though it had been over half a decade since the injury, it still ached in the rain. “Hey Miss Petal,” she whispered softly. “S’matter, Violet?” She crept across the room feeling worse by the moment as she adjusted to the darkness—only half-lit by a flower shaped nightlight plugged in along the back wall. How could she have slept through the storm that made the five-year-old so sad?

The little one was frowning too. Not quite crying, but she was definitely watery-eyed. “M’scared,” she pouted.

“Of what, my love?” She asked scooping her into her arms and tucking her little face into the crook of her neck. She was warm and a little sweaty from being so scared. She gently cupped the back of her head, smoothing down her soft brown curls that she got from her father. Her lips brushed along Violet's hairline comfortingly.

“The thunder, it’s loud,” she explained. Her little pout was all Harry. It seemed sinful for someone as pretty as her to frown. She felt the same way when Harry frowned too.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” she hummed and started down the hall back for the other bedroom. Of course, with an achy leg and a child on her hip, she limped back a little more than she did on the way to her room. “It’s okay though. The storm can’t hurt you,” she reminded her. “Daddy and I would never let anything hurt you,” she promised. She would first use herself as a shield, then Harry if necessary. But she was certain if anything came close to danger of harming their daughter, Harry wouldn’t let it near either of them.

“S’wrong, loves?” Harry mumbled sleepily rubbing his eye hearing them enter the bedroom again.

“We’re just a little rattled by thunder,” she explained, her knee touching the bed frame indicating she made it back to her oasis, ready to snuggle with Harry. She slipped back into bed and placed the pretty little girl between them in the middle of the mattress.

Immediately, Harry reached out for his daughter. She was warm, adorable, and a little shaky with anxiety from the storm. She was a carbon copy of the love of his life just one little body away from him. Already brilliant—a little inquisitive genius, obsessed with plants and flowers. A scientist in the making with the kindest heart Harry had ever seen for a five-year-old. “Aw, petal,” Harry kissed her temple and pulled her closer. The thunder very nearly shook the house making her stiffen in his arms. “S’nothing, Violet,” he promised.

Without the nightlight, she had to reach out and feel for Violet's little face. Her finger traced the shape of her eyebrows, brushed her soft, tear-damp lashes, and felt her pouting little lip on her daughter’s face. “It’s loud,” she whispered to Harry. He nodded understandingly against her little frame and pulled her closer to him, snuggling so she pressed up against his torso. With one arm beneath his pillow, it stretched across the bed and grasped for his wife’s hand. “Miss Wildflower,” Harry said softly. “D’you think Miss Petal needs t’hear a story?” He asked.

She twined her fingers loosely with Harry’s beneath the pillow facing the two loves of her life. She smiled into the darkness as the thunder thrummed around them. She inched forward on the mattress and draped her other arm across their bodies. The cocoon of the warm bed and Harry’s protective body was already making the little one very sleepy.

She glanced at the clock. It was a little after midnight. Still plenty of time to sleep. “What do you think, Miss Petal?” She asked.

Harry felt her nod against his chest. “Mumma’s boo-boo,” she said softly.

It was one of Harry’s least favorite stories. He hadn't heard her tell it once since Violet was born. “Not that one, Vi,” he nearly groaned.

“I’ll tell it,” she offered immediately.

“Kitten, honey,” he warned quietly.

“Shh, it’s late. Let me tell it so we can go to sleep.”

“Daddy doesn’t like that story, Mumma,” Violet explained a knowing tone in her voice.

“Is that so?” She asked, wishing she could see Harry’s facial expression. Having seen it a thousand times over, she knew it was that deep set frown that made her stomach hurt with the need to fix it. It was the same one he had when they visited Anne and Gemma for their first Christmas; agonized over a bad dream from one of the first nights they spent together in his childhood bedroom.

“He doesn’t know it,” Violet explained.

“Really?” She whispered in surprise a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. It was dark, but Harry didn’t need to see her to know there was a smirk on her face. That same knowing one she wore on her lips the day he met her.

Oh, I get it. She had said to him leaning against the door frame of her flowery apartment. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude.

“Maybe we should jus’ go t’sleep, Miss Petal,” Harry warned the little one with the same tone as he used with her mum.

“Not without a story, Daddy,” Violet pleaded. “Mumma will tell it, I always ask her to tell it since you don’t like it.”

Harry sighed, too tired to argue. “Alright.”

Violet rotated so her back was pressed to Harry’s body, caged beneath the arm that previously held his wife in place before the little one woke her. Harry wished he had heard her shout. When Violet came to bed with Harry, they didn’t team up against him and trick him into telling the bad story. Normally Harry left the room. But it was after midnight, and they were snuggled beneath a warm blanket. When he picked her up from her room and brought her back to sleep, Miss Wildflower usually remained asleep—even when Violet insisted on kissing Mumma on the cheek before cuddling into Harry and drifting off to dreamland.

Harry’s whole world was on that bed. There was no way he could leave then. Bad story or not.

She squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly. “This is the abridged version, Vi. No tricks,” she whispered knowingly to her.

“What’s a bridge? Is there a new part?” She asked, excitement in her voice. With each retelling a new little detail was added—it was usually miniscule. Violet was still young. Truthfully, as much as she had joked about telling their future kids about it when it happened, she wasn’t sure she would ever want Violet to know Harry put a bullet in her—even if it was to protect her.

Many of the new details involved solidifying the clues she left behind for Harry to find and how he figured it out. Like a scavenger hunt. Violet had said when she heard about it. She loved to tell the story. Reliving the joy in Harry’s fearlessness even if he hated the story. She thought he was exceedingly brave, even if he didn’t feel that way. To her it showcased all the courageous and strong attributes Harry had and all the things he would always do to protect their little family.

The thunder cracked causing a little yelp to escape her throat. She snuggled further into her Dad’s body. Harry chuckled. “Means shorter story, petal,” he whispered kissing the back of her soft, wispy hair.

“Okay, Mumma,” she said softly with a frown in her voice.

“Once upon a time,” she began. “I was being babysat by a group of really awful people who didn’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “S’this how y’always start it?”

“Shh, Daddy,” Violet chided. “Except Uncle Niall and Daddy,” she completed the opening.

“Right, except Uncle Niall and Daddy," a brief pause. "I was really grumpy," she whispered to the little one. "They wouldn't let me do what I wanted to do."

"Because of the yucky protocols," he could feel Violet nod against him as if she was there whenever she said she hated protocol.

“Kitten, s'not fair,” Harry muttered in warning. The girls ignored him.

“After Daddy had been babysitting me for months and getting me out of trouble way more times than he ever thought he’d have to handle...we fell in love,” she leaned in and peppered Violet's face with little kisses. The little one giggled while Harry felt a flood of warmth take over his body. Harry liked that part. He smirked, remembering all the havoc and chaos that ensued during the first few months of his new job. Falling in love with her was the easiest thing in the world. “But then..." Harry felt nothing but dread replace the warmth he had previously felt. All the reasons he knew he hated this story were coming. "I overheard a conversation from someone that really didn’t like me,” her voice barely reached his ears she spoke so softly. “I had to tell Daddy to leave me alone so he wouldn’t get hurt.” Harry felt the same pang of hurt and anguish that pierced him the day Niall told him all about the letter she had sent. The one that led to the longest week of his life. That week included beating out the second longest week of his life when Miss Violet had the flu and he wanted nothing more than to rip the illness out of her body and put it in his own. “Daddy didn’t like that,” she whispered knowingly into the darkness. Harry was silent.

“Mumma said you cried, Daddy,” Violet's soft tone was hushed quietly.

“That was a secret, petal,” she reminded her back in another whisper.

“Oops,” she giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes ignoring the little exchange.

Even if it was adorable.

Plus, he did cry.

“The bad guys took me to a place to keep me hidden from Daddy. But Daddy is a really good detective, and he would never ever let me leave him for that long,” her voice was so solid. Even as a whisper. Harry felt his throat close around a lump of emotion. If he wanted to protest the story—which now he didn’t—he wouldn’t have been able to. “So Daddy found me,” she continued. “It was a really scary moment. But I knew Daddy would keep me safe. Do you remember how I knew?”

“Daddy wouldn’t let anything hurt you..." Violet responded immediately. It was practiced. Like a mantra. "He won't let anything hurt me either,” Violet nodded firmly. She already knew this part too. Harry twisted the diamond wedding ring on her left finger below the pillow and tried to push the emotion down, desperately trying to remember that this was the bad story. The one he hated to think about.

But he hadn’t heard her tell the story before.

She made it beautiful. Something so awful and something that broke his heart just to think about—she made it bloom into something wonderful.

It was very typical for his Miss Wildflower.

“I got a really bad boo-boo,” she reminded Violet. Harry squeezed her hand and tried not to think too much about it....even though every once in a while, (typically around the anniversary that he was sure he was the only one between the two of them who remembered), Harry still had nightmares of her losing all that blood in a puddle that made him feel nauseous and broken as if it was the day before.

“But, Daddy fixed it,” Violet sounded like she was telling a secret.

“He always does,” she answered.

Harry really thought he would cry now.

“That’s why Mumma has an owie on her leg, Daddy,” Violet whispered.

“Mmm,” as if Harry could forget. She squeezed his hand and smiled in the dark.

“It doesn’t hurt though,” she promised Violet—but Harry knew she was speaking to him and not their daughter.

“Except when it rains,” Harry mumbled bitterly.

“Daddy saved my life,” she ignored her husband's cranky tone. “Every single time I needed him,” the reminder wasn't for Violet, but for Harry. “So thunder?” she shook her head with nonchalant shrug that neither could see. “That’s nothing. Daddy would and could take on a whole storm for you.”

Harry squeezed her hand unable to form adequate words that he loved her so much for making the story sound like he was the hero when he still, very much did not feel like one.

“Finish the story, Mumma,” Violet yawned almost asleep.

“Daddy and I went to Grandma’s and Auntie Gem played with us. We celebrated Christmas and ate lots of yummy cookies. When I got all better we came home and lived happily ever after. Then baby Violet came along and made our lives even better. Now we tell stories together in the dark to keep the thunder away,” her voice got quieter and softer until Violet didn’t respond, her little breath coming out in soft little pants. “I love you, Harry Styles,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry croaked.

She gave his hand a squeeze before drifting back to sleep.

*

It hadn’t rained in a week and while it was still fairly cold out, there wasn’t any rain in the forecast either. Yet she had been limping for over a week. It was nearly the holiday season, which, as lovely as it was, it was also the dreaded anniversary. It had Harry wondering if this was some brand of punishment he could never fully atone for.

Harry had left The Wildflower in the capable hands of his employees making Christmas flower arrangements for dinner parties and gifts in the form of lovely bouquets. She left her green pen and the stack of Bio-Chem exams on the kitchen table to take a break and spend time with Harry and Violet.

Christmas shopping; the goal was to find something for Grandma, Auntie Gem, and Uncle Niall. But someone kept finding presents that she wanted to ask Santa for...in a second list. Naturally, Santa had a hard time denying the little love of anything she wanted. She was certain Harry had already ordered everything on his phone as she pointed to items in windows and in shops.

Santa loved to spoil Miss Petal.

Harry and Violet were ahead of her on the sidewalk while she limped along. “Mumma,” Violet giggled. “You’re taking too long.”

“S’not very nice, petal,” Harry frowned. “Mumma’s leg hurts.”

“I’m okay,” she promised with a smile catching up. “Just moving slow.”

Harry looked her up and down admiring how beautiful and lovely she was, which made her skin warm every inch of her body. She was sure she flushed a dark red on her cheeks which Harry smirked despite the fact he was disappointed in himself for being the reason she was so hurt. “Is it your new tattoo, Mumma?”

Harry stopped in his tracks turning to the woman that not even his young self could have dreamed of if he had met her when they were young. “Mumma doesn’t have tattoos,” Harry murmured looking right at her as he spoke to Violet.

She smiled. “I was waiting till it healed, love bug, remember?”

Violet giggled. “Oops,” she smiled.

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged at Harry. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

It took every bit of self-control to remind himself that he wasn’t in his twenties. He was a parent with a five-year-old in front of him and he couldn't scoop her up off the sidewalk as he had done so many times on the very road and hurry back to the car to get her home and under her skirt.

*

Their imaginative little girl liked to play and didn’t mind playing alone. She would draw, color, and even read the same story books she had been practicing reading with Mumma and Daddy.

Which was particularly great right then. It allowed Harry to slide his wife’s long skirt up over her hips and examine the plastic wrapping around the circumference of her thigh. Harry felt emotion choke his vocal cords. He pressed his lips together and sniffed awkwardly. “S’that y’got there, kitten?” He asked.

“A garden,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hmm?” His fingers pressed gently around the plastic to get a better angle. He was accustomed to tattoos, knew how to take care of them and mind them so as not to irritate the fresh ones. “Miss Wildflower’s got a garden?” He asked, heart skipping beats as he scanned the array of little stick flowers lining her thigh. There were a dozen or so little flowers. But three prominent ones in the foreground. Most importantly, one flower from where the bullet had left a scar. Petals surrounding the circular mark.

“Remember when we helped Vi draw a flower garden?” She asked.

Harry nodded even though he had drawn so many pictures with Violet, he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly. Harry couldn’t move his gaze from her thigh. “Is that...my flower?” He whispered.

She smiled; a light, airy laugh fell from her beautiful lips. “Of course, it is, baby,” she whispered back.

He clenched his jaw trying to keep his emotions from bubbling over. He pressed his fingers lightly over the plastic, brushing softly on the scar that broke his heart each time he looked at it. Harry could hear Violet singing to herself—a song she made up about her dolls. His life was perfect. He had the most lovely daughter.

Perhaps he was the first man in history to have the perfect wife. Gorgeous, intelligent, a wonderful mother, the kindest soul, and the feistiest banter when needed. When he still felt crummy about hurting her, she made it better. Every single time. “I don’t know how m'supposed t'keep loving y’more and more, but y’always manage,” he murmured clearing his throat and cupping her face in his hands.

She smiled up at him, bringing her face closer to his brushing her nose against his. “This really handsome guy on my security detail way back when told me once that wildflowers grow and light up the side of the road even if it’s not a pretty road..." she started. "I didn't know you always left when I told that story," she whispered. "You can't possibly still feel guilty about it, baby. I've..." she shook her head. "You saved my life."

"I almost killed you—it would have killed me."

She smirked. "I have never thought this scar was ugly. But I know you hate it. So I hope you think the wildflowers brighten it for you. It glued us together. Brought us our little petal," she smiled listening to Violet's a verse begin louder than the first few about her new doll—a welcome to her toy box.

Harry felt his heart ache like something he hadn’t ever felt before. “I love you, Miss Wildflower.”

“I love you,” she giggled and leaned in to kiss him way deeper than she should have with an alert five-year-old in the room over.

But she couldn’t help it. With the love of her life attached to her lips there she couldn't bring herself to care at all.

--

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Harry was ready.

He ironed a white button-down shirt and paired it with a blue tie. He put on a grey suitcoat over it to match the slacks he picked out along with black dress shoes that he had long since broken in. In fact, he thought he could probably run a marathon in them if necessary.

He looked over his freshly shaven face, rubbing his jaw with a face lotion his sister got him for his birthday last year. He used the mirror to fix a few astray pieces of hair that refused to sit neatly but not perfectly flat on his head. Part of him wished he didn’t volunteer to do this because his stomach was flipping with anxiety. Sure, he was used to this. Used to the nerves and the first day jitters. It was a good job and was hopefully going to be a great way to see the country. While his English accent made him stick out a bit, it also helped him blend a bit into the background; no one would think that Harry was a special agent there to protect a family member of the US cabinet.

Plus, he was doing Niall a huge favor. Niall was the one that got Harry a job with the Diplomatic Security Service in the first place, so he owed it to Niall to at least try. Make his friend look good and not ruin his reputation. One of Niall’s favorite coworkers was the one that trained Harry to be an agent for the DSS, since Niall wasn’t one. But Niall was the one that had heard horror stories of the girl that wreaked havoc on many of the agents put in place to protect her. Going toe to toe with her meant a more...fulfilling job...after a couple months. At least that’s what Niall had heard and shared with Harry.

“I don’t know what her issue is Harry. But you’re all but DSS’s last hope,” he said. Niall didn’t have to take a round against her. He wasn’t an agent in the protection division. He sat behind a desk going over paperwork. Frequently the paperwork assigning and reassigning the girl’s security detail. But he knew Harry needed a job and he was happy to recommend him. He vouched for him, but Niall was certain the agency would have taken someone off the street and thrown them in the ring at this stage in the game.

Harry was on the younger side. Close to her age, so he had been told in the interview. Maybe that would help. He seemed unfazed. It was just a job. She was just a girl. They had to protect her. But through all he heard, it didn’t sound like they really wanted to protect her all that much anymore.

How much trouble could a twenty-four-year-old graduate biochemistry student get up to?

Niall wished him luck as Harry was debriefed once more about his job. Keep an eye on her, run checks on people she interacts with, make sure she doesn’t die. “Her father is Secretary of State,” they reminded Harry.

Harry nodded. “Got it.”

He took the address that was sent to him into his phone’s GPS and followed the directions to the apartment complex in the small, undercover black SUV issued to him. There was bulletproof glass protecting him from the outside world and tinted windows hiding him through the glass. His mum messaged him.

Good luck, honey bun!

He smirked. Harry may have been twenty-nine, but his Mum’s messages made him feel like a little kid. He adored her, all the way across the pond recognizing what time it was so she could make sure to send him a good luck text as she always had; first day of university, first real job, or even just a trip to the dentist (Harry hated the dentist).

The little apartment complex was inconspicuous. There wasn’t anything special about it, just a brick building with several floors—it couldn’t have been more than 8 apartments. A buzzer door and buttons along the side. The code was sent to him to let himself in.

It’s just a girl. He reminded himself.

Harry took the stairs to the top and fourth floor. It gave him time to calm his nerves and plan his approach based on the way he heard the tales from coworkers. Maybe he would try and befriend her? Harry was down to be friends with her if she wanted. Or maybe that was a bad idea. Maybe he should just try and out-stubborn her. Harry and Gemma used to have contests about who could hold their breath longest when they were young. Harry wasn’t against passing out in the name of winning.

The final steps to her apartment were silent. The current agent at the door looked at Harry with relief. He saluted him, muttered good luck, and hurried back down. Surprised by the immediate departure, Harry gently knocked on the door. The man didn’t even confirm that Harry was his relief. “DSS,” he said quietly to the door.

It took a moment, but at once the door was out of the way. She was shorter than Harry—which arguably wasn’t hard to do with his six-foot frame. Her hair was pulled back by a clip at the back of her head, some strands falling from it to frame her round face. She had a freckle on her brow line and Harry found it unbelievably cute and surprised himself that it was one of the first things he noticed. The space between her eyebrows was pinched together and Harry wanted to smooth it out because even though she was going to be a pain in his ass, she was adorable. Her eyes scanned him quickly and he hoped despite the stories he had heard that she would at least appreciate his professionalism. Her lips were pressed together—not hard, just...resting against one another. Harry was quick to realize it was the least professional thing he could think of: staring at her mouth.

Mum always re-quoted that the eyes were windows to the soul. It was always the first thing Harry noted when he pursued a girl. He loved the idea of gazing into her eyes and trying to find out more about her just through her irises. Maybe if he looked into hers, he would understand why a short little thing like her could scare an entire division of special agents with varying degrees of combat training or intelligence operations.

Her lips pursed into a mocking smile, and she spoke. “Oh, I get it. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude,” she rolled her eyes. Harry raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Not even a hello. No introduction. Feisty. Right away.

“I’m sorry?”

“Daddy dearest only sent you here because the last seven agents couldn’t handle the paperwork that I made them do. I escape a lot.”

Harry sighed. “Thought y’were gonna be easy,” it was a fib. He knew she was going to be difficult but maybe if he played the part she wouldn’t be as tough on him.

“Nope,” she said petulantly, like that was going to piss Harry off. He assumed it worked on the others that came before him.

Harry could play the petulant game. He was the younger sibling after all. He nodded. “Got it. Well. M’name is Harry. I won’t bother you. I’ll be here if you’d like t’get t’know me. Or when y’leave,” he pulled the door shut and stood beside it. Hands behind his back, listening to the silence inside the door.

“Is this a joke?” She asked through the wood after a full minute. He didn’t respond. The door opened.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked without looking at her. He could see her in his peripheral.

“No,” she looked at Harry curiously. “You’re not going to...try?” She wondered.

“Try what?” He asked innocently staring at the wall opposite her door.

She shook her head and sighed. “Uh... I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, uncomfortableness rang in her voice. Harry turned to her, honestly a bit surprised at how readily she apologized. Didn’t seem like something that would be in her repertoire. “Do you want to come in?” She asked. See? Harry thought. She could be perfectly reasonable. “I have seats... you don’t have to stand out here the whole time,” she murmured.

“Thanks, love,” he said politely and followed her through the doorway. He dropped his bag into a seat closest to the door. It just had the department issued computer inside it.

The space was homey. Again, he was surprised by the contrast of the stories he heard versus the sunny outward appearance. He expected rage which he wasn’t sure how that would translate exactly into interior design, but he thought it would be messy. The only hint of a mess was a spot on the coffee table littered with papers and notebooks and a laptop. The grey sofa was also covered with papers and a plain black backpack.

He did not anticipate it being a pretty place. It could rival a florist shop. There were prints of flowers hung on a white mat with black frames at regular spaced intervals. Vinelike garlands decorated with an array of pink flowers of all sorts draped along the slate blue (nearly grey) painted walls near the top of each of the three walls making up the big room—almost like a bordered edge. The fourth wall was the back of the kitchen and contained various appliances leaving no room for flowers, but Harry thought she probably tried when she moved in anyway.

The whole room was open: the sitting room, the dining area, and the kitchen. There were two loveseat sofas, one a modern grey facing the TV. The other perpendicular to the grey one; a solid navy blue that sat in front of three windows. Each window had a sheer grey curtain that matched the sofa, draped with more vines of flowers across all three windows of course. Between the TV and the grey sofa was a grey coffee table and besides the papers and notebooks, there was of course a little vase with pink sunflowers. A large bookshelf was to the left of her TV stand.

In the back corner beside the door was a round dining table and four mismatched dining chairs where Harry had dropped his bag. Another little vase sat in the middle of the table with more pink flowers. The kitchen smelled yummy. Like bacon. That was as much as he could see from the entryway. There was a short little hall but hidden behind a wall he couldn’t see around but assumed a bedroom and a bathroom were around there.

“S’a very nice place,” he murmured.

She was still staring at him as if he just said he liked to eat handfuls of dirt and drink from the river. “Thank you,” she said kindly after a beat of silence. Like she thought maybe it was a trick. “I...I don’t really have any plans tonight. I’ll be studying for an exam I have tomorrow...you could honestly probably leave if you wanted to,”

He thought she sounded genuine but given all the stories, he wasn’t sure. “I’d rather stay put. I can go back in the hall if that would make you more comfortable,” he suggested. “But may I see the rest of the place or would y’rather I wait till later? When you’re less busy?” He asked.

She blinked almost surprised. Harry imagined she wasn’t used to privacy but since he wanted her to like him, he thought respecting her boundaries was going to be the easiest way to do it. Most of her previous details were older. They probably had children of their own around her age or younger and thought treating her like one of their own and bossing her around would be easy. In all the meetings Harry attended and interviews and explanations of the girl before him not once did they seem to note she was an adult.

“Oh...uh...yeah,” she mumbled and gestured for him to walk down the hall. He was right: a bedroom and a bathroom, but he was surprised to find a second bedroom. It didn’t seem like the space was big enough from the outside. She opened all the doors. “This one’s the spare,” she said and showed him the room with nothing but a bed and small three drawer dresser and a chair that looked like it belonged in a college dorm in the corner. There was a door leading to a closet (he assumed). Compared to the main room, it was lackluster given there wasn’t a single flower in the room.

Along the same wall was the bathroom. The room was the same slate grey as the sitting room. The shower curtain was white, with a pattern of pink flowers. The fuzzy bathmat and hand towels matched the pink flowers. A little flowerpot was placed on a shelf hanging above the toilet, but Harry could have predicted at this point that pink flowers would be in the little pot. A chic gold brushed mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet hung over the sink with the same gold brushed faucet fixtures. A linen closet opposite the light switch right as you walked in, no door to it so he could see her well-stocked array of bathroom necessities, extra towels, and cleaning supplies.

“My room,” she shrugged and pushed the door open. Another bookshelf was draped with green vines. Fascinating. She liked to read a lot, it seemed. A long dresser was beneath the window along the back wall. A nightstand with a biochemistry textbook and a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was closest to the door near the top of her bed. A weird pair of books for late night reading, he thought. Harry would have to pick the non-textbook one up at the bookstore later. Find another way to relate to her. This room was painted a light blue—so light it was almost white. More vines and flowers. Her bed was made neatly. This time slate-blue-almost-grey color again. Once more pink flowers.

“Are y’a botanist?” He asked, turning back for the main room. He didn’t want to spend a lot of time staring at her room and make her uncomfortable.

She smirked, closing the door following behind him. “Just love color and flowers,” she shrugged. “The grey makes it pop,” she explained. “But I wanted a little bluer for my bedroom. Didn’t want it to seem all dreary.” It was the furthest from dreary.

“S’lovely.”

“Well thanks,” she repeated, just as graciously as before.

She sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “You can make yourself at home, there’s some drinks in the fridge—non-alcoholic of course, since you’re on the job, but I wouldn’t tell anyway,” she murmured and began scribbling on her papers almost instantly.

Harry felt deeply surprised. He pulled his laptop out and checked the emails. The internal messaging system alerted him that Niall had sent a message. How is she?

Fine. He responded.

Harry’s phone vibrated in his pocket immediately. It was Niall. “FINE?” He asked in shock.

Harry shrugged. “Yes.”

Niall released a breath through his lips in surprise. “I can’t believe it. Usually she has people begging for reassignment after five minutes.”

Harry looked over at the girl working at the coffee table. He looked back at his laptop. “Don’t know,” he murmured.

“You can tell whoever you’re talking to that I’m not the bitch everyone makes me out to be if you’re fucking nice to me,” she grumbled.

Harry smirked. “I like her,” he said loud enough for her to hear. But she didn’t pause at all. Nor did she stray from her position or what she was doing to notice Harry’s kind comment.

*

She left Harry in the main room. He would stay until midnight when some woman would take over the detail. She didn’t hate the woman. She at least allowed her privacy when she wanted it. But she was surprised how much she liked Harry and they’d hardly interacted beyond an exchange of pleasantries. Him leaving in a couple hours seemed unfair.

Harry already had her phone number and he told her he would send her a message, so she had his in case of an emergency. “Not sure what emergency exists in my bedroom,” she muttered. He smirked and shrugged.

“Protocol, love,” he said. So he was one of those. She thought.

She liked his accent. Honestly, she liked everything about Harry. He was gorgeous. It was shocking. There was a moment where she forgot she was supposed to be agitated by her security detail when he introduced himself. It was almost instinctive that her hand wanted to reach out and play with his brown locks that curved every which way around his head. His eyes were this piercing green that she felt the desire to repaint her room the same emerald color. She nearly had to crane her neck to see all six feet of him. And in a simple suit, he was just...beautiful.

But then he pulled the door shut not taking her shit for even a second. Her brain felt out of sorts as she tried to reconcile the attitude, she wanted to have against the one she felt. Not once did someone just back off her. Maybe having someone closer to her age was the trick. But she didn’t want a security detail. Right?

Harry was so utterly polite, complimenting her place, respecting her boundaries as much as possible given his position. Ugh. He was ruining all the hard work she had put in to be a bitch toward DSS.

Fortunately, her phone vibrated as she closed the door to her bedroom. It was a friend from one of her classes telling her they were having a round of drinks before their final exam in the morning. She didn’t want to go. It was ten o’clock and her brain was exhausted from the marathon studying all afternoon and evening with her only breaks introducing herself to Harry and when she ordered them pizza.

Harry insisted on paying. Another weird notion from him. She never really ordered food for her security details, but she always did offer, and she always paid. Her mother taught her to have manners and be polite, even if she was mad—it would make her more amicable. However, she thought a lot of her previous agents assumed she was trying to poison them when she ordered them food. Harry didn’t talk much to her while they ate. He asked her what she was studying and if she felt confident about the exam.

She worked her ass off to be successful in her classes. She was one of the top students, she knew it. But everyone else saw it as the Secretary of State’s doing, not her own. But yes, she was confident about the exam.

But now it was 10:04 and she wanted to be included. She didn’t want to come off as “Daddy’s little princess” and the goody-two-shoes she was accustomed to being. Biting her lip, she pressed her ear to her door. She couldn’t hear Harry at all. Harry seemed cooler than her other details, she could probably just ask him to take her and hang back as far as humanly possible. He told her he was going to read the files on the people she surrounded herself with while she went to sleep.

He would be back first thing in the morning for a full day of watching her every movement. She quietly changed into an easy, comfy outfit. Jeans, t-shirt, her most comfortable broken-in Keds. She glanced at the mirror on the back of her closet and put on a couple dabs of concealer around her eyes and a few swipes of mascara. It was one round of drinks; she would be back before Harry left his post and she wouldn’t even have to worry about locking up her apartment. She shoved her ID and her credit card into the back of her phone case and then put it in her back pocket.

Carefully, she opened the window pausing around the part that always groaned in the humidity from the outside August air. She quietly pulled the screen in and laid it on her bed. With cat-like soft feet, she got out onto the platform of the fire escape. Closing the window behind her, once more minding the swelled portion. She made her way down the fire escape. The walk to the bar was less than half a mile.

As she turned the corner of the building to walk along the streetlamp-lit roads she was pushed suddenly and almost violently against the building. She nearly lost her footing, but the person kept her upright and was surprisingly gentle with her before she slammed into the bricks. Her lungs inhaled, ready to let out a scream, but a hand was covering her mouth at the same time causing her heart rate to skyrocket. “Seriously?” Harry’s accent cut through her terrified mind.

The terror seeped out of her mind as anger coursed through her. Maybe the close in age thing wasn’t going to be a good plan after all. If this was one of her other agents, they wouldn’t have known she was gone until she had finished her drink and was walking back home. She shoved his hand from her mouth, and she glared at him. Her body was shaking with her fight or flight response and a lot rage. “What?” She snapped and started marching down the road.

“Y’could’ve jus’ asked,” he called from behind her. “S’dangerous t’walk alone this late at night.”

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “No one is going to try and kidnap me for political purposes on a Wednesday night while I get a drink with friends,” she told him.

“Love, s’not what I meant,” he said gently. The kindness in his tone made her attitude waver again. But she was mad that he caught her. That never happened. She didn’t want to be sneakier. She thought she might actually like Harry. He even said he liked her to whoever he was on the phone with—that made her heart warm despite how she pretended not to hear. If Harry liked her, it would be much harder to maintain the isolated, bitchy attitude she gave all the other security agents.

“What’s there to worry about? Someone shoving me against a building and covering my mouth?” She grumbled.

“I didn’t want t’scare you; I was jus’ trying t’show you that someone could’ve snuck up,” he was keeping his distance from her, but she listened intently for the practically soundless footsteps. The only reason she could hear him was because it rained and made the little scratchy pebbles and dirt crunch under his feet ever so slightly.

“By scaring me,” she stated, still not looking at him.

He sighed. “M’sorry. I thought...” he trailed off. She didn’t make him finish his sentence. She thought too—he knew the stories of her, but he thought he would be different. They walked probably two tenths of a mile in silence. “M’sorry, love,” he repeated. “S’my first day. Didn’t want you t’get hurt.”

She sighed. He did sound remorseful. And she still kind of liked him. Mostly because as tragic as it sounded, he seemed to be more worried about her safety as a female walking dark streets and not a political official’s daughter. “It’s alright,” she mumbled. “I should have just asked,” she agreed a bit begrudgingly. “Just figured it was one drink and I’d be home before you left.”

He didn’t say anything. She stopped in her tracks. She could see the sign for the bar where her friends were down the long street before her. She turned to Harry. He looked relieved.

They gazed at each other a moment. Harry would be a worth adversary, she thought to herself. It was like he heard her thoughts because his next words almost tried to refute the idea. “I don’t like t’do paperwork,” he told her those pretty green eyes focused on her intently. He was serious. His jaw flexed tightly.

She smirked. “No promises.”

*

She spotted Harry at the end of the stairway, leaning against the wall as she exited the building where she had taken her exam. He had to be sweating in the suit slacks and button down—even if the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His left arm had several tattoos lining his arm while the right only had one or two. He wasn’t wearing a tie today nor a suit coat—she wanted to tell him she didn’t really give a shit what he wore, but he seemed the professional type. Being the middle of August, it was hot as could be. He didn’t seem to care, glancing every which way through a pair of black sunglasses. She couldn’t see his eyes and she suddenly realized she missed seeing the green even though she’d only gotten one good look at them.

Unfortunately, in all her ogling she missed the last two steps sending her straight into someone in front of her and she fell to the ground on the hot sidewalk, scraping her knee like a child. Fortunately, as a biochem major, she had to wear pants whenever setting foot in the lab so the yoga pants she wore—while hot for a summer day—probably saved her just a bit from a worse cut. It did cause a few tears in the fabric and her knee would surely bruise.

Harry started to rush over but the guy she bumped into helped her back to standing. “You okay there?” He asked.

Harry stood back a few feet as the guy helped. “Uh...yeah. Sorry, I missed the last step,” she said with a slight awkward laugh. She brushed the dirt from her hands that were also scraped as well as the length of her forearm since she was allowed to wear short sleeves (especially since it was exam day).

“Oh hey! You’re—” As soon as she realized he recognized her she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Sorry,” she hurried off, limping slightly as she realized she really smacked her knee and the way it scraped definitely made it sore to bend. She didn’t want to be recognized. She wanted to be herself and not have this political precursor follow her everywhere.

They were making their way back toward the SUV Harry had parked nearby when he had dropped her off this morning so she wouldn’t be late. Good luck he had called out when she closed the door behind her. “Are y’alright?” Harry’s accent was a few paces behind her. She felt embarrassed so she didn’t turn around. She nodded.

“Yeah. Just a scrape. Want to go home and take a nap in the AC.”

“Can’t argue with y’there,” he chuckled.

She smirked; glad he couldn’t see her. “You don’t have to wear a suit all the time,” she told him. “It’s a thousand degrees out. You’ll die of a heat stroke before you can protect me.”

He seemed to ignore her joke, but she was still a bit genuinely concerned he would overheat. “How was your exam?” He asked.

She turned finally and looked at him. He stopped short, still a few steps behind her. They probably looked odd beneath the shaded trees. Both dressed not for a summer day. Harry looked threatening, surprisingly. He didn’t when she saw him in her apartment or even when he walked her home at eleven last night. He looked like a regular guy even if he was overdressed in a half suit. She noted the gun in its holster on his hip and she wondered how good of a shot he was. Not because she thought he would be bad or because she thought he would ever need to shoot it in her presence but because she was genuinely curious about him. She still had her backpack on of course. Her knee bent slightly with a tear in her pants. Quite the pair.

His glasses were still covering his eyes, hiding probably the most assured way to understand what he was thinking. But despite all she thought about the DSS, Harry was nice. Even if it had only been the inside of 24 hours.

It was shame she was a bitch to her security detail.

“Uh...easy,” she said. “A lot of my friends complain about studying and it sucks, but obviously it was worth it,” she shrugged. “I only struggled with one long response question, and I knew that I would going into it,” she explained.

“S’good, m’happy for you,” a little smile twinged at his lips and he sounded so genuine. It surprised her. Like he was really taking an interest in her.

But then she remembered this was his job and he probably couldn’t give two shits about her or exam. She tilted her head and scanned the man before her as if that negative thought would reveal itself. Of course, it didn’t. The glasses were hiding his true emotions. She would have to figure out Harry later. It was too hot, even in the shade.

Silently she turned on her heel looking at the air-conditioned oasis of that SUV. Harry opened the door for her, something she was not used to before closing her neatly and safely inside. Once Harry opened his door she asked her question. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

“Coffee?”

“My treat,” she smirked.

“I thought you wanted a nap?”

“Yeah, but I have to work later and if you drink coffee before a nap, the coffee will kick in right when you wake up.”

He tilted his head at her before he pulled into the road. “Didn’t know y’have a job.”

“It’s remote,” she shrugged.

“Oh.”

“So coffee?”

“If that’s what you want, love.”

Harry drove in silence to the closest coffee shop he could find, and she got out of the car quickly before stopping at the driver’s window. “Can I get you anything?” She asked kindly.

“Uh...an iced tea would be nice,” he said curiously.

She was not the bitch everyone made her out to be. “Sure,” she said and rushed inside. Harry kept the window rolled down and could see her perfectly through the window. It took no more than ten minutes, and she was back at the car handing him iced tea through his open window before she got into the car. Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of her. But he was sure that he liked her. She was funny. In her own sort of way. He watched her sip her drink as she settled back into the car.

It would be fun.

Protecting her.

“I could send you a picture if you’d like to stare at me longer,” she blinked in excess at him. Fluttering her pretty eyelashes as her quick witted tone pierced his thoughts.

Right?

--

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