Strangers

A Continuation

A/N: Soooo I know I said epilogue was left but when am i ever conventional and do as I say I'm going to? I wanted to write this because I had a brief moment of insanity last week where I forgot it was over and I started planning the next chapter in my head, and I thought this was a nice idea and I've ALWAYS hated fics that just sort of end and you wanna see them be happy together and not just epilogue bullshit but genuinely the straight away after the big moment thing, happy. Ya know? So this is, what I like to call, a continuation. Sort of like, if it hadn't finished, this is what the next chapter would be. Epilogue 1 & 2 (and potentially 3) are still to come. 

The bed in the new house had been successfully christened- shortly after the desk in the study, and the bench in the kitchen. I’d had little time to admire the perfection that was the decorating job he’d done. My eyes were finding it difficult to look at anything other than him- but for the most part, I was impressed. It felt like home. He’d had me in mind when choosing everything, the white picket fence was more than I could have imagined, and Gemma’s description of the likeness to a dollhouse was pretty spot on. I couldn’t have asked for more. I would’ve been happy living in a shack, as long as I was living in it with Harry. But this was perfect.

“I think you look even prettier sleeping in this bed.” Harry’s morning voice- the best sound in the world- echoed in my ear, waking me from the post-coital slumber my body had begged for.

“Hmm, I think you look even uglier.” I tease, rolling over so my chest rested on his stomach and I could push back his hair off his face, only for it to fall down again.

“Baby, why are you so mean to me?” He pouts, his eyes narrowing at me and his voice laced with playful vulnerability.

“Because you make it so easy.”

“And how would one make that hard?”

“I’m not sure, it’s too early to think of such schemes. My mind is focused on a more pressing matter,” I look at him intensely, and his eyes wander from my lips to my eyes and back again, his hand choosing now to reach around and stroke from the top of my spine to the small of my back, setting my skin on fire in the wake of his gentle fingers.

“Me leaving today?” He questions, his lips forming a flat line, his eyes looking perpetually nervous.

“Hmm, I was thinking more along the lines of food- oh fuck- I’m meant to be having breakfast with your darling sister and Linda.”

“Linda’s in town?”

“Yeah, she’s back and forth a lot at the moment with the move.”

“Isn’t she pregnant?”

“Hmm, you can still fly in first trimester. Actually I think you can fly in every trimester but not sure why you'd want to, second trimester is safest apparently.”

“That’s good to know.” He smirks, his hands cradling my ass and pulling me so I’m vertically lying on his chest, instead of half on half off diagonally.

“Mm, don’t get any ideas mister.” I scrunch my face up at him and poke his nose gently.

“So, breakfast?” He asks, getting the sense I want to dismiss that topic of conversation.

“Yeah, it’ll be too late to bail now; they’ll be waiting for me in like twenty minutes.”

“Then I guess you should go.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you.”

“Then I guess I should come.”

“But…” I hold up my left hand, drawing attention to the sparkling dollar signs dancing on my ring finger in the form of an engagement ring.