One Direction Imagines And Preferences Book 4

Exam Week - h

Harry: "Babe, I'm home," Harry calls out, shouldering his way through the door with his arms full of two large grocery bags. He uses his boot clad foot to kick the door to the garage shut behind him before he ventures further into the home he'd recently purchased. He passes through the mud room into the white kitchen where he sets the bags down on the quartz counter top you'd picked out while he glances around the open floor plan to see if he can locate you. "Babe... hello," he calls out louder, grabbing things out of the bags to start putting them in their proper place while waiting for a response. After he's done, Harry leans against the island in front of him while he looks through the open floor plan of his farmhouse but he can't spot you on the first floor. He notices that the barnyard doors he'd installed at the front corner of the house to make a make-shift office are slightly opened so he makes his way there. Pushing the door open, he finds you at the desk. There are several open books on the large desk, passages highlighted in pink and yellow. There's a notebook and note cards at your side but you're sound asleep, slumped against the desk top. Harry ventures closer, careful not to step on the one floor board that squeaks, to investigate what you've surrounded yourself with. He reads the book titles to himself and then suddenly feels like an ass for not realizing that it's exam week at your university. He's been so bogged down with band stuff he'd forgotten about your final week of exams. The last exam week you'd ever have. Your graduation was next weekend, something Harry could never forget even if he tried. He's been preparing for your graduation for years now, too proud at your accomplishments that he feels far outweigh his own. Being a college graduate meant more than being a pop star in his eyes. He'd been on this collegiate journey with you from the beginning. He'd been there for every exam, every failed test (which were rare), every meltdown, and every research paper. He'd been there for internships and inappropriate lab partners. Harry had never been more proud of someone in his life than when you'd gotten a job offer at the London Museum as the display coordinator. For once, you'd be the one traveling the world for work and Harry would gladly follow you anywhere and look at any ancient artifact as long as you continued to have him. This had been your most challenging year with your senior thesis class but Harry had offered all the help he could provide. He'd even taken you to Moscow over Christmas break in preparation for your class on Russian history during World War II. From the looks of it, you're in the midst of writing your senior research paper on the lack of gender equality in the armed forces of a war-torn Russia during World War II. Reaching over your slumped form, Harry signs in to your laptop to ensure that your work is saved before he slides the desk chair out far enough for him to lift you from the seat. You mumble incoherently about aviation regiments while Harry cradles you to his chest and shushes you. He makes his way up the stairs to the master bedroom, intent to put you bed for a few hours rest before he allows you to continue the final draft of your final paper. "I have to finish my paper," you mumble tiredly even as you snuggle deeper into the soft white sheets. "Later, take a nap and rest for now. I'll wake you in a few hours love, promise," Harry assures you quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you surrender to his suggestion. Several hours later, Harry sits across from you on the sectional as he edits your paper. He's always known you were smart but as he reads over your research paper analyzing the lack of equality among the sexes in the Russian army, Harry finds himself once again astounded by your knowledge on the subject. He edits out the few grammatical errors you'd made and he's rewarded with a home cooked meal later that night.