JAWLLINES MASTERLIST

Harry is smitten with a human, and Y/N hates cranberry juice (a lot) - part two

Y/N sleeps a lot, Harry realizes.
It's actually sort of cute; reminds him of how much of a kitten she really could be. From naps, to overdramatic stretching, wide mouth yawns and nipping at his fingers if close enough to her mouth. The way he could get her to purr (not exactly rumble with delight, but she leans into him and hums low) with his fingers gentle and scratching at her scalp. How she'd basically curl up on his side (if not climbing into his lap), full on fetal position underneath covers with her head on his thigh.
Precious, really, he thinks she is. Often does he want to share this with somebody, tell them how damn cute she could be, but anytime he gets the urge to start gushing to Liam or Louis (who would inevitably tell Liam), he has to catch himself. Somethings can just be left between the two of them, he decides.
Nobody knows about Y/N, nor do they know why Harry hasn't been as frequent a visitor at the club, but nobody questions him. Often does Harry have random bouts of essential solitary, when he locks himself in his study, takes care of family business (which ranges from the human to vampire forms) and comes out to eat and sleep. They presume that it's one of these times, believing as the whether gets colder, he's shutting himself inside of a warm yet empty house, left to his own devices for a while and it's best not to mess with him while this is happening. Everybody is at least partially aware of how family business agitates Harry, and nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of misguided anger.
Des runs two different companies in their entirety; one being an old, run of the mill company regarding large department stores that rake in billions a year due to appealing atmosphere, quality products, and affordable prices. The other, was maintaining vampire relations, settling gang disputes, stepping in when needed during unnecessary battles, maintaining good contact with royalty all over the world, and anything run in the night was most likely their doing. Harry handles a little of each, enough so that he can step in when needed but not over run Des' clout too much. Which Harry didn't mind any seeing as much of both the businesses he found tedious and unamusing, though he was the face of most of it. He would be the one to step in on meetings, consult with others, do any other sort of hullabaloo asked of him, mostly because of his appearance.
It's not that they were a very vain race, it's just easier for Harry to manipulate those he needs to when they're attracted to him.
Y/N shuffles at his side, face dug into a portion of his throat so he feels warm puffs of breath against his skin. Mindlessly does he pull the blanket closer around her body, obscuring her ability to smell like anybody but him. The possessive, protectiveness he felt for her doesn't brew gradually, rather as it had hit him quickly and with intent. Since the first day when he'd stopped Louis from griping at her, he realizes that it almost felt as if he were meant to care about her so much. Like some unspoken bond that Harry was far too nervous to delve back in those books to discover. The one he'd read last time still remained in the library, shut up in the old, finished oak desk where it was probably set for collecting dust.
Harry doesn't like too think too much about what they are, but when she's asleep like this, he has a lot of time to think, and god she really does sleep loads. It makes him wonder if when he's not here she isn't sleeping as well, having disclosed to him that it felt like eyes were on her a lot of the time – if Harry feared things, he figures that would really set him off the mark a bit. This would mean that when Harry did come around she so trustingly put all her faith into him, that if a threat began fermenting he'd take care of it, and she would be safe. And while that's a lot of weight on Harry's shoulders, it's nothing that he can't manage, and is even sort of cute when he thinks about it.
Sometimes, Harry tries to put himself in Y/N's shoes, but it's proven to be difficult. Viewing this from the other side is like trying to physically put his foot into a pair of Y/N's flats or sneakers, which he doesn't see working out. She has no idea who Harry is, really what he works as apart from the short answer of "run a company" to at least partially explain his wealth, and she'd known that he'd been following her for a little while before they started seeing each other frequently. Really, Harry hasn't told her much about him besides bits and pieces he opens up here and there, but it's hard to tell her who he is when he can't tell her what he is.
And yet she still has such conviction that what he says is true. Didn't even question him when he said he saw something dark following her, and to keep it away he would have to give her "hickeys" and be around her often, so it didn't smell her. It sounded so bizarre, Harry knows if he were in her place he wouldn't believe any of it for a second, but she so blindingly trusts him. Willing goes home with him, cuddles up with him...it's almost like something inside of her was telling her to trust him, whether it be a gut feeling or he really should expand on looking into the possibility of an unforeseen bond.
Harry shifts a little, meaning to scoot up so he could sit. They were at his house tonight which did not prevent a scatter of books, notecards, papers and pens strewn over the mattress (now shoved to the floor by the studier herself).  After a suitable amount of her panicking over an upcoming test, Harry told her that was enough for tonight and beckoned her to wrap up in his blanket because her skin had been riddled in goosebumps. Probably from the closed vent in his room, which he'd only noticed once she'd swaddled herself in the cover and pressed into his side, more or less demanding he re-watch Annalise Keaton's "hijinks" on How to Get Away with Murder, a show the both of them enjoyed. 
It was so easy to be with her; he'd forgotten how simple humans can be. There complexities limit once you've been around them for a hundred some odd years. With vampires, given they don't need to sleep, when they actually do around their significant other it's just a way of saying they don't want to see their mug for a while. When Y/N sleeps it's not because she doesn't want to see him, it's because she literally needs to, and absence makes the heart grow fonder they say, even if it's only for a few hours at a time. Once she wakes it's with a small smile at the realization that he's there and Harry fills up with such a warmth he doesn't know how to explain. That's why he can't help himself but to wake her up a few times in the night, just to see her for a minute, and she falls back asleep so easily it's insane.
Not to mention she eats all of his food with happy hums, since there is no alternative for her to real food. No snippy, "Why're you cooking anyways? Call the feeders over, stop wasting your time" 's that Harry was all too accustomed to hearing. Her skin wasn't cold; touching it was like touching his own lightly heated furnace, like it'd been kissed by the gods with sun that she could distribute in small amounts for those who were born chilly. She dances silly, like nobody is watching, she sings off key and loud, she grumps at him for small things sometimes but ultimately is thrown into a fit of giggles if he pouts and tickles her.
Things were nice; Harry never knew being with a human could be so...so invigorating.
Harry moves them so he can sit up against the headboard, moving her so her head was on his thigh which was a favorite position for them. He pushes hair from her face, holding her face in the palm of his hand for a moment. Y/N's lips have been on his mind since she'd kissed him, mind reeling with the memories of them pillowy soft, and honeyed. They hadn't kissed since but the ghost of her lips haunts him regularly, phantom kisses making him breathless. It was unlike any kiss he'd ever received; though it wasn't prim and perfect, she was urgent and wanting and grabby, and it calmed her down and she wanted  more.
Often does Harry think about doing it again. Without her being sleep riddled and frightened, maybe after she'd just gotten through studying or something, he could swoop down and kiss her. Or maybe he could take her out, do beneath the stars like the true cliché he's becoming – the parallels between them and the whole lion and the lamb and every fantasy teen drama ever were too strong to ignore. With the twinkling autumn sky glittering in her irises as he urges nearer, lying his lips against hers gently, letting out every pent up feeling he'd been holding onto.
Their first kiss was nice but Harry had to hold back so much; if he hadn't, then he would've been too rough he fears, or resorted to getting her naked. So he let her have her fun while he had his own muted pleasure, digging his toes into the mattress to stop from flipping them over and licking into her mouth more arduously, digging his print into her hips with eager fingers.
Harry sighs, his head knocking back into the headboard.
If only she weren't human...things would be much easier then.
                                                                               .            .              .
"A what?"
Y/N had been trying and failing at doing yoga to try and work out some kinks in her neck and the stiff muscles she had all over.  After finding a seemingly trustworthy video, she soon found out that she was terrible at following direction, and coupling that with the way she slammed her knee on the coffee table, its safe to say she gave up. Flopping down with a huff on the floor, she'd resorted to pulling on her big cozy slippers and taking a small little package of zebra cakes. Planning to watch a little TV until Harry came over, and when he'd called she thought it was to ask what'd she wanted for dinner today, when he'd said...
"A date. I want to take you on a date." He sounded very nonchalant about it, which was in perfect contrast to the excitement and fear starting to bubble up inside of Y/N, "Not tonight, but tomorrow morning."
"So are you not coming over tonight?" She asks, because if he didn't then that meant she could freak out in peace and shave her legs (maybe), and call Niall and ask him how the hell she was supposed to act on a date with a man as pretty and enigmatic as Harry. Y/N had always given Niall predate pep talks, telling him what to do and what not to even think about doing, or saying (he's got very loose lips, and sometimes says too much too soon. It's what drew Y/N to him but it's what pushes others away), so she doesn't think he'd have any problem doing the same. Even though she'd spent a majority of her time with Harry nowadays, a date was different it felt like. It didn't feel like she could mess up in the comfort of her own dorm, or wrapped up in his nice cozy sheets on his terribly comfortable couch – but it felt like she could mess up at dinner or a movie; maybe that'd be when Harry found that one quality she might have that would be unredeemable to him.
Harry is quiet for a moment, and she hears a blinker like he's switching lanes, "If I don't come over tonight, you'll never go to sleep."
"Hey –"
"I know you Petal, and from that shake in your voice I know you're likely to be nervous," Y/N pouts, brows furrowed, "And well, I'd fear I'd miss you too much if I was forced a night away."
This makes her face heat, fighting a smile that was threatening her lips at his words. He made her feel so giddy sometimes, without even trying, "Okay." She says gently, voice light and irritates her almost how easily he could get her all mushy, and her fingernails dig into her palms, "But you have to cook if you're going to watch me like a hawk."
"I've been meaning to try this hash recipe. Does that sound nice Baby?"
"No fair," she huffs at him, "You never let me be mad at you for even a second."
Harry laughs; the sound, as always, enthralls her, "I'll see you soon."
It's crazy how easily she fell into this relationship – or whatever they called it – with Harry. He came over pretty much every night, made her dinner, encouraged her to take needed study breaks, and cuddled her to sleep. Comforted her when she needed it and played with her hair when she asked, looked at her when she was talking like he'd never seen someone speak before and it was the most riveting experience he'd had to date. He'll give her that smile that she hopes is reserved for her, and these sweet murmurs and coos, and he refers to her as a kitten a lot which she doesn't mind either (even though she pretends to). He even kisses her on the forehead when he thinks she's asleep sometimes, and it takes everything in her not to smile.
Thinking about him really just makes her so giddy she could squeal, really.
Though it'll never slip her mind, that aching feeling that Harry isn't exactly normal, but she can't find it in herself to care. He protects her and cares about her and she trusts him with her whole heart, really, she wishes she could understand it.
Y/N presses her fingers to her temples, she's got a math test to study for but her brain is just so clouded with Harry it seems almost impossible to push through the fog. However, despite her thoughts weighed down by him she grabs her notebook, a ruler, and two different pens before rolling out the tense muscle in her neck. She'd gotten this far with all good grades and she'd be damned if she let a boy come in between that, even if he was as cute and sweet as Harry was. And she likes studying, she really does, there's something so fulfilling about it when she has a whole set of notes done and she fully understands a concept.
But as soon as Harry knocks on the door an hour or so later she shoves all of it away, scrambling up to answer.
Thank god that's over.
                                                                       .                      .                      .
The next morning, Y/N is woken up to the smell of sizzling bacon and pancakes heavy with syrup.  It tickles her nose until she's pushing herself up from the mattress, knuckling at sleep dense eyes until her vision was clear and she realizes that she's in her room. She looks at her clock like she does every morning when she wakes up, and there's a notecard placed gently on top of it.
Come get your breakfast sleepyhead. -H
Still not all the way awake, Y/N's trying to make sense of the note as Harry pops his head into her door, "Good Morning Beautiful!" He moves towards the curtains, slinging them open to let light flood the room and she squints against it, "C'mon, let's get to stepping!"
She stays sitting, reaching her hands to the ceiling and her feet toward the opposite wall, stretching, "S'bad luck to see me before the date I saw?"
"That's a wedding," he reminds her, holding out his hand for her to take and he effortlessly pulls her up and out of the bed, steadying her when she wobbles. His hand comes in contact with just the side of her bum when all she had was panties on and it was enough to make her quiver, even more so when his hand slid up towards her hip instead and he gave her a soft little squeeze, "'sides, this is a whole day extravaganza, I forgot to tell you. Starting with breakfast."
Y/N can't help but stretch again as he holds onto her, her body knocking into his slightly, "Wha's after breakfast?" she asks through a yawn, and he sly smile is teasing his mouth.
"It's a surprise," he all but giggles when a frown sets on her face, "Now go get showered."
"Don't tell me what to do." Y/N answers and Harry rolls his eyes, gives her a playful swat on the bum before uttering something about tending to his food once more.
Toddling her way into the bathroom, Y/N notices that there is already a towel and washcloth set up for her and she bites back a smile. He's so oddly prepared in every which way, thinking nearly ten steps ahead of her at all times. She really wouldn't be surprised if he had what she wanted to wear today laying out on the bed waiting for her, since he had a knack for knowing what she was planning on putting on. With a few modifications to how the weather was planned out that day (like adding a hat or omitting a winter scarf because "it's not that cold, Petal, don't be a wimp."), he was normally pretty spot on with her wanted attire.
The shower pellets hot water droplets that either cling or ricochet off of her skin, wiping away any gritty, grimy feeling sleep had left her feeling heavy with. And since the day is supposed to be a little colder than previous days she chooses her vanilla body wash – a warmer scent for a chilly day. It's one of the things Y/N finds herself doing often, picking a type of body wash for the weather outside, but it's something she'd grown accustomed to since she got to college and would smell completely like her. Sure, she might have smelled like herself and her house when she was in high school, but now she smells a hundred percent like her. So she takes pride in smelling her best; remembers vividly the first time Niall had told her how good she smelled and it left her in a good mood the rest of the day. 
And dare she say she loves it when Harry burrows his face into her neck, just how he kisses her forehead, when he thinks she's asleep.  That's when he does a lot of cute things, she notices, sometimes murmuring to the TV if he's watching it or shuffling them so they're a little closer to each other, or sometimes he sneezes which shouldn't be so adorable but for such an often stony (besides around her), broad, business boss man he's got the highest sneezes when he's trying to keep them quiet for her sake.  It makes her want to bop him on the nose with her finger and kiss him again and again and again.
While she towels off, Y/N hums the Ghostbuster's theme and lets her mind wander to what he could possibly be taking her to do all day. It was a mighty big step for them, actually venturing outside, because they've yet to do so unless it was to get food on the way to Harry's or the rides back to her dorm. It makes her nervous, really, given she knows that it should be the opposite way around – easier in public and harder in private – but there is something so satisfying about being with just Harry. When Y/N is with him, it almost feels like nobody else really matters, which would explain why by the time he leaves in the morning she's got so many unanswered messages. It's just her, and Harry, and her cat fumbling about.
And that weird dark feeling that seems to be breathing down her neck often, but she shakes it off, tying the towel tight around her body to make her way back out into her room, skin immediately rising with goosebumps from the cool air. On her bed lie a pair of leggings, her shoes, and a sweater that appeared to be Harry's was waiting for her to put on.
Y/N smiles.
                                                                             .                .                     .
When Y/N padded into her living room in his sweater, Harry could've cooed and moaned all in the same breath. Right adorable she was, as always, and the thought of her wearing his clothes did things to him he couldn't explain. His hand tensed abruptly around his plate to the point he could hear a small crack, but thankfully her ears weren't in tune enough to catch it too. Or if they were, she wasn't acting as if anything was unusual, getting to her table with a small skip in her step before plopping down at the seat with food set in front of it, still steaming. Reaching a sweater covered fist to rub over one eye as she grins up at him, "Thank you Harry!" Though her face immediately drops when he sets the cranberry juice to the side, "There's always a catch."
"Oh don't be like that Puppy," he hums, the nickname sliding off his tongue, "You haven't been drinking it like you should."
That was a bit of a lie; Harry often was the one to make her drink it and he was with her a lot, but he knew he'd have to bite her before they went out. It'd been a little while since the last, and if Harry knows anything about anything then there are always dark things lurking around the corner, and while he doesn't plan on letting her leave his eyesight he knows that Y/N won't submissively just hold his hand the whole time. It's not in her nature, that bit, he has a feeling where he's taking her she'll be running a little ways ahead. And Harry couldn't forgive himself if anything happens to her under his watch, so he's decides extra precaution is necessary.
She only sulks for a moment before digging in though, then a content smile pulls at her lips, using her foot to kick out the chair across from her as if to urge him to sit. "Such chivalry." Harry murmurs, getting a giggle. He's not eating this morning, since he's biting her, that'll be enough to sustain off of for the majority of their day.
The table she has is small, considering she lives in a dorm, so Harry could easily reach over while she ate. Sliding her hair off her neck to show his mark, proud on her skin and he has to bite his cheek from smiling. He'd never known having someone wear his mark would be so nice to see. Really, since Harry has been small he's always wanted a person for his very own – to love and hold onto and be with forever, but it just so happened that he was a vampire and it just so happens that they are very flighty creatures. Not all too loyal, because they have so much time on their hands...so much life to live, it felt silly to stay with one person till the end of time.
Vampires didn't really do cute couple like stuff either, now that Harry thinks about it. Cold dinners with little talking other than business, the sex while steamy was heartless, to the touch they were frigid, their emotions often hollow. It was always feed, get money, have sex, repeat, and Harry didn't like that anymore. The novelty of it had worn off, and Y/N was such a shiny new prospect of feelings that he hadn't been able to tap into for a long while.
Another thing that Y/N has, that vampires don't, is that he can mark her. His kind heal to quickly for the lip caused bruising to stay longer than an hour or two, and drinking from them doesn't have the same fulfilling affect as with humans. They could bond, sure, but those bonds were fragile. It is possible to scent one another too, only those were more of a territorial thing as well, which is probably why Liam had freaked out once he'd smelt Harry on her. It meant he was claiming her as his own, and it's not normal that somebody does this simply to feed off that person.
Harry was pressing his fingers down gently against the tender skin of her throat, and he feels it bob with her swallow and vibrate when she speaks, "Still sensitive, a bit."
"I need to bite again, if that's okay?" Y/N nods, sniffing a little before turning her eyes back towards the plate.
"I won't be too loopy for our date though?" She asks soft, and it makes Harry's heart beat rapidly, shaking his head.
"No, I won't suck on it for so long."
Nodding once more, she accepts the answer and Harry draws his hand away, "Where're we going?" Her voice starts up not long after, looking to him with bright, excited eyes, "I presume since you're letting me wear your sweater it's gonna be outside maybe?" Fingers playing with the hem, she smiles down at it, "You always say mine aren't thick enough for cold weather, it'd make sense."
"You're not tricking me," Harry chides her, "It's a surprise, I told you."
"Fine, fine!" She holds her hands up defensively, "Have I got to wear a blindfold?"
Harry bites his lip, the casual mention littering his brain with images of her waiting for him on the bed with a silky scarf covering her eyes and maybe tied around her wrists too, and he has to close his eyes for a moment. Pinch at the bridge of his nose, because while this was an immaculate thought, he really did need to get a stiffy. Especially before he bites her, that would only worsen it and Harry would have to excuse himself which – if her stove clock is correct – they wouldn't have time for.
When Y/N picks up her plate to toss it in the sink, Harry scoots his chair out and spreads his legs some. It's the position they habitually use when he drinks from her, so when she turns around after watching it, she so familiarly plops into his lap. Settling her arms in front of her, wrists together and Harry swallows down a small moan as he wraps one hand over the both of them. Submissive in this aspect of things, as well as a creature of  repetition (something he notices that humans love), proving this even more so as she tilts her head to the side for him.
He composes himself, taking in one deep, slow, breath, counting to ten as he nonessentially presses his nose into her throat. Vanilla. She chose vanilla today, and he wonders if she did this to drive him batty on purpose, or if it was an innocent gesture. His eyes flitter shut, prepping himself to for the bite and the rush he's bound to feel but he has to push past it. Only last long enough to darken it up some, a trick to the less than smart nose, the goal indefinitely was to mask her with his scent so it'd appear it was only him walking around.
Harry found the spot, licked over it once before piercing her skin with his teeth and Y/N's whole body shudders before tensing, and he's careful to realize when her muscles relax is when she's beginning to fall down the rabbit hole of loopy, blood loss induced hallucinations. A flow of blood seeps into his mouth with the first suck, his lips latched around the spot like a suction cup almost, and then he sucks a second time. It tastes even sweeter today and he assumes its because he can't have as much as he'd like to, since that's how things usually work out for him. At the first sign of her taut body being worn loose he stops, even though it nearly pains him, he has to pry himself away from her and Y/N gasps from the sudden harsh pull into reality. 
His tongue runs across it to clean up the trickles of red sliding down her skin, "Sorry Baby," he pants, and it's so easy to use these pet names, especially when she's compliant in his arms, pulling her closer to him as she leans her head back onto his, "Had to stop fast."
"Don' like when you do that." She tells him, and he laughs a bit.
"Yeah," he agrees, "Me neither."
                                                               .                    .                     .
The first stop Harry had said was an important one, and since they got stuck in traffic, his hand on her lower back urged her to more or less run to a tiny building that she'd never seen before. They were downtown, and Y/N doesn't get to go often since one, she didn't have a car, and two, she might possibly have the worst sense of direction in the world. That plus cities don't seem like a likely pair.
Upon first entering, she is nearly blown over with all things French. From a mural of lavender fields on either wall stepping inside, to the duplicate Eiffel Tower pressed at the far corner, which was smaller than the real one sure, but it still towered over her. It was like stepping into a clown car in the circus, she'd presume, since the outside seemed so small compared to it's surroundings but it felt like she'd stepped into a completely different world. The ceilings were high above her head, there were tables set up with fancy, ceramic center pieces that were all different shapes although they seemingly correlated with one another. A hostess booth next to the door that Harry ignores in favor of pushing her even farther in, past the tables and he takes her through a door, into the kitchen "Bonjour Beau!" Harry calls, and there's a sharp clanking of what sounds to be pans before a man pops into view from behind a marbled granite counter.
" 'Arry!" He chirps happily, his hands in the air as he motions him over and Harry takes her loosely around the wrist, pulling her deeper in, "Mon ami, how long has it been?"
Harry answers him regretfully, before he nods towards Y/N, grinning, "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is –"
"Beaufort!" He cuts Harry off, suddenly right in front of them and Y/N could have sworn he was just like a little less than ten feet away, her eyes wide but a smile flirting with her lips as he takes her hand, "Coming from a beautiful fortress, that means! You call me Beau, though, I prefer it. Beautiful person, that means, and s'not lying is it?" He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, and ultimately she's resorted to a fit of giggles. It's not like when Harry gives her peck-like kisses, those throw her in a puddle of mushy feelings, and this man is easily ten or fifteen years her senior, however he's vivacious and has a stereotypical chef's hat. How could she not love it? "Beautiful, you are, your name should be Beau!"
"Hi, Beau," she responds, "It's nice to meet you. I take it you were born in –"
"Annecy, France, born and raised from 1807 to..."
"Beau." Harry cuts him off warningly.
Beau is unperturbed, continuing as if he'd never been stopped only deciding that the date wasn't important any longer, "I move to see Americans in action." He motions towards the kitchen behind him, "French delicacies are a hit, here, no? I packed my bags, kissed mom on the cheek," he demonstrates with the back of his hand, making a loud Moi noise, and really she doesn't think she's ever met someone so intensely French and subtly batty. The bickering between him and Harry suggests that they've known each other for a long while, and this realization makes her heart thump irregular (very dangerous) with sentimental feelings. Obviously this man means something to Harry if he was so stressed about being late, and he took Y/N to meet him. He's finally sharing a deeper piece of himself, rather than the superficial (as in not as deep as she's gone in telling him details of her life) pieces of information she learns, like his favorite show or color. This is a long time friend – this means something to him.
So maybe Y/N means something to him to him too?
Y/N hadn't been paying attention for a moment, smiling to herself at this situation and the way Harry is fretting with his fingers like he's worried she wouldn't like his gift, but she loves it. Even if its just meeting Beau, she wants to know how they met, how long they've known each other, and any hijinks she knows they were bound to have gotten into, with a man as chipper and eccentric as this one. Back here it smelled like the lavender fields painted on the walls out front, and Y/N could imagine sitting here for hours listening to their stories and she thinks that'd be really nice, actually.
"Someone has love in their eyes!" Beau sing songs, pulling out pots and pans and bowls of all kinds, "S'for me, oui?"
"Beau stop flirting with her," Harry tells him from where he is sat, across from both of them on a barstool he'd brought up towards the counter, "She's my date."
Furrowing his brows, Beau tsks, "Somebody is jealous," he murmurs more so to Y/N than he was to Harry, and when Y/N smiles and looks over  at Harry once again she can see him glowering, "Fine, 'Arry, Beau will keep flirtation un petite." Then his gaze falls back to her, grinning wide, "You can't cook. I will teach you. Cooking lessons with Beau for free!"
"He's a world class chef. One of the best in the world. Over sixty different locations all around the world." Harry chimes in.
Beau smiles in the acknowledgement of his success, a gentle hand falling onto her shoulder and giving it a sure squeeze, "Don't let this scare you from me. And if you can't get it down, we have alternative."
And really, they could've told Y/N he was just going to give her a history lesson on the stainless steel fridge and Y/N would be so full of happiness she wouldn't be able to bare it. She recalls one night as she'd shoved herself into Harry's side – a frequent spot for her – just on the brim of sleep, she'd started telling him how she wishes she could cook. Frozen meals and fried eggs were really the extent of her abilities and it troubled her deeply. "How am I supposed to be an adult and I still can't figure out how to make spaghetti?" She'd told him, to which he replied, "Spaghetti is hard, Sweetheart, don't worry about it." Before uttering something about her needing sleep and petting at her head, twisting his fingers in her hair to silence her pre-slumber nonsense.
Harry got her a cooking lesson with a world renowned, preeminent chef because she was worried she couldn't make spaghetti.
Her heart soars.
                                                                         .            .            .
It turns out that Y/N can now boil noodles, but that's the extent of her abilities. Everything else is just unredeemable, apparently, and switching to fun things like a Crème Brûlée resulted in her undoing. So Beau assured her that it was okay, "Next time we try. Beau got you pumpkin! You carve pumpkin, I finish the dessert."
So Harry sat besides Y/N and helped her gut the pumpkin, even telling her small pumpkin facts as if to get her mind off her failure at being a French chef.  His hand smoothing over the thick orange covering, knocking his knuckles into it, "This is the rind; a pretty one it is. Finest I've seen in a while." And he takes her hand in his, which makes her cheeks heat up a little as he places it on the pumpkin, "We're gonna carve right here, because when you knock it sounds the prettiest."
"Are you a world class pumpkin carver?" She teased.
Harry helped her use a needle like tool and together they poked out the shape of a pumpkin onto it.
"I'm gonna call it existential crisis."  And Harry snorted.
After they've finished, taste the desert (which gives her goosebumps, it was that delicious), and they've finished carving the pumpkin (and Harry calls her Pumpkin about 17 times) Beau sends them off with kisses on the cheek and forehead, a slap to the back and a shove out of the door because his restaurant opened for lunch in an hour and his workers were about to start filing in. Beau gives you free cooking lesson, then everybody's mother wants one too! He'd explained, clapping his hands,Au Revoir! See you soon.
Then Harry won't tell her where they are headed next, taking back roads and new streets that she doesn't recognize, until they're pulling up on a large building, towering over the both of them like something out of a movie. Her head turns towards him, but he's reaching money out of the window to pay for a parking spot. "Harry?"
"Once I came over," Harry begins, driving over a small speed bump, "You were still napping, so I let myself in –"
"How did you get past the..." she begins, but much like Beaufort, Harry continues without notice of her interruption.
"And you were passed out on the couch, flopped over the arm with "Top Ten Greatest Pieces of Art and how they were made. The next video you had queued up was How It's Made: Ceramic Teapots and Other Dishes. So I presume you like art a bit?" Y/N nods slow, "This is a viewing."
Head tilting, Y/N looks back up at the building through the window, "A viewing? That sounds so cool, what the heck is it?"
"Oh Darling," He hums, "So impatient."
He stops there, getting out of the car while Y/N fiddled with her seatbelt and for some reason it was much harder to click open than it had been before. Like it'd locked up or something, no matter how hard her thumb jams down on the button it wouldn't budge. She's about to start grumbling at it, like one does when inanimate objects aren't cooperating, but her door opens and a rush of cold air floods in, soon to be masked by Harry's also chilly body but it lessened it some. He leant in close, looking her in the eyes as he presses the button down with ease and it clicks open softly, and he was really close. Sure, they've cuddled, but all the times they've cuddled Y/N was well on her way to falling asleep and she never fell asleep looking at him, so when she got so up close and personal to his beautiful, ethereal face – her pulse quickened.
Harry smiled like he could hear it, before leaning back out and holding a hand for her to take, "Come now."
When she steps out of the car fully, a hat is fitted over her head and on her ears, a gentle hand tucking her hair beneath it. Y/N's brows furrow at him for a moment until she notices the sparkly white flakes floating down from the dull greyed sky, leaving dewy drops on her skin. It's not heavy but it has the potential to be, the wind kissing their cheeks and they even manage to turn Harry's a sweet pink. Pink! She'd never seen that happen before to him and she can't help but gape.
"It shouldn't be snowing so soon." Harry is staring at the sky, the snow dropping on his face before he notices her staring at him. "Hm?" His hum is higher, out of confusion as to why she's looking she presumes, and Y/N lifts her hand to his cheek.
"Your cheeks," she murmurs, a grin broadening on her mouth, "Oh, your cheeks Harry!" She cries out, fingertips denting the cold skin, "I've never seen you blush before."
"Blush?" Harry asks, hand lifting to cover hers, "I'm blushing?"
Y/N nods, resorted to giggles, "It's so cute." She tells him, about to withdraw her hand but Harry holds tighter to her fingers, pressing them to his face and closing his eyes, breathing deep and a puff of air clouds around his even pinker mouth, and in that moment Harry looks very innocent. His usual public stony stature, worried eyes, and set jaw is nothing but soft curves and gentle eyes.
"You're cute." He tells her, eyes blinking open slow, and heaving a sigh, "As much as I'd enjoy sitting out here with you and staring at the snow, you might get a cold," he pulls her hand away but keeps hold tightly to it, "Come now." He repeats himself and tugs her along, up white marble steps that gleam at them stretched wide. They were so nice, she frets that her shoes might be too grubby for their immaculate appearance, and she was also a bit anxious that she might slip, given the bottom of her shoes have rubbed away to smooth soles with no grip on the ground, and that plus marble doesn't seem to be the best combination.
Though, with the sureness of Harry's grip on her, these thoughts diminish like blanketed fire.
He'd never let her fall.
                                                                     .                   .                   .
Harry had to try and compose the sheer and utter amazement from his blushing, but it still rings bells in him hours later. He was a vampire – one so long gone, that blood just barely runs through his veins, only enough to not rouse suspicion as to not having a pulse or a heartbeat. Never would he have enough in him to actually pinken from cold air? The only reasonable explanation would be since he'd taken her blood earlier that day, however he's fed from many other humans in frigid weather and this had never happened.
Enigmatic; this girl and his relationship with her was beyond any mystery capable of being solved by mere books. Gosh, does he wish he had someone to talk to about this – to clear up the air, because nothing makes sense but his heart aches overwhelmed at the mere thought of sitting alone somewhere with her for hours. Not even as a human himself, had he ever wanted such a thing. And not knowing just to what severity her feelings were for him, was a pain he couldn't describe in just words.
It's almost annoying, really, as he thinks about it. What kind of vampire is he to get so emotional? The sight of her irises shimmering as she stared at the snowfall like it'd been the most glamorous thing in the world – like it didn't happen every year, without fail – as if this were the first she were to have ever seen. The vast white flakes come baring promises of sludgy roads, possible dangerous ice, and impending wet socks, yet she still holds her hand out to catch them in her palm, letting quiet titters out with unalloyed delight as they melt in the warmth of her hand.
Humans were so god damn easily entertained. Such a simple, unadorned species.
So why was he so enamored with one?
He doesn't regret this date, not one bit; he's actually filled with joy from the day as they drive to dinner, but there was something about him blushing that really got to him. Harry is changing rapidly. Not physically, nor mentally – at least he doesn't think – but emotionally he's awry. If he's really fallen in love with a human, the despair she must go through to be accepted...the attempted exile on his part that would soon rather be denied (Des is a prick, but he wouldn't kick his son out entirely. Would treat him more like shit than he already does, sure, but nothing Harry hadn't prepped for in the past when the potential for his father to unleash any sort of wrath came about).
One thing for sure is he needs to talk to Liam. Knows for a fact he would have some insight on this – on this unmistakable bond he feels.
His phone rumbles to life in his pocket, and he takes one careful hand from the wheel to reach for it. Speak of the devil, Liam's contact is showing and he teeters on not answering before ultimately sliding across the screen. Lifts it to his ear and bites back all that he wants to say, "Lo?"
"Harry!" He chirps brightly, obviously having forgotten the mishap with Y/N previous to this, "My special guy, how are you?"
"I'm good, Li, and yourself?"
For a moment Harry thinks they're going to have a normal conversation, but Liam waits a beat too long before responding, "Listen, don't be mad..."
"Oh christ –"
"Your father wants to meet up with you," Harry rolls his eyes, holds back a scoff, "Says you haven't been around in a while. Needs to discuss a thing or two with ya."
"I'm busy." Harry answers monotonously, peeking his eyes over at the cat napping cutie in the passenger seat, face pressed against the window, and he knows with the position she's in her necks going to be sore, so he makes a mental note to offer a massage later.
Liam clicks his tongue, "Harry, c'mon now, you haven't seen him face to face in damn near 20 years..."
"And there is a reason for that Liam, but right now I'm genuinely busy." And he can hear Liam take a breath to start up again so he reacts quickly, "Let's discuss this later. I'm driving." Before hanging up and tossing his phone a little to aggressively in the cup holder, rousing a very easily startled Y/N from her sleep with a jump and a squeak, hitting her head against the cold glass with a small thud.
"Ouch!" She cries, throwing her hand to her face to hold it, "Did we hit a squirrel?" Her voice wavers, upset by the thought and still boggled from the noise, and Harry feels bad but a giggle bubbles in his throat. There was something so endlessly cute about how frazzled she gets in certain situations, especially abrupt ones that involve her snapping her head back and forth and looking around with wide eyes.
Harry reaches out and places his hand on her thigh, the heat radiating from it almost making him shiver, "Sorry for waking you up, Darling? Just my phone."
"Oh," she sighs in relief, "Least it wasn't the squirrel." Harry coughs around a small laugh, deciding he'd leave his hand there for a little while. They were nice to hold onto, he finds, but he can't think about it too much. If he does then his mind starts wandering to far less innocent places, where they open up warm and willing for him to fit himself in between.
That's too much though, to think about right now, as his fingers tighten on her thigh and the steering wheel. Knuckles whiter against the black pleather for a moment, and he's biting the inside of his cheek. It'd never really dawned on him until then...until that fleeting thought...that Harry hadn't – well, since he'd met her, Harry hadn't touched himself in a long while, much less fucked anybody else. He couldn't even wrap his head around having sex with someone else, the thought makes him squirmy and upset and it makes him squeeze a little tighter on Y/N as if to assure her that he wouldn't ever.
An though Y/N can't read his mind, it's almost as if she can feel his unease. A soft hand lying gentle on top of his, slotting her fingers between his own and curling them around to press into his palms, "Look how much snow there is," she muses, referring to the good three inches on the ground and the flakes still falling lazily from the sky, much less of a flurry as it had been, "We can play in it later, yeah?"
Harry gives her a sideways glance, "Are you going to get a cold?"
"Well how could I know the answer to that?" She asks him exasperated, "Don't worry about me, ya goose! It'll be so fun, I bet!"
And that's another thing, about humans that he just doesn't quite get, but feels rather envious of. They're such weak and feeble creatures, they must know that, yet they directly put themselves in danger often. Whether it be swimming in the depths of the ocean with sea animals boasting 
sharp teeth and electric stingers, or playing in a cold wet substance that their ancestors despised due to the fatality involved with it. It's as if they know but they don't care – life is short for them anyhow, they might as well live it to the fullest, Harry supposes. Even if it seems relatively pointless and beyond stupid to fill his hands with finely shaved ice and pack it into a ball to throw.
If it made Y/N happy, he's pretty sure he'd do anything.
                                                                        .                 .                   .
"Liam, I swear to –" Harry begins angrily, slamming the bathroom door open to the bathroom, pleased to see it was empty apart from him, "Had I not told you I was busy?"
Throughout the entirety of dinner his phone had been vibrating in his pocket, though he was happy to ignore it in favor of talking to Y/N. He'd taken her to a nice burger place that had terribly messy burgers with sautéed onions and a special sauce that Y/N murmured happily about eating, and a milkshake that was just as sugary and sweet as he thinks she is. They'd started talking about Christmas despite Halloween just barely passing and how much Y/N enjoys it, and she'd gotten into talking about the pinecones she wanted to buy and how they could decorate a tree together because "Niall doesn't much like decorating with me, the sour sport, only sits and watches me do it!" and oh what Harry would give to see tinsel gleam in her eyes, is almost nonsensical.
And Y/N told him how one day she wants a tree she needed a ladder to decorate; large and tall enough that standing next to it made them look as small as peas. He had just made a mental note to look up how much a fifteen foot tree might cost when he got ten messages in a row, in rapid dinging succession, and Y/N laughed, "Geez, Mr. Popular go answer your phone!" Dotting a napkin at the corners of her mouth, "It's been going off all night, go answer it. I don't mind, really!" Which only made Harry feel worse as he slid from the booth, stalking towards the bathroom angrily and tugging his phone out.
"I know," Liam begins, and Harry can hear him pacing from the other side of the phone, "I told him you were busy and he made a bit of a scene. Threatening to fire everyone, and with the foul mood he's in I wouldn't put it past him. You're the only one that can turn it, I'm sorry to say."
A hand to his temple, Harry heaves a sigh. Des was known for weighty tantrums that include getting rid of a whole lot of workers, which in turn means more work for Harry in finding other people to replace them with. And though he wants to fight it so badly, he knows Liam would only keep bugging him about it, even afterwards if it'd happened, he would remind Harry again and again of the lives he'd probably torn up that were now out of a job, human and vampire alike.
Though, this would mean he has to tell Liam about Y/N. He doesn't feel safe enough to just leave her alone at his house, especially when he has vampires filing in and out of there often, a good chunk of them knowing where he lives. Leaving her at her home at this time of night would also be a terrible idea, even more so that this black mass is still present just kept at bay by Harry being around. He doesn't even want to think about what the thing would do, or it's owner, now that it had a chance to strike at night when Harry finally wasn't around.
Which left her waiting in the car, but that was still so dangerous...so how was he to...
"Okay, I'll come, but," he emphasizes the last word heavily, "I need you to do something for me. It stays between us, and you don't freak out."
"Yes, of course, anything, thank you Harry." Liam answers quickly.
Harry takes another breath, "I – you need to watch someone for me. She'll be in my car, you'll sit in it with her, and you will be nice."
"Sure, anything Harry, now hurry! Everyone is positively freaked that he'll go through with it."
Hanging up, Harry takes a deep breath and places his hand down on the sink. Grubby smudges at the corner of the mirror he stare into catch his eye as he zones out, wondering how what has been the best date he's had in a long while, is slowly being smeared into the worst night ever. Not to push on anxiety teen dramatics, but seeing his father always takes so much out of Harry, and the thought alone turns his mood sour. Knowing that he'd have to cut their time short to go appease the grumpy brute only makes him angrier, holding so tight to the sink that the cast iron begins cracking beneath his fingertips. The noise echoes through the empty bathroom, causing him to snatch his hand away as if it'd just turned scalding hot.
He'd been doing so well keeping his temper in check, and now he's gone and broken a damn sink.
Harry attempts to do the breathing techniques that Liam had taught him a long while ago, as he walks out to the restaurant once again but when he doesn't immediately see Y/N, he feels all hope of clinging to remainder of a good night vanishing. She wasn't where he had left her, which means she either left or she was taken and ... oh god, if she were to be kidnapped that would –
"Excuse me, sir," a voice snaps him from his thoughts, gaze settling on a blushing server who held someone's empty glass in his hand, "She told me to tell you she ran outside real quick. Something about seeing a bunny."
A bunny? She went outside, in the cold wet snow, for a fucking bunny? What is she thinking?
He utters his thank you to the server, reaching into his pocket and handing him a few crumpled twenties before setting off outside. If he were human the air would shock him, having grown significantly chilly since the sun had gone down, which means his sweater most likely isn't helping warm her any longer. The wind was to whispy for him to catch her scent, but he looks down at the snow and sees footprints next to tiny paw prints and has some clue of which way she'd gone. Following them as he gnawed at his lip, trying to pick up if any creature was surrounding and ready to strike, but before that could happen, he rounds the corner in a huff to find Y/N crouched, coaxing a small bunny into her arms. It was obvious it wasn't a wild one, due to the collar around it's small neck.
Continuing to watch, Harry sees the tiny mammal step it's way into Y/N's hands, and the smile she has is only one someone could get when an animal has willingly come to you. Cuddling it close to her body, and if not for his heightened hearing he wouldn't be able to hear her murmur, "Oh, you're the cutest Bunny I've seen, yes you are. Harry's gonna love you, I bet."
"Y/N." Harry breaks through the quiet whispers of her and the snow, his voice one that he doesn't think he's ever used with her. It makes her jump, clutching the bunny tighter to her chest, and with one look at his furrowed brow he knows she could tell he wasn't amused, "Would you like to explain why, you would just leave the restaurant, alone, at night, without me knowing?" The crunch of his feet beneath the snow rings in his own ears as Y/N looks down guiltily, "Have you any idea how dangerous that is?" His voice rises and god, god he wants to stop it but his father had pissed him off and how could she just disappear on him like that? When there is something...someone...after her? "I mean for fuck sake! I'm trying to protect you, why would you put yourself in peril?"
He's steps away from her, and he doesn't know if the wobbling lip he sees is just his imagination or not. It wouldn't surprise him – it's not like Y/N is oversensitive, or anything, but the voice he'd been using is the one that has been perfected for ages. One that Harry was sat down and taught to recreate, a deepened reverberation of words that swallowed up the person it was directed to, to assert his dominance in all it's splendor. The reason nobody questioned him at the company when he made decisions, how he shut other vampires down and settled their disputes, why he was feared and looked up to by many.
Harry never wanted to use this voice on Y/N, but it seemed like it couldn't be helped. He needed her to understand...if anything happened to her he would – god, he doesn't know what he would do. Couldn't stand the thought of something ever happening to his sweet girl; the very apple of his being, nowadays. The thought of her hurt upsets him so deep, it rattles his core so intensely that it nearly springs actual  tears to his eyes, just thinking about it.
Now he's crowded most of her space, her body pushed against the brick wall of the side of the bakery they stood next to. Harry's forearms trapped her between them, the only thing keeping them apart was the animal held in her arms, but Harry has his forehead pressed to her own, his eyes fluttered shut, "You can't do that to me." He all but whimpers, and he can hear her pulse speeding up, the ghost of her breaths on his lips, "You can't disappear...I...I need you."
"I'm sorry," she says, voice wavered, "I hadn't meant to scare you. This poor bunny has lost it's owner I fear, I didn't want him to freeze out here." He feels a shuffle, though he is unmoving, she manages to slither her hand up, pressing a gentle palm to his cheek. Warm and reassuring, as if she could tell the turmoil going on inside of him for just his overdramatic mind. "If it helps, I didn't feel anything looking at me? I wouldn't have gone if I thought so, I promise I'm not that foolish."
Blinking his eyes open, Harry's met with hers beautiful, bright and sparkling at him.
And for the second time, Harry lies his lips against a human's.
His hands curl into fists besides her head, his stomach thrown into a pit of butterflies as she whimpers against his mouth. It alights his body just as it had the first time, only this kiss is so much harder to hold himself back. Wishing the damned bunny wasn't between them, because he wants to curl around her; cling like a second skin, to her body. The snow fall is growing heavy once again, flurrying onto their cheeks and melting into wet drops.
Y/N's warm and pleasant, attentive, and sure of the kiss she presses back. She clings to the mammal but pushes forward to meet him with equal vigor, and Harry parts her lips to slide his tongue into her inviting mouth.  The taste of her milkshake still present; strawberries and cake, saccharine just like her. It would be the end of him, honestly, and he doesn't think he'd ever pull away. Their noses knocking against each other's slightly, as Harry captures her lips and lets them go, then repeats. Catching the corner of her mouth, then a touch of her chin, down the length of her jaw until he's at her throat, and god, what he would give to bite her right now. How close they would feel if he would feed from her now, biting into the skin and drinking.
But he stops himself; not here, he couldn't. Maybe once they've gotten to his home, but not here in the open, before he must sit her besides Liam. 
So he parts with a small gasp of his own, nosing into her neck, "You taste so sweet," Harry murmurs against her throat, "And smell of peppermints," it's true, the scent floods his nose and he isn't sure how nor why, given she'd smelled like vanilla at the start of the night, "I enjoy both these things."
Y/N giggles, "M'glad, yes I am! I like how you taste too, I wish... . I wish you would kiss me more."
With a smile, Harry draws back entirely, and places a hand on her cheek.
                                                                   .                   .                  .
"Liam," Harry starts carefully, seeing the man's face begin scrunching noticing who was in the car with him. He'd rolled down Y/N's window so they could great like that for a moment, and Y/N grins widely at the disgruntled looking Liam, "This is Y/N, and her new bunny, um..."
"Moose." She fills in, before reaching her hand out the window for him to shake, "We've met for a moment before! You lot woke me up, remember?"
Dumbstruck, Liam nods his head slowly taking her hand in his, "Ah, yes...I remember it vaguely."
Harry knows this is hard for Liam – after Sophia he vowed to never deal with the likes of humans again, unless absolutely necessary, and that was years upon years ago. He can't imagine what it must be like to touch Y/N's hand; the warmth only a mortal such as herself could accompany, and the smell of her blood surely throws Harry into a doozy still and he's been around her constantly for some time now. He wonders if it's possible that Sophia smelled the same as Y/N does to him, or...with the way Liam is looking right now...it's likely Y/N could smell even better.
"I'll only be gone for a moment," Harry turns his attention back to Y/N, and he doesn't reach out and stroke her cheek as he longs to, "And then we'll continue with our night."
"Kay," Y/N answers, smiling at him, before turning back to Liam, "I like your coat! Did you get it from YSL? Y'know, I've never been in one of them stores because I've got no money but I always stalk them online so I can pretend that it's an option to buy from them."
As Harry gets out of the car, he feels better leaving her with Liam. It's obvious she's not scared, nor put off by Liam's stoic and awkward appearance, and it makes him chuckle a bit that Liam doesn't know what's coming to him in that moment. The first human he's going to have a proper conversation with in years is clutching a bunny and urging conversation to fill the silent, snowy night. Rather amusing, really, thinking about the encounter.
He wishes he'd have it on video.
                                                                      .                      .                      .
Liam was – understandably – troubled.
Being in such close proximity to this human was making him a little twitchy, he'll admit, and he wishes Harry would've let him sit in the backseat as he'd originally intended but Harry gives him a look that says it'd rouse suspicion. Which means this girl doesn't know what Harry is yet, or what Liam is, or what they're doing here. Though she doesn't seem to question any of it either, only holds the furry animal that is motionless besides a nose wiggle or two, as she prattles on to Liam about everything and nothing, despite his reluctance to speak back.
Difficult. That's the word that represents the situation for him, pure in it's form, grueling even. The last time Liam had been this close to a human has been ages, since he and Sophia had their last cup of tea together – when he'd told her he loved her, and told her what he was, and when she ran away. He couldn't even bare to drink from them now, ordering someone of lesser status to extract the blood from the original source or steal it from a blood bank, whichever was more convenient. The disgust and discontent he felt when he was just too much.
Yet here is this human girl; fragile, weak, clinging to something that's even weaker than she, and all he feels is a little uncomfortable. Her scent was divine, underneath the mask of Harry that he'd given her, if Liam dug he could smell her in it's purest form. No wonder Harry had been burrowing his face into her neck when he'd stumbled upon them at first – it was unsullied, and honeyed. Her voice was dulcet, and mellifluous, like hearing an orchestra conduct the finest of music for his ears to partake in listening to. Her skin looked soft, her hands dainty yet capable, her eyes wide, bright, glowing in the lamplight their beneath.
She speaks highly of the earth, the moon, the snow, and of the structured mansion before them. Tells him that it'd be fun to sled down the hillside even a freezing cold creak waited patiently at the bottom, for it's ice to crack over and consume it's victim. Elaborates on how the forest surrounding them is probably just whispers of nocturnal creatures scurrying, or the whisper of cool wind attempting to penetrate heavy coats of campers. Somehow this brought them to the discussion of breakfast food, and how good Harry was at making it.
Then it went to Harry – and oh, how highly she spoke of him. As if Harry himself surpassed the earth and the moon, the snow and the rain, the sun and all that's beneath it. Of his sweet nature, his gentle voice with her, the date they'd been on and how lovely his friend Beau was. She tells him she hopes for many more dates, as she likes to spend time with him, and likes how he smells, and how when he's around she just feels so full of happiness and warmth.
Oh...oh, how obvious it was that she loved him.
Liam's nails dig into his palms. Was he envious? Of who? Her? Or Harry? The girl, who sees everything in it's brightest most immaculate form with unadulterated and unbeknownst love for a vampire? Or the vampire, who has found love in a loyal, kindhearted human with a heart that beats rapid at the mere mention of him?
He couldn't decide. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was neither. Maybe he was being melodramatic again.
"Hey," Y/N's hand touches his skin, and it burns – god it burns, but in the best way. He hadn't felt the touch of one so toasty in such a long time, and it sears through his entire body like fire, "Are you well? I'm sorry you got stuck sitting here with me."
Swallowing thickly, Liam tries to rack his brain for a response. Her and Harry are so different yet so similar; connected by the heart, but separate minds, though he tries to remember what he'd do when he wanted to avoid a question from Harry, at this age. When he was still young, fresh as a vampire and mind riddled with questions, Liam used to...well...
"Let me tell you a story." He would begin easily, stirring sauce in the pan it was in slowly, attempting to prevent any spills from the sides.
"M'not  a bloody child, Li," Harry would grumble at him, but soon he would resort to no words at all. Waiting patiently for him to begin, because while he may not be a "bloody child" Liam would tell him stories of battle, of scorned lovers and ferocious kings, of love affairs and crooked knights. All of which Liam was told by Des, who'd experienced it first hand, and Liam could feel the resentment Harry harbored for his father even then so he left that bit out. And Harry was always terribly intrigued.
So he tries it with her, and if she liked them, well ...perhaps her and Harry are more connected than even he thought.
"May I tell you a story?" He asks her, voice low and undemanding, laced with hope, though he doesn't know what this hope is for. Does he want them to be connected? Or would he rather Harry suffer the lowliness he feels constantly
Y/N grins, nodding and shifting to face him more in her seat.
                                                                          .             .              .
The meeting was just as Harry suspected it would be. Des pretends to be his father for a moment, then he's his business partner, and Harry's cosigning the "opportunity of a lifetime" just as he had twenty years ago. It's rather annoying but relatively harmless, and there is no mention of Harry parading around with a human girl and not appearing at the club as often as he should be.
"Don't be a stranger," Des had said after shaking his hand, "Come by for dinner sometime. I have a nice woman for you to meet, think the two of you would be lovely for each other."
"For each other or for your business?" Harry retorted, taking his hand away from his father's, "I'm not interested in dating any woman from competing companies."
Des puts his hands up in defensive, "It would be fruitful for our pockets, but I understand." He tells him, walking backwards so he leant against his desk, "Have you spoken with your mother as of late?"
"She's fine," Harry answered uninterested, "Father, I have some business to attend to, so I'll show myself out. Have a goodnight."
He made quick to get out, his surroundings suffocating him it felt like. A majority of his life was spent in this god forsaken mansion and the memories it holds make him grit his teeth, dark and shrouding of any light, he feels the shadows trying to creep into him, drag him back down into the pits of an imitation hell. The only thing that gets him down these long corridors are thoughts of Y/N waiting for him in the car, hopefully safe and unhurt by any harsh words Liam might have thrown at her.
Although, when he gets to the car, he can hear them. The window left down from their first meeting and most likely to get some air in the stuffy car, despite how cold it was. From the sounds of it Liam was telling one of his stories and the way Y/N laughs so elated makes his heart thump a little quicker than usual, because two very important people in his life are enjoying each other's company and it feels so good. He was almost certain Liam would be cold and dry and make Y/N cry or something, but he seemed to have been good.
He makes no noise to signal that he's there, nor does he see Liam even remotely look up at him, but Y/N calls his name before turning in her seat, grinning wide, "Liam is just the best story teller!" She tells him and Harry is startled a bit. How could she have known he was there? "I didn't know knights used to bed kings too! And the queen walked in, oh that was a marvelous story, do you think they made up?" Her attention was turned back to Liam, who shrugs his shoulders comically.
"Could have. I don't think the queen as much room to judge about cheaters, considering her affair with the chef."
"Scandalous couples are amusing." Harry chimes in, having gotten a little closer before stroking Y/N's head through the window, scratching at her scalp and she just about purrs for him, leaning into his touch, "Has he told you the one about King Arthur and his anal escapades?"
Y/N gasps, eyes widening, "No, but I would like to here it surely!"
Liam smiles, "Maybe next time Pet. I have to go home now sadly, and you lot must get home too before you catch a cold." He looks pointedly at Y/N, who waves her hand at him.
"You and Harry with this cold nonsense. Always think I'm gonna get sick, when you two could as well! I'm not the only human here."
Harry and Liam are silent for a moment, before they erupt in laughter.
                                                                       .                      .                         .
The ride home was nice as Y/N relived the past thirty minutes or so in the car with Liam. She says he's very nice, even though at the start he was a bit of a recluse that he opened up to her after a little while. It makes him over joyous, thinking that perhaps Y/N warmed Liam to the idea of the two of them; perhaps he could ask for Liam's advice on the matter sooner than he thought. Especially since he'd leant in close after Harry bid him a goodbye,  "Keep her safe," he'd said low, "I'd hate to see something happen to this one. We must talk soon."
Once they got to Harry's house, Y/N scurried her and the bunny inside, despite his attempts to get her to slow down because of the possible ice on his walkway. Though she ignores him in favor of asking where he keeps old shoe boxes, ordering him to warm a towel up in the dryer while she retrieved one of his old boot box in the back of his closet. Harry kicks off his shoes and sets his keys down on the dish in the middle of his coffee table before complying with her requests.
Soon enough they have the bunny in a shoebox with a soft warm towel and a few leafy vegetables Y/N found in Harry's fridge besides it. She pets at it lovingly for a few moments, before leaning back on the haunches of her feet and looking to Harry, "Can I take a shower? I'm frozen solid, I'm pretty sure." And Harry chuckles as he nods.
Tonight couldn't have gone any better, he believes, despite the small hiccup. As he hears the shower hit pellets against the grown and Y/N's soft humming as she washed away the cold feeling from deep in her bones, Harry relaxes into his couch with a cup of tea. He'd pour one for her when she got out of the shower, he decided, and then they could watch some TV for a little while in his living room.
It's humorous, really, how domestic he's become with her. How domestic he's become in general – just a month ago Harry would be roaming the streets, feeding as he pleased, fucking who he'd like, and he felt no remorse for any of it. Now he's been resorted to wanting nothing more but cuddles from something that would break if he squeezed too tight.
Absently does he wonder if him and Y/N resemble her odd fascination with the bunny. Y/N didn't know anything about it, yet she chased after it so easily, and she held it close like they'd not just met. She had to remind herself not to squeeze too tight, even if it was so impossibly cute, and she bit her lip to contain embarrassing noises when it rubbed against her comfortably, a testament to it's growing fondness of her. She fed it and told Harry to watch over it while she was in the shower, and the parallels are so obvious, how could Harry ignore them?
The only thing not great about them and this date, is that Harry is still undeniably a monster. A creature of the night, and Y/N doesn't know that exactly (which, if he's honest, is a bit surprising considering he's bitten her several times), and if she had – well, would she run away as Sophia had done to Liam? It scares him, the thought of it, almost as much as it scares him that he is falling in love with a human.
Harry pulls himself out of his thoughts with the realization that Y/N has nothing set out for her to put on, which wouldn't be a big deal if she had clothes of her own here. He knows she often gets nervous wearing his things, as a lot of them do have YSL tags on the back and she deems it unfit for a nightgown when it should be worn at big parties, premieres, and anything else other than for sleep. So normally when she spends the night he has to dig through his clothes to find something for her to put on that is less than $100, which – with Harry's spending habits – is often hard.
When he pushes the door open to his room he doesn't expect Y/N to be coming out of the bathroom at the same time, and his breath stops short. The towel tucked around her body is a bit short, like it was meant to be a face towel of some sort but she'd grabbed it in a rush and hadn't noticed that. Water droplets cling to bare skin – so much bare skin – and his mark is proudly adorned on her neck. The swell of her arse just barely peeking out at the bottom of the towel, and her stance just a little pigeon toed as she was trying to pop her back from where she stood, twisting first to the side opposite of him, then turning in his direction, and "Oh!" She jumps, the hand holding the towel around her body dropping it accidentally, and she squeaks out of embarrassment when her body is for him to see.
Harry's cock begins plumping at the sight before him, her nipples appear soft and undemanding, but still pleading for his attention. Skin still damp, legs enticing, her mound smooth and soft looking, and he wants to bury his face in her.
His feet move without his mind telling him to, the more feral part of him overwhelmed with carnal desire and a need to ravish the beautiful body before him. As she stands, bending down to grab at the towel but his hand stops her, taking her arm and tugging her closer so she's pressed against his clothed self. Y/N squeaks again, eyes wide as his hands cling tight to her hips, and he doesn't think she's ever seen him like this before. Harry doesn't know if he's ever been like this before, really, so overcome with want that it's hard to formulate words.
However, he wouldn't continue if she didn't want it as well. After a moment he gets out, "Can I?"
Despite how open ended the question was, Y/N nods slow at first, before quickening it with a little more conviction.
That's all it takes for Harry – he'd not realized how much he wanted this until he'd seen her completely bare to him. Sure, sometimes seeing her in those short pajama shorts she wore got him thinking, but never as intensely as this. Never to the point where he's struck speechless by the thought of pleasing her, which in turn would be pleasing himself.
Harry wastes no time, taking her to the bed and setting her down before him, lying her horizontally on the mattress. Pushing himself up with his knee so that he crowded over her, covering her from the rest of the room as one hand smoothly runs over her stomach, rising goosebumps all over her body. Slithering himself down before his mouth hovers over her breast, "I know this is very sudden," he murmurs low, his lips grazing just over the peak, "But you drive me insane, Pet. You make me want, want, want, and I don't even know what it is I want exactly." He licks over his amaranth lips, "However, I'll only go further if you're okay with this. If you're okay with me touching and licking where I please."
Y/N's eyes are still wide and she looks confused but lustful, and he can smell her becoming wet.
It makes his mouth water.
"Do it." She croaks decisively, and Harry dawdles no longer, letting his tongue lathe over the soft bud, before pulling it into his coveting mouth. Suckling on it as his hands roam greedily over her body, squeezing in periodic places like he was making sure she was real, but he can't squeeze too hard. Just like the bunny, Y/N is such a gentle, frail creature, he must keep his actions light enough to where he isn't hurting her. He must refrain from getting to loose with his ways, or he'll end up hurting her and he doesn't want to.
It's increasingly hard to hold himself back, however, as he sucks and sucks, popping off with a wet noise just to move to the other. He fits his thigh between hers, pressing them up against where he desires to lie his mouth the most right now, and Y/N's body reacts unintentionally rocking up into it. A murmur of sorry plays on her lips, only Harry urges her to continue, moving against her on his own for just a moment until she starts breathing a little quicker, then stopping. Still licking and sucking on her, even nibbling at her nipple while his fingers twist and pull at it's twin. And Y/N whimpers, body asking for more once again by rocking up and into him.
Voraciously he pops off, slipping down her body and kissing her stomach. Sucking and biting on his way down, licking up her hip, and she tastes slightly like soap but extremely something that is just so incredibly her. It takes everything in him not to bite into the supple skin at her side and drink from there. He's ravenous for her, really, and it's all washing over him in a tsunami of extreme ardor. As if he was getting all the pent up frustration of his feelings out right now, showing her his ever so increasing need.
He pauses his descent down, using his hand to press himself up while the other travels towards her mouth. Offering two of his fingers in front of her mouth, "Will you suck on them for me?" He asks her, and she opens her mouth almost instantly, letting him sink the two in and against her wet tongue, "Good girl." he praises her, and her eyes flutter at it. Harry feels a smirk tugging at his lips, "Oh, you like that don't you, hm? Like when I call you a good girl?" Y/N hums around his fingers, weaving her tongue between them, "Course you do Pet. You're my good girl, and only mine." He adds a bit possessively, but before he has time to worry that it was too much too soon, Y/N's hip buck up in search of him again.
Dragging his fingers from her mouth, he uses those same two fingers to tweak again at her nipple. Leaning forward to press his mouth against hers, so he could drink in the moan that filters out. Parting moments later with a wet gasp before slipping back down her body once more, hiking her knees up for him and spreading her legs out. She lie open vulnerable before him, and Harry doesn't beat around the bush. He slides in, licking into her pussy with enough verve of a nation. Her lips part around his tongue and her hands dig into the sheets when he lulls around her clit in smooth, long swathes.
Harry takes her by the wrists and brings them to her hips, wrapping his arms around both her waist and her arm and keeping her pinned submissively for him, and it only serves to make Y/N moan louder than she had. "Harry," she whimpers, "Harry, you're really good at this, – ah." Laughing against her, he pulls her clit into his mouth and sucks on it, "Jeez, I'm g'na – I'm g'na cum really soon, Harry, you're – oh – stop cutting me off!" She whines through a moan and it makes him laugh again, as he licks long and broad stripes up the entirety of her once again. Dipping his tongue in her hole that was already beginning to pulse.
"Cum, Petal, cum all over my tongue." He tells her, rubbing his face back in and licking, licking, licking with his broad wet tongue and Y/N's fingers ball into small fists where he holds them at her sides, restricting much movement besides her thighs clinging tightly around his head. Harry embraces the moment, rutting his cock into the mattress and he's cumming as well, with little to no touch on his cock at all, moaning against her already sensitive center and she begins twitching away from him, but his tongue is relentless, cleaning her up as he sat in the pleasure of his own orgasm.
When he does pull away he notices Y/N's quivering tummy first, as he licks over his lips again, "That was quick." He murmurs, grinning wide, "Hadn't had my tongue on you for more than a few minutes, and you've already came? Guess it's magical, yeah?"
"Shut up!" She pants, smacking him his shoulder as he laughs, "You came in your pants, so I don't want to hear it."
Harry draws back, working on the button of his trousers, "How could I not, hm?" He asks aloud, "When I've got such a cutie coming undone on my tongue? It would be impractical if I hadn't nut off." He peels both his pants and boxers off of him, kicking them from his feet as he bends down to pick Y/N's forgotten towel up and wipes first her private bits off a little, then swiping away some of the cum that still clung to his cock in all it's sticky glory. He returns to bed when he scouts out a new pair of boxers, and finds a still very naked, very fucked out looking Y/N.
He crawls besides her in bed, pulling her into his lap and wrapping her up in his arms, grinning when she grabs ahold of one of his biceps, "How do you feel?" He asks, and Y/N leans back into him.
"Like I'm on the moon," she tells him, "I've got a question."
Harry hums his response, awaiting it as he picks up her hand and plays with her fingertips.
"Do you think – well, could you bite me?" She asks, "I like it. Feels like you're making me yours, or something, and I like that a whole lot. Want people to know that too, y'know? That you're mine as well, and I feel like that makes them aware of it."
And  oh, isn't that something? She's just as possessive as he is. Wanting a bite for more recreational purposes rather than solely her safety.
Another grin teases it's way on to his mouth, and if he licks over his lips anymore tonight he's sure they're destined to be chapped.
Harry takes her head.
Tilts it to the side.
Then he bites.
Though when he parts this time, something slightly unsuspected happens, but on the other hand, he'd seen it coming the whole night, and scolds himself for not forcing a thick sweater on her.

Y/N sneezes.