A Dreamers Dream

Is it too late now to say sorry? The hotel, Mexico City, Mexico.

"Sshhh, Trouble, it's OK, I'm OK I promise. I'm not going to pretend that watching that video wasn't one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I wanted to somehow jump through the screen and rip that arseholes head off of his shoulders. I wish I hadn't let Mitch pull me off him in the club, if I'd known then what I know now... Well, to be honest, I'd probably be in prison. Which would have put a real dampener on the tour." Harry attempts to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle, and I feel my shoulders drop down just a little bit from their raised position up by my ears. "But it was worth it, because, after I'd watched the video after I'd seen what he'd done to you, I was able to make a copy. I went back to the hotel, and I sent it to Novak's bosses in London, and their sister office in LA too for good measure, and after a few phone calls back and forth, of course, he tried to deny everything despite it being on fucking film, dickhead, anyways, they fired him, Maddie. He'll never work in this business again."

For a few moments, I just stand there in silence, completely shocked by his words, his actions. That even after I kicked him out of my room and basically pushed him away, this kind, caring man of mine still went to all this trouble for me. It didn't even occur to me to wonder if the venue had any kind of security camera's around, or even to contact them to find out the name of the kind Brazilian man who came to my rescue that night. All I did was sit in my room and hide away from the world and ignore my boyfriend, whilst he ran around the streets of Sao Paulo and made international phone calls all night. I don't deserve him.

"Harry I.. I don't know what to say. You didn't have to do all that, especially after how I treated you." I mumble quietly. Unable to meet his eyes, I peer down at our conjoined hands, staring at one of his many rings, a large intricately carved rose, and focusing on the curves of the petals intently. When he slowly pulls one of his hands out of mine and raises it, placing his index finger gently under my chin to raise my face to look at his, I have to suppress the desire to flinch and pull away. The memories of another hand reaching out and touching me intimately all too fresh in my mind, but this is just Harry, my Harry.

"Of course I did! Fucking hell Maddie that man deserves to be locked up! If you'd have let Sammy call the police that night they'd have done exactly the same thing, but you didn't want her to, and as much as I understood that, I knew that something had to be done. I couldn't let him get away with it, not again. Especially after I saw the video. I'd do anything to stop you from having to go through that again Trouble, absolutely fucking anything. Making a few calls and sending a couple of emails was nothing." There is so much hatred in his voice that for a moment he doesn't sound like my Harry any more. I've never heard him like this, it's not the same as the anger he expressed during our argument that night, not even the same as when Novak attacked me the first time. This time its more personal, this time he had to witness it, and it's scarred him. He's an unfailingly kind man, and he cannot understand how anyone could behave the way that that wanker did. It's completely alien to him.

"He's been fired though? Really? So he can't do what he did to me to some other unsuspecting woman who walks into his office hoping to achieve her dreams?" I say timidly, not quite daring to believe that it's true.

"Really really. And people in this business talk, believe me, Trouble, there's no way anyone else is going to hire him after how he behaved. And I'll be keeping an eye on him, if anyone is stupid enough to give him a job, I'll make sure he doesn't keep it for long. I wonder though, about involving the police, are you sure you don't want to? I still have a copy of the video, it wouldn't take much for you to give them a statement and press charges.."

"I, I don't think that I can go through it all again Harry, honestly, I just want to try and forget that it ever happened. I am grateful that you went to so much trouble and I am so relieved that he has had to pay in some way for what he did, but I just don't think I can handle having to tell a complete stranger what happened, even if they are wearing a uniform. Not to mention, I'd no doubt have to go back to Brazil in order to give a statement, and they'd probably want me to watch the video and confirm that it is me in it and I just can't. I'm sorry." I blurt out quickly, the words falling from my lips in a blur, as much as I know that the sensible thing to do would be to go to the police, I know I am not strong enough to face all of that.

"I understand," Harry says, nodding his head. "You don't need to keep apologising, seriously we need to work on your habit of doing that all the time. But if you change your mind, at any time, you just tell me, OK? I'll be right here with you whatever you want to do, I promise." He says, and his words instantly soothe me.

"Thank you. I don't deserve you, Harry." I reply solemnly, trying to swallow back the tears that are threatening to spill again at the pain in his voice.

"Pfft. You do talk some shit sometimes you know that right? You deserve a hell

of a lot more than me." Harry chuckles as a smile, lights up his beautiful face. "Besides, what more could I do for the woman I love?" He asks seriously.

"I love you too. Now, shut up and kiss me."

"Thought you'd never ask." He says as he steps forward and wraps an arm tightly around my waist, pulling me close to him. This time, as his hand reaches up to caress my cheek, I don't feel the need to flinch away, this is my safe place, the place where no one can hurt me. Right here, in his arms.

As Harry walks out on stage later that night at the Palacio des Los Deportes arena in Mexico City, I am standing proudly at the back of the pit, arm in arm with Sammy and ready to enjoy the show. Although she was clearly a little confused when I suggested that we hang around to watch tonight, she didn't question me on it. I just told her that after everything the last few days, I needed to let my hair down a bit and that she is the one always telling me to make the most of being on tour, what better way to do that than to join the legions of screaming fans in the pit at the show and watch our boss do what he does best? So here we are, clad in our tour issue TPWK T-shirts, ready to enjoy the concert.

When Harry steps out on stage I feel my breath catch in my throat, and I have to make a real effort not to drool. He is wearing a truly Mexican inspired suit for the occasion, a black number adorned with flowers and complete with bright red glittery fringe on both of the arms, an open white shirt finishes the look off perfectly. I can hear from the screams and shouts of the fans around us that everyone here is appreciating getting a glimpse of his bare, tattoo-covered chest, something I hope to get to inspect much more closely later on tonight provided I can sneak up to Harry's room without Sammy noticing after the takedown.

I'm sure that the events from the last few days have taken their toll on him, not to mention the horrid cold that he's fighting. Still, there is no sign that anything is amiss as he prances around the stage with as much energy as any other time I've seen him perform. Interacting with his fans and looking like he's having the time of his life. I can't help but notice that he cuts a couple of notes off a little earlier than he has done during the previous shows that I've watched and that his stuffy nose is causing his voice to sound even deeper than usual. However, despite that, he still sounds amazing and has the entire crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. During Stockholm Syndrome, I am actually slightly concerned that I might end up going deaf due to the sheer volume of the crowd around me screeching out every lyric back to him in perfect English. You'd never know we were in the middle of Central America, other than by Harry's suit of course.

There is an amazing moment just before What makes you Beautiful which reminds me that the fans outside the hotel earlier today were the minority and that not all of Harry's fans are quite that intense when Harry's sharp eyes spot a little girl in the crowd, and he quickly hops down onto one of the speakers in front of the stage to have a little chat with the pint-sized fan. It turns out little Sophia is just eight years old, and she is utterly adorable clutching her pride flag in her tiny hands and answering Harry's questions in a loud, clear voice, not at all concerned to be speaking to a packed out arena of screaming fans. Harry seems to fall instantly in love with her, as do most of the rest of the crowd I think, but I almost get a little bit jealous when he dedicates the track to her, I wonder for a moment if he'd ever dedicate a song to me like that and have to shake myself back to reality so that I can enjoy the rest of the show, which of course, goes off without a hitch as always and if anything, is better than the last one I watched, I swear he just keeps getting better and better, or maybe, I just keep falling for him more and more.