mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

n. make sure that you check out my new fanfic, initiate! 

— CHAPTER SIXTEEN —

september, year two.

It's around midnight when Harry and I finally settle into bed. "My heart," I whisper to him, not quite sure why I am whispering, "is really, very full."

Harry's head turns towards me. The room is dark but for the twinkling lights from the projector that he had bought me for the Christmas before he proposed. He had intended to propose to me that night, I later found out. After the opportunity arose for us to go back to Times Square for New Years Eve, he quickly adjusted his plans.

I can see the paleness reflected in his green eyes and he looks at me with such an ardent, earnest truth that I can feel the way my heart begins to thump more aggressively in my chest. Like a little girl, I swear that every time I see him feels like the first time I fell in love with him over and over again. Fortunately, I show no sign of getting tired of this pattern. Spending the rest of my life in this continual loop and I still doubt if I'll have enough time to love and by loved by this man.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his chest falls up and down and his eyes soak me in. My hand is on his chest, stroking up and down the warm skin on pure level of instinct. Up and down, I can feel the way that he settles into my pattern and movements. Moments like these are moments that I cherish just as much as the moments when we are doing something that should be otherwise regarded as memorable: the picnic on my birthday, the date where he took me out with the lanterns, the proposal in Times Square—the place that he first realized he was in love with me, our first sporadic wedding in Vegas, the second wedding with all of our friends in our backyard, the birth of our daughter, and any number of the other special moments that we've shared. Those moments are the ones that I hold close, but so are the moments like these: the moments where we are laying in bed and talking after a day that we've shared; the sweeter, softer moments.

"Is it because the house is full?" He finally says, speaking the words on an exhale. Though he had been looking at me before, he now rotates his whole body so that he is facing me. One arm drapes around my waist, his fingers splaying under the material of my shirt against the bare skin of my back. They skim and trace there absently, his focus instead being on my words and every subtle change to my expression.

"I think so," I admit, relishing in the way that my husband knows me so well.

Harry nods and doesn't say anything again. He seems to be letting the information soak in. "Are you not satisfied when it's just us?" He asks after a moment, his fingers tightening as he prepares himself for the answer. There's a sort of fear coming from him. It's not insecurity in the traditional sense, but a sort of anxiety that I've realized that I want more than just him. I am familiar with the feeling. Content as I am in and with our relationship, there are times in which I dread the moment that he realizes that he is worth so much more than just me. Times like these, I want to take his face in my hands and kiss every inch of it, reassuring him that he never has to fear not being enough for me.

"Not at all," I shake my head, my hair rustling agains the pillow. My fingers reach up from his chest to stroke along his cheek. He relaxes into the gesture. "You're more than enough for me. I just like the company around. I like it when the house is full. I spent so much time on my own growing up and that was fine. That's how I learned to be. But now—because of you—I realized life doesn't have to be that way. It just makes me happy having all of our friends around. It's nice to feel needed."

The words bring a small smile to Harry's lips. Instinctively, he puckers his lips and presses a gentle kiss against my roaming fingers. His eyes cloud with absolute adoration. "You're always needed, mama. Edie will always need you—"