Personal Assistant ➵ H.S.

45

It had been just under two weeks since the incriminating video of Harry had been released and the consequential suing Liam had appalled him with.

In that time, Victoria had arrived like a bad omen at the office one dreary morning last week which only meant one thing; the date had been set for the court case. Settled for mid February, it gave her and Harry around a month or so of prep - figuring out what plan of action to take, the high chance of counter-suing and always trying to calculate and guess what Liam's reasoning for all of this was.

The office had been on eggshells almost everyday in anticipation of what mood Harry would arrive in. Some days were much better than others; he managed to crack a smile and appear relatively positive and unbothered by the grey cloud that was following him around. But then there were the days that he was sullen, quick-tempered and completely unsure of himself which occurred much more than the good days.

You of course, could usually predict how Harry was going to be. By now, regardless of everything going on, you'd practically moved into his apartment. Even though a small part of you knew it was partly because you didn't really want to leave him alone to wallow and think himself into oblivion, it didn't come across like that at all - more as a natural step in your relationship. But of course living with Harry like this meant you were able to read him like a book more than ever before.

The only downside was that sometimes, because you'd never seen Harry going through these specific feelings that usually boiled down from his own self-hate, you didn't always know how to deal with it.

Sometimes you got it spot on; cornering him with positive words until he was nodding assuredly or forcing him to sit through your silly jokey antics until he couldn't help the smile crack on his face or even sometimes, just walking into his office and locking the door and sinking to your knees or letting him take his frustration out on railing you against the wall.

But other times Harry could be in a mood so impenetrable, you felt utterly lost and useless.

You had to remind yourself that he was going through a very unique thing, so unexpected and unfair, and that experiencing something like that while having you as his girlfriend meant it was a learning curve for you just as much as it was for Harry.

Because of this, you made sure to never make him feel as though his ever-changing palette of emotions was a burden on you - which was the complete truth.

The only way it made you feel, seeing him so adrift and laking his usual glow, was unwaveringly angry.

You didn't characterise yourself as an angry person at all, but what you certainly were was loyal. And downright stubborn, demanding and not one to be pushed around. Which meant you certainly had a hard time trying to reign in the absolute hate you had for sitting around and doing nothing when so much about this whole ordeal was just remarkably suspicious and fallacious.

Ever since that fateful first day back at work, you'd struggled to get to sleep at night, tossing and turning with impatience and a peevishness at how no good ideas of how to rescue Harry from this colossal mess had come to you yet.

Because it was about time you rescued him after the amount of times he'd rescued you.

And it just seemed that no-one saw it with the same fervour as you; you knew there were lots of trustworthy people around Harry who knew situations like this inside and out, but they just seemed to be sitting back and preparing Harry like a pig for slaughter.

To say it didn't sit right with you was an understatement.

But then last night, you and Harry had settled on the sofa after dinner flicking on the TV to find From Russia With Love playing. Harry instantly got into the antics of Bond and you were about to go and get some nail varnish to paint your fingernails, when the current scene playing caught your interest.