On Top [H.S.]

Chapter 33

Ophelia's POV

It took ten days.

Ten fucking days for Harry to fully recover from the attack.

A part of me thinks he fully recovered on day five or six and just milked it for the last few days because he liked the attention but honestly, I wouldn't even be mad if that was true. I had no complaints being by his side so much over this last week and a bit.

Getting Harry back on his feet was a pain in the ass though. He was so annoying.

One minute he'd be pissy that I had to help him with a simple mundane task, then the other minute he'd play the helpless, injured boyfriend who couldn't move his legs from off of me until I had painted his toes.

Alternate green and yellow nails at that.

He was pissed that we couldn't do anything 'special' for Valentines Day, but I was more than content with our plans of just staying in. We had ordered our favourite sushi, had a bottle of Harry's favourite wine, and had a Harry Potter movie marathon as per Harry's request because they "share the same fucking name."

We had a solid twenty minute debate over which movie is the best one. I told him it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban just like Jenna's is, while Harry was insistent that the best one was Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

He's wrong.

Safe to say we settled that argument with a nice little make out session before we finally decided to settle down and watch the damn things.

I even brought Elvis over to stay the night at Harry's place. I've been feeling like a shit mother to him. Between work and taking care of Harry, I've rarely been home. It was only just to feed him and clean his litter really, so I was starting to feel pretty guilty about that.

I think Harry could tell because he told me to just bring Elvis and have him stay at his. I wasn't so sure about it at first, but Harry assured me that he "wanted to see his favourite man." I couldn't say no to him after that.

I find it hard to say no to him in general.

Elvis had actually adjusted pretty well, and he even found a new obsession — the bird. The poor thing probably had a stroke when he turned his head to see a white fur ball staring him down like he was his next meal.

Even though Harry claims to give zero shits about the bird, it was funny watching him try and pry Elvis away from the window so that he didn't scare the bird away. He had to do this multiple times, each one unsuccessful.

He can say what he wants about hating the little guy, but even when he was completely battered the night of the drug run he still attempted to get up and feed the damn thing.

It really is his pet.

I don't think I've ever been so scared in my entire life than when I turned down the hallway and saw Harry standing there with Connor, looking like he had just been mauled by a fucking bear.

I didn't even know he was conscious at first with how droopy his eyes were.

He looked so lifeless. I can't forget the way my heart started racing seeing the blood all over him. His lip was gushing blood, and he could barely even stand up on his own.

Absolutely gut-wrenching.

I was terrified to even touch him. I didn't know where he was hurt and that was internally freaking me out, but I knew that I couldn't show it on my face or Harry would focus his attention on me instead of himself.