Beg ✟ h.s. au (M)

t w e n t y - t h r e e

"An intellectual is a person who's found one thing that's more interesting than sex."

I'm a girl who likes to wear short, dark things, and yet here I am. Standing in a floor fucking length dress a brighter shade of red than the damn flowers outside.

I'm a girl who doesn't do prom, and where the fuck am I going on a free Saturday evening? All for what? For Harry?

Why do I care all of the sudden? Why do I have this aching feeling of guilt eating away at me every time I see his face light up when he sees me? But then again I can't deny the warm feeling I get in the pit of my stomach whenever we're together. And I think that's what scares me the most; the fact that we don't have to even be engaging in something physical to get the fucking butterflies in my gut.

He's changing me, and tonight is a prime example of just that.

I clench my teeth together as I take a final look at myself in the floor length mirror in my room. The red dress hugging my torso perfectly, the rest of the dress edging out like that of a princess.

And if I were a normal girl, I would definitely feel like one. But, quite frankly, I feel out of place. I don't deserve to be the girl someone like Harry takes to prom. I don't deserve to have the dream night most girls look forward to.

I don't deserve any of this, and yet I'm allowing myself to act as if I do.

The blonde curls ascend down my back as I prepare myself for the night, grabbing a few essentials and throwing them in my clutch. As I go to place my phone in the purse, it vibrates and the scree brightens with the words...

'Message from: Harryissocoolurjealous '

I chuckle lightly at the ridiculous name he gave himself and open the message.

I'm outside your house, and may or may not be coming to the door just like you asked me NOT to do... oops?

"I swear this kid is gonna be the death of me!" I mutter to myself as I start to rush myself down the stairs. Of all nights my mother didn't have to work, and was surprisingly sober, it'd have to be tonight.

Her worn out appearance was the the first thing I saw at the opened door letting in the light from outside. She looked so tired, so washed up. She had managed to get a night off in what felt like forever. She stated that she had wanted to be here for something like prom. Granted her lack there of appearance in my life, she had her moments. And tonight I suppose was one of those.

"You must be Harry." My said more matter-of-factly with a small grin. She moved aside to allow Harry to come in. Even from my halfway mark on the staircase, I could see how perfect he looked. The black suit fitted to his body, and the matching shade of red on his tie brought out the contrast of his never ending sea of green in his eyes.

I didn't deserve him, but I'm quite the selfish person.

"Yes, and you must be Mrs. Masters. A pleasure to meet you ma'am." He greeted her politely, making his way into the house. My presence still unaware to him.

"Oh please, call me Debra." She rasped out, followed by her smokers cough. She smiled an apologetic grin at him after her fit, their interaction growing awkward. After my father had run out on us years ago, she never went by her surname anymore as it would just remind her of him.

"Where is Stella exactly?" He asked my mother.

"She's upstairs getting ready. Should be down soon." She answered moving to sit down on the sofa after closing the old, pale door. "Are you and my daughter dating?"