prosecco extras

the gala

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Harry pretended as if he wasn't sneaking peeks through the bathroom mirror as he trailed back and forth over the tile, tie hanging limply around his neck as he took his time knotting it. (Y/N) was still perfecting the styling of her hair, a hot tool in hand as she twisted and turned in the mirror, brows knitted in concentration at every angle. The very tip of her tongue stretched out between her lips as she pinched a section of hair between her fingers, tracing the tool over the strands in a careful run.

"Do you need help with that, H?" (Y/N) chirped, dropping the now styled bit of hair as she flicked her gaze to the man pacing behind her.

Her eyes traveled over the set he had donned for the company dinner party he was escorting her to, the same reaction she had given when he first shrugged into the crisp button up and well-tailored pants. The sleek grey lines of his suit were different than the casual blazer combos he tended to prefer when he took her out on more extravagant dates, but the polarity seemed just what was drawing her eye to the way he fiddled about.

"No, I've got it," he told her, biting back his smile, "I jus' keep getting distracted."

It was the way he looked at her that told her exactly what was stealing his attention, leaving (Y/N) to grow flustered as she dropped her gaze in the mirror. "Sorry," she told him, now mimicking the way he had to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to stave off a sheepish smile.

"Don't be sorry," he smiled, finally relenting and finishing the knot of his tie, "'S a good distraction. You're looking very pretty already."

"I'm not even finished yet," she said, placing the hot tool down now that she'd perfected the bits she could spy in the mirror, "I still have to finish my makeup and get dressed."

Trailing his gaze down her hair, Harry spotted a stray section that didn't match the pattern she had created with the hot tool. "Exactly," he smiled, reaching around her for her styling tool of choice while it was still hot, "Y'can only get even prettier from here, which doesn't seem possible, but y'prove me wrong every time."

"What are you doing?" she asked, following his hands as he took the styling tool behind her back.

"Jus' missed a piece," he mumbled, pinching the section in question. After all the times he'd seen her do the same thing to her hair, it wasn't hard to figure out how to operate the tool as he went in careful, timed runs over the pieces. "Have y'picked out your dress yet?" he asked her, distracted some as he worked.

"Huh?"

Harry had to bite back his laugh at her response. He flicked his gaze up to match hers in the mirror while he continued his work on her hair. "Your dress. I know y'were between those two, have y'decided yet?"

"Oh, sorry," she said, blinking harshly as if to regain her attention from where she began daydreaming with him in the rearview. "I haven't picked yet, no. I need to before I do my makeup, though, but I just don't know."

Pursing his lips, Harry combed through her hair with his fingers as he searched for any other stray strands. "What's making it hard to decide?"

"I don't know," she mused, staying still with the help of his hand on her shoulder as he reached for a tucked away section at the back of her neck, "I don't—Neither of them... I don't know."

Finished with his impromptu styling session, Harry replaced the hot tool on the counter before unplugging the cord. Looking to her face, he noticed too much apprehension there to be the same girl that he had woken up beside this morning. He didn't like seeing her flounder for her words like that or pluck at the stray string on her bathrobe (it was his, really, but she was borrowing it).