Poppy/H.S

Chapter 50

Harry's POV

I chuckle at how adorable she looks, doing her very best to unbuckle my belt, but fails every time. I can't help but admire the beautiful pout on her lips, indicating how frustrated she is. Not wanting to torture her any longer, I gently brush her hands away, decided to take the matter into my own hands and undo the belt on my own.

"Condoms are in the drawer," I let her know while I continue working on my belt, referring to my nightstand.

She nods her head in satisfaction, giving me a small smile as she listens to my instructions and leans towards the nightstand, pleasing me with a marvelous view of her ass, which looks just divine.

I have to admit, I'm still trying to get over the memory of her cumming on my face twice in a row, dying to know when I'll be blessed by going down on her again. Her taste still lingers on my tongue, and I swear that the realisation of winning her over and her being my girlfriend, makes me feel happier than any award I've ever won, the Grammy's included.

I furrow my brows when I hear her gasp, concerned about what startled her so much. I freeze when I realise which drawer she's just opened, and I do everything I can to make her close it before she can see the picture I promised to hide from her beautiful eyes.

"No, no, I meant the other-"

"Harry, what is this?" She asks me directly, seeing answers to what she has just seen, and I realise there's no way I could explain this to her without scaring her off.

She's holding a drawing of Poppy's, which differs from any other pictures she's drawn.

Of course, this one portrays the three of us; Valentine, Poppy and me. This has been a common motive of her drawings lately, but above the three hand-drawn figures are three words written by her kindergarten teacher in cursive followed by an exclamation point, which definitely is what shocked Valentine so much, and I can't blame her.

She's just found a drawing which says 'Happy Mother's Day!' on it, and even though I explained to her several times in the past that I'm not in contact with Poppy's mother, I can tell this is the first thing that comes to her mind as she lets her anxiety walk all over her once again. Her eyes are glossy, and hurt. They're not as shiny and bright as they were a few minutes ago, when we were teasing each other.

I'm scared she's questioning everything I told her about Poppy's mother and how Poppy was conceived. I'm scared she thinks I was lying, and that makes my heart shatter into small pieces, falling out of my chest a forming a debris on the ground.

"I-I can explain," I sigh, struggling to find the right words.

Both of us are hurting right now, but not because of the same thing. Her eyes tell me she thinks I made the most traumatic event I've ever witnessed up. I wish my eyes couldn't see the betrayal of her trust displayed on her face, when this, in fact, is a huge misunderstanding.

I try to think of a clever way how to explain to Valentine what the drawing actually means and why it's been hidden in my drawer without breaking the promise I made to Poppy.

I understand that she might be looking at the drawing from a different point of view, which would explain why she looks utterly confused and disappointed.

I wish I knew how to explain this to her without scaring her off.

I close my eyes and the flashback starts, as I'm taken back to the night when I thought my daughter was asleep, but she showed up at my bedroom door and asked to talk to me about something important while we cuddled.

I remember her bringing up Mother's Day, as it was only a few days away, and telling me about the activity they did in kindergarten that day. She was enthusiastic about having made a card, and the clueless me thought she made it for my mum, like she did every other year.