If I could fly (BOOK 2)

Hear me out

Harry didn't bring it up gently.

He brought it up like something he'd already turned over in his head a hundred times and finally decided not to be afraid of.

"I want you to come with me," he said, leaning against the counter while Y/N fed Darcy, her back to him. "The British Fashion Awards."

She didn't even look up.
"No. Hell no."

Harry smiled faintly. He'd expected that.

"Just hear me out," he said, softer now.

She glanced at him, eyes tired but sharp. "You want me in front of cameras again. After everything that just happened."

"I want you with me," he said. "Not on display. There's a difference."

She shifted Darcy against her shoulder, rubbing her back instinctively. "And what about her?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "I flew my mum in."

That stopped her.

"She's already on her way," he added. "She wants the night with her. Proper night. No interruptions. She promised not to send you a hundred pictures unless you ask."

Y/N laughed quietly despite herself, then looked down at Darcy's sleepy face. "You planned this already."

"Yes," he admitted. "Because I knew you'd talk yourself out of it if I didn't."

She sighed, long and slow. "You're unfair."

Harry stepped closer, resting his hand on Darcy's back, thumb brushing lightly. "I'll keep you safe. And if it's too much-if you feel overwhelmed-we leave. No explanations. No guilt."

She studied his face for a long moment, searching for doubt.

There wasn't any.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if I panic-"

"I've got you," he said immediately.

⸻

The night of the awards felt heavier the moment Y/N stepped into the room.

Harry actually froze.

She wore black-tight, structured, hugging her body like it was designed for her alone. Red accents traced clean lines against the fabric, matching the sharp red and black stripes of his suit. Her makeup was darker than usual, dramatic cat-eye making her eyes look fierce, lips bold. Her hair fell perfectly, polished but still her.

Harry swallowed hard.

"Christ," he muttered. "You're sex in heels."

She smirked. "You're wearing stripes. I had to keep up."

He couldn't stop touching her. A hand at her waist. Fingers brushing her lower back. Thumb hooking into her palm when things felt too loud. It wasn't possessive-it was grounding. For both of them.

The boys clocked it instantly.

Louis squinted at Harry. "We're not even here, are we?"

Niall nodded solemnly. "He hasn't blinked in five minutes."

Zayn smirked. "He won't as long as she's dressed like that."

Liam adjusted his jacket. "Right. Everyone behave."

No one behaved.

⸻

Just before stepping onto the carpet, Harry stopped walking.

Security paused. Photographers leaned in.

Harry turned-not to Y/N, not to the boys-but directly to the press coordinator and the line of cameras.

"No questions about my daughter or even Yn," he said clearly. Calm. Steady. Not raised, but unmistakable. "No shouting. No pushing. You cross that line, we leave."

Someone tried to speak.

Harry didn't let them.

"I'm not asking," he added.

Then he took Y/N's hand and stepped forward.

The flashes exploded instantly.

Harry kept her close, body angled just enough to shield without hiding her. His hand stayed firm at her waist. Tight. When someone shouted something that crossed the line, Harry stopped walking entirely.

Security reacted immediately.

The message was clear.

Moments later, the boys joined them-and the atmosphere shifted completely. Yn stepped to the side for a moment.

Harry stood
Louis threw himself into a dramatic pose.
Niall waved like it was a parade.
Liam tried (and failed) to herd them into a neat line.
Zayn stood effortlessly cool, letting the chaos orbit him.

Photographers laughed. The tension broke.

Harry leaned down, lips brushing Y/N's ear. "You alright?"

She nodded, a real smile now. "I am. I actually am."

⸻

Inside, the noise softened into something manageable.

Harry never let go.

His hand stayed warm against her back, fingers laced with hers under tables, quiet check-ins whispered when things got loud again. Every time she caught him watching her, there was something intense there-not just attraction, but pride. Certainty.

"This is our first night out like this," she murmured at one point.

"I know," he said. "And I'm not letting anyone take it from us."

The boys interrupted constantly, as expected.

Louis dragged Harry away for photos.
Niall complained about seating and snacks.
Liam tried to organize drinks.
Zayn stayed near Y/N, easy and steady.

"You're doing really well," Zayn told her simply.

She smiled. "Thanks. That actually helps."

⸻

When they finally slipped back into the car, Harry let out a breath he'd been holding for hours.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Thank you for trusting me."

She kissed him softly. "Thank you for standing your ground."

Back at the hotel, Anne was waiting-Darcy asleep in her arms, peaceful and warm.

Y/N melted instantly, arms wrapping around them both. Harry kissed his mum's cheek.

"She was perfect," Anne whispered. "Didn't fuss once."

Harry took Darcy gently, his whole body softening the second she settled against him, tiny fingers curling into his shirt.

The night had been loud. Bright. Watched.

But standing there-his daughter in his arms, Y/N beside him, the world finally quiet-Harry knew something deep and immovable.

This wasn't about surviving the spotlight anymore.

It was about choosing each other