slipping through my fingers (h.s)

she's having his baby girl

"It's going to be a little bit cold, I'm sorry darling," Your midwife apologised, as you flinched slightly when you felt the cold gel being swiped over your swollen stomach. Despite already having many scans done for the baby, you never got used to the feeling. Harry was sat on the end of the bed, his fingers curled firmly around yours, brows furrowed slightly. Anne had told you that pregnancy always seemed to last forever- but now you were over 20 weeks, you weren't sure you actually agreed with her.

"And there's your heartbeat," She smiled, turning the screen slightly so that you could see it better. Harry peered in closer, a line forming in-between his eyebrows like it always did when he was confused, but his dimples were still showing through his cheeks. He exhaled loudly before breaking into an awkward laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just you were quiet for ages then," He joked, but you could tell that there was a hint of seriousness in his voice.

She began to laugh as well, looking him up and down whilst adjusting her hair slightly. "No Mr Styles, everything looks absolutely fine," She chuckled. "Did you want to find out the gender now, or should I keep it a secret?"

Harry smiled. "My final guess is that it's a girl in there. I think she's going to be as feisty as you," he smirked, winking at you. "I want to know, but only if you do, baby,"

You giggled, convinced you could feel the tiny person moving around inside your middle at that very moment.

"I don't know," you sighed. "I'm going to say I think it's a boy, just to piss you off,"

Harry's eyes flitted between yours and the midwife's, who was now smirking at the tension she had created between you and Harry.

"Please just tell us," He sighed, making his breaths slightly exaggerated. "This is torture,"

"It's a..." She laughed again at Harry's wide-eyed expression. "It's a girl,"

Harry immediately jumped off of the bed, beginning to hop around the room. "I win! I'm going to be a girl daddy!"

You scoffed at him galloping around the place as though he was still a child. "We're going to have a little girl, baby,"

"And guess what Harry? It's none of your business," You broke out sarcastically, in the tune of kiwi. He burst out laughing, before smooching you on the forehead, massaging your swollen tummy at the same time. He felt his stomach warm a little, the way that it always did when he was about to sing. He lent up close to where she sat inside of you, as his lips formed the tune so softly.

"You're having my baby, it's definitely my business,"