Harry:
The apartment was quiet—a nearly unfamiliar stillness after your three children had spent the entire day at Harry's parents' house. You had taken the evening to enjoy a proper date, your first in months. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a couple of drinks, and finally, hand in hand, you had walked home, brimming with excitement for a night that was just yours.
Now, you were lying in bed with Harry, his hands exploring your body, his lips caressing every curve they touched. It felt familiar, yet special, because moments like these had become rare.
"I've missed this," he murmured against your skin as he hovered over you. You could only nod, the words caught in your throat, overwhelmed by his closeness.
Harry's breath was warm against your neck, his weight a comforting familiarity pressing down on you. It was as if everything around you had ceased to exist—no sleepless nights, no packed schedules, no obligations. Just the two of you, like before, when everything had been simpler.
You pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his soft curls, a soft sigh escaping you as his lips trailed across your shoulder. It felt so good, so right, as if, for a moment, you could shed all the responsibilities weighing you down.
Harry was gentle, loving, yet insistent, just as he always was. He knew you inside and out, knew exactly how to make you tremble, and he did so with devotion. Your fingers glided over his back, tracing the familiar contours of his body as you both became lost in your shared passion.
As you both neared the peak of your intimacy, you suddenly felt something different. It was more intense, more direct—and it took you a moment to realize what it was. A thought shot through your mind, but before you could voice it, it was already too late. Harry buried his face in your neck, his movements slowing as his body shuddered with release.
The silence that followed was different from before. It was heavier, charged with tension. You opened your mouth to speak, but it was Harry who broke the quiet first.
"Was that... different than usual?" His voice was quiet, strained, as if he already knew the answer.
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. "Yes," you finally admitted, the word barely escaping your lips.
Harry slowly pulled away and reached for the condom, now limp against him. One look was all it took for his expression to shift immediately. "Shit," he muttered, letting his head fall back against the headboard. "It broke."
You stared at him, your body frozen. The weight of his words began to sink in, panic building in your chest.
"Harry," you began hesitantly, your voice trembling slightly, "we can't have another baby. You know it just wouldn't—"
"I know," he interrupted, sitting up and burying his face in his hands. "Damn it, I know." Harry lowered his hands and looked at you, his green eyes serious but calm. "But I don't want you to take the morning-after pill."
You blinked, surprised, a mix of relief and confusion washing over you. "What? Harry, we have to do something. The risks—"
"I know the risks," he interrupted gently but firmly. "And I also know the side effects the pill can have. You told me how awful it was for you when you had to take it before. I don't want you to go through that again, not ever."
For a moment, you could only look at him. His words, his care—they were exactly what you'd always loved about him. But reality couldn't be ignored.
"Harry, what if...?" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, but he understood immediately.
