This story is the second part of: #23-The Condom Broke. If you haven't read it yet, you might want to check it out first.
Harry:
The days that followed after the incident were tense, the uncertainty weighing on both of you. Harry tried to keep things light, cracking jokes at breakfast or playfully chasing the kids around the house, but you could see the flickers of concern in his eyes every time they met yours.
You had yet to discuss the situation in detail—there was no way to know anything for certain until you took a test. Still, the possibility hung in the air, unspoken but omnipresent.
One morning, you found yourself standing in the bathroom, staring at the small box in your hand. The test. Harry had bought it the day before, quietly slipping it onto the kitchen counter while the kids were playing in the living room.
"You don't have to do it today," he'd said gently, brushing a kiss against your temple. "But whenever you're ready, I'll be right here."
Now, as the house hummed with the distant sound of cartoons and children's laughter, you finally worked up the courage. Your hands shook as you followed the instructions, and then there was nothing left to do but wait.
Harry must have sensed your anxiety because moments later, he appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his green eyes soft as they met yours.
"How are you holding up, love?"
You gestured to the counter where the test lay face down. "Just waiting."
Harry crossed the room and pulled you into his arms. His embrace was strong, steady—the same way it had been the night of the condom mishap. "Whatever it says," he murmured, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head, "we'll figure it out."
The timer on your phone buzzed, and your stomach flipped. Harry felt you tense and pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "Do you want me to look first?"
You hesitated, then nodded. "I don't think I can."
Harry gave you a reassuring smile, one you knew was more for your benefit than his, and reached for the test. His expression remained neutral as he flipped it over, but the slight widening of his eyes betrayed him.
"What does it say?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at you, his lips pressing together before he answered. "It's positive."
For a moment, everything seemed to slow. The weight of his words settled over you, and your knees felt weak. Harry caught you before you could stumble, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
"You're okay," he said firmly, crouching in front of you and holding your hands. "Breathe, love. Just breathe."
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you shook your head. "Harry, we already have three kids. How are we supposed to do this again? I don't know if I can—"
He cut you off with a soft kiss, his hands cupping your face. "You can," he said against your lips, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "You're the strongest person I know. And we're not doing this alone. We've got each other, yeah? We've always been a team, and this doesn't change that."
His words began to sink in, though the fear still lingered. "But what if it's too much? What if we can't handle it?"
Harry smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "We didn't think we could handle the first one, remember? And then the second came along, and we made it work. And the third..." He chuckled softly. "Well, they were a surprise too, and look how much joy they've brought us."
