Harry:
It started out as a simple evening at one of Harry's friends' places—a small gathering with a few people he'd known for years. You'd been a little nervous about going, but Harry had assured you everything would be fine.
"They'll love you," he said with that charming smile, lacing his fingers through yours as you arrived.
At first, everything seemed fine. Harry stayed close to you, introducing you to everyone, and the conversations were polite, if a little distant. But as the evening wore on, and Harry stepped away to grab drinks or chat with someone else, things shifted.
"So, what's it like?" one of his friends asked with a smirk.
"What's what like?" you replied, confused.
"Dating Harry," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Must be nice, huh? All the private jets, designer clothes, and fancy dinners. Living the dream, aren't you?"
The insinuation hit you like a slap. You tried to laugh it off. "I'm not with Harry for his money, if that's what you're suggesting."
Another friend chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, of course not. You're just here for him, right? Not the lifestyle or the perks."
Their words stung, but you didn't want to make a scene. You glanced around, hoping Harry would come back soon, but he was still across the room, deep in conversation.
"Look," you said, keeping your voice steady, "I care about Harry. That's all there is to it."
One of them leaned closer, his voice low and sharp. "Don't think we don't see right through you. And don't even think about telling Harry what we said. If you do, we'll make sure you regret it."
Your stomach twisted in knots. You wanted to stand up for yourself, but the threat in his tone froze you in place.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. You stuck close to Harry, but your usual warmth and laughter were replaced by strained smiles and quiet nods. Harry noticed, of course, but didn't press you—at least, not yet.
---
Over the next few days, Harry's concern grew. You were quieter than usual, distracted, and seemed to shrink into yourself whenever he mentioned his friends.
"Love, what's going on?" he asked one evening as the two of you curled up on the couch.
"Nothing," you said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired, that's all."
But Harry wasn't buying it. "You've been 'tired' for days now. Did something happen? Was it something I did?"
The worry in his eyes nearly broke you. You wanted to tell him, but the memory of Tom's threat held you back.
"No, Harry, it's not you," you said softly, avoiding his gaze.
"Then what is it?" he pressed, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're not yourself, and it's killing me to see you like this."
That was when the dam broke. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out.
"It's your friends," you admitted, your voice shaking. "They... they don't like me. They think I'm only with you for your money, and they... they told me not to tell you."
Harry's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, and then to anger. "What?" he said, his voice low and tense.
You nodded, wiping at your tears. "They said if I told you, they'd make sure I regretted it. I didn't want to cause problems between you and them, but I couldn't keep it in anymore."
