Harvard Boy

The end.

She watches him with a spark in her eyes. His hands never leaving her waist, his focus narrowed in on their son. She thinks it's funny, how after everything, this is where they ended up.

Light sun rays dancing across his skin through the window, a beautiful silence enveloping as they watch their child sleep.

Her father's house was eerily quiet today, compared to others. They were alone in the nursery, just as they've been multiple times.

"I think I'll be the favorite." Harry abruptly stated with a mischievous smirk. Eyes dancing with humor, a specific dimple engraved into his smooth skin.

She scoffed lightly, shoving him to the side. "I think you've forgotten the term 'Momma's boy'"

"Oh no, I remember." He took a step closer, eyes darkening as she inched away.

"What're you doing..."

"I'm a Momma's boy." He smiled, before swooping her up.

She yelped, while lightly giggling. Sure to not wake the baby.

The world was justified, and in her mind- fair.

They'd gotten here with time. Months and months of arguing, crying, and forgiving. Shadowed figures of their pasts appearing, then disappearing. New futures crumbling, then rebuilding.

It was hard; it was worth it; it was present.

He'd found a way to forgive, to love. She found a way to let go, to believe.

It was spiraling and uncontrolled, almost as if fate was mimicking 'told you so' In-between each breath they shared.

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"You have to stop calling her. Dean is fine." Harry murmured into her ear, before nudging her focus back to their professor.

Victoria's eyes drew slits at him, while tucking her phone away. "Are you sure she's reliable?"

"Of course, I think I know my own bloody step mum."

Victoria let out a long sigh in recoil.

"Now would you just enjoy our first day back at Uni?" He whispered, hand reaching for her thigh, and lightly squeezing.

She reluctantly gazed up, giving him a knowing look. She was about to reply when he interrupted with another whisper. "Hey, maybe after class we can have sex in the foyer. For old times sake." He bit his lip with a small smile.

Victoria laughed- because he's so unbelievably disgusting, but so unbelievably captivating, that she can't decide who he is anymore.

All she knows, is that she loves him.

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Their apartment was wide, with hard wooden floors, and pristine furniture. The building was filled with life, and bellmen who came at their leisure.

Home, is more or less what they called it.

And Victoria was there, swaying Dean back and forth in her arms. Watching his eyes lull, and the rest of his weight give way against her shoulder. She gently laid him down. Tucking in her three year old with care and admiration.