Harry Imagine!

"(Y/N)! I told you, you look beautiful! Now hurry up, we have to go!"

You are upstairs, fastening the last couple of hooks on your dress. You stare at yourself as this is the first time you would be in public eye since you were diagnosed with cancer. Stray locks of fragile, golden brown, curled hair are put back into your bobby pin on the side of your head. You breathe in and take in your more than limp state. "...Ready." you say to yourself forgetting that someone downstairs was waiting on a reply as well.

You're startled as Harry slides his hand on the silver knob, twisting it open.

"(Y/N), what's the problem?" his recent frustration now turned into concern mixed with his husky, raspy voice.

"I..I.." you murmur. You stare at the floor. How horrible you felt, how horrible you looked. That cancer had eaten you alive and now, you had to start regenerating a body again. You start to tear up, walking to the bed, you start undressing.

"I can't go out there." You say, fiercely. Looking through walls of tears. Harry's hands leave the door and grab your face, uplifting it so he can see your beautiful eyes shimmer.. as he always did when you felt lower than the lowest low. He closed in, leaving just enough space for a small gust of wind to blow through. His green eyes looked all over your face. He then set them on your eyes.

"I hate that you do this to yourself," he said, grabbing your face ever so lightly but with so much power. "Why can't you see how beautiful you are? You are blessed! You are alive and still kicking."

You look away. You hated when Harry got really sentimental on you. It made you feel so special and you weren't you used to it. You found your hands shaking, uncomfortable.

But Harry wouldn't let you look away this time... Not this time.

"Stop looking away... And see the love I have for you! My passion! My acceptance among all who try to tear you down. I am the one who stays. Dont look away from me. From us."

A tear rushes down your face, meeting the floor ready to catch it.

"Why am I crying?" you say silently.

"Because you know I'm true. I'm real." Harry says stroking the excess liquid off your face.

You want so badly to believe you mean more, but your head won't let your heart speak. You let Harry's hands go and look back at the mirror next to you.

"But Harry, look at me! Look at me!!! I am scrony," You say lifting your arms, showing the bone that is all the visible. "This is not even my real hair," You say pulling your wig off and dumping it on the floor. "I don't have a shape anymore. My skin has become the color of fog and my lips, the color of a dying rose. I am not the (Y/N) you used to know. I am... this. Or what is left."

You could feels Harry's frustration emanating from his eyes. You didn't even have to directly look, his rapid speed of breath was enough. The next thing you knew he was unfastening your dress.

"Harry what are you doing?" You scream! He just pushes your hands on the vanity, making you bend over a bit as he continued his job. You had an intention to stop him but what was the use? The last buckle was unfasten and Harry ripped the dress of your body, it falling to your ankles. All that was left were you bra and knickers. You cover yourself. Mostly, because now you're freezing, but to hide the shame of a pale, distasteful figure.

Harry pulls your hands down, yelling,

"When I said I loved you, I meant all of you. Dont you get it? I don't care about your pale skin, or the fact that you dont have anymore hair. All I want is you, and that's all you can give me. Why base our relationship off items that can only tell what you look like, not who you are.

(Y/N) I love you. I LOVE YOU. And if my mouth should ever speak differently, i should be killed, because my heart has begun to stop."

You turn to him and see those beautiful green orbs staring right into you. You suddenly get an overwhelming feeling of peace. You start smiling and before you can say anything, your lips are met with the soft touch of Harry's as he messages them. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You make your way to the bed and he lays down, still in sync with a kiss that he won't let go off. You rub your hands through his hair has he cracks off your bra.

You obviously didn't make it to that party.