While Harry’s hard exterior scares off anyone in sight, there’s one person who broke down his walls and quite frankly is the complete opposite of him. While he’s all black and grumpy, she’s soft and sunshine-y, all bows and giggles and sweet smelling perfume. She doesn’t hang around him while he’s “Mafia Harry,” usually out shopping or baking or whatever because she can’t stand blood or seeing anyone get hurt, even though she understands why he does what he does.

His men think he’s crazy half of the time, the amount of times they’ve walked into him smiling on the phone (when he’s not bossing his men around, barking orders over the phone or beating someone to a pulp) or chuckling to himself at certain points of the day is concerning to them.

He loves pampering her. Sending her gifts she never needs, taking her out to fancy restaurants, trips around the world. She deserves it and more.

But he’s also always nervous about her, he has a lot of enemies and one weakness. One weakness that they could use against him.

He walks home after a particularly stressful day, splatters of blood still on his white shirt. “Darling, you here?” He yells out, the house is gigantic, he wants to make sure he’s heard.