As usual, Harry woke up early. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, which immediately settled on your form curled next to him in bed. A soft smile touched his lips, and he gently tugged the bedsheets higher over your shoulder. Swinging his legs over the edge, he made his way into the bathroom. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, you were already awake.

"Good morning," he said softly, walking straight to his walk-in closet. He didn't seem to notice your gaze trailing over his bare back as he chose a suit for work.

"Feel free to shower. I can have someone bring you clothes, or," he winked over his shoulder, "you can wear mine."

Still wearing his oversized shirt from the night before, you moved to stand just outside the closet door. You watched him for another moment, your mind taking in the domesticity of the scene, before you finally nodded. He stepped out, his fingers gently cradling your chin as he gave you a quick, soft peck on the lips.

"I have to go to work," he continued, starting to dress. He was efficient, pulling on his trousers and tucking in his shirt in one smooth motion. "But you can stay as long as you want. If you're free tonight, we can have dinner together."

You settled back onto the bed, just watching and listening to the simple sounds of him preparing for his day. Your thoughts were still reeling from the day before, the way he spoke to you, the delicate strength in his touch, and the comforting weight of his arms holding you all night.

"My cook should have breakfast ready," Harry said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. "If you want something special, just ask her."

He finally caught the distant, reflective look in your eyes. He turned instantly, crossing the short distance to the bed. He knelt before you, his gaze earnest.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands finding and enclosing yours over your lap.