off the record — seven (Patreon)

Author's note: Hello! Welcome to all the new members! Let me know if there is anything I can do for you! happy reading!

wc: 5.6k

The morning sunlight in Paris poured through the massive windows of the suite in, golden beams.

Y/N buried her face deeper into the heavy silk pillows, trying to completely block out the light. She was absolutely not a morning person, and the sheer exhaustion of her pregnancy combined with the late night they just had made her limbs feel like lead.

She reached out blindly across the mattress, expecting to find the heavy, warm weight of Harry next to her.

Her hand met empty sheets.

Y/N cracked one eye open with a sleepy frown, squinting against the bright room.

Harry was not asleep. He was standing by the massive window, looking out over the Parisian skyline, and he was already completely energized. He was wearing black running shorts, a thin grey hoodie pushed up to his elbows, and a blue baseball cap pulled low over his curls. He had clearly already been out for a jog along the Seine while she was dead to the world.

He tipped his head back, finishing the last sip of a thick green juice from a plastic cup. The moment he heard the rustle of the heavy comforter, his head snapped toward the bed.

"Good morning," he chirped, a massive, brilliant smile taking over his face. He looked entirely too awake.

Y/N let out a muffled groan and pulled the silk duvet entirely over her head. "Turn the sun off."

Harry laughed, the sound bright and clear in the quiet suite. He set his empty cup down on the marble table and walked over, the mattress dipping heavily as he crawled up the length of the bed. He tugged the comforter down just enough to expose her face.

"I cannot turn off the sun, darling," he murmured, his voice infinitely soft and amused. He leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. He smelled like fresh morning air, light sweat, and citrus. "But it is a beautiful day. You should see the view."

"The only view I want is the back of my eyelids," she grumbled. She stubbornly kept her eyes closed, though she instinctively leaned into his touch when his large hand found its way into her messy hair. "How did you already go for a run? Did you even sleep?"

"I am a morning person," he reminded her cheerfully, shifting his weight so he could pull her against his chest. "I like the quiet before the city wakes up. Plus, I have a very busy day. I have five different television interviews, so I needed to get my blood moving."

"You are entirely too chipper for someone who only slept four hours," she sighed, finally opening both eyes to look at him.

He looked impossibly handsome, even flushed from his workout. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, his bright green eyes softening entirely as he looked down at her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice dropping into a much more intimate, private register. His hand slid beneath the comforter, coming to rest warmly over the firm swell of her stomach. "Are you sore?"

"I feel perfect," she admitted, reaching up to rest her hand over his heart, feeling the steady, elevated rhythm from his run. "But I would feel even better if you took off those running shoes, got under these covers, and ignored the rest of the world for another hour."

The reminder of his schedule brought a sudden, heavy dose of reality into the quiet bubble of the bedroom. The concert last night had been incredible, but the safety of the night was over. Now, the grueling promotional machine was starting back up.

Harry glanced at the heavy gold clock sitting on the bedside table and let out a defeated sigh, the energetic rockstar persona slipping away just a bit.

"I want to," he admitted, resting his forehead against hers. "But Jeff gave me exactly one hour to run before I have to get into hair and makeup. He is going to be knocking on that door in exactly four minutes."

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He tasted faintly of green apple and ginger from his juice. He lingered, clearly not wanting to pull away.

"Order whatever you want for breakfast," he instructed softly against her mouth. "Do not let anyone in unless it is Miller. I should be back by three o'clock at the absolute latest. I will rush through the press lines just to get back to you."

"Have a good time," she told him, trying to smile past the sudden dread of being left alone in the hotel room. "Be charming."

"Always," he winked, flashing that devastating dimple one last time.

Two sharp knocks echoed from the double doors of the suite. Harry swore softly, giving her hand one last squeeze before he stood up to head to the connecting dressing room.

Y/N listened to him open the door to let Jeff in, the low murmur of their voices fading as they walked down the hall. She was left entirely alone in the massive, quiet penthouse. The morning bubble had officially popped.

The suit felt entirely too big once the heavy door clicked shut and Jeff took Harry away.

Y/N spent the first hour eating a massive plate of room service croissants and fresh fruit, enjoying the quiet luxury of the room. But once the food was gone and she had showered, the silence quickly turned from peaceful to suffocating.

She paced the length of the marble floors. She looked out the window at the Eiffel Tower. She tried to read a book on the velvet sofa. By noon, the cabin fever was seriously gnawing at her. She felt completely disconnected from the world, a secret ghost locked away in a gilded tower.

Needing an anchor to reality, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and hit the contact for Marnie.

Marnie picked up on the second ring, the loud, familiar sound of a bustling London cafe echoing in the background.

"Well," Marnie announced, her voice dripping with exaggerated poshness through the speaker. "If it isn't her royal highness calling from her Parisian castle. To what do I owe the pleasure? Did they run out of caviar?"

Y/N snorted, falling back onto the plush mattress. "I wish. I am currently staring at a wall and trying not to lose my mind. It is so boring here, Marnie."

"You are in a suite at the Ritz with Harry Styles. If you are bored, you are definitely doing it wrong."

"Harry is working. He left hours ago for press lines and interviews. I am officially under house arrest until three o'clock because I am not allowed to be seen."

Marnie laughed softly, the teasing edge softening into genuine sympathy. "How is the secret cage treating you? Is the baby enjoying the luxury at least?"

"The baby is currently kicking my ribs because she wants more sugar, but I already ate three pastries. And Harry is a complete psycho. He went for a run this morning. A run, Marnie. On four hours of sleep."

"He has incredible stamina," Marnie teased wickedly. "But I am sure you know all about that by now."

"Shut up," Y/N groaned, burying her face in her free hand. She could not stop the hot flush creeping up her neck at the sudden memory of the bathtub and the intense, reverent way he had touched her in the water.

"I knew it!" Marnie crowed victoriously over the phone. "You have that specific tone in your voice. The breathy, 'my rockstar boyfriend just rocked my world' tone. You have to give me the details."

"Absolutely not. You are terrible, and I am hanging up."

"I am your best friend, which means I am legally entitled to live vicariously through your incredibly glamorous sex life. Come on, just a crumb of information."

They spent the next twenty minutes gossiping, laughing, and trading insults. It felt incredibly grounding to hear Marnie teasing her. It anchored Y/N back to the earth, reminding her of the normal, simple life she had left back in London just a few days ago, before NDAs and tinted vans became her daily reality.

"Hold on," Marnie interrupted suddenly, the sound of a keyboard clacking loudly in the background. "I just checked the big fan update accounts on Twitter. He is supposed to be doing a live interview on some French daytime show right now. Are you watching?"

"No, I do not even know what channel it would be on." Y/N sat up quickly, grabbing the heavy silver television remote from the bedside table.

"Find it! You have to watch him. Send me pictures of his outfit. I have to get back to work anyway, my lunch break is over."

"Okay, okay. I will text you later. I love you."

"Love you more! Tell Harry I said hi, or just jump his bones again. Bye!"

The line went dead. Y/N smiled, tossing her phone onto the pillows. She turned her attention to the massive flat screen television mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

It took her a few minutes of navigating menus in completely confusing French, but she finally found the correct broadcast channel.

The screen flickered to life.

There was a brightly lit studio with a live audience cheering loudly. The camera panned across the stage, and there he was.

Harry looked incredibly handsome, perfectly put together but entirely casual. He had changed out of his sweaty workout clothes and was now wearing a soft, oversized knit sweater tucked loosely into a pair of tailored, wide leg trousers. She could just see the familiar stripes of his Adidas Gazelles as he crossed one long leg over the other. His hair was perfectly styled, the messy curls pushed back from his forehead, and he was flashing that devastating, billion dollar smile to the glamorous female host sitting across from him.

Seeing him on the screen was incredibly jarring. Just a few hours ago, he was sitting on the edge of her bed, drinking a green juice and kissing her shoulder. Now, he belonged to the cameras.

On the screen, the glamorous French host leaned forward in her pristine white armchair, resting her chin on her hand as she beamed at Harry. She spoke in perfectly fluent, heavily accented English, which meant Y/N did not even need the French subtitles running along the bottom of the screen to understand exactly what was happening.

"Harry, the Accor Arena was completely sold out last night," the host purred, the live studio audience cheering loudly at the mention of the concert. "Congratulations! How does it feel to be back on the road?"

"It feels incredible," Harry answered smoothly. His voice was a rich, warm baritone through the television speakers. He crossed one long leg over the other, completely relaxed in the spotlight. "The fans bring an energy that is entirely unmatched. I am just very grateful to be able to play these songs in a room with them again."

Y/N smiled, pulling her knees up to her chest on the bed. He was so good at this. He was charming, humble, and completely mesmerizing.

"We love having you here," the host continued, her smile turning just a fraction more conspiratorial. "But of course, your fans are not just interested in the music. They want to know about the man behind the songs."

Y/N felt a sudden, sharp drop in her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going.

"You are notoriously private," the host pushed, the large screen behind them suddenly changing graphics. "But a few days ago, the British press caught some very interesting photos of you in Hampstead."

"So," the host asked, practically vibrating with excitement. "I have to ask you are off the market? And who is the mystery woman, Harry?"

Y/N held her breath in the quiet hotel room. Her nails dug into the silk comforter. Logically, she knew exactly what he was going to say. Jeff had spent an entire hour in her living room explaining the absolute necessity of the NDAs and the denial strategy.

But hearing it was entirely different.

Harry let out a light, breathy laugh, shifting his weight in the armchair and rubbing his hands together. He looked directly at the host, his face a mask of polite amusement, though Y/N could see the microscopic tension in his jaw.

"Um, yeah, no," Harry started, his voice soft and slightly hesitant, exactly the way he always sounded when he was dodging the press. "I think people tend to run with things a bit, you know? She is... um, she is just a friend. We have a massive crew, lots of friends of the touring family coming in and out of the venues. I was just helping her to the car."

The host pouted dramatically. "Just a friend? I am sure they will be very relieved to hear you are still single."

Harry smiled, a small, charming smirk that did not quite reach his green eyes. "Yeah, I mean, the focus right now is just the shows. We are travelling so much, the schedule is a bit chaotic. I think it would be entirely unfair to drag anyone into this circus full time. I am just really happy doing what I am doing right now."

The studio audience erupted into massive, adoring applause. The host clapped her hands together, thoroughly satisfied with the answer, and smoothly transitioned into a question about his floral suit.

Her silence was deafening.

Y/N hit the power button on the remote. The television screen snapped to black, cutting off the sound of the cheering fans and his smooth, casual voice.

She sat perfectly still on the massive bed.

She is just a friend. Unfair to drag anyone into this circus.

She knew it was a lie. She knew he had to downplay it to kill the rumor. She knew the man who had just spoken those words to millions of people was the exact same man who had spent nearly an hour last night worshipping her body in a bathtub, telling her she was the center of his universe.

But her pregnant, hormonal brain did not care about logic.

The casual, easy way he had dismissed her echoed in her head, twisting and magnifying all the deep, dark insecurities she had been fighting for months. She looked down at her changing body, the soft swell of her stomach hidden beneath one of his oversized t shirts. She was carrying his child. She had uprooted her entire life, and started hiding herself in hotel rooms just to be near him.

And yet, to the rest of the world, she was just another nameless face in the crew. A friend he was too busy for.

A hot, thick tear spilled over her eyelashes, tracing a fast path down her cheek. Y/N choked back a sob, aggressively wiping the wetness away with the back of her hand, but it was entirely useless. The dam was broken.

The hormones took complete control. All the exhaustion of the travel, the physical ache of the pregnancy, and the profound isolation of being locked in crashed over her at once. She curled onto her side, pulling her knees tightly to her chest, and buried her face into the pillow that still smelled faintly of his mint body wash.

She cried because she felt huge. She cried because she felt hidden. And most of all, she cried because she felt incredibly, stupidly foolish for letting his perfect, polite lies break her heart.

The heavy click of the lock turning echoed loudly in the quiet room.

Y/N scrambled up from the mattress, frantically wiping the wetness from her cheeks with the heels of her hands. She smoothed down the oversized t shirt she was wearing and took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to pull herself together before the bedroom door opened.

"God, I thought they were going to keep me there all day," Harry called out, his voice tired but entirely relieved as he walked through the suite. She heard the dull thud of his shoes hitting the floor and the rustle of his jacket being tossed onto a chair.

He appeared in the bedroom doorway a second later. He was still wearing the oversized knit sweater and the wide leg trousers from the interview, though the polished energy he had on screen was completely gone. He looked entirely exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes much more prominent now that the bright television lights were off him, but his face lit up into a soft, genuine smile the exact second he saw her.

He crossed the room in three long strides, climbing onto the edge of the bed and reaching for her instantly. "Come here. Missed you."

Y/N let him pull her into his lap, but she kept her body completely rigid. She did not melt against his chest the way she usually did. She turned her head slightly when he leaned in, letting his lips brush against her temple instead of her mouth.

Harry paused. The casual exhaustion vanished. He pulled back just enough to look at her face.

His green eyes swept over her features, instantly noticing the redness around her eyes and the blotchy flush on her cheeks. His hands tightened securely around her waist, his brow furrowing.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hesitant register. "What is it? Are you alright? Is the baby okay?"

"We are fine," she answered quickly, her voice sounding entirely too tight and defensive. "Everything is perfectly fine."

Harry did not believe her for a single second. He reached up, gently cupping her jaw with one large hand, his thumb brushing over the lingering dampness beneath her eye.

"You have been crying," he stated softly, genuinely worried now. "Y/N, what happened? Did someone try to come up here?"

"No, nobody came up here," she snapped, pulling her face away from his touch. The pregnancy hormones were still raging, fueling a sudden, irrational anger that she could not quite control. "Nobody even knows I exist, remember? I am just a very close friend of the crew. Just another nameless face you help into cars."

Harry froze. The confusion on his face cleared instantly, replaced by a heavy, profound realization. He let out a slow breath, dropping his chin toward his chest for a second.

"Ah," he breathed out softly. "Right. You watched the broadcast."

"I had a lot of free time," she countered bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Since I am completely confined to this room while you are out there telling millions of people that you have absolutely no room in your life for me."

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. The guilt washing over his features was devastating. He did not get defensive. He did not pull away. Instead, he shifted his weight on the mattress and pulled her flush against his chest, wrapping both of his long arms securely around her back, completely ignoring her resistance.

"Let go of me," she muttered, pushing weakly against his sweater.

"No, come here. Please," he coaxed softly, burying his face into the curve of her neck. "I am sorry. I am so incredibly sorry you had to hear that. It is... it is just absolute rubbish, you know that, right?"

"It is stupid," she choked out, the defensive anger melting right back into thick, heavy tears. She buried her face against his shoulder, her fingers twisting into the fabric of his sweater. "I know it is PR. I know Jeff told you to say it. But I am just sitting here feeling huge and entirely alone, and watching you smile and say I do not matter... it just broke my heart."

"Yeah. No, I get it. I do," Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to force her to look at him. "But look at me. Please."

Y/N sniffled, meeting his intense, blazing green eyes.

"That out there?" he continued, his voice entirely steady now. "It is just a circus. It is just words to make them stop digging. It has absolutely nothing to do with us."

He moved his hand, sliding it under the hem of the oversized t shirt she was wearing, pressing his warm, bare palm directly against the firm skin of her pregnant stomach.

"This is the only real thing," he promised, his thumb sweeping back and forth over her bump. "You and her. I am rushing through these stupid press lines just to get back to this room. I swear to you."

Y/N let out a soft sob, her hands dropping from her chest to rest over his large hand on her stomach.

"I hate hiding," she admitted, her voice incredibly small.

"I know. It is shit. It really is," he agreed, leaning his forehead against hers. "And I hate it too. But it is just for a bit longer. Just to keep you both safe. Okay? But in here... there is no hiding. You are my entire world. Please tell me you know that."

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, achingly tender kiss that tasted faintly of the mint he chewed before interviews and the salty tang of her tears. He poured every ounce of his devotion into the contact, proving exactly what he could never say to the press.

Harry pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. He let out a long, heavy exhale, the remaining tension leaving his broad shoulders. He shifted his weight, pulling her down so they were both resting comfortably against the massive pile of silk pillows. He kept one arm securely wrapped around her waist, completely unwilling to let her go.

"So," he murmured, his thumb lazily tracing circles over her hip. "Tell me about your day. What did you actually get up to while I was out there being a complete idiot?"

Y/N let out a soft, breathy laugh, the lingering sadness finally giving way to genuine amusement. "Well, I ordered room service and ate three separate croissants in bed. Then I paced around the room for an hour trying not to lose my mind."

"Very productive," Harry teased, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Did you do anything else, or was the entire itinerary just pastries and pacing?"

"I called Marnie," she admitted, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him. "She was thoroughly entertained by the fact that you went for a run on four hours of sleep. She made several highly inappropriate jokes about your stamina."

Harry let out a loud, bright laugh that vibrated beautifully right beneath her cheek. A deeply smug, arrogant smirk settled on his lips, and he arched one eyebrow at her. "She is not wrong, though, is she? Tell Marnie I say thank you."

"I am absolutely not inflating your ego any more than it already is," Y/N scolded playfully, swatting his shoulder. "I actually spent about two hours looking at baby clothes online. Since I could not actually go out shopping in Paris without causing a scene."

The teasing arrogance instantly melted off his face, replaced by that overwhelming, devoted softness. His green eyes lit up, crinkling at the corners. "Yeah? What did you find?"

"Too much," she confessed, a shy smile taking over. "I bought these tiny little knit sweaters. One is yellow with daisies on it. And I bought her these ridiculous, tiny little socks that look like strawberries. They were completely unnecessary, but I could not stop myself."

Harry melted entirely. He let out a soft groan, burying his face into her messy hair to hide his massive smile. "God, that is so cute. I am going to completely lose my mind."

"You are going to be terrible," she agreed, running her fingers gently through the curls at the nape of his neck. "You are not going to be able to say no to her, are you?”

"Not even a question," he mumbled against her neck, perfectly content with that reality. He pulled back just a bit, letting out a sudden, heavy yawn. The dark circles under his eyes were very apparent now that the adrenaline of their argument had faded.

"We have about an hour and a half before Jeff comes back to drag me to soundcheck," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and sleepy. "Do you want to just put a romcom on? I desperately need a bit of a nap if I am going to make it through the show tonight."

"That sounds perfect," she whispered.

Harry reached blindly for the television remote on the nightstand. He navigated the menus with a practiced ease, finally settling on a familiar, comforting romantic comedy and keeping the volume incredibly low. The soft murmur of the dialogue filled the massive space of the penthouse.

"Come," he coaxed, pulling her back completely flush against his chest so they were perfectly slotted together. He draped his arm over her side, his large hand finding its natural, permanent home resting firmly over the swell of her stomach.

Y/N let out a long, contented sigh, letting all of her weight sink into the mattress and into him. It was the absolute safest she had felt all day. The harsh reality of the television interview, the cameras, and the outside world felt a million miles away from this bed.

Every few minutes, he would press a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of her head or the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"You are okay," he whispered into her hair, his voice barely audible over the low volume of the television. "We are okay. I promise."

"I know," she mumbled sleepily, her hands coming up to rest over his large fingers on her stomach.

Anchored by his incredible warmth and the solid, protective weight of his body wrapped entirely around hers, Y/N did not even make it ten minutes into the movie. Her breathing slowed, her muscles completely relaxed, and her heavy eyes finally fluttered shut. Harry stayed awake just long enough to feel her drift off, before the sheer exhaustion of the tour finally pulled him right under with her.

When Jeff finally knocked politely on the double doors an hour later, the transition from the hotel to the venue was a well-oiled, highly classified machine. Miller escorted them down a private service elevator and directly into the back of a tinted black van.

Y/N knew the protocol. Jeff had been explicitly clear. She was to remain a total ghost. She was supposed to walk in through the loading dock with a hoodie pulled over her head and sit in the very back of the dark, empty arena.

She was fully prepared to put her head down and follow the rules. But the second they stepped out of the van into the cavernous, echoing backstage area of the Accor Arena, Harry did not let go of her hand.

Instead of ushering her into the shadows, his large hand completely enveloped hers, and he pulled her directly out into the bright, harsh working lights of the arena floor.

"Harry," Jeff hissed immediately, jogging to catch up with them. His face was entirely panicked. "Mate, what are you doing? She needs to go straight to the green room. Everyone is out here."

Harry did not even break his stride. He kept Y/N tucked securely against his side, gently swinging their joined hands. "Um, yeah, no," he said casually, flashing Jeff a completely unapologetic smile. "Not today, Jeff."

"Harry, we literally just spent the morning killing this story on television, you cannot—"

"I said no," Harry interrupted, dropping the cheeky smile and leveling his manager with a firm look. "She has been cooped up in that hotel room. She is pregnant, she is absolutely knackered, and if I make her hide in the shadows like a spare mop for one more afternoon, she is going to completely lose it. We are done hiding her from our own band."

Jeff let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples before stepping back in defeat.

Harry instantly softened the moment he turned back to Y/N. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and led her right to the barricade at the front of the massive stage. He was practically bouncing on his heels with excitement.

"Oi! You lot!" Harry called out, his voice echoing loudly in the massive space as he waved his free hand at the stage. "Come 'ere a second!"

Mitch set his guitar down instantly, and Sarah hopped off her stool, both of them walking down the stage stairs to meet them on the floor.

Harry's chest puffed out with an undeniable, overwhelming pride. He pulled Y/N right against his side, wrapping a long arm around her shoulders and dropping a loud, entirely unnecessary kiss to her temple.

"I know Jeff gave everyone a massive, dramatic speech about, um, pretending she doesn't exist," Harry started, a light, breathy laugh escaping him. "But we are not doing it. Guys, this is Y/N."

Y/N felt a massive flush hit her cheeks, but the suffocating weight she had been carrying all morning instantly lifted.

"It is so incredibly nice to finally meet you," Mitch smiled warmly, completely ignoring Jeff's protocol as he stepped forward and pulled her into a gentle hug. "He literally does not shut up about you. We were honestly starting to think he had gone mad and made you up."

"rude," Harry gasped playfully, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic, fluffy pout.

"Ignore him," Sarah laughed, completely bypassing Harry to wrap her arms carefully around Y/N. "You are absolutely glowing. Truly. Look at this bump! Are you comfortable, love? Do you need a proper chair?”

"I am perfect, thank you," Y/N smiled.

Harry stood back, his hands tucked into the pockets of his wide-leg trousers, a deeply smug, goofy smile plastered across his face. These were the people who actually mattered, and they treated Y/N with an overwhelming amount of normalcy and love.

Soundcheck was incredibly intimate and entirely chaotic. Y/N sat in the front row of the empty arena, chatting with the crew between songs. Harry was completely in his element on stage. Instead of just doing a normal vocal warm-up, he was being wonderfully silly—doing ridiculous little dances, dramatically shaking his hips, and singing absolute nonsense words into the microphone just to make her giggle.

When the actual show started a few hours later, Y/N watched from the secure VIP box. The arena was packed with screaming fans, but she felt completely invincible.

The high of the concert carried them all the way back to the Ritz. Harry bounded through the double doors of the room with that specific, chaotic post-show energy. He was still wearing his sequined concert trousers, but he had swapped his top for a massive, fluffy hotel bathrobe. His damp curls were pushed back out of his face with a completely ridiculous pink claw clip he had stolen from her makeup bag.

"I am absolutely knackered," he announced dramatically, flopping face-first onto the massive bed right next to her with a loud groan. "My legs are going to fall off. I might actually die if someone does not feed me chips in the next five minutes."

"Room service is on the way," Y/N laughed, reaching over to rub his back.

He rolled onto his back, reaching out to pull her right against his side. A massive, goofy smile completely took over his face, his dimples popping on both cheeks. "You are an absolute angel. What would I do without you?"

"Starve, probably."

"Without a doubt," he agreed easily. He shifted closer, pressing a series of noisy, obnoxious kisses all over her cheek and jaw until she was giggling and trying to push his face away. "Stop fighting my affection. I am a very needy man and I require cuddles."

When they finally went to sleep, the world felt entirely perfect and safe.

Until the next morning.

The sun had barely risen when a frantic, aggressive pounding echoed from the double doors.

Harry let out a rough, sleepy groan, his heavy arm pulling Y/N closer to his chest. "Ignore them," he mumbled into her hair, his voice entirely gravelly.

The heavy electronic lock clicked open. Jeff had used his emergency keycard.

"Harry!" Jeff shouted from the living room, sounding entirely panicked. "Harry, get out here right now."

Harry sat up instantly, the sleepy, fluffy haze vanishing completely. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and jogged out into the living room.

Y/N sat up slowly, clutching the silk sheets. She could hear the frantic murmur of Jeff speaking rapidly, followed by a sharp, devastated curse from Harry.

A moment later, Harry walked back into the bedroom. All the color had drained from his face. His hands were shaking slightly as he held Jeff's tablet.

"Harry," Y/N breathed. "What happened?"

"I am so sorry, darling," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Someone sold us out."

Y/N looked down at the bright screen. It was the homepage of a British tabloid. The massive headline took up the entire screen, accompanied by the paparazzi photo from London.

EXCLUSIVE: HARRY’S SECRET BABY! British Vogue Photographer Y/N L/N Five Months Pregnant With Pop Star's Child.

The article had her full name. It detailed exactly how many months along she was, specifically reminded the public that she was the very same photographer who shot his iconic Vogue cover, and quoted a "close source" who claimed to have exclusive knowledge of their relationship.

The safe, silly bubble they had built was completely shattered. The secret was out.