Moira found herself standing in the middle of the hallway. Just when she wondered what the hell she was doing there, a loud knock resounded on the front door. Glancing at the clock on the way, the time read ’04:26am’. Her mind whirled, who would knock at her door at such time? And why was she even awake?

Carefully moving towards it, she reached the door and pulled it open. Her face paled and her breathing picked up almost instantly at the sight of the one who had betrayed her trust, and bullied her in the worst way possible.

“Cooper?” Fear instilled its way into her heart as his powerful gaze stared her down.

“Hi Moira.”

Taking a step back, she tightly clutched her fumbling hands to her chest, in a nervous gesture. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Cooper since high school graduation, seeing him now was so.. so surreal. He looked exactly the same, just a little older.

The air suddenly ran colder as images of all the things he’d done to her were flashing in her mind, causing her to shiver from head to toe. His eyes didn’t look kind, like they’d done when the two of them were young and still the best of friends. They watched her closely, as if inspecting a piece of meat. It terrified her, since she already knew that look. It meant trouble.

This had to be some kind of nightmare. Some kind of realistic, horrifying dream.

She tried to slow her racing heart, trying to remain calm, to regain her composure so she could perhaps think clearly. But she couldn't. Bad memories came rushing back to her, and at this point, she could hardly look at him without dreading the reason he was here.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see Oliver.” He announced, making her blood run cold.

“Why?”

Cooper chuckled humourlessly at the question, as if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, clearly annoyed. “You know exactly why I want to see him.”

Where it concerned her son, no amount of fear could make her cower; her mother instinct was much stronger. “No, I don’t!” She snapped, feeling like a whole new person who could actually stand up for herself. “Don’t you think you’ve hurt me enough already? My whole high school experience was hell because of you! I want you to leave. Right now.”

“Stupid girl,” he stated coldly, roughly pushing passed her and slamming the door shut behind him. There was nothing Moira could do to stop him as he made his way through the apartment and up the stairs as if he’d done it a million times before. As he neared Ollie’s nursery, pure panic consumed her entire body.

Her mind seemed to awaken, “What are you doing? Get out of my fúcking house!”

“I’m taking what is mine.” The evil glint in his eyes made the fear return for a millisecond, but then she remember this was her home, she was the boss.

“I said. Leave. Now. Or I’m calling the cops!”

When he neared Ollie’s door and stopped in front of it, she panicked even further. “No, stay away from him!” Moira was quick to rush after him, but as soon as she actually got close to him, he reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, her scalp burning from his tight hold, and he began forcing her further down the hall, away from Ollie. Treating her like a dog, he threw her back on the floor. She could vaguely hear his footsteps enter the nursery. Moira let herself cry with the pain still on her scalp but she couldn’t stay in her spot, she had to protect Oliver.

She couldn’t let him get to her baby, there was no telling in what he would do.

“Cooper,” she muttered, pushing away the pain and crawling into the room. “Cooper please, hurt me all you want but don’t touch my son. Please.”

“I’m sure my son will be happy to see his father.” Cooper replied in an eerily quiet voice, one that even sent shivers down Moira’s spine.

Cooper? Oliver’s father? Absolutely impossible. She refused to believe the words he had uttered. There was no way.

All of a sudden, something out of this world touched her body and made her freeze in place. The invisible force was suffocating her, nailing her to the floor. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe. Her heart literally broke when she watched her son being carried out of his crib by the horrid man. And there was nothing she could do.

In the hands of the unfamiliar man, Ollie started to wail. His face twisted, and his mouth opened to let out a disagreeing scream. His little legs kicked against the hold, his arms flailing. Moira watched them hopelessly, silent tears streaming down her face.

“I’m leaving, and I’m taking my son with me.” He whirled around with Ollie still in his hold and backhanded her sharply across the face. Which caused her baby to cry even louder.

Stunned by the sudden yet familiar blow, Moira fell back and wanted to clutched onto her face. But she couldn’t. The invisible force was still holding her. She couldn’t even cry. She was momentarily blinded by the overwhelming pain.

She wanted to scream, shout, do everything within her power to keep the brute from taking the person that was most important to her. But Cooper slowly disappeared from view, and Ollie’s loud cries were still echoing through the apartment, eventually fading into silence. And while she sat there, unable to do anything. It felt like she’d died a thousand deaths.

Jerking awake, Moira sat upright, panting for breath, terror running through her veins. She chocked on the sobs begging to be released. Immediately, there was warmth at her back and she was embraced by two strong arms.

“It’s okay,” someone whispered. “It was just a nightmare.”

Her jaw dropped as she looked at the owner of the voice, shocked to find Harry in her bedroom.

Was she still dreaming?

Unable to believe that he was real, her hands began patting his chest and arms, searching for proof of his presence. She cupped his cheeks in her hands as tears began to stream from her eyes.

“You’re here,” she whispered brokenly, and Harry’s piercing, emerald eyes swirled with emotion.

“I’ll always be here,” he promised.

She tucked her head into his chest, and he ran his hands down her spine. The only sound in the room was her ragged breathing as she fought to control her reaction to the nightmare. She knew the nightmare held no truth. It was impossible. But that didn’t mean the thought of Ollie being taken away from her didn’t scare her to death.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and before she could say a word, his delicious lips met hers. She didn’t even bother fight him. In that moment, she didn’t care she was supposed to be angry at him for leaving. She still felt in shock from her nightmare and right then, all she need was Harry, just Harry.

She poured every ounce of pain and heartache into the kiss, she savoured the groan that escaped him as she lightly bit his bottom lip, savoured the taste of him. The tears were still dripping down her cheeks as he moved in perfect sync with her and her body felt as if it were going to explode from the contact. She wanted to ravage his lips, and never stop them from parting with hers. She needed him, she needed him more than she would ever admit.

He distanced himself from her a few seconds later, taking a deep breath as he laid his forehead against hers, “I missed you.”

She thought she had imagined the last comment, and continued to cry. Her sobs gradually becoming whimpers. Her breaths were inconsistent, her chest heaving as she hiccupped and gasped for air. Eventually, she contained her emotions enough to realize that Harry was nuzzling her neck, whispering something that sounded like a prayer into her skin. While she couldn’t make out even a word, the sensation of his warm breath against the sensitive juncture between her neck and shoulder sent tingles throughout her entire body.

When she finally lifted her head, Harry’s warm eyes met hers. His expression soft as he caressed her cheek, wiping away the torrential downpour of tears from her eyes. He gazed at her with start worry, before gently kissing her mouth. Even the short exchange caused sparks to assault her lips, feeling his touch to the very core.

Without further explanations, she shoved the covers aside and jumped out of bed, stumbling towards Ollie’s nursery. Harry came rushing after her, questioningly repeating her name over and over again, evidently curious as to what the hell she was doing. But she ignored him, all she could focus on was her son. Was he safe? Was he still in his crib? Was he even here.

She wasted no time in entering the room, but stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her angel, sound asleep. She felt instant relief filling her as she crouched beside the crib, and let the tears once more stream down her face. Though this time, they were tears of happiness.

Harry had quietly crouched down beside her. His hands encircled her waist, as he pulled her in for a hug. Since the first time he'd done this, she’d adored him holding her. His hugs were comforting, and warm, it was a lot like being snuggled up in a blanket.

She stared at the tiny face of her sleeping baby, while Harry did the same.

“He is an exact replica of you when you were his age, makes me wonder who his daddy is?” Lizzy’s words resounded in Harraël’s head, glueing his intent stare on Ollie. But it was too dark to see properly, so he made a mental note for later. Moira was his main focus now. He wondered what her nightmare was about?

“I dreamed someone had taken him from me,” She sniffed, answering his unspoken questions and soaking his shirt with tears. “I-I h-had to make sure it was just a dream.”

She nuzzled her face into his chest, her arms now draped over his shoulders, fingers skimming the skin beneath his hairline, at the nape of his neck. Softly kissing her temple, he whispered into her ear, “I will never let anyone take him from you. I promise.”

As he brushed a stray hair behind her ear, she sighed in content. Staring up at him, she saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before, it made the goose bumps arise all over her skin. It was intense, honest, and most of all; vulnerable.

“Let’s talk.”

Nodding in agreement, he pulled her up, leading her down stairs.

Moira sat down on the couch and shivered, she wrapped the cashmere quilt –that was previously spread over the recliner– around her and sank into the couch’s cushions. Knowing his way around her appartment like a kid in a candy shop, Harraël re-appeared a few minutes later with two glasses and a bottle in hand that he’d gotten from the kitchen.

“I figured you could use something a little stronger than your usual tea.” He explained as he poured her a full tall-glass of whiskey.

She accepted the drink carefully, weighing her options. If she drank just a little—as little as possible, barely a quarter of the glass, she would barely get a buzz. She’d feel a little better, and she’d be able to think as clearly as any day. She shrugged a little before taking a small sip. Moira hated how the liquid burned down her throat, and how it made her wince from the horrid taste.

But she loved how it warmed her stomach. As soon as it hit her belly, she felt herself smiling. It was warm. She took another sip, cringing again from the taste, and the warmth increased.

“You want to talk about your nightmare?” Harry asked.

She shook her head, continuously taking small sips of her glass. “Not really.” And then finally, she took a huge mouthful. Her throat burned from the amount, but everything felt so warm. When she finished her glass, she decided on drinking from the bottle. Her head felt so light. It seemed like everything was moving around her.

It was no surprise she was such a lightweight, having not had a drop of alcohol since before she got pregnant. Harraël would have stopped her from drinking the second she finished her glass if it wasn’t for the fact she clearly needed to get her mind off things. This once, he'd let it slide.

“You want to talk about why you’re back a month early?” She asked him in return, in a surprisingly clear voice.

“Not really.”

“Alright then,” she uttered chirpily. “Can you at least tell me why you decided to sneak into my house at-“ she slowly glanced at the wall clock “- 05:38am in the morning?”

She was absolutely wasted when she finally set the bottle down. Whenever she turned her head, it felt so amazing. She had a huge smile on her face and was so lost in her own world that she hadn’t even heard Harry's answer to her questions. With a giggle, she climbed on top of his lap.

"Missed you too, Harry." She slurred.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each of them merely basking in the other’s presence until he finally broke the silence, “You’re cute.” Placing a small kiss on her nose, the alcohol was getting to Harry's head as well, giving him a slight buzz.

“I’m sure I am, baby.” She breathed into his ear, her voice taking a seductive tone.

He sat somewhat straighter, his arms winding fully around her, hoisting her further onto his lap, right on the sudden bulge in his pants, and it felt like he dug her hips down, silently stressing his need. His eyes watched her closely, and he leaned back so he was leaning into the couch’s back.

“God, I want to fuck you.”

Even drunk, she was shocked by the words that escaped his lips, never had he been so… straightforward.

However, she found the crude word coming from his mouth strangely a turn on. The husky way he spoke, the way his eyes glinted when he told her what he wanted—she couldn’t help it, her cheeks blazed and her inner fire instantly ignited at just the sound of his voice.

Perhaps having alcohol in her system was the main reason for such a thirsty reaction?

Harry’s lips curled into a low smirk when he saw her obvious reaction, and he rocked her hips a little, leaning over to whisper, “I really would love to play out every fantasy I’ve had of us together.” His breath was hot, and she felt him rock her hips up against him, the fabrics between them the only thing separating.

“Tell me, would you like my cóck inside of you?”

She could feel her breathing pick up, her entire body responding to Harry’s words. And his grasp on her ass, pushing her against him in a slow rhythm, began to drive her crazy on the inside. With his bulge pressed up against her, she could already feel her southern folds begin to throb with need at the abrupt friction.

It had been way too long since her last intercourse. Hell, she couldn’t even remember.

Her lips were on his neck now, licking and sucking eagerly. “Bed.” She whispered jaggedly, playfully pushing him away from her.

Jumping up, she began running into the direction of the stairs. Though not without stumbling a few times, making bubbly giggles escape her mouth. Harry eagerly followed behind. Something had awakened inside of him at the sight of Moira grinding down on his hard member, it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. And god damn it, he couldn’t wait to be inside of her and finally claim her like some sort of alpha wolf.

He entered her bedroom, expecting to find her waiting for him. Instead, she laid on top of the covers with the quilt still wrapped around her; softly snoring.

He felt slightly disappointed he wouldn’t get a release, but then again; it was his own fault for giving her alcohol while knowing she hadn’t had any in a long time. Therefore, he would deal with the consequences like a gentleman: softly kissing her lips, silently wishing her good night and continuing to make his way to bathroom for a cold shower.

It was good to be back. But hopefully, he would find some answers to his questions soon.