Oh yeah! Over seven hundred followers! Thank you for all of those who provided amazing feedback and the kind words!
Oh and two things, one: there is a poll on my profile asking about who you guys ship in this story – just for fun. Two: I was thinking of writing a separate story with all the previous chapters not written in Harry's prospective form his and perhaps add some others because it would be too messy to add in here. What do you guys think?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Suicide Squad or Harry Potter.
Clothes
When Harley presents Harry with bags of clothes she had ordered, he gazes at them with something akin to shock. He stands there for several minutes - pretty eyes wide as he gazes at the bags but makes no move to touch them.
Harley raises an eyebrow. "What're you waiting for, sugar? Check them out!"
That seems to jolt Harry from it, his hands reaching in the first bag to pull out a nice dark green button down shirt - the exact colour of his eyes. The boy marvels at it, touching the fabric gently before looking up at Harley: "This is for me?"
"Of course it's for you, sugar." Harley tells him, a slight frown tugging down her lips at the way the boy's voice sounded - not at all like the sarcastic cool detachment or even the rare kind words she was used to. It sounded almost – vulnerable.
Dismissing the thought, Harley allows her lips to stretch into a wide smile: "The clothes you had didn't even fit you right! Plus, you can't keep using Frost's men's hand-me-downs."
Despite this explanation, the boy's gaze still flickers from Harley to the button down shirt with something very much like disbelief. Finally he focuses on Harley, swallowing for some reason before speaking: "Why though?"
"Why what?" Harley inquires, tilting her head with curiosity.
Harry licks his lips, his grip on the shirt tightening, just slightly. "Why don't you want me using hand-me-downs? I mean -" He trails off, and Harley is stunned by the uncertainty in the young man's voice – how young he suddenly seems. "This looks like it cost a lot of money – and I know you didn't steal it..."
"Money isn't an issue." Harley says airily, waving her hand as though to swipe the idea away. (because while she did not steal the clothes – the money is an entirely different story) "Besides, I don't want our guest in clothes that don't fit."
Harry snorts slightly at the word 'guest' but surprisingly does not make a comment. Instead, his emerald eyes flicker back up to meet hers from under long lashes and he bites his lip; his thumb running over the material of the shirt gently.
For the first time ever, his expression is similar to many men who laid eyes upon her. But of course, one significant thing is different.
There is no lust in the boy's eyes; no hunger. Just something that looks like gratitude over something as insignificant as a cotton button down shirt. And – Harley likes it. She likes this, devil forbid, innocence.
It warms something in Harley's chest; tugs at heartstrings she thought no longer existed.
"Thank you." Harry says sincerely , and the warmth in Harley's chest expands.
She smiles, gesturing for him to go through the bags. "No problem sugar. Take a look and try it on for me - I want to see how you look!"
The boy nods, his eyes brightened - and Harley thinks she sees the slightest tug on the right corner of his mouth as he goes to do what she's asked.
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