"There's a cafe along here, if we keep walking this way," Harry said, pointing up ahead. "Do you want to stop there? I'll buy you lunch. Or we could go back home and I'll make us something if you're worried about being recognised."

"We seem to have got away with it so far," I shrugged. "We'll go for lunch if you like. But I'm paying."

He shook his head. "We'll argue about that in a minute. Are you sure you want to take the risk? I mean, being seen with you doesn't bother me, but I don't want it to ruin the day for you if someone gets a bit snap-happy."

"It took me by surprise the other day," I admitted. "I'm sorry for moaning about it on the phone. You have to deal with that every day so I have no right to complain about it."

He stopped and turned to me, causing me to stop too.

"Jess, you have every right to complain about it. I signed up for this, you didn't. You were right - the paps will always be there, looking for a story. Unfortunately that's part and parcel of being associated with me. I can't do anything about it, and I have to accept that it's something you find hard to deal with. That's why I'm giving you the option of going home now. I don't want anything to ruin today. I'm having a great time taking the piss out of you, and I'm not ready for that to end just yet."

I was listening to him intently until the last sentence sank in, and then I pulled a face of mock annoyance at him, causing him to lean back and laugh delightedly.

"You are so funny when you're wound up," he announced.

"Shut up and take me for lunch," I said, walking off. "I've changed my mind - you can definitely pay after the way you've bullied me this morning."

I heard him chuckling softly as he jogged a couple of steps to catch up with me, and then fell into step beside me.

We reached the cafe to find it fairly quiet, and ordered our food before sitting down at a table outside, at the end of the row. The waitress brought over our coffees and I poured a couple of sachets of sugar into mine and stirred it, squinting in the midday sunlight.

"So, you never answered my question about next weekend," he reminded me.

I thought for a moment. "It sounds lovely. I don't want to impose though. Shouldn't you check with your mum before you offer her spare room?"

"I'll check, but I know it'll be fine," he said. "So is that a yes?"

"As long as it's fine with your mum, then yes," I smiled.

"OK great," he smiled back. "Gemma will be chuffed. You can do girly stuff, like paint each other's nails and plait each other's hair."

"And she can tell me stories about you, and we can laugh at terrible pictures of you before you were famous," I teased, and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"There'll be none of that."

"There will be plenty of that," I argued. "And the best of it is, you won't be there to stop it. You'll be prancing around on stage while thousands of girls scream your name."

He shook his head, grinning, and I took a sip of my coffee.

We enjoyed a quiet hour eating our lunch and catching up, before the cafe started getting busier with families and we decided we should make tracks before anyone interrupted us. We strolled back leisurely along the footpath and back around the heath to the car, and then Harry drove us back to his house.

"Do you fancy a brew?" he asked as we pulled our shoes off in the hall.

"Yeah, I could murder a good cup of tea," I admitted.

While Harry made the drinks I went into the lounge and flicked the television on, and began looking through the film channels looking for something to watch. He came and sat next to me, and I tucked my legs up underneath me and curled my hands around my cup of tea while we discussed what to watch.

The intercom sounded, and we both fell silent and looked at each other.

"I'm not expecting anyone," he said, looking puzzled.

He slid gracefully off the sofa and walked over to the huge windows, and peered through the net curtain. Even with the windows shut, I heard the screams.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, sitting up straight as he jumped back from the window.

"Fans outside," he sighed. "About thirty of them." The intercom sounded again.

"Seriously?" I said in disbelief. "Do they often do this?"

"If they know I'm home, yes," he replied. He came and sat back down next to me, just as the buzzer went again.

"You think they'd leave you alone to enjoy your day off," I said, more to myself than to Harry.

"Yeah, you'd think, wouldn't you," he said glumly. "Just ignore them, they'll get bored eventually."

But they didn't. An hour later they were screaming and laughing and kicking the gates, and continuously pressing the intercom.

"I'm really sorry about this," Harry apologised, looking fed up. "They saw me at the window before, so they know I'm here. I don't think they know you are, though," he added hastily, glancing at me.

"I'm not worried about that," I said, honestly, because I wasn't. I was more worried that Harry was getting hassled when he was clearly already exhausted and deserved some peace and quiet.

"I'm going to have to ask them to leave," he huffed, getting up off the sofa and disappearing into the hall as the buzzer went again.

"Please can you stop ringing my buzzer," I heard him say, but his voice was drowned out by hysterical screaming coming from outside the window and through the speaker. "I'm just trying to relax. Thank you."

He appeared back in the lounge and sat next to me again, closer than he had been last time, and he looked so fed up that instinctively I pulled him sideways towards me and he rested his head on my chest and sighed.

"Are you OK?" I asked, softly.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I don't mind fans asking for pictures and autographs when I'm out and about, really, but when they come here to my house I just think it's a step too far. People don't realise how draining it is to be watched by everyone constantly, and how much I cherish the few hours of privacy I get when I have a day off."

"I get it," I said quietly, and found myself running my fingers through his hair as he lay on me.

"I know you do," he whispered.

We stayed quiet for a while, engrossed in the film we were watching, and ignored the sounds of the fans outside. I was so cosy and comfy I began to feel my eyes drooping.

"I'm falling asleep here," I murmured to Harry, but got no response. I looked down to see he had already fallen asleep on me, for the second time in a week. "Is it my scintillating conversation?" I joked out loud, even though no one could hear me.

I spent half an hour keeping myself awake by plaiting Harry's hair into several French plaits down the side of his head, but had to leave the ends loose as I had no hair elastics to secure them. When he eventually stirred and lifted his head he immediately frowned at me.

"What have you done to my hair?" he muttered, lifting his hand and running it over the plaits.

"Plaited it," I grinned, and he scowled. "What?" I protested. "I had to do something to keep myself awake after you fell asleep on me. Again."

"Sorry about that," he mumbled. "It was just really relaxing with you stroking my hair like that."

"Do you think you'll cut it?" I wondered.

"One day," he said. "When I do I'll probably do it for charity or something. Why, don't you like it?"

"Yeah, course I do," I said as he sat up and began undoing the plaits. "You'd suit pretty much anything I reckon."

"Without looking at your watch, are you hungry?" he asked, and I poked my tongue out at him.

"Yes, a bit," I said.

"I can make us some dinner, if you like?" he offered, climbing off the sofa and stretching. "Are the fans still outside?"

"I haven't heard the intercom in a while, actually," I said. "Maybe they got bored and went home."

We didn't dare risk going anywhere near the windows, so we went into the kitchen and I chatted away to Harry while he made a large pan of chilli, complete with rice and nachos.

"I should think about heading home, really," I sighed, after we'd finished eating and sat back in our chairs.

"You can't leave until the fans are gone," he pointed out. "Well, unless you want to be all over Twitter."

"Good point," I conceded,

"Finally it suits me to have a crowd outside my house," he teased and I smiled shyly at him.

"What am I going to do if they camp out there?" I asked nervously.

"You'll just have to stay the night," he answered devilishly, and I threw my napkin at him.

"Not happening," I said with a smile. "So you can get those ideas out of your head."

"What ideas?" he asked, innocently.

"You know what ideas!" I said, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on palm, his elbow on the table.

"I don't think I do," he smirked. "Care to elaborate?"

"No!" I flushed. "You know exactly what I mean."

"If you are referring to something sexual," (he emphasised this word and smirked, and I felt my skin tingle), "I suggested no such thing. I meant you could sleep in the spare room. So maybe you need to get your mind out of the gutter, Miss Bradshaw."

He threw me a triumphant look and stood up to clear the plates while my face burned and my heart pounded wildly.

"That's a nice shade of red you're turning," he remarked casually with his back to me as he walked over to the sink.

"I'm not rising to this," I said, flustered.

"I am," he murmured throatily, and then burst out laughing when he finally turned round again and caught sight of my face.

"Stop it," I scolded him, pressing my hands to my cheeks, trying to cool them down.

"Sorry, am I getting you all hot and bothered?" he teased, smirking smugly.

"I'm not answering that," I declared as he came back over to the table and paused right beside me, reaching over unnecessarily to pick up my empty glass.

"You didn't need to," he murmured in my ear.

"Pack it in," I moaned. "You're crossing a line."

He stood up and smirked yet again at me, and then gave an innocent shrug. "Sorry, friend. I'm just teasing you. I thought you could take a bit of banter."

"Below the belt," I began to say, but the words died in my throat. But not before Harry had raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew before he even opened his mouth what his next words would be:

"You tried that once before but it was waaaayyy too good, remember?"

And with that, he gave a cheeky wink and turned away to load the dishwasher.

----****----

Sorry it's a slightly shorter chapter but I needed to break it here so the next few flow more smoothly. I'm really, really going to try and update again at the weekend but I can't promise, so if I don't I'll get another update posted as soon as I can - probably early next week.

Update on the Fanfiction Awards - No Control is just in the lead at the moment in Best Series with over 15k votes (although they have said the winners are not picked automatically by the number of votes, there are other factors that the team won't divulge!) If you have a spare few minutes and you feel like spamming, please feel free! I have a scan through the votes whenever I can, and some of you are so amazingly supportive, I am so grateful. Thank you to everyone who has voted so far xxx

P.S. I am on snapchat if you want to add me and see stupid selfies and random snaps of my not very interesting life!! It's rach.catherine :)