By the time she awakes, she's alone and cold. The bed is empty on Harry's side and she doesn't realise that he replaced his body that she was cuddling with a pillow when he awoke an hour ago. Y/N's stretching with a wide smile on her lips, and even though she's chilly, she's giddy with warmth from the memories of the night before.

She makes her way out of the room, pads of her toes soft on the carpet as she descends the stairs. It's warmer as she enters the kitchen and she's greeted with the wafting smells of pancakes and bacon. Gemma is sitting at the table digging into her food and Anne notices the girl's presence first from her position at the stove.

She raises a brow at her daughter-in-laws sleep attire, a knowing grin on her lips but Y/N doesn't notice it. Her eyes are focussed on her husband. He's off to the corner of the room, head down and hand stuffed into his suit pocket. He's dressed and ready for the day and he's holding the phone to his ear, muttering quietly.

Y/N fights back the blush of happiness that rises to her cheeks and she greets Anne, leaning against the counter while she flips another pancake. "Silly question, but how did you sleep?" she asks. Anne is visibly lighter in her mood as she makes breakfast and there's a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Y/N's never seen in her before.

She flips the pancake again, smoothing down the old, tatty apron that Y/N doesn't know Danny used to wear every morning. "Like a baby," she tells her with a firm smile. The sight of her happiness warms Y/N's heart and Harry joins them back in the kitchen frown set in his brow and his wife regards him cautiously.

Anne seems to sense his confusion without even looking at him. "What's wrong?" she asks, dishing up a plate for Y/N and starting on Harry's pancakes. She takes her plate from the woman but she's too concerned about the look on Harry's face to worry about food, despite what her stomach is telling her.

"That was Riccardo..." he starts, leaning forward on the counter. "He did the autopsy on Stefano at the house, was ready to fake the results to cover us," he begins to explain.

Anne hums, refusing to make eye contact as she pours the batter into the frying pan. Harry's eyes are flickering between her face and her movements. "And?" she asks, eyes still not meeting his.

He swallows. "Didn't you say you laced his scotch with rat poison?" His words pique the curiosity of Gemma and she's no longer got herself much of an appetite. Y/N's got her eyes on Harry, like she's trying to understand what he's about to tell them but she'd never be able to prepare herself for the truth.

"Because he said he found large traces of Penicillin in Stefano's blood from nearly six hours before his death..." Anne stills her movements, almost dropping the spatula in her hand as she stares at her son, eyes wide. "There's no sign of rat poison," he concludes, brows still furrowed tightly and Anne's shaking her head.

There's confusion and unspoken fear in the air as the Anne struggles to take in what her son has said. "What? But he's allergic to Penicillin... and he was in New York with you six hours before..." she's trailing off at the end of her sentence, shoulders slumping and chest heaving.

It's like the realisation of the untold truth weighs heavy on all of their shoulders at the same time. They're all racking their brains back to six hours before his death -- when he was in New York, in the meeting, with the only person Harry can think of that wanted Stefano dead more than he, and it clicks.

"Nino."

//

In her pretty yellow ditsy dress, Y/N is positively sweating from her seat at the dining table. Harry is sitting beside her, same solemn expression and dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. It's 10 am and he hasn't styled his hair -- in fact, he's nervous as hell and in three short hours, he'll be faced with the ceremony that will initiate him as Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia.

The laptop is set up in front of them, the reflection of their nervous faces staring back at them. It's been a week since the night of Stefano's death and four days since they've all been back in New York. Gemma and Anne are currently staying in the penthouse with Harry and Y/N, and neither of the latter two have slept soundly since.

Harry's been on edge since Stefano's death was announced. He's been watching his back more than usual, like he's waiting for Nino to strike down on him, too. He spoke with Salvatore to announce the news and Harry wonders if he suspects him or his son.

He's heard nothing from his cousin or other members of the family. What he has received is a date and a location from Dante. The time and place of Harry's coronation. The coronation where he will bleed and bind himself by duty and honour to the Famiglia and Dante himself. Where he will be marked and crowned as the youngest serving Capo known.

In the four days they've been back in New York, Harry has kept Y/N closer than before. Neither of them have left the penthouse since their arrival home but he's gone as far as restricting her from using the balcony as precaution. He isn't prepared to endanger or lose her.

She understands, of course. And while she doesn't appreciate the lack of little freedom she had before, she's thankful and she listens. He isn't being paranoid, he's being cautious. Harry isn't the only one that thinks it's Nino and Y/N will be damned if she lets her husband be played by him. She's on his side, always.

"Hey!" A chipper voice is what breaks the pair from their distant monologues and they focus on the brown-haired beauty that is Maria Saccaro. The tips of her curls are barely pink anymore and she's taken out the majority of her piercings. Y/N almost doesn't recognise her in her cream sweater and light makeup. She looks younger, innocent.

She frowns. "Hey, Ria. How are you?" Y/N greets her cousin with a timid tone and she can feel Harry squeeze her thigh from under the table.

That's another thing that's had time to progress in the past week: their affections. Kisses and cuddles and holding hands at any opportunity -- even in front of the eyes of Anne and Gemma. The one thing they promised each other is the one thing they haven't yet managed to do. But maybe that's for the best. Now she's thought about it, she's not quite ready for that.

Maria shrugs with pursed lips and shimmies closer. Y/N can tell she's sitting on her bed with her computer propped on her lap by the string of fairy lights wrapped around the metal rods of her bed frame. "I'm okay." Y/N frowns harder. There's something off about her cousin and it's unsettling.

Harry clears his throat and leans a little closer into the frame. Maria hasn't yet acknowledged his presence but Harry doesn't take offence.

"Listen, we need to talk to you about this arrangement with Nino," he says.

Y/N pries his hand off her thigh and intertwines their fingers in a show of support and reassurance.

The pair notice Maria's shoulders visibly sag and the spark in her eye from when the papers were signed is completely gone. Y/N can sense her disgust and nausea on the topic and she squeezes Harry's hand absentmindedly.

"Now that Harry's Capo, we're gonna try and find a loophole to get you out of this. We know you think Nino poisoned Stefano, too. We're gonna stop this wedding, okay? Harry and I will find a way."

There's a flicker of silence that washes over them and both Harry and Y/N know Maria isn't telling them something. She's oddly quiet and reserved, like she's swallowing back a lump of detrimental secrets.

"Maria?" Y/N asks, brows furrowed and head slightly tilted.

The young woman on the computer screen lets out a shaky breath and scratches at her eyebrows, lips pursed and Y/N can tell she's gnawing on the skin. "I need to tell you something," she admits in a worrisome tone. She's never acted so oddly when sharing secrets with Y/N before and she's starting to wonder if it's because Harry is there, too.

He thinks the same but makes no attempt to excuse himself.

"I met someone."

There's another wave of silence that washes over the three and while Y/N is quivering in fear of the repercussions her cousin will have to face, Harry is squirming at another coverup he'll have to forge after his initiation.

But Maria isn't looking at Harry with pleading eyes that beg for forgiveness. She's staring at Y/N instead, with a look on her face that cries for acceptance and understanding.

"Maria..." Y/N breathes, eyes closed and she's gripping Harry's hand much tighter than before. Her cousin is spluttering on the other end of the call and shuffling closer to the camera in an attempt to have her listen.

"I know, I know... but it's not what you think!" She quickly tries to defend and Harry can't believe his ears.

Y/N scoffs and neither of the other two have ever seen her act that way toward Maria.

"Oh, really? Then what is it, Maria? Huh? What is it? Tell me, because I can't keep trying to cover and protect you, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

Harry's eyes are glued to his wife, slightly wide and glossy. He doesn't know why he has the urge to let a tear shed at her dismay but he blinks it back and steadies his heart. His and Y/N's knuckles are burning white from their tight grip on the other and they seem to need a better, grounding safe code that won't break their hands.

Maria stays silent for a moment longer. Her head is bowed in self-disappointment and she knows Y/N's right. But Maria's serious this time. It's not what it looks like.

"I met a girl..." she swallows, eyes fluttering nervously to the couple and they regard her with stone expressions but their eyes are drowning in confusion and curiosity.

Y/N can see how she's trying to stop her bottom lip from trembling relentlessly and she's wringing her hands out in her lap.

"Maria..." she whispers softly.

Her voice holds nothing but concern and sincerity and she wants to hold her cousin and never let go. Maria chuckles wetly and she sniffles back tears.

"I know, I know. Surprise, I'm gay," she tries to joke but she blubbers into her hands instead.

Y/N's crying with her, frustrated and angry at the world they live in and Harry feels sick to his stomach. He knows the kind of shit that happens to homosexuals within the tight confinements of the Mafia and it's been something he's disagreed with since he understood what gay meant. Since the beliefs that same-sex love is wrong were forced upon him at a young age.

"Who is she?" Harry speaks softly and both pairs of Saccaro eyes are on him. Y/N's hand is trembling in his hold and he tugs her a little closer to him.

"A girl from church," she admits and Maria can't help but laugh at her own predicament. Falling in love with a girl that she met in church. Could it happen to anyone but her?

Y/N and Harry snicker laughs under their breaths at the situation and it somehow seems to lighten the overall mood a bit. Harry nods and Y/N is coddling into his side, head on his shoulder. She's hardly spoken to Maria and she doesn't miss the side-eye glance that her cousin offers at her willing closeness to the made man.

"I'll find a way to fix this, Maria," Harry promises. "In the meantime, try not to deflower any more church girls."

//

Upon the coronation of a Made Man to a Capo, there are many things that are required to take place to deem said party fit and honourable enough for such a title. There are limits that are pushed and tests that are made, edges that men are pushed to, pressure they're hoped to crack under.

The chosen location is one of the many abandoned warehouses that the Famiglia have access to. It's packed to the brim, every folding chair occupied and facing the platformed stage that Dante stands upon, beside a thick concrete looking podium.

He's in another one of his slick black suits -- everyone in this place is -- and as Y/N looks around from her position beside Mike on the right of the stage, she's the only woman on the premises.

She made it clear before they left an hour ago that she was unsure about this. Y/N doesn't know what to expect attending this kind of ceremony -- a coronation that women are typically sheltered from. But like Harry had said, things will change under his hand and let it start with his wife standing by his side from the second he reigns as Capo.

Harry's still standing behind her, dressed in a crisp white suit -- a tradition that has followed through generations, a rule that must be followed. For blood is seen and tarnished on the white of a soul. Harry's remembered that saying since he was a child.

The warehouse is silent as Dante raises a hand, chatters and mumblings falling still and Harry leans closer to Y/N, lips against her ear.

"Under no circumstances do you leave Mike's side, unless it's with me," he reminds her, standing tall before she can utter anything back.

She doesn't, but she lets her hand knock briskly against his to silently promise him that she understands and she's here.

They're both rattling with nerves. Harry doesn't want to leave her side in fear someone will attack her. Y/N doesn't want him to get on that stage in fear someone will take a shot. She's gnawing on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling -- not that it's doing much use, but she can't show weakness for either of them.

Head high, shoulders low, Y/N. She can hear her mother's voice rattling in her head. It's perhaps the only sound piece of advice she's ever offered the young girl.

She tries to ignore the hard expressions of unfamiliar faces, tries to pretend she doesn't know that every single one of them has at least two guns and a knife on their person. She tries to forget that half the population of the building despise Harry, that they believe he's a traitor by blood. She tries to forget it all.

"We are here today to test the fitness and the loyalty of Harry Styles-Dellucci -- to determine the strength and honour to crown him Capo dei Capi of the New York Famiglia." Dante's overpowering voice booms and the coldness of it spikes shivers down Y/N's torso and spine.

He extends an arm to Harry's direction and her husband follows it. He climbs the tall step of the platform to stand beside his Boss and he meets Dante's judging eyes. Between them both, they know Harry will own the position no matter how this goes, but for the sake of appearances, they put on facades and follow tradition.

When he stands beside his superior, he shows no emotion, ignoring the stares and snickers of disgust. He doesn't have to look at the audience to know Nino is sitting front row with a filthy smirk on his thin lips.

"Remove your shirt. Show those of the Famiglia your scars of duty and honour," Dante commands.

Harry shuts out all emotion, like he can't feel anything. He shrugs off his blazer first, throwing it to the ground and off the platform. He stares blankly at the podium when removing his shirt and when it slips off his arms, he makes a point to let it drop at Nino's feet.

Dante has to bite back a snicker. Y/N has to bite back a gasp.

No matter how many times she's seen him shirtless, she never gets used to the sight of his scars. No matter how many times she traces her fingers across his chest and back, she never gets used to the feel of the raised or indented skin. He turns to the masses, shoulders squared and chin high, surging nothing but pride and power.

Dante circles him, a fixed blade glistening between his fingers as he twists it in his palm.

"Harry Styles-Dellucci is a valuable asset to the Mafia," Dante begins, voice echoing through the ears and minds of his soldiers. "His allies ensure safety and power within our Famiglia. He has promised potential and respect since before his initiation at age 11, when he mercilessly stabbed a member of the Bratva through the bottom of his chin and through their skull," his voice fades off in a low drawl and the admission sends shivers through Y/N's body.

She's struggling to hide her discomfort and in her weakened moment of unfamiliarity, she misses the way Nino eyes her with curiosity and knowingness. She misses the plan he plots right in his head. He's got that sick smirk on his face and while Y/N doesn't notice, Harry does, and it rattles something dangerous in the pit of him. Something monstrous and merciless.

Mike notices it all, but his gun stays strapped to his chest and his hands remain folded over his front -- awaiting the signal to take Y/N out of the situation, but it doesn't come. Brian is close behind the two, eyes dark and there's a chilling excitement that burns in his eyes; a hungry desire and need to kill.

"Today, we test Harry on his true self. We test his loyalty and we question his power. We initiate him with the three steps of the coronation," he announces. "Bleed for the Famiglia, torture a traitor, take the oath."

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, Y/N watches her husband spread his arms either side of him. She watches Dante raise the blade, watches it glisten under the beams of sun that peer through the cracks of the warehouse, and swallowing back uncertainty, she watches the blade swipe across the tanned skin of his chest in one succession and a red river is unleashed.

Harry shows no sign of pain, no flicker or glint of discomfort. His facade doesn't falter and the blood spills down the divots of toned muscles until it stains the white pants of his suit. Everything is white noise to Y/N as he slices again across his left bicep before bringing the knife down a third time to his right.

She feels faint, dizzy. She's ignoring the comments and snickers and Dante's shrill voice as a piercing scream echoes through the warehouse. Another suit drags an unknown party to the platform; a brown, stitched bag wrapped around his head and he's shoved down on his knees with a thud and a cry.

Y/N's trying not to look, not to show the complete and utter stricken sickness and fear she's hammered with. But the bag is torn from the stranger's head and she sees distant fear and desperation in his eyes. Then she hears it.

"Take his life. The same way you took your first."

Y/N's blood runs cold and she can't hide the fear anymore. She doesn't want to see this side of him, she doesn't want to let it taint what she thinks and has grown to adore. She doesn't want to fear and hate him, but she can't look away. She doesn't miss the way Harry's head snaps up at Dante's command and a bewildered look flashes across his face for a brief moment.

He doesn't say anything, but Dante gives him a look. A look that tells him to shut up and do it. Harry wants to turn around, to look at her, to plead for her to forgive him, but he can't.

He doesn't ask the questions that rattle his mind: what did he do to deserve this fate? Who is he? Can he not redeem himself? No. Instead, Harry ignores the begs and pleads of the doomed man and with a flicker of regret and remorse in his eyes, he says a silent prayer and the knife is jabbed into the traitor's throat.

Y/N bites back the shrill that almost escapes her trembling lips and she loses her footing, crashing into Mike's side. There's an onslaught of cheers and encouragement that burst from the soldiers and Famiglia and it drowns out Y/N's empty sobs of disgust and worry. Mike is quick to wrap his arms around the girl, to hold her up and get her out of the situation.

But her eyes meet Harry's as he turns to seek her comfort and she can't move. She knows that look in his eyes, the look of