Chapter Text
Louis Tomlinson of number four, Ollerton’s Nook, was proud to say he was perfectly normal, thank you very much.
And he is, really. Akin with his Muggle upbringing, he loves the BBC Radio One Breakfast Show, he loves getting the Tube around London for no reason at all and he loves homemade apple crumble and custard on Sunday evenings. He’s very fond of these little Muggle traditions that he keeps nestled away in his now rather different life and he holds them very dear to him.
Harry’s convinced he only listens to the Breakfast Show because he has a not-so-secret crush on the presenter. While that is absolutely not true (and part of why he listens to it religiously has nothing to do with adding to how touchy-feely Harry can be in the mornings) he enjoys this little bridge back to Muggle normality. Hearing Muggle news and having something to talk to Lottie about is important, of course, but so is having a nice little reminder of the world he came from before he goes off to do Wizarding things. It’s a morning routine he has no intention of breaking any time soon, that’s for sure.
The same goes for the Tube. People on the Tube are off to their typical Muggle jobs – from office workers to lawyers to teachers to shopkeepers and as far as he’s concerned it’s absolutely fascinating. Louis often thinks that if he hadn’t turned out to be a wizard he’d have liked to get a job in central London just so he could have a blissful few hours of people watching every morning. He likes to assign people back stories, thinking about what kind of life they lead without magic. He’s more curious than anything and it’s something he often wonders about, a nice private train of thought he likes to ride every now and then.
Not that Harry doesn’t come with him sometimes, but there have been times when he’s had to physically clap a hand over his stupid big mouth because he’s not exactly quiet or subtle and once accidentally asked a bloke reading on his iPad how he got it so bright without a spell. Honestly.
It was around that time that Louis invested in a TV, after he decided that the world he loves the most and the boy he loves the most need to get a little better acquainted. It turned out to be an excellent investment, because not only did Harry find Muggle shows hilarious and Muggle music videos completely fascinating, his new penchant for cooking programmes comes alive on Louis’s table nearly every night – pastas, curries, vibrant puddings and cakes and pastries, and a roast dinner every Sunday; Harry doing something different that he thinks Louis might like each time. Harry’s currently completely hooked on the latest series of Great British Bake Off and Louis loves nothing more than curling up against Harry’s chest with a bowl of something baked and smothered in custard to end the week. It’s their little tradition now.
There are, however, some incredible perks to being a wizard and Louis can see none better than the fact that he gets to wake up every morning next to the love of his life, who he wouldn’t have met were it not for the Hogwarts letter that dropped unceremoniously down his chimney and turned his and his mother’s world on its head. His best friends too – he can’t imagine a better partner in crime than Zayn, the at-first shy boy he ended up getting paired with on his first day back after his awkward year out.
(He’ll never forget the heartbreak in his mother’s voice the day she told him she couldn’t afford to send him back for the next year, but after a letter exchange with Professor McGonagall she had agreed to take him back the year later, so in the meantime his mother could try to get a better job and he could watch the girls during the day. He worked out for the best in the end, despite it feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world at the time.)
So he fell in love with magic at eleven (okay, so maybe his life’s not as normal as it could be), fell in love with his boy at seventeen, and fell in love with their little cottage home when he was nineteen and his boy was finally done with school too. He remembers Harry’s last year at Hogwarts and the nearly unbearable forced separation between them as he worked pulling pints at the Three Broomsticks during the day and Floo’ing back to Doncaster at night. He remembers painful nights without him and awkward nights with him in his cramped little single bed, waking up tangled in gangly limbs even more than he does now and drenched in a combination of their sweat from being pressed too close. He remembers stupid rows when he forgot to set alarms so Harry was late back to Hogwarts and hands clapped over mouths as they tried to get each other off without waking the rest of the house. It’s been a long road, hard at times, but he’s here and he’s still as in love with his boy as he was when he was seventeen.
And now here he is, twenty four years old, a wizard – a relatively newly qualified Auror, even - and now he has a bruise on his chin because his bloody boyfriend just head-butted him in his sleep.
“Harold,” he hisses, voice still heavy with sleep. Harry snuffles and his grip on Louis tightens, pulling him closer as if on instinct and burying his sleepy face into Louis’s sweaty hair. “Harry, gerrof me!”
“Don’t wanna,” Harry mumbles, speech slurred. “Cuddle back, meanie.”
Louis sighs like it’s a chore but lets himself sag against Harry’s warm skin, pressing a little kiss into one of his collarbones. Harry, in turn, lets out a happy sigh and mumbles something that sounds like good morning but could be anything, really.
“Good morning,” he mumbles back anyway, hands stroking up Harry’s slightly sweat-damp back and breathing in his favourite familiar scent. “Sleep well?”
He feels Harry nod into his hair. “Always sleep well with you,” he says, then pulls back to smile at Louis dopily. Louis shakes his head and kisses his nose.
“Glad to hear it,” he says happily. “What time is it, sunshine?”
Harry groans dramatically but leans back a little, blindly fumbling for his watch on the bedside table. He snags it up and brings his arm back, blinking at it sleepily. “Half seven, just,” he says with a little yawn. “Not in work ‘til ten so I can cuddle for at least another half an hour.”
“I like me the sound of that,” Louis says. He reaches for the corner of the duvet and pulls it up over their shoulders, cocooning them in a comfy warmth. “Anything happening at work today? You got any specific procedures or anything?”
Harry shakes his head so his long hair spreads along the pillow like a fluffy blanket. “Not today. Later this week we’ve got to perform a Replacement Spell on an older witch’s liver but aside from that I think this week I’m down in Emergency Spells.”
Louis nods, running his fingers slowly through Harry’s messy fringe. “Sounds like you’re in for a hectic few days.”
Harry shrugs. “I mean, three days in a row down in Emergency Spells isn’t my favourite but we’re short-staffed now Jesy’s on maternity leave. I don’t mind.”
“You just want to get in Jesy’s good books so you’ll be allowed to babysit,” Louis teases. Harry doesn’t even blush, just sticks his tongue out playfully and Louis flicks at it. Harry catches his wrist and pouts at him dramatically so Louis presses a gentle kiss onto his jaw and slides his wrist down to tangle their hands together instead.
“It’s exciting though,” Harry says, half in awe and half indignant. “One of our best friends had a baby, Lou, a baby. We’re getting so grown up.”
“Speak for yourself, my little baby boyfriend,” Louis snorts. “Practically dating a child, I am.”
Harry pouts even harder. “He says as if he didn’t have to repeat a year of Hogwarts. Cradle snatcher. Do you know I’ve been dating you nearly a third of my life?”
Louis raises his eyebrows. “Has it been that long?” He tuts. “Better trade you in soon, maybe find someone who doesn’t hog the bloody duvet as much.”
“Lou!” Harry whines and Louis shakes his head, giggling as he presses himself closer into Harry’s arms. He peppers little kisses across Harry’s bare chest and looks up at him as he sinks his teeth into one of his collarbones.
“One who whines less too,” he muses, cackling as Harry pushes him away and folds his arms across his chest. “Oh, babe, don’t be like that.”
“I just want my Monday morning cuddle,” Harry scowls. “You always ruin my Monday morning cuddle; you’re such a terri-“
Louis cuts him off by surging forward, hand fisting in Harry’s hair to pull him forward so they can kiss properly. Morning breath is a little gross but Louis presses his tongue in between Harry’s lips and licks them open, uncaring. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve kissed like this anyway. Eventually, Harry’s crossed arms drop and Louis smiles as one comes to drape across his waist and the other cups his cheek, pulling them closer.
When they pull apart for air, Louis wipes his mouth on the duvet and gives him a look. “Happy?”
Harry snorts, using his own thumb to wipe at the corner of his lips. “Better. I mean, it was hardly a cuddle, but…”
“Oh my Godric,” Louis says exasperatedly. “Come here, you.”
Harry positively beams as Louis cuddles him back in, petting at his hair and pressing his nose into Harry’s temple, bodies pressed as close together as they can be. “Better,” he mumbles and Louis snorts, taking a deep inhale of Harry’s wonderful homey scent as he nuzzles closer.
“Love you,” he mumbles, because suddenly he doesn’t want to be playful anymore – he just wants to hold his boy and cocoon himself in a nest of blankets and stay there forever, his second week of work be damned. “My little baby boyfriend.”
“Love you more,” Harry sighs out, hands tightening over Louis’s. “Thank you.”
“Always a pleasure,” Louis replies, kissing at his curls. “Hair’s soft today.”
“Mmmm,” Harry hums. “Used that new potion on it last night. It’s supposed to make the curls bounce even more.”
Louis laughs, tousling it a little. “Wish you didn’t have to tie it up for work so much. I love it this length.”
Harry purrs as Louis’s nimble fingers scratch at his scalp. “Don’t really have a choice though, do I?” His eyes go wide suddenly. “Shit, what time are you in?”
“Half nine, don’t worry,” Louis says, his fingers still moving through Harry’s curls. “Want me to make you breakfast?”
“Please,” Harry nods. “Just five more minutes though.”
Seven minutes later Louis reluctantly lets Harry out of his hold, where he traipses naked towards the shower. Louis watches him (and his arse) disappear into their creaky hallway and down the landing to their little bathroom. He stays propped up against the pillows for a little longer before he too gets up, heading over to his side of the wardrobe to get dressed.
Ten minutes after that, he’s downstairs and toasting bread under their grill for Harry’s breakfast. He munches his own toast, spread thickly with butter and jam, as he potters around, locating the Nutella (“sometimes I can’t work out if my favourite thing from the Muggle world is you or Nutella,” Harry has often said) and then taking a banana from their fruit bowl. He chops it into slices and then reaches for his wand to guide the bread out from under the grill and onto a plate.
He’s just arranging the banana into a smiley face on each piece of toast (he really is dating a child) when Harry shuffles into the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless. His hair is scraped into a tight little bun, little curls decorating the back of his neck, and he’s humming to himself in a way that makes Louis roll his eyes so he doesn’t explode with fond.
“This for me?” Harry asks, pointing to the plate of toast with a happy little grin, his tongue pressed against his teeth.
“Obviously,” Louis says through a mouthful of his own toast. “Don’t see anyone else around who would eat that disgusting paste.”
Harry raises his eyebrows. “It’s a beautiful foodstuff. One of the best things Muggles ever came out with.”
Louis sighs. “Yes, I know.”
Harry crunches through his slice merrily and Louis sighs, directing his own empty plate to the sink with a flick of his wand. He then reaches for his mug of tea, blowing on it and watching the liquid ripple against the rim of the mug. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip as Harry starts to say something he can’t quite make out through a mouthful of half-masticated banana.
“Sorry, love?”
Harry chews hurriedly and then swallows. “I said what does your day involve?”
Louis shrugs. “Dunno yet. Probably just going to be pissing about with Zayn for the most part. Nothing big happening at the moment and anyway, we’re bottom of the pile, aren’t we?”
Harry looks sad. “Does it feel like that, really? Lou, I’m…”
Louis raises an eyebrow. “Are you not listening to me? I get to piss around with Zayn as a job. Nineteen galleons an hour to piss about with my best mate,” he cuts in, setting his mug on the counter. “I like it very much a lot so far.”
Harry shakes his head. “Well, alright then. Good to know all that training is going to good use.”
Louis just shrugs, a little grin playing on his lips as he reaches for his wand again. He walks over to Harry and gently holds it against his neck, murmuring “Aufero Macula” and watching the love bite that’s standing out starkly against the pale skin of Harry’s neck shrink into itself and disappear.
“I liked that,” Harry whines, pouting at Louis. “It was one of your best.”
“Not very professional though, is it, little darling?” Louis says, bouncing up on his tiptoes and pressing his lips onto Harry’s quickly. “Eat up, love, you need to go soon.”
Harry eats the rest of his toast obediently and Louis trots off to find the top half of Harry’s uniform from their little laundry room. He hears Harry’s bare feet slap up the stairs again as he’s rifling through a pile of fresh laundry for it and then the clang of the pipes as the taps are turned on. On locating it, he walks back through to the kitchen and sets it on the table, then trots to the back door to do his absolute least favourite task of a morning.
“Hermione!” he calls, already feeling a blush creeping up his neck as one of their Muggle neighbours walks past, brows raised in amusement. He offers them a little wave and mentally curses his boyfriend’s terrible taste in names. “Hermione, come on girl!”
It’s not long before he spots their ginger tab trotting up the path, both head and tail raised high. She hops past Louis (they’re not quite on the same level of friendship as her and Harry are) and into the kitchen, mewling expectantly as she circles a table leg.
Louis sighs, bending down to pick up their post then goes back into the kitchen to feed the cat. He tosses the letters onto the table, barely glancing at what’s on the cover of the Daily Prophet, and then rummages around in the bottom of their cupboard for a sachet of cat food. He’s just pouring it into Hermione’s bowl when Harry returns, where he rests a lingering hand onto Louis’s hip as he reaches past him to get to his scrub top.
“Thank you,” he says as he slides it over his head. He reaches down to scratch at Hermione’s ears, who promptly ignores him and just keeps rubbing herself up Louis’s leg excitedly. “You gonna be home for half five?”
“Can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t be,” Louis says as he puts down the bowl of cat food. He heads to the sink to fill up Hermione’s water bowl. “Why? What are your dinner plans, babe?”
“Thought I would… I would bake a… a pie,” Harry says slowly, turning his focus away from Louis and the cat with eyes trained on the Daily Prophet on the table. “Well, fuck me.”
“Babe?” Louis asks after a pause, drying his hands on a towel before shuffling over. “Babe, everything okay?”
Harry picks the newspaper up, unfolding it so he can read it properly. “Lou,” he says quietly, his voice laced with concern. “Lou, someone’s died.”
“Someone who?” Louis questions. He instinctively tucks himself closer to Harry, hooking his chin around his shoulder so he can read the paper too. Harry’s staring at the obituaries on the back page, a deep frown etched onto his face as he reads over his shoulders. “Evangeline Carter?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, I… my mum goes for coffee with her quite a lot. Gemma was in the same year as Beth Carter at Hogwarts, and I used to babysit Alfie when I was home during the summer. He’s only ten, bloody hell.” He lets out a gloomy sigh. “That’s so sad, Lou, they think it was suspicious according to this.”
“That is sad,” Louis agrees. He presses his lips into the top of Harry’s arm. “You okay, baby?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry assures. He turns his face towards Louis and presses his face into Louis’s hair, leaving a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah, just a bit weird when there’s a connection, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Louis agrees. He squeezes an arm around Harry’s waist, holding him close. “Do you wanna write your mum a quick Owl or something?”
“Nah, it’s alright,” Harry says. He pulls a face as he folds the newspaper back up, dropping it back on the table before he turns around to hug Louis properly. “Just makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Louis says again dumbly. He holds him tightly, pressing a few gentle kisses into his neck and rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. “You big old softie, you.”
Harry huffs a little laugh, pulling back reluctantly but keeping a lingering hand on Louis’s waist. “I know, I know. I just… the idea of someone being without their loved one makes me so sad, you know?”
“I do know, babe,” Louis says. “Maybe do send your mum an Owl tonight, yeah? It might make you feel a bit better.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Harry mumbles. He sniffs a little and shakes his head. “Yeah, I will,” he says after a few seconds. “I wanna make sure the family is doing okay.”
“Of course, baby, of course,” Louis says. He bounces up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss onto Harry’s mouth. “Hey, can you wait like five minutes for me to clean my teeth and do my fringe? Then I’ll Floo with you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Harry says, offering him a little smile. “Be quick, yeah?”
Louis nods, patting his hip before he disappears upstairs. He’s ready to go only a few minutes later, teeth brushed and fringe styled with his briefcase (that doesn’t hold much apart from a nice quill that Zayn bought him for his birthday one year and a few stacks on parchment with various scribblings) in hand. Harry’s already got the pot of Floo in his hand, which he holds out for Louis to take his own handful of. He steps into the fireplace first and clears his throat.
“The Ministry of Magic,” he says in a crisp voice, and then he finds himself shooting through a tunnel of green light that he’s still never gotten used to. When he gets there, he stumbles out as gracefully as he can and straightens his jumper, running a hand through his hair while he stands and waits for Harry, who appears a couple of moments later.
“You okay?” he asks, like he does every time because he knows how much Louis hates it. Louis chuckles and nods, taking Harry’s hand in his where he leads him into the giant atrium that separates all parts of the Ministry.
Harry’s needs to walk through the Ministry and out to Muggle London to get to his own job in St. Mungo’s but he always insists on Floo’ing with Louis and then walking it, so they walk hand in hand through the throng of people until they reach the entrance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They tuck into the side, away from the hustle and bustle, and Louis brings up his fingers to trace softly down Harry’s cheek.
“You go save lives,” Louis tells him, squeezing his hand as they share a quick parting kiss.
“You too,” Harry grins. “Love you!”
“Love you too!” Louis calls after him, then pushes through the doorway and traipses down the corridor to the Auror Office.
“Oi, Tomlinson, you’re two and a half minutes late!” Zayn shouts at him, shooting him an almost convincing unimpressed look over the top of his desk. Louis just grins, setting his briefcase down and flopping down into his chair.
“Sorry,” he says airily. “I guess the pull of Harry’s mouth was just more appealing than spending the day staring at your sorry mug.”
“Excuse you,” Zayn shoots back. “We both know you spend all your time staring at that fucking photo of Harry on your desk; you barely look at your work, let alone me. Also you totally didn’t have sex this morning.”
Louis pretends to gasp. “How dare you accuse me of lying?”
“It’s a Monday,” Zayn says with an eye roll. “You can barely function on Mondays at the best of times, let alone wake yourself up for morning sex. Honestly.”
“Who said anything about sex?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows. “He’s just a very nice kisser.”
“You two are foul,” Zayn informs him. “The Louis I met in fourth year would never have said anything like that. We need to get you out on the piss.”
“What, so I can pull?”
“No, so I can,” Zayn crows exasperatedly. “And you can wingman me but then leave me without fuss to go home to Harry’s mouth while I get blown in the loos.”
“Gross,” Louis says with a wrinkle of his nose.
Zayn sighs. “You see what you’ve reduced me to, Louis? I need companionship!”
“Getting someone to blow you in a club is hardly companionship,” Louis points out.
“Well, with a best mate like you, I’ll take what I can get,” Zayn grumbles.
“You’re such a wanker,” Louis replies haughtily. “Come on, stop your incessant and quite frankly embarrassing whining and let’s go get tea. I’m going to need it if we’re spending the day…” He pauses, then moves his briefcase to the floor so he can look at the stack of papers on his desk and groans, “spending the day looking at the arrests of Dark Wizards for petty theft and broom fines between 1970 and 2000.”
“What a life we lead,” Zayn agrees, standing up and brushing down his jumper. “Coffee and a smoke if we can squeeze one in? I think we’ve got about fifteen minutes before Cowell gets here.”
“Brilliant,” Louis says with a nod, standing up and grabbing his briefcase where he digs around for his cigarettes. “Let’s go.”
They head out into the corridor, greeting their co-workers as they go with quick waves and nods. The break room is right down the end of the corridor, past the entrance to the rest of the sub-divisions of their department, so they walk down what feels like the impossibly long corridor bantering between them. Louis’s just reaching out to tweak one of Zayn’s nipples when the door to another department opens and the pair of them nearly collides with a rather familiar face.
“Watch where you’re going!” Liam Payne snaps, jumping out the way with rather unnecessary dramatics, at least in Louis’s opinion.
“Sorry,” Louis says cheerily, not really that sorry. He wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulders instead, revelling in the way Liam’s cheeks redden as him and Zayn make eye contact. “We’ll be a lot more careful next time, promise.”
“No, you won’t,” Liam grumbles, then goes even redder in the face. “Um, hi Zayn.”
“Hi, Liam,” Zayn mutters. Louis doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s probably pink in the cheeks as well. “Sorry about this twat.”
“You’re fine,” Liam stammers, shaking his head rather wildly. “Um, okay, um, bye Zayn.”
“Bye!” Louis calls cheerily after he scuttles off, then turns his head to laugh in Zayn’s shoulder. “This is so funny.”
“The poor lad,” Zayn says, unwinding Louis’s arms from around him indignantly. “Honestly, you’re such a dick to him.”
“Yeah, well,” Louis says with a shrug, “perhaps if you two would stop fucking dancing around each other then I wouldn’t be.”
“I’m not doing any fucking dancing,” Zayn scowls, shouldering open the door to the break room. “It’s not my fault he’s fancied me for years.”
“Yes, it is,” Louis retorts. “It’s those fucking cheekbones of yours.”
“Like I can help my face, Lou,” Zayn sighs, like it’s an argument he’s had to deal with many a time. He sidles over to the kettle and flicks it on, leaning against the table. “It’s been, like, five years. Like, surely he should have twigged that I’m not interested yet?”
“Why not though?” Louis asks, dropping a teabag into his mug. He hands the jar of instant coffee to Zayn. “He’s almost fit now. He’s got a good set of arms – I know how you feel about arms, Zee – and I bet he’s got a massive…”
“That’s enough from you,” Zayn says sharply. “He’s a nice lad, but I don’t… he’s too nicey nicey? Too weird too, like… like…”
“The fact that if you dated him you’d have to tell people your boyfriend is head of a division called the Office of Peculiar Herbs and Shrubberies?” Louis grins. Zayn sighs and nods. “Yeah, that’s enough to put me off dating anyone.”
Zayn snorts. “Yes, because that’s the only reason you wouldn’t date Liam.”
“Excuse you,” Louis says, snatching the just boiled kettle up before Zayn can reach it. “I could date Liam.”
“I’m telling Harry you said that.”
Louis waves his hand dismissively. “Harry’s always banging on about how fit this one nurse is, I’m sure he’ll survive me telling him that I think Liam Payne is vaguely fit now. Honesty is healthy in a strong relationship, Zaynie.”
Zayn snorts again. “You two are hideous. Hideous.”
“Jealousy is unattractive,” Louis says. He dumps his teabag in the bin and then pulls his cigarettes out his pocket. “Smoke?”
Zayn nods, quickly heaping two teaspoons of sugar into his mug before he follows Louis out into the little smoking area attached to the break room. It’s essentially just a small courtyard with high walls hiding them completely from view, but it’s a place that Louis’s become strangely fond of in the two weeks he’s been there. There’s another wizard tucked in the corner that Louis doesn’t recognise, so after a brief and polite nod of acknowledgement he leans back against the wall and lights his cigarette with his wand, then does the same to Zayn’s.
“I can already tell today’s gonna be a long one,” he groans on his exhale, and then takes a long swig of his tea. He glances over at Zayn for a response, but his best mate offers him nothing but a little shrug, so he groans again even louder this time. “Zayn. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Zayn grumbles, blowing an indignant stream of smoke from his nose. “’m tired, is all.”
“Zayn,” Louis says again, drawing out his name in a rather patronising way. “What’s wrong, buttercup?”
“I’m telling you, it’s just tiredness,” Zayn tries, blinking at him over the rim of his mug. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“Did Perrie stop over?” Louis asks, taking another drag. Zayn rolls his eyes.
“No, I fucking told you in there that I haven’t had a shag for ages,” he says exasperatedly, though there’s about as much bite to it as a sleepy kitten. “She’s…” He cuts himself off and takes a long drag of his cigarette before he shakes his head and continues. “She found someone else, like, a few weeks ago anyway.”
“Zayn…” Louis starts to say, but Zayn just shakes his head.
“It’s fine, yeah? We both knew it was best friends having sex towards the end, that’s why we broke up innit?”
“Still,” Louis says, quickly casting a spell to make his mug levitate so he can pull Zayn into a one-armed hug, “I know how much you loved her. It’s never going to be easy; I’m sorry, love.”
“Yeah, well,” Zayn shrugs, but leans into Louis’s body all the same. “It’s over for good anyway. Her new fella seems like a nice guy as well. He was the year above us at Hogwarts – your old year – do you remember an Agrippa Smyth?”
Louis snorts. “That Pureblood – no offence – arsehole from Slytherin?” He wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, I know him. Good friends with your Liam, if I remember.”
Zayn’s cheeks redden. “Not my Liam. Also, yeah, him. They’re old Wizarding family friends, someone my family never really mixed with.”
“Don’t blame ‘em,” Louis says, his eyebrows shooting up as he takes another drag of his cigarette. “They seem super opposed to Muggleborns and stuff. Doesn’t make them very likeable people.”
Zayn shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I mean, Perrie’s a smart girl, I just hope he’s not a dick to her about having Muggleborn friends and stuff.”
Louis snorts. “Perrie and Agrippa, man. What a pair of names to go together.”
“I know right,” Zayn chuckles, taking one final inhale and dropping the butt of his fag into one of the ashtrays, where it disintegrates with a hiss. “Bless her. I hope he makes her happy.”
“Oh, babe,” Louis says, pressing himself up on tiptoes so he can kiss Zayn’s temple. “You’ll find someone, yeah? It’s only a matter of time. You’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and you’re a darling friend.”
“I know,” Zayn grumbles, though he’s smiling as he says it. He sighs. “Thanks, Lou.”
“No problem, sunshine,” Louis says with a grin. He drops his cigarette in one of the ashtrays and then says, “Sorry I flaunted my perfect relationship in your face.”
Zayn cackles at that, pushing Louis away with his shoulder and sliding past him so they can head back inside. “Shut your mouth, gross boy. Don’t make me hate the pair of you even more than I already do.”
Louis smirks. “Arsehole.”
“Malik! Tomlinson!” a voice from inside suddenly yells and Zayn jumps, stepping back and knocking Louis’s floating mug to the floor with a crash. “Oh, for crying out loud, the pair of you. Inside, now.”
“We still have two minutes,” Louis gripes, but obediently follows Cowell back into the office.
“I heard that,” Cowell says, “and the answer is actually, no, you don’t have two minutes. Everyone!” The room turns to look at Cowell in the middle while Zayn and Louis slink back to their desks. “We’ve had a rather nasty murder over the weekend; I’m guessing a few of you must have seen it?” There’s a murmur of agreement. “Her name was Evangeline Carter, fifty-two years old from Walton-on-the-Naze in Essex. Not a pleasant death by any stretch of the imagination.” He pauses for a second, eyes scanning across the room. “She was poisoned while out with her family for a meal on Friday night. Hemlock.”
There’s a stunned silence in the room and Louis winces at the thought of it. Hemlock is one of the first Muggle poisons they taught him about at Hogwarts and the effects are incredibly undesirable, causing paralysis and then death in the victim while they’re completely helpless.
“As you probably all know the antidote for Hemlock is very specific and was of course not to hand,” Cowell continues. “Now, ordinarily we would see this as an individual case. It’s not been uncommon in the past for Muggles to use Hemlock because it’s undetectable in the stomach, but our coroner found it with the use of Venenum Egritudo. It’s a spell we need all of you to keep in mind over the next few months, okay, because this wasn’t an isolated incident.”
Louis tenses. Zayn’s eyes bulge across from him and the pair share a quick, pained look.
“Venenum Egritudo is a poison identifier,” Cowell says, holding out his wand. “Leigh-Anne, would you mind coming here for a moment?”
Leigh-Anne stands up and follows Cowell’s gestures so she’s stood beside him in the centre of the room. Cowell points his wand to her stomach and her eyes fly open, and she quickly takes a panicked step back.
“Nothing to worry about,” Cowell says quickly, pulling a sheepish face. “Here, come back.” Eyeing him sceptically she does, and then Cowell murmurs, “Venenum Egritudo,” and her stomach starts to glow a greeny-blue colour through her white shirt.
“Bloody hell,” Louis mutters at the same time as Zayn gasps, “that’s sick!”
“The recipient will glow this colour if there’s no poison in their system,” Cowell explains. “They’ll glow a sort of burnt orange colour if there is. Any questions?”
Louis shakes his head even though the question was directed at the whole room.
“Good,” Cowell says. “Thanks for that, Leigh-Anne. Sorry for scaring you like that.”
She waves her hand as she sits back down. Cowell clears his throat again.
“This morning, another witch was found killed. She had also been poisoned, but not by hemlock.” Louis pulls a face. “This was Nafeesa Bhamra, thirty-six from Chorley in Lancashire. Now, I know the incidents are nowhere near each other geographically and the poisons used were different, but they occurred very close together and both occurred to Witches, so for now we are treating them as related.” Louis nods, glancing over to Zayn, but he remains stoic as he listens on. “If there’s another killing like this in the next seven days, we will treat them as formally related and as a threat, and action will be taken as such.”
“Shit,” Louis says to nobody in particular.
“Shit indeed, Mr. Tomlinson,” Cowell says. Louis flushes. “But in all seriousness, we need our Aurors alert, you understand?” There’s another collective murmur around the office. “Excellent. There’s a folder on each of your desks briefing each of you with what we know so far, so take a look, familiarise yourself, and if you have any ideas or if anything leaps out at you don’t hesitate to tell a senior Auror, okay? Until then, on with the rest of your assignments please.” Everyone nods and then he disappears into his private office at the back with a sweep of his cape.
“Blimey,” Louis says, turning to Zayn and grimacing. “That’s all pretty nasty, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me,” Zayn replies, letting out a sigh. “I wonder what made those two the targets. If it’s the same person, that is.”
“I don’t get it either,” Louis says. “Strange though, and bloody horrible. I can only imagine what those two families are going through.”
“I know,” Zayn agrees, chewing on the end of his quill rather unattractively. “I hope they’re just flukes.”
Louis nods as he reaches for the folder, opening it and picking up the parchment on the front. Pinned to it is a moving photo of a middle-aged women, smiling sadly up at him, and it makes Louis’s heart hurt a little. “I think I recognise her, you know,” he says to Zayn. “I don’t think I ever met her, like, properly, but I think I saw her at one of Harry’s mum’s big garden dos.” He slumps back in his chair. “Oh bless her.”
Zayn frowns. “Oh, shit. I didn’t realise Harry knew her.”
“Yeah, he worked himself up a bit this morning when he saw the Prophet,” Louis explains. “Bless him as well, he’s a soppy git at the best of times.”
“Harry’s mum’s closer to the other victim, like, geographically,” Zayn says, examining his own folder. “She’s only the county over. Do you recognise her?”
Louis flicks up the first sheet of parchment to look at the second, with a similar photo but this time the woman is a little younger and Louis doesn’t know her, but the sad smile is the same. “No,” he says, tearing his eyes away from her because he can’t bear the thought of it, “though she was a bit younger, wasn’t she? I seem to remember Harry saying something about his Mum and Evangeline being in the same year at Hogwarts.”
“Oh fair enough,” Zayn shrugs. “Just wondered.” His eyes flick down the page and go wide when he reads what’s written at the bottom. “Holy shit, Lou, look what killed the poor woman.”
Louis scans down the page himself, then gasps. “What the fuck, arsenic?” He shakes his head again and gnaws on this bottom lip nervously. “This is some creepy Agatha Christie bullshit right here.”
“Who’s Agatha Christie?”
“Um, she writes Muggle books,” Louis says, waving him off quickly. “Doesn’t matter, anyway, that’s some… that’s some scary shit, man.”
“Definitely,” Zayn agrees. “Man, it really does sound like there might be a connection, doesn’t there?”
“I mean, quite possibly,” Louis says. “Like, these aren’t easy things to procure, I doubt you can just buy arsenic in the shops or whatever. Whoever did this knows what they’re doing.”
“True,” Zayn says with a nod.
“Would be a sick as fuck case to investigate though,” Louis says without really thinking.
“Louis!”
“What? It would,” Louis says. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. Like, it would be sick but obviously I’m not going to wish people dead for it.”
“Good,” Zayn says. He points his quill at him. “Now get to work, chop chop. Don’t let yourself think about what you might do and do what you should do.”
“You’re too fastidious for your own good,” Louis tells him, but he picks up his quill like he’s told. “I need a second to process what I’ve just read.”
“Well, then take a second and then do this,” Zayn says, tapping his own quill against the huge stack of parchment on Louis’s desk. “Honest to Merlin, it’s like working next to a child.”
Louis just sticks out his tongue at him, then reluctantly gets to work.
The atmosphere in the office is a little tense all day, people still obviously caught up with the news. He tries not to think about it too much and instead works through the day, then once it gets to half five he files what he’s done so far and then trots off to the Floo network, eager to get home to Harry and a nice, home-cooked dinner.
“Honey, I’m home!” he calls as he tumbles out of the fireplace and nearly trips straight over Hermione as she scampers past. He swears loudly after her then chucks his briefcase towards the sofa before going in search of Harry.
“Haz?” he tries again, but he gets nothing. Furrowing his brows, he shrugs off his coat and goes to hang it up in their hallway when he spots a familiar head of curls through the little window in their cottage front door. He pads down the hall and opens the door, which makes Harry jump and drop the cigarette he was smoking into a puddle on the ground.
“Lou,” he breathes out, looking ashamed and tired. He takes a step forward and Louis meets him halfway, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle and squeezing. Louis feels his nose bury itself in his hair and he clings on, a hand running up and down Harry’s back.
“Baby, are you okay?” he asks tentatively. He pulls back and slides his hands up to Harry’s face, cupping his cheeks and pressing the lightest of kisses onto his mouth. “You know you shouldn’t smoke, love, your asthma.”
“I know,” Harry sighs, shaking Louis’s hands off him. “I just needed one, it’s been… it’s been a not-nice day, let’s put it that way.”
“What happened?” Louis says, wrapping his hand around Harry’s wrist and coaxing him back towards the house. He pauses a second and waits until they’re back in the warmth of their home, sat on the sofa together with their legs tangled before he presses Harry again. “Harry?”
“It shouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I fucked up, Lou,” Harry mumbles. Louis squeezes his hand. He sighs, resting his head against Louis’s shoulder. “You remember Evangeline Carter?”
Louis grimaces. “Yes, I know the name. The lady who died this weekend?”
Harry nods. “Yeah, her. Well, I got an Owl back from Mum and apparently the circumstances surrounding her death were horrible. Like they were in this fucking pub and she just convulsed; she couldn’t stop, apparently, it was like she was having some sort of fit and she… she…” He doesn’t continue, just takes several deep, painful-sounding breaths before his whole body slumps against Louis’s in something like defeat.
Louis turns his face into Harry’s soft hair, lips brushing gently over the top of his ear. “I know, darling, I know. It was brought up at work today.”
“Why would anyone want to do that, Louis?” Harry croaks, too loud for their little cottage. “What did she do? She wasn’t a hurtful person, she was someone’s bloody mother and wife and daughter!”
“I know, my love, I know,” Louis murmurs gently, pulling Harry’s rigid form closer into his body. “I’m so sorry.”
Harry’s not quite crying but he’s trembling, forehead pressed hard against Louis’s shoulder. It feels like he’s trying not to cry so Louis runs a hand up and down his stiff back, biting his lip as Harry hiccups and squeezes his knee.
“And then, fucking icing on the cake,” Harry continues in a tired voice, “David Carter was admitted to the hospital this morning.”
“David Carter?” Louis questions.
“Evangeline’s husband. Widower,” Harry corrects sadly. “He tried to kill himself over the weekend – took a fuck load of Muggle tablets called paracetamol and tried to go to sleep.”
“I know what paracetamol does, darling,” Louis says gently. Sometimes Harry seems to forget that he was raised Muggle. “That’s awful.”
“I know,” Harry says miserably, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. “And they have kids who are our age, Louis! I couldn’t not save him, of course I couldn’t, but he tried to kill himself. Someone killed his wife and in the process they tried to kill him too! I just can’t…”
“Baby,” Louis croaks, cradling Harry’s head to his chest. “That’s… that’s horrible, I don’t… we weren’t told this today.”
“You see though?” Harry weeps. “People are in danger! And I just panicked today, it was horrible, they told me to do things and I just stood there like a fucking spare part because he wanted to die, Louis, he tried to end it because his wife had died and I didn’t know how to react at all!”
“Sweetheart,” Louis soothes, trying desperately to think of what to say because Harry’s working himself up again. “I need you to breathe, okay, you’re... fuck, Harry, you’re having a panic attack, aren’t you?”
Harry wheezes and grips at Louis tighter, and Louis awkwardly holds him and tries to calm him down. Harry doesn’t have panic attacks often, but when he does they tend to be triggered by something that really hits him hard. Louis remembers holding him through bouts of panic in the library before his exams back at Hogwarts, and he’ll be damned if he can’t do the same for him now.
“Harry?”
Harry hiccups, eyes wide, and Louis starts kissing his head all over, whatever bit of him he can reach. “Harry, listen to me. You’re only a person and you work a tough job. You can’t be perfect at it all the time, babe. It was one time and it’s going to be okay. You can’t put all this on you so I just need you to breathe and listen to my voice, breathe…”
“It doesn’t… feel okay,” Harry hiccups again, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that Louis can feel it through his shirt. “It feels wrong, Lou, really wrong, something’s just wrong…” He lets out a shuddery breath and looks up at his boyfriend with damp eyes. “I want my mum.”
Louis nods slowly, lacing both their hands together and pressing a lingering kiss into his forehead. “Yeah, sure, little love, we’ll Floo there now if you want.” Harry nods and sniffs, then shakes his head weakly. Louis pulls his hands out of Harry’s and reaches for the hair tie wrapped around his wrist, then bundles Harry’s hair into a loose bun on the back of his head. “I don’t… baby, I need to understand why you’re so upset before I can help, you know that, right?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Harry wails helplessly, reaching back for Louis’s hand. “I just don’t like it; I started crying at work today as well and Perrie had to sit with me until I calmed down and now I’m just… I’m just…”
“Let’s get you to your mum,” Louis says, helping Harry up on shaky legs and keeping himself pressed close to his side as they hobble towards the fireplace. “You go first and I’ll just make sure the cat has food and stuff and I’ll be there in a second, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry snuffles. “Okay, I… I’m going now.”
Perplexed and rather worried, Louis watches as Harry disappears in a puff of green off towards his mum’s house up in Cheshire, and he finds himself hoping desperately that either Anne or Robin or Gemma is home. He doesn’t want to leave his boy for long regardless, so he dashes up the stairs and changes out of his work clothes quickly, throwing on a pair of skinnies and one of Harry’s t-shirts before he runs a toothbrush around his mouth and then does his hair again. He tops up Hermione’s food and water, makes sure the front and back doors are locked, then grabs a handful of Floo powder and his wand and disappears into the fireplace with a shout of “Eight The Redferns, Holmes Chapel!”
The whirring sensation of travel shoots through him, and for a few seconds everything is green and everything is noise, before his feet hit the concrete ground of the Cox’s fireplace hard. He stumbles forward, coughing a little as he wipes the jade-coloured haze from his eyes, and steps out into the familiar setting of his boyfriend’s family home. He blinks a few times, just to get his balance and bearings, then he surveys the scene and feels his heart break a little.
Harry’s stood not far away, wrapped in a tight embrace by his mother, and Louis scrubs a hand over his face before, “oh Hazza,” slips out of his mouth and he moves forward to place what he hopes will be a comforting hand on the small of Harry’s back.
“Lou,” Harry chokes out, pulling out of his mother’s arms and flopping himself into Louis’s. “Louis, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t understand…”
Louis just holds him, steadying them both and hooking his chin over his shoulder. Anne catches his eye, looking quite distressed herself, and she shrugs her shoulders questioningly. Louis tries his best to shrug back with thirteen stone of boy in his arms and Anne sighs, running a hand through the front of her hair.
“Baby,” Louis mutters, turning his full attention back to Harry and pressing a long kiss into his cheek. “I need you to calm down, okay?” He pulls back ever so slightly and rests his hand in the middle of Harry’s chest. He takes a deep breath himself and urges Harry to follow. It takes a few goes but eventually he does, the rise and fall of his chest going from erratic to regular after a couple of minutes. Once it’s back to normal Louis takes a step back but gathers both of Harry’s hands in both of his, swinging them gently. “Alright?”
Harry hiccups but nods. “Better,” he rasps. “A bit better, yeah.”
“Okay,” Louis says, stroking a thumb over his knuckles gently. “Okay, good.” He smiles up at him, forgetting that Anne’s even in the room for a second. “You gave me quite a scare there, little love.”
“I don’t know what just happened,” Harry says forlornly, looking at Louis with his big green eyes. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you… about you dying, Lou, I don’t…”
“Why would you let yourself think that, Harry?” Louis asks him. “I’m just an Auror, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be on the investigation team or anything. It just means I might be needed to do the paperwork for the case or something. It’s not… nothing’s going to happen, I promise. You don’t need to scare yourself.”
“No, but Louis,” Harry says and he sounds desperate. “Something’s really not right about this case. Something is going to go wrong.”
“How do you know that, darling?” Louis questions. He’s never felt more confused in his life. “You can’t be sure of this, Harry, and I don’t understand…”
“No, neither do I, but you need to listen to me,” Harry snaps. Louis shuts up. “Just… I have a really bad feeling about this, okay, and it’s a horrible feeling and I don’t understand it but you need to be careful, you understand?”
“Of course,” Louis says dumbly, squeezing Harry’s hands in his. “Of course I’ll be careful, but I still don’t understand.”
“Look, we’ve said this a hundred times, neither of us understand but I just need you to know I have a feeling something really bad is going to happen and it’s going to happen soon so let’s… just, let me say that and let’s move on? Please?” Harry says, and it almost sounds like he might cry again. “I’m sorry, I just…”
“Hey,” Louis murmurs, taking a step closer to him again and opening his arms, “okay. I promise. I’ll do anything for you, yeah?”
There’s a pause and then, “yeah,” Harry mumbles into his hair. “Yeah, I know. Thank you, Louis.”
“Anything for you,” Louis repeats, smiling into Harry’s shoulder. It’s only then he remembers Anne is in the room, watching their exchange with a mix of curious and fond on her face, so he pulls back and smooths his t-shirt out before he takes Harry’s hand again. “Godric, sorry about that, Anne.”
“No, thank you,” Anne says, resting her hand on Harry’s shoulder who pulls her in for a one-armed hug and presses a kiss into her cheek. “You always calm him down better than I know how.”
“I don’t know what came over me,” Harry mumbles. “I just needed my mum and I needed my boyfriend and it’s just weird. That’s all I know how to describe it as.”
“Whatever it is, you’re clearly feeling like that for a reason,” Anne says matter-of-factly, and Louis nods his agreement.
“I’ve not seen you like that in ages,” he says, squeezing Harry’s hand again. “So whatever just happened has to mean something, yeah, so I’ll be extra careful, I swear. Constant vigilance.”
“Constant vigilance,” Harry repeats, smiling at him gratefully. “I, um, I’m glad you believe me.”
“Of course I do,” Louis says, trying not to sound affronted or taken aback. “Darling, you never get that worked up over nothing, do you? You’re a Healer, for crying out loud, you’re quite good in a crisis.”
“I was rubbish today,” Harry mumbles. “Had to hide in the bloody medical supplies room while they brought this poor man back to life. I just… I felt sick…”
“You’re only human,” Louis says again, brushing Harry’s knuckles across his lips. “You don’t have an easy job, babe. You can’t be expected to be composed in every case.”
“I should be though,” Harry says miserably, “that’s my job. I’ve had the training and everything.”
“Still though,” Anne cuts in, “that case clearly hit you hard and you shouldn’t have to work on it if it triggers a panic attack. Were you okay to leave?”
Harry nods forlornly. “Yeah, yeah. Madam Cole ushered me out and she said she and Perrie would handle it. It was fine.” He pauses. “I mean, it wasn’t fine, but you know.”
“Oh, love,” Anne says, pulling him back into a proper hug. Louis drops Harry’s hand and steps back awkwardly. “Well, we’ll all keep our eyes open, yeah? If something’s made you react like that, well then, I’m on the lookout.”
“Me too,” Louis assures from behind them. “I love you, Harry, I need you to be happy and safe, yeah?”
Anne coos a little as Harry smiles at long last and turns back to Louis, leaving her hold to return to his and pressing a quick, sweet kiss into his mouth.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Louis looks up at him and grins, chasing his lips for another kiss. “I was worried you would think it was an overreaction.”
Louis does think it was a little bit of an overreaction, but he’d sooner cut out his own tongue than say it out loud. “As your mum said,” he says, biting down his doubt, “if it made you react like that then it’s important, alright?”
“Thanks,” Harry says again. Louis squeezes him around the middle. Anne leans forward and pulls them both in for a hug.
“Oh, my boys,” she coos, kissing them each on the cheek. “I hate to see you so upset like this. Both of you.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Harry says, sounding a little pitiful, but Anne shushes him.
“But I’m always glad you can come to me,” she tells him, then looks at Louis. “You too, darling. You’re my son too.”
“Love you, Anne,” Louis smiles as he turns to kiss her back on the cheek. “Really appreciate all of this.”
Anne pulls back, brushing down her tunic and then reaching back to tie her long hair into a loose ponytail. “I’m glad you’re both here,” she says with a smile. “Can I interest you in some supper?”
“Ooh please,” Harry says, his face lighting up. “I mean, if that’s okay with both of you.”
Louis grins. “Of course, that would be lovely! If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
“Nonsense,” Anne waves them aside. “You two are always welcome here. And it’ll be nice to have the company since Robin’s working late.”
“Well, thank you,” Louis grins, tucking himself into Harry’s side and resting a hand on his sternum. “Can we do anything to help?”
“Not at the moment, but I’ll have you make a salad when the time comes, I think,” Anne grins. “Until then, you boys can just keep me company in the kitchen.” She shoots them a knowing look. “But that’s preferably after the snog that I know my son is dying to give you, Louis.”
Louis feels Harry squeak before he hears it and he laughs, turning his face into Harry’s chest and squeezing him playfully. “Sure thing, Anne. See you in a second!”
Anne tuts at them playfully as she disappears into the kitchen and Louis sighs happily before he turns up to look at his boyfriend, who puckers his lips at him with a playful shrug. Louis puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to think about it, laughing as Harry lets out an indignant moan.
“Kiss me,” he demands, so Louis hums and pretends to think about it some more.
“What’s in it for me?”
“My eternal love and devotion,” Harry deadpans. “Come on, Lou, I need a kiss!”
“C’mere then,” Louis says exasperatedly, and slides his hands into Harry’s hair as he kisses the life out of him. Their teeth clack together and there’s a lot more tongue than there probably should be in his mother-in-law’s living room, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.
“That was nice,” he drawls as they eventually pulls away, dramatically wiping his mouth on his forearm. “Slobbery, but nice.”
“I’m always nice,” Harry says. He takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss Louis again, a lot slower and softer this time. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Louis says, his own smile mirroring Harry’s fond grin, but he knows it’s not just for the kiss. “Love you a lot, don’t I?”
“I’m glad you do,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Louis’s shoulders and staring down at him carefully. “I… I am proud of you, you know. And I don’t want you to think that I hate you doing the job you do because I don’t… I’ve never thought about you being in danger until today and I…”
“Woah, wait,” Louis says, cutting him off and pressing his hand to Harry’s chest. “You thought I was in danger? What the hell made you think that?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Harry says. He looks a bit dazed and hesitant, so Louis moves his hand down and rests it on his hip, thumbing over the bone there. “I just, I know I need you safe. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“Harry…”
“I don’t care if right now you think I’m being a bit silly but…” Harry glares down at him, almost, and it makes Louis feel small and a little nervous, “fucking promise me right now you’ll be safe. If you get chosen for this team you’ll be safe, won’t you?” His hand covers Louis’s and squeezes. “Promise me, Louis.”
“I mean, I won’t get chosen but yeah, I promise,” Louis says. His brows are furrowed and he frowns, unsure of how to react to this. Harry’s never been this serious about anything like this before. “What’s gotten into you, little love?”
“I don’t understand either, I just know…”
“So you keep saying, but I want to know too,” Louis says, trying to sound gentle and not as confused and exasperated as he feels. “But yeah, I’ll be careful. I’m always careful anyway.”
“That’s a filthy lie,” Harry says, but he kisses him again and the animosity seems to fade somewhat. “I just want you to be safe.”
“I’m safe,” Louis says, squeezing his hip. “I have a great team and a great boyfriend who both play their part in keeping me safe, yeah?”
“Yeah, okay,” Harry nods, sounding a little more reassured. “Okay, good, we can go back to normal now.”
“Didn’t realise we weren’t being normal,” Louis teases. “You panicking about something is a regular occurrence, love.”
Harry sticks his tongue out at him, and Louis bounces up on tiptoes to bite at it, and that’s that.
(Louis decides not to mention the other death, or the fact that he feels like he’s forcing himself to be normal for the rest of the evening, or even the fact that Harry won’t stop looking at him like he’s got something terminal. It’s just a blip in the day, he reasons with himself. Harry’ll probably have gotten over the panic by tomorrow. He desperately hopes so anyway.)
Anne cooks them a hearty meal of lasagne with potato wedges and salad, and talking about a range of things from Louis’s job to his sisters to where the couple are thinking of going on holiday.
“I’d love to do somewhere like Cairo or Marrakech,” Harry says as he wipes his hands on his napkin. “They just look so beautiful.”
“They do,” Louis agrees, helping himself to another scoopful of wedges. “We could do that, couldn’t we, Haz? Get a couple of weeks off in, like, September and go for a fortnight?”
“I’d really like that,” Harry says eagerly, beaming and looking completely endearing despite the fact he has béchamel sauce smeared on his chin. “Can we book it at a Muggle travel agent again?”
Louis groans but he’s grinning. “Ah yes, because last time we went on a Muggle holiday it was so successful.”
“I managed to make everyone forget, didn’t I?” Harry pouts, bottom lip jutting out as Anne cackles and slams her hand on the table. “And that lady’s hair grew back eventually. It was an accident.”
“So you keep telling me,” Louis says, rolling his eyes fondly. “But no, I think we’ll book it through a Wizarding company this time. Just to be on the safe side.”
“You’re no fun,” Harry scowls. “You set someone on fire one time…”
“That’s more than enough times for me to want to avoid it happening again,” Louis tells him. “And anyway, little love, you know how rubbish you are with sorting out Muggle money. It’s probably for the best that we stick to Abbotts & Co.”
“Fine,” Harry says petulantly, standing up and dropping his napkin on his empty seat. “But I won’t enjoy it nearly as much.”
“You’ll bloody well enjoy it if we’re paying to go all the way to Egypt,” Louis calls after him as he disappears into the hallway and towards the bathroom. He looks back to Anne and they share a laugh. “Bless him.”
“Bless him indeed,” Anne says. She takes a swig of wine as Louis plucks up a wedge and bites it in half. “You know,” she starts conversationally and completely out of the blue, “Egypt would be a lovely place to honeymoon.”
Louis tries to say “what” at the same time as he tries to swallow his bite of potato wedge and ends up choking so hard that Anne has to thump him on the back. It takes him a good few moments of coughing and spluttering to regain his composure. He grabs for his water and takes several grateful glugs as Anne keeps rubbing at his back, tutting like she’s sorry.
“You, er, you caught me a bit by surprise there,” he manages to croak eventually. He gulps down more of the water before he carries on. “Um… w-what’s this about a-a honeymoon?”
“It was only a suggestion, I didn’t mean to make you almost cough your lungs up,” Anne says with a sheepish smile. “It’s just, you and Harry have been together for nearly seven years now, and my boy will never ever stop loving you, I know that much.”
“I’m not ever going to stop loving him either,” Louis rasps. “We’re definitely a done deal, him and me.”
“I know, and I’m so grateful that he has you because you’re such a wonderful pair,” Anne says. She sits back in her chair then reaches across the table and takes his hand. “I just think if you don’t do it, Harry never will. You know what he’s like – he wants to be romanced and he wants you to be the one to do it, basically.” She beams at him, pride and happiness in her smile. “So will you think about it? If you’re as permanent as you say you are, will you at least give it some thought?”
“I… of course,” Louis nods. “I mean, yeah, yeah, that’s, um, marriage, of course, yeah, I see, that’s… hi baby!”
Harry stops in his tracks as he re-enters the room, eyeing them both suspiciously from the doorway. “Hiiiii,” he drawls out after a second. “Is, um, are you both okay?”
“We’re both wonderful,” Louis squeaks. “I had a bit of an incident with a potato wedge but I’m fine now, isn’t that great? I’m so good, I’m…” He cuts himself off when he realises he’s somewhat rambling and lets out a long, soft sigh instead because Godric, he loves Harry with every fibre of his being and his heart is thumping to the beat of husband husband husband. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Harry says, but it’s clear he doesn’t quite believe him. “Um, can I sit back down or are you two having some kind of private conversation about my little episode back there or something?”
“Of course we aren’t,” Anne squawks, swatting at her son’s arm. “As if we would. Come sit down and eat the rest of your lasagne.”
Harry sits, but Louis can tell he’s still dubious of whatever conversation went on while he was in the loo. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a few moments, in which Anne starts clearing up some of the empty dishes. “We weren’t talking about you, I promise.”
Harry stabs at his pasta somewhat violently. “I don’t believe you,” he mutters. “You both looked terrified when you heard me coming back.”
“Harry, I nearly just choked to death on a potato wedge,” Louis explains, hoping he sounds sincere. It’s only half a lie anyway. “Your mum had to whack me on the back a bit and then I had a lot of water and then she was just making sure I was okay, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry says slowly, but he’s still not quite meeting Louis’s eyes. “If you say so.”
“Harry, I swear,” Louis says, trying to make his eyes go all big and earnest. “I wouldn’t talk about you like that, you know I wouldn’t.”
“I said okay,” Harry says, and then he forces a smile. “It’s fine, Lou, I believe you.”
Louis slumps back in his chair. “Okay then,” he says, picking at a potato wedge before he tosses it back onto his plate. They sit in silence for an awkward second or two before Louis hops to his feet and trots across to the other side of the table and takes Harry’s face in his hands. “Hey,” he murmurs, then says it again as Harry’s eyes drop down. “Hey!”
“What?” Harry grumbles. “I said I believe you.”
“Well, that’s clearly some bullshit because you’ve got your pout on,” Louis says, eyebrows raised. “Look me in the eye, Styles. Harry.”
Harry looks up and Louis pulls a face at him, crossing his eyes and tugging his lips up into a smile. It only takes a couple of seconds for Harry to start giggling, and only a few more moments for them to be kissing each other, laughing into each other’s mouths. Harry brackets Louis in, his long legs trapping him in place and Louis’s hands stay firm on Harry’s cheeks as their lips move together, gentle and firm.
Anne ends up breaking them apart, clearing her throat before she points sternly to their empty plates. They untangle themselves reluctantly and help her clear the table, then after one final cup of warm tea and a few slices of Battenberg, they decide to make a move.
Harry hugs his mum for a long time, then steps back to let Louis slide into his place. “Think about it,” is all she murmurs in his ear and he nods tightly, before stepping back and following Harry down the fireplace.
Back in their own house, Louis closes their fireplace off with a wave of his wand and then goes up to where Harry’s stood at their fridge, pulling out the milk. The kettle is already boiling on the stove, bless his heart, and the candles that usually light up the room are all lit and burning a mellow, soft orange. “Babe,” he murmurs, kissing his shoulders one at a time. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Harry says, setting the milk on the counter and turning to face him. “I… thank you for being there today. I mean, I’m still not sure what even happened but I’m glad I had you there, I know that much.”
“Always,” Louis assures, brushing some cat hair off the front of Harry’s top. “I don’t get it either, but I guess we’ll see what happens as time goes on, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, hands going up to gather his hair and secure it out of his face again. “You… you do believe me, don’t you? And you will be careful?”
“Yes, I’ll be careful,” Louis says with a nod. “I will, I promise.”
“Okay, good,” Harry says. “I just love you a lot, and I want to keep you around for a long time. Probably forever.”
“Probably forever,” Louis echoes, hand going to his empty ring finger and playing with the skin there. “Yeah, me too. Wanna keep you forever too.”
Harry positively beams, pressing a quick hard kiss against Louis’s lips before he bustles about and makes the tea. Louis goes over to the sofa and snaps the telly on with the remote control, settling on a late night comedy repeat on Dave until Harry comes over with the two steaming mugs and places them on the coffee table. He slots himself onto the sofa behind Louis and tugs him into the gap between his legs, then easily plucks the remote into his own hand and changes it to a recorded episode of Barefoot Contessa.
“You’re obsessed,” Louis tuts, but settles back against his boyfriend’s chest and hums happily as Harry noses at the nape of his neck. Ina’s cooking a chicken for Jeffrey as she does every Friday, and he can practically hear Harry purring at the domesticity he’s witnessing on screen.
“It’s a delicious treat for the one you love most, don’t you think?” Ina chortles on the screen, and Louis thinks yes, it is. And Harry’s the one he loves most, without a doubt, and they are pretty much set for life. They’ve got a house and a cat together, a joint bank account down at Gringotts, and Louis can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone who isn’t Harry.
He twists his head back to look at Harry, his soft smile glowing in the candlelight of their cosy, wonderful little home, and Louis thinks that pressed here in the warmth of the fire and the telly and tea and home, that there’s nothing and nobody he wants more than this life with this boy.
So maybe, just maybe, it is time to make Harry his husband.
*
Louis asks Zayn the next day over their cafeteria lunch.
"Hey, so…" He pauses, heat prickling up the back of his neck as Zayn stops eating to give him a curious look. "Um, so, like…"
Zayn sighs. “What do you want? Who do I have to hex for you?”
"Nobody," Louis splutters. "No, I…" He pauses and then blurts, "do you think I should propose to Harry?"
Zayn shoots him another look. Louis flushes deeper.
"What?"
"What kind of a question is that?" Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes into his toastie. "I’m surprised you haven’t already, if we’re being honest."
"Really?" Louis says, surprised. "I mean, I… do you not think we’re too young for marriage?"
"Can you see yourself marrying anyone else? Really?" Zayn says, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been essentially married to the kid since you were seventeen."
"He’s not a kid anymore," Louis says indignantly. "And anyway, no, we haven’t. I only started thinking about it yesterday."
"I refuse to believe that you and Harry have never discussed marriage," Zayn says flatly. Louis shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "Wait, really?"
Louis shakes his head again. “I mean, like, we’ve talked about that we’re, like, each other’s firsts and how we don’t want to be with anyone else and stuff but, like, not that level of permanent.” The heat prickles back up his neck again. “Do you think he really wants it?”
"Mate," Zayn says, staring him dead in the eye. "That is the stupidest question you’ve asked in all our years of friendship."
"Really?" Louis repeats. He chews his thumbnail, ripping at it until it hangs limply and there’s blood around the edges. "So I should ask him then? You don’t think he’ll say no?"
"He’ll probably say yes before the words are even fully out your gob," Zayn snorts. He stabs his fork into his bowl of salad. "Honestly, Lou, he’s absolutely irreparably in love with your sorry arse and he’d say yes in a heartbeat, swear on my life."
"He’s not…" Louis starts nervously as he tears at a napkin. "Have you talked about it ever with him?"
"Once, but we’d had a bit of fire whiskey," Zayn admits. "And I made a comment about being your best man or I’d have to have you Cursed, and instead of defending you the poor lad just got all wistful and starting sighing a lot. So I asked him, and he promised me not to tell you, mind, but he said he wished you’d hurry up and just ask him."
"Really?" Louis squeaks. He feels a bit light-headed. "When the hell was this?"
"Like, eight months ago?" Zayn muses. Louis pales. "Oh, Lou."
"I love him," Louis manages to croak after a few seconds. "I love him and I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna ask him." Zayn smiles softly, reaching out his hand to cover Louis’s where he gives his fingers a little squeeze. "Will you come ring shopping with me?"
Zayn groans. “Must I?” Louis pouts indignantly. “Fine, fine. But only if you buy me a pint after.”
"Deal," Louis agrees happily.
"I’m gonna need it if I have to put up with my two best mates talking about flowers and swatches and the amazing missionary sex they had last night," Zayn grumbles. Louis squawks into his bacon. "Honestly, this is why I’m surprised you’re not actually married on paper yet, you’ve been figuratively married for bloody years."
"We do not just have missionary sex, excuse you," Louis balks. "And you know I don’t give two shits about flowers."
"You’ll give a shit because Harry gives a shit," Zayn points out. "And I bet Harry makes love to you more than he fucks you these days, I bet."
"Oh, shut your face," Louis snaps. "We still fuck."
"When did you last have sex?" Zayn demands.
"Sex sex or sex stuff?"
"Actual sex."
"Two nights ago," Louis tells him.
"And what led up to the sex?" Zayn questions, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Harry made a Sunday roast," Louis recalls, "Lamb, it was, absolutely delicious. He does this potato bake thing with carrots and mint and thyme and stuff, it’s absolutely divine.”
“Listen to yourself,” Zayn snorts. Louis flips him off and continues.
“And we were watching Nigella - it’s a Muggle cooking show Harry’s obsessed with - and then we started kissing and then we had sex."
"Missionary?" Zayn probes. Louis flushes, ignoring him in favour of peeling the crusts off his second sandwich. "I fucking knew it! Bet he carried you to the bed like a proper gentleman and all."
"Listen, that was a bad example," Louis snaps. "We do still have lots of rough and dirty sex, thank you Malik."
"You’re so fucking married, mate," Zayn grins. "And when you do actually get married you’ll literally have love made to you every night. Every night, Lou."
"Shut up," Louis says, swiping the last bite of his toastie. "We do not just make love."
(He doesn’t mention that he can’t actually remember the last time they actually got rough with each other, can’t even remember the last time they didn’t fuck face to face unless you count their slow, lazy morning fucks where one would fuck the other on their belly to avoid morning breath. Come to think of it, it’s been months since they’ve done anything new - the craziest thing they ever really do sex-wise is sometimes fuck on the sofa. He vows to change this immediately, tonight even. He’ll work on his proposal later.)
"Whatever you say, Louis," Zayn hums, clearly still disbelieving but thankfully letting it go. "Whatever you say."
*
When Louis gets home from work that day, he finds his boyfriend naked save for boxers, a pair of mustard-coloured socks and an apron that reads Kiss the cook or get out my kitchen across the chest. He’s got flour in his hair and dusted across his face, and the kitchen smells like sugar, cooking fruit and pastry.
“Lou!” he chirps happily as Louis clambers out their fireplace. “Lou, I’m finally making that pie!”
If this was any other day, Louis would sidle up to him, wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder blades, eat the bloody pie and then probably have sex with Harry in the missionary position. But today is not like any other day. Today he’s going to fuck Harry until he’s seeing stars and tomorrow he’s going to think about getting him a ring and proposing to him in the stupidest, sappiest way he can think of. Godric, he feels giddy with it already.
“Lou?” Harry says, brows knitted together questioningly and Louis realises he’s been stood there a good minute just staring and not saying anything. “Lou, are you okay?”
In lieu of an answer, Louis drops his bag to the floor, marches into their kitchen and kisses him.
He presses him hard against a cupboard, arms boxing him in as he presses their bodies together as close as he can get them from this angle. He’s shorter than Harry, which puts him at a slight disadvantage, but the fact that Harry wasn’t expecting it gives up a slight upper hand.
He moves one of his hands up to curl in Harry’s loose hair, keeping their mouths pressed together as he licks into his mouth. Harry moans into it, clearly not expecting it but lets Louis take the lead happily, his own hands clutching somewhat uselessly at Louis’s shoulders.
“Lou,” he says again breathlessly after they’ve pulled apart. “Lou, I…”
“Been thinking about you all day,” Louis cuts in, tugging at Harry’s hair and making him groan again. “Been thinking about bending you over, getting my fingers inside your pretty little arse and making you beg for it. God, Harry, I want you so much.”
“What?” Harry gulps, almost sounding confused. “Louis, I…”
Louis shuts him up, hands moving down to press him harder by the chest into the door. “You heard,” he says, teeth scraping at Harry’s jaw. “I want to fuck you, Harry. Can I fuck you, baby boy?”
“Louis,” Harry groans again, ducking back in for another filthy kiss in lieu of a response. Louis lets him have control for all of two seconds before he’s sliding his hand down to his hip, moving his hand past the fabric of the apron to the tie at the back. He pulls it loose and then pulls back, yanking the string over his head and tossing it to the floor before kissing him again, lips gliding over Harry’s, hot and slick. He presses him back against the wood of the cupboard then slides his palms up his chest, brushing a thumb over Harry’s nipple and making him gasp. Arms wind around his waist to keep him close and he sinks into them, wanting – needing – to be as close to Harry as he can make himself.
“You’re so hot,” Louis hisses, grabbing one of Harry’s wrists in each hand from behind his back and pinning them against the door. He knows manhandling will get Harry hot like nothing else and their kisses grow harsher, teeth clacking together as Louis presses himself on tiptoes to get closer, close enough to brush his denim-clad dick over Harry’s cotton-clad one. Harry moans again, eyes half-lidded with desire when they pull apart.
He feels Harry whimper through his trembling skin as he breaks away to kiss down his jaw again, sucking and nipping at the skin and leaving a faint trail of red in his wake as he moves down to his shoulders. Harry’s breath is coming out ragged now, hitching as Louis wraps his lips around Harry’s nipple, scraping his teeth over the bud until it’s full and hard in his mouth.
“Baby,” he says lowly, pulling off the nipple with an exaggerated slurp and staring up at him. “Baby, what do you want me to do to you?”
Harry simply whimpers in response, eyes wide and hair wild from where Louis’s been tugging on it. Louis raises his eyebrows, holding back a smirk because he loves this Harry and Godric, has he missed making him like this. It’s a testament to how long it’s been that Harry seems so submissive already, like he’s forgotten how to not render all control to Louis the second he gets a little bit more dominant like this. It was something they used to do a lot when they were first starting out and finding each other’s kinks, and Louis’s not quite sure why they ever stopped.
“Okay, then, I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” Louis says, pressing another kiss into the middle of Harry’s chest. “I want you to go and have a shower; make sure you’re lovely and clean for me, okay? Then I want you on our bed, on your hands and knees. No touching.”
“Yeah,” Harry says breathily, nodding fervently and arching his back as Louis latches onto his other nipple without warning. “Yeah, shit, yeah.”
“Ssssh, baby,” Louis soothes, but he can’t hide back the smirk this time. He straightens up and winds a strong arm around Harry’s middle so he’s no longer leaning against the wall. He slides his other hand up to Harry’s cheek and gently rubs at it to coax him down for what he hopes is a calming kiss. When they break apart, he pats him gently on the bum. “Off you go now, yeah?”
“The… the pie, Lou,” Harry says with a near-frantic shake of his head. “Need to… it’s gonna burn, I…”
“I’ll sort it, darling,” Louis promises, nipping at Harry’s jaw a little. “You just go and get yourself ready for me, okay?”
Harry looks a little forlorn still so Louis kisses him again, licking into his mouth and flicking their tongues together. He ignores Harry’s brief noise of protest and presses closer to him, until Harry eventually melts into the kiss and the pie is forgotten. They pull apart and Louis gently pushes him away, watching him nearly slip on the hardwood floors as he dashes towards the stairs. Once he’s out of sight, Louis waits for the familiar clang of the pipes before he starts clearing up the kitchen, taking the pans off the hob and covering them with their lids.
Once he’s pretty sure that Harry won’t bitch at him later for interfering in his kitchen and he’s heard the pipes clang again to signal the shower being turned off, he waits just a few more minutes before he heads upstairs. He’s deliberately slow with his movements, wants to keep the element of surprise to this, but he also needs a second to prepare for the sight that he knows is about to greet him.
And Godric, is it a sight.
Harry’s on the bed as instructed, his head resting on his cradled arms on their pillows. Louis can see how ragged his breathing is just from the way the smooth slope of his back is moving and he looks beautiful: arse up, legs spread and his tight hole on show.
“Look at you,” Louis says before he can stop himself, swallowing thickly. Harry cranes his head behind him, his own Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a deep breath of his own. Louis walks over to him slowly, running a cold hand down the plain of his back and onto his arsecheeks before he runs it back up and thumbs over some of the curls on the back of Harry’s neck. “Beautiful, baby boy, so so beautiful for me.”
“Lou,” Harry all but whimpers, his voice coming out strained already. Louis runs his hand back down him, shushing him ever so gently. He stops just above Harry’s crack, dipping his thumb inside it ever so slightly. “Lou.”
“It’s okay,” Louis says reassuringly. He bends down and starts to press gentle kisses into every knob of Harry’s spine, starting just above his hand and working his way up. His thumb dips back into the cleft of Harry’s arse, just skimming over the top and not actually applying any pressure. Harry’s skin is warm and still a little damp, and he’s flushed pink all over already. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs and he’s making these pretty little throaty sounds that make Louis want more than he already does.
He takes a break from the kissing to undress himself quickly, ignoring Harry’s whine as he steps away and pulls off his jumper and top in one go then takes his time taking off his shoes and socks. His jeans follow shortly, then his boxers and when he’s done he goes back over to the bed and kneels over Harry again, lips pressing into the back of his neck before he moves down his body again.
Harry’s breathing feels out of control and Louis smirks, darting his tongue out to lick up a bead of sweat that’s already trailing down Harry’s hot back. The atmosphere is thick and Louis wants nothing more than to wreck him, but that’s not going to happen if he keeps it this tame so he decides to take it up a notch.
He stops when he gets to his ribs then puts his hands on his hips and flips him onto his back. “I want you to suck me, darling,” he commands, sitting himself next to him and grabbing him by the hair to tug him in for a bruising kiss. He licks into Harry’s lax mouth, hands staying strong and tight to keep his head firm as he fucks his tongue in and out. “Do you wanna put me in your mouth, pretty baby?”
Harry nods hurriedly, groaning at the tug on his hair. Louis nods himself, letting Harry turn around and position himself onto all fours, arse next to Louis’s head, and then guides Harry’s head forward and down to where he wants it. He parts his lips obediently, one hand holding loosely at the base as he feeds it eagerly into his waiting mouth. He tightens his lips and goes straight to the base, dragging them up Louis’s half-hard length in one slick glide.
“Yes, baby,” Louis groans, unable to help is as the heat of Harry’s mouth takes him in. He slides down him again, lips tight as he gets Louis’s prick hard and messy with spit. Louis’s hand stays in his hair, guiding him and coaxing encouragements as he takes him deeper and deeper with every head movement. The other slides down his back again, cupping an arsecheeks and squeezing in gentle encouragement. Harry makes another little whine and takes Louis as deep as he can. His head knocks against the pillow and he digs his fingernails a little harsher into the flesh of Harry’s arse, which just seems to spur him on.
He lets his fingers run up and then back in between Harry’s arsecheeks, dry fingertips running over Harry’s tight hole. He presses his middle finger down a little harder and his own back arches in pleasure at the hum it pulls from Harry, wonderful sensation shooting up his dick. He does it again a little harder and Harry pushes his arse back as if he wants to take Louis’s fingers, but a quick, harsh slap to his bum cheek stops that immediately, keeping him focused on just sucking Louis’s cock like a good boy.
A whimper escapes him as Louis accidentally pulls him up too far and a trail of spit dribbles down his chin, which they both ignore. Louis guides him straight back down, keeping his head held down a little longer before he brings him back off again. Harry’s eager as anything, mouth wide and hands behind his back, happily letting his mouth be fucked. It’s only after a few more head bobs that Louis coaxes him off, now happily hard and ready to give something back to his boy.
Harry whines as he’s pulled off, his tongue dancing out to keep licking at Louis’s length. Louis allows him this for a little longer, letting Harry nose into his pubic hair and press open-mouthed kisses up his cock. It’s sloppy and hot and wonderful, and normally Louis would let himself sink into it and probably come after just a few more minutes of Harry’s wonderfully skilled mouth, but he has so many better plans for today.
“Off, baby,” he orders, tugging Harry’s head back up and smashing their mouths together. Harry comes willingly, a mess of spit on his chin and his eyes wide and dark. Harry kisses back hungrily, tongue sloppy as he lets Louis take the lead. They kiss for a few minutes while Harry’s breath slows down, then when Louis pulls back he presses a firm palm against Harry’s cheek and looks him straight in the eye. “Turn around for me, little one.”
Harry complies easily, crawling forward and straddling Louis clumsily. His thighs sit on top of Louis’s and once Louis’s sure he’s comfortable and not going to topple off the bed he pulls his arse a little higher, then spreads his cheeks with his thumbs. He dives straight in with his tongue, licking a long stripe up to his crack. Harry whines and knocks his forehead hard against Louis’s ankle but Louis pays no mind, spreading him even wider and licking over him messily.
He tastes like musk and clean sweat and soap, and Louis can’t get enough. He rests his nose on the small of Harry’s back and rubs his face inside Harry’s arse, getting the whole area slick with spit. Harry clenches around his tongue, little whines escaping him every time Louis’s tongue presses past the tight walls of his hole. Louis’s hands are firm on his bum, keeping him nice and spread, but when he lets out a particularly loud whine Louis brings his hand down on his cheek in a resounding smack which makes him whimper and then still.
“Don’t be greedy,” Louis commands. He waits a couple of seconds to make sure Harry doesn’t do it again then dives back in, lapping at his hole before pulling back again and then spits directly onto it (he has Harry’s arse in his face and a very hard cock between his legs, he doesn’t want to move to find the lube). He starts to press his ring finger in ever so slightly, just to the first knuckle, wanting to work Harry open slowly and teasingly, but not wanting to hurt him.
After a few more minutes of licking with just the tip of his finger inside Harry’s arse, he dares to press it in a little further down to the second knuckle. Harry moans, long and obscene, as Louis’s tongue goes back to lapping around the finger to make it press in as smoothly as possible.
Suddenly, a bottle of lube appears out of nowhere, dropping onto the top of Harry’s head and making him jolt in surprise. Louis jumps too, pushing his entire finger in to the hilt which in turn makes Harry whine in pained surprise. He pulls it out quickly and looks up, surprised and a little worried, to see Harry peering over his shoulder, a sheepish smile on his face despite the fact he’s also got tears in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he croaks, sounding overwhelmed and a bit befuddled himself. “Tried… Summoned the lube… it… I…”
“I know, baby, I know,” Louis reassures, pressing a lingering kiss into one of his bumcheeks. “Good boy, good thinking, baby.” Harry sniffs, and Louis pats his arse reassuringly. “Want me to eat you out some more? Lick your bum?”
“I… um…” Harry sniffs again, pressing his arse back into Louis’s face but Louis furrows his brows and gives it another smack, making Harry cry out and whimper loudly.
“I asked you a question,” Louis reminds him. “Words, baby.”
“I… inside?” Harry asks, a hopeful lilt in his tight voice. “F-fingers? P-please?”
Louis kisses his other arsecheek. “Good boy. You can have my fingers, darling, since you asked so nicely.” He hears Harry keen and he presses one more kiss over his hole before he reaches awkwardly past Harry for the lube, uncapping it and drizzling it over two of his fingers. He slowly presses his index finger in, sinking his teeth into Harry’s red arse as he does so and Harry all but sobs, forehead knocking against Louis’s toes as he pulls it back out again.
He takes his time fingering Harry open, working the second finger in once he’s sure he won’t hurt him. He tucks them in snugly and crooks them, seeking out Harry’s prostate. Once he finds it, he strokes over it and makes Harry’s entire body jolt with pleasure, smirking as Harry moans out his name in a broken cry.
“Louis, Louis,” he cries, rubbing his sweaty forehead on Louis’s foot. “Lou, please.”
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” Louis says. He brings his hand down one more time and Harry sobs, nodding fervently. “If you want my cock this badly then you’re going to have to do all the work, baby.”
“I will, I will,” Harry slurs, scrabbling to sit up and back on Louis’s thighs. Louis wraps an arm around his middle and helps position him up, his other hand gripping his cock so he can slide it easily into Harry’s puckered hole. Harry pushes himself up on shaky knees but sinks down easily enough, his own hand moving back to grip Louis’s cock so he can seat himself on it.
He sinks himself down slowly and Louis nearly loses it himself; Harry’s tight and slick around him and it’s fucking amazing. He shifts his hips a little and adjusts himself so he’s sitting comfortably against the pillows, loosening his grip on Harry’s waist a little so Harry can adjust to the stretch. Harry’s panting, skin hot and damp with sweat, and he clumsily tries to place his feet either side of Louis’s thighs so he can ride him properly. Louis guides him into place with a hand wrapped around an ankle and Harry turns his face into Louis’s hair and gives him a little kiss in thanks. Louis smiles and turns his head to capture his lips, pressing a few gentle kisses onto his mouth before he props himself up on his elbows and lays his legs down flat on the mattress.
“Ride me then, baby,” he encourages, fucking his hips up a couple of times to make Harry whine and jolt him into action. “C’mon, Harry, love, you wanted this.”
Harry does just that, lifting himself up and sinking back down, mouth dropping open as he shifts his hips just right for the blunt head of Louis’s cock to nudge his prostate. He hears him swallow thickly and just watches his clumsy, lanky, beautiful boyfriend ride his dick like he’s never wanted anything more in the world.
Harry alternates the pace for himself, swapping between a few moments of rapid fucking and then slow, lazy drags that make Louis’s head spin. He moans Louis’s name again, loud and open, and it’s enough to make Louis want to hold his hips and drive into him harder. Harry moans his name again louder, crying out as Louis’s fingernails dig into the soft meat of his hips, his chanting getting louder and more breathy as Louis keeps fucking him. He’s got tears pouring down his face as he starts to fist at his cock, still chanting Louis’s name like a prayer, when the realisation of a lifetime hits Louis harder than ever.
Harry’s his everything. Harry Styles is his absolute everything, the most beautiful thing in his life, and he’s riding Louis’s cock and letting himself be so vulnerable about it, so open and earnest with his love for Louis that the idea of him not having this every single day makes me feel almost ill. He loves Harry with everything he has, and Harry loves him back, and he’s going to marry the fuck out of this boy and keep him tucked close to his side forever. He’s going to love him like nobody else can, keep him from harm’s way and make love to him and do everything married couples do and he doesn’t want to wait another fucking second for it.
In hindsight, it’s probably not the greatest decision he’s ever made – proposing while completely balls deep in Harry while he cries and writhes on top of him, but never let it be said that Louis Tomlinson doesn’t know how to do things to the most dramatic potential.
“Will you marry me?” he blurts, stilling his hips and tightening his grip on Harry’s waist.
The reaction is not really what he was expecting.
Harry just comes, his entire body jerking with the force of it. It goes fucking everywhere, splashing up Harry’s torso and shoulders, and he’s never come like this before, not so hard and without any kind of warning. He’s a deadweight of top of Louis, his breathing ragged and his whole body trembling so Louis stills his hips, going completely still while still sheathed in Harry’s arse. He still hasn’t said anything and Louis kind of wants to throw up.
“H-Harry?” he croaks, almost too scared to press further. “Baby? Harry?”
A palm suddenly collides with his cheek and he jumps, fucking his hips up and making Harry whine. He tries to pull out of him, his own dick be damned, when suddenly there’s a sniff and then a sob, then Harry’s climbing off him and tackling him into the pillows, kissing all over his face before Louis can register what the fuck is going on.
“You arsehole,” Harry wails. He’s crying like Louis’s never seen him cry before and he tries to reach out to cup his face in some weak attempt at comfort but Harry doesn’t let him, pulling back and glaring at him as the tears pour down his cheeks. “I cannot believe you asked me that during sex, Louis!”
Louis tenses up. “I… Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Harry sniffs again and then he’s laughing, face snotty and beautiful as he tips his head back and cackles, shaking his head from side to side disbelievingly. “The answer’s yes though,” he grins through his tears. “Fucking hell, Louis, yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Yes?” Louis repeats, heart leaping in his chest. “You say yes?”
“Yes,” Harry nods, then starts crying again, “yes, yes, yes, fuck! Fuck, Louis, yes!”
“Yes?” Louis asks again, because he needs to be sure. “We’re getting married?”
“We’re getting married,” Harry repeats, choking out another painful sounding combination of a cackle and a sob. “Shit, we’re getting married.”
“We’re getting married,” Louis repeats again, grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He reaches up and winds his arms around Harry’s neck, tugging him down for a wonderful, if slightly messy kiss that he never wants to end despite the fact that Harry’s face is covered in snot and he tastes like tears. He’s getting married.
“I love you so much,” he tells him as they pull apart, cupping Harry’s face and wiping rather futilely at his tears. “You’re the love of my fucking life and I love you so much.”
“I love you, I love you,” Harry chokes out. He knocks their foreheads together and kisses him again, long and slow. “You’re the love of my life too, shit.”
Louis grins wider, brushing their noses together before kissing him again. It doesn’t take long for the kisses to grow heated again, Louis still hard and Harry halfway there again already.Smirking against Harry’s lips Louis flips him over easily, pressing Harry against the pillows and spreading his legs. “Yeah?” he questions, and Harry nods with a whimper, spreading his own legs wide and wrapping them around Louis’s back tightly as he sinks himself inside.
It doesn’t take long for either of them to come, Harry jerking himself easily as Louis thrusts into him, still attached at the lips. Louis holds off until Harry’s trembling, then covers his hand with his own and jerks him faster until he comes again, which makes Louis come himself just a few seconds after.
Panting into each other’s mouths, they topple back onto the pillows in a tangle of limbs. There’s spunk everywhere and they’re going to have to change the sheets because they’re absolutely covered in it, not that Louis gives a shit right now.
“I love you so fucking much,” he says again, grinning as Harry lets out a little squeak and tucks his head into Louis’s neck. “I’m sorry it wasn’t, like, the proposal you always wanted or whatever, but for what it’s worth you scared the shit out of me, so I’d say we’re even.”
Harry pinches his nipple. “I panicked,” he mumbles forlornly into Louis’s shoulder. “I thought I’d misheard you and then you stopped and it was all so weird and I…”
“Oh shut up, I’m teasing,” Louis says, prodding him in the bicep before he reaches for Harry’s hand to lace their fingers. “Still going to get you a ring, of course.”
Harry turns his head at a lightning speed, eyes wide as he stares at Louis. “Yeah?” he questions in a small voice, squeezing Louis’s hand like a vice. “Really?”
Louis nods. “I’ll even propose again if you want me to. Get you the ring and ask your dad all proper, then take you out to Muggle London to the best restaurant I can Confund our way into…”
Harry’s kissing him again before he’s even finished his sentence, nodding rapidly even as he licks into Louis’s mouth.
“Please,” he says with a wet chuckle as he pulls back, hands cupping Louis’s cheeks. “That sounds amazing, yes please.”
“Consider it done,” Louis grins, opening his arms and settling Harry’s longer body against his chest. He kisses his hair and covers one of Harry’s hands on his face so he can link their fingers. “The very best for my fiancé.”
Harry squeals into Louis’s chest, turning his excited face away but kicking his legs against the mattress like an excited child. “Fiancé,” he giggles merrily. “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Louis chuckles and pretends to roll his eyes. “Harry Styles-Tomlinson,” he singsongs. “Harry Styles-Tomlinson and his husband Louis Styles-Tomlinson.” He pulls a face. “Bit of a mouthful, ain’t it?” Harry doesn’t say anything, just keeps beaming up at him. “You fucking love it, don’t you? You little domestic bastard, this is practically giving you another fucking boner.”
“I always thought it would be Tomlinson-Styles if I’m being honest,” Harry grins. “Or just Tomlinson. Harry Tomlinson.”
“Harry fucking Tomlinson,” Louis chuckles, leaning down for a kiss. “That does have a ring to it. I could get used to that, you know.”
“You fucking better,” Harry says, playfully pinching his nipple. “That’s your life now. That’s your life for the rest of your life.”
“Christ, what on earth was I thinking?” Louis crows, then yelps when Harry pinches his nipple harder. “Sounds positively terrible, you for the rest of my life.”
“Louis!”
“Oh hush, you know I’m teasing,” Louis says faux-exasperatedly. “I’m quite looking forward to it, if you must know. But don’t tell anyone that.”
“Whatever,” Harry pretends to huff. “You looooove me, you want to marry me, you want to have my babies and raise a family and grow old wi…nngh.”
Louis cuts him off with a hard kiss. “Shut up,” he murmurs into his mouth. “You’re really annoying and I just want to kiss you. Will you stop talking so I can?”
Harry tuts but moulds their lips back together, snaking his tongue into Louis’s mouth and rolling back on top of him, pressing him against the pillows.
They don’t do much talking after that.
*
One of the things Louis loves most about returning to Hogwarts after a long summer is the Sorting. It’s so much fun watching these new witches and wizards coming into this new school and getting excited (or sometimes looking absolutely mortified) about the Houses they’re sorted into, ready to start their magical journey.
Third year Muggleborn Louis Tomlinson watches happily from the Gryffindor table, nestled between his friends with a big plate of chicken and a full glass of pumpkin juice in front of him. A young girl with bright ginger pigtails has just been sorted into their House, and he drops a bone onto the plate to join in with the raucous applause. There’s a pause as Headmistress McGonagall readies herself for the next young hopeful.
“Styles, Harry!” she calls, and a young boy with a head full of curls stumbles out of the crowd and towards the seat. He’s got big round eyes and chubby cheeks, eager with a bounce in his step as he walks up to the seat. He sits down and Professor McGonagall places the hat on his head. There’s a few seconds of pause, and then the hat bellows out, “Hufflepuff!”
The boy rises, a beam on his young face, then as he’s scuttling towards the Hufflepuff table he trips over his own feet, stumbling and toppling on the ground with a loud “oof!”
Laughter explodes throughout the Great Hall and echoes through the high ceilings. Professor McGonagall hurries over to pull him back to his feet and she dusts him down a little before sending him back over to join his house. His face is burning bright red, bless him, and Eleanor beside Louis groans into her hands.
“Nooo, Harry, bloody hell,” she whines. “I can’t believe he’s just done that.”
Louis wipes his eyes and looks over at her. “Oh god, do you know him?”
Eleanor nods. “Yeah, we grew up in the same village, went to the same school and stuff, he’s a family friend. I think we were maybe two of the only Pureblood kids in Holmes Chapel, actually. Poor kid, he’s got to be mortified.”
“Bloody brilliant though,” Stan says from Louis’s other side. “That was so fucking funny.”
“Language, Stanley,” Eleanor reprimands. “He’s only a First Year, don’t be mean.”
Louis cranes his neck and tries to get a better look at the kid. He’s now sat in between a Prefect and another First Year that they watched get Sorted earlier. He’s got a kind of bemused grin on his face, looking more distracted by the huge array of food heaped in huge piles on the plates in front of him rather than paying any mind to the fact that he just humiliated himself in front of most of the school.
Not that Louis can blame him, the food is secretly one of his favourite things about Hogwarts.
That’s the first time Louis properly looks at Harry Styles, already feeling rather fond of the small boy in a strange way, despite he really doubts there’s a chance their paths will cross. He’s very wrong, of course, but there’s still time before fate brings them together.
Until that time, Louis resigns himself to stuffing his face with more chicken and watching as a new string of First Years joins the Gryffindor table.