Chapter Text
“Harry, you've done this a dozen times before.”
Harry rolled her eyes, fidgeting with her rings some more. She'd been in a pissy mood all day, much to Sarah, Mitch, Adam and Clare’s annoyance.
“I know, Sarah,” she huffed, now fiddling with her hair. One side was done in three tight braids, while the other was loose. It no longer pooled by her waist, though; now, it lay just above her collarbones.
She’d complained and whined about how annoying having long hair was as a human—it got dirty so quickly, knotted and gross within a week of washing it, something she'd never had to deal with before—until Louis had dragged her out of bed at three am a few weeks ago.
“I know it's annoying, baby, I'll fix it for you,” she'd said with far more patience than Harry deserved. She'd sat her down in the bathroom and taken a pair of scissors to Harry's locks, trimming it down with with care.
Harry had been tired and emotional—her hair had never been cut for as long as she'd been alive, and being a human came with so many mood swings she was still trying to manage—so she'd cried a little, as Louis worked.
Louis hadn't commented. She’d just cut Harry's hair (still much longer than Louis’), pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, smoothed her tears away, then dragged them back to bed.
In the darkness of their bedroom— theirs, now—Louis had confessed she’d cried when she first cut her hair off too, a blunt pair of scissors in her hand and a Harry-sized hole in her heart.
“At first I cut it off because it reminded me of everything I'd lost,” she whispered, fingers running through Harry’s now-shorter hair in a long, soothing strokes. Harry had stopped her pathetic sniffling the second Louis had started talking, eyes wide and fixed on Louis’ face. Or, where she thought Louis’ face was—her new human eyes were so weak in the moonlight. Louis paused for a moment before continuing, “but then, I learned about humans and their gender roles and shit, and I kinda… kept it, for me. It doesn't… I mean, you were so sad when you first saw it, would you rather I grew it back out?” she asked, suddenly nervous-sounding.
Harry had leaned close, pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ surprised lips. “I love it like this,” she'd said, tangling her hand in Louis’ short hair. “And I only want you to do or be whatever you want. I'll always love you.”
Louis had been silent for several long seconds, then she'd rolled on top of Harry and kissed her with so much passion and care that Harry's head was swimming with it. They hadn't done much talking after that.
Four months of being a human, and Harry loved Louis more and more every day.
Now, here she was, about to sing for her largest audience so far, and all she could think about was the fact that Louis wasn't here.
“We’re going on in ten, Harry, I need you to pull it together,” Adam said firmly, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. “You said you were in this for the long run. Well, tonight's our shot at that.”
Harry deflated. They'd only found out this afternoon about a rep from the independent label they'd been in conversation with for the past week who would be sitting somewhere amongst their fans tonight, waiting to see what they were made of. “I'm sorry, guys. I know tonight's important. It's just…”
Clare patted Harry on the shoulder. “Your girlfriend couldn't make it, huh?”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, she couldn't get the night off work. Wait–how did you know?”
Clare shared a knowing look with the rest of the band.
“Because you can usually never shut up about how she’s gonna be in the audience,” Mitch butted in, looking both fond and unamused, somehow.
Harry pursed her lips. “Well, for your information,” she snapped back, gearing up for what was probably going to be a very embarrassing rebuttal.
“She’s the love of your life, yes, Harry, we know, ” Sarah interrupted, fiddling with her drumsticks nervously. “You can tell us all about the magical babies you’re going to eventually have later, okay? We need to go on stage.”
The stage manager nodded frantically from the wings. Harry hadn’t even noticed his arrival.
She shook herself, dancing a little on the balls of her feet. Huge crowd, no Louis, no big deal.
They took to the stage.
And Harry smashed it.
“Fuck yes!” Adam laughed as they run off after the encore, the noise of the crowd still ringing in their ears. “There’s no way we’re not getting an album deal after that, I’m putting good money on it.”
Harry threw her arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair. “No one’s taking that bet, Pendergast,” she shot back, still giddy.
Then, she noticed three women standing in the corridor leading to the band’s shared dressing room.
“Harry!” Liam cried, rushing forwards. Niall and Zayn hung back a little, wide smiles on their faces.
Harry let go of Adam just in time to accept Liam’s crushing hug. Liam squeezed her firmly, lifting her off the ground a little.
Harry giggled. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked breathlessly, pulling back to look between the three girls. Sarah, Mitch and Adam continued on down the hallway, no doubt eager to get a fresh shirt on and start a night of celebrating a gig well done.
“Louis made us promise we would keep it a surprise, but we booked tickets ages ago,” Zayn said, hooking an arm around Harry’s waist. “I’m a bit offended you didn’t think we’d come, actually.”
Harry closed her gaping mouth. “Well, I…” she stuttered, slightly overwhelmed. She looked around at each of them, her wonderful girls. “Thank you. I love you all.”
When she'd chosen humanity a few short months ago, she'd really been choosing Louis, when it came down to it. And she obviously hadn't regretted that choice, but nothing was as easy as she thought it would be. She missed home more often than not: she missed her culture and her magic and her freedom. And that wasn't something that she could just ignore. But in that moment, looking at her friends, her family, she realised maybe her choice didn't have to be entirely about Louis after all.
“Awwww,” Niall cooed, tickling Harry until she giggled and batted her hands away. “You big softie. C’mon, let’s go get drunk.”
Harry snorted and ushered them down the hall. There’d be no getting drunk for her, of course—something she’d discovered about her new human body was how entirely unpleasant feeling sick was, and ever since Louis and her had gotten trashed on cherry wine and she’d woken up with the world’s worst headache she’d sworn herself off alcohol—but dancing was always fun, and being around happy humans was always fun, and all of her friends were here.
All except one. Because as big of a revelation as it was that Harry had a support network of her own, it still didn't surpass the revelation—the miracle—that Harry felt every day she was lucky enough to be loved by Louis Tomlinson.
By the time Harry and Liam dragged a very drunk Niall and Zayn back to the apartment, Louis had just gotten off shift. Harry tucked everyone into bed and cleaned up her and Louis’ room a little while she waited for her to come home.
She may or may not have lit a few candles. That was between her and her gods.
Harry didn’t have to wait very long before she heard the front door opening, the sound of muffled cursing as Louis grappled with the chain like she always did.
Harry smiled, standing patiently in the middle of the bedroom.
Louis pushed the door open. Harry’s eyes widened almost comically, taking in the beautiful bouquet of flowers Louis was holding—a pink, red, and white arrangement made of roses, carnations, and lilies.
Louis thrust the flowers at Harry almost nervously, babbling, “they got a little crushed on the bus, I’m sorry, and don’t ask me what they say in that flower language thing because I haven’t a clue, but, here.”
Harry accepted the bouquet graciously, tempted to shove her face in it and feel the soft petals against her cheeks. She restrained herself, taking a delicate sniff instead.
“Thank you, Louis, they’re beautiful,” she smiled, holding them to her chest. “You didn’t have to.”
Louis smiled back at her, fidgeting with her fringe. “Yeah, but I felt so bad I missed your big night, and I wanted to give you something nice.”
Harry’s grin turned lascivious. “I can think of plenty nice things you can give me.”
Louis snorted and rolled her eyes. So much for Harry's well-planned segue. “Alright, well, I’m gonna get a vase for those, feel free to write a list while I’m gone,” Louis sassed, making her way towards the kitchen.
“Oh, I will,” Harry called after her—softly, so as not to wake the others.
Harry heard Louis’ laughter from the kitchen, and hid her smile in the flowers.
❧❧❧
The topic of marriage surprisingly didn't come up until about year after Harry had first joined the ranks of humanity. It was a cool February afternoon, and Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall, and the band were braving the weather to have a lovely picnic in the park to celebrate Harry's 19th birthday.
Harry was fresh from the holiday season, full of new knowledge about the particular ways the humans closest to her chose to celebrate with their bastardised versions of Harry's own religious practices. She'd made a promise to herself that if she and Louis were ever blessed with children, she would raise them as she had been; the old ways could live, outside the mountain.
It had been lovely to meet Liam’s family over Christmas, though; Louis and Harry went with Liam back to her hometown, something Louis had apparently been doing for the past two years. They were wonderful people, even if Harry wished Louis might tell them the truth about her and Liam.
But that was a fight that Harry had long since stopped trying to have.
Today was about celebration, and family, and friendship. She was sipping her pomegranate juice and leaning back against Louis’ chest, enjoying the afternoon and the company of her loved ones.
Until a very drunk Clare decided to ask an inappropriate question. “You two are so cute!” she slurred, pointing at Harry and Louis’ intertwined forms. “When are you getting–” hiccup “–married?”
Harry felt Louis stiffen against her back.
Liam looked panicked, strangely enough, and shushed Clare, like that would somehow make everyone un-hear her question.
Niall sent Harry and exaggerated wink, which Harry didn’t appreciate. She’d known she’d come to regret telling Niall about the ring she’d bought a month ago, but she’d done it anyway. Because the ring was beautiful, an emerald embedded in a golden band with leaves engraved around the side. It would look lovely on Louis’ finger for the rest of her life. And it had cost almost half the money Harry had made signing the contract with Chasm's new label. It had been a sound decision, in Harry's mind; their EP had been doing well on streaming services, and they had already written most of their upcoming album. Life was about to get more hectic for Harry, and she wanted to start that process with commitment rather than uncertainty.
But she hadn't meant for it to be now.
Harry sat up slowly. She turned over her shoulder to look at Louis, a question in her eyes. Louis was glaring at Liam, but she turned her attention to Harry immediately. “Well, actually,” she said, licking her lips like she did when she was nervous.
Harry stood, ignoring the gasps of their inebriated friends.
“Louis,” she began, warning in her tone. This was not the elaborate candlelit dinner for two in the sanctum of old magic she’d been planning for months. This was just…
A sunny picnic in the park, with all of her loved ones. Harry deflated.
She looked around at their faces, the mixture of caution and delight—or, in Clare’s case, teary-eyed guilt. She took a deep breath.
Louis pushed herself to her feet and approached her with caution. “I don’t have to, if it’s not something–” she began in a hushed tone, hands outstretched. If it weren’t for the decision Harry was trying to make, she might have been tempted to coo at how cute it was that Louis was trying to have a sidebar with her in the middle of her impromptu proposal.
Harry shook her head in response, cutting Louis off. Then, she fell to her knees. Louis’ eyes widened, body frozen. She looked so pretty, with her backwards cap and her tank top and neon shorts. Harry beamed at her and reached in to her pocket.
“I had something a little different planned for this,” she whispered up at Louis through her grin. Louis smiled then, too, and huffed.
“Me too, but it’s not too late, yeah?” She looked at their friends, their prying eyes.
Harry looked at them too. “No, I think I like this better,” she said, full volume.
Then, she took Louis hand and placed a small, velvet box in her palm.
“Louis, you are my North Star. Even when I thought I'd lost you, you were still the brightest thing in my life. I have been yours for nineteen short years, and while I did manage to live a life without you in it, I never want to try ever again.” Louis closed her fingers around the box, shaking her head. Harry pressed on. “I would like very much to commit myself to you in the customs of your people.”
“This is the strangest proposal I’ve ever heard,” Harry heard Niall whisper. Zayn shushed her.
“With this ring, I ask you to be mine,” Harry finished. She uncurled Louis’ fingers from around the box gently and lifted the lid. Louis squeezed her eyes shut.
“I fucking regret letting you do this in front of those assholes,” Louis hissed, wiping away a few tears that had escaped.
“You’re allowed to cry, Louis!” Adam yelled in support.
Louis flipped him off.
Harry tried to be patient, but Louis hadn’t exactly given her an answer yet. “Louis,” she said, shaking her hand a little.
Louis laughed down at her, a soft, fond thing. She pulled the ring from the box and held it up to the sunlight. “How much did you spend on this, baby?”
Harry crossed her arms, feigning petulance. “There’s no price too high for true love, sweetie, ” she responded.
Louis pursed her lips as she slid the ring on her finger. A perfect fit, of course.
Then, she crouched down. She pulled a box of her own from her back pocket and offered it to Harry with her right hand.
“You can stop being snippy now, Harry, my answer is yes,” she sassed, examining the ring on her finger like she hadn’t just made Harry the happiest woman in the world.
“What does mine look like?” Harry rushed out, pulling the box open excitedly. Inside was almost identical in design to Louis’, with one difference; the stone was a sapphire.
“Its blue,” Harry said, dumbly.
Louis laughed softly, then moved forwards. She placed her hand on Harry’s neck, the cold metal of her ring sending a shiver down Harry’s body. “You know you can’t trust Niall with shit like this,” Louis said, nosing Harry’s cheek. “She told me about an hour after you bought it.”
Harry couldn’t even be mad at her, not when it meant that her and Louis had matching rings. She hadn’t even considered that, but the thought was more perfect than she had words for.
“Thank you, Louis,” Harry said, pressing her head into Louis’ neck. “It’s beautiful.”
Louis hummed as she stroked Harry’s hair. Harry blindly pulled the ring onto her finger, then regretfully pulled away so she could stare at the way it gleamed in the sun, how it looked on her hand.
“So I was thinking March, for our handfasting,” Louis said casually, tangling their fingers together. “I’ve got a week off work, and there’s a window where you don’t have any gigs, and I’m working on getting everyone organised to attend. If we travel up to the forest near the mountain, Gemma and Anne said they would sneak out to do the binding for us–”
Harry kissed her, pouring all of her love into it, for fear that otherwise it might bubble out of her. She wasn’t big enough, quite simply, to contain the immense happiness she was feeling. Louis kissed her back like she understood, like she felt the same.
Their friends cheered sloppily, and Harry broke the kiss to giggle against Louis’ cheek.
“Fuck yeah! Love wins!” Niall shouted.
Clare threw some rice at them—a handful of loose, cooked rice—and soon enough everyone was laughing. The sound of their merriment drew i few strange looks from passersby in the park, but if any of the group noticed, they didn’t care at all. The food and the drinks kept flowing, and Louis stayed next to Harry as the sun slowly set and the moon showed its shining face. The drop in temperature called an end to the party, sadly, but everyone piled into two cars to continue the celebrations at the girls' apartment.
Harry pulled Louis into her lap, content to just hold her as she argued with Niall, Liam, and Zayn about who should be the maid of honour at their wedding. The streets of London rolled past, no longer as unwelcoming as Harry remembered them seeming. She hooked her head over Louis' shoulder as she gazed out the window, smiling to herself when Louis paused her impassioned speech long enough into whisper into Harry's ear a quick, sincere: "I love you."
If this was what Harry's first year as a human had brought her, then she couldn't wait to find out what other blessings lay ahead.
The End.