Chapter Text
***
As he’s walking down the corridor, Harry is entirely focused on trying to remember whether it was Olrich the Old or Vlad the Vulgar who had been the instigator of the Battle of the Salamander, and so he nearly topples over when someone suddenly pulls him from behind. He barely manages to hold on to his book bag as he is dragged backwards behind a large tapestry and into the hidden alcove behind it. Re-arranging his limbs back to their proper standing position, Harry huffs out a fond laugh.
“You really need to stop doing that.”
“Oh, really?” Louis says, smirking. He still hasn’t removed his hand from where it’s gripping the back of Harry’s jumper, and he uses it to pull him in closer.
Harry goes willingly, letting his book bag drop to the ground with a thump.
“Yes,” he says, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck, “one of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that.”
“Ah,” grins Louis, “can’t help it. It’s my Gryffindor blood, you see. Makes sneaking around very appealing.”
Harry has a witty retort sitting on the tip of his tongue, but it melts away as he notices that Louis’ attention is focused on his mouth. One track mind, he thinks wryly, leaning forward and joining their foreheads together.
“Hi,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Louis’ softly.
“Hi,” Louis whispers back, “I missed you at breakfast today.”
“Soz, Finley stopped me to chat about a new play he wants to run for the match next week, and then it was taking so long I just ended up sitting at our table with him so I’d at least get to eat something before class.”
“Soz?” Louis says, sounding suspicious. “Is that another one of your Muggle catchphrases? I thought I would have heard them all by now.”
Harry laughs. “It’s not a catchphrase, Lou, honestly, I keep telling you comic books aren’t an accurate representation of normal Muggle behaviour. It is Muggle slang though. It’s short for sorry.”
“Short for sorry? Are Muggles really so impatient that they can’t even say a two-syllable word?”
“The wizarding community like shortening words just as much, don’t try and pretend like you don’t!“
Louis sticks his tongue out, petulant as always, and combs his fingers through Harry’s curls.
“You’re such a busy bee these days, Haz, it’s a wonder you have any time to see me anymore.”
“I’ll always have time for you, you nutter, don’t worry.”
Louis leans in and kisses him again, softly this time, barely managing to contain his pleased smile.
“I’ll be there for dinner though, I promise!” Harry says. “We’re at your table tonight, yeah?”
Since their friendship group was split among the houses, they had decided early on that it was fairest that they rotate where they sat for meals. As such, they dutifully switched between Slytherin for Harry, Gryffindor for Louis and Liam, and Hufflepuff for Niall. Louis had tried to argue that Gryffindor should get two rotations, seeing as there were two of them in that house, but he’d been unanimously overruled, with even Liam agreeing that the food was somehow always better at the Hufflepuff table, and there was less chance of being the victim of a rogue Canary Cream at the Slytherin table.
“Yep,” Louis confirms. “Maybe we can play footsie under the table. As long as you don’t accidentally start feeling Liam up by mistake again.”
“That was one time,” Harry groans, “and I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”
“It’s honestly a wonder that we’ve managed to keep this relationship a secret from our friends. If they weren't so horribly unobservant they would have figured it out in a second. Especially with your creepy frog face, Hazza.”
“Oi, I do not have a creepy frog face, shut up!” Harry splutters indignantly. “And like you’re any better, Tomlinson, don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me.”
“And what way is that?” Louis asks teasingly.
“Like I’m your favourite person in the world, and I’m the only person you ever want to snog again, and like you want to have a whole quidditch team’s worth of little Styles-Tomlinson babies with me.”
“Merlin, no!” Louis says, looking horrified. “Is that what you think?”
Harry is frozen for just a second before Louis continues. “It’ll be Tomlinson-Styles, obviously. But the rest sounds pretty accurate.”
He winks, and Harry rolls his eyes half-heartedly in response, but somewhere deep inside his stomach he can feel a tiny fire burning bright at the implications of that statement. They may only be seventeen, but Harry knows that Louis is it for him, that despite the fact that they’ve only been official - albeit secret - boyfriends for a few months, they’re both just as serious about this.
“I’ve got to go,” Harry says, contradicting his words by wriggling impossibly closer to Louis. “I can’t be late for class."
“Haz, you have History of Magic. Binns would literally not notice if you turned up late and wearing a pink tutu,” Louis deadpans.
Harry giggles, and looks down to fiddle with the hem of Louis’ uniform jumper. “Still.”
Louis sighs, and lets go of Harry’s hand. “Fine, then, leave me if you must. I suppose I’d better head up to the Tower anyway and try to do some of my readings before double Potions this afternoon. Liam will be fretting. See you at dinner?”
Harry nods, looking up at Louis cheekily as he bends over to pick up his abandoned book bag. “I’ll be the cute one in green!”
“Oi, that’s quite enough from you!“ Louis says, cheeks a delightful pink. He reaches in and gives Harry one more quick peck, then pushes him back out into the hallway.
Harry grins all the way to class.
***
He makes it into the History of Magic classroom with seconds to spare. He slides into the desk next to Niall, giving him a sharp elbow in the ribs to wake him up from where he’d been snoring softly, face-down on the desk.
Niall jumps, nearly falling out of his chair.
“Hey mate, class hasn’t even started yet, why are you so tired?”
Niall groans in response, rubbing his hand over his face.
“Some smartarse charmed all the alarm clocks in the Hufflepuff dormitories to start singing every time the clock struck twelve. Whenever we tried to stop them, they sprouted legs and ran away… By the time we finally trapped the damn things it was almost dawn.”
“That’s brilliant!” Harry laughs.
“You would think that, Slytherin boy,” Niall says darkly.
“Aww, Nialler, why don’t you go back to your nap. You always get cranky when you’re tired.”
Instead of putting his head back down on the desk, Niall sits up properly and squints his eyes at him. “What’s got you so smiley then?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asks, very aware of the fact that he’s still grinning.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Niall accuses. “You’re even more annoyingly chipper this morning than usual.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Niall,” Harry says, slinging his arm around his best friend. “I guess I just enjoyed my walk to class this morning.”
Niall hums suspiciously, but he lets the subject drop, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Within seconds, he's snoring softly. Harry casts a quick silencing spell on him as Professor Binns floats into the classroom, and pulls out his quill so he can take notes with his free hand.
He manages to pay attention for the first half an hour, but once Binns starts outlining the timeline of the Great Goblin Wars for the third time this term, Harry lets his mind wander. It doesn’t take long before his thoughts turn to Louis.
If he is being totally honest, he isn’t sure if his thoughts ever really get very far away from Louis these days.
It was like every time Harry closed his eyes, he saw the imprint of Louis. Of his eyes, staring at Harry across the dinner table. Of his cheek, pressed against Harry’s pillow, chest rising and falling slowly as he sleeps. Of his voice, singing the latest Celestina Warbeck hit obnoxiously loudly in the shower.
Harry’s never experienced this before, never felt something so much, like he was only just managing to keep it contained within his body. Sometimes it felt like his magic was physically reacting to it, swirling around inside him so potently that he was worried he might shooting sparks out of his fingertips if he wasn’t careful.
It might have been overwhelming, scary even, if it wasn’t so wonderful.
Him and Louis have been friends since first year, back when they were just scared little eleven year olds in too-big robes; and they’ve been practically inseparable since that first moment when Harry had tripped over the hem of his too-big robes, falling right into the waiting arms of Louis Tomlinson. After that, he’d never really left.
***
— September 1st, first year —
Harry is struggling to walk along the narrow aisle of the Hogwarts Express, carrying his cat Zoe in her travel carrier in one hand, and the package of ham sandwiches his mum had packed him for the train journey in the other.
She’s been a bit worried about his departure for the last few weeks, prone to spontaneous cuddling and getting a bit teary whenever she saw him packing and re-packing his school trunk. Harry had thought it might have been a bit easier for her this time, seeing as how she’d already sent his sister off to Hogwarts a few years prior, but apparently not. She’s been moaning about being an “empty-nester” since June. At least Harry knows where he’s gotten his dramatic streak from.
The cat carrier is feeling heavier the longer Harry carries it, and he tries to adjust his grip without letting the sandwiches slip from his fingers. He manages, but he barely has time to feel victorious before he’s suddenly falling forward, one foot caught in the hem of his brand new robes.
He yelps, dropping his lunch so he can hold Zoe’s carrier with both hands and shield her from the fall. He’s surprised when instead of hitting the ground, he feels himself collide with another person. Warm arms wrap around him, probably trying to keep him upright, but the momentum is too much, and they both crash to the ground.
Harry’s still got Zoe held tightly against him, and he immediately pulls back to peep though the window of her carrier. She miaows at him, licking one paw and looking totally unbothered.
He looks up again, to assess the situation he’s found himself in, and sees a boy sprawled in front of him. He’s wearing robes that look brand new too, so Harry thinks he’s probably also a first year. He’s looking at Harry curiously, head tilted to one side, and he’s rubbing his elbow absentmindedly. He must have hit it when they fell.
Oh god.
Harry hasn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet, and he’s already managed to knock someone over. He’s pretty sure he’s about to get yelled at, or maybe worse . What if this boy is so mad that he turns Harry into a frog, or something? He’s not really sure what the protocol is for settling grievances at magic school.
He suddenly realises he’s sitting on something squishy, and shuffles over to pull out his sandwiches from underneath him, now looking awfully worse for wear. He pulls a face, and the other boy must notice, because he laughs. Shocked, Harry makes eye contact with him and winces. “Oops.”
“Hi,” says the boy. “Sorry about your sandwiches.”
“Um,” says Harry. “Better them than you. I’m so sorry about knocking you over, I’m really not normally so clumsy, I swear, it’s just I had so much to carry, and I’m still getting used to these robes —“
“It’s alright,” says the boy, cutting him off. “No harm done. I’m Louis, by the way.”
“I’m Harry.”
“Shall we get up off the floor, then, Harry?” Louis asks. “Only I think we might be blocking the aisle.”
Harry looks up, and sure enough, there's a clump of annoyed-looking older students standing there watching them. He flushes, and jumps up, dusting off his robes.
“I was just going to find somewhere to sit, d’you want to come with me?” Louis asks.
Harry nods, feeling dazed, and lets Louis take his arm and drag him along the train until they find an empty compartment.
Harry sits the cat carrier down on one of the seats, and lets out a sigh of relief. He can't believe he hasn’t even gotten to school yet, and he’s already managed to make an idiot of himself. Louis seems nice enough, though, considering he didn’t punch Harry or put a spell on him or anything after he knocked him over. Maybe this won’t be so bad, after all.
“D’you mind if I let my cat out?” he asks Louis. “She likes to look out the windows when we’re travelling.”
“Nah, go for it mate,” Louis says. “What’s her name?”
“Zoe,” says Harry, lifting the black cat out and holding her to his chest.
“Hiya, Zoe,” Louis says, reaching a hand out questioningly and then petting her carefully when Harry nods. Zoe miaows, and then settles down on Harry’s lap, kneading her paws into his thighs.
“Are you a first year too, then?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling shyly. “I’m proper nervous.”
“You’ll be alright, Harry,” Louis says, looking absolutely certain. “You just stick with me, I’ll look after you.”
“Oh,” Harry says, feeling awkward again. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m sure I can-”
“Nah, I have loads of little siblings, I like looking after people,” Louis explains. “Besides, you have the cutest cat in the world! Mum wouldn’t let me bring ours with me, she said my siblings would miss him too much, so I really just want to be friends with you so I can hang out with Zoe.” He winks, and Harry grins. Friends.
They’re interrupted when the door to the compartment slides open again. There’s two boys standing there, one blond and grinning broadly, and the other with curly brown hair and looking nervous.
“Hiya,” the blond one says. “I’m Niall, and this is Liam. D’you mind if we come sit with you? We were next door but some fourth years chased us out.”
“Sure,” says Louis. “Come in, I’m Louis.”
“I’m Harry,” Harry says, giving a little wave.
“Oh, what a lovely cat!” Niall says, plopping himself down next to Harry. “Did you know black cats can read minds?”
“That’s a myth, actually,” Liam pipes up, but Harry notices he’s looking at Zoe warily.
After that, the train journey seems to go quite quickly. Liam offers everyone his bag of Smarties, which Niall and Louis are both fascinated by. Harry’s privately relieved that he’s not the only one coming from a Muggle background, as Liam subsequently confesses that he was adopted as a baby, and he’s not sure whether his birth parents were magical or not. Harry’s heard that there were some people in the wizarding world that discriminated against Muggles, but neither Louis nor Niall seem to mind, pestering them with questions about Muggle snacks, and what their old schools were like, and “So you mean to say you’ve never ridden a broom before? Oh, just you wait!”.
He’s feeling a lot more relaxed now, but when he feels the train shudder to a halt, Harry can’t help but to feel the nerves start to creep back in again. The four boys gather their things quickly, joining the line of students clambering off the train noisily.
Harry takes a deep breath, and Louis offers him his elbow.
“Can’t have you tripping over again, now can we?” he says with a cheeky grin.
Harry huffs out a laugh, but he links his elbow through Louis’ anyway. They disembark the train like that, grinning, and then all of a sudden, they’re on a boat, and Harry is heading straight into this brand new chapter of his life. He looks at the three boys sitting beside him, and he thinks bring it on.
***
Harry half-runs down the Great Hall, skidding to a stop in front of the Gryffindor table and throws his book bag down on the bench seat.
“Did I miss the pie?” he pants, clutching at his chest as he tries to catch his breath. He cranes his neck to look down the long table, but he can’t see any sign of his favourite shepherd’s pie. He’s been looking forward to it all week, and if he’s missed it…
To his dismay, the big serving dishes on the table are only holding trifle and the remains of a raspberry cheesecake. Niall and Louis are both tucking into a big slice, Niall’s school tie thrown haphazardly over his shoulder.
“Hello to you too, Harry,” Liam says dryly, picking at his own bowl of trifle.
“Sorry, hi. I got held up at the greenhouses, Professor Longbottom wouldn’t stop talking to me about the plans for the new magical herb garden he’s building, and then I ran all the way here…”
“Hey, Haz, don’t worry, I saved you some dinner.” Louis holds out a plate with a massive piece of shepherd’s pie.
“Oh, Merlin, I love you,” Harry says, and then freezes. Louis’ head is down, so Harry can’t see his face, but the tips of his ears have gone pink. Harry was usually pretty good at censoring himself in front of their friends, so he’s blaming the hunger for letting that one slip.
“Not as much as you love me, right?” Niall says, and Harry lets out the breath he didn't realise he was holding.
“Ah, you’re still my favourite Hufflepuff,” he says, “even if you didn’t save me any pie.”
“I don’t save food for people who are keeping secrets from me.”
“What?”
“I know something’s up with you Haz, and if you’re not going to tell me, I will simply have to find out for myself.”
“Aww, leave him alone,” says Liam, “if he does have a secret then that’s his business.”
“Thank you, Liam,” Harry says primly, decidedly not looking in Louis’ direction.
“Nope,” says Niall, “Harry doesn't keep secrets from me.” He leans in closer, and Harry flinches. “I think he’s got himself a secret boyfriend.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry says, busying himself with his pie. Louis has put a heating charm on the plate, so his food was still nice and warm. Merlin, his boy is the best.
“We’ll see,” says Niall ominously. “Lou, you’ll help me get to the bottom of this, won’t you?”
Louis looks stricken, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. He flicks his gaze up to meet Harry’s. “Um,” he says.
“Oh, come on, Tommo, you’re always up for a bit of mischief,” Niall needles, poking him in the arm.
“Alright, Nialler,” he says, “I’m in.”
Harry stares at him in shock, but Louis just winks from behind Niall’s back.
“What about you, Leemo?” Niall asks, throwing one arm over Liam’s shoulders.
“Nope, I’m staying way out of this,” Liam laughs. “I’ve got too much on my plate already.”
“Well that’s your own fault, really, isn’t it Liam? That’s what you get for signing up to be Head Boy!”
“I didn’t sign up to be Head Boy, Louis, I was chosen by the Headmistress, and —”
“A mere technicality. You’re the top student in our House, a volunteer on every student society, and you were McGonagall’s not-so-secret favourite Prefect for the last two years. You signed yourself up for the position.”
Harry tunes out their bickering, a tired old argument that he’s heard over and over ever since the day in the summer holidays that Liam had sent them all owls to tell them he’d gotten the Head Boy spot.
He picks up his fork and attacks his meal, nearly moaning as he eats the first bite of pie. He doesn’t know how they do it, but the house elves manage to produce the perfect ratio of pastry, filling, and mashed potato. It’s even better than his mum’s, not that he’d ever dare to tell her that.
He glances up, and sees Louis watching him, eyes soft. Harry quickly checks to make sure that Niall and Liam are still preoccupied, and then he blows him a tiny kiss. Louis immediately brings his hands up to his face, trying to hide his grin behind his hands, and Harry loves this. One day, he’ll hold Louis’ hand in front of everyone while they eat their tea, and he’ll love that too, but right now, he’s enjoying this, keeping this just for them, precious and soft.
He turns back to his pie, happiness fizzing through his veins, and he waits.
***
Later that night, Harry finds himself once again pushed up against a wall, this time in a hidden corridor behind a suit of armour. He can feel the cold from the stone seeping through his robes, while his front is kept thoroughly warm by the armful of boy crowded against him. The soft buzzing of the muffliato charm around them as an extra layer of protection rounds out the familiar sensation.
Ever since he’d started dating Louis, Harry has spent an unprecedented amount of time pressed up against the stone walls of the castle, and he's become startlingly familiar with many of its secreted hiding places. He can’t say that he minds.
“Why did you - ah - why did you say you’d help Niall try and figure out my secret?”
Louis grins against Harry’s neck, pausing from where’s he’s been sucking a rather large love bite into his skin.
“Well,” he says slowly, kissing up towards Harry’s jaw, “if I’m ”helping” him work it out, then I can make sure he goes down the complete wrong direction.”
“Ah,” Harry says, threading his fingers through Louis’ hair. “So you’re a spy, then? My very own James Bond.”
“James who?”
“He - never mind.”
Louis smirks, and presses his thumb against the bruise blooming on Harry’s neck. Harry makes a mental note to remember to cover that up later. At this rate, he’s going to have to brew up another batch of concealment potion this weekend, or else come up with excuses for Niall as to why he’s wearing his scarf inside. Again.
“Now can we stop talking about Niall?” Louis asks, just a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’m doing some of my best work here, and you’re insisting on making conversation about Niall. If I was a lesser man I may start feeling insecure.”
Harry laughs, and presses their lips together, kissing him soundly for a minute before pulling back with a smack. “You may proceed Mr. Tomlinson.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Styles,” Louis says graciously, and then with a wicked grin on his face, he proceeds to shut Harry up quite effectively.