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“Lads, I’ve got important news!” Stan announces as he drops himself onto the bench next to Louis. Louis is, as usual, not sat where he should be with the other Slytherins, but is instead seated next to his best friend Harry at the Gryffindor table. Their other mate Liam is sat across from them, holding hands with his out-of-his-league seventh year girlfriend Sophia. Louis tries not to look at them too often; they make him gag.
“What is is, Stan?” Louis asks. “It’s like, midnight. I’m tired and can’t process much information.”
“It’s 8 o’clock in the morning, Louis.” Harry reminds him gently. Louis groans and flops into Harry’s shoulder, who pats his hair reassuringly. Louis smothers his face in Harry’s sweatshirt. It smells like cinnamon, baking, and apple shampoo.
“It’s a Saturday. I should be asleep, but your psychotic kitten was attacking my feet this morning.” Louis complains.
“Well, you rolled onto her when you were asleep!”
“Lads, do you want to know my news or not?” Stan asks. Louis opens his mouth to continue bitching, but Liam cuts him off.
“Tell us your news, Stan.” he says pointedly. Louis glares at him, and turns to look at Stan. He’s got a suspiciously large grin plastered across his face.
“I,” he says, and immediately pauses for effect. “have landed myself a date to the Ball.” he finishes.
After the Battle of Hogwarts in 1997, the rivalry between Houses, especially Gryffindor and Slytherin, had gotten truly ridiculous. It had been pretty bad before, but the students had noticed that no Slytherins were fighting against the Death Eaters (forgetting to acknowledge that many of the Death Eaters would be family members, friends and relatives) and turned on them once things had returned to normal. As soon as winter came around, some genius students had decided that, actually, winter was miserable enough without students beating each other up, so they garnered the support and approval of various teachers and house elves and held a Yule Ball, much like the one held with every Triwizard Tournament. It had been such a success that it was then held every two years, for all students fourth year and above.
And Stan’s going, apparently. And he’s got a date.
“Congratulations, mate!” Liam says, smiling at him. Harry nods in approval, but Louis finds himself feeling slightly surprised. Not because it’s Stan - the kid has a surprising amount of game, considering he’s a slightly-chubby Slytherin half-blood. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling surprised, and frowns at the table, then catches himself.
“Yeah, congratulations man!” he says, after the moment passes. “What’s her name?” he gets out.
Stan’s date/possible new girlfriend is a girl called Eleanor Calder. She’s a Slytherin since (rather incestuously, Louis thinks) most students at Hogwarts only seem to date within their house. Louis is pretty familiar with her; she had a massive crush on him in third year and flirted incessantly with him. Louis didn’t even notice her crush on him until Zayn told her, in no uncertain terms, to back off, because he wasn’t interested. At that time, Louis had been far too concerned with Harry; he’d gotten kind of distant once Eleanor came onto the scene. For some reason, as soon as Eleanor was gone, Harry had come back. He’d returned with a very vague apology and a hand-knitted beanie hat, and Louis had given him a big hug and asked if he needed any help with his Potions homework. Louis had joked that Harry was allergic to Eleanor, and said not to worry; he was allergic, too.
The resurgence of Eleanor three years later sparks something in Louis, and it’s definitely not a late reciprocation of feelings. He’s got a kind of resentment towards her (she’d caused a rift between he and Harry; granted, it was a tiny rift and it only lasted a few weeks and healed up even better than it had been before, but they’d barely gone a day without talking since they were 11) but the spark has nothing to do with Eleanor.
It’s weird, and Louis takes his head off Harry’s shoulder to ask if he’s gonna have an allergic reaction this time, too, and disappear again, but when he meets Harry’s eyes he gets this weird fluttery feeling in his chest and stomach. It doesn’t go away.
Louis doesn’t finish his breakfast that day. Instead, he goes back to his dormitory and writes a letter to his mum and sisters.
Louis has plans with Harry, Niall and Zayn to go Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade later that day but it’s still 8 o’clock, not 11, so he wastes his time until their agreed meeting hour by annihilating some second-years at wizard’s chess. By the third annihilated first year, he’s feeling pretty good and the fluttery-stomach feeling is gone, so he thinks that any danger he was in of illness is gone. He grabs his coat and scarf, and the beanie Harry had made him and gets down to the Entrance Hall to meet Niall and Zayn and the feeling doesn’t return.
“You alright?” Niall asks. “You left breakfast pretty fast.”
“Yeah, I just had a bit of a funny tummy. I’m good now.” Louis says. Zayn, ever the quiet one, just nods, then waves to someone behind Louis. Louis knows it’s Harry before he turns around. When he does turn, Harry’s grinning and tying a green Slytherin scarf around his neck.
“Harry, I’ve finally converted you!” Louis cries, grinning evilly. Harry rolls his eyes.
“You just left it in my room you prat,” Harry says. “I couldn’t find mine. Gryffindor is still better.”
“I found your scarf, Haz.” Niall says. He’s smirking and looking at Louis. Louis stares down at himself and discovers that he’s wearing Harry’s red Gryffindor scarf. He looks at Harry.
“Slytherin is still better. Give me that, you twat.” he says, and grabs Harry into a headlock and steals back his scarf. Harry’s bright red and grinning like an idiot by the time they’re wearing the right scarves, and the fluttery feeling is back.
Louis and Harry have been best friends for six years, now, and never has Louis had this feeling around Harry. They met on the train in first year; Louis was tiny, nervous and Muggle-born, and Harry’s older sister wouldn’t let him sit with her and her cool fourth-year friends, so he’d been forced into Louis’ compartment. Louis remembers the day well; Harry had had a bright smile, bouncy hair, a tiny kitten, and the kind of effortless charm that made them best friends by the end of the train journey. He also had wizard money and he’d bought Louis his first ever packet of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavour Beans, which had definitely endeared him to Louis.
Disaster had struck when they’d been sorted into different houses; Louis into Slytherin, and Harry into Gryffindor, but Louis was revealed as a Muggleborn not even twenty minutes into their first feast, and apparently there was still stigma around Muggleborns in Slytherin House and he’d been rejected. Louis had taken it in stride, stood up, and left. He’d gone to sit with Harry, and their friendship continued to progress. Apparently, Harry and Louis had some kind of magic fated friendship, because even their mothers had hit it off, and by the Easter holidays in second year they were spending every school holiday together. The two were almost never apart, and had even shared a bed a few times. And Louis’ stomach hadn’t fluttered then, so what the fuck was happening?
When they get to Hogsmeade, the boys are debating which shop they’re going to go in first (Zayn wants the art supply shop. Harry wants Honeydukes, and Louis and Niall just want Butterbeer) when Harry stop mid-sentence and squints into the distance.
“Is that Liam?” he asks. The other boys spin around.
Liam had been invited to come along to Hogsmeade with them, but had turned them down with “Sorry, I said I’d spend the day with Sophia.” Apparently, that had meant Sophia was going to take advantage of his strong stature and use him as a pack horse to carry the Christmas purchases of Sophia and her girlfriends. Louis rolls his eyes as he spots him approach. The boy is whipped
“Liam!” Louis yells suddenly. Liam hasn’t spotted them yet, and jumps out of his skin, almost dropping the bags he’s holding. He hands the bags back to the girls they belong to and dashes towards the boys, Sophia following a few steps behind.
“Hey guys!” he says brightly. Liam, Louis observes, is like a puppy. A puppy that follows Sophia around in a constant state of adoration. It’s not really a bad thing; Sophia adores him back just as much. It’s just that she’s way cooler than he is. Liam is the Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but he’s also a Muggleborn, a huge geek, and was scrawny until very recently. He’s filled out since the pair started dating in Liam’s fourth year and at 16 he’s already got some scruff on his face and started shaving, but he’s still a nerd. Sophia, on the other hand, has been one of the most popular girls in Gryffindor Tower since forever. She’s a year above Liam and the rest of the boys, and she’s always been gorgeous and smart. She’s like the stereotype of a popular girl from the chick flicks that Louis’ sisters love so much, but she’s actually really nice, and not blonde.
“Liam, how dare you?” Louis says, frowning. Liam’s face falls, and the rest of the group look at him curiously, all fully aware that Louis is going to do something ridiculous. Liam is his favourite target for all of his fuckery. He’s always the last to catch on when Louis is messing with him.
“What?” Liam asks. Louis uses his acting talents to fake tears.
“How could you? You told us you were going out with Sophia, and we were forced to venture out alone!”
“Wh-”
“Alone, Liam! Without you to protect us! We could have died! There are dangerous people out there.” he cries, and begins to fake sobs. He turns his face into Harry’s coat, who pats his back. Harry’s chest is shaking with laughter and Louis feels accomplished. Making Harry laugh is pretty much the reason he does all this ridiculous shit. He doesn't know why. He can hear Liam stammering, and his sobs eventually turn into giggles.
“Liam, he’s messing with you.” Zayn says patiently. “Come and have a drink, yeah? We were gonna end up there anyway.” he says, and he sounds pretty final about it so Harry doesn’t pout too much when Zayn says they’ll go in Honeydukes after. It’s a good thing, too, because when Harry pouted Louis had this weird urge to do something about it.
The Three Broomsticks is warm and reasonably crowded, but there’s enough space in there that they managed to get a table for all six of them. Louis is content to drink his Butterbeer in peace (and smile fondly as Harry does his usual thing of asking for a sip, scrunching up his face, and asking for hot cocoa. Louis spikes the cocoa) but not five minutes after they arrive, Liam starts talking.
“So, are you all going to the Ball?” he asks brightly, and Louis’ smile dims minutely. Harry notices, of course. Asshole.
“I am, yeah.” Zayn says.
“Who are you going with, Zayn?” Niall asks. “I’m thinking of asking Barbara.”
“Palvin? She’s nice. Pretty.” Sophia says, nodding.
“I’ve asked Perrie. Edwards? She’s in my house, Ravenclaw.” Zayn says. “What about you, Soph? You going with Liam?”
“Nah, she’s going with me. Isn’t that right, Sophia?” Louis says, grinning and resolutely ignoring Liam’s shocked noise. He slides a hand around Sophia’s waist and she pretends to kiss his cheek.
“Heeeey,” Harry says, tugging on Louis’ sleeve. Louis dutifully removes his arm from Sophia’s waist and instead grabs Harry’s, and pulls him onto his lap.
“Don’t worry, Haz, you’re my one and only.” Louis says. Sophia is smiling.
“Are you two going together, then?” she asks, and for some reason the air fills with tension. Harry goes pink and slides off his lap, and mumbles something about going to get a Butterbeer. Liam mutters something in her ear, and Louis feels like he’s missed something.
Harry returns with more Butterbeer. Louis cracks a joke, and everything is right in the world again. The tension is gone.
Curious.
The day passes swiftly, as it does when one is having fun. Louis actually gets all his Christmas shopping done for once; most of it is sweets for his sisters (all but one of whom are still too young to go to Hogwarts, making it uncertain whether or not Louis is the only wizard in his family) because they really, really like magic sweets, but he does find some really nice bath stuff for his mum, as well as some enchanted wool to feed her recent knitting addiction. She’s pregnant again, this time with twins (a boy and a girl) and has taken up knitting blankets, hats, scarves, you name it. She recently sent him a cryptic letter by owl asking him how long his arms were, and Louis has the suspicion that she’s knitting him a jumper.
It’s dark by the time their group gets back to the castle, laden down with bags that nobody has thought to levitate. Louis is pleasantly buzzed from Butterbeer and at some point, somebody convinced Harry to try some mulled wine. He’d really liked it and he’s a bit closer to the drunk side of tipsy, now, and is currently leaning heavily on Louis’ side and giggling into his neck. Liam and Sophia are leading the group into the Castle, and Zayn and Niall are bringing up the rear. Louis and Harry are wandering to the side, and Harry’s leaning on Louis is causing them to walk on an angle, veering steadily more off-course.
Drizzle is coming down, and the tiny droplets are landing on their hair. The little balls of water land in Harry’s curls and keep their shape, and the yellow light from the candles in the castle illuminate the drops and it looks like his hair is glowing. His eyes are bright green, tinged with gold light. His lips are stained pink, curved in a smile, and his cheeks are flushed from the wine. He’s saying something, and Liam and Sophia laugh at it, but Louis realises he can’t hear anything. Harry’s grinning wider now and Louis would totally kiss him, if he was a girl. His chest is fluttering again, and Louis is beginning to think by now that this feeling is normal, it’s just what Harry does to people. It’s probably the reason that girls always blush and smile when he talks to them; Harry’s a charmer, for sure. Louis knows that he’s charmed by Harry.
Louis is pulled out of his Harry-trance by Liam tapping his shoulder and saying his name.
“Louis? Louis, mate, you’ve gone somewhere else.” he’s saying. He looks moderately concerned. Louis shakes himself and pulls Harry back into his side from where he’s slipping a bit.
“Yeah? Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I was just saying that Harry’s kind of…” Liam pauses and waves his hand to try and find words. Harry giggles, and shoves his own hand into Louis’ fringe, messing it up. In doing this, he also breaks the surface tension of all the water droplets on his hair and Louis finds his scalp uncomfortably wet.
“You look like a hedgehog,” he coos, and Louis just nods.
“He’s away with the fairies. Barking at the moon. He’s pissed. Right.” he says. Harry’s chuckling to himself.
“...yeah, so me and Soph are just gonna take him to his bed, if that’s alright with you?” Liam says. He sounds uncertain.
“Yeah, why would that not be alright with me?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow. He turns to Harry. “Come on, you great lump, get off.” he says, and (gently) shoves Harry off him and throws his arm around Liam’s shoulders.
“Aw, but I don’t wanna leave you, Lou!” Harry protests, although he looks as though he’s falling asleep on Liam’s shoulder. Louis feels a vague stab of jealousy, masked somewhat by the urge to be the one to take care of him.
“No, go on Harry. You’ve got to go to bed. You’re a bit drunk, love.” Louis says slowly, like he’s talking to a child. Harry crosses his eyes at him. Louis is talking to a child. “Harry, it’s bedtime.” he tries. Harry pouts.
“Come and sleep with me.” he says. Louis is taken aback slightly; they share a bed a lot, even during term-time when they don’t strictly need to, but it usually just sort of happens. They’re always in each other’s Common Rooms past curfew. They’ve never actually asked like this.
“I… Christ, you’re really drunk, aren’t you?” Louis laughs. “Go to bed, Harry. Liam and Sophia are going to take care of you.”
“But you take care of me.” Harry says, and oh, Christ, he’s sulking.
“Sorry, baby, but I’ve got to go.”
“See, I’m your baby! You said it! You have to take care of me.” Harry says. Louis can’t help but “aw” at that. He gives him a gentle kiss on the forehead (it’s not weird, they kiss each other all the time!) and dashes off to his Common Room because it feels like his heart is going to pop. He puts all thoughts of Harry out of his mind for now.
It’s weird, Louis thinks, that he’s not interested in finding a date for the Ball. It seems to be all anyone can talk about. Zayn’s going with Perrie and Niall’s going with Barbara, and their teachers keep trying to relate to them by winking and giving them some tip to get girls to go to the Ball with them, but Louis is utterly uninterested and un-related-to. Every minute that he’s not trying to eat Eleanor’s face, Stan is asking him if he’s going to ask out this girl or that girl.
“Man, why aren’t you even thinking about it? This is like, your one chance to get a girlfriend before you turn 17 and you’re an adult."
“It’s not a big deal, Stan, honestly. Maybe I don’t want a girlfriend!” Louis says.
Stan looks at him curiously for a minute, before saying, “Oh.” and something goes on behind his eyes.
“What?” Louis asks, frustrated. Stan just shakes his head.
“Nevermind. Sorry, dude.” he had said, and then left really fast, confusing Louis greatly. Louis ponders briefly how often he feels like this lately, and then goes back to not giving a shit.
Zayn and Niall are useless, too. Every time Louis mentions how few shits he gives about this Yule Ball, one of them gives him a weird look. Even Harry’s been unhelpful - Professor Longbottom has gotten on his back about a missed Herbology essay or something, so he’s been busy scrubbing out plant pots as detention and when he gets back he’s tired enough that he just falls asleep in Louis’ lap.
Really, it’s probably about time Louis started being interested in girls now, but he just… isn’t. Like, Perrie’s really cool and Sophia’s pretty, but he just wants to be their friend. Eleanor still makes eyes at him sometimes and that makes him really uncomfortable, not least because it makes Stan jealous. However, the problem is not making Stan jealous or thinking Sophia is pretty. The problem is that Louis is almost 17 and has no interest in even kissing a girl. The closest he’s come to a kiss is when last year, he’d been using mistletoe in one of his Potions and held it up to his partner, asking what it was. She’d mistaken his intentions and tried to kiss him, and he’d back-pedalled so fast it was hilarious.
As Louis is contemplating this, his left hand is carding through Harry’s curls. He’s fast asleep in his lap, and Zayn is being the beautiful, wonderful person that he is, and is doing Louis’ Transfiguration essay for him. The fire is crackling and Louis’ feet are pleasantly warm, and his chest pounds as Harry curls into him. Zayn is usually Louis’ partner in crime and mischief, but the atmosphere is right for Louis to actually have a serious conversation with him, and he suddenly has a conversation topic.
“Zayn,” Louis says. His voice sounds quiet and unsure so he tries again. “Zayn, when did you start liking girls?” he asks, and Zayn looks up at him with a strange expression on his face, quill caught between his teeth.
“I’ve always liked girls, Lou. Why?” he asks.
“No like, when did you start wanting to date girls?” he tries. Zayn scratches down another sentence then speaks up.
“Dunno. Third year? I always thought about girls but I didn’t really want to date any until I was thirteen. That’s when I had my first crush, anyway.”
“What’s having a crush like?” Louis asks, and Zayn gives him a funny look.
“You’ve never had a crush?” he asks incredulously. “Mate, you’re sixteen.”
“Well, I don’t know, do I? Just tell me what it feels like.” Louis snaps. Harry snuffles and grabs a fistful of his sweatshirt, and Louis melts a bit. Zayn looks between them and makes the incredulous face again, and Louis doesn’t understand why people always make that face at them.
“Just sort of… fuzzy. Like, whenever they’re around you kind of want to not be there, because they make you feel so weird, but it’s a good weird. And when they aren’t there, you don’t really know what you’re doing, because it’s kind of like… it’s like the opposite of being drunk. You feel really good with them, like you’re tipsy, but you don’t wobble about. And if you do wobble about it’s because you’re trying to make them laugh.” Zayn says. Louis frowns.
“Do you get squishy in your chest?”
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.” Louis lies. “I think it’s time for Harry to be in his bed.” he says, to change the topic. His heart’s going faster than usual and he feels like he needs to be away, even though that’s completely irrational. He stands up faster than he intended to, and accidentally dislodges Harry and wakes him. “Shit, sorry.” he mutters, and scoops Harry up in his arms.
“Ggghhhh,” Harry groans, and Louis smiles despite the weird feeling he’s having.
“Relax, mate, I’m just carrying you up to bed.” he says, and Harry does relax, on the condition that he be carried piggyback-style. Louis obliges; Harry is heavy.
They manage to get up the six flights of stairs to the sixth-year dormitories, though Louis has no idea how. By now, Louis knows Harry’s dormitory better than his own, honestly; he’s even got his own toothbrush in his bathroom, and more of Louis’ clothes are in Harry’s drawers than are in his own drawers. He easily finds Harry’s bed even though he can’t see the floor in the dim candlelight coming from the other side of the room, and drops Harry onto the mattress. Ed, one of Harry’s dorm-mates, is playing guitar chords quietly and there’s a fireplace smouldering, its coals releasing their last vestiges of heat.
Even though Louis’ footfalls are heavy due to the weight on his back, and the rain outside is coming down hard, everything feels calm and quiet. The room is lit softly with the pale, white light from the moon, and with the light from Ed’s candle. Both lights waver; the rain distorting the moon’s light through the window, and the candlelight with it’s natural flickering.
“Who’s there?” Ed murmurs, not wanting to be the one to disturb the atmosphere in the room.
“Just Harry. And Louis.” Louis whispers back. Harry stirs.
“Help me get my kit off, then.” Harry says sleepily. The light is just enough for Louis to see Ed sit up sharply. His strumming stops.
“Should I leave?” he asks seriously, and Louis bites back a laugh.
“Jesus, Ed, it’s alright.” he says, failing to stifle giggles. “Come on, Haz, put your P.Js on, there’s a good lad.” he says. Ed goes back to strumming and writing lyrics, and Louis shuffles into his own pyjamas. He pulls back the sheets and slides Harry’s limp, tired body underneath, then gets in beside him without a thought. He immediately snuggles into Harry to warm up, and he can feel Harry’s heartbeat where their bare chests touch.
“Night, Lou.” Harry mumbles. “Love ya.”
“Love you too,” Louis says through a yawn.
The last thing they hear before they fall asleep is a line from the song Ed is writing.
“But my friends won’t love me like you.”
Everything comes to a head two days later, in Potions class. Louis and Harry are both in the NEWT Potions class, a class of about 8 people in total rather than the usual 30 due to it being so difficult to get into NEWTs for Potions. This is great for the students who do get in, though, because it means that they can make far more interesting (and often dangerous) potions in class.
“Who can tell me,” Professor Malfoy booms from the front of the classroom, “What Amortentia is?”
Louis, on the whole, is not very academic; his main talents are singing, wit, and acting, which don’t get you far in the wizarding world because they’re so technologically behind the Muggle world. He’s not very good at wand work, and he loathes essay-writing. However, he’s got this affinity for Potions, and as such, his hand is the first in the air. He’s also Professor Malfoy’s favourite, which is nice.
“Yes, Louis?”
“Amortentia is the world’s most powerful love potion. It’s actually really dangerous, because it-”
“Thanks Louis, that’s enough for now. Ten points to Slytherin, though!” Malfoy says. He’s kind of unprofessional, and for this reason he is Louis’ favourite teacher. “Amortentia is tricky to get right, and if brewed wrong can result in a dangerous obsession. It’s pretty distinctive; it’s got a pearly sheen to it, and the steam comes up in spirals. The ingredients are in the cupboard, and the recipe is on page 39. Skip the first 4 paragraphs, that’s just health and safety. Completely unnecessary. Off you trot!” he shouts, and the dungeon is filled with the sound of clanging cauldrons.
Amortentia is a walk in the park, if he’s honest. Louis has no idea why Malfoy said it was so difficult; it follows a pretty basic formula of chopped eels, diced roots, and evaporated dragon’s blood, followed by ten anticlockwise stirs and some more ingredients. For some reason, Louis can’t stop thinking about Harry working next to him as he’s stirring, and on his first clockwise stir halfway through the lesson, his potion turns pink and starts steaming.
“This is fantastic, Louis.” Professor Malfoy says, grinning widely. “Keep it up.”
Louis tries to grin back, but accidentally inhales some of the steam, and suddenly his chest is tight and fluttery and Harry’s on his mind again. He starts coughing and feels dizzy, and has to lean on his bench for a second.
“Whoa.” he says, after his small coughing fit is over. He lowers his flame to a simmer and Malfoy seems to remember something, and dashes up to the front of the classroom.
“Oh yeah, shit- I mean, don’t inhale the smoke. It’s not toxic, but it can cloud your judgement a bit because it gives you what I can only describe as lovey feelings.” Malfoy shouts.
“Like the fluttery chest feeling?” Louis blurts out. Harry gives him a look, but he doesn’t see.
“Yeah, like that. Now get back to it, Harry’s about to add too much liverwort.” Louis spins around, and the class spins with him; an excess of liverwort is sure to cause an explosion.
“Shit, don’t do that Haz!” Louis cries, and catches his hand before he wrecks everything. The class breathes a sigh of relief, and Louis and Harry accidentally inhale some of the steam coming from Louis’ simmering cauldron. A moment later, Louis finds himself stood a lot closer to Harry than he was before, and their hands are clasped around each other, liverwort on the bench. Louis flushes dark red and steps away. The class is staring.
“That’s one of the reasons you shouldn’t breathe the steam. It causes side effects.” Malfoy says. He’s smirking, and he is not Louis’ favourite in that moment. Louis busies himself with his powdered Snorkack horn and pretends he didn't just think about making out with his best friend. If he can pass off the desire to kiss Harry as Amortentia fumes, he will. And he does.
By the end of the lesson, two students have blown up their potions with liverwort, and one student has been taken to the Hospital Wing because they got so giddy. Louis begins to understand why people don't make this potion very often. On the other hand, he feels really good about this, and not just because it smells so fucking good. Like, everything good in the world kind of good. By the time Professor Malfoy calls for the end of the lesson, Louis has managed to achieve the desired mother-of-pearl sheen and delicate spiralling vapour. Harry's cauldron has the spiral down right, but is closer to grey than mother of pearl, and smells kind of like a petrol station. The kid in front of them has created literal tar in the bottom of his cauldron, though, and it's magenta tar to boot. Louis thinks Harry's done alright. After all, it's not meant to be an easy potion.
"Okay, class, I think Louis' got it! Get around this cauldron and tell me what you smell." Malfoy says the class convenes and one by one they describe the scents they get. For some reason, they're all different. One girl gets wood smoke and bacon, someone else gets old books and quill ink, another gets cat fur and strawberries.
"Louis, what can you smell?" Malfoy asks. Louis inhales deeply and closes his eyes to separate the scents.
"Baking bread," he begins. Malfoy nods, and he continues. "Roses, tea, and apple shampoo. And, uh." Louis scrunches up his face. "I don't know. It smells like Gryffindor Tower, honestly." he confesses, and a few people laugh. Louis notes that Harry's face is red. Malfoy doesn't skip past him, and immediately asks,
"What about you, Mr Styles?"
"I, uh." Harry starts. "Butterbeer." he says, and some people laugh again. "Also cocoa, and cherry and almond tart. And-" Harry cuts himself off sharply and actually looks kind of terrified. Louis is worried, and subtly shifts closer to him in comfort. This has a mixed effect on the other boy; he tenses up, while somehow simultaneously relaxing.
"Not going to tell us?" Malfoy jokes, but Harry really does look worried so Louis shoots him a warning glance and thankfully he stops teasing.
"Anyway," he starts, using his Teacher Voice again. "You might have noticed that none of you smelled the same thing. This is because Amortentia smells different to everyone; it smells of the things you love the most, and the smells are often linked to people. For example, Harry may have smelled cocoa because someone he loves makes it for him. Am I right?" he asks.
"Yeah, my mum does." Harry mumbles.
"Right. And maybe Louis smelled apple shampoo because there's someone he loves that uses apple shampoo." Malfoy says. He continues past that point but Louis doesn't hear it because he only knows one person who uses apple shampoo and something just clicked. He's trying very hard not to think about it. The lesson ends with a good grade for Louis but he's still zoned out and focused on apple shampoo, and he dashes out at the end of the lesson faster than he's ever left a room before. He forgets to wait for Harry, and runs straight to the Slytherin Common Room.
"Louis!" Stan cheers as he enters. "I haven't seen you in here in a while, you're always in Harry's tower. What brought you back?" he asks. He's wrapped around Eleanor, and this reminder of romance makes Louis feel sick. Stan notices his paling complexion. "Shit, are you alright, mate?" he asks.
"Where is Zayn?" Louis blurts out. "You just had Transfiguration with him, yeah?"
"Yeah, why you asking? Is this about-"
"Doesn't matter. Where is he?"
"Library." Stan says after a moment's deliberation. "But why-"
Louis is already gone.
"He's a queer one, isn't he?" one of the paintings on the walls says.
"Probably." Stan says absently, then- "Oh."
Louis sprints so fast to the library that even with years of football and then Quidditch behind him, he takes ten minutes to catch his breath and Zayn becomes seriously worried that he's going to have to take him to the hospital wing.
"Mate," Zayn says. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"Amortentia." Louis gasps, still breathless. "It's- it's-"
"Put your hands on your head and breathe slow, you'll catch your breath faster." Zayn instructs, and Louis does. After a few moments, Louis isn’t blue in the face, and it’s safe for him to speak again. “Now, amortentia?” Zayn asks.
“We made Amortentia in Potions today.” Louis says. His voice is level, miraculously. “Do you know what Amortentia smells like, Zayn?” Zayn frowns, trying to remember. Then, like the perfect Ravenclaw he is, gives the textbook answer.
“Amortentia smells like the things you love the most. Why, what does that have to do with anything?” he asks. Louis takes a very long breath.
“I smelled baking bread, and roses.” he says, to get himself going. “And Harry’s shampoo.”
Zayn is quiet. Louis looks up from his twisting hands and meets Zayn’s eyes; they’re contemplative.
“Are you in love with Harry?” he asks gently. Louis, to his credit, doesn’t panic, though his heart is beating fast.
“Can I be?” he whispers. “Boys don’t fall in love with each other, they fall in love with girls, and Harry’s not-”
“Louis.” Zayn cuts him off sharply, in a way that leaves no opening for Louis to start rambling again. “Has no-one ever told you anything about sex ed?” he asks seriously, and Louis stares.
“Of course they have! I know that when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, he shoves his love stick up her lady cave and out pops their mewling spawn, if that’s what you’re asking.” Louis snaps. Zayn stares him down until he apologises.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. He then, in a very un-Zaynlike manner, gets very flustered and seems to forget how to articulate himself properly. “There’s this thing - called homosexuality, or homosexualism, I don’t know - and if you break down the word it basically means same-sex attraction in Muggle Greek, and uh. It’s actually a lot morecommon than you’d think, and, uh-" Louis gives him a look." Basically, boys can love boys and girls can love girls.” he says.
Louis’ brain is swirling.
“Homosexuality?” he asks. “So… I can be in love with Harry if I’m a homosexual?”
“Or a bisexual. There’s a lot of sexualities with a lot of names. Like, “gay” is another word for homosexual, it’s a way more common term. But I’ll tell you about this stuff later. Listen, mate, when you get back to Doncaster this Christmas, google it. You’ll find out a lot more and you might understand it a bit more. But basically, it’s completely possible that you can be in love with Harry, and it’s totally okay, too.” Zayn says.
“Thanks, Zayn.” he says, and after a moment’s hesitation, grabs him in a long hug.
That night, Louis goes up to Harry’s Common Room again. They do their homework and play card games, and fall asleep wrapped around each other in one of the big squashy armchairs by the fire, and for the first time, Louis understands why he doesn’t want to kiss girls, and why he thinks Harry is beautiful. He wants to kiss Harry.
When Louis wakes up it’s grey outside. The Common Room is cold and empty aside from the two of them, the fire completely out, but some kind student had laid a blanket over his and Harry’s tangled sleeping forms to keep them warm. He wonders if the whole school thinks they’re dating, and wonders if he wants to date Harry. There’s a lot he still has to process about the possibility of his being gay.
He untangles his limbs from Harry’s, being sure not to wake the other boy up, and walks to the window. Tiny flakes are just beginning to fall outside, and Louis watches the flakes hit the ground and melt. He quietly observes the snow until he sees the first flake stick, and watches as an icing-sugar-like dusting of white begins to build up outside. The clock over the fire chimes as 6 o’clock in the morning, which explains the flat greyness of the light outside, and Harry stirs. Louis considers running away, but Harry doesn’t deserve that. He crawls back into Harry’s lap and shakes him gently.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty!” he whispers. Harry’s bleary eyes open and he wipes the sleep from them, yawning. They’re bright green even in the grey morning light that’s washing out everything else, and Louis wonders why he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he did, and he just thought it was like, extreme friendship or something. His brain hurts.
Harry smiles as soon as his eyes focus on Louis’ face.
“Morning,” he says, and curls into Louis’ chest. Louis prods him.
“Hey, none of this. It’s 6 o’clock, and we’ve got Divination first. Up you get, we’re having breakfast.” he says.
“6 o’clock?” Harry stares at him in disbelief. “That’s like midnight.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve said those exact words before.”
“You have.”
“Get the fuck up.”
“Alright, alright.” Harry grumbles. He gets up and stretches, still in his uniform from the night before. A sliver of skin above his waistband is exposed when he raises his arms, and Louis’ eyes are drawn to it. If Harry notices, he doesn’t say anything. “Come on,” he says instead. “We’d better change. You’ve got liverwort on your collar, too.”
The pair are the first students down to breakfast; even the teachers aren’t awake yet. In fact, they’re so much earlier than the rest of the student body that they run into a house elf laying out cutlery with their magic. Louis has only ever seen them in the kitchens, when Niall would take him in there to get food, and they’re very nice. This one looks about a hundred years old and is cursing under it’s breath, and Disapparates with a loud crack as soon as it sees them. Louis and Harry meet each other’s eyes, then burst out laughing.
Because they’re the first ones down, they get first pickings of everything. They choose seats right at the end of the table; it’s nearest the teachers, but the bacon is the tastiest at this end, and the eggs somehow stay the warmest. Their conversation flows easily, but the whole time Louis is just thinking about how he’s absolutely, definitely, 100% certainly in love with Harry and how on earth he genuinely didn’t know. There’s a minute lapse in conversation and Louis’ mouth moves of it’s own accord.
“Do you want to come to the Yule Ball with me?” it asks. Harry’s eyes go as wide as saucers and he drops his forkful of sausage. He flushes bright red, and scrambles to pick it up from the massive platter of scrambled eggs it fell amongst.
“I- sorry?” Harry asks. He is the very definition of bewildered and Louis wonders if he’s just made a massive mistake and ruined their friendship. He begins to backtrack.
“I’m really sorry, oh god, I didn’t mean to- I mean I- you don’t have to say yes or anything it’s just-”
Harry’s laughing.
“Louis, of course I want to go with you. It’s not like we weren’t going together anyway, is it?” he says. And yeah, he’s got a point, they were going to go together anyway, but this is different. It feels different. Something’s shifted ever-so-slightly in the air between them, and it feels really nice, actually.
Professor Malfoy is the first teacher to come in, twenty minutes later. He sees their pink cheeks and general giggliness of both boys and raises his eyebrows at Louis, who raises his eyebrows right back at him.
Divination was made a mandatory class a few years ago, after Professor Trelawney pitched a fit because one year, not one student took her class on for OWLs or NEWTs. Despite it being absolute bullshit through and through, Louis kind of enjoys the class, especially in winter. While rational, intelligent Ravenclaw-type people like Zayn will often spend a whole lesson looking like a rabbit caught in the blinding headlights of Trelawney’s pure, mind-numbing bullshit, Louis can sit back on a beanbag chair, relax, and come up with ridiculous predictions that Trelawney will believe, and the class will laugh at. It’s warm in the classroom; the kind of warm that makes you fuzzy inside, and it’s a class he gets to spend making Harry laugh with his ridiculous predictions of the not-future. This lesson, they’re reading tea-leaves.
The study of tea leaves is something that Professor Trelawney gets really, really into around this time of year (something about the Inner Eye being enhanced by the cold air and festive spirit or something insane like that). Louis gets really, really into tea-leaf reading because it means he gets to drink tea. This is something he greatly appreciates.
“Focus your energies on your soul,” Trelawney is saying. “Focus as you drink.”
“Bullshit,” Louis mumbles, and Harry snorts. The last time they did this, Louis burnt his tongue on scalding tea, and despite Trelawney’s rushing him, he’s not going through that again. He sips slowly, holding his pinky out. He looks classy as fuck. Meanwhile, Harry looks ridiculous, long limbs awkwardly folded into a pile on his pink, fluffy beanbag. His massive hands utterly dwarf the pink teacup he’s sipping from, and his hair is kind of sticking up on the left side because that’s where his head was pressed against Louis’ in sleep. He looks like an overgrown toddler at a tea party, and it’s difficult to drink his tea without giggling. Trelawney is talking shit again, but at least now she’s talking shit about Liam’s cup. Liam is her favourite student, which means that his death is most likely to be predicted during any given activity. He’s stopped getting anxious over her predictions, now, which is truly amazing because Liam is a born worrier.
“My dear Liam,” she says woefully. “The triangle in your cup shows that you’ll be experiencing great sadness soon. Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks, in her misty voice.
“No.” he lies, in an attempt to throw her off. While Louis amuses himself in Divination by making up ridiculous visions and tall tales, Liam and Harry like to lie about things to mess up Trelawney’s Inner Eye. It’s probably kind of cruel, but it’s nicer than what Zayn does; ruthlessly refuting anything she says or does with hard science.
“Oh.” Trelawney says, mistiness gone. She finds another way to foretell his suffering and eventual demise, and moves right past Zayn’s cup, giving him no chance to call her bluff. The next person after Zayn is Louis, who quickly chugs his tea and (delicately) slams the cup back down. Trelawney picks up his teacup before he has a chance to inspect his leaves.
“My, my!” Trelawney says, and she sounds impressed. It’s a strange sound on her; Louis wasn’t aware she could sound anything other than fake-mysterious. The uncommon tone of her voice unfortunately catches the attention of the rest of the class. “There is no other explanation for such a pattern; you are surely destined to live up to the legacy of Harry Potter himself!” she cries, huge, magnified eyes going wild. Louis frowns.
“Mate, I’m a Muggleborn and a Slytherin. Let me see those.” he says, and takes back the cup. At first, he just sees a load of soggy brown stuff, but when he looks closer, the leaves clearly spell out...
“Oh my fucking god!” he yelps, and throws his cup down. It lands on a beanbag and doesn’t shatter, but this is probably more harmful than helpful, because Zayn picks it up. He looks into it then whips his head round to stare at Louis.
“Dude.” he says, eyes wide. Louis turns bright scarlet, and grabs at the cup. Zayn yanks it away.
“What?” someone says from across the room. “Did he get a lightning bolt or something?”
“Yeah, has he got the image of Potter’s face, or what?” asks another. Zayn begins to giggle.
“Not quite.” he says, and then, the bastard, he hands the cup to Liam.
“I knew it!” he cries gleefully, and Louis punches his arm. He reaches for the cup, but Liam chucks it back at Zayn, who passes it to Harry. Harry squints into the porcelain for a moment.
“What? I don’t see…” he says, then his voice cracks slightly. “What?”
Harry stares. Louis meets his eyes for half a second before turning violently red, grabbing his bag, and running out of the room. The class crowd around the discarded cup, and view the tea leaves that plainly spell out “HARRY.”
Louis’ first thought is to go to Gryffindor Common Room and find Harry, but his feet take him to Professor Malfoy’s Potions classroom. He’s really glad that he and Malfoy have an actual friendship outside classes, because not only is Malfoy pretty cool, he’s also very wise, having apparently been through some shit in Harry Potter’s time. As such, Louis finds that he can talk to him about almost anything. He blasts into the Potions room, and thank Merlin, he’s not teaching. Louis barges straight in. Malfoy jumps, and almost drops a large cauldron of what is definitely Amortentia. Louis is hit with the scent of apple shampoo and Harry’s individual scent and wants to cry.
“Merlin’s saggy left bollock, you scared the shi- I mean, the life out of me!” Malfoy yelps. “What on earth is the matter?” he asks.
“I’m in love with Harry.” Louis blurts out, then claps a hand over his mouth. Malfoy looks at him.
“And?” he asks.
“And I didn’t even know that boys could love boys until like, yesterday, and I didn’t know I was gay until a bit later, and I can’t be in love with Harry! He’s my best friend!” Louis yelps. Malfoy looks genuinely confused.
“I thought you knew.” he says honestly.
“Explain.”
“Well, the only reason I can think of that nobody thought, in six years, to tell you that you were both hopelessly in love with each other, is that every single person in this school thought you were dating in secret. Apparently, that’s not the case.” Malfoy says.
“Apparently not.”
“No,” the Professor agrees. “but why not go for it, now that you know?” he suggests.
“I can’t do that!”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because… because… because he’s never going to want to be my boyfriend or anything!” Louis borderline-shrieks. “We just had Divination and my tea leaves said HARRY in them and he froze up!”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t you? And do you not think that he froze up in Potions the other day because he could smell you in his Amortentia?” Malfoy suggests. “Just ask him to the Ball or something. He’ll say yes.”
“I already did. And he did say yes.” Louis mumbles. Malfoy grins. It’s never good when he does that.
“Do you know what the next step is?”
“...”
“Kiss him.”
It’s the night of the Yule Ball and Louis has never been more nervous in his entire life. The first-year Sorting Ceremony is nothing compared to this; the knowledge that he’s going to fuck up the best friendship he’ll ever have. He has no idea why he’s going through with Malfoy’s insane idea. Louis would be perfectly happy to live as Harry’s best friend forever and die alone with 19 cats called Keith, but deep down he knows he wouldn’t be. There’s also that Malfoy bet him six Galleons and a really good Potions book, which is strictly against the rules of teaching, really, but it’s for a good cause.
Louis has been standing in the Entrance Hall for five minutes with Zayn, getting increasingly more nervous. It’s a good job that wizarding antiperspirants are actually magic, because otherwise, he’d be sweating through his dress robes. The robes are actually a gift from Harry’s mum Anne; Harry’s from a pretty well-off magical family, and Anne likes to spoil Harry and Louis. They’d arrived yesterday and Louis had noticed straight away that they match; both are fairly standard formal wizarding attire, but with a green baroque waistcoat for Harry, and a blue one for Louis. Somehow, she'd known they would be going together. Louis thinks it's a sign. Or it's a sign that Harry writes to his mum a lot, but whatever. He's nervous.
“Relax, Lou, he’ll get here sooner or later. He’s not going to ditch you, or whatever.” Zayn says, picking at his nails. His date, Perrie, isn’t here yet either, but he seems to be perfectly composed and unworried. He looks fucking gorgeous, as always, with his symmetrical features and effortless cool. Occasionally a girl actually stops in their tracks and stares at him. Zayn's dad has sent him some traditional dress robes from Pakistan and they’re kind of fantastic, just the right shades of gold and orange to make Zayn look like an actual prince.
“I’ll give it five more minutes, and then I’m marching up to Gryffindor Tower and I’m going to drag him out myself.” Louis says determinedly.
He only has to wait one minute more; not long after he says that, Perrie glides down the stairs, looking beautiful (Zayn is away with the fairies as soon as he sees her, which is quite sweet) but shuffling a few steps behind her is a red-faced Harry, and Louis loses all sense of everything. When Harry is in front of him, bashful and grinning, Louis goes right in to kiss his cheek. Zayn looks shocked, but neither of them see.
“Come on, do you want to dance?” Louis asks.
The school have hired a wizard band to play, and wizard music is actually really weird. Fortunately, it’s the kind of weird that Harry and Louis can jam the fuck out to, and they do. It’s a few songs in before they realise that this song is actually doing weird wizard covers of Muggle songs, and Louis is yelling along passionately. Harry, coming from a wizard family, knows none of the words and just laughs instead.
“When I’m with you baby! I go out of my head, and I just! Can’t! Seem! To! Get! E-nough of!” Louis yells, loud and out of tune and at the wrong time, pissing off several people around him. He’s a pink-faced mess at the end of the song, and Harry commands that he sit down and have a drink. He disappears, leaving Louis sat at a table to catch his breath. While he’s doing so, Ed Sheeran drops down beside him. He’s holding that little yellow guitar of his.
“You and Harry came together, then?” he asks, having to raise his voice over the music. Louis just nods. “I figured. You guys aren’t actually a couple yet, are you?”
“Yet?” Louis asks. Ed just grins and swerves away from the topic.
“Have I told you yet? The school want me to play a couple of songs next.” he says, chest swelling with obvious pride. Louis gapes.
“Wow, seriously? That’s amazing! Congratulations, man!” he says, giving him a hearty pat on the back. At that moment, Harry returns with Butterbeer. “Thanks, love.” Louis says.
“I wrote all the songs I’m gonna play, you should come and dance to them!” Ed says. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see ya mate!” Louis says, and takes a sip of his beer. “That’s the stuff.” he moans.
At the teacher’s table, Malfoy is observing closely. Ed Sheeran winks at him, and Malfoy winks back. His plan had better work.
“If this doesn’t get them together, I lose all hope.” he says.
“Hear, hear!” says Professor Longbottom. They clink their glasses and chug their wine.
The Ball isn’t exactly winding down, but most people need to catch their breath from the vigorous dancing to the Muggle/wizard cover band that’s just come off, and Ed’s songs are all slow and sweet. Louis can see Liam, Stan, and Niall all dancing with their female partners, and the occasional flash of gold tells Louis that Zayn is probably on the floor, too. Professor Longbottom and Professor Malfoy managed to get pretty drunk at some point, and they’ve been dancing a sloppy foxtrot in a corner for the last twenty minutes even though at no point in the evening has a suitable song been played.
Ed is winding down his second song now, a cute song about calling his girlfriend his little bird. Ed doesn’t have a girlfriend, so Louis does wonder who inspires all these beautiful loves songs. Harry tugs on Louis’ sleeve and he sets down the jam tart he was munching.
“This song is called Friends, and it’s about two of mine.” Ed announces with a smile, and the crowd clap and cheer.
“Do you want to dance, Louis?” Harry asks. Louis smiles and takes Harry’s hand, and Ed strums a new chord as they take a place on the dance floor.
Harry’s hand slides onto his blue brocade-sheathed waist, and the other lands at the junction of his shoulder and neck.
“What are you doing?” Louis murmurs, but it’s not in a way that asks Harry to stop. It’s rhetorical, and in a hushed tone only for Harry to hear. Louis moves his own hands into a similar position, and the two sway slowly. Louis meets Harry’s eyes, and the lighting around them and the ice-themed decorations makes them sparkle.
“Harry, I’ve got to tell you something.” Louis says.
“Me too.” Harry replies, and Louis frowns. They’ve moved closer together, their noses less than an inch apart. Harry’s staring at Louis’ lips now; Louis remains unaware because he’s doing the same thing.
“The Amortentia.” Louis mumbles. “I could smell you.” he whispers, and closes his eyes.
“Good.” Harry whispers back. “I could smell you too.”
"You know what that means, right?" he asks, hesitant and hopeful. He feels Harry nod, then lean away and tap his shoulder.
When Louis opens his eyes Harry’s smiling, but he’s not smiling at Louis. He’s looking at something above their heads, and Louis realises that while they were slow-dancing, Harry has, at some point, manoeuvred them underneath a sprig of mistletoe dangling in mid air.
“Cheeky.” Louis says, then seals their lips together. It’s Louis’ first kiss and it’s perfect. Harry tastes of spiked cocoa, and his lips are soft. His big hand cradles the back of Louis’ head, and Louis gently twists his hand in Harry’s curls. The kiss ends when Louis is smiling too wide to be able to kiss, and Harry’s started giggling.
“You know I’ve wanted to do that since we met on the train?” he confesses.
“I didn’t know I was in love with you until last week.” Louis says. Harry’s smile grows wider.
“You’re in love with me?”
“Of course I am.”
“I love you.” Harry says earnestly. Louis’ heart swells.
“I love you, too. Now kiss me, you fool.” Louis says, and joining their lips again is as easy as breathing. If it doesn’t last long because they’re smiling so much, well. That’s the opposite of a problem.
(this feels like falling in love
like falling in love
falling in love.)