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Chapter Text

Louis takes note of the cars lining the drive at Pembley House — five or six shiny posh numbers — and it’s nearly enough to send him back the way he came. He knew to expect the Styles-Steffords to have company, especially on a night like Christmas Eve. He grew up in this house — and still owns a key to the front door. So, he’s not a stranger to their way of life or a stranger in general, but lately, that’s how he feels.

He hesitates for a while on the pavement, then considers the gift bag in his backpack and says, “Fuck it.”

He rings the doorbell instead of using the key tucked away somewhere in his wallet. It’s awkward, but entering the home unannounced when he hasn’t visited in several months would likely be worse. Entering the home of a prominent and powerful witch coven unannounced is also just incredibly stupid.

The door swings open and to his utter disappointment, it’s Adrianne who greets him. He was hoping it’d be Harry or one of his younger siblings.

It’s odd how much different Harry’s mum looks and feels to Louis in that moment, even dressed as usual in an elegant black gown. She never felt like a mother to him, but he felt that she at least cared for him. His benevolent aunt, perhaps. Now, he’s not so sure.

Her crystal earrings shimmer in the porchlight. Her red lipsticked mouth morphs into a strained smile. “Louis,” she says. “Hi, dearest.”

She noticeably doesn’t step aside for him to enter.

“You didn’t lose your key, did you?”

“I might’ve, sorry,” says Louis.

“We can have another cut for you,” Adrianne says, waving off his apology. Louis suspects she won’t be doing that. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you. It’s been such a long time. I worried, of course, but Harry said you had an internship all summer or something.”

An internship. Interesting.

“Right, yeah,” Louis says. He doesn’t care that she can likely detect he’s lying. All seasoned witches have enough premonition to tell a lie from a truth. But Louis is sure Adrianne already knew there was no internship. There’s a real reason he hasn’t been “home” in a while and it’s pretty obvious what that reason is.

Surely, she can see the new silvery tint to his blue irises and the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaw. He’s careful not to smile too widely lest she notice his slightly pronounced canines. None of these features were true of him back in May, the last time he graced the steps of Pembley.

To be clear, Louis has always been different, but his differences used to be acceptable. Tolerable, even.

The combined covens who occupy Pembley House — the Styles-Steffords — are by far the oldest and most powerful witches in the town of Elmsmere. And they are notorious for many things: their centuries-old monopoly of the town’s council, for one. Their affluence. And their hatred of vampires, demons and humans. 

It’s due to their influence that Pembley, not just the house but the neighbourhood where it resides, only harbours witches. At the local schools Louis went to from his primary through secondary years, there were only witches. And even in Elmsmere’s other neighbourhoods, populated by vampires or demons — Dracsmyth and Dominic’s Crossing, respectively — there are witches running the businesses, operating leadership positions, in law enforcement, and generally being a domineering menace to any and all townsfolk.

To the Styles-Steffords, witches run the world. And the only reason they keep the rest of civilization around is because if they didn’t, there’d be no one to control.

Louis knows this all first-hand. Because he was raised by these people. And because he also happens to be a vampire.

One might ask how such an arrangement could exist. But that’s a long story with a developing ending.

“Is Harry here?” Louis asks.

“Yes, but— We just have some company over,” Adrianne says.

Louis nods. “It’s fine. Could you just tell Harry—”

“Louis.”

Adrianne turns to face Harry at the foot of the stairwell. It’s not Louis’ imagination the way her face falls as Harry marches to the door to join them.

“We’re going to head upstairs,” Harry says to his mum.

“I was just about to serve dessert,” Adrianne says.

“I’ll have some later. Thanks, though,” Harry says, taking Louis’ wrist. He pulls him towards the stairwell. Louis doesn’t look back as he takes the first step. He can still feel Adrianne watching him. He hears the front door finally swing shut and then the sound of her heels getting farther and farther away.

At the landing, Harry releases Louis’ wrist. “Didn’t expect to see you until after hols.”

“That’s pretty much what your mum just said,” Louis says. “It’s Christmas Eve. I figured I owed you a visit.”

“You don’t have plans with your new vampire friends?” Harry asks.

“No,” Louis says. “But I can leave if this is too much of a surprise?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. He tries to recover from that accidental show of enthusiasm by scowling. “Come on.”

Louis follows Harry to his room. He tries to ignore the door to the room that used to be his own. Maybe Harry’s family still regards it as Louis’ room, but he can’t bring himself to do the same.

“Is everyone here?” Louis asks.

“Pretty much,” Harry says. “Rob and Julie. Chris, Aimee, the twins. Nan’s having a nap.”

“Seems like a smaller crowd than usual,” Louis notes.

“We’ve still got a few more aunts and uncles on their way. I’m sure by tomorrow it’ll be a circus.”

“That’s more like it,” Louis says. “A circus is what we’re used to.”

Harry looks as though he wants to smile, but resists. He’s not planning to make this easy then. “Gemma went out. I considered going with her, but I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t.”

He says so with a pointed glance at Louis and a tone that suggests Louis should be grateful. And Louis is, to be fair, but there’s only so much cheek he can tolerate.

“I can still leave and let you get on with that,” Louis says. “I’m sure it’s not too late to join her.”

“No,” Harry says again. He tugs Louis by the arm further into his room. “Just get in here.”

Louis slips his backpack off his shoulder while Harry shuts his door and raises the volume on his record player. They always did so, growing up, to keep Harry’s nan or Gemma or anyone else from listening in on them. Not that they ever had anything particularly confidential to discuss, but from the ages of seven to seventeen, everything they spoke about felt confidential. Girls, teachers, the future…

Louis pulls the gift bag from his backpack and when Harry turns around, he holds it out.  

Harry’s whole face lights up, fittingly, like a Christmas tree. He hurries to snatch the bag. “You got me a gift.”

“You sound surprised. Meaning you didn’t get me one?” Louis asks, his brows arched. “I think I’ll have that back.”

Harry shields his gift from Louis’ reach. He crosses the room where he opens the door to his cupboard. There, he reaches up to the top shelf and withdraws a gift box. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you, but— For you,” he says, with a stupid bow of his head. “Can I open this now?”

“I’m opening mine now,” Louis says as he takes a seat on the ground beside Harry’s bed. Harry parks next to him and watches him while chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Louis tears Harry’s neat wrapping paper from the box and wrangles the box top off. There’s a jumper inside, white with checkerboard-patterned lettering and a smiling skull insignia below those letters. ‘Dead Man’s Social’, it reads. Then, ‘Brighton, UK’. Louis pulls the jumper into the open and holds it aloft. He notices something else in the box and finds a vinyl record, which is fitting because Dead Man’s Social, the first pub they ever visited on their own, sold pizza, beer and most importantly — to Harry, anyway — vinyl records.

The record Harry’s purchased for him is an old Red Hot Chili Peppers one and Louis’ pick for their best of all time: Californication. More importantly, there’s a label on the front of the packaging that reads, ‘Signed’.

Louis looks at Harry. “What the fuck,” he says, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s. “This is fucking sick. The jumper too.”

Harry’s smile grows to match Louis’. “I was in Brighton a month or so ago. I meant to just get the jumper.”

“Which would’ve been enough for me,” Louis says. He lifts the album out of the box. “How much did this cost?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. And when Louis refuses to look away or concede, he sighs and says, “Less than 100 quid.”

That isn’t exactly chump change considering they’re lowly university students. Harry’s family is filthy rich, but to Louis, it’s more money than he’d dish out in one go.

“Just wanted you to have something to remember me by,” Harry says, which speaks for both the jumper and the album. Louis can recall almost every part of their night stuffing their faces with pizza, drinking so many pints that they swore off both pizza and beer the following day (which didn’t last, obviously). He remembers listening to their shared playlist almost every day after school with Harry, featuring songs from Californication and hundreds of other great hits. When he thinks of Dead Man’s Social or any of the songs they loved there, he thinks of Harry.

Louis doesn’t respond to that, though. He tucks both gifts back into the box and says, “Thank you, Haz. I’ll have to get a record player for real now.”

“We’ve probably got a spare one around here you can take,” Harry says.

But Louis has entered the phase of his life where he’d rather not take any further handouts from Harry’s family, even something as innocuous as a record player.

“Open mine,” Louis says.

Harry digs into the gift bag and withdraws a large velvet jewellery box. His brows sink into a crease and he looks at Louis for a clue or something, but Louis rolls his eyes and says, “Just open it.”

Harry pops the box open. Inside is a silver watch, one Harry immediately recognises. “Louis, I can’t take this,” he says. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Something to remember me by,” Louis says.

“This is your grandfather’s watch,” Harry says, as if Louis doesn’t know. “This is the only thing you have of your family’s.”

“I’ve never worn it. Maybe one day, I’ll be the kind of person who wears watches and fancy rings,” Louis says, flicking one of the rings adorning Harry’s fingers. “But until then, you can hold onto it for me.”

“What if I never want to give it back?”

Louis shrugs. “I’d have to live with that,” he says. “If you hate it, you don’t have to wear it.”

“No, I love it,” Harry says and to prove it, he begins strapping the watch to his wrist. “I always have.”

With the watch fastened, he holds his wrist out, showing it off.

“When you decide you want it back, just say. I’ll keep it safe till then,” Harry says.

Louis nudges his shoulder against Harry’s. “I know you will,” he says, although they both know Louis doesn’t intend to ask for the watch back. “I’m getting a job near campus. Next year, I’ll be able to get you something nicer.”

“Lou, I mean it. I love this watch. And it’s a great gift,” Harry says. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Louis says, the two of them sharing a small smile, and the gentlest moment they’ve had in months.

“Where’ve you been staying?” Harry asks.

“With someone from my Economics class. His name is Zayn.”

“A vampire?”

Louis glances at Harry. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know why you say vampire so suspiciously. I’m a vampire, Harry.”

“I know that. There’s nothing wrong with vampires,” Harry says. “Anyway, you should come by tomorrow. If you don’t have plans.”

Louis pretends to rub at a scuff mark on the toe of his sneakers. “I don’t even need food anymore.”

“That’s alright. You can just come for the company.”

“Maybe,” Louis says. He feels Harry looking at him. “I don’t know, Haz. I’ll see.”

“You either have plans or you don’t,” Harry says, tactfully

“I don’t,” Louis says. “But I also don’t need them.”

“So, you’d rather be alone than be here,” Harry concludes. Louis doesn’t feel like arguing and it’s not like Harry’s statement is false, so he says nothing at all. Neither does Harry, at least for the next minute or two.

“I feel like this is it,” says Harry, so matter-of-factly that Louis looks at the television, expecting him to be pointing out an advert or something equally inconsequential. “I don’t need a gift next Christmas. I think I’ll be lucky if I see you at all.”

Louis puts his forehead in his palm. “Come on, Haz. Us sitting together in your room isn’t the same as me sitting around the dining table with your family, pretending to fit in. That’s all.”

“Pretending? Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“It’s what you just said. My family’s never treated you like you’re different.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Are you joking? Just now, your mum looked at me like I had ten heads. Thanks for telling her about my ‘internship’, by the way. Where exactly is it that I’m interning, Harry?”

“How else was I supposed to explain why you weren’t here even once all summer or fall?”

“I don’t know, did you try telling them the truth?” Louis asks. “It’s not like they haven’t figured it out already. I’ve got these” — he points at his canines — “to make things pretty clear. All it takes is one look to know I’m full-fledged now.”

“Having fangs doesn’t explain why you’ve been MIA.”

“No, but being lied to my whole life does.”

Harry has no rebuttal for that and they both know it.

“Even if they did treat me like one of you, the fact is I’m not. I am different,” Louis goes on. “I feel different. Blood lust changes everything. You’ve got no idea what it’s like.”

“Why don’t you try telling me, then?” Harry asks. “I want to understand.”

“Right now,” Louis begins. “I can hear your blood racing through your body. I can fucking smell it. Your heart just skipped a beat hearing that. And now, you’re trying to control your breathing, I can hear that too—”

“Okay,” Harry says. “Thanks, I think I get it.”

“You’re also starting to sweat.”

Harry curls his arms over his chest and tucks his hands under his armpits. “Christ. Is it bad?” he asks. “Do I smell?”

“You’re fine,” Louis says. It’s hard to describe Harry’s scent lately, but it’s absolutely not bad. Before his vampire awakening, Louis would say Harry always smelled of the peppermint and tea tree shampoo he used and laundry detergent. Now, he mostly smells sweet. Like some fresh, forbidden fruit. Like if Louis sunk his teeth into him, the juice would come running and never stop.

Louis exhales a calming, meditative breath. “I feel completely different now. And it’s a lot to come to terms with, that’s all.”

Harry stares at the telly for a bit, his jaw locked. After a while, his gaze lowers to a random spot on the floor. He draws his knee closer to his chest and rests his chin atop it. “Do you blame me?” he asks quietly.

“What?”

“It’d be fine if you did. I blame myself,” Harry says. “If I hadn’t let you feed—”

“No,” Louis says quickly. His urgency is two-fold. He wants to reassure Harry, of course. But the greater reason is that he still can’t navigate the topic of feeding with Harry without feeling like his heart will stop or his throat will shrivel up.

That’s how it’s been since May. The last several months have felt like a millennium and every second of that time, Louis thinks about blood or Harry. When he thinks about blood, he thinks about Harry. When he thinks about Harry, he thinks of blood.

But that’s not Harry’s fault.

No one told Louis that feeding would awaken his need for blood. Or his ability to lift a car or tear a tree from the ground. Or his increased speed. It was up to the people who raised Louis — Harry’s mum or dad or nan — to explain his true nature to him. Instead, they omitted how powerful he could one day be. They told him that not every vampire needed blood — a grave lie, he knows now. And that, in fact, the need for blood was a gateway to darkness, to killing innocent people and destroying lives.

Even back then, it sounded extreme to him. Surely not every vampire in the world killed and destroyed with abandon. It would be better if he did feel the urge for blood, so he could prove to the world — and to his adoptive family — that he could control it. But years and years went by and the urge never came. Louis began to wonder whether he truly was a defective vampire. Maybe being raised by witches had screwed up his wiring.

But then came The Incident.

“We didn’t know,” Louis says simply.

“They didn’t tell us,” Harry says, seeming to have read Louis’ mind, although that’s not one of Harry’s abilities, thankfully. As far as Louis knows, Harry can occasionally see the future and — if he hones his skills enough — one day travel time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Louis reiterates. “None of it was your fault.”

“I’m the one who insisted on you feeding,” Harry says.

Louis wishes Harry would insist now. He glances at Harry’s wrist, resting on his knee. If Louis allows himself to listen, he can hear the steady thrum of blood there. For a second, he can’t peel his eyes away. The skin is thin and nearly translucent, veins a soft subtle blue. His fangs would pierce so easily, it might not even hurt.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and his hands into fists. “We should stop talking about this.”

“Why? ‘Cause you don’t want to admit it’s true? I always take things too far. I took it too far.”

Louis stands. He needs a bit of space. He needs fresh air. “Harry, I was fucking dying .”

Harry looks down at his own palms, dragging his thumb down his lifeline. His heartbeat quickens. Louis can smell the cold sweat as it comes over Harry’s skin.

“If it weren’t for you,” Louis says. “I’d be dead.”

“I know,” says Harry.

If not for Harry, Louis might not’ve survived childhood.

He was always inexplicably sickly. Not bedridden or otherwise incapacitated, but the older he got, the weaker he felt. He was prone to flus and colds. He got migraines. He was occasionally lethargic. Harry’s nan and mum would concoct all sorts of stews, potions, anodynes and teas. And that would help. But it was Harry who secretly resorted to blood magic to conduct the most effective healing spells — pricking his palm, pressing his bloodied hand into a handwritten sigil, and reading from one of the grimoires he was specifically told never to touch. It was Harry who subconsciously knew that blood was the most powerful healing agent of all.

Early in spring, Louis got the mother of all flus, a cough that wouldn’t leave him and soon enough, began to develop asthma. Nothing he tried made him any better. He was losing weight and an appetite. Harry’s nan called in a local healer and the spells would keep him going, but several nights, he would wake in a panic, struggling to breathe and convinced that any second, he would die.

After a month of worsening symptoms, it was Harry who asked, ‘What if you need blood?’

At first, Louis thought Harry meant another forbidden spell, but he hated to see Harry prick himself over and over. He had tiny scars on his palm from all the spells he’d done lately and Louis hated it. “I don’t think it’s working,” he said, pausing mid-sentence because of a hacking cough.

Harry handed him his water bottle and waited until he’d settled. “No, I mean, what if you need to feed?”

Louis laughed. Then a second later, seeing Harry was serious, he laughed again, this time with a nervous pitch. “If I needed blood, I’d know by now. If I’m not craving it, I don’t need it.”

That’s what he’d been told.

Harry whipped out the pocket knife he used for his spells and pressed the blade into his wrist anyway, always with a point to prove. Louis wanted to write it off as another of their childish debates to settle who was right and who was wrong, but this was bigger than that. He could see the desperation on Harry’s face. He wanted Louis to be better and though blood wouldn’t make him better, Louis had to rule it out for Harry to see.

Which isn’t at all what happened.

Louis doesn’t like to think about the way Harry’s blood flooded his system or set his nerve endings alight for obvious reasons. It’s crazy how one moment — a moment Louis has henceforth referred to as ‘The Incident’ in his head —  can alter your whole life.

When their eyes meet, it’s that moment on both their minds.

“I’m alive ‘cause of you and that’s the end of it,” Louis says, curtly. “You wanted to help and you did.”

“True,” Harry says quietly. “I mean…everyone thinks you’re ten times hotter than before. It’s just like Twilight. Being a full-fledged vampire turns you into a god.”

That shocks a laugh out of Louis. “Haven’t heard anyone calling me a god.”

“Good. We wouldn’t want that getting to your head,” Harry says, with a small smile.

Louis has noticed that people in Elmsmere look at him differently now. Growing up, he was surrounded almost entirely by witches and a few demons here and there who did work for the family. He was most often looked at with disdain or simply ignored. These days, especially in the vampire circles Louis runs with now, there’s always someone vying for his attention. Even the younger witches and demons in Elmsmere have lustful eyes on him. He doesn’t know what to make of all that. It’s just one more thing about his life that’s changed this year.

“I think it’s important that you know who you are,” Harry says suddenly, picking at the bed of his nails the way he does when he’s nervous. “I’m not bothered that you’ve made new friends. Or that you’re trying to understand your vampire side or whatever. It bothers me that you won’t let me be a part of it.”

“You say that like I’ve joined an exclusive club or something,” Louis says. “It’s a bit hard to include you in this, that’s all. We can’t do everything together, Harry.”

“Why not?” Harry asks. “Being different never stopped us before.”

“You can’t go hunting with me, for example, can you?”

“You go hunting now?”

“Vampires hunt. It’s what we do,” Louis says, and doesn’t miss Harry’s exasperated eye roll.

“There’s actually no reason I can’t go,” Harry says. “I’ve gone hunting with my mum before.”

“It’s not quite the same thing if you use a rifle,” Louis says.

“What about if I use a bow and arrow?” Harry asks, sardonically. “So, you like your new friends more because they can tackle a deer to the ground?”

“I don’t like them more. I never said that.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry says.

Louis notes the flush of Harry’s face and ears. Admittedly, it’s distracting, but it also hurts. He sees Harry’s subtle pout and wishes he weren’t responsible for it. There used to be a time he could make Harry laugh and smile like no one else could. He doubts that’s still the case..

“I mean it,” Louis says. “It’s different with them, but it’s not better. It’s not even fun half the time.”

Most of the vampires Louis has met at UCL are boring and uptight. They snort so much cocaine and somehow it never gets them hyped like it should. Instead, they get even more introspective. They’re all purebloods like Louis, although they were raised by pureblood families. Hearing Louis’ background both intrigued and repelled them. In the end, it was Zayn, the only interesting one of the bunch, who vouched for Louis and kept inviting him around.

“Your new friends aren’t much fun either,” Louis says. “And I don’t think they’re the biggest fans of mine.”

“Then I’ll get rid of them.”

“What?”

“You get rid of your boring vampire friends. I’ll get rid of my judgemental witch friends. We don’t need them,” Harry says. “We can figure this all out together. We’ve always done fine, just the two of us.”

Louis hesitates, his gaze drifting away. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“How’s it complicated?”

Recently, Louis learned about how bloodlust is often tied to regular lust. The reason a vampire tends to crave a particular person goes beyond the taste of their blood. He could’ve gone without learning all that, though. Because it’s left him to wonder why he craves Harry more than anything or anyone else. And why it’s so hard to tell him this:

“I have a girlfriend.”

Louis says it like one might confess to cheating. Or committing fraud. Which makes sense because when he says it, he feels like a fraud.

Harry goes on staring at him for several silent seconds. Then he looks away entirely. He angles his body away, even. “Congrats,” he says. “And thanks for sparing the time to stop in.”

“Harry—”

“You should just go,” Harry says, resting his cheek on his knee again.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I said congrats. Did you want me to throw you a party too?”

“Why are you being a dickhead now? It’s not like we can’t still be friends. Having a girlfriend doesn’t mean you’re any less important to me.”

Harry lifts his head. “Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?” he asks to Louis’ utter annoyance and dismay. “You don’t think it’s a bit weird that you avoided telling me about her in the first place? That you think you have to reassure me when you’ve started seeing someone?”

“‘Cause you’re clearly fucking upset.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird I’m upset?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know!” But Louis would rather not think about it. “You’ve got someone new every other month. I never throw a fit about it.”

Harry narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you telling me you don’t have a girlfriend yourself?”

“I don’t,” Harry says.

“Alright, sure, yeah.”

Harry goes on glaring at him. “The last time I was with a girl,” he says. “Do you know what happened?”

Louis doesn’t want to think about that either. “Enlighten me,” he says tiredly.

“I thought about you,” Harry says. For a second, neither of them says a thing more. They let that simmer between them and when it’s done, as if a timer has gone off, Harry leans in and kisses him.

+

Louis was three when the Styles-Steffords came for him, although he doesn’t remember much from that time.

Growing up, all he had were the stories. 

Most preternaturals within Elsmere and beyond can tell you a little about Louis’ parents, although Josephine and Paul were notorious for many things excluding their parenting. The two — now deceased — purebloods operated the largest and longest-running vampire crime syndicate in Europe, guilty of misdeeds ranging from torture to murder to extortion to good ole’ tax fraud. It didn’t leave a whole lot of time for raising a son.

Everyone can tell you about Harry’s family too, head of Elsmere’s Council for over a hundred generations and the antithesis to the Tomlinsons in every way. The two families were constantly at odds. Harry’s family was constantly in pursuit of Louis’. And so it was only a matter of time before Harry’s grandfather finally locked Louis’ parents away at Els Edge Prison.

And anyone in Elsmere had to live under a fucking rock to miss the explosion at Els Edge that killed nearly every prisoner, including Louis’ parents shortly thereafter.

Some say the explosion was caused by Louis’ parents themselves, trying to escape and activating the self-destructive magical reinforcements in the process.

But that’s purely speculation.

What’s fact is that for whatever reason — perhaps to appear like the true, good and noble witches they claimed to be — the Styles-Steffords adopted Louis. Not legally, but they gave him his own room at Pembley. They fed him. They clothed him. They convinced him he was only half a vampire and that half didn’t matter.

These days, it’s hard for Louis to look back on his childhood with fondness as opposed to suspicion. These days, he questions everything.

But that doesn’t make him any less certain of Harry. It doesn’t erase the years they spent glued to each other’s sides, conquering each other’s bullies, laughing at each other’s jokes when no one else did. It doesn’t mean Louis cares any less or misses him any less.

It means that figuring out his place in the world now means figuring out how to keep Harry in it, though he’s not doing the greatest job of that so far.

Chapter Text

There’s something in the air in Elmsmere that has little to do with the town’s perpetual fog.

Walking the cobbled streets from the bus stop to Pembley, Louis does so with the distinct feeling that he’s being watched. When his boots meet the ground, the sound ricochets, but the extra footstep he periodically hears is inexplicable. He whips around but sees nothing. He breathes the air in deeply, but the smell is as usual: a bit fishy and damp due to the reservoir that buttresses the town.

The fog is also due to the reservoir and to Elmsmere’s low elevation, but the rumour — and the town has plenty — is that long ago, a great tribune of witches summoned the haze to shroud the town from mortal eyes. It sounds like something the witches would do.

Louis decides to quicken each step he takes to Harry’s, practically jogging the rest of the way. He’s still getting accustomed to how quickly his body moves these days, but he’s more than a little relieved when he reaches the sprawling black manor within a matter of seconds. He takes another quick scan of the dimly lit pavement he left behind, but there’s no one there.

“Louis!” Cole shouts, spotting him immediately from the porch. Around him are at least ten other kids Harry and Louis grew up with and several new faces too. He can hear the music going, loud and thumpy, and concludes there are at least a few dozen more dancing inside the home. All of them preternaturally endowed. As much as Harry considers himself a friend of the world, he wouldn’t go inviting any of the humans he’s met at uni into his coven’s ancestral abode. Even the presence of demons and vampires here is a little taboo, but it’s 2024. Eventually, Harry’s ancestors will have to get over it.

Cole steps away from the girl he’s chatting with to throw his arm over Louis’ shoulders. “You look like you ran here.”

Louis pushes his hand through his windblown hair as they step inside the house. “Getting some exercise in, that’s all,” he says.

“Pregaming with cardio,” Cole says. “Good on you, mate.”

Louis feels his phone vibrate and digs into his pocket for it. He sees ‘Clair’ and hesitates to read on.

‘Zayn says you’re going to a party tonight. without your gf?’

Louis is far too sober for this. ‘just checking in on a friend. i won’t stay long’

‘so i’m not invited?’

Louis groans aloud and shuts his eyes momentarily.

“Trouble with the missus?” Cole asks.

“I guess,” Louis says. Without thinking, he quickly types: ‘you can come if you want. it’s at pembley.’

Clair replies with a string of scandalised emojis. Vampires outside of Elsmere don’t understand the control witches hold over the town or why any vampires would opt to continue living under said control. They wouldn’t be caught dead partying with witches (or demons or wolves for that matter). They know of the Styles-Steffords and they’ve heard of Louis’ family, but when Clair heard Louis was raised under the former’s roof, she physically shivered. “The trauma,” she’d said. “I can’t imagine it.”

Louis can’t explain to any of them that until The Incident, he genuinely enjoyed his upbringing, thanks, in no small part, to Harry. Yes, he was sick all the time. Yes, he occasionally felt like the odd one out. But he had Harry and he wishes there was a way to explain to his new girlfriend that Harry is all he’s ever needed to be happy.

Right, there’s definitely no way he can explain that.

Aside from the emojis, there’s no further response from Clair, so Louis pockets his phone. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he says to Cole, and makes his way through the small crowd at the entryway and further into the house.

The Christmas decorations are still up, of course, and bountiful: thick verdant garlands on the stair railings, swags adorning the mirrors lining the hallway, and two massive Christmas trees in the east and west parlours. It’ll all stay until after New Year’s when Harry’s family is back in town.

At the end of every year, most witch matriarchs travel to Turkey, to the seat of ancient Lagina where the temple of Hecate still resides. They make offerings and pray and such for blessings and goodwill in the coming year. And with the home empty, Louis should’ve expected Harry to throw a party. He’s a lot like his mum in that way. He loves to host.

But Louis also doesn’t know what to expect of Harry anymore.

He’s drawn into a conversation or two before he makes it to the kitchen. When he finally does, he lingers at the entryway, taking a furtive gander of the room. When he doesn’t spot Harry, he sighs in relief, then feels like an arsehole about it. He’s not avoiding him, obviously. He wouldn’t have come here if he was. He just hasn’t figured out what he’ll say when he sees him. He needs a second to figure it out. And a drink.

“Louis!” shouts Elliot, one of the demons Harry keeps in his circle. Internally, Louis cringes. Now everyone in the vicinity — like Harry, maybe — will know he’s here. 

Louis quickly steps into the kitchen so the other boy will be forced to lower his voice.

Elliot shoves a beer into his hand. “Glad you made it.”

“You sound surprised,” Louis says.

“Harry said you probably wouldn’t come,” Elliot says. 

“Wasn’t aware Harry kept my itinerary.”

Although before The Incident, you could count on Louis to be everywhere Harry was and vice versa.

Elliot narrows his eyes at Louis. Leave it to a demon to do so in the most slithering calculated way possible. Louis can see the sinister wheels turning in his head already. By tomorrow, this whole conversation will be next week’s gossip fodder.

“I hear you’ve been hitting up the blood lounge down the street from UCL. I don’t think I ever saw you visit the blood lounge in Elmsmere,” Elliot slurs. “I can’t really imagine the Styles-Steffords providing you with your own private blood bank either.”

Louis blinks at him. “And?”

Elliot shrugs. “Well…it’s obvious your vampire was dormant until recently. I mean, you look like a whole new person.”

Louis tries not to keep company with demons because of their particular brand of divination. They’re not psychic in the way that witches are, but their proclivity to maliciousness and deceit makes them supernaturally attuned to those traits in other beings. In other words, lying to a demon is never the most sound strategy.

So, Louis doesn’t lie. “That’s right,” he says. He flashes his fangs. “New and improved.”

Elliot smiles. “I bet that’s caused a little riff with the fam, no?”

“You think?” Louis says, his brow cocked.

Elliot has a sip of beer, spilling a bit on himself. He drags his hand across his mouth. “I mean, it was all cute when we were kids…them taking you in. And growing up, same thing. Everyone loved you and Haz. You threw the sickest parties. But it was never gonna last, was it? People notice things, Louis. Especially in a place like this. You never played sports ‘cause you couldn’t keep up. You took all those sick days. Realistically, they must’ve kept you off blood for as long as they could. Now you’ve gone full vamp—” He tsks, has another sip, and looks at Louis pitifully. “My advice, you’ll never get along with a bunch of stuffy, pretentious—”

Louis sets his beer down on the countertop with a thud and takes a cool step closer to Elliot. “Let me stop you there,” he says, his voice low, steady. He sets his hand on the demon’s shoulder. “I knew you liked kissing Harry’s arse, but I never knew you were obsessed with me too. Did you want me to join the swim team that badly? You should’ve said. I would’ve kept up just fine.”

“That’s not—”

“No? What is it, then? ‘Cause I always thought you fancied Harry or something with the way you’d follow him around. But here you are talking shit about him. Maybe being a snake is just typical for your kind?”

With a nervous laugh, Elliot says, “This is my fifth beer of the night, mate. I’ve got no clue what I’m saying.”

“But you sounded so confident a second ago,” Louis says. “You know, ever since my vampire awakened, I find I’m a lot less patient. A lot less tolerant of dickheads like you.”

“Mate—”

“We’re not mates,” Louis says. With a firm squeeze of the demon’s shoulder, he drops his hand and retrieves his beer bottle. “But thanks for serving me a beer in my own bloody home.”

And no, Pembley doesn’t feel like home anymore, but Elliot doesn’t need to know that.

Louis doesn’t wait for a response before leaving the kitchen. In the corridor, he takes a discreet whiff of the air with newfound resolve. The thing is he doesn’t care much what others think of him. He grew up with strangers whispering behind his back every now and then, betting on whether he’d follow the dark path his parents set out for him. He’s used to people thinking the worst of him. He used to call this place home, but he knows not everyone felt he belonged here. And that’s all fine.

But he wouldn’t want anyone thinking poorly of Harry, thinking of him as stuffy or pretentious, or spreading rumours about him. So, if Elliot has caught on to their riff and formed such conclusions, it’s likely others have to. Meaning Louis should set things right, sooner rather than later.

He follows Harry’s scent all the way to the dining room where there’s a game of beer pong going and a miasma of weed and cigarette smoke clouds his view. He reckons Harry will perform a spell tomorrow to get the smell of that smoke out of his mum’s fancy curtains. He’s got all sorts of spells in his grimoire for menial tasks like that. There’s even a recipe for a hangover potion. The first time he ever made it for Louis, Louis called him a genius.

Maybe, if things go back to normal tonight, tomorrow Louis will wake in his old bedroom and Harry will fix him one of those potions and they’ll smoke a joint in the back garden, just the two of them.

Or not, Louis thinks, when he finally spots Harry and registers the look on his face. He’s not sure what to make of it. He just knows Harry has never looked less happy to see him. After a whole summer and autumn of awkwardness, this is the worst it’s ever felt.

Louis steels himself, his expression hardening, although he came here with every intention of keeping things cool.

Harry rises from the dining chair where he was previously delivering a monologue to a small gathering of worshipful underclassmen. He’s wearing all black as usual. Flowy, loose-fitting clothes that speak to how at ease he always is (except for right now). He approaches Louis and for a second, they just look at each other. Louis doesn't need to look around to confirm they’re being watched.

Louis nods to the hallway, so Harry slips out first. He casts an annoyed glance around the room before stepping out too. He likes for people to know he’s watching them as well and the surveillance goes both ways.

He isn’t really paying attention to where Harry leads him. The sounds from the party grow more and more faint the farther they wander off. The house is purposefully a maze, meant to conceal and obscure all the inner chambers. Louis never really thought about it until after The Incident, but he realises now that despite growing up here, there was plenty he didn’t or wasn’t allowed to know. Navigating the home’s maze often requires magic. Some corridors disappear or reappear only when summoned. But he’s sure that if the Styles-Steffords wanted to enable Louis to move about freely, they could’ve done so. 

When Harry suddenly pushes open an auxiliary door that Louis has never seen in his life and pulls Louis inside, Louis feels rightfully lost…and trapped.

“Don’t think we need anything this private,” Louis says, looking around at what seems to be a forgotten library or storage room.

“I’ve been snooping around the house a lot lately, trying to see if there’s anything else they’re hiding from us,” Harry says. “I found this room a month ago.”

“Uncovered any new secrets?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when I do,” Harry says. “I just thought this would be better for us to talk in private. If that’s what you want?”

“Obviously, Harry. Also, you’ve sort of got me cornered now, so…”

“Seems like it should be harder to corner a full-fledged vampire, no?” Harry asks with a hint of a smile that dissipates when the mood remains sour. “Avoiding me is kind of your MO these days, so maybe cornering you is the only option.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? At a party I wasn’t even invited to.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You have a standing invitation. And it’s not like I don’t want you here, but I also wouldn’t expect you to show up, considering how you left a few days ago.”

‘Fled’ is probably a more precise word for how Louis left a few days ago, but Louis is grateful Harry doesn’t use it. He muttered a hasty ‘bye’ to Adrianne, who was standing once more in the foyer, yanked the front door open and darted into the night.

“But I always want you here, Louis,” Harry says.

“Sure.”

“I posted about it to my close friends.”

Louis’ brows arch. “Is that how I should expect communication from you?” he wonders. “Close friends?”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest defensively. Or maybe he’s just cold. Louis can’t imagine he isn’t with his blouse almost completely unbuttoned and a slight draft in the room. “This is still your home, even if you don’t think of it that way anymore. I don’t actually need to invite you to a party at your own home, do I?”

“If you really thought so, it wouldn’t’ve looked like you shat yourself when I showed up. Your mum wouldn’t’ve tried to kick me out on Christmas Eve. Politely, though, of course.”

Harry’s gaze flitters away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about my mum,” he says. “About my whole family. I’m sorry I lied about you having an internship. I’ve been hoping all year that somehow things would just go back to normal, but they haven’t. And I understand now that it’s never going to be like it was. And I feel like maybe the point is that we have to figure out what the new normal is.”

That at least resonates with Louis. It’s true that they can’t ever go back to before The Incident or even to before the kiss… But they can put it all behind them and start over. “I think so too,” Louis says.

“So, I’ve been trying to work out exactly what to say…” Harry goes on. “About Christmas Eve. About what I did. I think the first step is to try and explain.”

It’s a good thing only one of them can hear the other’s heartbeat because Louis’ heart begins to work double-time. He feels sweat springing to his forehead and neck. “There’s nothing to explain,” he says. “We were obviously worked up.”

Harry narrows his eyes at a random spot across the room as he tries to make sense of that. “We can’t not talk about it. Not if we’re going to move forward. In the right direction, at least.”

“But there’s nothing to talk about,” Louis says. “It was an accident or…whatever. And I’ve still got a girlfriend. And…I mean, I’m not gay.”

Perhaps he should’ve led with that.

“You make it sound like my face fell into your face or something,” Harry says. “I’m not sure how you accidentally kiss someone.”

“I’m saying neither of us was thinking clearly.”

Harry hesitates, then pushes his hair away from his face frustratedly. “Okay, I don’t think I’m gay either ‘cause it’s not like I’ve thought about kissing other boys. Or…well, maybe there were one or two in the past, but I don’t know. I have to talk about it, Louis. I get that this is confusing, but—”

“It’s not. We’re not confused,” Louis says. “We’re not— This isn’t— We’re not into each other or anything.”

“That doesn’t explain the stiffy, but fine.”

Louis knows he’s blushing fiercely now. He only hopes the room is too dimly lit for Harry to notice. He was hoping Harry hadn’t noticed the stiffy. Louis sort of pretended not to notice it either as he fled Pembley that night. Now the thought irates him further. 

“I know it might be hard for you to believe, but not everyone’s trying to fuck you, Harry.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re such an arsehole sometimes,” he says, dragging his hands down his face. “I thought you’d try to make sense of this, but you clearly don’t want to.”

“Make sense of what?”

“This,” Harry says, gesturing between them. “Us, Louis.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Whether I’m gay or not, I know there’s something here. I know I spent the other night scrolling through your girlfriend’s Instagram, fucking comparing myself to her or something. I know I think about you all the time and sometimes my chest hurts when I do. And sometimes I feel sick. Like my stomach is just swimming—”

“Sounds bloody awful,” Louis says, although his own stomach has begun to swim.

Harry huffs, loudly, exasperated. “I get that you’re scared…”

“I’m not scared of anything.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re a big bad vamp now, yeah? Well, I’m scared. ‘Cause I wasn’t drunk. It wasn't an accident. I meant to do it,” Harry says. “And I’d probably do it again.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut. “Why are you trying to ruin things more than they already are?”

“I’m not,” Harry says, his voice gone soft, breathless. “I’m genuinely not. I’ve been trying to fix things all year, I told you…”

“But that’s the opposite of what happens when you find someone new to fuck around with, isn’t it? They hold your interest for a few weeks and then you get bored,” Louis says. “Read the fucking room, mate. Everything’s fucked right now. Everything’s changed. Do you know what people are saying about us? About your family? Now that I’ve changed, you lot want nothing to do with me. They’ve figured it all out.”

“You’re the one who left, Louis!”

“Do you think I had a choice? Once I wasn’t the ideal charity case, your family would’ve pushed me away eventually. You know it, too. So, I’m sorry but I don’t exactly feel like being part of another Styles-Stefford experiment.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m saying,” Louis begins. “If you want to figure out whether you’re into blokes or not, maybe don’t do it with me.”

Harry shoves his hands into Louis’ chest as hard as he can. So Louis shoves him back. The magic in Harry’s body rushes outward until the air is so staticky it stings. The skin on Louis’ arms and the back of his neck horripilate. He feels his fangs sharpen. If looks could kill, they’d have ended each other already.

Then Harry blinks. Alarmingly, Louis realises too late that there are tears building in his eyes.

“I’m done,” Harry says.

Louis doesn’t ask him to clarify because it feels abundantly clear. This is the moment Louis tried to avoid all year. But he’s done it finally. He can tell. He’s lost him.

“I can’t make excuses for my family, Louis. But there’s no excuse for you either," Harry says. "No one could ever make me think less of you. But you did it all on your own. You shut me out. You pushed me away. I’m as good as a blood bag to you. You fed and you tossed me away.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but he suddenly can’t think. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes slipping shut again, as he tries to buy himself another second or two. “Harry—”

Then there’s a subtle draft in the air and when Louis lifts his head, he’s the only one left in the room.

+

Louis somehow finds his way out of the maze that Harry’s led him into and returns to the foyer where he plans to make a hasty exit.

The last time he was here, he doubts that Adrianne thought twice about how he’d left. Perhaps she was even happy that he and Harry seemed to have ended things on poor terms. This time, Louis is sure that by next week, all the students who witness his escape will have plenty to say about it. It’ll lend credence to all those rumours. It’ll be proof that vampires and witches do not make iconic pairs. Not for long anyway.

He reaches the foyer and wonders if he should at least stop and ask Cole for a ride back to the tube. Then, he hears her. Smells her. He turns and there’s Clair, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Oh my God, are you alright?” she asks, casting a glance around them like she’s witnessing animals unleashed from the zoo.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, as if he didn't invite her. He just never expected her to actually come.

“I’m rescuing you,” Clair says.

Louis narrows his eyes in confusion. “I told you I came to see a friend.”

“What kind of friend would agree to meet you here ? At the place where you were starved as a child?”

“Keep your voice down,” Louis says, glancing around.

“Why are you protecting these witches?” Clair asks. “After what they did?”

“Clair,” Louis warns. “Please.”

Clair glances at a point behind Louis, her eyes narrowing into slits. “He’s one of them, isn’t he?”

Louis doesn’t need to look to know Harry is there, but he does anyway. He sees him at the end of the hall, his face utterly emotionless. Louis knows him well enough to sense his emotion anyway. He’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s hurt him in the last week. He takes Clair’s wrist and turns toward the door with her in tow.

“You can’t say those things about them. About him,” Louis says out on the pavement. “I mean it.”

“Again, why on earth are you protecting them?”

“Because he’s important to me,” Louis says.

He thinks he says it in a neutral manner, but suddenly Clair is looking at him like he’s just come out to her — as both gay and a witch-lover. And he realises that there is no neutral way for him to speak about Harry. He doesn’t have neutral feelings about Harry. He loves that Harry is a witch, it’s true. He loves his curiosity about magic and about the world. He loves that Harry often involves Louis in his craft, explaining what he’s doing and why. He’s impressed with him and amazed by him on an average basis because he’s a witch, but also because he’s funny and smart and kind. And beautiful.

And Louis has thought about their kiss every day and night since it happened. He went hunting in the middle of last night and fed on a pigeon because the bloodlust was so bad. Because he can’t stop thinking about Harry.

He covers his face with his hands. “I can’t do this.”

“Us, you mean?” Clair asks.

“That’s not what I said,” Louis says, half-pleading with her and with the universe to cut him some fucking slack.

“I’m going to go,” Clair says. “I’d offer you a ride, but you don’t need rescuing, so— You’ll figure it out.”

“Clair,” Louis says.

“Ring me when you’re done obsessing over your witches, Louis,” Clair says on her way back to her car. He wants to tell her there’s just the one witch he obsesses over and he’s unlikely to ever be done doing so. But that wouldn’t help his case now, would it?

He watches her drive off and doesn’t spare a glance for the kids loitering in the front garden. He’s sure they overheard it all, but he can’t be arsed to care anymore.

He makes his way back down the cobblestone streets he took only an hour prior, his arms curled over his stomach, his eyes on the ground. He’s not zeroed in on his surroundings like he was earlier. He doesn’t hear or see or smell the inscrutable grey figure that appears in his path until they’re only steps away.

“Louis,” the person says and Louis stops short. Before he came into his full power, he likely would have stumbled or even fallen on his arse. As steady and spry as he is these days, he still feels just as frantic as he would’ve then.

“Who is it?” Louis asks, squaring his shoulders, as the person grows even closer and the fog clears in front of them.

Relief floods him at the sight of Harry for several reasons. He’s not about to be ambushed like he momentarily thought. And it looks like he might still have a chance to patch things up. Maybe he’ll apologise outright. He’ll tell Harry how much their friendship means to him. He’ll admit that the other vampires he keeps in his company like to cling to him because they’re opportunistic leeches. But Harry is the only one who listens, who cares.  Louis knows he cares. And he doesn’t want to lose him. That’s what he’ll say. ‘I don’t want to lose you,’ and surely that’ll suffice.

But then something else occurs to Louis. Harry looks…different.

For one, he looks happy .

He’s also somehow taller and leaner. His hair is longer. His jawline is sharper. It’s not that Harry isn’t good-looking (because God knows he is) but the boy standing before Louis is god-like himself, if he’s honest. Not a boy at all, but a man.

“There you are,” Harry declares, his smile growing even bigger.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut momentarily. When he opens them, Harry is three steps closer. Louis takes another unsteady step backwards. “What the fuck,” he breathes.

Understanding lights Harry’s expression. “I must look different.”

“No fucking shit,” Louis says.

“I don’t look bad, do I?” Harry asks, tucking a loose curl behind his ear.

Louis’ gaze sweeps over him from head to toe once more. He definitely doesn’t look bad. “You look ten years older,” he says. “Is this a glamour or what?”

“Forgot how gauche you could be at this age,” Harry says. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

“Right, you’re clearly taking the piss,” Louis decides. “Whatever this is…to be honest, I’m relieved. I could’ve handled things much better just now, I know that. But I’m happy if you’re not still cross, if we can just put all this shit behind us, if we can start over.”

“Oh, I’m still cross,” Harry says. “Well, not me, but the other me. The me you were just talking to is definitely still cross. And very hurt. And if I remember correctly, he’s looking for someone to snog, which will only make him feel worse. ‘Cause it doesn’t compare to kissing you—”

“Alright. You’ve had your laugh, yeah?” Louis says. “You can break whatever spell this is now. And we can talk. I mean it this time. We can talk. And I’ll listen.”

Harry studies him. “And you’ll admit you have feelings for me?”

Louis’ heart and stomach nosedive. “What the fuck…”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Harry says. He reaches for Louis’ hand. Louis feels the magic rushing through his veins. He feels the air compressing and warping around him. Then in a blink, they’re standing in the middle of Harry’s room at Pembley. “Don’t worry. No one can see or hear us.”

Louis is about to ask why that’s necessary when Harry takes Louis’ arm and urges him to turn around. 

And then Louis sees Harry seated at the edge of his bed. Beside him is a girl he’s currently snogging. On his opposite side is a boy. Harry pulls away from the girl. He turns to face his other bedmate and after a second, both boys lean in to kiss.

Louis huffs a laugh. “No surprise here.”

“Hey,” Harry says. And that’s when it hits Louis. He shrinks away from the Harry beside him. He glances at the Harry on the bed. He does it again.

“That’s Little Me,” Harry explains, gesturing to Snogging Harry. “And I’m older me. I am in fact ten years older. Well, eleven, I think, but whatever.”

“What the fuck is this?” Louis hisses.

Harry looks at him and speaks very slowly, very carefully as if Louis is a toddler: “I’m Harry…from the future.”

And alright… Louis is aware of the existence of time travel, but he also knows that only a handful of witches since the beginning of time have achieved it successfully. Very powerful, very seasoned witches. And no offense to Harry, but he’s an adept witch at most, at least in 2023. He’s no master sorcerer.

That said, the new Harry is very clearly more mature, well-built and confident. It’s not hard to imagine that in the next ten or eleven years, his power grows exponentially. Harry’s coven is the most powerful in Elmsmere by far and Harry was always destined to follow suit.

“Okay,” Louis says, exhaling as steadily as he can. “Why? Why are you here?”

“I need your help…in the future. Or I will soon,” Harry says. “And also, you’ve sort of fucked things up here, haven’t you? I think we can help each other.”

“I’m the one who fucked things up? Even though you claim to think about me nonstop but here you are, getting ready for a bloody threesome,” Louis says, gesturing towards the bed.

Harry looks at Louis tiredly. “As I remember it, you were meant to be my best mate and you implied I was a whore who uses people until they bore me.”

“I didn’t say it like that. At all,” Louis says. “You’re the one who said I only cared about your blood.”

“You ignored me for almost a whole year and before that, the last time I truly felt important to you was when you fed, so… if the shoe fits.”

“Fuck this,” Louis says. “I was leaving before you showed up. Think I’ll just get back to that.”

Harry exhales heavily. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s a little confusing to be back here and to remember everything I was feeling in this moment.”

Just then Present Harry moans and Louis gives Future Harry a look. “I think it’s pretty clear how you were feeling.”

With a loud sigh, Harry reaches for Louis’ hand and instantly they’re back on the pavement outside. Louis doesn’t really get cold anymore since coming into his full power, but he feels a chill right then, from the sudden night air and the look Harry pins him with.

“Let’s get some things straight, alright?” Harry says. “You think you know everything about me — about him — but you couldn’t be more wrong. You lost your virginity before I did.”

Louis’ brain sputters momentarily like an engine refusing to start. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got everything to do with everything. You snogged Rachel from Maths so I snogged our tutor, Laura. You fucked Tess, so I fucked the first girl who seemed interested in me. But I wasn’t all that interested. You want to know how things pan out tonight? I get sick all over myself before any of us can even get our kit off. The truth is that by our first year, I’ll’ve slept with one girl, not ten different ones like people seemed to think.”

Louis shakes his head. “There’s no fucking way…”

“You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true,” Harry says. “Yeah, I liked the attention. I liked snogging. I liked distracting myself from the pressure to be Elmsmere’s Golden Boy. But that’s also one of the reasons I loved being around you. There was never any pressure. You never expected anything from me. And at the same time, almost everything I did was about you. Even the failed threesome happening upstairs, whether you believe it or not.”

Louis stares at him, his lips parted around shallow uneven breaths. He turns away from Harry, his hands braced on his hips. “This is a fucking mess,” he says, mostly to the night sky.

“Yeah.” Harry shrugs. “But we’ll fix it together.”

“Do we?” Louis asks. “In the future, do we work this out somehow?”

Harry looks meaningfully at him. “‘Course we do” is all he says. “But that’s not actually why I’m here and it’s not the most critical thing right now. What happens two days from now in the future is.”

“And what happens in two days?”

Harry’s pause is lengthy and solemn. Louis can hear his heartbeat quicken. He knows he won’t like it, whatever it is, but he can’t say he expects it to suck as much as it does.

“You die,” says Harry.

Chapter Text

Travelling to the future is more simple than Louis would’ve expected, but then, Louis doesn’t pay much attention to the logistics. He can’t really think about much else besides dying at the moment.

He’d immediately asked Harry to clarify, but Harry would explain everything later, he said. He needed to focus on getting them to the future before the ‘celestial window’ closed. ‘What’s most important,’ he’d said, ‘is that I can bring you back. And I will.’

By that, he means bring Louis back from the dead, which clarifies absolutely nothing.

Just the thought makes Louis feel faint. Because the thought sounds impossible.

As far as time travel goes, Louis would give anything to travel back in time, back to Christmas Eve. Or even back to that day in the spring when he fed from Harry for the first time. He remembers how powerful and invincible he felt then, but he thinks he’d give that up just for things to be as they used to. Nothing he’s experienced over the last several months has been worth it.

And how powerful or invincible can he really feel when faced with his imminent death?

“Louis,” Harry says. “Did you hear me?”

Louis blinks his way out of his stupor. “What?”

“Things lurk around the celestial window,” Harry says. “When the wind starts, shut your eyes and keep them shut. Making accidental eye contact could invite something to travel with us.”

Louis nods numbly. Harry reaches for his hands and holds them tight.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and Louis must nod again because Harry bows his head and begins chanting an incantation. Up above, the moon is the largest it’s ever been. It looks as though it’s getting closer. Louis knows it’s not big enough to swallow the earth whole, but it could consume him and he thinks he’d probably welcome that.

The decayed leaves at their feet begin to rise in a faint breeze.

“Now,” says Harry. “Don’t open your eyes again until I say.”

Louis shuts his eyes, still seeing the moon’s afterimage in the dark void of his eyelids. He isn’t tempted to open his eyes, but his mind drifts often and he nearly opens them due to forgetfulness. It feels like only a second has passed, but when that second passes, it also feels like it’s been hours. Time seems malleable and immaterial. It’s whatever Louis wants it to be. Or whatever Harry wants rather since he’s the one steering them through it.

The wind is warm as opposed to the cold air they left behind in Elmsmere. He can almost imagine he’s on a beach and nearly forgets himself again to open his eyes and glimpse the ocean. Then the wind stops entirely.

“We’re here,” Harry says. “You can open your eyes now.”

Louis does.

Unsurprisingly, they’re still in Elmsmere, which makes sense, but Louis isn’t sure why he expected Elmsmere to look like an alternate universe. It’s the same as ever. And to their right is the Styles-Stefford manor almost exactly as they left it.

“You still live here?” Louis asks.

“No,” Harry says. “I just had to use it as a reference point since it exists both here in the future and in the past. My parents are still here, though.”

“They haven’t passed it on to you?”

“They tried. I turned it down,” Harry says. “Come on. I didn’t want anyone to notice me, so I parked down the street.”

Louis is left with several more questions, but he suspects that’ll be the theme of his jaunt to the future: perpetual confusion. At the end of the road, Harry rounds the corner. He presses a button on a key fob pulled from his pocket and two headlights flash in the near distance.

They reach a sleek silver Porsche SUV. He gets the passenger door for Louis. “After you, sir.”

Louis exhales a laugh as he climbs inside. “Thanks.”

When Harry shuts his door, Louis uses the four seconds it takes for him to cross over to the driver’s side of the car to investigate the car’s interior. He looks for things like business cards, old receipts, a car seat, but the car is sadly immaculate.

Harry climbs into the driver’s seat. “It’s about a thirty-minute drive to mine,” he says. “I live in West London.”

“Couldn’t you teleport us there?” Louis asks.

“I know I seem like a master witch these days. ‘Cause I kind of am,” Harry says with a smug smile. “But we all run out of power eventually, no matter how powerful we are. I needed to conserve every bit of magic to get to the past and to get back with you.” He starts up his music, adjusts the heating, and pulls the car away from the curb. “Also, I just like to drive.”

The first minute or so is silent and slightly awkward. They narrowly make eye contact several times, mostly at a stoplight when Harry glances at Louis and Louis quickly glances away.

“Do I really look that different?” Harry asks finally.

“I don’t know. You look like you, but also not.”

“That’s helpful,” Harry says with a laugh. He flashes a smile Louis’ way and Louis isn’t sure — or maybe he’s in denial — but he thinks his heart skips a beat.

“Does time move the same in the past as it does here?” Louis asks.

“It does,” Harry says.

“You said we fix things…between us,” Louis says, carefully, his gaze fixed on the back of the car ahead of them. “I think that might be difficult if I leave it for too long.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Harry says. “He wants to fix things too. It’s not like you’ll miss your chance forever if you don’t talk to him tomorrow.”

Louis would argue because the situation between himself and Harry in the past feels pretty dire, but Harry is here in the future and no one would know better than him. There’s also nothing more dire than being here and keeping himself alive.

“How am I meant to help?” Louis asks. “You haven’t said. And…how does it happen?”

Harry wraps his hands more firmly around the steering wheel. “We’ll explain everything,” he says.

“We?”

“Mostly me,” Harry says. “But your future self will be there too. At the house.”

In retrospect, it makes sense, seeing as Louis’ future self is the subject of all this concern, but he never expected to actually meet him. “And it’s fine for me and him to see each other? And speak? Won’t that cause some sort of glitch in the space-time continuum?”

Harry gives him a look. “This isn’t Back to the Future, Lou. Everything that’s meant to happen will happen. It’s already happened. Nothing you say will change that. But it’s bad form and technically violates witch law for us to, like…tell you next week’s winning lottery numbers or something.”

“But it’s not against the rules to bring me here?”

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not like you’ll be going out or interacting with anyone else. You’ll be staying with us.”

“Who’s us?”

Harry peeks at him. He hesitates for a while. “Um,” he begins. “Me…and my husband.”

Louis angles his body to face him. “ Husband ?”

Harry throws another skittish glance his way.

“So you’re actually…?” Louis faces forward again. He wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “When did you decide for sure you were…?”

“Gay?” Harry supplies. “Maybe it was when you kissed me.”

“ You kissed me .”

“You kissed me back,” Harry says. “Enthusiastically.”

“Whatever. Is that genuinely when you knew? You started snogging boys exclusively from then on?”

“Well, I was snogging a girl just now before we left, as you saw. And a boy,” Harry says. “But yeah, I guess…not long after that party, I decided to stick to blokes. Or just…one, really.”

Louis nearly misses that last bit. “What?”

Harry turns the radio up. “That’s enough questions for now. And we’re almost home.”

Louis goes on staring at him for a bit longer, wondering if he’s understood correctly. Did Harry meet his husband at that party? Was it someone he met the following week? Was Louis that stupid to step aside and let whoever it was take his place? Apparently so.

The mood grows tenser from then on, mostly due to Louis’ adamant silence and sour mood, neither of which he can justify. Did he expect Harry to never marry? Did he expect Harry to marry him ?

Louis snorts aloud and sees Harry sneak a look at him. He sinks further into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and stares through the windscreen for the rest of the ride.

Within the next few minutes, the car slows and turns at the corner of a downward-sloping drive. At the end of the drive, as Harry approaches, a garage door rises. Louis didn’t see Harry press any buttons but perhaps it’s automatic.

Then Louis sees him . Or himself. Or his older self. At first he doesn’t believe his eyes. He’s still expecting something dimension-shattering to occur when he’s face to face with a future version of himself. He expects to implode or for Future Louis to fade out of existence. None of that happens, but there’s no denying that the man standing at the door connecting the garage to the house is Louis, eleven years older.

“Trippy, isn’t it?” Harry says, as he cuts the engine. “Ready to meet your future?”

And well, Louis won’t say it aloud because he’d just sound like a dickhead, but his future is quite fit, so the answer is yes. He’s got an actual beard, as opposed to Louis’ vague facial hair. He seems more built and broad around his shoulders and torso. It’s hard to be sure when he’s backlit by the light flowing from the interior of Harry’s home, but even his hair seems shinier and softer. He’s wearing a dark grey knit jumper with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and Louis catches sight of several more tattoos, although he doesn’t get a good look at them before Older Louis pulls his sleeves down.

Harry pushes his door open, so Louis does the same. And finally meets eyes with himself, unobstructed by the windscreen.

“Forgot how small I was,” Older Louis says and nothing more.

Louis wasn’t expecting to be best mates with his older self or anything, but perhaps they won’t be friends at all. “You’re not exactly Dwayne Johnson, mate.”

Harry snorts, pushing the car door closed. “Don’t start,” he says to Older Louis. He noticeably pats his stomach as he eases past him into the house. It registers as familiar or even flirty to Louis, which is odd but reassuring. At least in the future, in spite of Harry’s husband, they manage to retain their closeness. Harry’s husband must not love that, but clearly Older Louis can’t be arsed.

Louis hears a chorus of barks from further inside and moves more quickly and curiously, eager to see every aspect of Harry’s adult life.

“Shoes off,” Older Louis says to younger Louis at the door. He tacks on a smile. “If you’d be so polite.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him as he shoves his shoes off.

“Come on,” Older Louis says. “I’ll be your tour guide.”

“You don’t even live here,” Louis says.

Older Louis looks at him. “Right,” he says. “Harry just lets me kip here every night ‘cause I don’t have a home of my own.”

“Seriously?”

“The future is tough, mate,” Older Louis says gravely. But just as he turns away, there’s a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his lips that suggests he’d like to laugh.

Louis decides his older self is not to be taken seriously. He’ll get his facts from Harry. Speaking of whom, they find him when they enter the kitchen as he steps inside from the back garden.

“What happened to your dogs?” Louis asks.

“I let them out. Jasper is a senior and when he gets really excited, he wets himself,” Harry says. “And he’ll get really excited seeing two of you.”

“I gave him his meds,” Older Louis says. “Should be fine in a bit.”

“Thanks, babe,” Harry says. His gaze flickers suddenly to younger Louis like he forgot he was there. He clears his throat. “Um, do you want a beer? Or tea? Water?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Louis says.

“Do you like wine?” Harry asks. “I can’t remember if we drank wine at your age.”

“Never too early to start,” Older Louis says. “He’ll like the Malbec.”

“Sure,” Louis says.

“Malbec, it is,” Harry says and goes into a walk-in pantry where he ostensibly keeps the wine. Meanwhile, Older Louis gets three glasses from a cupboard above the sink. He’s really a bit too familiar with Harry’s home. Maybe he is here all the time. Maybe he really doesn’t have a home of his own. Compounded with his imminent death tomorrow, the future doesn’t seem all that bright for Louis. No matter how hot he is.

But his friendship with Harry is a lot to be grateful for. Louis watches Harry and his older self speaking quietly to each other as Harry fills each of the three glasses. He watches Harry laugh at whatever Older Louis says and slap his hand playfully against his chest.

Louis wonders again about Harry’s husband. He wants to ask where he is and when he gets home, but he also never wants him to come home. So long as he’s away, Louis can keep tricking himself into believing he doesn’t exist.

But then he spies the wedding ring on Harry’s finger as Harry hands him a glass of wine and he can’t stop himself from blurting, “Where is he?”

Harry’s brows crease. “Who?”

“ Your husband ,” Louis says, pointedly.

“Oh.” Harry chews his top lip for a moment. “Why don’t we get comfortable first? Come on.”

He takes Louis’ free hand and pulls him off towards the sunken living area. It hasn’t slipped his notice how posh the entire home is. The kitchen was a massive gleaming wonder of marble and bronze. There were five cars in the drive and the first room Louis passed upon entering the home was a gym. He didn’t get a good look at the exterior under the cover of night, but what he could see revealed an expansive upper floor and several outdoor decks.

The living area features two parallel velvet couches, a marble coffee table, and a large flat-screen TV mounted above a two-way fireplace. Louis can’t quite tell what’s on the other side of the fireplace but it seems like a formal dining room.

“Your house is fucking amazing,” Louis says, plopping down in a plush leather armchair.

“Thanks,” Harry says, smiling. He sits on the couch across from Louis. “It’s the kind of house you grow into. That’s why we bought it.”

Louis nearly asks if that means Harry has kids, but he has a big greedy gulp of wine instead. He shrivels at the taste initially, finding it bitter and sharp. But then he has another sip and it’s not so much that he likes it, but that he finds it distracting.

Older Louis enters the room much to Louis’ disappointment and takes up the seat right beside Harry.

“I can still get you a beer,” Harry says randomly. “If you don’t like the wine.”

“No,” Louis says. “It’s fine.”

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know,” Harry says. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable enough, Haz,” says Louis. “It’s just nice to see where you live in the future, and how well you’ve done for yourself. You deserve all this. The husband, too.”

Older Louis exhales a laugh. “Should I get a box of tissues?”

“Shut up,” Harry says.

“Tell him to shut up,” Older Louis says. “This is embarrassing.”

“If you’re so embarrassed, just leave,” Louis says. “I don’t even get why you’re still here.”

Older Louis groans suddenly and loudly, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. “There’s no way you’re this daft. No fucking way.”

“Louis,” Harry says. “Please.”

Older Louis sits forward. “Why don’t we talk about the massive crush little me has on you, babe? That’s a way more interesting topic.”

Louis’ face warms instantly. “Fuck off.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?” Older Louis asks. And Harry presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Then he spots Louis looking at him and wipes the smile off his face.

“Stop teasing him,” Harry says. “He’s a guest.”

Older Louis rolls his eyes, staring his younger self down. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? Got yourself a little crush on your best mate and you don’t have the guts to say it? What are you, nineteen? Are you still on about being straight?”

Louis’ gaze darts Harry’s way. “I have a girlfriend.”

“Right, Clair. Lovely girl, to be fair. Not at all your type.”

“I like her,” Louis says. “I like girls.”

Older Louis lets his head fall onto the back of the couch. For a moment, he just stares at the ceiling like his soul is leaving his body. Then he lifts his head suddenly and looks at Harry. “Come here,” he says.

Harry hesitates, the two of them having some odd silent exchange that only serves to infuriate Louis further. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says.

“I remember now,” Older Louis says. “This is how it goes.”

Harry still looks unsure. Until Older Louis reaches for Harry’s hip and tugs him in close. Louis watches it happen in slow motion, like his mind is struggling to keep up with his vision. Older Louis leans into him, tilting his head so their mouths are perfectly aligned. The instant their mouths meet, Harry gives and fits his hand over the other man’s jaw, his eyes slipping shut. There’s a flash of tongue—

Louis squeezes his thighs together to suppress the heat building in his groin. But it doesn’t help, especially not when Harry actually moans. Very softly, but Louis is a fucking vampire. He hears it all. He can hear their hearts racing. He can hear the blood rushing to Harry’s face and neck.

It’s too much. Louis makes a noise himself, something embarrassing like a mewl, and the two pull apart and look at him. Harry seems suddenly flustered, like he’s been startled awake. Everyone’s breathing a little quicker. Even Louis who’s just been sitting there, watching.

“What the fuck…”

“Sorry, got carried away,” says Older Louis. “Happens a lot.”

“What the fuck ,” Louis says again, darting to his feet.

“I’d say ‘surprise’,” Older Louis says, “but it’s not at all, is it? We both know you’ve suspected about your sexuality for a while now. Been staring at Chris in the gym a bit longer than you think you should, haven’t you?”

Harry frowns. “Chris Ryeman? You fancied him?”

Older Louis pats Harry’s knee. “I wouldn’t go that far. He had a nice arse is all. Not as nice as yours, though.”

“What the fuck,” Louis says for the third time and regains their attention.

Older Louis goes on. “Listen. It’s not your fault that you’re in denial. We didn’t grow up in the most accepting environment, did we? You’re probably caught up in labels and whatever, but none of that’s important. One day, if it hasn’t happened already, you’ll realise it’s not so much a matter of sexuality as it is a matter of Harry."

“You’re going to make me blush,” says Harry.

“You’re blushing already,” says Older Louis. He makes a concerted effort not to look bashful himself but fails. Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ hair and each swipe of his fingertips seems to deepen Louis’ blush.

Louis almost wants to tell his older self to get a grip. Except each time he makes eye contact with Harry, his skin feels warmer too.

“Wait a minute. Wait,” Louis says, pointing almost accusingly at Harry. “You’re married.”

Harry doesn’t bat an eyelash. “Yeah,” he says. He looks at Louis steadily. “ We are.”

Louis looks at his older self. He looks at his hand and sees the wedding band there to match Harry’s. He feels suddenly light-headed. As if dying tomorrow wasn’t shocking enough, supposedly he’s also destined to marry his best mate who he only just kissed a few days ago, his best mate who he may have ruined things with tonight.

Louis sinks into his seat again, putting his forehead in his palm. He feels their eyes on him, burning into the top of his skull. This is all too much for him to deal with. He supposes it should be a relief that he ends up married to an admittedly fit bloke in the future, ostensibly happy, except that Louis is only just realizing that he’s gay or bisexual or whatever. It’s not enough to say the labels don’t matter. His whole life has been shaped and defined by labels.

He feels his throat closing in on itself and then suddenly, there’s a cool hand on the back of his neck. He smells the woody vanilla from Harry’s shampoo or cologne.

“Why don’t we take a beat?” Harry asks and he rubs his thumb gently against the nape of Louis’ neck. 

The touch reminds Louis of Christmas Eve, of Harry’s fingertips pressing gently into the back of Louis’ neck. His touch had been enough to bring Louis’ thoughts to a halt. He wasn’t worried about someone catching them or about what the kiss meant. He remembers every hypnotic second of Harry’s kiss and Harry’s touch.

Louis looks at the version of Harry stood before him now, his gaze travelling all over Harry’s face and then landing on his mouth. Then he remembers his older self and when he looks, he finds him smiling knowingly, hands folded in his lap like a self-righteous bastard.

Louis stands, breaking away from Harry. “This feels like a joke. Or a really vivid dream. ‘Cause none of this makes sense. And there’s no sense in you even telling me this either. There’s rules about that, isn’t there?”

“I needed to bring you here, but I can’t exactly hide the nature of things from you, can I?” Harry says. “I wasn’t going to lie about it. I didn’t want to.”

“Of course you didn’t. You also didn’t think about how fucking much all this is to take in,” Louis says. “But that’s not a surprise, Harry. Once you’ve made up your mind about something, that’s just how it is, yeah? You can be pretty bloody selfish when you’re ready.”

“Hey,” Older Louis says. “Watch it.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says. “I did want you to see. I wanted you to see what we have and what we’re at risk of losing. I love my life with you. I’ll do anything to protect it. To protect you. And if that makes me selfish, fine.”

“That’s romantic and all, but you still haven’t even explained how it is I end up dying tomorrow.”

Harry noticeably avoids Louis’ gaze for several long eerie seconds. “There’s someone after us,” he says. “I can’t explain why right now, but…you know I was expected to become head of the Orderly Council, yeah?”

“Sure. You finally took up the reins, then?” Louis asks. “Congrats.”

“I considered it, but no. People didn’t love the idea after we got married, but if I wanted the seat, I could’ve taken it. But then something happened three years ago and I couldn’t pretend anymore that I belonged with those people. The only place I belong is here…with you.”

Louis can’t pretend he’s unaffected by that. He tries and fails. “Okay,” he says. “So, the person coming after you is from the council?”

“No, the council is batshit, but they’re not murderous,” Harry says.

“I don’t know if I’d put that past them, actually,” says Older Louis.

“I guess I wouldn’t either,” Harry says, shrugging. “But it’s…someone the Council imprisoned three years ago. His name is Paimon. He’s a half-witch, half-demon.”

“How is that even possible?” Louis asks.

“There’s actually no reason it wouldn’t be,” Harry says. “As long as the anatomy works and the fetus survives, technically any interspecies offspring is possible. The Council just doesn’t want people to know that. Paimon knew, though, and he tried to…create his own little army of mixed-breed preternaturals. The Council got scared, they came up with a crime to charge him with, and they locked him away somewhere where he couldn’t use any magic at all. But last week, a witch who worked for the council broke Paimon out of prison and he hasn’t been seen since.”

Louis processes all that as best as he can. “And how do you know he’s coming after you? Why would he?”

“The why…is…too much to get into right now,” Harry says. “But I had a vision. I know he’ll come in two days. I know he tries to kill me and you stop him.”

Harry looks at Older Louis.

“You put yourself between me and him,” Harry says. “And his weapon pierces your heart instead of mine.”

“So it’s ‘cause of you?”

Louis says it matter-of-factly. He simply means to gauge whether this Paimon lad is after them both or just after Harry. But he’s not particularly tactful at nineteen and he doesn’t expect to see the hurt warp Harry’s expression the way it does. He only gets a glimpse of Harry’s face though before his older self is on him. One second Older Louis is seated across the room and the next his forearm is crushed to Louis’ chest and Louis’ back has met the nearest wall. The painting on the wall rattles. He thinks a bit of drywall splinters and flies free. Momentarily, he sees stars.

“I said watch it,” Older Louis seethes.

Louis shoves him away, although he doesn’t have the easiest time of it. He should probably be pleased that he seems to get much stronger in his thirties, but all it does is piss him off. “Get the fuck off me,” he says as he breaks free.

“This was a mistake,” Older Louis says to Harry. “We don’t need him.”

“We literally do,” Harry says. He looks at younger Louis. “I need your blood to repair his heart. Like a blood transfusion.”

“Have you even done that before?” Louis asks and gets another mean look from his older self. “These are genuine fucking questions. I don’t know who this Paimon person is. I don’t know what he wants. You haven’t been all that explicit, have you? And I don’t understand how you plan to save me. I don’t fucking know anything.”

Harry looks at Louis sadly. “You’re right… I haven’t done this before, but I know it can be done,” he says. “I’ve performed similar magic on a cat.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis breathes, covering his face with his hand.

“Listen, this is a lot to process so you don’t have to believe me, but I will save you. I know I can. I’ve done it before,,” Harry reminds him. “And there’s no other option. So…just…try to be positive. And have a little faith.”

They all stand in miserable silence until Older Louis’ mobile rings. He leaves to answer it, though Louis catches him ask, “How is she?” before stepping outside and shutting the door.

“I should show you your room,” Harry says and turns away as well. Louis has no choice but to follow him.

+

Harry flips the light switch inside one of the spare rooms and crosses over to the fluffy king-sized bed at its centre. He turns on one of the bedside lamps as well. “This’ll do, yeah?” he asks.

Louis takes a look around the neat modern room with its neutral tones and cosy decor. “Did you forget how the rooms look at UCL?” he asks. “I feel like I’m at a five-star hotel right now, believe me.”

He’s grateful for the smile that brings to Harry’s face. Grateful for confirmation that he can make Harry smile at all since he’s mostly done the opposite as of late.

“I put some clothes in the drawers. They’re yours. Or his,” Harry says. “So, I think they’ll do.”

“Thanks,” Louis says.

Harry lingers there for a moment. “Okay, well— let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Louis says abruptly. “For how I said it. I didn’t mean that what happens is your fault, I swear.”

“It kind of is,” Harry says.

“I still don’t know the specifics but older me clearly doesn’t think that,” Louis says. “And I wouldn’t think that either. I keep racking up things to apologise for tonight. I just wanted to say I know I’ve been a dickhead and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Like I said, this is a lot,” Harry says. “And you’ve got enough going on in your own time. If I could do this more slowly, I would.”

For the first time, Louis senses how panicked Harry is. When he looks at him, it’s clear he probably hasn’t slept much in the last two days. He must not have had a ton of time to prepare for time travel and he hardly took a break between his jump to the past and his jump back home. He must be exhausted from that outpouring of magic and even more so from the urgency and gravity of their situation.

“I haven’t said so but I’m glad you brought me here. If I can help, I obviously want to.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I need tomorrow to prepare and recuperate all the magic I used today. But I’ll show you the lab where I’ll do the transfusion.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says. “Make sure you get lots of sleep.”

Harry smiles wryly. “I don’t think I’ll get any sleep tonight.”

“Do we still pull all-nighters at this age?”

“We’re not that old, Louis.”

“Alright, so what do we usually get up to?” At the last second, he realises how suggestive that sounds and panics.

“We’ve got a pool downstairs. I like to go for a swim at night sometimes, especially if I can’t sleep,” Harry says. “You can join me if you’re interested?”

“Does he typically join you?” Louis asks.

“Sometimes,” Harry says. “But he’s not being the nicest host right now. So…maybe it’ll be just us. And we can get to know each other better.”

“We grew up together. I know you pretty well.”

“That’s true, but— not like this,” Harry says. And he lifts his left hand, wiggling his ring finger.

“No, I guess not,” Louis says, exhaling a nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t mind a swim.”

Chapter Text

Harry loans him a pair of Older Louis’ swim trunks and they make their way down to the pool dressed in robes. He tries not to stare as Harry shrugs out of his own robe and dives seamlessly into the water. Slowly and tentatively, Louis shakes his own robe down his arms and when he looks again, Harry is looking back.

“I won’t bite,” Harry says. “I’m not the vampire here.”

“Very funny,” Louis says. He takes a second and then he runs, jumps, and cannonballs into the water. He rises to find Harry shrinking away, wiping water away from his eyes. He splashes Louis in retaliation. Louis splashes him back.

“Enough,” Harry shrieks and paddles towards the other end of the pool.

“Thought you wanted me to get closer,” Louis says.

Harry’s brows arch. “What was that? Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” Louis says incredulously but then feels ridiculous for doing so.

Harry laughs. “Sounded like it to me.”

“What do you do for work?” Louis asks, desperate for a subject change. “Assuming it’s not something you hate talking about.”

“I’m a paediatrician,” Harry says. “And I love talking about it.”

“So you found something you actually want to do?”

“I did,” Harry says. “I love working with kids. I love medicine. It feels right.”

Louis wants to ask yet again whether they have kids of their own, but if they did, surely he would have heard or seen them by now.

“I’m happy for you,” Louis says. He feels like a nerd saying it, but: “I’m happy you’re happy.”

“I’m really happy,” Harry says. “Big thanks to you for that.”

“I haven’t made you happy in a while,” Louis says. “My you, I mean.”

“Is he yours now?” Harry asks with another coy smile. “That’s progress.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I think if you want to make him happy, you should consider making him yours,” Harry says. “If that’s what you want, at least.”

Louis watches him wade around. “I never knew you felt that way…about me,” he blurts. “Until recently.”

Harry stills for a while, equally pensive. He moves his hands back and forth through the water. “I didn’t always,” he says quietly. “It was always me and you growing up, so I didn’t have to think too much about it. But then you started dating and so did I. And like I said…you know…I’d snog a girl and think about you in the middle of it. And I tried to ignore it. Tried to keep things as they were. But things fell apart anyway. I felt like I was losing you as a friend, then I realised it wasn’t enough to be just friends anyhow.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Louis says. 

“I know when you first felt it,” Harry says. “You told me yourself.”

“That’s cheating,” Louis says.

Harry shrugs. “I’m having a hard time getting you to talk about your feelings. I have to cheat a little bit.”

“Alright. When did I first feel it?”

“When you fed,” Harry says plainly. “You had one taste of my blood and I was all you could think about. Your words, not mine.”

Lying to a witch is even more silly than lying to a demon. Witches sense deceit more clearly than demons because of their heightened clairvoyance. So Louis doesn’t lie, but he doesn’t admit the truth either.

“I don’t like this game,” Louis says.

“I’m having a blast,” Harry says with a laugh. “You ask all the questions then.”

“Did I ask you to marry me?” Louis wonders.

“I asked you,” Harry says. “Or technically, I did it first. It turned out you had a ring you’d purchased, but I beat you to it.”

“‘Course you did.”

Harry glides through the water for a while, moonlight glistening on every inch of his skin. 

"So, you two, like…” Louis pauses, clearing his throat. He suddenly feels like an idiot for even considering his next question. “Never mind.”

“What?” Harry asks, swimming closer.

“I mean, you’re married so I guess it’s obvious.”

“Do we do stuff with our cocks?” Harry asks, his lips twitching.

“Shut up,” Louis says with an exasperated sigh. “I said never mind.”

He can obviously conclude they’re…intimate. What he really wants to ask is about the specifics. And he can’t think of a normal way to do so.

"The answer is all the time," Harry says. “You can’t keep your hands off me.”

Louis can’t really blame his older self for that, considering. The one time he allowed himself to touch Harry, he didn’t want to stop then either. He thinks he’d like a subject change now. In fact, he needs one.

“Did you get a lot of shit for marrying a vampire? Can’t imagine your family was too happy about that.”

Harry pushes his damp hair back and away from his eyes. “The Council — or just my grandfather, really — he didn’t want to recognise our marriage license at first, but we were legally married in the UK and that’s all that mattered. I stopped speaking to them for a while afterwards. Until my mum insisted on fixing things,” he says.

“You chose me over your family?”

“You are my family,” Harry says, and Louis’ heart skips a beat. “And after we got married, there were so many couples like us popping up left and right. Any hate we got didn’t matter as much compared to that. And we’re happy. It’s hard to be worried about anything else when things are this good.”

“How exactly is it so good?”

Harry looks at Louis. “It doesn’t get any better than marrying your best friend.”

“Right,” Louis says, his skin going warm again. To be fair, the pool is heated, but he doesn’t think he’s blushed this much ever…let alone in one night.

“We founded an orphanage together,” Harry goes on. “We’ve seen most of the world together. You’re spontaneous and you’re romantic. And you’re my best friend, Louis.”

Louis pushes his hand back and forth through the water’s surface, just to have something to do with himself, and somewhere else to look. Because when he looks at Harry while Harry speaks of him so fondly, he can’t think clearly at all. Harry is beautiful without a doubt, but nothing makes a person more beautiful than when they speak about the people they love. And it’s not as if Harry needs to say it, seeing as he’s married Louis.

But when he speaks about Louis, it’s indisputable how deeply he loves him.

“We also have the craziest…most mind-blowing…most life-altering sex imaginable.”

Louis’ gaze locks onto him. He stares for so long he feels his eyes stinging from the need to blink. “Sure,” he says, exhaling unsteadily.

“Do you want an explanation about that too?” Harry asks.

Louis rolls his eyes. Or he tries too, but his gaze is immediately back on Harry. He looks at his smug smiling mouth. “I already know what you’re into.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’ve seen the kind of porn you watch. All that BDSM stuff.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, I guess you’ve figured me out,” he says, his voice oozing sarcasm.

“Tell me then.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to scare you off.”

Louis scowls. “I’m not a bloody virgin.”

“Alright,” Harry says, shrugging. “You like a bit of pain yourself. Sometimes I like to be tied up and teased. But so do you. I’m into whatever you’re into. That’s how we are. You mostly top, but just recently, you tied me to our bed and you made me watch while you fucked yourself with a dildo. And then you climbed into my lap to finish yourself off.”

Louis’ breath leaves him. It feels like his soul leaves him. Smiling, Harry backstrokes to the other end of the pool. Louis watches him the whole way. He’s not even sure he can function beyond watching Harry. He can hardly feel his body. Except he’s pretty sure he’s got an erection.

“Does that seem like something you’d be into?” Harry asks. “Or maybe you already are?”

Louis swallows and tries to get his tongue working again. “I thought you already knew everything about me, so there’s no point in me answering your questions, is there?” He swims towards the edge of the pool, embarrassed to have lost his cool. “This has all been informative, I guess. I forgot to take notes but hopefully there won’t be a quiz later.”

Harry swims after him and takes Louis’ arm before he can reach for the ladder. “Stay, please,” he says. “I’ll stop talking about our sex life, I promise.”

“Like I said, I’m not a virgin.”

“I know,” Harry says. “My first time with you, though, I almost felt like one. I don’t know what I was doing before you, but it’s never felt like that.”

Louis might kiss him to shut him up. Just to shut him up. Not because he desperately wants to.

“That’s the last thing I’ll say about it,” Harry says, glancing at Louis’ mouth. “It’s hard to be this close to any version of you and not kiss you.”

Louis glances over his shoulder self-consciously.

“Don’t worry about him,” Harry says.

“Shouldn’t you be worried? Or is your husband alright with you kissing other men?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

Louis lifts his brows, a small smile on his lips. “I’m not your husband yet.”

“Well, you’re the closest thing at the moment,” Harry says.

Louis licks his lips. He just— needs to taste him. He wants a taste is all. He doesn’t think he’s leaning in until Harry’s mouth is suddenly an inch away and when the warm familiar smell of him rushes through Louis’ nostrils, when Harry exhales a tiny breath he’s been holding, it’s too late for Louis to do anything except close that distance. He kisses him, a bit unsurely, but Harry’s mouth is a firm contrast to Louis’. There's nothing apprehensive or uncertain about the way he kisses Louis back. It’s steady and familiar and everything Louis won’t admit he needs.

"Think you can do better than that, H."

Louis pulls away quickly. He sees his older self stood there with his hands jammed into the pockets of his pyjamas, his expression inscrutable. Whether his older self is poking fun or not, he instantly feels embarrassed and caught out. 

“Don’t mind me,” says Older Louis.

Louis draws away from Harry entirely.

“Don’t leave,” Harry says. “Louis.”

But Louis reaches for the pool ladder and pulls himself out of the pool anyway. Harry is not long after him.

Louis wants to believe all this, he does. But he feels like a joke anyhow. And he’s got an overgrown child snickering behind him to make matters worse. “I said not to tease him,” Harry says to Older Louis. “For fuck’s sake, Louis…”

“I can’t help that it’s fun,” Louis hears his older self say and it’s nearly enough to double back and maybe knock his jaw out of alignment. But then he wouldn’t be doing himself any favours would he?

“Your life depends on him, you arsehole,” says Harry, which is the last thing Louis hears before he steps back into the house. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s dripping pool water all over their fancy hardwood floors. He has half a mind to yank one of their stupid modern paintings off the wall and punch a hole through the canvas. Or he could just put his foot through a wall.

These aren’t actually his things. This isn’t his life. And Harry isn’t his. Not in the future. Not in the present. Louis is merely an imposter. Stumbling around, pretending to have a clue…

+

Louis steals a cigar that he assumes belongs to his older self since Harry doesn’t smoke. He’s never had a cigar himself, but they seem expensive and he has to do something to spite the other vampire.

He’s out on the balcony connected to his room, puffing away when he feels a presence looming. He can smell Older Louis’ ridiculous fancy cologne before he steps into the open.

“I’m being forced to apologise,” says Older Louis.

Louis snorts. “If you have to be forced, don’t bother.”

“I don’t remember being this big of a twat at your age,” Older Louis says and plucks the cigar from between Louis’ fingers. He has several lengthy puffs. “What do you have to be so angry about all the time?”

The annoying thing is Louis isn’t usually this way at all. He never was before his vampire awakening. His emotions have been all over the place since then, but even so, he still partied hard and played even harder. He can trace his true downward turn back to Christmas Eve. Everything’s been shit since Harry kissed him, which says nothing about the fact that Louis has never enjoyed a kiss more. (Well, his second kiss with Harry at the pool might take the win, but the point stands.) Kissing Harry is way too good to make life feel so bloody hard.

Louis says none of that, though. He wishes he could, but he’s not all that confident in his older self’s ability to make him feel any better. “I’ve just found out I’m going to die in the future so I’d say that’s something to be angry about.”

“I’m the one who’s doing the dying and I’m not even angry,” Older Louis says, handing the cigar back. “But I can’t blame you, can I? And I am…sorry…for making this all harder than it needs to be. But mate, I don’t think it should be all that hard. How are you not through the fucking roof right now, seeing how lucky you are?”

“Lucky I’m going to die?”

“Lucky to be with him ,” Older Louis says. “He’s the single greatest person you’ll ever meet in your life. And he thinks the same of you. One day, you’ll realise he looks at you like you set the world in motion or something and I promise you’ll wonder how the fuck you got so lucky.”

Louis just blinks as the cigar burns out between his fingers. Older Louis snatches it back out of his hand and says, “Don’t waste this, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s not like I don’t feel lucky,” Louis says. “But none of this feels like it’s mine.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s mine,” Older Louis says. “In fact…Harry is mine. He’s my mate. Maybe that’s obvious, by now, but in case it isn’t… We’re bonded.”

“I thought bonds were only formed between vampires,” Louis says, although he’s still figuring all the vampire stuff out.

“Not necessarily. I feel the bond with him, even if he can’t feel it the same way.”

It makes sense when Louis thinks about it, but from his understanding, bonds are formed when a vampire feeds from their partner during sex. Vampire bonds also need to be constantly reinforced, meaning regular sex and regular feeding. And thinking about all that in relation to Harry is absolutely too much for Louis’ brain to handle.

Another thought occurs to Louis, then. “Are you trying to tell me to keep my hands to myself or something?”

Older Louis shrugs. “I could do that, but Harry’s got a mind of his own,” he says, inspecting the bed of his nails. “You’ll be gone in a few days. I think I can keep my cool till then. And if I can’t, rather than rip your head off your neck when you kiss him, I’ll just have a laugh or two at your expense. Works for everyone.”

“You can’t kill me,” Louis says. “You’d be killing yourself.”

“Obviously, but the thought’s crossed my mind.”

“Whatever,” Louis says. “I don’t have to save you, you know? I could live my life, end up with Harry, enjoy whatever time I get with him and accept my death as it is.”

“You could…” Older Louis says, stealing the cigar from him again. “If you think that’s fair to Harry. And to Max.”

“Who?”

Older Louis opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. A ring of smoke curls and suspends at his lips. He quickly exhales, waving the smoke away. “You two talked about Maxine, didn’t you?”

“Is that another one of your dogs or something?”

Older Louis’ jaw locks with palpable irritation. “Try our three-year-old daughter.”

At this point, nothing should surprise Louis. Louis tries to regulate his reaction, but his control slips. “Holy fucking shit .”

A daughter. A three-year-old. Maxine.

“Where? How? Where is she?”

“Given how things are set to pan out, we sent her to stay with family,” Older Louis says. “You don’t need to know anything beyond that.”

Louis puts his head in his hands. “I feel like I’m not meant to know any of this.”

“That’s probably why Harry didn’t mention it,” Older Louis says. “He can erase that little detail in your memories, though.”

“Is that the plan?” Louis asks. “My memories of all this will just vanish when I go back?”

“I don’t know how it all works,” Older Louis says. He turns and outs the cigar in the ashtray on his desk. “Let’s have another drink with Haz. You can ask him.”

+

It probably isn’t a grand idea to get drunk with an escaped convict lurking about, but unfortunately, that’s exactly what Louis needs. Perhaps it’s what they all need.

Older Louis turns out to be a pretty excellent barman and throws together a concoction that has Louis flying with just two glasses. To make matters worse (or better, depending on how one looks at it), Older Louis pulls out a half-smoked joint, relights it and offers it to Louis.

“If you two know what’s going to happen, why not just avoid it?” Louis asks.

“That’s not how it works,” Harry says. “Things that are meant to happen will happen somehow, somewhere. It’s better not to avoid it and to figure out a way to fix the horrible thing after it’s happened.”

“But earlier, you said I have a choice,” Louis says. They share a knowing glance that Older Louis seems to catch, but chooses to ignore.

“Yes, you have a choice,” Harry says. “But you can only control your own actions. For example, when you go back to your own time, you could choose to marry Clair.”

“Sorry, what ?” Older Louis says.

“I’m trying to make a point,” Harry says. “You could do that, but more than likely, we’d still end up together. Maybe in the next millennia. Maybe in the afterlife. But eventually, we would. That’s what I believe. If it’s meant to happen, it always will.”

“I don’t like whatever point you’re trying to make,” Older Louis grumbles. “I’d never leave you.”

“I know, love,” Harry says. “You’re drunk.”

“Only a little,” Older Louis says. “And you know what’d make that even better?”

Louis watches his older self stand, fetch the stereo remote from a tray on the coffee table and raise the volume. Older Louis turns to Harry and starts moving his hips and stepping to the beat in a very Dad-like way. Maxine isn’t old enough to be embarrassed of him yet, but if she was, Louis imagines she would be. But Older Louis also doesn’t seem like the type to care and when Harry starts dancing with him, his moves are equally Dad-like and dorky.

Louis loves it, he’ll admit. He can’t take his eyes off them and he feels like he should. He feels like he should give them some privacy when Older Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and pulls him into a slow sway.

Louis takes an awkward sip of his beer, his gaze on the ground. He sees Harry’s socked feet appear in his vision first and when he looks up, Harry is there, his palms open and outstretched. “Come on,” he says. “What kind of dance party would this be without our guest of honour?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but his smile grows. He sets his hand in his Harry’s and allows himself to be hoisted up.

It helps that he’s a little tipsy. It helps the way Harry curls his arms around him. For a second, Harry almost seems shy and that lessens Louis’ self-consciousness too. But he can’t look at Harry without looking at his mouth and he can’t look at his mouth without thinking about kissing him.

And when Harry looks back at him, he seems to know it.

Later in the hallway, long after Older Louis has strolled off to bed, Harry lingers for a moment at Louis’ door, leaning against his door frame. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Louis says. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Thank you ,” Harry says. “For being here.”

“‘Course,” Louis says. He hesitates, his gaze on Harry’s mouth again. “Night, Haz.”

“Night, Lou.”

Then Louis slips quickly into the room. He sinks to the ground right at the door, tucking his head between his knees.

+

The first thing Louis hears when he steps into the kitchen is, “You’re unbelievable.” It’s  Older Louis who’s said it and after he stands, taking his coffee cup with him on his way out of the room. Louis watches him go, not quite sure if he’s just witnessed the tail end of an argument or not.

Harry’s demeanour reads as unbothered, aside from his poor attempt to eat his breakfast. He finally notices Louis and stops pushing a tomato wedge around his plate. With a sheepish smile, he says, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Louis says. He glances in the direction Older Louis strolled off to.

“Tea?” Harry asks.

“Sure.”

Harry quickly stands, putting his back to Louis. He fiddles with the kettle and the mugs in the cupboards and all the various tea selections on the counter for a while. When he turns back, a steaming cuppa in hand, it’s like he’s had a pep talk with himself. His smile is less forced. “I should show you the lab,” he says. “Come on. Bring your tea.”

Louis stands reluctantly and follows Harry out of the room because it’s not like Harry’s left him a choice, marching off the way he does. They head down the stairs and down a corridor he hasn’t yet taken. The house is massive but not a maze like the manor they grew up in. They reach Harry’s lab quickly, Harry holds the door open for Louis and Louis steps inside.

There’s a dormant cauldron in the corner, a table in the centre of the room and shelves lining the walls loaded with jars and bottles of herbs and inscrutable objects as well as steel medical cabinets, some with glass fronts displaying pill bottles and medicine vials.

“Tomorrow, you’ll wait here until I arrive with Older You,” Harry says. He walks him through how the transfusion will go and what he’ll need Louis to do. “It might be a good idea for me to draw a litre of your blood now just in case.”

“Sure,” Louis says with a shrug.

Harry pats one of the stools at the table and goes to the cabinet in the corner of the room while Louis takes a seat. He gets a pair of gloves, an empty blood bag and everything else he’ll need. Then he washes his hands and returns to the table.

“Were you always interested in medicine?” Louis asks.

“I think so,” Harry says. “Most witches are trained in basic medical craft, which you already know. Drawing blood, healing, that kind of thing.”

“Transfusions.”

“Definitely not basic,” Harry says. He whispers an incantation, running his thumb down Louis’ forearm. A tiny spot glows on Louis’ skin and Harry injects a needle there, having found the perfect vein to draw blood.

“How did your magic get so advanced?”

“I think my family was holding us both back,” Harry says. “After you and I started dating, I started distancing myself from them, which meant it was up to me to train myself. And I realised the way they use magic is a bit…vanilla… I wanted to learn everything, even dark magic. Not to use it, but to know how it works. The time travel stuff, too… I don’t think my parents or grandparents would’ve taught me how to do that. It’s hard to control a kid who can travel time, I guess.”

“So it’s not all my fault that you broke ties with your family?”

“Of course not, Louis,” Harry says. “Even if we didn’t end up together, it was hard looking at them the same way after how much they lied to you.”

“So who’s Maxine staying with? If we don’t speak to your parents?”

“Well, mum and dad are alright now. They’ve turned things around in the past two years,” Harry says. “But Max is with other relatives.”

Louis hears Harry’s heart skip a beat. He waits for some elaboration and when there’s none, he nudges Harry’s knee with his own. ”Who? Which ones?”

Harry looks at him imploringly. “You keep asking questions I never intended to answer,” he says. “We agreed before you came here to keep things on a need-to-know basis.”

“Well, I need to know everything,” Louis says. “And you should’ve expected me to be curious. What kind of answer could be so mind-blowing anyway? All I asked was who Maxine is staying with.”

Harry sighs loudly, practically braying like a horse. “She’s with your sister.”

“My what ?” Louis asks, leaning his ear closer as if he didn’t hear him the first time.

“You have a sister,” Harry says. “Her name is Charlotte. We call her Lottie. I told you…I couldn’t look at my family the same way, knowing how much they lied… and this is why. Not just because they hid your potential as a vampire. They knew you might have other relatives and they never told you or tried to find them. Somehow you figured it out so we found your sister ourselves. She was living in America. It’s a long story, but you’ll learn it all in your own time.”

“How did I find out about her?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know… It was shortly after we fixed things between us, one day you just said you were pretty sure you had a sister…that someone had told you. You said you couldn’t remember who…which seemed strange at the time, but…” A thought visibly occurs to Harry and his eyes go wide. “Wait. I told you. I’m telling you right now!”

“Meaning you don’t erase this memory?”

“I guess not?” Harry says. “I guess… in order for you to find your sister in the past, I have to tell you about her in the future?”

“I feel like my bloody head’s going to explode,” Louis says. Or the space-time continuum will. Surely, the laws of the universe are in chaos right now. “What you’re saying, though, is it’s a good thing I’m so curious then, isn’t it?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.” At the sound of Louis’ laughter, he cracks a smile of his own. “Such a little shit.”

“What does that make you? A big shit?”

“I guess so. Since you’re like five inches shorter than me,” Harry says, shrugging.

Louis flips him a bird, prompting another round of laughter. Harry wipes the injection site on Louis’ skin clean but doesn’t bother with a bandage. By the time he’s tidied up and stored the blood bag, the tiny wound on Louis’ arm has already healed. He takes a seat at the table again, his knee brushing Louis’. Louis thinks of something else to say, but then he glances at Harry’s mouth, the almost imperceptible smile there, and he can’t think of anything else.

“You can kiss me whenever you want,” Harry says. “Just so you know.”

Now it’s Louis’ heart skipping a beat or several. “That’s no good,” he says, quietly, unable to look at him. “I might want to kiss you all the time.”

“So do it,” Harry says.

Still, Louis hesitates. “Won’t that make things worse between you and Older Me?”

“Like I said, he’s a jealous person. There’s no helping that.”

“Would you not be jealous if it was Older Me and Younger You getting close?”

“Is that what we’re doing? Getting close?” Harry asks with a cheeky, flirtatious smile. “I think that sounds hot actually. As long as I can watch.”

Louis puts his forehead in his palm for a moment. “Have you always been this horny?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Harry says. “It’s not like he’s any less horny. But he’s got the vampire bond to deal with, which complicates things. Normally, I don’t mind it. But this would all be a lot less stressful if he could see the potential for like…a threesome or something.”

Louis’ mouth drops open. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” Harry says, putting his face in his hands. “What I mean is that this is all hard enough without him making me feel guilty for how I am…with you. When I feel guilty enough as is.”

“For…the kiss?”

“For finding it easier to be with you right now than with him,” Harry says. “Me and him— we’re stressed for reasons you don’t understand. And it’s probably not fair that I’ve got you to take my mind off it all when he doesn’t have the same thing. Especially because what happens tomorrow is completely my fault. All of it. Paimon comes here because of me.”

“Wait. What are you saying?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. He shakes his head.

“I want to understand,” Louis says. “You can tell me. And if it’s not something I’m not meant to know, you can get rid of those memories afterwards. But I want to understand, Haz. You can talk to me.”

Harry pushes a few instruments around on his desk, ordering them in a neat line. “I don’t want you thinking less of me, too.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “There’s no way he thinks less of you.”

“You don’t understand, Louis.”

“I know I don’t. Explain it to me,” Louis insists.

Harry seems to consider it again, but before he decides one way or the other, there’s a knock at the door. Older Louis pushes the door open and glances at them both. “Can we talk?” he asks Harry.

Harry shoots Louis a smile and stands. “I’ll see you later,” he says and follows his husband out of the room.

+

That night, there’s no chance of Louis falling asleep, although for a while he tries. Aside from the fact he’s going to die tomorrow, he’s also spent all day wondering if his marriage is falling apart. Harry blames himself for Paimon coming after them and Louis wishes he knew why. He wishes he could help alleviate Harry’s guilt, but he also wants to kiss and touch Harry all the time, which wouldn’t help at all.

He finally gives up on trying to sleep and decides to have another swim.

These days, if not for his dorm room, he wouldn’t have a place he felt comfortable calling his own. During hols, when the dorms closed for a month, he spent nights on Zayn’s couch, and as hospitable as Zayn could be, Louis never felt like anything other than a guest. He feels like a guest now, too, but with an awareness that one day this will be his. It’s hard to believe it but one day he’ll have a home of his own and it’ll be the nicest home he’s ever stepped foot in.

It must be getting to his head at least a little because he comfortably navigates his way through the in-home bathhouse after his swim. He takes a lengthy shower using all the nozzle settings, tries out all the fancy soaps and shampoos and then parks himself at the sink where he finds more fancy soaps and some frothy shaving cream. He wonders if they’ve stocked the cabinets with spare razors and of course they have. So with a shrug, Louis decides he might as well shave.

He’s just found a towel from another cupboard below the sink and straightens up to find Harry reflected in the mirror to his left.

“Oh,” is all Harry has to say as if he’s not completely, utterly naked.

“Fuck, sorry,” Louis says, his gaze making a beeline for the floor, his head decorously bowed. His overt show of discretion embarrasses him, so he busies himself with turning on the tap to randomly wash his hands.

“It’s fine,” Harry says. “Sorry I surprised you.”

Louis peeks at the mirror again as Harry takes his time pulling his robe on. 

“Didn’t think you’d still be up,” says Harry.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I think that’s an effect of time travel. Like jet lag or something.” Harry twists his hair up into a bun and fastens it with a claw that was once attached to his robe. “How are you finding your stay otherwise?”

“Good, thanks to you,” Louis says. He studies him warily. “Are you alright?”

Harry shrugs and leans into the wall behind Louis. “I don’t know if alright is the word. I thought the steam would help, you know, with the nerves. But…” He trails off. “Also…we had a bit of a row.”

Louis reacts to that with a surprising jolt of alarm. “He’s an idiot,” he says suddenly. “Whatever it is, it’s his fault.”

Something flickers through Harry’s otherwise placid expression. “I’ll remind you of this conversation in the future.”

Louis throws him a smile. “That’s fine with me.”

Harry goes on looking at him. “I like it better when you don’t shave, by the way.”

“You’ve said that in the past,” Louis says.

“Eventually, you start listening to me,” Harry says. “Maybe starting now.”

Louis lifts his brows. “I’m getting the sense you think you’re the boss of me in our old age.”

Harry laughs. “I think of myself more as the baby. You’re the boss,” he says. “And you like to give me what I want.”

Their eyes lock for a moment then. Like yesterday, Harry’s gaze drifts down Louis’ torso, although this time he doesn’t try to hide it. They’re alone, wearing nothing aside from a robe or a towel. And Louis might be hiding a semi.

“You seem a bit peckish,” says Louis.

“I always am around you.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “Is it actually me that turns you on or him?”

Harry’s face creases with confusion. “You’re the same person.”

“No, we’re not. Not yet. And there’s no way you’re attracted to us for all the same reasons.”

“You’re right… Most of the reasons are the same, but not all. I think it’s cute how shy you are, for one. How you pretend to be uninterested while hiding a semi. You’re more arrogant too. More stubborn. I know you, but you feel unfamiliar to me, which makes things even more exciting. I think that nearly sums it up. But there’s no difference in how much I want either of you,” Harry says. “I can prove it, if you want.”

Louis licks his lips and exhales slowly, his gaze glued to Harry’s reflection as Harry takes a step closer. And then another.

“I’m not shy,” Louis says.

“So, you’re just uninterested?” Harry asks, despite knowing the opposite is true.

“You know I’m not uninterested.”

“I know,” Harry says. He slips his arms around Louis’ waist and for a moment he just holds him, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis can hear his heart racing. He can hear the shallow breath he draws before pressing a kiss to Louis’ shoulder blade and flattening his palms on Louis’ stomach.

“Just so you know, he threatened to kill me yesterday,” Louis says, just for something to say. “If we got up to anything. Aside from a kiss, I think.”

“He won’t kill you,” Harry says. “And I’m upset with him right now, so I don’t care.”

Then Harry slips his hand under the towel around Louis’ waist and cups his cock.

Louis’ eyes roll shut. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes.

“How’s that?” Harry asks.

Louis nods, unable or perhaps unwilling to say outright that it feels good. But the truth is it feels amazing.

At first, Harry merely massages the tip of Louis’ cock with his thumb, clearly just toying with him or gauging Louis’ interest in going further. Louis has no intention of cutting anything short. He’s never wanted anything as badly as he wants more .

And he gets it, finally, when Harry encircles Louis’ cock with a snug fist and begins pumping with practised measured ease. Handjobs aren’t complicated, but he’s also never had one this good. It’s Harry’s focus, perhaps, that sets it apart. It’s the way he pauses to lick his palm and then twists his damp hand a few times around Louis’ cockhead. Then, slick with saliva and precum, his hand quickens.

“I want you in my mouth…” Harry says, quietly, the words brushing Louis’ earlobe.

Some part of Louis’ focus slips and he swears he nearly comes. He opens his mouth to speak but can’t.

“I want you inside me,” Harry says so, so quietly, it’s almost a whisper.

“Oh my fucking—” Louis’ voice turns to air. “ Fuck .”

Harry’s hand slips away before Louis can come. “Lou,” he begs, pressing several kisses along Louis’ neck, and Louis might not be married to him or even dating him yet, but he knows Harry. In that moment, he knows to turn and allow Harry to kiss him.

“I meant what I said,” Harry says, breathlessly, his fingertips brushing the towel around Louis’ waist. “Can I?”

“Can you what?” Louis asks dazedly.

Harry sinks to his knees in front of him. He looks up at him patiently, licking his lips so that they’re damp and shiny and inviting.

Louis squeezes the edge of the sink counter until his knuckles turn bone white. “Yeah…yeah,” he stutters. “Please.”

His stomach clenches as Harry pushes the towel off and to the ground. He can hardly contain or comprehend the odd mix of embarrassment and arousal that unfurls in his belly at the sight of his hard cock in Harry’s face. Yesterday or the day before, the embarrassment might have outweighed everything else, but now the truth is that nothing could keep him from the tight heat of Harry’s mouth.

“You’re so perfect, Louis,” Harry says, and then he leans in and tucks his lips around the head of Louis’ cock.

Louis’ knees nearly buckle, but that’d push his embarrassment right over the edge. Instead, he presses his hands more firmly into the countertop and when that doesn’t help much, he slides a hand into Harry’s soft hair and holds tight.

Harry moans and presses in further until Louis’ cock nudges the back of his throat. Louis’ knees do actually buckle. His toes curl. He’s not sure how he stays upright when the suction Harry applies makes him feel like his soul is slipping out of his body. Every part of him tingles and tightens. The nerves in the pit of his stomach ignite.

“Fuck, I can’t,” Louis says. “I’m gonna come.”

Harry stands and takes Louis’ slick cock in hand again. He leans in as if to kiss him but doesn’t, his lips hovering an inch from Louis’. Louis has to kiss him. He has to touch him. He finds himself leaning in only for Harry to lean away, a small smile on his face.

“Come for me, Louis,” Harry says, brushing their lips together. “Or did you want you to come in my mouth?”

Yes. The answer is obviously yes, but Louis doesn’t get the chance to say so. He’s delirious, hanging onto his composure by a thread when the thread snaps. And he comes hard, all over Harry’s fist and his robe. Harry goes on stroking him, littering kisses along Louis’ jaw and neck until Louis is spent.

Wordlessly, Harry withdraws his hand, wiping most of Louis’ spunk off on his robe. The rest he sucks into his mouth and licks from his fingers. They look at one another without speaking for several seconds more.

“I feel much better,” Harry reports. “I think I’ll have a glass of wine.”

Chapter Text

Louis wakes with a start, expecting to see the interior of his dorm room at UCL. Or even his childhood bedroom. Of course neither is the case.

He’s accepted that none of this is a dream, although that doesn’t make it any less surreal. He rolls onto his back and looks around, trying to glean little bits of Harry’s future life from the guest bedroom. Bits of his own future too since the two are intertwined.

He can tell it’s earlier than he’d like it to be, but now that he’s up and his mind is going, he won’t be able to get back to sleep. He stands, goes to the window and stares out at the misty line of trees behind the home. And when he grows tired of that, he heads down to the kitchen.

Once again, Harry and Older Louis are at the kitchen table, nursing coffees and doing so in utter silence. He can feel the tension in the room before he’s even stepped fully inside. He expects it to be tense, given what will go down today. But he worries there’s more to it.

Louis struggles to make eye contact with his older self while Harry pours a cup of coffee for him. He’s trying to play it cool, not because he’s afraid but he thinks it’s best not to provoke the older vampire. Harry clearly doesn’t share the same sense of discretion. He goes so far as to wink at Louis across the kitchen table, which Older Louis absolutely clocks.

In the time it takes for Harry to butter his toast, no one says a word. 

“Did you fuck him?” Older Louis asks, suddenly, punctuated by a sip of his coffee.

Louis chokes on his own coffee.

Harry huffs a laugh. “Not quite yet.”

Both Louis’ gawk at him.

“Guess you had more than one reason for bringing him here, then,” says Older Louis. “Should I worry about you jetting off to the past whenever we disagree now?”

“You make it sound as easy as hopping on a flight,” Harry says.

“That doesn’t sound like no,” Older Louis says. “So if it were easier, you would?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I’ve got no clue what you’re saying. I’m the one here trying to think of a plan while you’re busy getting your dick wet.”

“We already have a plan and we should stick to it. I don’t know why you’re trying to change things now in the fucking eleventh hour.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, love,” Older Louis says. “You don’t think?”

“No, it’s not. He could show up at any minute—”

“Hopefully you won’t be riding this one when he does,” Older Louis says waving towards Louis.

“Don’t be a dick,” Harry says.

Older Louis’ brows shoot upward. “Says you?”

Louis’ gaze darts back and forth between the two of them. “What exactly is it you disagreed on yesterday?” he dares to ask.

“None of your business,” Older Louis says.

“He thinks I should create a golem,” Harry says. “A sort of breathing animated copy of myself to lure Paimon out instead of actually exposing myself. That way Louis takes on all the risk while I sit cosy indoors.”

“Because there’s no point in us both being in danger,” Older Louis says.

“We already know what will happen,” Harry says.

“No,” says Older Louis. “We know part of what will happen. We don’t actually know what happens afterwards. Once I’m down, he’d likely turn on you straight away.”

“So, I’ll fight him,” Harry says. “I have to.”

Louis raises his hand like an uncertain kid in a classroom. “Isn’t the whole point of this blood transfusion spell for it to be done immediately? If you waste time fighting Paimon won’t that make it harder to save the old man here?”

Harry looks at Louis, a frustrated flush creeping up his neck. “I don’t know,” he says. “But someone still has to stop him.”

“I mean, I’m not useless,” Louis says. “And he won’t see me coming since he wouldn’t expect there to be two versions of me, yeah? We could go with the golem plan. Then you dash out, get Old Me to safety. I come out and tear that dickhead’s heart out of his chest. He’ll never see either of us coming.”

“No,” Harry says. “You absolutely can’t be exposed whatsoever. If something were to happen to you, this would all be pointless. This future wouldn’t exist.”

“So what’s your plan?” Louis asks.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Once it happens, however it happens, I’ll use a binding spell on Paimon. Then I’ll jump me and Louis into the lab downstairs. If I have to fight Paimon off to escape, I will.”

“Using a golem would make it easier for you to bind him,” Older Louis says. “While he’s distracted. If you try to go for him head-on, he’d see it coming.”

“Fine,” Harry says. “If that’s what you want, fine.”

“That’s what I want,” Older Louis says, sitting back in his seat. “It’s coming back to me now what we did in the bathhouse. I get that it’s easier to be with a younger version of me right now but if you could hold off on doing anything else until after we save our family, that’d be great.”

Harry keeps his gaze averted. “It is easier to be with him,” he says. “But only ‘cause I know you blame me for everything. I don’t see how you wouldn’t.”

“Why the fuck would I blame you?” Older Louis asks.

“Because it’s my fault, Louis!” Alarmingly, Harry presses his fingertips into his eyelids to stop himself from crying. “I fucked everything up. And that's probably why you want me to sit inside, yeah? So I don't fuck this up too.”

“I don't understand," Louis says. "Why do you keep saying that? You keep saying it's your fault.”

Harry exhales a shuddering breath and drops his hands, revealing his flushed face and eyes. “Maxine is Paimon’s biological daughter,” he says in one breath.

All Louis can think to say is, “Shit.”

Shit, shit, shit .

With just that bit of context, the gravity of their situation is suddenly crushing. Paimon is not some aimless villain, seeking to destroy their lives for the fun of it. Maybe this is fun to him, but he’s got a very clear, very obvious stake in play.

“The reason I cut ties with the Council three years ago was ‘cause of her,” Harry goes on. “Because she’s part witch, part demon and part vampire. The Council was terrified of her and they wanted to lock her away too. Raise her in a controlled facility or something. I thought it was ridiculous and fucked up and you agreed. So, we adopted her. And we never looked back. And then I thought about you. About you never having contact with your parents. And I thought I didn’t want to be like my parents. So I reached out to him.”

“Paimon?”

Harry nods once. “And I mentioned her. I wanted him to know she was being taken care of, that we weren’t trying to erase him or her history. I never thought he’d break out of prison or that the first thing he’d think to do was come after her. I never fucking think. Did I expect he’d want us all to sit down and have a friendly fucking chat? And shake your hand? Clearly, I expected everything aside from him literally stabbing you in the heart.”

“That’s enough,” Older Louis says.

“No, it isn’t. It’s not enough because you’re going to fucking die because of me. And you won’t even admit you fucking blame me. For ruining your life. For putting our child in danger.”

“Harry,” Older Louis says. “Stop.”

“He’s right,” Louis says. “You wanted Max to feel as loved as possible. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But where did that get her?” Harry asks. “She could lose you. How loved will she feel then?”

“Harry,” Louis says again, pleading. He’s not remotely equipped to tackle this the way his older self is. But when he looks at Older Louis, he’s motionless and unresponsive. Louis begins to wonder whether it’s true, that Older Louis blames Harry. And if so, Louis doesn’t know what to do but sit there and watch as thread after thread comes loose between them, wondering how much longer they have until all the seams burst.

“I told you, though, Lou… You have a choice,” Harry says with finality. “You can go back and choose someone else. And maybe that way…this will never happen.”

Louis’ heart feels like it stops then. Or shatters perhaps.

Harry’s phone starts blaring on the kitchen table startling them all in the tense silence. He drags the back his hand across his damp face and lifts the phone to his ear. “This is Harry,” he says, his voice brittle and hoarse.

Thanks to his heightened hearing, Louis can hear Harry’s mum on the other line. She’s frantic as she says, “Harry, it’s Maxine.”

“What?”

Older Louis has heard it too, turning away from the window swiftly.

“He’s taken her,” says Adrianne. “You have to come quickly.”

“No, but she wasn’t with you. How ?” Harry seethes. “How did this happen?”

“Come quickly,” Adrianne urges.

“But—” Harry’s eyes widen as he spots Older Louis grabbing his car keys off the kitchen counter. “Louis, wait.”

“You have to come now, Harry,” says the voice on the other line. “He’s getting away.”

As panicked as Louis feels, he’ll be honest and say he’s never known Adrianne to sound so rattled. Granted the kidnap of Harry and Louis’ daughter might inspire some panic, but even in times of apparent crisis, he’s never known her to show fear, to lose her cool or raise her voice. The person on the phone simply doesn’t sound like Harry’s mum.

If Older Louis weren’t rattled himself, maybe he’d hear that too. But by the time Harry clocks on to the imposter on the other line, it’s too late.

“Louis,” Harry shouts, tossing his mobile onto the nearest surface blindly and he dashes for the door. 

Louis hurries after them and finds them in the drive.

“You can’t leave,” Harry says to Older Louis. “That’s what he wants.”

“I can’t get Lottie on the phone,” Older Louis says. “She’s not answering. If everything was fine, she’d answer.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Harry says. “She might’ve just stepped away from her phone. He doesn’t even know where she is. And we made sure it’d be impossible to find her.”

“Not impossible,” Older Louis says.

“Just about then. Let’s just go back inside and regroup. We just—”

Harry trails off, whipping around to face the road. Older Louis gets out of the car quickly, yanking Harry by the wrist so he’s positioned just behind him.

There at the end of the property, perched in a tree towering above the house is Paimon. Louis knows it’s him because he’s never seen a being more menacing. His skin is almost grey, his hair a bone white, protruding cheekbones, and long wiry arms. And in those arms, still as a doll, is a little girl. Somehow Louis also knows it’s Max.

“It’s a glamour,” Harry says. “It’s not her.”

But Older Louis is in a rage. He turns to his younger self. “Get inside now,” he says.

“Louis,” Harry says.

“I don’t care if it’s a trick,” Older Louis says. “I care that this man is terrorizing our family and he has to be stopped.”

Harry presses his hands to his face to stop himself from crying. “Please listen to me.”

“No, you listen,” Older Louis says. “I could never blame you for this. The only reason I have a family is ‘cause of you. And I’ll prove it to you.” He takes Harry’s face into his palms and presses a firm crushing kiss to his mouth. “I trust you. I know you’ll bring me back.”

Then Older Louis disappears and with vampiric speed, reappears at the end of the drive.

Harry turns to Louis, distraught and stricken with tears. “Inside,” he says. “Please. It’ll be alright.”

Louis hesitates, staring wide-eyed at the scene before him. He has an alarming thought that this could be the last time he sees either of them. He doesn’t know what would happen if he lost Harry, if he were stuck here in the future, and if he did find his way back to the past, how would he explain to Harry there that he’d failed to protect their future.

Louis quickly returns inside without another thought. He goes to the window overlooking the front garden to watch, but Harry, Louis and Paimon all disappear from view. 

+ 

Louis heads down to the lab, feeling both inside and outside of his body. He finds his way to the lab easily and takes a seat at the table. To anyone looking, he’d appear placid, almost robotic. Internally, he’s in shambles. All he wishes is that his own Harry was here. If they were going through this together, they could manage it. But Louis isn’t sure he can withstand this on his own. He feels like screaming. He feels like throwing the glass beakers beside him against the wall. He feels like curling into a ball and sobbing.

His imagination runs rampant with all the horrible ways the fight is playing out. What if Harry comes back missing a limb? What if he’s able to save Louis only to bleed out and die himself? Louis thinks he might be sick. He goes to the nearest sink and hovers over the basin in case he vomits.

Suddenly the air ripples and vibrates violently and when everything is still, Harry and Older Louis are on the floor in the center of the room. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight of his older self, his entire torso bloodied, any visible skin greying with every second that passes. “Louis,” Harry snaps and it takes Louis a moment too long to realise Harry is calling him. He blinks and hurries to join them.

It’s odd to see Harry’s face drenched in tears as he works quickly to tear Louis’ shirt open. His terror and heartbreak is palpable, but he’s never looked more determined. 

“Scalpel,” Harry says, so Louis darts over to the table and gets the scalpel. “Get the bag from the fridge too.”

In the meantime, he hears Harry chanting an incantation. He feels the air beginning to crystallize and cool until he can see his breath condense in front of him.

Harry explained the elaborate process he would use last night. First, he’d teleport Older Louis and himself to the study. Then, he’d freeze time around Older Louis’ body. Freezing time feels literally like freezing anything would. But Harry’s theory is that the effect will be similar to preserving an organ by putting it on ice. It’ll also slow the rate at which Older Louis’ other organs begin to shut down due to blood loss.

Next, Harry will begin the transfusion and the reconstruction of Older Louis’ heart. He doesn’t hesitate before yanking Louis’ wrist close and pressing the scalpel into Louis’ skin. He begins another incantation and a thin line of blood leaves his body and flows into his older self’s. Harry draws from the blood bag as well, then presses his hands close to the site of the injury. He alternates between chanting the blood spell and a healing spell, speaking more quickly than Louis ever even thought possible.

Harry’s nose begins to bleed, but he doesn’t notice or care. His eyes slip shut. His words are nearly silent, but insistent. “Come on, Louis,” he says, breaking his focus momentarily. “Please.”

Louis didn’t plan for this part, but he begins to prepare himself to comfort Harry. He tries to think of what he’ll need to say and do if Harry loses his husband here. He’s less concerned about witnessing his own death and more concerned about helping Harry through it. What would Older Louis do to help him? Louis will have to figure it out.

For a moment, Harry’s eyes roll worryingly as if he’s on the brink of passing out, but he draws a deep breath and keeps chanting.

Another thought occurs to Louis that Harry might never stop chanting, that he might sit here all night — all week and beyond — demanding that his magic do what the fuck he needs it to do. He’s never been one to give up and his determination is more critical now than ever. What if he can’t give up? What about the daughter he still needs to raise?

Louis is shocked when he feels tears slip down his own cheeks, but he can’t help but shed a tear for Harry, for his older self and for Maxine. “Harry,” he says weakly.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and stops chanting. “I have to unfreeze him,” he says. “That’s it.”

Louis keeps quiet as Harry performs the incantation to unfreeze the time around and within Older Louis’ body. He keeps quiet as they wait for Older Louis’ mended heart to beat. After a second, Harry’s face crumbles and he leans over Louis’ torso to cry.

Louis scoots closer to him. “It’s alright,” he says, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist. He rests his forehead on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, love.”

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, curled over Older Louis’ dead body. He’s afraid to move, to be honest. Once he stands, once they leave this room, it’ll be solidified that he died there, that he will die there someday. But it must count for something that Louis will die in the arms of someone he loved more than life itself, someone who always gave everything to save him.

Louis lifts his head off Harry’s shoulder, blinking through the tears in his eyes. “Harry,” he says again, though Harry is unresponsive and catatonic, lying limply over his husband’s body. “Harry, I think he needs blood.”

Harry looks at him. Then just as quickly, he sits upright. He reaches for the scalpel lying beside him and quickly draws it across his wrist. Then he presses his wrist to Older Louis’ mouth. “Come on, Louis,” he says again, quietly. “Come back.”

Harry can’t hear it, but Louis does. That first thrum of Older Louis’ heart. Followed by a second and a third. Followed by a steady constant beat.

Older Louis’ hands close around Harry’s arm to Harry’s complete shock and the vampire drinks and drinks and drinks. Louis sees Harry sway just before he collapses into Louis’ open arms.

“That’s enough,” Louis says just as Older Louis pulls his mouth away from Harry’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, love,” Older Louis says, his voice hoarse. He touches Harry’s forehead gently, brushing his damp hair away from his skin. “Look at me, baby.”

“I’m alright,” Harry says weakly.

“You’re alright,” Older Louis echoes, kissing his wrist. “You did it, babe.”

Harry dissolves into quiet tears for the millionth time that day. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“You've got nothing to be sorry for,” Older Louis says, pulling Harry into his own arms, running his hand through his hair. “You said I have a choice, yeah? I choose you. Always. Nothing could make me want anything else.”

“Louis,” Harry exhales, sounding both tired and relieved somehow. It’s both a statement and a question. A concession and a cry for help. Louis doesn’t know how to answer Harry when he says his name like that but Older Louis does.

The older vampire looks at his younger self. “Hey, little one,” he says. “Thanks for saving me.”

Louis shrugs. “No big deal. Did it for myself.”

Older Louis gives him a genuinely amused smile for the first time. “Give us a second, yeah?”

Louis hesitates, unable to resist jealousy or annoyance, but he remembers quickly that this isn’t about him. He’s got nothing to prove right now. All he wants is for Harry to feel okay and to feel reassured. And one day in the future, he’ll be in the position to make that happen. One day, he’ll be the man pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead, whispering soothing words to him. He’s not that man yet but he will be. So he takes a final glance at them and leaves the room.

+

Sitting out by the pool afterwards feels anticlimactic. An hour prior, Louis was preparing to mourn himself. Now he doesn’t know what to do with himself at all.

He leaves his seat and the pool and returns to his room where he changes out of his bloodstained t-shirt. He should take a shower, but until he sees Harry and confirms everything is alright, he’s still on high alert. It all seems like an incredibly visceral dream, but he knows it isn’t. If anything it was a nightmare and it doesn’t entirely feel over yet.

Then there’s a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Louis calls.

Harry steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

“How’s the old man doing?” Louis asks.

With a shake of his head and a laugh, Harry says, “You know you stopped ageing like three years ago. And you’ve never looked better.”

“Somehow I find that insulting.”

“I don’t see why. You’re also very hot at your current age.”

Louis tries to hide his smile and fails.

“Also, he’s fine, thanks to you. Feeding helped a lot. He’s mostly healed, just tired.”

At the mention of feeding, Louis breaks eye contact. No matter how he tries, he can’t get the image of his older self feeding from Harry out of his head. He tries not to think about feeding and Harry at the same time at all. Once those thoughts start, they tend not to stop.

“And how’s Maxine?” Louis asks.

“She’s safe. She’s on her way back,” Harry says as he approaches the bed. “One day, I’ll have to explain to her what we did and why.”

“What did you do?”

Harry takes a seat on the bed beside Louis. He buys a moment, thinking back to it all. “I tried to talk some sense into him at first, but you were more aggressive. I think I wanted to believe we could all still walk away from this unscathed, but you knew better. You knew he’d never leave us alone. Paimon attacked first. And we both fought him for a while. There was another witch nearby, but she was a novice. I was able to knock her pretty quickly. But while I was distracted, Paimon went for me. And you know…you didn’t let him. When he…stabbed you, you held on for a bit. I used a binding spell on Paimon. Then…you took hold of his hand and you pulled him close, even if that meant drawing the blade deeper into your own body,” he says, his voice breaking. He clears his throat and exhales. “And you put your fist through his chest.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis says. He doesn’t love admitting it, but he does, in fact, respect and admire his older self. Even more so now.

“I know,” Harry says. “I used a spell to incinerate Paimon’s body and then I jumped us back here.”

The scene plays out in full vivid colour in Louis’ head. “I think Max will understand when she’s old enough.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I know we raised a great kid. I know she won’t hold it against us. She’ll probably have a lot of questions, but so long as we’re honest with her, she’ll understand. That’s all I wanted growing up. For people to be honest with me. I think, as long as you do that, it’ll be alright.”

Harry chews the inside of his chew as he considers that. “I think you’re right.”

“I know you reached out to him ‘cause of me. I know you want her to have the best possible life. And you thought she deserved better than how things were for me. But I turned alright, didn’t I?”

Harry releases a breathy laugh. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you. But it still wasn’t fair how my family treated you. You still deserved better. And I thought… Maxine deserved better.”

“She has you,” Louis says. “Doesn’t get any better than that.”

They look at one another.

“In the last few hours, I feel like I’ve fallen ten times harder for you and I don’t know how that’s even possible,” Harry says.

Louis grins. “I’ve got unlimited amounts of charm,” he says. He’s sure Older Louis jumping in front of a literal fucking sword for Harry’s sake also has a lot to do with it. “I feel the same, though. Thank you for saving me.”

“Always,” Harry says. “Thank you for saving me .”

“Any time,” Louis says.

Harry glances at Louis’ smiling mouth and runs his palms along his trousers nervously. “Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t feeling my best and I said some things earlier that I didn’t mean. I definitely don’t want you to marry Clair.”

“I definitely won’t marry Clair,” Louis says.

“Good,” Harry says. He looks at him again. And Louis knows they’ll kiss. Either he’ll lean in or Harry will, but either way, it’ll happen. And Louis wants — needs — it to happen.

“Max will be back in an hour,” Harry says, suddenly. “I have to get dinner ready for her.”

“Oh,” Louis says, dropping his hand. “Can I…see her?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“The old man’s asleep, and she probably won’t know the difference between us,” Louis says. “And you’re going to erase my memories of her anyhow.”

Harry hesitates. “I guess…when you put it like that…there’s no harm,” he says. “But maybe when she’s nearly asleep. I don’t want to risk confusing her, if she starts asking questions.”

“Okay,” Louis says. “Thanks, Haz.”

Harry lingers a moment. Louis would still really like that kiss. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry says, standing. “I’ll come find you when it’s time.”

+

When the door shuts, Louis has to move. First, he just gets to his feet and stretches his arms over his head. Then he gets to the floor and does a few push-ups. He paces to the en-suite and back to the bed, then again and again. He stands in the en-suite for a while, fixing his hair that’s been fully ruined by Harry’s hands.

When he feels too antsy to stay in his room, he leaves entirely and goes up to the rooftop, which is quickly becoming his favourite part of the house. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the old cigarette case he found in one of the desk drawers in his future office. Given that it was buried beneath a stack of books, he concluded that his older self no longer smokes, aside from weed and an occasional cigar.

As he slides one of the last remaining cigarettes out, he wonders when Future Louis kicked the nicotine habit. He reaches back into his pocket for the lighter he also nicked from the office and hesitates. Then, he tucks both the cigarette and the case away. Because he’s also just concluded that the nicotine habit likely dissipated when they brought Maxine home.

Louis reclines on a lounge chair and tries not to think of anything at all. He must doze off because the next thing he knows Harry is hovering over him. In his arms is a little girl, turned away from Louis, her head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“I’m taking her to bed now,” Harry says.

Louis sits upright quickly, his heart thudding. “I’ll come too,” he says, getting to his feet.

Harry smiles and starts back to the house. With Harry’s back to him, Louis glimpses their daughter’s face, her curly reddish hair. There are freckles on her nose and forehead. Her small hand is curled in Harry’s hair. Her mouth is slightly open, meaning she’s likely drooling on Harry’s shoulder. Louis doubts that Harry cares about that. Louis knows he wouldn’t.

In the corridor, as they approach her room, Maxine lifts her head and blinks sleepily at Louis. She opens and closes her hand and Louis’ heart once again skips a beat when he realises she’s waved at him. He waves back as Harry pushes the bedroom door open.

The room is decorated with dark and baby blues, with one wall featuring a mural of the night sky and gleaming golden stars and the other of a cloudy day and a golden sun. All the furniture is painted a dreamy beige. The bed is adorned by a gauzy white canopy. There’s soft music playing from a sort of night light radio contraption on the bedside table.

Harry lowers their daughter into her bed and draws her blanket up around her. He leans in and presses a kiss to her head, then he steps aside for Louis. “Go on,” he says quietly.

Louis tries to embody the cool fatherly demeanour his older self possesses, but he’s still blown away by how small their daughter is. She has no idea who he truly is or why he’s here. She doesn’t know that she nearly lost him earlier that day. All she has to think about is whatever dreams she’ll have in this room. And not even the conundrum of its walls that are both starry and sunny will trouble her. That’s Louis’ job, he realises — or at least, it will be one day:

To make sure she’s safe and unbothered for as long as he possibly can.

Which is a lot to comprehend when Louis is still learning how to care for and unburden himself.

“It’s alright,” Harry whispers, squeezing Louis’ hand briefly. “She’s just family. Just like me. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Louis leans in and presses a kiss to Maxine’s forehead like Harry did. She looks at him once more, with a small smile, and her eyes slip shut. Alarmingly, Louis thinks there are tears building in his eyes. He withdraws and glances at Harry. “Thanks.”

Harry smiles and shakes his head as if to say, ‘don’t mention it’. Then he nods towards the door and Louis follows him out.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks in the hallway after he’s pulled the door shut.

“It’s a lot,” Louis confesses.

“Having a family of your own?”

Louis looks at him, his vision a bit blurred. “Yeah,” he says and clears his throat. “I might go have a shower.”

And a little cry in the privacy of his room.

“I’m sorry if that was too much,” Harry says with an audible question mark. “When we were kids, you’d talk about having a family of your own one day. I hoped this would make you happy.”

Louis exhales and presses his hand over his eyes. “You’ve got no idea,” he says, his voice clotted with emotion. When he drops his hand, his palm comes away damp. “I’m so fucking happy.”

“Louis,” Harry says, stepping closer, drawing him into his arms. A hug is probably exactly what Louis needs, but not if he wants to avoid crying. His eyes well up again and rather than fight it, he just rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and gives in.

Chapter Text

Louis doesn’t have a full-bodied cry in the shower like he expects to. To be fair, he’s never been one to outright sob, but seeing the daughter he’ll have one day could’ve rightly set him off.

The urge slipped away, though, the longer Harry held him in his arms. And when Harry finally let him go and pressed a quick kiss to Louis’ forehead, the shock and the weight of happiness lessened until only the happiness remained, until Louis was convinced he deserved it all and could truly have it.

Tomorrow he’ll go home to the present where he’s at odds with Harry, estranged from his adopted family and trying to find his footing as a full-fledged vampire. 

But he has to do it, especially when the promise of suffering through all that is having a future like this.

After he’s dressed and in bed, he doesn’t know whether to sleep or wait. He’s not sure if Harry is giving him space or perhaps Older Louis is awake and he’s occupying all of Harry’s attention. It’s insane how much that bothers him. He never used to dwell too much on Harry dating other people. Now just the thought makes him antsy.

He stares at the ceiling for a while, resigning himself to another sleepless night.

Suddenly, the door opens and Louis lifts his head as Harry pokes his head in. “Still awake?”

“Waiting for you,” Louis says boldly. He lifts one end of the duvet.

Harry pushes the door shut and crosses the room. He slips under the covers wordlessly and shuffles close.

“Will your husband not mind you sleeping here? Not that I care…” Louis says.

“Who says I’m sleeping here? Maybe I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Good night,” Louis says.

“Are you trying to get me to leave?”

“No. I want you to stay,” Louis says.

“We had a talk about it. Me and him,” Harry says.

“How’d that go?”

“Firstly, I don’t want you to think I was ever using you…to avoid my problems with Older You.”

“I never thought that.”

“Or that what we did last night had anything to do with Older You. Because I meant what I said about wanting you both. It’s impossible for me not to want you both. Older You is my husband and my partner, the other father to my daughter. He takes care of us. We bicker every now and then, but that’s marriage and I wouldn’t want to work at any of this with anyone else. And I see all of those same things in you. You kept me calm today. You comforted me. You made me laugh. You’re my partner too.”

“I get it,” Louis says, listening as Harry’s heart rate thrums a bit more quickly and unsteadily the more he talks.

“That’s what I explained to him,” Harry says. “And he gets it too.”

“I also understand why he hates sharing, to be fair.”

Harry smiles and wriggles even closer, draping his arm across Louis’ waist. “Tomorrow, you’ll have your own Harry back and you won’t have to share him with anyone.”

“Until we get older and all this shit happens.”

“Well, yeah. But you won’t really remember that.”

Louis feels a dull throb in his heart at the thought.

“One day, you’ll remember,” Harry adds. “Louis says he remembers things as they happen. But tomorrow, I promise none of this will matter. Once you fix things with your Harry, it’ll be all you care about.”

It sounds easier said than done, considering Louis doesn’t even know where to start. He lifts his hand and touches Harry’s jaw, his pace quickening when Harry turns his head and presses a quick kiss to his palm. 

“If I get back and tell your past self that I’m in love with him, will that help or scare him off?”

“Are you in love with him?” Harry asks.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

After he’s said it, Louis panics, as if this version of Harry isn’t his husband. The fear of rejection still strikes him as expected. But then he looks at Harry, at the small gentle smile on his face, and the fear recedes.

Harry sets his hand atop Louis’. “I don’t know if that’s the same thing, babe,” he says. “And I can’t tell you what to say because you’ll figure it all out on your own. But you shouldn’t feel rushed.”

“I think it might be difficult to slow down now that I’ve been with you at all. The wait might kill me.”

“And you call me dramatic.”

“You are,” Louis says.

Harry gives him a look “You won’t have to wait that long… He’ll feel very motivated, that’s all I’ll say.”

Louis turns that statement over a few times in his head. 

“Once you figure things out, you’ll enjoy every moment together, even if it’s slow-paced or a little awkward,” Harry says. “I know I did. All of this has more meaning when you’ve built it from the ground up.”

“That’s poetic of you,” Louis says.

Harry shrugs. “I like to think I’m a poetic person. I’ve written you some poems. A few love notes, too.”

“Oh yeah? When should I expect those?”

“Well, one of them…was written a long time ago.”

“Excuse me? How long ago?”

Harry hesitates. “I had a little crush on you when we were kids. I wrote about how cute I thought you were, that’s all.”

“I want to read it,” Louis declares.

“Ask your Harry,” Harry says. “I’ve already shown my Louis and I don’t want to face the embarrassment twice.”

Louis laughs, his heart swelling at the thought of little Harry writing him a love note, then keeping it to himself for years. It’s funny how his feelings have cast their history in new bright colours. He loves every version of Harry. He’s grateful he gets to know each one. “You are my Harry,” he says. “Every Harry is mine.”

Harry’s smile grows exponentially. “Now who’s poetic?” he says, laughing. “Not that you’re wrong, but fucking hell.”

Louis watches him and the way his laughter makes him impossibly more beautiful. Every Harry is his, but at the moment, he only has this one and he never wants to be without him.

“I really don’t want to forget you.”

Harry’s smile dissipates. He reaches out, brushing his thumb over Louis’ cheek. “I don’t want you to forget me either,” he confesses. “But…I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. In your future.”

“I can’t wait,” Louis says, leaning into him. “I can’t fucking wait for you.”

Harry hums happily when their mouths finally meet. He indulges Louis as he kisses him as much as and wherever he pleases, on his lips, his cheek, his forehead. Louis kisses him and kisses him as if the more fervently he does, the more time the universe will grant him to do so.

Harry pushes himself upright and without pause, he slings his leg across Louis’ thighs and plants himself in his lap. Louis sits upright as well, his hands gripping Harry’s waist. He never wants this to stop.

“Do you need a drink?”

Then everything stops.

“What?” Louis asks. Almost immediately he realises Harry must mean a glass of wine, a cup of tea, a bottle of water. And not the other thing that’s constantly on his mind. It’s a bit ill-timed of him to ask now, but maybe he wants to slow things down. Maybe he wants a bit more foreplay. “Sure, if you’re having one. The Malbec or whatever was nice.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of drink,” Harry says, carefully. “Today took a lot out of you too.”

Louis doesn’t know how he keeps his composure. He dissociates most likely. “I’m fine,” he says. “But if you’ve got a blood bag to spare, maybe, yeah— I’d take that too, sure.”

“We do keep blood bags around,” Harry says. “But I’m also right here.”

Louis swallows, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “Harry,” he says weakly. “We don’t really do that.”

“We will,” Harry says.

Louis looks at him, at his mouth. He can hear the steady, seductive thump of blood in his veins. “You fed the other me plenty.”

“Don’t worry. I’m strong. It’s why we make such a good pair,” Harry says, stroking Louis’ face soothingly. “If you’re not ready, for any of this, you can figure it all out in your own time on your own terms. But I think you want to feed. And I want you to feed. So, feed.”

“I thought you said I was the boss,” Louis says. And it amazes him he has the composure left to be humorous.

“That’s right. You are,” Harry says, clearly amused. “Would you like the robe on or off?”

Louis licks his lips. “Open…for now.”

So, Harry draws the sash of his robe loose and the robe falls open. He’s, of course, entirely naked underneath. Louis looks at every bit of bare skin he can see and thinks “mine.” He drags his hands down his flushed face and meets Harry’s gaze again.

Harry pushes his robe down one shoulder, exposing his neck. Louis feels his fangs sharpen in response. He licks his parched lips and leans into him.

“That’s it,” Harry says, pushing his hands into Louis’ hair and Louis sinks his fangs into Harry’s jugular. He reaches up and takes Harry’s jaw between his thumb and fingers to keep him steady. 

Harry’s fingers curl into fists in Louis’ hair and a shudder ripples through his body, so forcefully that Louis would worry about him coming apart if he weren’t holding him firmly together.

They both groan. For Harry, there’s likely a jolt of pain followed by a rush of euphoria. For Louis, it’s purely the latter. Harry’s blood warms him from the inside out. His veins feel as though they’re tingling, like they’re filled with champagne. It’s difficult to stop. He honestly never wants to stop, but he knows he has to. And when he’s nearly full, he pulls away, drawing a deep righteous breath.

“You’re so fucking good,” Louis says. “You taste… So. Fucking. Good.”

Smiling, Harry runs his thumb over the corner of Louis’ mouth. He wipes a bit of blood away and offers his thumb to Louis who sucks it clean. Then he pulls Harry in for another kiss.

Their tongues meet with one deep, languid stroke after another. And with each one, Harry presses in closer and closer. When Louis gets home, this is all he’ll do for hours on end. He’ll kiss Harry every hour everywhere so long as he’s allowed.

Louis digs his fingers into Harry’s hips, eager for friction and ready to thrust upward in search of it if he has to. He cups Harry’s bum and decides he loves that. “I want you,” he says, quietly.

“I’m already yours,” Harry says.

“I want to do what you do with him,” Louis says. “I want all of you.”

Harry sits back in Louis’s lap. He sets his hands on Louis’ shoulders and holds them apart. “We can’t,” he says, breathlessly. 

Louis lowers his gaze. “You don’t want to?”

“Of course I do,” Harry says. “But I don’t think we should.”

“Because I’m not him?”

“No, Louis,” Harry says with a sigh. “Because I’m not him . Your him.”

Everything slows except Louis’ breathing. He looks into his lap, which turns out to be a mistake because he’s met with the sight of Harry’s bare thighs bracketing his own, of their mutual erections. He’s so hard he thinks it could actually kill him. But he also can’t help but think of Harry in his own time, of how he left things, of how desperate he is to put it all right. And he gets the sense that fucking Harry’s older self might not help.

“Would he be cross if we did?” Louis asks. “Does this make things worse before they get better? ‘Cause I don’t want things getting any worse.”

“All I remember is things getting really good really quickly,” Harry says. “I told you he wants to fix things just as much as you do. I know it seems it’s all fucked but…it’s also impossible to really fuck up. You can’t get rid of me. Or vice versa.”

“Then why?”

“Because the first time you fuck me, it’s the first time for us both with another boy. And that’s what makes it perfect. We figure most of it out together,” Harry says. “I like our story the way it is. I don’t want to change any part of it.”

“But everything happens as it’s supposed to happen.”

“Yes, because you’re not going to fuck me tonight.”

“Then…do you want to fuck me?” Louis asks without really looking at him. “‘Cause I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

Harry licks his lips. “Believe me I’d love to. But you should also save that for him.”

Dramatically, Louis flops backwards onto the bed, his arms splayed at his sides. “You’re driving me fucking insane,” he says, looking at Harry imploringly. “You know how much feeding is tied to sex and whatnot. I know you know that.”

“I know,” Harry says. “It won’t always feel unbearable, though. The next time you feed, you’ll see what I mean.”

“That’s so bloody cryptic,” Louis says. “What am I meant to do with that? Or this ?”

And he flails his hand towards his erection.

Harry covers his mouth with his hand, the laughter slipping through his fingers anyhow. “Your struggle,” he says. “My heart goes out to you.”

Louis throws his forearm over his eyes, waiting for Harry to remove himself from Louis’ lap. He won’t tell him to leave, but as soon as he does, he’ll have a wank and be done with it.

“I said you couldn’t have all of me,” Harry says. “I didn’t say none of me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re going to miss my show,” Harry says, slipping out of Louis’ lap.

Louis drops his arm away from his face and watches as Harry puts his back to the headboard. He sits upright turning to face him, watching him pull a bottle of lube from the pocket of his robe.

“The first time you fuck me, you take your time getting me ready, which I’ll need because you’ve got a big cock,” Harry says, flicking the lube cap open. “But it doesn’t hurt much at all ‘cause you’re so careful about it. Taking your time is important.”

Harry coats his fingers with lube and parts his legs.

“It’s actually better if you do this while I’m on my hands and knees,” Harry goes on. “But the first time, it’s like this. I like it like this. I like when you look at me before pressing your fingers inside.”

And then that’s what he does, groaning softly at the pressure of his two fingers. Louis feels frozen at the foot of the bed, but in reality, he’s moving closer, almost involuntarily. It’s like he’s tethered to Harry and each time Harry thrusts his fingers into himself, each little noise he makes, reels Louis in another inch more.

Louis touches Harry’s knee gingerly, pushing his legs further apart. “You’re perfect,” he says, awestruck.

Harry’s laugh is breathless. “Are you finding this informative, then?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Louis says, weakly. “Sure.”

With another laugh, Harry says, “You’ll want to find his spot early on. It’s trickier when you’re on top, but you can figure it out more quickly with your fingers.”

Harry’s brow wrinkles. His mouth drops open. Louis leans in and smothers Harry’s next groan with a kiss.

“I think I got it,” Louis says. “I can get it.”

“Such a quick learner.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Louis says and then he kisses him again to do it for him. Harry reaches for Louis’ shirt hem and drags his shirt up and over his head. He shoves Louis’ pants down and Louis leans away to wriggle them off entirely.

He feels a bit self-conscious, though not enough to make him second-guess himself. Harry looks at him like he’s a god anyhow and with such adoration that Louis feels emboldened to climb right back atop Harry’s body.

“Get the lube,” Harry tells him.

Louis scrambles for the lube on the bed. It’s not like lube is particularly puzzling, but Louis still hands the bottle to Harry, rather than pour some out himself. What if he pours too much? Or too little?

Harry takes Louis’ wrist and pours hastily, uncaring. He tosses the bottle to the side and says, “Come on.”

Louis tries to remind himself that he’s not a bloody virgin. And yet, he feels like this is the first time he’s ever touched someone. He hesitates. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never hurt me,” Harry says, as he directs Louis’ hand to the space between his legs.

Louis figures the rest out then. It’s true that he won’t hurt Harry. If he knew this would hurt him, he wouldn’t do it. He’s been ignorant about a lot lately. He’s said hurtful things without thinking. But he’s got his wits about him now. He knows what he wants. Better yet, he knows what Harry wants. And he wants to give it to him.

When he presses his fingers deep into Harry and Harry sinks his head into his pillow, that feeling of wanting him or wanting to please him increases tenfold. “Is that good?” he finds himself asking. “Do you feel good?”

“So good, baby.”

Louis just preens. He’s spent the last several months trying to lean into the same edgy unflappable disposition of the vampires he’s surrounded himself with. They probably wouldn’t recognise him now, rosy-cheeked and starry-eyed over the man beneath him, eager for more praise, for more of Harry’s unfettered devotion. It’s the only thing that matters anymore.

It’s impossible to ignore how good the tight pressure around Louis’ fingers would feel around his cock. He finds himself rutting into the mattress in time with the thrust of his fingers. When Harry clenches on his fingers, the tension in the pit of Louis’ stomach coils further in on itself. When Harry moans, Louis does too.

Louis has no idea what he’s doing, but it feels right to lean in and take a tentative lick of Harry’s cock.

Harry’s eyes pop open wide. “Oh my God.”

Louis does it again, this time licking around his fingers. He doesn’t love the taste of the lube, but he loves the way Harry groans and twists his fingers in Louis’ hair.

“You’re going to make me come,” Harry says.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Louis asks, leaning in to lick and suck some more. 

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to handle all this.”

“Can you handle it?” Louis asks.

Harry laughs. “Who are you? Fuck—”

Louis almost doesn’t believe it when Harry comes. Harry doesn’t seem to believe it either. His thighs tremble. His abs clench as a band of cum shoots across them. Without thinking, Louis leans in for a taste, intuitively, which draws another groan out of Harry.

“Come here,” Harry says. “Please.”

Louis crawls up the bed and over Harry’s body, meeting him for an open-mouthed kiss. Harry licks his palm and reaches between them to cup Louis’ cock. He starts to stroke him, keeping their gazes pinned.

“I want you to come now,” Harry says, breathlessly.

“I’m dying to,” Louis says, just as winded, his lungs aching. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“You are fucking me,” Harry says. He tightens his hold on Louis. Snug, but not at all uncomfortable. “Do you feel how tight I am?”

Louis looks at him, mystified beyond measure. Tentatively, he thrusts into Harry’s fist and as he does, Harry smiles, contentedly, euphorically, as if Louis is actually inside him.

“Is it everything you dreamt about?” Harry asks. “Was I worth the wait?”

“So worth the wait,” Louis says. “You feel so good.”

Harry cranes his neck to kiss Louis again. “Go on. Fuck me harder”

Louis begins to move his hips more quickly. Harry’s eyes move all over his face, his mouth slightly ajar like he’s also mystified. It sends a rush through Louis. Boldly, he pushes Harry’s hand away and settles himself between Harry’s legs so he can grind into him. Harry gasps, oversensitive but hard. He slides his hands to Louis’ arse, pressing his fingertips into his skin. He peers down between their bodies.

“That’s it, Louis,” he says. “God—”

He grabs a pillow beside him and covers the lower half of his face with it, trying to stifle a groan. Louis only allows that for about three seconds before he snatches the pillow and tosses it to the floor. He presses Harry’s wrists into his mattress and Harry’s eyes light up.

“Definitely do that with him,” Harry says. “He’ll love that.”

Louis laughs. “Yeah? You love it?”

“Love it,” Harry breathes, his eyes rolling shut. He tries to keep quiet, but he begins to moan rhythmically and progressively loud the closer he gets.

“I want to come inside you,” Louis says.

“Do it,” Harry says. “Come inside me. Fill me up.”

Louis presses his face into Harry’s neck when he comes, suddenly and with a hoarse cry. He comes hard, shivering through it until he’s still. He rolls onto his back, their legs still entangled, chests ballooning. “Fucking hell,” he says.

“I know,” Harry says.

“Is it always like this?” Louis asks.

“Always,” Harry says, turning to face Louis, running his finger through a bit of come on Louis’ chest. He sucks his finger into his mouth. “And I’m not even done with you yet.”

Louis looks at him a bit wide-eyed. He might need a second to go again, but it goes without saying, he’d absolutely be up for that. And he’s about to say as much when the door opens and in comes the older vampire, fully recovered and palpably displeased.

Harry has the good sense to stop caressing Louis’ chest and abs, although he thankfully doesn’t pull away from him altogether. Louis might be offended if he did. It’s Louis who sits upright and drags a pillow atop his crotch, mostly because he’s embarrassed.

“Wow,” Older Louis says to Harry. “You’re a mess.”

Harry bites his bottom lip as he glances down at his own body. “Well, you’ve made a mess of me.”

“Me?” Older Louis says.

“Him?” Louis chimes in.

“You’re the same person,” Harry says tiredly. He looks at Older Louis. “And I know you remember this. It’s coming back to you, isn’t it? How good it felt getting me off for the first time?”

Older Louis narrows his eyes at Harry, but as hard as he tries to pretend otherwise, he’s mollified, maybe even endeared by Harry’s words. “I do remember,” he says. “I also remember watching.” 

“You mean the show I put on for him?” Harry asks.

“No,” Older Louis says. “My show. Though it’s not for him.”

Harry’s brows crease. “And what show is that?”

“Come here.”

Harry hesitates a moment.

Older Louis lifts his brow. “You heard me.”

Harry pushes himself up and onto his knees. He crawls to the edge of the bed until he’s right in front of Older Louis. There, he’s drawn into a kiss. Older Louis holds him with his fist curled in his hair and his other hand at the base of Harry’s throat. All Louis can do is watch, unsure whether he wants the kiss to end or whether he wants to watch. He’s jealous, certainly, but he can’t look away from Older Louis’ expert show of dominance. And it’s a good thing he doesn’t look away or else he’d miss Older Louis breaking the kiss and sinking his fangs wordlessly into Harry’s neck. He doesn’t drink for very long at all. A little over five seconds and he’s done. The bite isn’t for sustenance. It’s an opportunity to mark Harry, to remind everyone in the room who he’s mated to.

“I want you on your hands and knees,” Older Louis says.

A bit bleary-eyed and blissed out, Harry glances at Louis. 

“It’s fine,” Older Louis says. “He’s loving it.”

“Are you?” Harry asks Louis.

Louis glances at his older self. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the truth is, he’s never been more turned on than he is now, watching his older self boss Harry around and drink from him freely. So, he simply nods.

Harry turns and gets on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Older Louis, watching him pull the string of his pyjama bottoms loose and shove them down. Louis’ mouth drops slightly open as the older vampire takes hold of Harry’s hips and gets up behind him.

And Harry only arches his back that much more, fully prepared for Older Louis to thrust into him. He groans and his brows knit together and his fists curl up in the bedding.

“I think I remember you sucking him off while I fuck you,” Older Louis says. “How’s that sound?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. He looks at Louis. “Is that okay?”

Louis nods, almost frantically. Because he’s absolutely hard again, so hard he thinks he’ll bust any second. He doesn’t exactly want the other vampire to watch, but he doesn’t want him to leave either. He never wants this show to end.

It’s hard to focus on anything but Harry’s warm mouth on his cock, but there’s a part of his conscience zeroed in on Older Louis. He’s trying to catalogue the way he holds Harry, the way he digs his fingers into Harry’s plush bum or runs his hand up the centre of his back. On a particularly effective thrust, Harry pulls his mouth off and turns to look at Older Louis again.

“You’re not focused, love,” Older Louis says.

“You’re distracting me,” Harry says, so breathless Louis can barely make sense of it.,

Then Older Louis spanks Harry. Just once, but firmly. And Louis nearly comes untouched all over Harry’s face. “Focus,” Older Louis says.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. He licks his lips and leans into Louis again, sucking him back into his mouth as best as he can. He moans as he sucks him and Louis can tell he loves it. Every part of it. When he speaks, he sounds grateful, blissful, like it’s the best day on earth. “So fucking good.”

Louis feels his gut clench and his nerves light up. Because of how pretty Harry looks. Because one day he’ll be the one making him look this way. Everything lights up and he comes again, harder than before.

“Good job, baby,” Older Louis says. He pulls out, just long enough to push Harry onto his back. And then he’s right back on him, pressing Harry’s knees towards his chest until he’s nearly folded in half, pushing back into him. He snaps his hips against Harry’s thighs, wild plunges of his cock sending Harry into a delirium.

“Oh my God,” Harry groans, his voice breaking slightly. He wraps his arms around Older Louis’ body. “Louis.”

He goes on saying his name, sometimes softly, sometimes with a guttural groan attached.

It’s another of those moments where Louis is acutely aware of all the years shared between the two. He hears his name uttered but knows it’s not truly for him. He knows it’s for Older Louis who touches Harry and fucks him and kisses him exactly the way he likes.

But this time he doesn’t feel left out. He feels grateful to watch them, grateful to witness exactly what he has to look forward to.

+

In the morning, Louis wakes to the sight of Harry beside him and recollections of the night before come trickling back. It makes Louis feel momentarily victorious, but then he remembers the other vampire in the bed. He lifts his head and their eyes lock.

“What?” Older Louis says. “Thought I’d let you have him all to yourself?”

Louis groans, his head returning to his pillow. “I’m not letting you ruin my morning.”

“You ruined mine,” Older Louis says. “And my night, too.”

“I personally loved it better when you were asleep. And I had him all to myself.”

“I’ve decided I don’t have to kill you,” Older Louis says. “I think breaking a few limbs will do just fine.”

“Louis,” Harry says, curtly. “I’m sandwiched between two versions of my favourite person in the whole world. And you’re both ruining it.”

Louis looks at his older self. “Fine,” he says, snuggling up to Harry. He drapes his arm across Harry’s waist. Older Louis’ lip curls and he shoves his wrist off.

Harry emits a loud sigh and sits upright, scrambling towards the edge of the bed. Older Louis catches him by the waist. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

“Promise,” Louis adds.

“Should we try having another threesome, then?” Harry wonders.

“Fuck no,” says Older Louis.

And well, regardless of how great last night was, all Louis can think to say is: “No fucking chance.

+

It’s not as if he has to pack, so there’s not much for Louis to do while he waits for Harry to take him home. He has another swim before lunchtime and strolls around the house, but stays clear of Maxine. He hears her laughter from down the hallway sometime between breakfast and lunch and treads more closely to the living room. There, he happens to see Older Louis running her around in his arms like she’s a helicopter.

These are Louis’ first true glimpses of what their life is like on a daily basis — without the threat of murderous hybrids and imminent death. They’re happy, playful and making the most of the time they all have together. This is the kind of home he could get used to, the kind of home he’ll wait as long as it takes to have.

A few hours later, when Max is down for her nap, Harry finds Louis in the spare room. “I think it’s time,” he says. You’d think he was marching Louis to the gallows with the way Louis follows him, dragging his feet with each step. Louis wants to get home, he does. But he doesn’t want to leave Harry — any version of Harry — behind. He wishes he could be with them all somehow simultaneously. He also still doesn’t know where he’ll start with the Harry he left in the past.

In the foyer, Older Louis pats Louis on his shoulders. “Thanks again,” he says, awkwardly. “I’m not one to get all emotional, but…you saved my family. Our family, I guess. So, thanks.”

“I told you, I did it for me,” Louis says.

“Whatever, twat,” Older Louis says and pats him again on the shoulder.

Louis shoves his hands into his pockets, picking at the fraying liner. “Any advice on what to do when I get back?”

“Yeah,” Older Louis says. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Great. Thanks,” Louis says while Harry laughs.

“Also, make sure you’ve got condoms and lube on hand,” says Older Louis. “I’d do that straight away if I were you.”

Louis glances at Harry but he purposefully pretends he’s not listening all of a sudden.

“You’ll be fine,” Older Louis says. “Remember he thinks you hung the moon.”

“I do,” Harry chimes in. He leans in and gives Older Louis a kiss on the mouth. Then he plucks his car keys off the foyer table and looks at Younger Louis. “Ready to go?”

“Guess so,” Louis says.

They head back to the past the same way they arrived to the future. Harry drives them to Elmsmere, drumming his fingers anxiously on the wheel most of the way there. Once, at a stoplight, he reaches over, takes Louis’ hand and presses a quick kiss to Louis’ knuckles. A few miles later as they cross into Elmsmere, Louis does the same to him.

Soon, Harry pulls up to the kerb down the street from Pembley and parks. They walk the short distance to Pembley and into the small clearing of trees behind the house where they’ll be mostly out of sight and hidden in the cover of night. “Remember,” Harry says, taking his hands. “Eyes closed until I say.”

Louis nods. When the winds stop, Louis doesn’t open his eyes straight away. And even after he does, he keeps his gaze on the toes of their shoes. Slowly, he lifts his head to find Harry looking at him already.

“Well, this has been fun,” Louis says.

“Really, Louis?”

“We had some fun, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Harry says, forcing a smile. Just as quickly, his face crumbles. He releases Louis’ hands and covers his face. “Sorry.”

“What are you crying about? You’ve got a whole husband waiting for you at home.”

Harry laughs tearfully. “You’re right. I should hurry back to him,” he says. “And Max.”

At the mention of her, Louis’ heart clenches. “Give her an extra kiss for me at bedtime.”

Harry tries again to smile, but can hardly manage it. He dries his eyes with the hem of his t-shirt and blows a raspberry. “I will,” he says. “It’s better that you forget her. It makes it more magical when you first see her face.”

Louis nods solemnly. “Yeah.”

Harry reaches out to cup Louis’ face in his warm hands. “The last few days I felt like I was twenty again,” he says. “I’m a little jealous of your Harry. Of all the fun he’s going to have. He’s in for a treat.”

Louis feels his eyes prickle and exhales a big puff of air. “Maybe I’ll go see him tonight.”

“‘Cause you’ll miss me that badly?”

“Yeah.” Louis knows he’s being teased, but it’s the truth. “I’ll miss you that badly.”

“I love you, Louis,” Harry says. “Just remember that.”

“I love you too.”

Harry leans in and presses his mouth to Louis’. Louis feels the telltale tingle of magic flowing from Harry’s fingertips pressed to Louis’ skin. All he can think about is his soft touch and his soft mouth. He reaches out to grasp his waist, to hold onto him so he can’t leave just yet. But his hands meet air and when he opens his eyes, Harry is gone.

Louis looks around, his heart sinking. He never felt the time travel winds, but he suspects that Harry teleported himself elsewhere for the jump back to the future. Better to rip the bandage off quickly.

His head feels a bit fuzzy like he’s waking up from a dream. He remembers the magic rushing into his body from Harry’s hands, but when he tries to think of the specifics of Harry’s spell, he can’t. When he tries to think of Future Harry at all, he can only recall the way it felt to kiss him or hold him. He can’t remember where or when they touched one another, only that they did.

As hard as he tries, he can’t make sense of why Future Harry was here or why he travelled with him at all, but intangible strings of conversation linger in his head…

He waits there on the pavement for a while longer, hoping for another memory to come to him, however small. When none do, he tucks his hands into his pockets and heads in the direction of the tube, back to campus and back to his Harry.

+

Louis rings Clair on the walk back to campus. He feels a bit shit about cheating on her. They weren’t together long, but she was an alright girl and she drove all the way to Pembley thinking he needed rescuing.

“Are you ready to pick up where we left off?” Clair answers the phone by asking.

Louis mulls that over. “Were we on a break or something?”

“Yes, Louis. I told you not to ring me until you’d sorted yourself out.”

“Thank, fuck,” Louis breathes. He knows he’s probably not making sense and he can picture her confusion quite vividly, so he hurries on. “I did sort myself out. But I’m still obsessed with the witch.”

Clair is quiet for a moment. “If you’re gay, that’s still no reason to date a witch. My friend, Aaron, is gay. If you want, I can set you two up.”

“No. Thanks, but no,” Louis says. “Listen. Thanks for everything. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. When he cuts your heart out or something and stores it in a jar, I’ll tell everyone I warned you.”

“Fair enough,” Louis says. And then she hangs up on him.

+

When Harry spots Louis parked on a bench across from Connaught Hall, his steps slow. He only considers him for a second before his pace resumes, even quicker now. Louis hurries to his feet as Harry passes him. He's wearing the watch Louis gave him still, but that's actually no surprise. Harry promised to keep it safe and he never goes back on his word.

Future Harry promised that things would work out, so Louis has to trust that too.

“You’ll never guess where I’ve been,” Louis says quickly.

“I don’t actually care,” Harry says. “Why are you sitting in the dark outside like a creep?”

“I live here,” Louis says. “I found out from Gemma we stay in the same hall.”

“You might’ve known that if you didn’t spend most of the term avoiding me.”

Before, Louis might’ve denied that, but he’s trying to be honest, no matter how hard it is. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“I know I’m right,” Harry says, taking the first of the stairs to the front door of the hall.

“Guess where I’ve been,” Louis tries again.

“I still don’t care.”

Louis deserves that, but internally, he winces. “The future,” he tells him anyway.

Harry stops and looks at him. “Are you drunk?”

Louis wishes. This might be a little easier if he was. “A few days ago, a version of you from the future came here to take me there.”

“And why would I do that?” Harry asks, with no ounce of condescension spared.

“I can’t tell you. Mostly ‘cause I don’t remember much. He just needed my help, I think.”

Harry studies him carefully, more than likely trying to decide whether or not Louis is being deceitful. His expression changes when he confirms Louis isn’t. Just then, another student — a human one — exits the hall. Harry and Louis step out of the way for them. “It seems really weird that I’d do that considering I ruined our whole friendship a few days ago, doesn’t it?”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Louis says.

“Those were your words, not mine. When all I tried to do was be honest with you and you threw it in my face. You’ve made me feel like I’m crazy. Like I’ve imagined everything. But I’m not crazy, Louis. And I’m not in denial. And I don’t sleep around with everyone. And since you think all that shit about me, clearly you don’t know me at all. And it’s better if we just…leave each other alone.”

When he’s finished, Harry exhales a huff of breath and turns away. “I told you I’m done.”

Louis appears quickly in front of him, causing him to stop short.

Harry's gaze darts around the street for anyone who might have seen them. “Are you insane?” he hisses

“I’m feeling that way right now, yeah. I need to fix this, Harry. I want to fix this. We can't be done with one another. It’s impossible. We’re too important. You’re too important to me.”

"I don’t feel important to you at all.”

“‘Cause I haven’t proven it to you but I will.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Harry asks tiredly.

Without thinking, Louis takes the step between them and grasps Harry by his upper arms. He kisses him, firmly, the way he’s wanted since he laid eyes on him.

Harry breaks away from Louis, pushing his forearm into Louis’ chest. “What are you doing ?” 

“Sorry,” Louis says.

“How does that prove anything aside from the fact that you like kissing me?” Harry asks. “I knew that already, whether you admitted it or not. That doesn’t prove you care about me. That I’m important to you. That you won’t decide you’re finished with me tomorrow.”

This isn't how Louis hoped things would go at all, but it’s what he expected: his hasty words or the utter loss of them, the desperation, the fumbling.

“You’re right. I thought— I think my brain’s stuck in the wrong time,” Louis says.

“What?”

“Never mind,” Louis says. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking this all up already.”

Harry seems preoccupied with a sudden concern of his own. Another student leaves the halls and Harry waits until they’re past to speak, his voice a near whisper. “What are we…in the future?”

Louis doesn’t answer right away, though that seems to be an answer in and of itself. The truth is obvious.

“What the fuck,” Harry breathes. He turns away and takes the steps back to the pavement. Louis follows him as he marches away, his hands pushed into his hair. Just before he reaches the end of the street, he turns back. “How far into the future? Like…are we old? Are we married ?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says. And truly he doesn’t. He knows they were deeply committed to each other. He’s not sure if that means marriage or not, although he’d like that. He knows they shared a home, although he can’t remember anything at all about that home now. “We’re just together.”

“You don’t even want that.”

“I do,” Louis says. “I was shocked at first too. But it makes sense. We make sense.”

“Just ‘cause you saw whatever it is you saw doesn’t mean it makes sense,” Harry says, keeping his voice low. “You still have a choice. And the truth is, if you hadn’t gone to the future, you wouldn’t choose me, would you? A few days ago, you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me. It’s not me you want, it’s the version of me you met in the future.”

“I’m trying to tell you it’s you . It’s always been you,” Louis says. “I wouldn’t be able to feel what I felt for him if there was no you. I couldn’t love him if I wasn’t already in love with you.”

Harry doesn’t say a thing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Louis either. Not even as Louis takes another step closer to him.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Louis says. “I’m so fucking sorry. I could try to explain, but I’d just be making excuses for how much of a coward I’ve been. You’re right that I was scared. But I’m not anymore. No one matters to me more than you. No one takes up as much room in my heart as you. No one even comes close. I love you. I always have. The only thing that’s different now is I can picture a future with you. And I want that. I want you. I swear to you, Harry. I want this.”

By now, Harry’s eyes are swimming. He bites hard into his bottom lip for a moment, his nostrils flaring. “Because of what you saw in the future?”

“Because we always get each other’s jokes. And you always let me have the corners when we get a square pizza. Although I told you I don't need food anymore, so you can have all the corners from now on,” Louis says. "Promise."

Harry huffs a tearful laugh. “Thanks.”

“Also, you’re gorgeous. And ever since…I fed, I think about you nonstop. About feeding mostly. But also about touching you, kissing you, just being near you,” Louis says, feeling his whole face flushing. “You’re the first person I ever loved or felt I needed. You’re the only person who knows me — all the good and bad parts of me — and cares. And you’re my best mate. And none of that’s got a thing to do with the future.”

Harry covers his face with both palms. “Louis,” he says weakly.

“It’s alright,” Louis says. “If this isn’t what you want right now, if you need more time or whatever, I’ll wait.”

Harry drops his hands, his eyes left damp. “Of course this is what I want right now,” he says shrugging. “But also, I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”

“I know,” Louis says, taking his hands. “It sounds like your heart might stop.”

Harry lifts their joined hands to cover his heart. “Stop listening to it.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Louis says. “I like how it beats a little faster when I look at you.”

“That’s embarrassing,” Harry says.

“Not to me,” Louis says. “It’s alright if you’re scared. I can be brave enough for us both. And I’ll prove it to you, I promise.”

Harry gazes at him. “What happened to you in the future?” he asks. “You’re so different. You’re, like…an adult .”

“You’re hurting my feelings, love. I told you I just have a lot more clarity about us. I understand you better than I ever did.”

Harry squints at him. “Louis,” he says, measured. “Did you fuck him?”

Louis blinks. “What?”

“Older Me. Did you fuck him or something?”

Fucking hell. “I don’t remember all the specifics,” Louis says. “But we didn’t go all the way.”

Harry lifts his brows, waiting for further details.

“I’m saving the really important bits for you.”

“I think I need to work on my time travel skills. So I can jet off and do the unimportant bits with an Older You.”

“Harry,” Louis says. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Of course I’m jealous.”

“He said you wouldn’t be. Older You.”

“How generous of him,” Harry says. “I want all the details. Everything you can remember.”

“Fine,” Louis says. “How about a kiss first, though?”

Harry leans in without a second thought and presses their mouths together quickly. There’s an obvious flush along his neck and cheekbones that Louis adores.

“We can do better than that,” Louis says, sliding his arms around Harry’s middle.

Harry’s eyes light up. A laugh slips past his lips. He lifts his hands to cup Louis’ face, his focus and intensity sharpening, and leans in again. This time, he kisses him slowly, pausing for a moment to breathe him in, his lips parting, the kiss deepening.

Afterwards Louis just holds him. 

Harry rests his forehead against Louis’, his eyes slipping shut. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I know,” Louis says. He takes his hand, dropping a quick kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s go back to mine.”

+

They shuffle quietly into Louis’ room and push their shoes off at the door. Harry pulls his gloves and scarf off, discarding them on Louis’ desk while Louis flips the switch for his electric kettle.

“I can’t believe this is my first time here,” Harry says, plopping down on Louis’ bed.

Louis gets two clean cups from his cupboard. “I haven’t seen your dorm either,” he says as he plunks a tea bag into each cup. “We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for. Mostly me, though. I’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

“I think you were right to be distant and confused. I also think I could’ve done more to show I was on your side,” Harry says,

“I never actually doubted you were.”

Harry shrugs. “Even so. I got into a row with my mum the day after the party. I know it hasn’t been that long, but I haven’t talked to her since. I told her I wouldn’t until they apologised to you. And I know that doesn’t mean much, but I think they should admit what they did, at the very least.”

Louis smiles. “God, I love you.”

“I’m trying to be serious here,” Harry says, although now he’s smiling too. He covers his face with his hands.

“Thank you,” Louis says. “But honestly, I’m alright now. I have you. And I’ll be alright in the future too.”

He wishes he could remember details about their life in the future, so that he could tell Harry how amazing it is. But all he knows for sure is that it’s amazing.

“Speaking of which,” Harry says. “If you do feel like making up to me, why don’t you start…by telling me what you did with him?”

Louis massages his forehead and looks at him imploringly. “You don’t genuinely want to know.”

“I absolutely do.”

With a sigh, Louis retrieves their cups of freshly brewed tea and joins Harry on his mattress. For a second, they sip quietly. “This is nice, isn’t it?” Louis asks, setting his cup down. “First moment of peace we’ve really had in ages.”

“I still want to know,” Harry says.

Louis flops dramatically onto his back. “To be honest, I don’t remember everything.”

“What do you remember?”

Louis looks up at the ceiling as he thinks. If anything is clear, it’s the kissing, the touching, the feeling of Harry’s skin against his own. He chews his bottom lip, searching for the right words. Then, he realises that mincing words isn’t the best way to start a relationship.

“He gave me a handjob…and a blowjob,” Louis says. “And I…sort of…fingered him.”

When he looks at Harry, his mouth is ajar.

“I also watched them fuck,” Louis adds quickly. “Older Harry thought of it as a threesome…which I guess it was.”

“Those are unimportant bits?” Harry asks, setting his tea down beside Louis’.

“I didn’t fuck him,” Louis clarifies.

“You wanted to, though.”

Louis licks his lips. “I mean, obviously, yeah.”

Harry stares at him. “Meaning…you want to with me? This version of me?”

Louis looks at him like he’s daft, but he remembers that it wasn’t long ago that he directed similar questions at Older Harry. He gets it now, how the attraction doesn’t differ from present to future. He wants every version of Harry. “Of course,” he says, sitting upright. He faces him fully, though he feels a bit shy all of a sudden. “But I’m alright with us taking our time.”

“Did you want to take your time with him?”

Louis sighs heavily. “That’s different. He knew what he was doing.”

“I know what I’m doing too.”

“So, you’ve done it with a bloke before?”

“No, but it can’t be that much different from how it is with a girl,” Harry says.

“It’s definitely different,” Louis says. Seeing Harry’s eyes narrow, he adds, “Not that I’m an expert or anything.”

“Right,” Harry says, looking at his hands in his lap.

Louis takes Harry’s hand and holds it tightly between his own. “Harry,” he says. “To be fair, if you met an older version of me tomorrow and he wanted a go with you, which he would, I don’t think you’d say no.”

“I definitely wouldn’t say no,” Harry says, biting into his cheek to keep from laughing. “He was really hot, I bet. Older you.”

“ I’m really hot,” Louis says. He knows he’s trying to encourage Harry to put jealousy aside, but it’s easier said than done.

“Obviously,” Harry says. “But… was he like a silver fox?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “He wasn’t that old. He had a bit of gray I guess. I don’t know.”

“Oh my God,” Harry groans. 

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re not upset, then? About me and older you?”

“Not upset, no… I just don’t like the thought of someone being closer to you than I am. Including an older version of myself.”

“I get it,” Louis says.

“We can fix that, though,” Harry says, looking at their joined hands. He hesitates a second before turning to face Louis fully and shuffling closer. Then Harry leans in and kisses Louis, and does so with a newfound surge of boldness. As if it’s finally set in that Louis is his and will be his in the future. If there’s any doubt left, the way Louis curls his arms around Harry and kisses him back likely does away with it.

Harry draws back to remove his jumper. “I don’t want you to take your time with me,” he says, his gaze a little sheepish, even though he’s still wearing a t-shirt. More than anything, though, he’s resolute. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“About what exactly?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Harry says. To punctuate his insistence, he reaches for his t-shirt and peels it up over his head.

“Stop undressing yourself,” Louis says. “That’s part of the fun.”

“Fine,” Harry says, laughing. “If you want to wait, that’s also okay. I want us to both be ready, but I am, just so you know.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’ve been waiting,” he says, looking down the length of Harry’s bare chest, his arms, his thighs. “Are you cold?”

Harry peeks at his nipples. “A bit, it looks like,” he says and Louis snorts. “Maybe we can get under the covers?”

“Yeah,” Louis says and Harry shuffles further onto the bed, lifting the covers for them to both slip underneath. “I’m leaving the light on. I want to see you.”

“Isn’t your vision supposed to be pretty good in the dark?”

“I’m not nocturnal,” Louis says. “You’re thinking of cold-blooded vampires.”

“Right,” Harry says, trailing off. “Kiss me.”

With a smile, Louis kisses him. He brushes his thumb across Harry’s bottom lip, marvelling at how soft it is. Their eyes meet briefly and then Louis leans in again, pressing his tongue into Harry’s mouth when he gets a chance. He kisses him until Harry is squirming against him, trying to get closer in his own subtle way. He tugs on Louis’ shirt until Louis is half on top of him and then Harry pulls the shirt up and off.

“I want it all off,” Harry says, pushing at Louis’ waistband. “Take it off.”

“Not very polite in bed, are you?”

“ Please ,” Harry says.

Laughing, Louis pulls away to get his jeans and pants off. He feels himself blushing from the way Harry looks at him, but he busies himself with pulling Harry’s trousers and pants off too. It’s only fair that he’s not the only one entirely naked. For a second, they just look at one another. It’s not as though they haven’t seen each other naked before. But it’s absolutely different seeing that they’re both hard for one another.

“You don’t seem nervous,” Harry says.

“I’m definitely nervous,” Louis says. “Your heart’s still going crazy, though, so I’m trying to keep calm for us both.”

“You’re just really fit,” Harry says. “I don’t know if you realise it, what you do to people, especially lately.”

Louis’ face wrinkles. “I only care about you.”

“Maybe I just tried not to pay attention before,” Harry says. He looks up and down Louis’ torso again. “You’re so fucking fit.”

“Alright, enough,” Louis says and kisses him because he can’t handle another compliment. Now that they’re naked, the next time Louis presses in close, their cocks brush. Harry shivers and hooks his thighs over Louis’ body, urging him closer. And Louis indulges him for a bit, grinding every now and then as he kisses Harry. But when he’s in danger of coming or making Harry come, he pulls away, trying to catch his breath, trying to buy a second to get the lube from his drawer.

It felt presumptuous buying the lube at all before he’d fixed things with Harry, but funnily enough, he could remember Older Louis telling him to. He also trusted that he and Harry would fix things and figured he’d best be prepared for when they did.

“Just to be sure,” Louis says, breathlessly. “You want me to fuck you and not the other way around?”

Harry thinks about it. “Would you do that?”

“Seems fair, doesn’t it?”

“Another time, then,” Harry says. “I want to feel what he felt.”

“I didn’t fuck him,” Louis reminds him.

“Yeah, but you came pretty close.”

“So, this is all about your older self.”

“Not all about him,” Harry says. “Come on.”

Louis uncaps the lube and scoots down between Harry’s legs. “I’m going to take my time, alright? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

The nerves have kicked in now in full. Louis hardly knows what he’s doing. He only knows he doesn’t want to disappoint Harry again. 

But then he thinks about Harry in the past and Harry in the future. He thinks about his best friend and his future husband. There’s nothing more sure or secure than the two of them together, and no question he’ll get this right. There are years upon years to prove as much.

So he presses his fingers into Harry the way Older Harry showed him. Then he does what he would’ve done had he never gone to the future at all. He learns and he listens. He focuses on what Harry likes, what makes him moan or shiver. He asks him if he feels good and the answer is always yes. He asks him if he’s ready.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Louis realises he’s not nervous at all anymore. Neither is Harry, who moans and groans as loud as he wants and shoves his fingers into Louis’ hair and cracks a random joke about queefing. It’s like no time has passed between them. They’re exactly who they’ve always been, but so turned on they can’t think, and desperate to be as close as possible as soon as possible. 

“I want to get on top,” Harry announces, which surprises Louis, but now he wants that too. 

Louis rolls them on over and pats around on the bed for the condom he snagged earlier. He gets it on quickly while Harry waits, wetting his lips like he’s caught sight of something delicious. Then Harry perches himself in Louis’ lap, rocking on his cock as if to practice.

“I might come if you keep doing that,” Louis says.

“I want you to come,” Harry says. “I’m going to make you come. So hard.”

Louis exhales a laugh. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Harry reaches out and pinches Louis’ nipple, so Louis pinches both of his. “Arsehole,” Harry says. He reaches for Louis’ cock. “Just wait and see. And then afterwards—” His brows wrinkle as Louis breaches his rim. “You’re going to feed.”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, his eyes screwing shut, fingers digging into Harry’s thighs.

“Or maybe you’ll feed and come at the same time,” Harry says, so breathless Louis nearly doesn’t catch it. “I’ve been reading about vampires. About how you mate. Maybe you’ll do that with me.”

“Harry,” Louis nearly whimpers. “Please.”

Then Louis’ cock is fully tucked away inside Harry and they both sigh, deeply and so relieved. Harry tries thrusting his hips slowly forward and back. “How’s that?”

Louis nods. “So good,” he says. “You?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Louis says.

It’s not the wild fucking Louis remembers from the future, though that was tender in its own way too. They hold each other the same way. They say each other’s names just as desperately. And when Louis is near to coming, he draws Harry’s hair away from his neck, pressing kisses along his damp skin.  “Do it,” Harry tells him, so Louis bites deeply into Harry’s throat and within seconds, they come together, all at once.

+

“Do I keep my hair long in the future?” Harry asks. “I think I might cut it.”

“You could cut it for a bit,” Louis says. “I think that’d look nice.”

“So, he wears it short then?”

“I genuinely can’t remember,” Louis admits. “I guess ‘cause of the spell Older You put on me.”

With each minute that passes, another memory fades, as if Future Harry’s magic was a timed-release pill. By tomorrow, he wonders if he’ll have any solid memories of the future at all.

Harry lifts his head off Louis’ chest and looks at him sadly. “That’s a bit shit.”

“I think it’s for the best,” Louis says. He wraps his arms more snugly around Harry’s shoulders and plops a kiss on his forehead. “I just want to focus on us right now. ”

Harry smiles, nestling into Louis’ chest again. “Me too.”

“The future isn’t going anywhere.”

And Louis doesn’t mean to sound so haughty when he says so, but it’s the truth. Yes, they’ll have to put in plenty of work to achieve the life they want, but they’re up for it. And yes, they’ll fuck up every now and then, but they’re experts at sorting out the worst of messes, so long as they do it together.

And no, the future isn’t promised to everyone. But it is to them.