Chapter Text
The entire crate of potions is lying haphazardly on the floor, glass bottles in big shards and purple liquid covering the floor in a puddle. It’s a complete mess and Harry is feeling dizzy. He glares at Rusty, Nick’s cat who weaved his way around Harry’s legs, causing him to stumble and drop the crate of love potions. He sighs to himself. It’s going to be a long day.
“What was that?” Nick’s voice comes from the back room.
Harry rolls his eyes but he can feel the effects of the spells seeping into his system. He must clean up the mess either way. He flicks his wrist and the mop comes floating from the storage room in the shop, a dustpan right alongside it. He can hear Nick saying something but he can’t really make it out. Whilst he thinks of a way to get rid of the liquid, he takes out a stoppered cut glass bottle out of the cabinet under the reception desk. He kneels beside the puddle of liquid and coaxes the liquid to flow into the bottle with ceaseless waves of his fingers.
His nose tingles and he’s starting to get a headache from the strong amount of spells that escapes the liquid. The risk would’ve been less if it was a single potion but this is a vast amount carrying the same love spell taking effect on a large scale. Harry begins to feel a tingle start from the bottom of his spine and slither to his neck. He giggles, biting his lower lip in amusement.
Rusty is seated on his hunches, a good distance from Harry and watches with curious eyes. “Rusty, you silly boy.” Harry giggles. His hand is trembling and he doesn’t think he can clutch onto the bottle for much longer. As soon as the last of the liquid filters into the bottle, Harry shuts it with the stopper and pushes it against the desk. He falls onto his bum and chuckles. “Come here boy.” He waves his hand to beckon the long haired calico cat. Harry shuffles on his knees and reaches for the cat. Rusty meows loudly, trying to get away but with a laugh Harry clutches Rusty to his chest. He nuzzles his nose into Rusty’s fur and grins. “Look at what you’ve done,” He mumbles to Rusty, “You made me spill all these love spells I worked really hard on.”
“Harry.” Nick’s voice floats over, sounding very concerned. Harry looks up immediately, spotting Nick hovering over him. He lets go of Rusty who leaps away, and tries to pull himself up, which doesn’t really end well and he collapses onto the floor with a wistful sigh. Nick bends to peer at Harry’s face and furrows his eyebrows. “You alright, bro?” He looks to the side and spots the mop and empty dustpan still hovering in the air. The bottle shards are still scattered on the floor so Nick makes sure to put Rusty in the safe zone. “What the hell did you do?”
Harry giggles, flailing an arm at Nick. With a sigh, Nick grabs a hold of it and pulls Harry to his feet. It takes him by surprise when Harry snuggles into his side, smiling as if Christmas had come early. It’s a bit disturbing and Nick tries to push him away. “Grimmy.” Harry grins and brings a hand to bop him on the nose. “I like your blonde hair.”
Nick snorts. “It’s just a streak of blonde. Tell me you didn’t inhale the fumes. ”
“Rusty,” Harry replies, pointing an accusatory finger at the cat who’s licking at his paw. Rusty pauses to glance at them before resuming.
“What did he do?” Nick leads Harry behind the counter and gets him to sit down. “And why is there a mop floating?”
“Hmm?” Harry looks up at him.
Nick sighs and places his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to sweep with a broom, not a mop.”
“Oh.” Harry’s lips form the word but he instantly forgets their immediate question to answer the previous. “Rusty.” He holds onto Nick’s wrist, inspecting the thread bands. “Broke my potions.”
“Fuck!” Nick swears. “I’m aware. So you did inhale it. No wonder you’re loopy.” Harry pouts when Nick snatches his hand away and flicks his own wrist, sending the mop away to swap with the broom. He makes a simple hand gesture for the broom to begin sweeping the shattered glass into the awaiting dustpan. Harry crosses his hands on the desk and rests his chin on them as Nick crouches in front of the desk, disappearing from view. He instantly comes back up with the bottle of purple potion. “Do you know what you mother would say if she heard of this?”
“I have a license,” Harry grumbles. “You have really beautiful eyes...like brown clay.”
“That’s insulting.” Nick makes a face. He uncaps the bottle and takes a whiff of it, instantly scrunching his nose in disgust. “This is strong. You need to lay back or sleep or something so this wears off. Is there a counter spell?”
Harry nods with heavy eyes.
“And you didn’t think to take it immediately?” Nick gapes. He shakes his head at Harry. “Where is it?”
“This is your shop. You should know,” Harry replies, “But it’s a lovely shop, Grimmy.” It’s quite amusing.
“Harry,” He says sternly. Harry pouts but points a finger towards Nick’s left where a shelf of teardrop shaped, blue bottles are neatly stacked. “Finally.” He brings over a bottle and uncaps it. Nick summons a glass of water and puts three drops in it as instructed on the label. The water swirls in a splash of colour before returning to its normal state. He sets the glass beside Harry’s head with a thump. “There.”
Harry immediately downs the drink, and winces in pain when he’s done. “Fuck! That’s strong.”
Nick is watching him, a cautious hand holding onto the bottle of purple potion. “Yeah. You should be glad I’m not the one who ended inhaling potion fume or I’d be madly in love with your quirky arse.”
Harry laughs, a bubbly sound bursting forth out of his lips. “Shut up. I’m a man of charm.”
“It’s the curls.” Nick grins. “Where do we put this?” He gestures to the bottle.
“I’ll get rid of it. Can’t drain it into waters or anything or people will start falling in love.” Nick snorts. Harry grins and wryly stares at the bottle. “I won’t be able to make new supplies until the weekend.”
“You still have a crate in the back.” Nick points out, tapping his fingers against the glass counter, flashing his nails painted in black. “They’ll last till the weekend.”
“Yeah. I’ll go get them.” He stands up, immediately flinching as a jolt of pain flashes through his head. He lets out a weak cry and Nick quickly helps him to sit back down.
“Slow there, buddy. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”
“I forgot how strong these can be,” Harry grumbles, clutching his head in his hands.
Nick sighs and pats Harry on the shoulder. “I’ll bring it for you.” He watches Nick head to the storage room, his shirt only half tucked into his skinny jeans and quiff bobbing from the amount of product he has lathered on.
Pointing a finger at Rusty, Harry sternly says, “You.” Before his expression falls into one of fond and he tries to beckon the cat. “I’ll give you a nice tummy rub. You like them Rusty, don’t be mean.” Rusty simply watches him as if he’s putting on a play. Harry thinks Rusty might raise an eyebrow if he were human. “I’m not mad at you.” He sighs when Rusty doesn’t move. “You’re so stubborn, just like Nick.”
“We both have high standards.” Nick is back shortly, placing the wooden crate carefully beside the intricate blossomed flower shelf display. Harry had come across it at a yard sale. He and Nick had bargained for a reasonable price and paid half each. Now it’s polished and in such a beautiful Fuchsia pink and Arctic blue flowers that instantly catches customers’ attention. “Do you want me to help you walk? ‘Cause I’m not setting this up for you.”
“I wouldn’t let you anyway.” Harry stands up really slowly, gripping onto the counter hard enough to make his hands turn white. “I’m very methodical. You’re messy.”
“None of that Styles.”
There’s a ring from the electronic bell installed above the door when a customer enters, a tall, old woman with a smile on her face. Her brown hair is tied up in a bun, a single streak of grey hair right at the top, and large earrings dangle from her ears. Her clothes are very out of place for a woman her age, a pair of tight fitting denims and a printed blouse that clearly tells she’s trying to fit in. Harry straightens his posture to address the lady. “How may I help you ma’am?”
“Oh.” She grins wider. “I am looking for a gift for my daughter.”
“Ah yes. There’s a shelf to the left in the far corner.” Nick cuts in and points a finger in the mentioned direction, “You might find what you’re looking for. Let me show you.”
Harry slowly walks around the counter and sits crossed-legged near the flower display. Pulling the crate of potions towards him, he starts to carefully unpack them from their sheath. The moroccan potion bottles are tear shaped, ironically and comes in shades of the colour spectrum, but Harry only ever buys purples and blues to go with his theme. The vendor he regularly buys from is far too nice and sells them for cheap anyway. He neatly arranges the purple bottles that contain love spells on each large flower of the stand and then cradles the blue bottles carefully to place on a shelf behind the reception. It’s very rare that anyone comes asking for a counter-spell but there are the hurried few who come rushing in, panic flashing across their faces like a quiet siren.
Rusty slinks his way over, opting to lay with his paws tucked under him and relaxes with his head erect as he watches Harry. It’s not even several minutes later when Harry turns around to find him on the counter, batting with his at a bottle. “Hey!” Harry startles Rusty, placing his hands on his hips in an intimidating manner. “What do you think you’re doing?” He snatches the bottle quickly, because, knowing Rusty it would’ve ended up shattered otherwise. Harry makes sure all the cabinet and cupboard doors are safely shut so Rusty won’t be able to get to any of them before packing his book bag.
He snaps his head up when the bell rings loudly in the shop. The customer dressed in a tux and hair ruffled after a day’s work, sunglasses perched on his thick nose, makes his way over to the counter, eyes darting all around the shops as he takes it in. Harry can’t help giving the man a once over. “I need a gift for my wife. Any helpful ideas kid?” The man smiles lightly.
“Necklaces are very common,” Harry suggests, widely gesturing with a hand, over the counter where boxes of jewellery are neatly placed in the display case. “Perfumes are too. Anything with personal meaning will suffice.” The man has a contemplative look on his face. “Perhaps you’d like to look around?”
“And what might those be?” The man questions with a finger pointed towards the large flower display.
“Potions sir,” Harry replies, “I don’t think your wife would want that.”
“I do,” A small voice says and Harry nearly breaks his neck trying to peer around the burly body of the man.
A short, blonde haired girl with dino braids and blood red lipstick stands near the display of keychains with a bag slung across her body. Harry nods at her before going back to addressing the man. “Check around sir, call me if you need anything.”
The man nods and the girl hurries over to the counter, her voice in a whisper. “I need one of those love potions.” Harry has seen her before, quite often lingering in the shop. He had started to get suspicious for a while but now it seems to click together.
“Is that why you were hanging around here for days?”
The girl blushes but nods. “I need it soon, actually.”
“Got an eye on someone?” Harry smiles, questioning. The girl follows him to the display and he picks a bottle out. She doesn’t reply so he shows the instructions printed on the label at the back of the bottle and carefully packs it into a box, tying it off with a ribbon. “There.”
The girl takes the box gently in her hands, a private smile on her face as she gazes at it. Then she looks at Harry with gratitude that he actually feels it. “Thank you.”
He fists his fingers and holds up a thumb. “You’re welcome. Good luck with that and be careful.”
“I will. Thank you again.” He watches her leave and immediately spots Nick making his way over to the man inspecting photo frames on a shelf. Harry watches them, the animated way Nick speaks with his hands gesturing in the air that he nearly knocks over an ornament. The man lowers his sunglasses to quirk his brow at Nick and Harry muffles a laugh behind his hand. He wants to say something funny to Nick but the man is probably going to hear it and he’s married so that’s...no...not a good time.
He finishes packing his bag, hefts it onto his shoulder and scoops a struggling Rusty into his arms. “Are you leaving?” Nick hurries towards him and holds out his hands for Rusty. Harry nods, pressing a kiss onto Rusty’s nose. The cat purrs and playfully paws at his arm.
“I think I need to take a few pills and make sure nothing terrible happens to me.”
“Well, I hope you feel better.”
As soon as Harry steps foot outside the shop, the warm sun strokes his exposed skin and he inhales deeply. It’s a warm, sunny day. He can just tell by the feel in the air. Right next to Nick’s gift shop is Marge’s Bakery & Cafe. Harry pushes open the glass door on which a large piece of a piece of cake next to a cup of steaming coffee has been pasted. The warm smell of bread, sweets and caffeine wafts over and Harry smiles impulsively. It’s his favourite smell other than candle scents, which are not really genuine, organic smells anyway.
The cafe is scattered with people from young students to elderly people and others in between. A girl with purple hair, Perrie, runs the register, hands moving so fast as she takes cash and hands out items to the line of people. He has come here so often that he knows nearly everyone who works at the place. Harry loves Marge’s place, especially on weekdays just past ten in the morning when there aren’t a lot of people. But the person he comes to see isn’t usually around at that hour. Harry stands in line, listening to the sounds in the shop, the chatter, the ringing of a phone, the loud clicks of the register, the pinging of the bell above the door, it's all so familiar.
There’s a bang of a door and a curse as someone comes through the back, a large tray in his hand. It’s full of warm cheese scones, Harry’s favourite. He’s wearing a white shirt, the customary logo on the breast pocket, and a black apron. Harry watches him, the movement of his agile body and the flex of his tan, muscular arms that he has admired several times before. A simple white net covers his hair but Harry can see bits of it poking out from under. Perrie walks over to him and whispers before leaving the register.
Dusting his hands, he takes Perrie’s place at the register, leaving the baked goods by the display case. It’s not the first time he takes over the register but it’s also very rare for him to do so. When it’s Harry’s turn, he beams at Louis and the blue eyed man quirks an eyebrow. He clearly has seen Harry frequent the shop but has never uttered a word about it. Harry is not exactly sure on that assumption. “Your order sir?” Flour covers the top of his shoulder and the front of his apron is dusted with it as well, Harry notes as he surveys the man oblivious that he’s being watched too.
“The usual.” Harry replies before backtracking. “A cheese scone and a hot chocolate, please.”
Louis is quick, setting about to make the hot chocolate in a few minutes and placing a scone carefully on the tray over a tissue. Harry pays for it, taking more time than necessary to find the cash in his wallet. Harry finds an empty seat where he can both see Louis and have the window to stare out of. He finds himself drifting his gaze over to Louis, even while he eats. He finds it fascinating to watch the young man even if he never really smiles much or talks for very long.
As creepy as it is for Harry to come to the shop just because of Louis, it’s become more of a place for him to relax now. Besides he never gets caught staring because Louis never watches people. He is always looking busy one way or another. If it’s not baking, he’ll take the register or clean the tables or arrange the display case, anything to keep his hands busy it seems.
Sometimes Harry wishes Louis would notice him, not in the everyday customer manner but in a oh I’ve seen this kid at the college ground, he seems fun way. The thing is, Harry barely even catches sight of Louis on college grounds, it’s like he hides in the shadows. He’ll only ever see him on the football field or walking among his crowd of friends or very rarely walking the building corridors. They only share one class as of lately, an English course but Harry’s not the kind of person someone like Louis would associate with. Harry wouldn’t fit in. But there’s a strong aura around Louis that Harry finds soothing. Ever since that first day they had sat next to each other on the bus to college, Harry found himself longing for that familiar feeling. But ever since he saw Louis climbing that tree at campus, he had wanted to get to know the man. He’s infatuated is what he is.
Harry pulls out his books and laptop, choosing to complete his sociology assignments with a sigh. It had been a stroke of luck that he ended up doing sociology when at college he had to keep changing classes every semester, from law to literature and psychology. He even took art once. He has only one assignment, related to his spell class and it’s on the history of someone no one cares to remember, who invented the spell for increased growth in crops.
Being a harmonizer isn’t just a simple talent of having the ability to evoke specific feelings or emotions, it’s mountains of homework and research too. Harry has no idea why he has to take an speciality class but they’re mandatory in University anyway.
When Perrie resumes her place at the register, Louis only appears once more from the back to arrange iced velvet cakes into the display case. Harry doesn’t see him for the rest of his stay. He has had a coffee and a biscuit in his duration of finishing two assignments, two pages each before wariness starts to hit him. He packs his things, clears the wrappers and empty cups onto the tray and places it on the counter as he leaves. Perrie grins at him. “Hey Harry. Finished your work?”
“Hi.” He pays her for his second order and requests a few pastries for his friend. “Yes, I did. Thank you very much.” She smiles and hands him a bag with a large, cursive M on it.
When Harry gets to his flat, there’s not a sound. It’s always quiet when Harry gets home since Liam, his flatmate and best friend of three years finishes work past nine every day. Renting a two bedroom flat where the living room and the kitchen are in close quarters isn’t easy. It’s the very reason Harry sells love spells, for the sole reason of paying for his college fees and the bills around the flat. His mother insists on paying his University expenses but he only ever lets her pay half, especially since he doesn’t need a reputation being a favourite student just because his mother is part of the council. The good part is that Liam earns more and he doesn’t study all that much in Uni either so he pays up an extra bit for rent. He should because Harry is always the one to clean up after him or is the one present most of the time to look after the flat.
Harry puts the pastries in a tupperware to place in the microwave in a container, then proceeds to open the faucet to fill the sink. He gathers the plates,pots and silverware with a spell and gets them to settle into the sink where bubbles of soap have foamed, and with a snap of his fingers the brush gets off the counter to start working on the dishes. He dumps the clothes from the laundry basket into the washing machine that sits in their bathroom and switches it on. It hums to life while he washes his face and towels it dry. When he’s sure there’s nothing left to do, he picks an apple from the fruit basket and takes his book bag into his bedroom.
It’s very small but good enough for him. There is space for a big bed and a cupboard and a desk. Posters of musicians and several bands line the walls along with his family photographs. He has a single pot on the window sill, a Jade plant that desperately loves the sunshine. Without even thinking, Harry waves his fingers and the water from the glass on the desk floats over to sink into the soil in the pot. Harry brushes the backs of his fingers against the plant’s leaves and smiles. It gets terribly lonely around the flat, especially when there’s no Liam to putter around, hence why he bought the plant in the first place. He loves it during the weekend when Liam is awake so early and bustling in the kitchen or cleaning the flat because he can never do it during the weekdays.
Finishing his coursework somehow turns into browsing a blog about cats and he isn’t even aware of the time until a loud bang startles him out of his seat. “Shit!” He groans, rubbing his forehead where he bumped it on the desk during his fall.
“Sorry!” Liam calls. Harry has barely gotten off the floor when several seconds later there’s a strained yell. “Fuck! Harry!!”
“What is it?” Harry runs out into the living room in panic. What could possibly have Liam in such a strop? Liam’s dismay seems to be directed at Harry. He gasps as soon as he sets foot into the kitchen. Liam is standing in a large puddle of water, hunched over the sink. There are sopping towels all around him and he’s pulling the utensils out of the sink so he can remove the plug. “Oh.”
“You left the bloody tap on,” Liam grumbles, “Get your arse over here and help me. This is all your fault.”
Harry raises both his hands in a manner of surrender and walks over the water on tiptoes. He makes a face as he collects the dripping towels. “Couldn’t you have just used magic to get rid of this?”
“Are you blind? I’m quite stuck here trying to unclog the drain.”
With a sigh, Harry goes into the bathroom to find a bucket. He drops the towels into it and whispers a spell while he pinches his fingers and moves his wrist in a circle over the puddle. The water swirls in the same motion, like a cyclone and hovers in the air right before it flows like a waterfall into the bucket. “There.”
“Thanks mate.”
“Is there anything else I need to clean up?”
“Yes. The dishes.”
“Can’t you do it?” Harry makes a face.
Liam briefly looks up. He’s holding a stack of plates in his hand, waiting for the water to drain. “Do you have work to do?”
“Sort of.” Harry nods, thinking, “There’s a spell I need to check actually.” He gestures to the sink, “One that relates to this.”
“It can wait.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
“Thanks Li.” Harry grins widely mostly because he doesn’t want to hug Liam who happens to be sweaty. “Take a shower. You stink.”
“Thanks you nutter!” Liam calls back almost amusedly. Harry shakes his head. He shuts off his laptop and arranges his books only to come up empty handed because he can’t find his bloody spell book. He profusely searches through the desk drawers and under the blanket, even pulls out everything in his bag again. There’s no spell book and his heart starts hammering so loudly, he thinks he might faint. He can’t lose the book. Students are only ever given one in their lifetime and they can’t lose it.
Blood thumping loud in his ears, Harry runs back into the living room short of breath. He starts pulling off the cushions on the sofa and rummaging through the papers on the coffee table even though he hadn’t spent any part of the day in the living room. It’s starting to drive him insane. “Have you seen my spell book?” He yells. He’s not even sure if he’s yelling, it’s more like a screech.
“No.” Liam comes to stand by the doorway to the kitchen, hands wet all the way up to his elbows and still wearing his work clothes. “Did you lose it?”
“What does it look like?” Harry snaps. He throws a cushion to the ground in irritation. “Fuck! Today’s gone to absolute sh--”
“Language.” Liam tuts. He moves to search through their things but Harry’s stop him.
“Don’t. I already did.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots. His mood had changed so drastically in a matter of seconds and even thinking about frustrates him.
“Where was the last place you used it?” Liam tries to be helpful. Harry feels bad for snapping at him earlier. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to desperately think where he might have last put it.
“I was studying.” He mumbles, casting his gaze to the floor. He stares at it so intensely that it seems as if he’s burning a hole through the ground. “I’m sure I might have taken it out when I came home but it’s nowhere.”
“So, you came home from work didn’t you?” Liam asks. He has obviously by hearted Harry’s schedule which is very creepy. “You must have left it at Nick’s then.” Harry’s eyes widen. “You can get it tomorrow.”
“No. I need it now.” Harry sputters out, hurrying over to the coat rack to pull on his own jacket. He stuffs his feet into his brown suedes and picks up the house keys from the bowl. Liam hurries after him.
“Where are you going? Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to go back to Nick’s?”
“Not to Nick’s.” Harry shakes his head, smiling because he’s very sure he knows where he left the book and he needs to get it now or who knows if someone else will come across it. “It’s at the bakery.”
“Marge’s?” Liam instantly asks looking very confused.
“Yeah. I always go there after work,” Harry replies. He slips out the door and doesn’t even hear what Liam yells at him. He runs to the bus stop, coat billowing behind him and hair dancing in the breeze, whipping his face painfully. Harry is out of breath when he comes to stand under the roof of the bus stand. There is a young woman in work clothes and a messy bun on her head where once it had been neat Harry assumes. He throws her a comforting smile and leans against the pillar. He can hear the bus approaching, the engine rumbling as it comes down the road.
The driver drops him at Marge’s bakery and cafe and Harry can’t find it in himself to smile because what if it’s not there anymore? What if someone’s seen and taken it with them? He’ll be totally fucked. His mum would give him a good talking to and he’d have to go to the council to get a new book and that would be a whole lot of trouble because there are papers to sign and questions to answer. He could very well do with borrowing a classmate’s spellbook, but no one is ever willing to give theirs. Their books are specifically for their talent, only few have the same speciality and to be honest, even Harry would never lend his book to anyone.
As soon as he pushes the door and enters the shop, the bell ringing is the only sound in the silence. There’s the faded smell of baked bread and sugar but he has never heard nor seen the shop so quiet. He has never been present before closing hours. There’s no one at the counter although all the lights are on and everything looks properly cleaned. He makes to move towards the table he had sat that evening when the backroom bursts into laughter. He panics for a second before inhaling deeply. Harry slips his hands into his pockets and takes a few steps towards the left corner.
“Hey!” The loud call has him halting. He swallows and slaps a smile onto his face before he turns around. And if the rising panic regarding his book hadn’t been enough, he has lost all of his breath...Louis is standing right there, a few feet from him. He’s not in his work clothes. His soft hair is brushed to the side and his scruff is a golden brown under the lights. His blue eyes scrutinize Harry as he folds his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I--um--,” Harry gulps, jerking his thumb behind him. Fuck! Why Louis of all people? Louis arches an eyebrow. Harry clears his throat to try again. “I came back for my book.”
Louis shuffles a few steps forward and Harry can smell the air around him. He smells of soap and smoke and something comforting. It’s a feeling, some sort of warm feeling that immediately settles into Harry’s bones and tugs at him. He wonders if it’s something he can create, if he’d even be able to do that. “Did you find it?” Louis pointedly looks at Harry’s empty hands. Harry blushes and lowers his eyes.
“No. You--kind of caught me in the act.”
When he looks up, he is astounded to realize that Louis has his lips pressed in a thin line but with a quirk to his lips almost as if he’s trying not to laugh. It pleases Harry because Louis finds him funny but he’s just not giving in. “Sorry then. Do you need help?”
“No. Just--” Harry raises a finger. “A minute.” He hurries over to the table in long strides and upon seeing the raisin coloured, thick, hardcover book with its edges purposely bent makes his chest sag in relief. The silver swirling letters spell out Harmonizer’s Handbook, and the spot where Liam had once decided to draw eyebrows on the two O’s. It’s still there albeit a bit faded and Harry knows it’s his. He clutches it to his chest and turns around with a grin aimed at Louis. “Found it.”
“Glad to hear that, man.” Louis gives a thumbs up. “You off now?”
“Yeah. Going home.” Harry nods. He can’t believe that he’s actually able to speak coherent sentences to Louis. He had always expected himself to stutter out some silly words when it came to a proper conversation with the lad, putting aside the times he orders his drinks on the rare occasions. He has never been eloquent when it comes to the guys he crushes on.
Louis turns around and walks behind the counter. Harry watches him mess with a couple of drawers, seemingly searching for his belongings. “You want anything from here?”
“No. I already took some pastries when I was here earlier.”
“Oh.” Louis looks up. “You were here before?”
Louis’ inattentiveness stakes Harry in the heart, more like a sting to the chest at least. He tries not to seem like he’s visibly frowning. Is he that invisible to this boy? Thing is Louis doesn’t sound surprised by Harry’s admission. “Yeah. I was.” He wonders why he’s still standing in the middle of the shop like an idiot. Liam’s probably waiting for him.
Louis hums. Harry can’t stand the silence. He feels invisible with Louis puttering around without another word and he has to say something...anything. “Are you the only one here?”
“Perrie left a couple minutes ago. I’m just closing up.”
Harry creases his forehead. “Oh. I thought I heard someone laughing earlier.”
“That was me on the phone to my flatmate.” Louis huffs a laugh. He brings a hand to fix his fringe when it falls in front of his face. “He has always got something funny on the tip of his tongue.”
Harry opens his mouth to say something in response He can’t think of anything but his phone starts vibrating in his pocket right then, anyway. He is relieved for the distraction but irritated at the same time that his time with Louis is cut short. It’s Liam but he doesn’t answer it. “So, I’m gonna head back.” Harry says. Louis nods. “Um have a nice night?”
“You too, mate.”
He doesn’t know why he keeps lingering by the door even when he’s leaving but Louis doesn’t spare him a second glance. He’s shutting the display cases tight and doing last minute checks, and switching off the lights. Not wanting to still be there when he exits, Harry takes quick strides to cross the road and hurries to the bus stand.
Harry is greeted by the sight of most of the furniture in the living room floating in mid air. He nearly brains himself on a table leg. “What in the name of Merlin’s beard is going on?” Harry calls, just in case Liam can’t hear him. Shutting the door behind him and ducking under a chair, he briefly wonders if Liam has gotten himself stuck under a heap of furniture or something because crap, the flat is a sight. “Liam!” He calls once again. There’s a muffled shout and yes, he might be right.
He stands on his tiptoes to hang his coat on the floating coat rack and maneuvers around the furniture in search of Liam. “You okay, mate?” He asks when he spots Liam under the sofa. His breath hitches when the sofa that’s only floating a mere four inches lowers a bit. “What are you doing? What is this?”
Liam peeks his head out a silly smile on his face. “Looking for your book of course.” Seriously. He knows Liam’s telekinesis speciality is a godsend when it comes to important and necessary times such as moving flats or carrying in a fridge but this is absolutely bonkers.
“I already did.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He shows him the book, flips the pages and everything. “It was in the bakery, alright.”
Liam slumps against the floor, his entire body relaxing. Then he lifts a single hand. “A bit of help please?”
Shaking his head, Harry pulls the man off the floor with a grunt. Liam has put on so much muscle and he’s so built, it’s astounding because three years ago he looked like a disgruntled puppy with curly hair and a soft, lean body. He looks like fucking Hulk now. It’s all the heavy work he does at the airplane factory. “Glad you found it.” Liam pats Harry on the back.
“Yeah. You might want to put our furniture down before they destroy the place or worse...us.”
Liam starts carefully setting the furniture back on the floor whilst standing in the middle of the room so his energy is directed everywhere. Harry leaves him to it and checks the kitchen to make sure it’s clean. He doesn’t feel as inspired as he had felt before to search for the specific spell, so he sets about cooking dinner.
He’s thinking of Louis in the back of his mind. He can feel Louis’ energy on his skin even though hadn’t touched, the fizzing of his magic. It’s not bright and sunny either, it sort of borders on darkness and a wavering instability. Harry isn’t quite sure, he’s supposed to know these things though because it’s his area of expertise and it makes him fret in agitation the more he thinks about it.
Liam plops on the kitchen chair several minutes later to eat the pastries Harry had gotten for him while doing a few assignments for his telekinesis class. He has his own ability book open beside him, a navy blue one with brown pages.
Harry shakes the bowl of vegetables into the pot of boiling water as the salt shaker shakes itself over the pot. “What kind of magic does Louis Tomlinson have?” Harry thinks to ask. He has never wondered before, maybe once or twice. He never says much about Louis to anyone else either, only a few times when he had gotten drunk or had been so lonely out of infatuation. Liam never brings it up, it’s not his business to pry into Harry’s privacy he says which makes Harry feel all the more grateful.
Liam shrugs, not taking his eyes off his work. “No idea. Don’t think he has any.”
Harry gawks. “What? That’s preposterous!”
“Rumours.” Liam shrugs again. “I’m not his friend.”
“Well,” Harry hesitates, “You hang around with popular kids too. I thought you’d know.”
“He’s a mystery, that one.”
Harry stirs the pot, nodding. He can’t think of anything to say in reply. All he can imagine is what it must be like for Louis to not know that he has magic. He can’t not have magic, Harry could practically feel the spark of it inches apart. Maybe Louis’ never fostered it or realized but he attends the same Uni they go to. If he’s non-magical, their speciality classes would’ve made him suspicious or something of the sort. “Stop thinking so much.” Liam’s voice floats over. “I can hear it all the way here.”
Harry grins and throws the dishcloth at him. It halts mid-air before it can even reach Liam and the man wiggles his eyebrows at Harry. “Dick,” Harry mumbles with a laugh.
They have some modern version of a soup that somehow happens to be a family recipe from Harry’s side. After dinner, Liam sits on the sofa with a beer to watch a show while Harry occupies the kitchen so he can concoct a potion. He’s trying to go for a warm, fuzzy feeling instead of the instant light obsession his love spells give. It’s not easy to simply create that feeling, it happens gradually and he needs ingredients to smoothen it out because even if he tried, the spell would be far too strong and make someone nauseous. Besides he’s not licensed to create strong spells, he’d probably be put into Council jail. So he sits and writes a list of ingredients he might need, flipping through the potion section of his spell book.
He should be practicing the spell for self-confidence with a partner and writing down his observations but instead, Harry lugs the largest pot they have from the closet into the kitchen and manages to balance it over the stove so it doesn’t touch the surface element. They don’t use the pot for daily cooking purposes since neither of them wants remnants of Harry’s potions to take effect. He lights the fire and pours several cups of water into the pot. While the water boils, Harry ties his long hair into a bun, loosening the edges so it doesn’t give him a headache before pulling out ingredients from the bottom cabinets. The only thing he’s missing are the rose petals and an extra bottle of red wine.
Harry adds several cups of honey in ratio to the amount of water in between five minute breaks. He drops fresh mint, pinches of orange zest, basil and coriander fifteen minutes in. He isn’t exactly sure what love feels like but it’s the simplest spell and anyone can really create it because it wears off eventually. It’s not the advanced version, hence why one must be extremely careful when used on a person. By the time it wears off, the person will actually be in love with the first person they see. Sometimes it doesn’t work. It isn’t necessarily bad since the one under influence wouldn’t even know they were under the spell.
“Are you making those potions of yours?” Liam yells over the sound of the television. “Don’t you have coursework?”
“I do,” Harry replies, “It can wait. I dropped an entire crate of potions today and this needs to be ready for next week.”
“Do you need help?”
“I’d rather not have you falling in love with me.” Harry smiles to himself. Suddenly he rushes to peek around the doorway. “You could buy me some red wine on the way home tomorrow.”
Liam cranes his neck over the sofa to look at him. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
Once everything in the pot has been brewing for at least half an hour, Harry floats it outside where there’s a small wooden shed that Liam had built for him. He sets the pot on a contraption and makes sure it’s stable so it doesn’t rattle the pot and cause it to fall over. He inhales the unfinished potion to get a whiff of it’s spicy smell before putting the lid on. It’ll settle and react till the time comes to take it to Nick’s.