Chapter Text
If Harry were to compile a list of all the things he was terrible at, subtlety would be scrawled over the top of the parchment in bright red ink.
Years of distractedly shattering teacups and receiving pointed coughs could certainly attest to that. But it wasn't his fault, really, when Louis Tomlinson was a firework in the form of a teenage boy, lighting up Harry’s universe. His dazzling persona captured every inch of Harry’s attention, and Harry certainly couldn’t be blamed if he dropped a cup or two after being on the receiving end of a signature Tommo wink.
Fortunately for what remained of Harry’s dignity, he wasn’t the only one utterly captivated by the Slytherin boy. Louis had marched into Hogwarts as a first year, unabashedly loud and seemingly fearless as he chatted animatedly with the Sorting Hat in front of the entire school for a quarter of an hour. Everyone present was instantly charmed by his quick wit and dancing blue eyes, and unsurprisingly, mass admiration for the boy only grew over his years at school. Harry would have denied the existence of structural popularity among the school’s student body, but even he could admit that if there was ever a Golden Boy at Hogwarts, it was Louis Tomlinson. Even the teachers had a soft spot for Louis, despite the minor chaos he caused with delight in class.
Harry’s adoring gaze blended in with those of hordes of other students, so he wasn’t the least bit surprised that Louis never seemed to truly notice him. He’d eventually discovered that he and Louis had mutual friends, and they’d even gone to Hogsmeade in the same group once or twice, but still, they’d never even had a one-on-one conversation.
And Harry was determined to fix that.
Unfortunately for him, their interests, and consequently, their schedules, couldn’t have been more different. Louis was the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and spent his free time flying around the pitch, while Harry was Hogwarts’ current Wizard’s Chess champion, and was likely to be found holed up in the library with his nose in a book. Outside of class, they rarely saw each other.
Harry did at least try to have something in common with the Slytherin boy. In his second year, he’d attempted to learn how to fly a broom in hopes of eventually joining the Gryffindor team, but one fractured wrist and a bruised ego later he was forced to conclude that some things (namely, himself) weren’t meant to leave the ground.
After that, he’d tried to capitalize on his class time interactions.
He secretly prided himself on his knack for charms and spells, and would wait until he thought Louis was looking in his direction to cast whatever incantation he was attempting, hoping that his skill might be enough for the blue-eyed boy to find him interesting. It didn’t work; Louis occasionally looked on with curiosity, but he was no sooner going to approach Harry than he would have before.
Realizing that that particular tactic was misguided, Harry instead tried intentionally forgetting his parchment and quill, simply so that he would have to ask a certain Slytherin for a spare. This plan worked quite well actually, until Harry realized that he could only ask so many times before he began to look too desperate.
In fifth year, he mustered up the courage to send an enchanted love note during transfiguration. However, he was so nervous he pointed his wand the wrong way and the parchment sparrow he had constructed fluttered onto Caroline’s desk instead. Too embarrassed to explain who the note had really been for, Harry had gone out with her for a full two weeks.
So, after one too many failed attempts to get Louis to notice him, Harry had simply given up hope and settled for admiring from afar. Seven years of resigning himself to longing stares had brought him to potions class, absentmindedly prodding a spare sprig of fluxweed with his quill, while he gazed, transfixed, at soft caramel skin framed by striped emerald silk and wisps of lilac steam.
He was vaguely aware that his curls were beginning to frizz from the haze of magenta fog rising from the bubbling cauldron, but couldn't bother to make anything of it when Louis was the manifestation of moonlight just three rows in front of him.
"Harry!" Liam's strained whisper was accompanied by a sharp elbow to the side. Harry let out an oof and tore his eyes away from the artfully tousled mop of hair.
"Wha-wh—"
"You've gone and turned the bloody potion pink!" His distressed friend hissed while flipping frantically through his battered textbook. "The book says it should turn an emerald green after you add the porcupine quills!"
"Shit, sorry!" Harry apologized, fumbling to stir the bubbling potion. He cringed when he felt the ladle fuse to the glutinous substance. "Oops." He prodded the fuchsia sludge defeatedly and gagged as the stench of rotten eggs wafted from the cauldron. "Eurgh, that's rank. I'm really sorry, Liam."
Liam sighed, abandoning his futile search for a remedy to stare sadly at the unredeemable slop. "It's fine, mate. What the hell happened?"
Under Liam’s fixed attention, Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks, suddenly finding himself unable to tell Liam exactly why he'd inadvertently butchered their potion. "I, uh, got distracted."
From the adjacent desk, Niall snorted, earning a sharp glare from Harry. Harry was perfectly aware that his obsession with the Slytherin boy wasn't well concealed by any means, but that didn't mean Niall had to run his loud mouth about it in the such close proximity to said boy. The Irish boy wasn't deterred by withering looks, however.
"Yeah, you're distracted alright." Niall said with a glint in his eyes, gesturing knowingly to the spot Harry had been staring and ignoring Harry's squeak of protest. "Tell me, Harry, do you think if you stare at him enough, Louis'll—"
Whatever Niall had been about to say next regarding the Slytherin boy was cut off as Harry lunged across the aisle to knock his arm down and clamp his hand over his mouth.
"Niall!" He squawked. "Shut up!"
Niall shook with laughter underneath Harry's grip, which only tightened when the blonde boy began to chant something that sounded suspiciously like "Harry and Louis sitting in a tree".
"Niall," Harry hissed, "if you don't shut up right this second I swear I'm going to make it my life mission to permanently lock you in a broom cupboard with Peeves!"
Niall only guffawed, coating Harry's palm with a layer of saliva, and attempted to shout what probably would have been "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" if Harry hadn't grabbed hold of the Hufflepuff's blonde hair and tugged. In his haste, Harry certainly hadn't accounted for the red sparks that jetted from Niall's wand, nor the sudden presence of a looming figure behind them.
"Mr. Styles, do we have a problem?"
Harry paled, slackening his iron grip on Niall, who slumped back into his seat with a delighted grin. He slowly turned to face Professor Cowell's disapproving stance.
The entire class blinked back at him, including, Harry realized with a sinking stomach, a pair of familiar blue eyes. He straightened hastily, trying to subtly wipe Niall's slobber onto his robes.
"Uh, no, Professor. There's no problem." Harry cringed at his own unsteady voice.
"I won't have this behavior in my classroom. I don't care what issues you and Mr. Horan here have, I expect better."
Harry nodded, his face flaming as he studied the cracks in the stone floor. "Yes, sir."
Beside him, Niall was still chuckling to himself and Harry made a mental note to strangle the boy later.
"And that'll be 5 points from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."
A groan arose from the maroon and canary yellow clad students, one which was silenced by a icy look from Professor Cowell. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Louis lean over and whisper into Zayn's ear with a quiet laugh, and he flushed with embarrassment when Zayn turned to look at him with an amused expression. However, the exchange didn't go unnoticed.
"Something to add, Mr. Tomlinson?"
Louis' eyes flashed up, catching Harry's wide eyes instead of the cold glare of their expectant teacher. Harry's heart began to pound rapidly as Louis held his gaze, and he willed himself not to blink or burp or do anything else embarrassing. Holy shit, Louis' eyes were blue. Like, really blue. They stared at each other, the silence of the classroom around them deafening.
"No, sir," Louis said easily, and by now Harry had forgotten what the question had been in the first place, because Louis was still staring straight at him with a smirk on his gorgeous face, and then suddenly he winked and Harry's existence imploded with an enormous bang. Niall's puke green concoction exploded, splattering in all directions and Harry's haphazardly extended wand clattered to the ground, now emitting a cloud of azure smoke.
Harry slowly raised his head, horrified.
Professor Cowell stood in the middle of the classroom, splattered in a layer of thick green moss and looking positively murderous. The veins in his neck stood out even from under the wooly herbage, and Harry gulped at the loud snap of the quill splintering in his teacher’s clenched fist. “Professor, I—”
"Let's make that 20 points from Gryffindor,” Professor Cowell said through clenched teeth, clearly attempting and failing to maintain his calm demeanor. “Three from Slytherin because I have a feeling you had something to do with this, Mr. Tomlinson, and a detention for you, Mr. Styles."
He picked a piece of moss from the tip of his upturned nose, glaring at the offending plant with a hatred he usually reserved for late students. “And I expect to have this classroom spotless by my next class.”
He whipped his wand through the air, and he was suddenly vegetation-free. Lifting his chin, he fixed his glare on Harry. “And no magic, Mr. Styles.”
Harry nodded numbly, and sat down, absolutely mortified. One brave glance toward the Slytherin boy in front of him revealed that Louis' eyes were wide with shock but he was fighting an amused grin. Laughing at Harry probably, not that Harry would blame him.
"You know, you could have just used Langlock to shut Niall up in the first place." Liam said reasonably as he picked stray clumps of moss from Harry's curls. Harry just groaned and buried his head in his arms, praying for death to inevitably take him.
*
It had been two days since the ‘Great Potions Disaster’ (as Harry had titled it in the midst of his woe), and Niall, Zayn, and Liam were squished comfortably into a nook in the library, snacking on contraband licorice wands and cauldron cakes the Irish boy had smuggled in from Hogsmeade. Still fresh in their minds, the topic of Harry's little pining problem was brought to attention.
"Alright lads," Niall said, straightening up and brushing stray crumbs from the folds of his cloak. "I can't be alone in thinking that we need to stage an intervention."
“An intervention?” Liam laughed. “For what?”
“Hazza’s obsessive crush. It’s killin’ me, lads.”
"Oh, come on, Niall, it can't be that bad," Zayn protested, flicking Niall’s shoulder with a licorice wand. “Who does he even fancy anyway?”
Both boys looked at him incredulously, and Liam let out a little strangled laugh. “Are you joking?”
The Slytherin boy raised an eyebrow, shrugging.
“Are you blind, Zayn?” Niall yelled, ignoring Madame Pince’s reproachful ‘shhh’ from somewhere behind the shelves. “Louis!”
Zayn blinked. “What about Louis?”
Niall rolled his eyes. “Zayn, you ignoramus, Harry’s frickin’ in love with Louis!”
Zayn stared, slack-jawed. “No. Fucking. Way.”
"Yes, way. Really, it's painful to watch, mate." Niall shook his head sadly, grabbing the licorice wand weapon that had since stilled in Zayn’s shock and shoving the entire thing in his mouth. "Yesterday, he accidentally singed the end of his eyebrow off during charms because Louis bent over to pick up a teacup."
“You’re joking.”
“Zayn,” Niall said, placing his hands on either side of his friend’s face and batting his blue eyes innocently. “Would I lie to you?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then, since we’re apparently disregarding our 6 wonderful years of friendship, would Liam lie to you?”
Zayn looked to Liam with raised eyebrows.
“It’s true, yeah.” Liam laughed, shaking his head at Zayn’s dumbfounded expression. “Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t notice it before. Are you really that shocked? What’d you think caused the potions debacle?”
Zayn choked on a laugh, eyes wide. “Lads, I think we’ve been presented with a wonderful opportunity.”
Niall sighed, reaching for the last cauldron cake. “What are you on about?”
“Louis,” Zayn said, grinning. “Louis fancies Harry.”
There was a moment where everything was silent save for the dull thunk of Niall’s cake hitting the ground. Then both boys screamed, “WHAT?”
At this eruption, Madame Pince hobbled into view, waving her finger accusingly. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Might I remind you that this is a library! And is that food I see on my floor?”
Sheepishly handing over what remained of their snacks and vanishing away the mess they’d made on the ground, the boys assured her that they would be quiet. They waited until she’d ambled out of earshot before turning to each other in a strained whisper.
“We have to tell them.” Liam insisted, positively giddy with excitement.
Niall absentmindedly wagged his finger in dismissal, his eyes suddenly alight with the prospect of so many possibilities. “No, that won’t work. Knowing Harry, he won’t believe us, and if Louis makes a move after that Harry’ll think it’s just out of pity.”
“Poor kid. It's not his fault Lou's about as observant as a tea cozy."
“We could just tell Louis that Harry fancies him, couldn’t we?” Liam suggested hopefully. “And let him make the first move?”
“Or we could send Harry love letters addressed from Lou. Better yet, we could just slip them both love potions!”
“Zayn, that’s illegal!”
“Only if you get cau—”
“Boys, you’re going about this all wrong.” Niall cut them off, shaking his head exasperatedly. “These things require a little more strategy and patience.”
“Oh, and you’re the great matchmaker here, are you now, Niall?”
“Oi,” The Irish boy crossed his arms, affronted. “Cara and Annie are disgustingly in love thanks to my superb matchmaking talents!”
“Accidentally hospitalizing two people because you mispronounced tarantallegra doesn’t count as match-making, Niall!” Zayn scoffed.
“Yeah, but they fell in love ‘cause of all that time they spent in the hospital wing together, didn’t they? Anyway, my point is that we’ve got to let them find each other.”
“What?” Liam frowned. “You mean, not do anything at all?’
“I didn’t say that.” Niall corrected. “All we need to do is give a bit of prodding and pushing and they’ll fall right into each other’s arms.”
“Pushing and prodding, how, exactly...?”
“Well,” The Hufflepuff boy grinned, “It’d be a shame if we were all to make plans to get together and just as we sat down Liam remembered he had promised to meet professor Binns for extra lessons, Zayn remembered he was late for detention, and I remembered I had forgotten my entire uniform, wouldn’t it?”
“Alright, why am I the one in detention?”
“That’s the thing you choose to focus on? Really, Zayn?”
“Fine, what’s your point?”
“My point is, assuming everything went according to plan and we were able to slip away, Harry and Louis would be left alone with a couple of hours to kill.” Niall waggled his eyebrows, adding, “Or to kiss, ideally.”
“You know, for someone who looks so cherubic, you can be quite devious, Niall.” Liam said thoughtfully.
“Thank you, Liam. Glad to know someone appreciates my talents.”
“I mean, it’s not a bad idea…” Zayn admitted reluctantly, ignoring Niall’s jab. “It could work.”
“So it’s settled, then?” Niall looked back and forth between the boys with gleaming eyes, rubbing his sticky hands together gleefully. “Operation Niall Is A Beast is in motion.”
Zayn held up . “I’m willing to participate in this scheme but I’m not calling it that.”
“Can we compromise on Operation Hufflepuffs Rule?”
“No.”
“Fine, you twat. Operation Veela then, because every time Louis so much as glances as Harry the kid acts like he’s been hit with lightning.”
Zayn laughed, finally nodding. “That’s one I’m willing to settle on.”
“Operation Veela it is.”
The issue finally addressed, the conversation drifted to the merits of muggle superhero names, and that was that.