Enchanted

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He was on edge. He glanced around him all the time, afraid a particular blue eyed boy would jump around a corner if he didn't pay attention for a minute. After his afternoon classes, he was on his way to the library, intending to spend the rest of the day with studying, so he'd be free tomorrow afternoon. He found his usual place, the dark purple armchair between the bookshelves. Heavy raindrops knocked on the fogged up glass of the window behind him, slided down as if they had to race the little drop that's near them. Sometimes Harry liked to just sit, give his brain a rest and watch the raindrops falling down, painting the glass and dancing around each other. They looked so alive, he'd always think, like they never got tired. 

He opened a book with old, torn edges and began to drown in the sentences and words written on the yellowish paper. It had to be a really old book because every letter was handwritten. Sometimes an accidentally wrong spelled word was scratched with a straight line across it. The letters were carved artistically on the paper with an old quill, probably. Harry loved to write with quills. It felt so oldschool and he has a passion for doing oldschool things. Sometimes he was even happy the modern devices like computers or TV's weren't allowed at Hogwarts. Also, mobile phones. You had to put in an effort to meet up with your friends spontaneously, you send them an owl or hex a note to them, search them on the property and ask around where you could find them. It was exciting for Harry.

When he had his little break he was brought a sandwich by Liam who already knew Harry’d skip dinner in order to study more. His brain was buzzing after one or two hours of reading and solving some tasks in his head. He turned his body in the armchair and wriggled around until his back was against the high armrest, his head placed on the smooth fabric of the backrest. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugged them above the blanket and silently watched the drops rattle against the thick glass. The peaceful silence of the library calmed him down from the restlessness he sometimes had when he had an awful lot to study for his exams. The next few weeks he had one or two exams each week and he tried to start to revise as early as possible to avoid stressing. 

He often wondered if he did too much. Too much subjects, extra work, projects, studying, reading, being alone, hiding in the library, living a, to others, dull life. He wondered if it was worth the small, emotionless words "Well done" after another excellent grade, the lack of scolding about how he wasn't smart, strong, able, fast enough at school, how he should study more, make them proud, don't pull their name through the mud. It was a lot of pressure but he was accustomed to it since he was six and had a private teacher to teach him and he'd learned stuff he didn't even hear from at Hogwarts. He was required to be the best at everything, his father had tried to train him in Qudditch but slapped him after he failed multiple times and it never came up in a conversation again. Harry sometimes remembered the red mark his mother didn't bat an eye on as she saw it, just sent him to his room to study.

Somehow, his house always has been cold. It wasn't his home, not after he discovered what a home felt like. It wasn't the screaming from downstairs as soon as his parents thought he was fast asleep. Not the pain he'd had to suffer physically, mentally. Not the stone cold expressions that were cemented on his parents' faces, the frowns if they felt adventurous for a little bit of a change in their sad life. It was sad, honestly. How come, Harry hasen't seen them laugh since he could remember? How could one live without a spark of happiness, laughter, fun, love?

He hadn't really known happiness before he met Liam and Niall, his first friends in his life. He had been careful at approaching them, open up to them. Up to this day he struggled with speaking openly to them. He's never mentioned what happened in his childhood, not how he was forced to be smart, successful at an age he only should have cared about running around in the garden, playing with his neighborhood friends, climbing trees, scratching his knee open, coloring pictures for his mother to hang them on the fridge, making jokes with his father and building a treehouse to spend their sleepovers there. 

If Harry had a bad day, he imagined to have had all of these things. In a different life, where his parents were happy, in love and caring and nice. He never shed tears though. Before it would happen, he would think of his friends and how fortune he was to have them. They literally saved him from dying internally from the emtptiness his parents dug into his soul.

A tear nearly slipped out of his right eye as he reminisced about his sad childhood, or rather the lack of it. It almost rolled down his cheek like the rain did on the window he still stared at. He probably should get back to reading but he couldn't tear his eyes from the soothing picture in front of him.

If only Louis would be here, his mind piped up in the quietness of the library. He flinched at the thought but then he asked himself why shouln't he embrace it. Embrace the happy, flirty boy with the eyes made of sapphires, the skin shining like honey and the voice written by angels? He could maybe be another friend of his if Louis wanted to. Possibly he didn't even want to be friends with him, he was awkward. But he had complimented him, laughed with him, brought him to his common room last night, sat with him at dinner today. He said he'd see Harry at the library later, so, where was he? 

Harry sighed and sank deeper into the cushions of the armchair, the purple shimmering in the dim light of the lamps above his head. He finally picked up his book that laid in his lap and continued to read. That was, until steps sounded up, just near the entrance of the library. His head snapped up at the fast feet colliding with the wooden floor, sometimes dampened by the rugs coating a vast amount of the place. Harry glanced around as the steps became louder, shortly stopped and suddenly, caramel colored hair and a beaming face peeked around the corner of a shelf. Louis was here. Oh Merlin, was he gorgeous, Harry couldn't help but think.

"Well, hello, Harold," Louis said lightly and stepped in the aisle, his face lit up by a lamp near him.

Harry stared with his mouth agape at the angel in front of him speaking to him. He'd only seen him a few hours ago and still, Harry was entchanted by the boy seeking his company. His lips streched into a wide smile and the loud thud of his racing heart wasn't as loud as the last time he'd seen him. He was happy to see Louis because he came to Harry and he didn't even have to ask for it. Louis enjoyed being with him. It seemed impossible to Harry.

"Yeah, show me those dimples, Harold," Louis exclaimed with a grin and all of a sudden Harry's confidence was gone and swapped out by his shy and awkward self who couldn't cope with the complimenting things Louis dared to say. "No, no, don't hide them, please, I like 'em!" 

Harry bit his lip as to not to break out in a huge smile and slowly lifted his gaze to meet Louis' piercing eyes. He'd stepped a bit closer, leaning his hip against the desk to Harry's left side, his arms loosly folded over his chest, his head cocked and his smile bright. He was so beautiful. So breathtaking. Harry wondered if he ever got tired of being so perfect.

"Hi," He spoke quietly but it was enough to ignite Louis' smile so that the little crinkles around his eyes appeared. Harry loved them.

"What are you reading today?" Louis asked curiously and looked down at the closed book in his hands. Harry only had put a finger in between the pages to not lose the page he was on.

Harry quickly gathered his courage, dusted it off as he dragged it out of the back and pushed it to the front. "I, uhm, study for Transfiguration." Well done, he praised himself proudly.

"You like it?" Louis asked. How came, he always seemed so interested in his life? Normally, people tend to overlook him and didn't bother to get to know him. It was refreshing, thrilling.

"Yes, love it." He smiled again, making sure to pop his dimples and he thought he saw Louis' eyes light up even more. He decided to smile more often to see that entrancing expression on that beautiful face, that pretty human being. Pretty. Yes, to him, Louis was also pretty. He was all kind of words that could come near the perfection this boy was. He'd probably never get tired of finding new words to describe Louis.

"That is good. What subject do you not like, if there is even one," He laughed and his eyes nearly closed in the process. He looked really cute, like a little puppy Harry'd like to cuddle a bit.

"Uh...I don't enjoy Dark Arts that much. It's...creeping me out, I guess," He said and looked at Louis with big eyes. He was afraid that Louis loved Dark Arts and hated him for not liking it. He's heard that Durmstrang was big on teaching about the Dark Arts.

"That's okay. Nobody likes everything." The words were calming and Harry asked himself why he was so paranoid about Louis hating him or judging him when he's been nothing but charming and understanding since he's met him. "Next question. Which one's your favorite?" Harry laid his head back on the backrest to think. This was hard. "Only one." Oh, Harry's just thought how he liked some of them equally.

"I don't think I can decide on one, really," He voiced out his thoughts and pursed his lips in a pout. He imagined Louis' eyes to flicker down to his mouth but he couldn't exactly tell from the distance. He wished Louis'd come closer, maybe take his hand and soothe his soft fingers over his skin.

"Then which ones are your favorites?" Louis rephrased and smirked cheekily. Harry kind of loved this smirk.

"Uh, I think I like Transfiguration and Muggle Studies the most, honestly," He decided and waited for the boy's reaction.

"Why's that?" Louis asked, not judging but out of sheer curiosity.

"I really love being able to tranform things, make them different, interesting. Or better and prettier." Louis smiled at that. Harry blushed a bit, if he guessed the heat in his face right and spoke up again. "Muggle Studies because I love learning about the muggles and how they live. I like to think they aren't that different to us wizards, just not so...magical, you could say." Harry turned his book with the open side onto his lap and folded his hands above it, again waiting for Louis to comment on his little explanation, avoiding his eyes in the meantime to look at the books piling up next to Louis' waist on the desk. He'd put them away when he was finished with his studying even though he isn't sure whether he'd be able to concentrate after this converstation.

"That's lovely," Is not what Harry expected to hear after a few seconds of silence.

He looked back into those blue eyes that haven't left his frame since Louis arrived here. "It...is?" He questioned.

"'Course. I find it impressive when wizards are open to learn about muggles. A lot of us are opposed to them, to put it lightly," Louis explained.

"I think so, too." Harry smiled. Once again, Louis encouraged his opinion rather than smashing it down like his parents would if he thought different about something.

"It's sad some don't want to discover a new world and instead choose to live in ignorance. It's cowardly in my opinion. I think muggles are really interesting," Louis carried out the topic and smiled softly at Harry. 

His heart skipped a beat and continiued pounding at a double as fast pace. "Yeah," He managed to sigh and averted his eyes to his lap.

Then, Louis feet appeared in his sight. He was standing in front of him. Directly in fornt of him. Like the last time, just that Harry had been a tad more nervous than he was now. "Harry?" 

Say my name again.

He looked up, his head in his neck from peering up at the boy. "Yes?"

Louis' lips parted slightly, he wetted them with his tongue. Tongue. Lips. His bright eyes looked straight into Harry's green ones. Harry gulped around his dry tongue glued to the top of his mouth. "What're you doin' tomorrow?" Was the question and Harry's mind was blank.

"I, uh, I'm going to watch the game." Gulp. "Liam will play, I promised to watch," He pressed out, somehow being able to remember about the game with this entrancing gaze on him. The next words slipped out instead of being thought through. "Do you want to come with?" As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, he squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head. What on earth were you thinking!

"Hey..." Soft fingertips touched his jaw, traced a line to his hairline in his neck then to the front of his chin. Harry didn't breathe. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. His skin tingled where it was touched carefully, with consideration. Gentle pressure on his jaw caused his head to dip back and lift his eyes again to look Louis in the eyes. Oh, those eyes. "I'd love to come with you to the game, Harry."

I love when you say my name.

"Really?" Harry breathed out softly, surprised at the positive answer.

"Yes, love, really." His smile broadened and Harry had to smile, too, show his deep dimples because he just couldn't not smile when he was around a smiley Louis.

Love. "O-Okay." The fingertips disappeared, the hand rests on Louis' side. Harry wanted the hand to touch him again. Not just in his face… Not the dream playing in his mind again. He chased those inappropriate thoughts away, tried to concentrate on the present, where Louis was in front of him, smiling, with a beautiful rusty red jumper coating his upper body. "It starts at four,” He managed. They really were doing this, oh Merlin, they were meeting up for the game.

"I'll meet you at quarter to four where we said goodnight last time."

This sentence sounded so beautiful out of Louis' pink lips. "Okay. Yes!" Harry smiled brightly, now happy instead of insecure. Because Louis wanted to meet him and watch a game together, the game of his best friend. They'd see each other tomorrow again. They'd speak. He was so looking forward to that.

"Can I bring you back to your common room again this time?" Louis asked suddenly and Harry breathed in shakily. 

Then, he threw all his doubts that Louis wasn’t being sincere overboard and he nodded. And he grinned, dimples all out and he scrambled to his feet, laying the blanket on its usual place under the chair. He pointed at the books next to Louis and asked if it would be okay if he’d put them away first. Louis wholeheartedly agreed and stepped away to make space for Harry. Louis shook his head and smiled fondly behind his back as Harry sorted the pile of books back into the shelf and didn’t think about just using his wand. And if he glanced at the cute little bum peeking out unter the thick, dark green jumper Harry wore as he stretched to reach a higher shelf and made him laugh and blush while walking the curly haired boy to the Hufflepuff’s common room, well, he wouldn't want to change a single thing.

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