Smut and fluff

ain't had none like you in a while

By istajmaal

Part 1 of time travel daddy

Summary

It kind of sucks that instead of using time travel to go back and kill Hitler, Simon Cowell chooses to use it to get his clients to advise younger versions of themselves. Sixteen-year-old Harry's not bitter, it's just that his relationship with Louis was complicated enough before he saw him with hot dad hair.

Harry had long ago decided, while he was reading the Harry Potter books, that the first thing he would do if he could time travel was go to Hogwarts. His mother hadn't wanted to tell him that Hogwarts wasn't real in any time period, just listened and stroked his hair placidly as he wondered aloud whether he should visit the Owlery first, or try to find the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch so he could get to Honeydukes. When Gemma finally told him he could never time-travel to Hogwarts, Harry was outraged. He huffed about it for a week. What good was time-travel if you couldn't go to Hogwarts?

Good for business, apparently.

When Simon instructs the members of One Direction to come to a posh London hotel two days after they sign their post-X Factor record deal, they all think he's pulling one on them when he says that he's invited their future selves to advise them on their immediate next steps. Niall can't stop laughing, Liam keeps rubbing his eyes like he's trying not to cry, and Harry gets angry, saying it's not funny to take the mickey out of them like this just because they're young and (apparently) naive. He's convinced the record deal wasn't real, it was all an elaborate candid camera set-up.

There's a knock on the door after Harry finishes his rant. Louis squeezes his knee. Part of Harry's brain shuts off and he thinks, at least there's that.

"That should be them," Simon says, his eyes gliding over Harry impassively. Zayn rubs his temples. "Come in!" The door opens. "Boys," Simon says, "it's my pleasure to introduce you to One Direction."

Harry turns to face the door and all his protest dies in his throat.

Zayn's the first one to speak. "Holy shit."

Holy shit. It's—like, for a fraction of a second Harry might have believed that this was a part of it, like they're actors, but the men in their late twenties in the doorway just sort of stand there awkwardly for a moment, like they don't know what to do, until someone says, "For God's sake, lads, I think we'd have remembered if one of us were rabid. Get a move on."

That's Louis. Harry would know Louis's voice anywhere. Louis's hand tightens on Harry's knee. Holy shit. As the—apparently freshly time-traveled—older versions of the boys file into the room, Harry just knows. He knows these boys, even in their new posh clothes with their new posh hair and expensive watches. He sinks back into the couch between Louis and Zayn and just gapes as the older versions of themselves look down at the boys on the couch like they're strangers.

"It seems 2022's been treating you well," Simon says. He's grinning with smug satisfaction as the boys on the couch stare at themselves. Louis hasn't closed his mouth since the older version of him spoke. Holy shit.

"No complaints," older-Liam says. His voice sounds light. Not at all like the Liam Harry knows, who is staring at older-Liam with a weird mixture of awe and... disdain, maybe? There are a lot of things going on right now, Harry can't process them all.

"I've got some complaints," older-Niall says. He looks at the couch where the five boys are all squeezed, and laughs out loud. "God, look at our hair!" he says. He elbows older-Liam while the younger version of himself gawks at his soft hairstyle, without even a hint of bleach. "I'd forgotten how curly your hair was back at the beginning, Li."