Collision; Larry

7.

"I won, you pompous liar."

"You did not!"

"I'm taller, I'm faster, and I'm stronger. Clearly this couldn't end any other way."

"Well, things must just be that much more embarrassing for you, then, since I had more apples than you did despite all that."

Maybe Harry and Louis just aren't meant to not fight; it's been only a little more than an hour since they arrived here in Mother Hulda's quarters, and they couldn't even make it half of that time. Louis thinks they're probably a lost cause. He's not going to take the step to change that, though. He's not letting Harry win.

He doesn't let Harry come up with a retort to his sassy statement, because then Louis sees the smoke of a chimney and the brick wall kind of red beyond the birch trees they're walking among.

"Hey!" he exclaims, pointing to where the cabin is comfortably standing. "That must be Mother Hulda's place, must it not?"

"'Must it not?'" Harry mutters mockingly. Louis ignores him for now, picking up speed towards the little house they've been searching for.

When they're close enough, they see an old woman open a window to peek out on her visitors. Which should be completely fine and understandable, and nothing that would cause any exaggerated reactions.

Except this woman has got these enormous teeth-like giant marble blocks. Louis lets out a surprised borderline horrified yelp, backing straight into Harry's warm body out of reflex and then flying two steps forward again, startled by the physical contact.

The lady doesn't seem to be bothered by Louis' obvious discomfort, though, as she just smiles and calls out;

"Do not be afraid, dear! Stay with me. Things will go well for you both if you do the work of my house properly, for I am Mother Hulda."

Louis inhales and exhales deeply to calm himself down. Harry snickers beside him and the fairy promptly elbows him in the side.

"Don't be a tool," he mutters. "Let's just get this over with. Put on your best smile."

Louis doesn't look at his companion to see if he's complied, because honestly, if Harry wants to spend the rest of his life with nasty pitch drenching his skin, that'll be his own business and nothing Louis will be a part of. He's doing this by the book.

Louis' feet lift only a couple of inches above the ground, and he lightly flies over to the nice little door and knocks carefully. When Mother Hulda opens, Harry's right behind him on the doorstep again.

"Hello," Louis greets her with a smile. "I'm Louis and this is Harry. It's lovely to meet you."

Mother Hulda welcomes them inside with open arms and huge toothed grin, and Louis must say she really is one charming old lady, despite her mildly horrifying appearance. There is a plate of cookies and a pitcher of lemonade on her round little kitchen table, as if she'd known someone would soon be visiting.

"Tell me about yourselves, dears. How did you get here?" she asks them, and Louis smiles nervously.

"My name is Louis, and this is Harry-I already told you that-and... Well. We're not exactly sure of how this happened, it's all a bit hard to comprehend still," he shrugs, fumbling to come up with a quick, believable lie. "I was just casually spinning by the well and keeping a small conversation with Harry, when I pricked my finger on the needle! And the pain was so sudden I fell backwards still clenching the spindle tightly, and Harry was sitting right next to me so I tried to hold onto him, but then we both fell instead."