what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

Chapter 2

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚HARRY˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Harry is not used to things not going his way. Being the firstborn son of one of the most prominent Clan families has its lifelong advantages and he finds that dealing with an opposing force is not a skill his wheelhouse possesses.

While he might be equipped with fine dining skills and impeccable manners, he is not acquainted with the concept of waiting his turn or having to want for anything.

Well aware that he was born with a silver spoon all but shoved in his mouth, he prides himself on taking advantage of it and tries to repay whatever Universe lottery he’s won by focusing on bringing honor to his family. He only wishes that he could do so without the burden of his rival.

The dainty bouquet of colorful flowers that awaits him at the university’s front office is a reminder of that sole opposing force in his life.

“Oh dear, is it Wednesday already?” The secretary asks with a knowing smile when he had come to collect them.

“I suppose it is,” Harry answers as cordially as possible while he surveys the flowers suspiciously.

Wednesdays left a bitter taste in his mouth.

That particular day of the week had always been his favorite. A fond reminder of when his parents and enough time to pick him up from school and prepare a real family dinner. The day he’d always get a heaping scoop of ice-cream after successfully completing his piano lessons, or when a new episode of his TV show had premiered.

Until Louis.

Wednesday’s had been one of the best things in his life and to have the goodness of them ripped so callously away from him by the bane of his existence did not sit well with Harrys ego.

His previous favorite day of the week had been tainted the very first time he had received an unsuspecting package on the passenger seat of his car. He had been walking to the university parking lot to his car and was met with the first of what had come to be dreaded weekly gifts.

An ornate royal-purple jewelry box had hidden an entire swarm of wasps that immediately descended upon him, furious at having been subjected to the lack of air. He had been stung exactly seven times before he was able to persuade the pests out of his car. When he was finally able to think straight, he immediately was assaulted with the unmistakable and familiar scent of maple brown sugar and cinnamon lingering in his car and a clear answer of who was responsible.

Louis Tomlinson has been a vicious thorn in his side since they were mere pups.

It irks Harry to no end that the omega seemingly enchants everyone who steps within a mile radius of him. All he has to do is bat those long lashes of his and spread a smile across his infuriatingly gorgeous face and the object of his attention is immediately smitten.

Harry is quite sure he is the only person on Earth to be immune to the omega’s allure, and even he slips up sometimes. Their many rendezvous in the hidden corridors of their university are only proof of the inconsistency.

Now, as he quickly tries to run through all the poisonous plants he knew, he silently curses Louis’ cunning determination. The omega is responsible for cursed gift after gift, and while Harry gets the opportunity to retaliate every other Wednesday, it seems he is still always the one who suffers the most.

After coming up with nothing but poison ivy, he thoroughly examines the petals for any traces of foul play. He’s not naive enough to expect them to be harmless but he is well aware that he can’t leave them with the poor secretary all day so he reluctantly scoops them by their tied stems and presses them cautiously to his chest as he navigates his way to his next class.