the school of extraordinary lovers

V

He once made Louis a playlist and left it 'untitled' because if he tried to find a collective way to describe those twenty songs, the outcome would scare them both. He included the classical artists they favoured — Debussy, Nietzche and Schumann — as well as Queen, Stevie Nicks, and Bob Marley.

Oasis's 'Don't Go Away' was on the nose, but he lived in fear of Louis going somewhere he couldn't reach. The Tomlinsons had money and access to a world beyond their hidden town and their patriarch was unpredictable. One day, Lord Tomlinson would disappear Louis like he'd done his mother. (About this, Harry turned out to be somewhat right.)

All of the songs in Harry's opinion spoke to some idealised future he envisioned for himself and Louis. Not necessarily them together, but a future where they were older and safe and happy, even if apart. Where they enjoyed and created music just because, and the sun was always setting, and the winters were always mild.

He thinks the hallmark of any relationship is its soundtrack. As toxic and as tortuous as theirs has been, he and Louis have always had an epic soundtrack. 'Untitled' was as epic as it got.

Currently, the swanky Italian place he's chosen for his date with Heather is playing Nina Simone. He thinks that has to be a good sign, as far as soundtracks go, if he and Heather should have one. Regrettably, it also makes him think of the one time Louis tried 'I Put a Spell on You' on piano.

Harry doesn't recognise the song playing now, but it is thankfully not 'I Put a Spell on You'.

Heather looks around at the occupied tables nearby. "I've never been this far from campus, except if you count the ski trip," she says. "Or home."

"We could still go somewhere closer," Harry offers. "There's a restaurant near Katagiri. Problem is everyone goes there." And since the ski trip, he's had enough of Laitswold students. Especially vampires. Not without mutual effort, he's managed not to see Louis at all.

"I like it here," Heather says. "I don't really get all the fuss, to be honest. About them."

Them, being humans, Harry assumes.

Heather has a sip of her wine. "I get they've done awful things in the past, but our numbers were small. Can't imagine they'd be able to get away with their hunts now."

"There's still more of them than there are of us," Harry says. "But you're right. I don't think we should ever be afraid of anyone."

"Cheers to that," Heather says, and they tap their wine glasses together.

They talk about humans furtively throughout their appetizers. It's hard not to, being so near to them. The similarities no longer surprise Harry, though they give Heather pause. Obviously wolves and demons can shift forms. Vampires have fangs and when they're overcome by bloodlust, their eyes turn black. But when he's crashing parties hosted by King's College students, all the humans around him could easily be from Laitswold. The drinking games are the same. They're just as horny and loud and idiotic. He's not afraid or stumped by humans because he recognises they're all exactly alike, except for the fact that a human male can't manipulate space and time with the sound of his voice or the force of his will.

"Sorry about Thursday," Harry says. "Thought I should say so in person."

"It's fine, really," Heather says. "You can't help if you feel ill."

"Right." Harry generally hates lying, though he's done a lot of it lately. This is more of a half-truth. He did feel ill on Thursday after he stumbled out of the woods. Sometimes if he thinks about it, he still feels ill.

"I heard you and Louis used to be childhood friends," Heather says.

It's an alarming follow-up. He hopes he doesn't look as terrified as he instantly feels. It's not an odd question. It's not. They're all in a class together. He and Louis work closely. (Or did. He hasn't sorted that out yet.) It's a perfectly fine question.