Polite//l.s

Prolouge

(A/N: this chapter is supposed to be boring lol. It's the exposition and it's kinda important but..... It's boring for a reason)

"Please pay attention," my grouchy calculus tutor scoffed at my dazing.

I wanted to smart off.

"Sorry Ms. Dilla," I let the French roll off my tongue politely. Talking back was looked down upon in the household.

"The lessons over now, but you'd better start actually learning during our sessions or my reports to your father will start reflecting negatively." She bit back, packing her things in her expensive messenger bag.

The only reason you're here is me you hag.

She angrily left, her leather heels clicking obnoxiously on her way to the door.

I sighed as she left, knowing my father would probably yell at me later, going on about how disappointed he is in me for dazing off.

It might be a tad more interesting if I went to an actual school instead of snobby tutors coming over every day for homeschooling.

Rolling my eyes, I collected the overly branded school supplies. Seriously, why does my pencil need to have Italian written on it?

As expected; moments later my father came upstairs, an upset expression evident on his face.

"Harry," he began, motioning for me to sit at the engraved desk my parents had gotten me for my seventeenth birthday, "you have so many advantages, why can't you just use them?"

I wanted to roll my eyes, to tell him he's pushing me too far.

"Sorry father," I mumbled respectively, nodding my head and making sure to hold eye contact.

"Just try more? Your GPA is going to drop and not even the donations we make to the university will get you in," he snapped, exiting before I could apologize again.

I breathed deeply as he left. The maid would be up in an hour, warning me that I needed to be ready for the dinner we would be attending tonight. It was always my father, showing off his trophy family to his employees to make them feel lesser. I was supposed to stand there beside my sister and mother and smile and make people feel incompetent.

Not that it was boring, it just was tiring. The same thing every weekend, every Saturday night; dressing up only to have people gush over the new suit, or to baby me in hopes it will impress my father.

I was over it. I sighed, laying my body across the woven fabric of my duvet; knowing that I would have to shower soon.

I would shower, my suit for the night would be handed to me, hands would comb through my hair, and I would be sent off to the car with a pat on the shoulder. Same thing, every time.

"Smile boy!" I could practically hear the chipper voice of my mother, "there's a lot of people to impress here tonight!" Her words held many incongruences. I never saw anyone in particular that I thought needed extra attention. Besides my father, he always required the best.

The only person I ever had to impress was my father. My hair has to be placed perfectly, my socks had to match, my hands had to be placed respectively behind my back. Any thing else and he wouldn't approve. Any thing less than perfection he would be disappointed.

"Mr. Styles," Audrey, the main house maid knocked on my door politely, "May I come in?"

"Of course," I stood to let her in. The house maids were not allowed to enter the bedrooms on their own.

Opening the door, I revealed the short blonde, holding a garment bag; her small hands trembled slightly on the hanger as I greeted her.

"Hello Audrey," I spoke, motioning politely for her to give me the bag.

"Hello," she gave me the white plastic, continuing speaking as I peeled the zipper away a few inches to see what I had for tonight, "Your father wants you downstairs within the hour," she nodded as I dismissed her, I mumbled a thank you as she walked away.

An hour. I set the bag down on my bed, laying it out flat so the expensive material wouldn't crease.

After grabbing a few towels, I headed to the attached bathroom in my room.

Turning on the water, I waited patiently for it to heat up; tapping my foot and appreciating the alone time.

There is always a chance that I will get interrupted, that someone will knock on my door. When someone knocks, I have to answer. It's the polite thing to do.

I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to tell them to go away.

But that wasn't polite. That wasn't acceptable.

I sighed again, stepping under the warm stream of water; preparing myself physically and emotionally for the night ahead.

Tonight, I could be any number of places. We were going to a benefit set up by my father.

I could be by the donations bin. I could be by the door, greeting the guests. I could stand next to my father as he speaks with important clients. Or maybe, by some slim chance, my father would tell me he doesn't need me for the night; he might tell me that I could wander the party, only there to be seen- not to interact.

There are very few occasions when I get this opportunity, I don't think I will be given the pleasure tonight.

I stepped out from under the spray after I had cleaned myself properly, drying off and waiting for the professionals to come do my hair. If I had my way, I would comb through it once and be done; but father insisted that I looked professional, presentable.

Soon, the friendly hairdresser came into my room where I was already sat at the vanity set against the wall farthest from my bed, her bag of supplies in hand.

Small talk was made as she worked through my hair, brushing pieces into place, spraying them so they'll stay there.

I waited for a dip in the conversation to put my headphones in. Wouldn't want to interrupt her talking, that wouldn't be polite.

(A/N: new idea? Idk. It's always going to be in Harry's POV unless it says other wise- which next chapter will be in Louis' POV.... Soooooo yeah. Tell me what u think? I'm not sure about this yet)