Endlessly // h.s.

VIII

Evie's checkup had gone relatively smoothly. It was nothing too intense, just Niall listening to her heart and breathing rates on his stethoscope and asking her how her head felt (it was fine, just a little sore).

Harry's eyes didn't leave her throughout the whole process, and even now that Niall had left the room after giving Evie the instructions to stay on bedrest for a day or two, his creepy stare hadn't ceased. It was almost like he was in a daze, thinking really deeply about something. Evie was more or less incredibly disturbed.

"Where's my mother?" Evie asked, snapping Harry out of it.

Harry cleared his throat and moved to go sit down in a chair that was only five feet or so away from the bed where Evie lay. He settled himself down before speaking.

"She's still living in that shitty shack you called a house back in California, as far as I know. But, really, she could be anywhere. She wasn't really my main priority when I went to get you," he smirked.

"If she's in California then where are we?" Evie's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Why, we're in England, my love." Harry gestured widely around the room as if he were showing her the entire country.

Evie'd never been to England before, but she'd always wanted to visit someday. It sucked that it was this evil man that had taken her here, but it made sense that this was where they'd be seeing as how his accent was British. And how had he gotten her here in the first place? Niall had mentioned something about a flight but Evie wasn't sure...

"How did you get me from California to England without getting arrested? Usually TSA is pretty good about catching kidnappers," Evie emphasized that last word, hoping to get under Harry's skin.

Harry ignored the insult. "I didn't take you on a plane, little one." Harry said the word plane like it was a disgusting thing that was beneath him. "I flew you here myself, which, in hindsight, was not my best decision."

"You flew me here yourself?" Evie said the words slowly, trying to understand what he was saying. "What does that even mean?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That's where what I have to tell you comes in." He stood and shed his coat quickly. Evie didn't like where this was going.

"Whoa, dude, what do you think you're doing?" She backed herself up on the bed, trying to create distance between them.

"Don't call me 'dude,' Genevieve. I'm not just some 'dude,' I'm your dimidium," Harry scolded her. And before she could say anything, he stretched out his back a little and said "Now, I guess I'll get this over with quickly, like ripping a bandage off, yeah?" he grinned slyly.

And all of a sudden, wings materialized out of his back and through his shirt. They were huge, with shiny black feathers that were preened to perfection.

Evie was in awe. Harry looked so magnificent and majestic, standing there with his wings out to either side of him, but wait Harry had wings?!

"What the fuck?" Evie's voice came out as a small squeak as she blinked up at Harry.

Harry didn't move or say anything, he just stared down at her and gauged her reaction.

"This isn't real. I'm dreaming, right? Tell me this is a dream," Evie pleaded with Harry, who just smirked at her.

"Not a dream, little one." He moved closer to Evie and she stared up at him with wide eyes. "You can touch them, if you'd like." He was standing right by her at that point, close enough that Evie could just reach out to feel the wings.

And she did. Her hand moved hesitantly and slowly, but once her fingers met the dark black feathers, she was surprised at how soft they were. But she could tell they were durable at the same time.