Timeless - A Larry Stylinson FanFiction

Chapter 7

Christmas in the Styles home was filled with nothing but love and joy and good cheer and nearly everything a holiday should be.

The warmth the family shared that holiday was so great, it warmed the toes of each person in the grand home, the chandeliers suspended from the high ceilings casting an angelic glow on the evergreen holiday tree set in the far corner of the parlor. Gifts wrapped delicately in worn newspapers, the edges folded neatly over one another and sealed with the intention of giving happiness to those who mattered most, were propped neatly up underneath the tree, dangling ornaments gently caressing the tops of red pleated bows adorning the tallest presents as they nestled themselves in the trees branches.

Harry came down the creaky old steps two by two that morning, only slipping once on his stocking feet.

The scene was perfect, framed by the constant flurry of white seen out the parlor window. It was the epitome of Christmas, everyone dressed in thick overcoats and colors as deep as the snow-painted forests.There they sat, around the tree, sharing laughter and passing a fresh, bubbly bottle of the best champagne Harry’s father could afford.

As Gemma’s head turned to Harry’s gangly frame on the staircase, the rest of his family followed.

“The boy’s up,” Warren said, deep voice booming with confidence and traced in three glasses of champagne.

Calls of “Merry Christmas” rang through the parlor and to Harry, who’s long awkward fingers, matching the rest of his body, traced over the swallow pin he had so delicately pinned to his lapel before leaving his room that morning.

He had imagined what he was going to wear the night previous. His favorite dark trousers; the ones that were actually proper length for his long legs and width of his skinny hips and didn’t itch like the rest. Along with a clean shirt, and dark brown vest to match his pants with the golden buttons like his dad’s. Throwing on his best jacket after, Harry imagined himself puncturing the lapel ever so gently with the end of the pin, slipping it through and fastening it, looking in the mirror proudly. When he awoke that morning, that’s exactly what he did. And he thought he looked dashing, for all that mattered.

“Oh my son,” Harry’s mother cooed, crossing the open room to where he stood at the base of the steps, his feet warmed by the red and white knitted stockings shuffling ever so gently against each other as he smiled lovingly back at her.

She wore a dress of a deep purple, a color that fit her personality, making a statement while still being classy enough to pass as traditional holiday attire. She looked beautiful as always, and Harry was reminded again just how lucky he was to have such a wonderful, caring mother in his life as he was encompassed by her warm embrace.

“Good morning, Mum,” he said, while still smiling brightly, looking over her shoulder at the welcoming grins of the rest of his family seated comfortably around the Christmas tree. “Good morning to you all.”

A few moments of silence passed as the Styles family passed holiday cheer as simply as exchanging wide grins of excitement, the pending session of gift giving looming in the near future inflicting great anticipation on everyone seated in the parlor.

“Well don’t just stand there, Harry!” Warren called over to the boy, whose face flushed a red color that could challenge the hue of the holly berries wound tightly around the railing of the stairs. “Why don’t you open the first present?”

A small grin crept upon Harry’s lips. He really wasn’t a greedy boy, but the thoughts of presents neatly wrapped up waiting for him made his heart flutter.

“Alright,” he said with a certain eagerness only Christmas could bring.

He shuffled across the room in his warmly knit stocking feet and quickly knelt in front of the big, fresh-smelling, tree, sparkling with homemade decorations and beautiful blown glass ornaments his mum’s friend had gifted them with last year which gave their fresh evergreen a more poised and expensive look.

Warren handed Harry a box wrapped in overlapping newspaper, a golden bow tied around it to not only secure the paper but give it that extra twinkle of Christmas magic.

“Thank you,” Harry said in a sort of distant voice, giving the box an eager shake, hearing a soft rumble inside.

He let his long fingers fiddle with the bow for a moment before letting the gold ribbon fly to the floor. The present was officially ready to be unwrapped.

Tear by tear, Harry broke each fold as he greatly anticipated the reveal of whatever it was waiting inside.

His family sat around him, mainly focusing on Harry, sitting on his knees, fumbling with the sealed box.

Once the top had been nearly torn off, Harry removed a layer of protective newspaper wrapping to find a pair of chestnut brown leather boots.

His eyes swelled with excitement, delicately lifting the boots up out of the newspaper bed they had laid in. He was nearly speechless, turning to sit now, pulling the boots quickly onto his feet and standing up to admire them.

“Wow,” he breathed. “These... these are the ones I wanted. How’d you know?” he smiled, looking up to Warren with starry eyes.

“Take a guess,” Warren said with a proud half-smile, glancing to his wife sitting beside him. Thea smiling adorningly, giving her husband a small shrug.

“He couldn’t take his eyes off ‘em when we we last went into town,” she smiled. “His old ones had gotten a bit raggedy so I told Anne. Merry Christmas, Harry,”

“Merry Christmas, Thea,” Harry smiled, hugging her, then shaking Warren’s hand. “Merry Christmas Warren,” he said softly.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” Warren said with a chuckle, giving Harry a firm handshake in return, a feeling of strength and confidence he got from his older cousin, one of the reasons he idolized him so.

Taking another glance at the boots on his feet, the proud, new look they held nearly making them shine under the natural lighting, Harry couldn’t help but grin, taking a seat next to his sister, joining in on the holiday chatter.