Timeless - A Larry Stylinson FanFiction

Chapter 9

“Thea, dear, are you alright?” Warren’s voice rang through the air, hanging dead around everyone as it followed the scream and loud crashing noise that came from the direction of the kitchen.

“I’ll go check on her,” he said, Harry standing up to go along with his cousin to see what had happened.

Upon entering the small room, Harry and Warren were relieved to see that Thea appeared to be unharmed, but rather upset with the fact that she must have let whatever lay shattered on the floor slip through her delicate little fingers.

“I’m quite alright, love,” Thea answered her husband’s question, taking her hands away from her mouth to reveal a face molded into the perfect expression of shock shining on even features that would normally be overlooked.

“I had so much going on I hardly noticed the milk was on the counter until I swung myself around to get the sugar and..down it went. I am so sorry, Harry, I..I’ll clean it. I’ll fetch my best rags, tell your mother not to worry, it’s my fault I’ll just-”

“For heavens sake, Thea,” Harry said as the woman’s expression changed from shock to nervous anticipation as she awaited to be scolded for being so cumbersome.

“It’s Christmas,” Harry continued. “It will be no trouble at all to clean up, don’t worry yourself over it. In the meantime, be careful of the glass as you clean, I’ll step outside quickly to buy us more milk. After all, what’s such a holiday as this without one of your famous souffles?”

Thea began to smile then, stepping daintily over the broken glass and white puddle of milk shimmering softly on the floor, her pale green dress and sunshine yellow slippers making their way over to embrace Harry and remind him to bundle himself up against the cold winter atmosphere outside of their warm home.

Harry was off before anyone could tell him otherwise.

Thea was right. It was a bit nippy out, but seeing that Harry was wrapped snugly in his most favorite of jackets his father had brought home one evening, the snowflakes that had just begun to fall simply collected on the fabric and did not prove to be too much of a bother.

His feet, clad in his shining new boots were warm in their material, the soft stockings he continued to wear from that morning warming his toes with each step. Simple mittens adorned his hands protecting his long fingers from the cold, and walking the short distance to the market square was not an arduous task for Harry.

“Afternoon, Harold!” Harry heard from somewhere to his left, pivoting on his heels on the snow dusted cobblestones to greet the gentleman who had called out his name. “Ahh, Mr. Wilson! Bit on the colder side now, isn’t it?”

“Good thing Edna was sweet enough to make me such a jolly good scarf or my neck would be frozen! Have a merry Christmas, boy!” Mr. Wilson replied, a small smile spreading across his face, cheeks turned pink from the cold.

“Merry Christmas, sir.”

Mr. Wilson was the town’s finest shoemaker, the Styles family relying on him to supply them with new pairs of shoes every year, and it just now dawned on Harry that he should have thanked him for making the lovely boots he was gifted with.

Mrs. Edna Wilson was an exceptional seamstress, working from her home and selling scarves, hats, mittens, socks and the occasional dress for a very special event, as she was expected to tend to the home as well as their two children, Edward and Lucille. Sweet children, they were, Harry always looked forward to their birthdays as he would present them with the sweetest candies and butter chips he could find.

Those usually handmade by Mr. Brown, the candy man found when you stroll down 22nd street, hook a right, and once you approach the tall green building with the battered old sign reading “Brown’s Sweets & Things” you’re but a mere three feet away from a sugary world of everything you could ever imagine.