Swan Lake - Larry Stylinson Ballet AU

Act X - Cambré

Hello! I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter. It will include more of Harry's background as well as some of Louis'.

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"It's so cold." Louis said, shivering when a gust of wind caught him. He could hear the grass and wildflowers rustle over the moors. Large puddles had gathered where the earth dipped, brown and cold, and Louis took great joy in jumping in them. The sky over the moors had turned from white to a deep grey, and the clouds passed through at great speed. It was to rain, soon, Louis smelt the water nearing, along with the sounds of the cattle grazing in the endless fields and-when the wind blew in the right direction-he smelt Harry's aftershave.

Louis jumped into another small puddle that was hidden between grass-covered lumps of soil, and he laughed when the water splattered up his bare legs. Harry watched him, unsure. He was unsure of Louis' laughter, if it came from the joy of jumping in puddles or of having wellies and a new coat after years of wearing the same outfits. Those wellies that Louis wore, ladybug red and black, were ones that he'd vowed to never take off except to wear his ballet slippers. When he'd unwrapped the yellow anorak and retrieved it from the bag that Harry had given him, he'd smiled so truly that Harry had wondered if this boy had ever worn a coat before.

Harry smiled then, feeling the cold wind blow his curls in his eyes, and he took off his scarf. When he pulled Louis out of the puddle and wrapped the scarf around his neck, he realised that he no longer minded the cold, for Louis' happiness was the only thing that he needed to feel warmth. The boy looked up at him, confused when Harry tied a knot in the end of the scarf, and his eyes matched it perfectly. "So blue." Harry said, pushing Louis' fringe aside. "The bluest I've ever seen." He then stood back up straight as the first drops of rain began to fall on the moors. "Are you warm?" he asked, "You won't catch a cold, will you?"

Louis shook his head, "This scarf smells like you." He said, and then he pushed it up to his nose to sniff it. Harry took his wrists and lowered his arms, "Please, stop doing that." He laughed.

"But I like your smell. It reminds me of you. Of when you kissed me."

Rain fell on Louis' stripy rain-hat and slid down to drip into the muddy puddle. Harry let it fall in his hair. Cold. "Did you like the kiss that much?" He asked, smiling, still holding Louis' wrists but neither of them realised it. Harry saw the tip of Louis' nose turn pink, and he leaned in, beneath Louis' rain-hat, and buried his face into the scarf to find the boy's cheek. It was warm when he kissed it, pink and squishy. Harry kissed it again.

While he did, the grey clouds burst open, and the rain that had dripped now poured. It felt as if buckets of water were being thrown on them, but neither of them cared. They were alone on the moors where Harry had spent his childhood. During the winter, he'd spent his days at his grandparents' farmhouse, sledging down the fields, building snowmen around the farmhouse, and looking after the lambs in the barn. During the warmer seasons, when the nights were long, he'd go with Grandpa to feed the sheep and the cattle, and to see the tiny white lambs being born. It had been a quiet childhood, the happiest he could have ever wished for, when he'd been out on the moors, and that was where he'd learnt to dance freely. Harry's Grandparents were country folk, and had never enjoyed too much company, and so-exiled from the village that was a twenty minute walk away-they'd built their lives around these fields and the wildlife. Harry had learnt to love animals-he'd fed sheep, watched birds, and fed baby foxes that had been left without a mother. He'd had a whole other life out here, a life of peace, and perhaps that was why he wanted Louis to share it with him.