A Howl In The Night ✔ » l.s

39

When Harry said he could do something, he could do it.

It was as though he was trying to prove himself to everyone, to prove Benedict wrong. He was going to create this cure with Emily's help, and they were going to save thousands of lives. And nothing—not even Louis' unusual behavior could hinder that.

Okay, maybe Harry did speak to Perrie for a good hour about what was going on and how worried he was for Louis' outbursts, maybe even shedding a few tears. But that was it. It was no hindrance.

Harry was currently sitting on the cabin's wooden floor, surrounded by numerous stems, petals, and leaves of plants. Perrie was right beside him, refusing to leave him even after she'd tended to his sprained ankle. She was a true angel.

Emily was still busy standing over the cauldron, eyes flitting between Harry's journal and their laid-out ingredients and materials on the wooden table. Harry would never say it out loud, but he was nervous. Theoretically, their cure worked. It was backed up by pages and pages of research and sleepless nights, Harry had checked every single plant's component, he'd computed the exact measurements for every single liquid they'd be using, including the beasts' very own venom. He'd not only asked Emily to critic it and give suggestions, but Emily had also asked several other healers to look into it. Although those healers saw it as nothing but theoretical (since the ingredients were definitely near impossible to find), they still validated it and said it might be possible.

Might. Of course there was always a possibility of failure. But Harry wasn't ready for that. He didn't want this to fail. He'd been working on it for months, sacrificing his sleep and time with Louis to work on it. It just had to work.

"You okay there?" Perrie said, poking his side.

Harry shrugged. "Um. I'm fine."

"It's okay to be nervous, you know." Perrie said nonchalantly.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you a mind reader?"

Perrie snorted. "No, genius. I'm a body language reader."

Harry sighed. "Touché."

The door swung open, and then Louis was slowly walking inside, his steps towards them quite hesitant. Harry watched him carefully, but it looked like he'd had enough time to cool down.

Perrie groaned. "Ugh, the boyfriend's back. I'm out."

Harry smiled at her, which she responded to with a sweet kiss on the cheek. As she walked past Louis, though, Harry didn't miss her giving him the stink eye before finally leaving the cabin.

Louis was soon seated where Perrie was sitting with a reluctant smile on his face. Harry busied himself with the leaves.

"She's quite scary," Louis muttered, "but at least she's a good friend to you."

Harry began grouping the leaves together, slipping them into jars. "Yup."

He nearly dropped the jar when Louis gently grabbed his wrist, pulling the sweater's sleeve upward to reveal a forming bruise in the shape of Louis' fingers from earier. Louis retracted his hand from him, rubbing his face.

"I'm really really sorry. This is like the second time this has happened. I honestly have no excuse for my behavior, but I fucking swear I didn't mean to hurt you." Louis said quietly.

Harry tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "I'll understand you more if you tell me what's going on. I know you're not telling me something."

Louis pressed his lips together. After a second too long, he said, "There's—nothing."