Amaryllis

8

Harry wakes up warm, with a weight on his chest.

Once he blinks sleep out of his eyes, he almost doesn't recognise the miserable, small room he'd been locked into last night. The walls are flooded with sunlight, bright and orange, welcoming the new day. It glints off the damp stone and makes spots dance in front of Harry's eyes.

First, he thinks that maybe he'd done something to himself, punctured a lung that hasn't quite healed, and that's why it's so hard to breathe. He turns his head around slowly.

Sprawled across his chest, paws haphazardly thrown on either side of Harry's body, is a familiar wolf. Harry remembers from last night, and he remembers from a week ago, blue eyes saying goodbye as Liam drove them into traffic.

He doesn't know how, but Louis still looks like himself, even as a canine. His fur is a beautiful light grey, a colour Harry's never really seen, face wide and wise and just a bit mischievous. Harry takes one of his enormous paws in his hand. It's the size of a dessert plate, fur silky soft, long legs caging him in in a way that doesn't make it feel like he's trapped at all. Louis's tail flutters every time he breathes out, a warm, smelly breath that fans across Harry's chest to bathe him in warmth. Harry hasn't even remembered everything from last night yet, but it still makes his heart clench pleasantly, that Louis is here keeping him warm. The phantom touch of his teeth burns on the back of Harry's neck.

He's chasing memories of blue eyes turned on him, soft and reassuring, a fleeting feeling of a touch of hands, when he feels the wolf stir. Harry looks down, following a long, elegant snout to its wide face. He smiles.

Louis wakes up slowly, adorably, looking every bit like a puppy. He snuffles, sneezes, bring up a paw to rub his face against, before he finally looks around. His eyes, even when they're not glowing, are blue, pale and otherworldly in the morning sun.

"Hello," Harry says, and it occurs to him that, had Louis been in human form, the position they've woken up in would have been significantly more awkward; especially as Harry realises, just then, that he’s naked. The thought doesn't peeve him out as much as it should - one could even theoretically say it doesn't peeve him out at all, quite the opposite.

Louis yawns, blowing morning wolf breath right in Harry's face, and if he could, he'd probably raise an unimpressed eyebrow. Then, he shimmies up Harry's body like a big, furry blanket, creating some mildly awkward friction, and licks his nose. His ears perk up, eyes alight with mischief and Harry likes him so much, like this. Although. That might be a bit of a weird thought, seeing as Louis currently weighs a good two hundred pounds and dons a full-body fur.

"Um. I'm naked," Harry says, uselessly. Louis happily barks in his face. "Alright. Are we just lying here, then?"

Louis barks again, setting his head down on Harry's collarbone. It's heavy, thick animal skull and all, but Harry doesn't even think about complaining. It's peaceful, really, waking up with Louis's wolfy body half on top of him. For once, nothing hurts, and nothing inside him feels like it's trying to pull him apart.

"Hey, Louis?" he breaks the silence. Louis huffs in acknowledgement. "I, er. Thank you." It comes out less sure than he means it to, but Louis apparently doesn't care when he's a wolf; he stretches his neck and rubs the side of his face against Harry's cheek. It chafes a little, but it's so soft, so affectionate, makes Harry feel so good. He considers turning back into a wolf, grabbing Louis by the ear and making him run away together just so he could get mornings like this.

He's lost in his thoughts for a while, trying to make out every detail of how wolf Louis put wolf him on his back and weighed him down with heavy paws on his chest. He'd felt so free then, all parts of him, with nothing to hold at bay, nothing to cause him pain.