You saved me from myself

Chapter Seventeen

Hello lovely people and early Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate, I finished school today but have an exam coming first day next semester so I may or may not upload a little more during the holidays to procrastinate, but don't hold that to me. (but I might)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far, I am really excited about how it's turning out:)

***

"Hey, Lou." Harry's face shone up as the small boy walked through the entrance to the common room the next morning, although watching the boy apprehensively. The common room was empty, the rest of the home wouldn't stir awake for another hour or so. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling... Okay." Louis gave him a small smile, the red Santa hat clutched tightly in his hands. "I think yesterday helped, a lot."

"I'm glad," Harry stood up from where he had been folding napkins for that day's Christmas eve dinner, and walked over to him, putting a hand gently to his cheek and tucking some stray hairs behind his ear. "I was afraid it'd be too much for you—Which would be fine too, it's just I—"

"Hazza," Louis interrupted, grasping the taller man by the shoulders. "Please calm down, I'm okay, and that's all thanks to you. All of you." He rose to the tips of his toes, placing a soft kiss on the man's cheek. "I promise you."

Harry gave a shaky nod. "I just want you to feel happy, genuinely. And for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, or Marcel, or Edward."

"I know." Louis' hand slid down Harry's arm, tracing the curve of his bicep before circling his hand and tangling their fingers together. "Thank you."

"Want to sit down for some tea?" Harry asked." It's still early."

"Don't you have to fold napkins?" Louis glanced over Harry's shoulder where the large pile lay abandoned.

"Yes," Harry said, tugging Louis towards the dining room. "But I'd much rather sit and talk to you."

Louis laughed, shoving him in the side playfully. "You are the world's biggest sap, you know that."

"Your sap, my darling." Harry winked, putting on the kettle and sifting through the box of teabags. "Are we feeling earl grey, or maybe an English breakfast?"

"Do you have more Yorkshire?" Louis asked, jumping up to sit on the nearest table, dangling his wool socked feet.

"You mean the tea that you are absolutely gulping down by the litre every day? I'm afraid we're out, or we are officially however."

"What do you mean, officially?" Louis quirked a brow.

Harry looked back at him with a mischevious smile dancing on his lips. "Don't tell Marce, he will slaughter me."

And with that he bent down and unlocked the cabinet with one of the keys hanging from his belt, opening it and taking out a brand-new box of Yorkshire tea. "Marcel keeps his secret stash here. He's become a fan ever since you asked if we could buy it."

"But... Won't he notice that someone's opened the box?" Louis asked.

"Eh," Harry shrugged. "I'll just blame Edward."

***

"So," Harry said when they sat back down in the sofa in the common room. "I have some good news, and some potentially bad news."

"What do you mean, potentially bad?" Louis asked. "What does that mean?"
"Which ones do you want to hear first?" Harry asked, ignoring him.

"The good news," Louis said. "I want the good first."