The Glass Chelsea Boot (A Cinderella Story)

t h r e e

Hey guys!

I dunno how to feel about this story just yet but I think it'll be getting more interesting soon, idk. Hope you guys enjoy, don't forget to comment and vote!

Love you all!

———

The market was bustling with people and Harry had to push his way through the crowds to get to the stands he needed.

"Hey Roman." Harry grinned when he reached his stall.

"Morning Harry!" The man was chirpy as ever, clearly he had been doing quite the trade today, no doubt because of the ball that so many people in the small town had miraculously been invited to.

"Can I get 10 yards of the Duchess satin, um yes that blue one and another 10 of the same but in pink. Thanks so much mate."

"Evil stepsisters get their invites to the ball?" Roman grinned as he printed a receipt.

Harry held in his laughter and pushed Roman lightly on the shoulder.

"Come off it, they aren't that bad."

"Yeah... sure. So what're you wearing?" He asked and Harry was confused. He could almost always tell when Roman was having a laugh, poking fun at him, but he seemed serious.

"I don't... understand?" 

"You know... to the ball? Even I'm going, wouldn't pass up something like this." 

"But you can't."

"What do you mean I can't? Got my invitation didn't I." He pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and passed it over the table to Harry. 

"Fancy as hell innit?" He smirked while Harry quickly scanned the swirly writing.

And Roman was right. If this was right then Simon was lying to him.

"Yeah... yeah it is pretty fancy. Hopefully I'll... see you there." Harry was still in a state of shock as he walked away from the stall and back through the crowds. 

When he returned home the house was a wreck!

Gowns and shoes and shawls were strewn all through the common area of the house, Eleanor was strutting about, texting and laughing loudly, Kendall was picking through the mass amounts of clothing on her bedroom floor and Simon was yelling at people on the phone.

Harry quietly made his way through the explosion of clothes and into his stepfather's office, the man glared at him as he showed him the fabrics before being dismissed.

On his way out the door when Simon turned in his chair to continue his conversation Harry quickly slipped the royal letter out from under the paperweight near his door and ran from the room.

He went quickly up the stairs and into the sewing room, thankful for the sudden quiet the locked room provided.

He began to read.

———

Dear members of this household,

We are pleased to announce that this Friday, Prince Louis Tomlinson of Doncaster will be hosting a Royal Ball as he continues his search for a fiancé.

All eligible in Britain are invited to attend for a night of dancing and fun with our fair Prince.

The ball will commence at 9pm and conclude at 1am, we will hope to see you there.

Sincerely,

Sr Paul Higgins

Tomlinson Royal Advisor 

———

Oh shit. Holy shit. He's been (technically) invited to a Royal ball! 

He was so excited he could cry! But- you know. In a cool way.

Deciding not to dwell on that for too long he began making the dresses, it was a nightmare. Two full ball gowns in 1 week? Harry had lost count of the number of times he pricked himself with one of those needles.

It was so time consuming that Simon had even put his other chores on hold for the week. At first Harry was thrilled but then of course was promptly reminded that he would be doing them on the day that they were away in Doncaster. 

Eleanor and Kendall were hell to have in the sewing room, snide comments being thrown his way, having to hear them gloat about how lovely the ball was going to be. Harry didn't have any doubt that it would be just that. Lovely.

One thing that continued to plague his mind for the week was how on earth he was going to go?

Simon had made it quite clear he was not to attend but Harry so desperately wanted to he would do whatever it takes.

But as the girls packed their brand new dresses away, already pressed and ready for the ball that night, he suddenly lost the final pieces of hope that he had been holding onto for the last few days.

He waved rather sadly as their car pulled out of the drive and turned a corner, only going back inside when he could no longer see it on the road.

The house was disturbing quiet when he wandered back inside, dark too. It was horribly messy and unkept, Simon and the girls made no effort whatsoever to tidy so Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat and began to clean. 

He folded and hung the clothes back in the wardrobe, did all of the dishes waiting in the sink, tidied his step-relatives' bedrooms, changed the sheets and put a load of washing on, he swept and mopped all of the hard wood floors and vacuumed the carpeted ones, he dusted, polished, cleaned all 4 bathrooms, watered the plants outside, fed the animals and chopped the fire wood when he finally managed to sit down again.

He was exhausted.

It was only when he gave himself that moment to rest that he broke down.

He cried and cried and not in a cool way.

When he finally stopped his eyes were red and puffy and his nose was running.

Sniffling and pitying himself, he sat at the kitchen table as he watched the sun beginning to set. Just an hours drive away in Doncaster everyone would be getting ready for the ball and he wished he could go.

"Vas happenin babe?"

Harry stood up very suddenly, still slightly distraught. His chair fell back and hit the floor rather loudly in his surprise.

"What?" Harry turned to see a rather attractive, sparkly man standing in his doorway.

"Who are you?!" Harry cried out.

"Well I'm your FairyGod-Zayn of course! Now what's wrong Harreh, you look sad."