You Take Me Over, You're the Magic in My Veins

chapter 11

The walk to his chambers feels endless, too much hallway and carpet, too many doors and torches, and small lacquered tables laden with flowers and dangling ivy. Louis feels out of breath by the time he reaches his door, and he's trembling with the need to see Harry, to touch him.

When Louis opens the door, the first thing he sees is Gemma and Zayn huddled by the open window, whispering quietly to each other. It isn't until he scans the room for Harry that he notices.

The chamber walls have been covered in a carpet of vines, heavy with leaves and large purple flowers. Lilies have sprouted out of the cracks between the stones of the floor, faces turned toward the window despite the lack of sun, and long, dripping clusters of wisteria cling to the ceiling rafters. Harry's desk is covered in enormous peonies that fill the room with their sweet scent, and Louis finally spots Harry, crouched down in the far corner of the room with his hands on the floor. Rooted to his spot in the doorway, Louis watches something green sprout from between Harry's hands and climb steadily higher, until the bush is towering over Harry's hunched body. Buds form along the branches and bloom, right before Louis' very eyes.

He has observed Harry's magic before, has watched him coax stubborn shoots from the soil and turn dry, brittle leaves healthy and green again, but never anything like this. The buds open slowly, unfurl until they have transformed into flowers larger than Louis' face, with red and yellow tube-shaped petals and bright yellow centers.

"Harry," Louis whispers, dumbfounded.

The dahlias stop growing and Harry, Zayn, and Gemma all turn to face Louis at once. Silence reigns for one long, suspended moment before everything bursts into noise and movement. Zayn and Gemma stalk toward Louis, hands waving as they shout over each other in noisy discord. Louis can only understand random words - something about pacing and plants and dismemberment, and a healthy dose of Harry's name. Louis just stands there and takes it all in deserving silence.

Their shouting eventually peters out, and Gemma says, quietly but with an undercurrent of steel, "You promised me you would never hurt him, Louis. Tell me you've kept that promise."

Smiling, Louis reaches out to squeeze Gemma's shoulder reassuringly. "You are a wonderful sister, Gemma. Harry is lucky to have you both."

Understanding her need, Louis waits patiently while Gemma watches him for a minute, studying him for signs of bad news. When she finds none, she sighs and nods, steps aside so that he can slip between her and Zayn to get to Harry.

~

Harry watches his sister and his best friend stare Louis down from his corner by the dahlia plant, heart too full to do much else. The longer they keep him, though, the more impatient Harry gets. He appreciates how much they love him and want to protect him, but he wants to speak to Louis, wants to be near him, hear his voice, feel the cadence of his breathing.

When Gemma finally steps aside, Harry lets out an unsteady breath and watches Louis approach, trembling with excitement, anticipation. There is happiness radiating off of Louis, turning his skin golden and bright, as if he's trapped the power of the sun beneath the surface. The flower in Harry strains toward it, toward Louis, and his feet move of their own volition, carrying him across the room so that he can meet Louis halfway.

They crash into each other with enough force to have Harry stumbling back, Louis' arms wrapped tight around his waist and his face buried in Louis' neck so that he can breathe him in. Louis' presence is infinitely calming and Harry can feel his heart rate slow, can feel the anxious buzz of magic in his blood fade. His fingers no longer tingle with the need to create, to distract. Instead, they itch with the need to touch, to feel Louis' skin against his own.