A Little More Difficult (Hybrid!Louis, Gifted!Harry, AU Larry Stylinson! *COMP*)

Chapter Nineteen. (19.)

Louis' Point of view.

"Why all of the urgency Harold, calling me over in this hour?"

Sally entered the house as if it was her own, happily kicking off her shoes and placing them messily near the front door. She then took off her jacket rather slow and hung it on the coat rack. Her voice was filled with formatily, and she seemed to have auro of a newly wed teenager getting a call from her mother in the middle of the afternoon. Giddy with underlying excitement and hyped on energy, yet curious and weary, as if bracing herself mentally for an answer. I knew Sally's answer right then and there.

In the speed of a second, I was beside her. I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around so she was facing me. Looking at her face was probably a bad idea, the fact that the though of even her name disgusted me alone, seeing her, touching her, was worse.

I wasted no time.

Closing my hand, I threw punch after punch at her face. Anywhere my hands could reach. Sides, stomach, head, temple, nose. The sound of bones cracking and flesh hitting flesh only fuelled me as my punching power increased with each hit. The sounds of my hands cracking her bones, the thought of it bringing her pain, made a small almost smirk graze my face.

My breathing was heavy as I pushed her hard, so her back hit the wall. I heard with the ears of the predator I was, I heard her head thump against the wall. It made a bouncing motion.

I don't hit women, but in my mind, Sally wasn't a women. Demons weren't born with the parts normal men and women had, they were labelled according to which they were born into. Either the women gene was given to them or the man gene. They were made.

Sally let out a groan, loud and painful. Yet still, she put a wide smile on her face. "Why so angry, Louis?" Her voice was so sarcastic and yet strangely innocent. It made my blood boil even more, like a kettle put on high too long.

That was all it took for me to shift fully. I let out a painfully load roar, it shaking the house, and making her hair blow back.

She let out a groan, then another strained and sarcastic chuckle. "Don't worry about being too loud, I put a magical sound border around the house so no one can hear you and no one can interrupt. How kind of me, 'eh?"

That made me snarl. I jumped on top of her, lets my claws elongated out of my silver coloured coated paws. "How kind," sarcasm dripped along with vemon as I sunk my teeth into her wrist.

I felt her blood ooze down her arm, as a scream of bloody murder ripped from her lips. It was ear piercing, and with that I bit harder, seeping my teeth in and feeling satisfied with the cries of pain coming from her lips. I heard a snap, and a ripping sound as I bit and pulled away. A chunk of flesh flew out of my mouth and onto the carpet a few feet away, her flesh.

A toothy grin slid on my face. I had to get in her mind somehow.

I pushed on the barrier, only for a quick second, growling hard and yet speaking soft in my mind to Harry through the mind link. "Unlock the border of my mind and hers, Harry, now."

I got no reply, or of I did, I couldn't hear it over my snarls and angry barred roars. A few seconds later, I felt a weird pull in my mind. Like two strings being tied and pulled.

I spoke to her without opening my mouth, through my mind. "You crushed my boyfriend's fucking self esteem. You made his life hell. You taught him evil. You lied. You possessed my mother. YOU ARE DISGUSTING. YOU IMPERIAL. That's all you are. The lowest class and most undeserved of all demons. You deserve to be put to dead. And soon, thanks to me, you will be."

Like a rubber band breaking, I felt the connection snap back. I lay my paw on her throat, barely any pressure. The most dangerous growl left my throat, as I felt her windpipe crush below my furred paw. The sounds coming from her throat her horrendous, and for a second, I stopped. Stopped and froze.

She was only trying to help, for 5 years she was there for Harry. For five years she helped him learn his powers, taught him good. But then again, she taught him evil. She tried, in a way, to kill me. She limited Harry.

I couldn't kill her. As much as every fibre in my being wanted to, was aching to.

I looked back down at her. Her eyes were fluttered shut, her breathing slow. I could hear her heart. It was a slow sound, slowing down by the minute. Her eyes were fully shut now, her chest barely falling. The blood that was coming out of her arm was a disturbingly large amount. It was still flowing slowly out, staining the carpet crimson.

I turned my back for a second, just a second And I should have never done that.

Harry's Point of View.

Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis.

I couldn't hear any noise, any noise at all. Sally had put a sound barrier over the house, over everything. Over every room, all the noise separated between every room, spreading around the house, so no one could hear. Even I couldn't. And it was slowly killing me.

Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis.

His smile. How he always managed to make every single thing better with his smile, and his smile alone. How his real one made his eyes crinkle, how his real one was always seen with me. How he was one to always smile in the worse situations. How he can make bad into good.

His laugh, a harmony of wind chimes, and his chuckle, deep and rumbling. It could rumble awake a sleeping giant, so loud. It was so contagious, hearing him laugh once was enough to crack a smile even in the worst of my moods

His eyes, beautiful. They were always changing, depending on his mood. Black, when angry. Light blue when happy. Dark blue when in lust. Every kiss, every intimate moment we had, his eyes would turn dark blue. How when sad, he would close his eyes and gently rub his temples. Everything.

His morning voice. Rough and deep and definitely sexy. So, so sexy. His regular voice. How it was delicate and feminine and yet deep and gravely.

How he was intimidating when angry, but how it was the sexiest thing. How when he was sad, all he wanted was the cuddle and cry. When he was happy, you sure as hell knew it. He basically glowed. When angry, you never knew though. He would bottle it up until BAM, it turned into an angry make out session of frustration and angry sexual tension.

I almost smiled at that thought. Smiled through the tears. I almost chuckled at the next thought too.

I thought of all his quirks and awkwardly annoying tendencies.

How he always would leave the cap on the toothpaste on. How he always had to sleep by the wall, because he claimed it was "cold and comfortable". How he always had to stay in physical touch with me, and I loved that.

Everything. Everything I loved. Everything I was worried about. Everything that made me happy.

Everything that I was risking because of the fact that I was a weak, spineless coward. Everything I love.

Him.

What if I lose that? What if he doesn't come out okay? What if he dies, or... or gets injured? What if, what if, what if. And as tears streamed down my face, I realized that I had all the right in the world to ask myself what if. Because he didn't come out okay.

I know this, because the next thing I heard was a gun shot, loud and piercing, making my ears ring; then, a victorious, and yet weak cough and the sound of a Lion roaring in agony.

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