Note To Self (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter Forty Two.

Harry's slight sore throat quickly turned to a severe one, matched with relentless congestion and an unbearable amount of fatigue that left him no choice but to pass out in bed after school on Monday. It had been a long day and his body felt weak, he had no plans to get out of bed for the rest of the day, and that's why he felt rather disappointed when he was awoken at five o'clock by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.

He sharply inhaled, triggering a round of harsh coughing into the pillow. His body jerked with each one, eventually getting pulled to sit up and catch sight of his mother standing at his bedside. She held onto his arm as she awaited his coughing fit to slow, and he caught his breath as he wiped at his runny eyes. Harry immediately laid back down, too tired to even sit.

He felt her hand on his shoulder once again, "I hate to do this to you, but you have to get up. We have dinner with my book club."

Harry grumbled, burying his face into the pillow before he realized he could quite easily suffocate himself that way, since he already struggled to breathe. "Can't I stay home?" he mumbled lazily, the tone in his voice just an octave away from a childish whine.

She shook her head at her son, though he wasn't looking. Her voice was pleasantly soft as she spoke, "No, your father's working and I need someone to come with me."

"Winnie."

She chuckled, "She's a dog, Harry."

"Put some clothes on her, they'll never know the difference. She's a good listener."

She did feel a level of sympathy for him, and that showed only with a slight grin as she patted his shoulder. "You have a half hour to be ready."

Harry couldn't hold in his disappointed sigh. "Okay."

He spent most of the half hour laying in bed, fighting the urge to fall back asleep and thinking about all the times he took being able to breathe though his nose for granted.

Arriving at the Williams' household was somewhat awkward. He was welcomed at the door by Cynthia Williams, Aubry's mother, and stood nearby as his own mother conversed with her briefly. After everything he'd heard her say about Mrs. Williams, it was hard not to think about all the things Cynthia had probably said about her behind closed doors as well.

Harry found his place next to the coat rack, somewhat blending in to the scene so he stood as an outcast as everyone mingled amongst themselves. There was no one his age to talk to. From what he could see, only husbands and wives had shown up and left their kids at home. That made Harry even more uncomfortable, knowing he'd be the youngest around, until Cynthia noticed he hadn't budged since she'd greeted him when he first walked though the door.

She approached him with a smile, red wine in hand. "I think Aubry's upstairs if you'd like to hang out with her."

He was shy, and had found his safe zone in the corner, away from everyone. "No, that's okay," he politely declined. Not because he didn't want to see her, but because he didn't want to be any trouble.

She sensed the timidness from him and gently placed her hand just above his elbow, "C'mon, let's go see what she's up to."

She lead him through the house to the set of stairs that ascended into the second floor, where Harry followed closely behind. The hallway was dark for only a second before the light switch was flicked on, allowing Harry to see as he continued to follow behind the woman. Aubry's room was behind a door at the end of the long hallway, which she opened up to reveal her daughter's bedroom. The lights were also off, but once again, she flicked them on.

There was a short set of stairs of only four steps needing to be climbed to reach where her room resided, and that's where he saw rumpled blankets on top of a massive bed in the corner.