Tempest || l.s. ✓

Chapter 8

The door almost immediately swung open, the scent of cinnamon and fresh baking wafting out.

"Come in, come in. It's ever so cold out there, isn't it?" She smiled warmly, as the pair stepped inside.

"Absolutely bloody freezing." Louis nodded, "you better have the fire going."

"Of course I do." She chuckled, "now go in there and warm yourself up. And how are you Harry?" She turned to the quiet boy, taking his coat and hanging it up delicately.

"I'm okay." He said softly, "how are you?'

"I'm good thank you love."

"These are for you." Harry held out the flowers after she had ushered him into the living room.

"Oh, they're gorgeous! Thank you." She grinned, "I better go and put these in some water."

Harry sat down on the sofa next to Louis, playing with his hands as he looked around.

Barbara soon joined them again, sitting on the opposite sofa.

"Where did you get that?" Louis motioned to the painting hung above the fireplace, "I've not seen it before. It's lovely."

It was a painting of the cove, a black dog running along the beach.

"Oh," Barbara's face lit up, "that's Harry's. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

A dark blush coated Harry's cheeks as he looked down to his lap.

"That's Harry's? As in Harry sitting next to me Harry?" Louis asked in astonishment.

"Yep."

"You what? Since when have you been such a fucking brilliant artist?" He turned to Harry, though he could feel Barbara's pointed look so quickly added, "I'm very incredibly sorry for my language."

Harry just shrugged, looking up slightly with a shy smile on his face.

"Can't believe nobody thought to tell me that I have fucking Monet living under my roof. Again, I'm very sorry Barbara, it might be best to cover your ears."

"It's not that good." He said timidly.

"It is. It's amazing."

Harry didn't seem entirely convinced but gave a polite smile anyway.

"I'm being serious, you should paint the cats. They're like royalty so they'd love it."

"Maybe. If you want."

"Do you mean Jane's cats?" Barbara raised an eyebrow.

"Come on Barbara, let's be real." Louis threw up his hands. "They're basically my cats. They eat at mine and sleep at mine and spend all day at mine."

She just shook her head fondly, "I'll go and dish up dinner."

Louis turned to Harry expectantly, "so how often do you paint?"

"I've painted everyday since I've been here." Harry spoke, "and sketched."

"May I see some of your art when we get back?"

"If you want." Harry shrugged, "it's not the best though. It's average really."

And usually it annoyed Louis when people said that, because often they knew they were wonderful. But with Harry, Louis could tell that Harry truly believed that his artwork wasn't the best.

"If that," Louis pointed to the painting of the cove, "is anything to go by, your stuff is amazing."

They were interrupted as Bonnie bounced in, wagging her tail furiously as she sniffed at Harry first, then Louis.