larry- one shots

veni, vidi, amavi

For a long time Harry didn't know where he was. He'd been lost... drifting. And then one day, suddenly, there was light. He'd opened his eyes and he was home.

Unfortunately, it seemed his home wasn't his own anymore. Other people, strangers, stomped from room to room, trampling over his memories and changing things. And for a while, he could do nothing about it. He was but a wisp, intangible to those around him.

Harry watched with sadness felt all the way down to the bones he no longer possessed as stranger after stranger arrived and changed everything he'd loved about this place he used to call his. He watched... and waited. He had no idea why, but he knew that's what this was. He was waiting for something. He just didn't know what yet.

Harry hadn't remembered much about his life but, as the years passed by, he'd remember bits and pieces. At first, it was just the house. A place he'd helped build with his own hands. It was for someone, the house. It had been a gift. A wedding present? Maybe not. He still couldn't grasp that part, it always felt just out of reach when he'd tried.

Years passed, a full century spread out behind him, and Harry got used to being mostly alone. He'd found that he could move things if he really concentrated. So he got really good at that, using the skill to move things back to the way he liked them when someone would show up and change things around. He hadn't minded the last family to live in his house. It had been small, a lovely couple and their child, and it hadn't felt like they were intruding on Harry's space or time. They'd left Harry's things where they were and only added their own to the collection. Harry was content with the arrangement. Not happy exactly, but close enough. They've left him now though and he's on his own again. All alone and waiting, once more.

*

At the sound of a car door slamming outside, Harry immediately moves to the banister on the second floor to watch the front door and see who the estate agent has brought this time. It's been awhile since there was a prospective buyer for the house and Harry feels a bit like an excited child, waiting to receive a gift. He sits at the top of the stairs and waits, giddy with excitement. Soon enough, the estate agent is unlocking the front door and gesturing for her potential buyer to enter first.

Harry's first thought is that the man who walks through the doorway is stunning. He has wispy hair that sticks out in every direction, giving him a sexy windblown look. Stubble on his cheeks that makes him look rugged and manly. His lips are thin and set in a frown and his eyes are wary as they look around the room but Harry still can't be sure he's ever seen anyone that can give him quite as many butterflies as this man does. There's something calming about him too, almost... familiar. With this man, the feeling Harry has had for so long, that sense of anticipation, of waiting, seems to dissipate to almost nothing.

Harry is relieved. He's grown sick of waiting.

The man sighs, looking around as the estate agent practically begs him to take the house off of her hands.

"It's a bit big, innit? For just one person," the man asks.

At the sound of his voice, memories come rushing back to Harry. Dark nights spent in candlelight, wrapped around the naked body of his lover. Soft, lazy mornings when a kiss was all the 'hello' they needed. This man feels familiar because he is. Harry knows him. He's too young for it to be real, he looks exactly the same as he did all those years ago, like he hasn't aged a day, but it has to be true.

"Louis?" He whispers to himself as a translucent tear trails down his cheek. "Is that you?"

*