No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Sixty-Four

Gran makes plans with connect with Jack's mother as I contemplate this new little adventure. I'm not excited to spend time at Jack's, but I'd be lying if the excitement of London didn't dawn on me.

I take notes on a small yellow pad of paper, promising to call the caterers on Gran's behalf. It takes a few hours, but Gran has most of the details in order given she's done this so many times.

"Hazel, do you mind helping Margaret prepare for dinner," she asks as we near the end of her plans.

"No not at all," I say, placing my pen and paper down. 

"How are you feeling? Shall we get you upstairs for some rest?" Jack asks.

"Yes, perhaps just a lie down for a small while would be nice. You wouldn't mind helping an old woman upstairs would you?"

Jack lets out a small chuckle, "It'd be a delight."

I let them to it and take reprieve in the kitchen with Margaret.

Harry's P.O.V

The car clumsily turns up the drive to the estate, jostling the man and his weak leg. 

"Damned leg," Mr. Williams mutters to himself. He catches himself on his cane, the apple of his weathered cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

"My mother may or may not join us," Mr. Williams winces, changing the subject as he readjusts his coat. "Depends on the day, I'm afraid."

"I hope I'm not imposing tonight," I say.

"Nonsense. Besides, Hazel will likely enjoy the added company." 

He looks back at me. My throat tightens at his thin, knowing smile. 

"She's been pretty cooped up, you see."

I nod, looking away as I shuffle nervously in my seat. I haven't had the nerve yet to ask him about his niece, but I hate living in guilt.

When we exit the car, I flex my hand nervously, trying my hardest to fight the urge to fidget with my hair as I follow the man up the damp stone steps.

"Hazel!" Mr. Williams calls as we shuffle into the opulent foyer. I shudder. Whether it's from the sudden blast of heat from entering the house or the leering portrait of some distant Williams relative, I'm not sure.

"Hazel!" Mr. Williams hollers again. "Sorry, she's usually around here somewhere."

"Coming!" her sweet voice sing out. My chest tightens.

"Sorry, sorry! There was a situation with the oven and the- the- POOF it made!" Hazel's hands gesticulate wildly about her as she hurries down the lavishly decorated hallway. She's an absolute misfit with flour sprinkled across her apron and her frizzy hair jutting out of place. The thought of scooping her up in my arms and running far away from here flashes through my mind.

"Oh-" She stops abruptly. She grins. "Hello there, Harry."

"Hullo," I manage to get out. My heart swells.

"Ahem," Mr. Williams clears his throat. Having completely forgotten my manners, I quickly snatch my hat off of my head.

"I hope it won't be too much of a bother to set an extra plate," he continues, eyeing me. "Harry here will be joining us for dinner. "

"Not at all," Hazel replies, taking Mr. Williams' coat. She holds out her hand towards me, gesturing for me to give her mine as well. A small sick feeling twists inside my stomach. I hand her my coat, unable to shake the unsettling feeling I get from seeing her dote on us like a housemaid.