Interlude [h.s]

seventy-seven

The next couple of days go by without much happening. Each morning, Alouette wakes up and discovers Harry is already awake. Amina comes visit them once more, and this time no more dangerous topics are touched.

Tonight, when Alouette wakes up, Harry has already hidden inside the bathroom. The shower is running, and a quick glance at the clock tells her it's four in the morning. As usual, she brings Harry a change of clothes and then curls up on her side of the bed, waiting for him to come back. They never talk about whatever it is that wakes him up every single night, but still she can't keep herself from waiting for him, again and again, each night.

Half an hour passes, and then Harry sits on his side of the bed. She opens her eyes and looks at his back in the faint light coming from under the door. After a long moment of hesitation, she shifts closer to him and wraps her arms around his middle, leaning her head on his back. He immediately tenses up, but she doesn't let him go. Silently, she waits to see if he'll push her away.

He doesn't. "What are you doing, Lark?" he asks, his voice faint, with only a hint of sarcasm in it to keep any real feelings from showing through. "In your father's organisation, nonetheless."

That takes her by surprise. Her father's organisation. Panic spreads through her, but then she remembers Jesse calling her by her last name in the corridor once. Fear runs through her, but she forces herself not to let go of him. "You... you heard."

"How couldn't I have?" Harry says. His voice is low, but he doesn't seem to be mad. He looks at her over his shoulder, and she moves away to let him turn. "Alouette Ivenhart," he sounds out loud, seeming to be tasting every syllable of her name, "how honoured I am to meet you."

Guilt spreads through her. "Harry, I..."

"You clever little thing," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I'm impressed. That was quite the feat you pulled."

Alouette is suddenly aware that it's been days since he found out, and that he's only bringing it up now to avoid talking about more sensitive topics, but warmth spreads through her cheeks. She's relieved. She's feared he would hate her if he found out who she is for so long, but now that it has happened, she finally sees it in a different light. It's only a name. An interesting one, for sure, one that might come with some expectations, but nothing more. It doesn't make her royalty, it doesn't make her a leader. It only makes her an Ivenhart. Now that he knows, too, she finds something so peculiar in their closeness. Ivenhart and Styles. In a way, they're nearly natural enemies. But she doesn't feel like Harry's enemy anymore, and especially not tonight. She hasn't felt like his enemy for a long time.

She pulls him into a hug. She can hear the way his breath hitches when she wraps her arms around him and pulls him into her. She hides her face in the crook of his neck, and she's never shown him affection so explicitly before. From the way Harry tenses up, there's no doubt he's thinking the same thing. But she doesn't let him go. If he doesn't want her words, she hopes that at least she will be of some reassurance to him.

She lies down and takes him down with her, without letting go.

The next time she opens her eyes it's nearly midday, and Harry is sleeping in her arms.

For a moment, she doesn't know how to act. After some hesitation, she passes her fingers through his dark curls. He wakes up with a jolt and sits up fast. It isn't the first time he jumps when she touches him in his sleep. He looks around the room, seeming to be a little uneasy until he remembers where he is and who he's with.

"Morning," Alouette comments, rolling away and sitting up as well. "I think we overslept."

A knock proves her just how right she is. She opens the door; it's Anthony with their breakfast on a tray. "You have two hours," he tells her, and she's suddenly reminded of what day it is today.