Nothing's Fair In Love And War | Zarry

Part Twelve

Harry didn't want to go back to the library, nor seeing anyone in the coven. He went back to his room immediately, slamming his door and cringing at the corner. He wrapped his hands around his shoulders, staring at his knees as he rethought about his anger toward Taylor. In fact, he didn't even know why he was angry. He couldn't come up with a reason to convince Taylor – nor himself – that Zayn was an inappropriate choice. And Harry wasn't even expecting himself to succeed Taylor's position. His acrimony was childish and impertinent.

He stood up, trying to get some water to cool himself down, but the small flower on his desk made him withdraw his hand. The half blue rose was still blossoming delicately under the dim lights, as if it wasn't aware that its life should had withered a couple weeks ago. Harry took a deep breath, looking away before he could fill himself with one more pessimistic thought.

"Yo, crybaby seems pretty depressed today?"

Harry nearly tripped himself when he heard the voice behind him. He turned around, pressing the small mirror on his desk down. Louis' muffled voice came underneath. "Why must you and Zayn be so mean to me? I haven't even said something!"

Louis continued to complain. Harry ignored him; he didn't need to summon a devil himself to learn the consequence of talking to one. Harry threw a piece of cloth onto the mirror to cover Louis' noise, but just when he turned around, Louis was in the floor mirror in front of me.

"C'mon, I'm so bored. Zayn has become an expert in running away from mirrors. How about we sit down and have a talk?" Louis giggled, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "You look really down today, crybaby. Wait, actually it's been a while. Am I gonna pretend I wasn't watching you all these days? Probably not. What makes you become a little grumpy cat?"

"Don't you have anywhere else to go?" Harry couldn't help but retorted. Louis laughed and slit his eyes. "Well I'm trapped in this mirror so I don't really have many choices. But what about you? Are you trapped in this small, cramped room as well?"

"It's raining outside."

Louis laughed again, "Really, that's the best excuse you can think of?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Harry raised his voice, irritated. Louis wriggled his eyebrow and smiled, "Your soul, darling, of course."

"And you really think I will give it to you, as if you're just borrowing a penny?"

"Oh no, dear, your soul is much more valuable than that." Louis pulled his face closer. Harry knew Louis couldn't pass the glass, but he still stepped backward subconsciously. "Magic is a fair trade. Yes, crybaby, even dark magic is the same. Do you know how many things you can buy with that fragile soul inside your body?"

"I won't make any deal with you."

"Or will you?" Louis whispered softly, "You've always wanted to be powerful, am I wrong? Your grandma and your mother, they are such outstanding witches. Your sister was born a genius of witchcraft. And you? Not so impressive. Yeah right, your fortune-telling skill might as well show up sometimes. But you know that – it is never helpful, is it?"

Harry stuttered, couldn't find a word to reply. "I –"

"Taylor, is that her name? Hmm, she hasn't been really nice to you, I guess? She's your one and only friend here...or, perhaps the feeling isn't mutual?" Louis kept asking, grinning deeper and deeper, "But the kids like you, don't they? That's quite comforting. But honey, does that really make you feel better? In a few years, every single one of them is going to be a better witch than you... Oh no, I rephrase. They already are."

"What do you want exactly?" Harry asked again, voice dried out. "Why do you want my soul so badly?"

"Well, what's the point to keep something that you don't even know the value?" Louis tilted his head, pretending to be confused by Harry's question, "Tell me anything good you've been doing with it, maybe I will change my mind? Let me think, planting those herbs that you can't even remember the names? Feeding your cat twice a day? Cleaning the dust on your shelf because those books won't teach you any trick? Wearing black shirts and your tacky boots to make you feel like a real witch? What else, crybaby? What's some nice thing I can find on your daily to-do list?"

Harry gasped, pushing the mirror off and broke it into pieces. But Louis' words still came through the fragments on the floor. "Seven years of bad luck, sweetie! As if you don't have enough." His voice echoed in the room, "What do you even expect to do? Running from the reality? Like what you did for the past twenty years?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"I can help you, and it doesn't have to hurt anybody. It's so simple and easy..." Louis' voice was so close, as if he was mumbling right next to Harry's ears, "As I mentioned before, it will be a fair trade. You don't need to worry about anything."

"Just shut up." Harry gasped exhaustedly. He should've listened to Zayn.

"Really? You're still thinking about Zayn? Our sweet, precious Zayn?" Louis laughed exaggeratingly, "Have you ever wondered why Zayn never agrees to give anyone's soul to me? Let me tell you why: first, he's a fucking idiot, a complete idiot who's trying his best to protect everyone from me – even you, huh. He's so generous that sometimes drives me crazy. Second, you've probably already guessed that: he's too powerful to need my help."

Harry covered his ears with his hands, catching his breath hastily. But that didn't stop Louis from needling his words into Harry's skin. "It will be really naïve of you if you truly think that Zayn...what, cares about you? Fancies you? My dear, that's what he does with everyone. Okay, maybe you're a bit special. I mean, never in his life has he met someone weaker than you."

"Stop it!"

"And you were even trying to argue with him. That was so...embarrassing, sweetie. I must say." Louis continued with a tender voice, "and you soon realised being enemies with him wasn't a brilliant idea, aye? So then you tried to befriend him, and felt disappointed when he didn't respond to your eagerness?"

"That's not true!" Harry yelled, ducking his head and closing his eyes.

Louis' laughter kept pouring down like the heavy rain outside. Harry felt like he's almost drowning. "You can keep cowering there and begging me to stop, but you know everything I said is realer than the air you're breathing in, crybaby."

"No." Harry wept, "No! No! No!"

"I can make you a much more powerful than your granny, that Taylor chick, and Zayn, of course. Haven't you been wishing him to disappear? Well, I like Zayn. But if you ask, that would work too."

"I don't!" Harry cried out, "Leave me alone!"

"You can't run away from it." Louis sneered, "You can keep trying, honey. But eventually you will realise that there is only one choice for you."

"Stop talking!" Harry pled, feeling dizzy. He reached out his arms to balance himself on the floor. Sweats came down from his temples to his necklines as his sight got bleary. Louis' voice became vague. "Stop it." Harry panted, and then he saw darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

And the endless silence from the deepest side of the core.