No Fear of Falling (Zarry AU)

Chapter 2

When Harry was seven, he broke his arm twice. The first time he did it, it was at he and Zayn’s joint seventh birthday party. It was January, so why he wanted to climb the tree in Zayn’s garden, no one knows. But for reasons known only to Harry, it had become his white whale so, after opening all of their presents and pushing Zayn over to win a game of Musical Chairs their parents had rigged so Zayn would at least win something, Harry retreated to the garden.

It had been snowing on and off since the New Year so he left little footprints on the lawn as he ran towards it, the red cape tied around his neck fluttering as he did so he looked like he was about to take flight. It was so cold that the fountain, the one in the corner of the garden with the pie crust edges and moss coloured water, had frozen over and icicles fringed the roof of the shed. But if Harry was cold, he didn’t care. Nor did he care that he didn’t have an audience, which he usually demanded when he did something like that. Look, Zayn! he'd call out as he scuffed his school shoes trying to find his footing. But that day everyone was huddled inside, the parents eating the cheese sandwiches that Tricia had cut into uneven triangles and being kind about the wonky cake while the kids charged around the house, trying to avoid Yaser as they played Escape the Monster.

‘Wait for me, Harry!’ Zayn called out, slamming the back door and tearing after him, leaving another set of footprints in the snow.

When he got to the tree, Harry was halfway up the trunk, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he looked up at the first branch.

‘Be careful of your new jumper!’ Zayn warned, but it was futile. Harry was climbing the tree and he wasn’t going to let the fact that he was wearing his birthday jumper deter him. He didn’t even want to wear the stupid jumper, it was an ugly too big thing that his grandmother had knitted, but she had pleaded with him. ‘I don’t know how many more birthdays I’ll be here to see you in one of my jumpers, Harry,’ she’d said with a sad sigh. And while Harry was too young to grasp the concept of emotional blackmail, he was well versed in bribery, so when his mother promised him the biggest slice of birthday cake, he reluctantly agreed. But later, when Harry had devoured it (and the icing on Zayn’s), he realised that his agreement with his mother had expired so if he climbed the tree he would succeed in two things at once: he’d defeat the tree while at the same time ruining the jumper so he never had to wear it again.

Even at seven-years old, Harry was smarter than all of them.

‘I hate this jumper!’ he shouted down at Zayn, stopping to rub his chest against the trunk, just for good measure. Unfortunately, he was a little too enthusiastic and that’s how he broke his arm the first time: he lost his grip while rubbing himself against the tree.

‘You tore your jumper!’ Zayn gasped when he landed at his feet.

Harry punched the air with his good arm. ‘Yes!’