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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hazel's P.O.V

The typically quiet and dull house has become a colorful explosion of life over the past few days. The sounds of clanking china and silverware fill the large dinning room while the rushed wooshing of skirts and leather bottom shoes clamor about the hallways. Maids have been in and out of the house tidying places I didn't even know existed, the kitchen's been packed with people cooking away since Tuesday, and now a twelve piece band is trying to settle their way into the front living room.

But amongst all of the whirling excitement of Grandfather's "famous" business dinner, I've been reduced to nothing more than a silly school girl, drifting along through the chaos like a ballerina lost in the most beautiful swell of music.

I'm yours.

Who knew two simple little words had the power to render me completely useless? Ever since Sunday's confession, I've been lost in the memory of Harry's touch, drunk off the glimmering echo of his words.

I'm a proper ditz.

Although, if I had to turn into a complete dingbat, this is probably the best week to do so. I've had nearly no work to do around the house seeing as Gran has just about hired everyone in town to be working this party. I couldn't even enter the kitchen earlier without bumping into something or someone.

Plus, it's been a perfect distraction from the fact that I've actually grown quite nervous of this party over the past week. Gran has been talking it up nonstop, and after seeing all of the staff running about, I'm positive that my original understanding of this party is completely incorrect. Don't get me wrong, I love to have fun and I love any excuse to eat a ton of chocolate, but when I don't know anyone, and I already feel like a such a fish out of water, it just makes my slight social anxiety grow tenfold.

So for now I sit here on the steps of the stairs, keeping watch incase anyone needs any help, but mostly doodling mindlessly in my journal as images of Harry flicker across my brain and I actively suppress the urge to run out the door to avoid the whole evening altogether.

"Hazel, what on earth are you still doing sitting down there?" A shrill voice gasps. I stifle a small giggle as I look up to find Gran standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a gorgeous evening gown, curlers tightly wound in her white hair.

"You've got to get ready, m'dear! Our guests will be arriving within the hour!"

"It's alright, Gran." I call up. "I've only got a dress to put on." Gran's eyes go wide and then quickly narrow, her curlers rattling as she shakes her head in annoyance.

"Only, a dress!" she guffaws.

"But-"

"Young lady, you get a move on right this instant!" 

She clicks her tongue in a disapproval as I rise from my seated spot on the staircase slowly. Her raised eyebrow is inspiration enough to get me to hustle my way up to the stairs. When I round my way up the turning staircase, though, I notice that Gran is not alone. Beside her stands a stout older woman dressed in nearly ever color imaginable.

"Hazel, this is Genevieve, she'll be helping you get dressed for tonight." Before I can introduce myself, Genevieve grabs ahold of my arms and flails them about dramatically as she assesses me.

"Oh-kay," I mumble, looking to Gran for answers.

"Florence, you didn't tell me what a beauty your granddaughter is!" the plucky woman gasps.

"I know, she's an absolute love, but I'm sure she'll be even more gorgeous when you're done with her." I hate that both woman talk about me as if I'm not even here.