WITCH HARRY!! (Patreon)

So basically, last year I had planned on writing a witch Harry one shot for Halloween on tumblr but I never ended up finishing it after a loss of inspiration and a want to write something else. I never shared with you guys everything that I had written of it because I thought I might go back and finish it up, and I still might! I'm just not sure if I like it still or if I'd go back and rewrite some stuff. 

But enough of all the chit chat, down below is all that I had written. It stops on a bit of a cliff hanger 

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i.

It was cold.

Freezing, really; Y/N was covered in goosebumps head to toe despite her being bundled up to the neck in a thick, closed knit sweater and something akin to a parka at Liam gave her so she wouldn't become hypothermic. He cared enough to give up his coat but obviously not enough to leave the party to drive her home, but to be fair they had just gotten to the party two hours ago and he'd gone to get so drunk that he would forget about Lily (his most recent ex-girlfriend. . .like three hour ago recent). Plus she hadn't really asked him to take her home either, she just asked for his coat so she could make the trek from Greek row back to her flat.  It was only a short ways, so she thought it would be just fine.

But Christ it felt like the fucking arctic outside! Which, for the middle of October, she thought was pretty ridiculous. There was no nice transition into nicer weather, it went directly to gelid and Y/N was 100% not into it. And she was only in a thin pair of leggings when she should have on thick fleece winter pants. In her defense though, it hadn't been this cold earlier. As soon as the sun set though, a bone-chilling wind was nipping at her skin and making it dry. The thought of a bath is the only thing truly getting her through this.

She could've stayed at the party longer, but she'd been so bored. There was nothing there for her -- the liquor was shit, the people there were loud, and Liam was planning on hooking up tonight anyways. Really, there'd been no point for her to be there at all, besides Liam's emotional support at the very beginning (he was a soft soul, he needed encouragement after a brutal break up). So once her job was done she took the opportunity to dip the hell out. Though now she's severely regretting it, at the time it had been her best idea of the night; a warm bath and snug socks would do the trick surely. Maybe her kitty would even be in the mood to snuggle for a bit, while she nurses hot chocolate between her frozen solid hands.

Y/N's so wrapped up in her plans that she almost doesn't notice the gentle whispering coming from her right, from the forest-y area near her. Her brows furrow -- was someone camping? Who could be camping out in weather like this? Were they batty?

"No -- no, this isn't the right winter berry!" The voice says in a hushed voice that was just a little too loud to be a whisper, achingly familiar in some way. Against her better judgement, Y/N's feet begin slowing the quick pace she had going for her, tuning her ears in a little closer (she never claimed to be anything but nosy), "Thumper I told you -- no, you listen here. . .goodness, you're aggravating!"

Thumper? Who was back there?

She tiptoes as quietly as she can towards the lining of trees, seeing a small rustle in groups of leaves and soft, annoyed curses that are filtering through the mysterious person's mouth. Uttering something about, "I should stop listening to you, y'know that? Bunnies are sneakier than foxes, you just wanted these berries for yourself -- ouch!"

"Hello?" Y/N calls into the forest, standing a clear enough distance so that something couldn't pull her in but near enough that she could kind of making out a shadow from the moonlight. The voice startles to a stop completely, a small gasp being hear before another big rustle of noise and the soft thud of someone hitting the ground, accompanied with another proclamation of hurt, "Are you okay in there?"

"Yes!" The voice calls out, more shuffling and susurrus of leaves as they are soundly scrambling.  Y/N tucks herself further into the coat, trying to ignore the shivers that are rattling through her body. Her teeth chatter just enough for it to be annoying but she's determined to see if this person pops their head out at the very least. It sounded like they'd gotten into a scuffle with a bunny and she doesn't know if she's more amused or concerned.

Finally the shadow gets nearer, popping through the lining and into the gleam of the street light. The tense that had built in Y/N's shoulders leaves as she recognizes the boy standing before her, in all his limber, lanky, sinewy glory. Harry Styles was easily one of the prettiest people she'd ever seen, with wild green eyes and amaranth pink lips. She'd only ever gotten to look at him in passing, but she had enough of an idea of his face that she could imagine it while she was doing a dramatic rendition of a St. Lucia song. They'd never spoken until now, and Y/N always presumed it was because he had much cooler friends that he would rather chat with than the girl who had a small, festering crush for him ever since she'd stepped foot on this campus for the first time to go to school in freshmen year.

Honestly, she would've imagined tonight he be at one of the many parties going on. Something about the football team winning a home game got every party thrower so amped that none of them could contain themselves to one party, so there were several popping off at every house. Surely he would've had to be at one of them, hadn't he? She sees him crowded by those kinds of people anyways -- the Greek life, sports, and theatre kids just love him to absolute pieces (she never hears the end of it) so she'd always imagined his weekends were spent getting his dick wet after throwing back a few.

Yet here he was, with a bunny clutched to his chest and eyes big, and doe-like. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders but that was it, really, only in a thin t-shirt and jeans with holes at the knees, though he doesn't seem to be nearly as cold as she is right now. His hair is a bit disheveled, with bits of leaves clinging to it and he looks proper rumpled. "Oh, hi Y/N," He says casually, and Y/N has to do everything she can not to let the shock show on her face. He knows her name? "What're you doing out so late?"

Y/N cuddles closer into the coat, "I could be askin' the same to you." She responds before motioning to the bunny, "He's really cute."

"Ah, don't let him hear that. He's got a bighead already." A smile tugs at Y/N's mouth, a giggle bubbling from her lips. Harry was so freaking cute, her heart was sore. The crush she can usually keep under containment is riling itself up, twirling around her like ribbon on a stick in the hands of a child. It makes her want to stuff her face into a pillow and squeal in a very high school, teen rom-com manner -- write sonnets about his dreamy eyes and shove them into his locker so early in the morning so nobody saw her do it.

But she's not in high school anymore and she can barely write her name sometimes without throwing a conniption fit, let alone an entire poem.

She opens her mouth -- to say what, she isn't quite sure, probably to just pull something out of her ass to keep the conversation going -- but a cold burst of wind hits at the same moment, so she shrinks back into her coat with a small squeak and a shiver, trembling. "G-god!" She grumbles through chattering teeth, "S'freezing!"

"It is pretty nipple-y t'night, innit?" He says, though he isn't reacting to the cold in the slightest and Y/N nods aggressively, "I could probably help you, if you'd like?"

Y/N nods, "Anything!" When he said help, she imagined he might have some of those eating packs that that hunters stuff into their shoes and gloves to stay warm. However as he sets his bunny down and walks towards her, he doesn't say much of anything, motioning for her to take off her coat before reiterating it aloud with a, "Lemme see it for a minute." To which she gasps soundly.

"A-are you crazy?" She exclaims, brows furrowed, "I'd get frostbite!"

Harry rolls his eyes, "Just trust me will you?"

Eying him, Y/N takes her shivering hands and struggles to grasp onto the zipper. For a moment she nearly asks him to help her but the thought alone makes her bashful, so she grits her teeth and gets a grip, tugging it down and unhooking the bottom. Letting it fall off of her arms but a second or two away from a full out sob from how absolutely frigid it was. The wind whips and bats at her skin like tiny needles of ice -- it's almost as if she can feel her whole body drying. She'll need to bathe in lotion if it kept going at this rate, as Harry peels off his blanket and wraps the coat within it, squeezing it around the fabric tightly. Y/N doesn't know what she's doing but she doesn't bother trying to wrap her brain around it, given she could barely calm her trembling body.

By the time he's done, Y/N feels like an icicle and she's glaring at him. He notices and chuckles warmly, "Ah, c'mon now, put this back on. Should be much better."

She grumbles incoherently as she takes the coat, a breath drawing in quickly and her eyes going wide. It was. . .it was hot. The fabric was hot to the touch, and as she slid her body inside of it, she was enveloped in what felt like a toasty warm hug. The chilly air completely shut out by the thick fabric now, stretching down to her toes, wrapping around her body and overcoming her in warmth all over. "Holy shit!" She exclaims, zipping the coat all the way up and looking to him, "How'd you do that?"

Harry only gives her a small wink, "Hurry home! S'only supposed to get colder and that should last you a good fifteen minutes." He fans the blanket out over his shoulders again, bending down to pick Thumper back up, "We've got some berries to find. See you later!"

As she watches him disappear back into the forest, Y/N's mind is still reeling.

What an endearingly odd boy; her heart thumps like it always does at the thought of him but fiercer this time.

                                                                       .                              .                           .

Y/N loathes her art class.

Hear her out, she thought she would really like it at first, but upon further inspection she figured out that she actually was subpar at art at her very best and that didn't make for a fantastic grade. She'd allowed herself to become bewitched by the bright colored pencils and canvas boards, spellbound by the acrylic paints named things like Plum Blossom and Alizarin Crimson, ensnared in the beauty of other people's artwork that she was just sure she could create just as well. Sure, maybe she wasn't great in art in high school, but maybe this would do her some good -- maybe they'd teach her how to draw.

She was wrong -- incredibly wrong. Art in college is what you do when you're actually already good at art, she finds, because no art professor really gives a rat if you're trying your best or not, they care about the end product and Y/N. . .well, she's shit in that aspect. Whether the colors she picks don't flow together nicely, her lines are too sharp or too rounded, her message isn't clear, or her tree looks like fire on a stick. . .the professor always had something to destroy. And not only was she destroying her artwork, she was destroying Y/N's spirit as well. The only reason she's even able to pass this class is because she does the extra credit tests she puts online.

And the worst of it all isn't even the grade or her lack of spirit to continue with her art. It's out of all the classes to have with him, Harry just happened to also have this class with her. Not only was he in the class with her, he was fucking exceptional at art for some unknown reason (like being amazing in every other way just wasn't enough). He was Professor K's absolute favorite because every piece he did he got done in a little under a week, it's beautiful conceptually and the paints, strokes of the brush, granite of the pencil is always so amazingly done it appears like something the likes of Van Gogh could whip out.  

Which wouldn't be so bad if she was up to par with his at least a little bit, but if she can hear Harry's endless praise from both the professor and the other students, then that means he can hear hers get torn to shreds as well. Peer reviewing is her absolute nightmare, so she usually tries to miss those days. She can handle the criticism from someone who is seasoned in the arts but other students coming for her feels almost like a personal attack, which has to be avoided at all costs.

That's why she's in a panic as she realizes that it's a peer review day, only after she's sat down and the professor has started speaking. Her mind in utter disarray as she looks down to her canvas, seeing a very poor sketch of a rabbit she'd started two weeks ago. Thank goodness it only had to be a sketch but as she takes a look around the room, everyone had decided to go above and beyond, erase all stray marks, trace out the lines they liked in the special pens and pencils they paid a fortune to obtain (that Y/N just didn't even want to know how much they were). She couldn't even bear to look over at the perfection that Harry had on his paper, so she keeps her eyes trained down.

She's straining them so hard that when someone drops down in the stool besides her, she nearly jumps out of her skin, an embarrassing squawk leaving her as she steadies herself, attempting not to fall. Looking to see that Harry's eyes are wide, staring at her, "Aw jeez, m'sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no, you didn't even scare me or anything," she tries to recover herself, eyes flickering to where his had fallen -- her rabbit -- and in an even furthered panic state, she takes the paper and flips it over so that it's facing the table. A frown pulls at his lips but before he can say anything she rushes, "I -- um, it's not very good I know." She tells him, "I'm not actually good at art at all."

Pouting, he's opening his mouth again but once more he's interrupted. A girl in their class -- Amy -- was always just the absolute worse. Like something straight out of a high school movie; she hated Y/N for some reason unbeknownst to her, was a repeated hookup of Harry's, and was always so brutal when it came to tearing Y/N's pieces down completely. Only instead of just judging her work and how it looks she also comes for things like her hands which Y/N hadn't been insecure about until Amy had pointed some things out. Already that stinks, she didn't want Harry to be able to hear it though. . .that would be even worse.

"Harry, the trees in your piece are so realistic its amazing! Nobody can do them like you, that's the sure truth." She draws his attention from Y/N who is sinking further into her seat, hoping that Amy magically forgot she was there. Even tries to appear at least partially busy with her phone, dragging it from her pocket so she could open it up to her messages and start typing something out to Liam. He is immune to random texts about this that and the other from Y/N, so she wasn't all too worried when all she had to send to him was, I don't think Idaho actually exists.

Of course she couldn't be so lucky.

In an instant she feels the mood shift from praising Harry, to a hand at the table, leaning in a little closer to feign interest in the page before Y/N, "What'd you draw then? Saw it for a minute the other day but you keep stuffing it in your bag." She tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing and Y/N knows this isn't just curiosity. Can feel her aura radiating something so dark that it makes her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"S'nothing." She murmurs, eyes flickering to Harry whose face is in a permanent frown it seems. Y/N usually not such a wimp about a bully, she would like to think, but its the fact that she's already so insecure about her art that leaves her defeated. She accepts it because she imagines that whatever Amy has to say is probably right anyways, and though she grits her teeth and pinches her nails into her palms, she keeps quiet. Doesn't lunge for her or do anything that might send her to the dean yet make her feel ultimately better.

Amy grabs for it anyways though and Y/N just doesn't bother -- whatever happens, happens, she supposes. Amy was going to see it anyways  at some point, she just would've preferred if it hadn't been in front of Harry, who was staring intensely at the situation. She feels more bashful about that than anything. . .wishes he wasn't about to witness what he was.

When she flips the paper over though, Y/N's drawing isn't there at all. Well -- it is her drawing, actually, but it's something a bit different. It's a rabbit but it's drawn so realistically, it looks nearly like a photo, the only thing giving away that it wasn't were small smudges of an eraser and an unfinished foot. Both Amy and Y/N's eyes widen, looking at the paper in awe but Y/N feels a little pinch at the side and looks over to see Harry mouthing play along and as much as she's confused, she trusts him. Nods slowly with furrowed brows before turning around to the scene unfolding in front of her.

"There's no way. . ." Amy squints at the page, taking a pencil off the table and flipping it towards the eraser, digging at the paper with it to see if it had been ink from a printer. When the lead disappears off the page, she looks nearly infuriated, "What the hell?"

In an instant, Harry slides into the stool on her other side, plucking the paper from Amy's hand with a big grin, "Wow, Y/N, you're really good!" He draws out a circle with his hand, "This right here -- the philtrum -- I see a lot of people get wrong, but you've done it mighty well haven't you? Looks just like my bunny Thumper . . .the one you met?"

Her mouth is hanging open, unaware of what he's doing but nodding slowly, dumbly, as she tries not to guppy like a goldfish. She feels Amy's anger vibrating off her, because not only did Y/N have a nice drawing that was even better than hers (which Y/N hadn't drawn, and isn't exactly sure how it ended up as such), but the boy she'd been pretty in love with since they'd started hooking up in freshmen year was talking to the girl she felt an unnatural amount of unwarranted hate for.

Harry turns to face her completely, "I was thinking -- maybe we should eat lunch together? You can tell me your process and everything?" She nods again, with no words, and Harry smiles warmly, "Nice! I packed extra cloudberry jam for sandwiches, so it'll be a right good time. We can go to the quad after this class if you're not busy?" Another nod, "Okay, Pet, see you then."

Amy had long since stalked away, so now Y/N was left alone, staring at her paper and feeling butterflies dance in her belly, unspooling like thread into every vein in her body to make her feel flittered and flowery. What was  that? Did Harry really invite her for lunch? In front of Amy? And what in the hell happened to the rabbit that she drew?

This was just too much! As happy as she is that she's eating lunch with Harry, her whole body is riddled with intensive nerves. She hasn't had any meal with any boy apart from Liam since a boy named Tommy last summer and it ended with him getting his tires slashed by an ex-girlfriend. Plus this isn't just any boy this is Harry -- amazingly amazing, sweet, beautiful, gentle, slow voiced Harry who makes her insides twist up in knots when he's around. And on such short notice? She normally needs three to four business days after anybody asks her to do anything to get ready for it properly.

The whole rest of the class period Y/N is able to write shit all about people's art, and when Harry catches her gaze and gives her a smile she feels her face warm up and the butterflies going even more haywire than they had been in the first place.

Fucking hell, what is he doing to her?

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As Y/N walks to lunch, she's in a sure state of panic again. Jittery and jumpy, not entirely ready for cloudberry jam with Harry because there was a huge chance that she was going to make a fool of herself in front of him. He's just too cute for her to act any sort of normal around him, and she had so many questions about the bunny but she also feels like it might be rude to really ask, so she thinks she might keep them to herself. And suppose it had nothing to do with him, then she would seem crazy interrogating him over a drawing. Though he had seen it before it had been done -- and the sudden invite to lunch was also a little different.

Whatever happened, Y/N's gnawing harshly at her lip as she walks to the quad, eyes scanning the tables, though he happens to be nowhere to be found. They'd left separately after class so that he could go get the jam from one of his professor's fridges. She's actually becoming quite disheartened until she sees him beneath a tree, leaning his back against the thick trunk and scribbling in a journal. There's a blanket lying down -- one with intricate, delicate, and swirling designs stitched into the fabric -- his bunny Thumper suddenly at his side, sat nibbling on what appears to be a clover (she wonders how, since she's pretty sure those aren't in season).

He's honestly something out of a book, she thinks. His shirt is a light color, decorated with softly stroked flowers in various pinks and whites, and jeans ripped at the knee. Hair soft, small curls beginning to twist around his ears as it got longer after he'd cut it (she can't decide which she likes more, because both his long and short hair just suit him terribly well). While the air is a bit chilly it's far better than it had been the first night they'd spoken to one another (and thank god for it too, because Y/N's wearing a bralette without padding and her nipples are known for poking trough clothes at the worst of times, i.e. an impromptu job interview). Though at least if she had said something stupid when it was freezing she could've blamed the cold getting to her head but now if she's dumb then there's nothing to blame it on but herself (and the odds of her not embarrassing herself were slim to none).

Y/N doesn't notice she hadn't made her presence known yet until she steps on a twig and Harry's head snaps up, stopping mid stroke of his pen. A smile softens his face once he realizes it's her, clipping his book shut and stuffing his nice ink pen into his open bag. "Hi there!" He chirps happily, leaning forward and digging out two Ziploc baggies, "I premade the sandwiches, I hope you don't mind. Thought it would be less messy that way." He waits until she slips her bag off her shoulders to hand her one, then as she sits he gives her a small water with a big smile.

"Ah, thank you Harry!" She tells him, "I love me a good sandwich. Think the last time I had a proper homemade one was a few months ago but I made it so it was pretty crummy. And my kitty stepped directly on it before I even finished it so it was sort of a short lived lunch to say the least."

Harry nods, an understanding expression clouding his features, "This one right here loves nipping at me food. Can't have any veggies around this one around without him having a go at it, and if your fingers happen to be there he'll swear up and down it's your fault."

"You're a veggie guy, are you?" Y/N leans toward him a bit, making eye contact with the little bunny whose little nose twitches, "No wonder your legs are so toned."

This makes Harry laugh and Y/N's whole heart lights up. She's never heard him laugh likethat before, and she thinks she's going to squeal right then and there. Gosh, what is he doing to her? Since when is she such a freaking teen rom com? This is the cheesiest and most cliché she has ever felt about a boy, it's almost borderline annoying.

Whether Thumper can tell she's about to make a right fool out of herself or if he thinks her breath smells like carrots (she had some as a snack earlier), but he creates a distraction for the benefit of her. Crawling his way over to her, he hops up onto her backpack so he's a little closer to her face and nudges his nose against her cheek like a little bunny kiss. Y/N pouts, her hand holding at her chest while the other reaches up to scratch lightly between his ears, "I am going to give all of my love to you." She promises him.

"Oi, Thumper," Harry grumbles, "Stop being such a lady's man for three seconds will you?"

The rest of their lunch is spent with the both of them biting into their sandwiches (they're delicious, really, she doesn't think she's ever had a sandwich so delicious) and talking about a little bit of everything. Y/N learns a lot about him, like that he used to be a baker, he is a bit of a bookworm and likes to dabble in poetry when he can, that he likes to make his own shirts when he has the chance, he's an ace knitter, and so much stuff it nearly makes her head implode. There's so much to him and she feels like she might've not made a dent in it, which makes her want to know more and more and more; he's so interesting, she think she could listen to his slow, smooth drawl forever and even beyond that.

He learns a lot about her in return, and though she feels she's not even half as enthralling nor fascinating as he is, Harry manages to look at her like she was the only person in the world. Even when she's' going on and on about how much she likes treehouses and how she'd always wanted one as a little kid, because of the book series magic treehouse and the dream never did dwindle -- Harry's gaze is intense almost. Y/N tries not to let it get to her head because if she's noticed anything in her time staring longingly at him, it's that that he has a knack for doing that to everyone he looks at. She figures that's why Amy is so territorial over him and why every girl and boy he talks to falls head over heels for him.

When he finally takes an alarmed look at his watch, he finds that he is about twenty minutes late to his next class. "Hell, I've gone and talked past a chunk of my Chem class!" He's shoving his things in his bag (including Thumper, who pokes his little head out and allows the back to be zipped just a few centimeters short of his neck, "We've got to hang out again soon, yeah? This is the best time I've had in a long while," he slips his phone out of his back pocket, holding it out towards her, "Would you be okay with putting your number in my phone?"

Y/N nods, typing it in and trying not to show that her hands are noticeably shaking. She's never really put her number in a boy's phone before, apart from Liam but he doesn't really count, so this is very new to her.

After she hands it back to him he smiles wide, "I'll text you soon. See you later, Pet."

As she watches him walk off, Y/N is just barely able to contain the excitement bubbling and bursting within her. This is something out of a movie, she swears to it -- like every movie she watched in high school and longed for the same things to happen. Even if it's something as little as him asking for her number, for someone who gets little attention from people this was big. . . .huge.

She plops back down against the dead grass, ignoring how it digs into her back thighs through the denim covering them.

She's a mess -- an absolute, gushy, mushy mess.

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Y/N is sat on her couch attempting to alternate between outlining a chapter and watching Stranger Things (which means she's plucking at her lip with the highlighter cap with her eyes trained on the screen) when her phone lights up next to her book. It draws her gaze from where it'd been, presuming that it'd be Liam -- he was supposed to send her a picture of the math homework so she didn't have to work her brain too hard for the night -- but the contact FUCKIN' LUGHEAD wasn't on her screen (one of his exes called him that when they broke up and Y/N just thought it was hysterical), instead an unknown number.

When she checks the actual message though, she feels like she might shit herself.

Hiiiiii, this is Harry. Are you free tonight? I want to show you something.

She squeaks -- she really can't help it, and it pisses her cat Blanket off who in return, toddles away angrily.  There's just absolutely no way!

It'd been a minute since Y/N and Harry had seen each other last, given there was a bit of a long weekend and art had been cancelled the following day (Professor K's sister was giving birth), and Y/N had long since lost hope that Harry was going to message her. Hell, she'd even talked herself out of thinking he'd had a good time at all when they ate lunch together, convinced that he was just putting on an act because he felt bad she was bullied. She had a nasty habit of convincing herself of terrible things though, and she should probably start to learn not to always listen to these sneaky little insecure thoughts -- it's hard though.

But he'd messaged her and asked if she was free. No matter the fact that it was just around 10PM, she'd never typed out a reply so quickly in her time spent having a phone. Scrambling up so that she could put on a pair of pants to accompany the sweater she'd been swimming in, Y/N could only find a plaid pair she'd gotten for Christmas one year. She ties them up around her waist, checks her phone to see Harry wanted to meet on Greek Row, just around the spot where they'd bumped into each other that first night, grabbing at her purse and slinging it around her neck before hurrying out.

Ever since Y/N had met Harry, things had been a lot better for her, she noticed. Almost like meeting him made the planets align in her favor, something similar to a good luck charm. When she thought she hadn't done her math homework, it happened that she had it all worked out perfectly. During her dinner she went to the dining hall for the baked potato night they're having, and they had seemingly run out of baked potatoes until the woman behind the counter offered her the last one. She was prone to stumbles and falls, yet when she tripped she seemed to correct herself in record timing. Hell, she has even been getting better marks on the things she had told Harry there was no way she would get above a C on (and yet she got A's on everything).

It's so weird and amazing all at once, that she doesn't know whether to question it or just accept it and ride it out as long as it lasts.

She plans on telling Harry this too, as she stuffs her body into the thick of her coat and shivers against the frigid winds biting at her nose, but all of her thoughts are lost when she sees him grinning all wide at her in front of the bush. Why he wanted to meet here, she didn't know, but her heart battered like a timpani at the sight of him. She's got it bad; truly something comparable with a melodramatic YA book.

"You're here!" He chirps brightly, "I told you she'd come Thumper, you big pessimist." The bunny in his arms wiggles his nose quietly, little head looking back and forth from Y/N to Harry and back again. Y/N returns his smile and nods, trying not to show how her teeth noticeably chatter with each gust of cold air. She wasn't a baby, and could muscle through it, though she wishes he would do that trick he'd shown her last time that left her heated down to the marrow. However, Harry doesn't seem the least bit concerned with the weather. He appears to be excited and nervous all at once, gleaming at her like a child about to show off his new toy, and soon she becomes more fascinated with how absolutely contagious his excitement is than her pre-hypothermic body.

"You were a much better alternative to studying." Y/N admits, "Why're we meeting out here though? Not that the ambience isn't lovely."

Harry sucks his lips into his mouth, rubbing them together for a moment anxiously before popping them both out in one slow move, "Don't think I'm a murderer or anything, but we kind of have to go into the woods to get to my place." He toes at the ground a bit, though the solid soil doesn't budge beneath his boot, "Nobody has ever really been, so I'm a bit on edge about it, but like. . .I trust you. Even if we'd only truly met a week ago."

Y/N can't say she isn't confused; Harry is more or less incredibly popular with people as she's mentioned before, so the thought of nobody having ever gone to his house is just unfeasible. Especially with how much talk there was about his hookups -- she'd always assumed that Harry wined and dined them in his home before hand, or at least that's what Amy always chalked it up to be when she was talking to her friends in the quad about it far too loud. Plus in the woods? Harry only proved to be more and more of a storybook character the more she got to know about him.  

"I trust you too." She tells him, "You didn't poison me with cloudberry jam and your bunny is cute. Also, you're a proper good luck charm because since I've met you my life has just been breezy."  

A knowing look crosses over his features, waving her over towards him as he starts stepping through the bushes. Y/N follows close behind, thankful that she was wearing her pajama pants so her legs weren't scratched up by the twigs and leaves. She'd expected to be stepping into a shroud of darkness but there was little orb like things stuck on the trees near them and in the distance, to add a glow to the pathway. Harry leads the way, slow enough so that she can keep up but still briskly. It gives her no time to really look around them which is probably good because Y/N fucking hates the dark and the woods and the possibility of creepy crawlers coming out to grab at her.

As they walk, the atmosphere around them shifts. The air as they walk further and further in becomes warmer, yet not as heavy on her shoulders as the it had been originally. The woodsy, citrusy smell that had first been surrounding her is soon overcome by a scent similar to cinnamon desserts and reminds her of cozy nights in. It's amazing; comforting, even, and she feels more relaxed as they get closer to their destination, as Harry slows to a stop in front of an overhang of leaves. Like a long green curtain dangling from a high branch of a thick trunked tree. Once he pauses, he turns a little to look at her, almost like he's making sure he hadn't lost her along the way, before returning to the curtain and pushing them out of the way.

Behind the thick shroud of leaves laid a wonderland. Or at least it seems like, as her eyes go wide to take in the storybook setting set before them.

There stood a tree with a trunk as thick as Y/N's living room, branches incredibly wide (enough where one could sleep on it comfortably on a king sized bed and beyond that) and long, sturdy and strong looking which she guesses is good support for the larger than life treehouse interconnected and twined between it all. It was hard for her to even describe; the trunk had a rounded red door the led inward showing that it was hollowed out on the inside and somehow it split off not only as branches but into different portions of what appeared to be a home. She could make out some things from where she stood like the steady flicker of a TV through the circular windows or a few pieces of decorations high enough on the wall for her to see. There are stringed lights wrapped around the branches, creating a soft glow that is only intensified by little glowing dots just floating around lazily, same as the ones that had been stuck on the trees they'd passed here.

Where she stood now, she was elevated and if she just walked down the little hill she sat atop there was a pellucid stream running horizontally that's soft susurrus against little plodding rocks gave her tingles. Surrounded by big, grey boulders and if she squints she can make out that there are some clothes lying flat amongst them as if they're being left out to dry after a wash. From there it's another gentle incline in earth before the tree had even started but once it starts it seems endless. This was no tree house by any standards, she begins to recognize, that this is someone's home.

The warm glow emitting from it sets the ambiance of their surroundings very nicely as she gawks at the scene set in front of her. It's simply amazing, is the only way she can truly put it. She's never seen something so absolutely beautiful in all of her years on this earth, so it's almost hard to comprehend all of the gorgeous surroundings.  "This," she begins, blinking, "This is --  Jesus, Harry, what is this place?"

She finally chances a look over to him, where he's grinning and glowing with pride, "It's my home." He answers, "I don't bring many people here because. . .well, it's not the most "conventional" though I believe that word can be interpreted in many ways. . .but I wanted to show you. Plus Thumper really liked you and he's a great judge of character, so I wanted to invite you over for hot chocolate. Do you like it?"

Y/N is still gaping in awe, nodding her head quickly and trying to tell her heart to quiet down as it speeds up, "It's beautiful, I've never seen anything like this before." She looks from the tree to him once again, "But why me, of all people? I mean. . .well, I would've expected Amy if anyone at all. Aren't I kind of just that girl in your class who is shit at art and shovels mini muffins down her throat?"

Chuckling, Harry shakes his head at her, "No, you aren't. From our lunch together I could tell you were someone I wanted to get to know more. I know showing you something like this. . .so private, almost, and big is something you might wait to do until further into the friendship but like I said: I trust you. Thumper too, even, and it's hard to gain his trust. Plus when you started talking about treehouses that day and I couldn't help but want to know what you would think of this."

"It's amazing," she gushes, stepping forward a bit as she gets closer, "And you live here? It's like a dream! Like an honest to goodness dream."

He grins wide -- prideful -- as he makes a swooshing motion with his hands, "Me humble abode it is. I could show you the inside if you'd like?"

"If I'd like? Are you crazy of fucking course I want to see the inside!"

                                                                               .                             .                             .

The inside is just as magical as the outside, Y/N soon finds. It's smooth wood stained lightly, decorations hanging on the walls of all various eccentric looking paintings and tapestries. Y/N thought she liked fairy lights but Harry had what appeared to be hundreds strung up on the inside as well, giving the rooms a comfortingly warm undercurrent to it that combats the wintry frost outside. There are rugs just about everywhere, shaggy, soft and well kept (or at least better kept than her shaggy rugs end up being).

The homes layout was like a penthouse suite, is how she would describe the main bit. With a large living room all prettied up with art and lights and the rug mentioned before, two plushy couches, and a TV set up across from it on an entertainment center. From the living room there was a little archway leading to the kitchen which dawned tiled floors and all the proper appliances; a stove, a sink, granite top counters, a fridge, and even a small table for eating. Really what Y/N was seeing was his treehouse was like any other house just. . .better. A thousand times better and the air feels light, airy, and sweet.

She doesn't request to see his bedroom as she feels that'd be a little too personal and he is already letting her in on so much, so she bites her lip and tries not to let her mind wander on what it could be like. Harry sets her up in his living room before pattering away towards the kitchen, clinking pots and pans around as he looks for his special "hot chocolate kettle" he called it. As she waits for him, her eyes continue to take in the room around her, getting a better look at everything hanging on the walls. Upon deeper inspection she recognizes some that he'd done in their art class, while others she hadn't seen but knows are still his brush strokes. For some reason the ones that he doesn't show off in class are even more intricate and charming than the ones he had.

There's one in particular that mesmerizes her, just above the couch. Though she saw no discernible image within all of it, the caress of the brush through a myriad of hues within the shades of blues and blacks, managing to separate itself from the look of a bruise. Speckles of a glittery gold that leave her spellbound, twinkling like stars reflecting off the light. To be so entranced by a painting is something that doesn't happen often with her -- she can surely appreciate one, but never has she just been so truly lost within one.

She's staring so hard at the painting that she doesn't even notice him walking back into the living room until he announces himself, "Something catch your eye?"

As the mugs clink together on the coffee table, Y/N twists to look at him and she struggles to keep the awe from flooding out of her eyes like a tidal wave, "You're amazing," she murmurs without thought, gaze flickering back to the painting, "It's amazing Harry, I -- all of the colors are so pleasing and the flecks of gold. . .how do you do this stuff? Are you Da Vinci reincarnated or something? Jeez."

He rolls his eyes, picking up the mug with a weeping willow on the side of it and holding it out to her, showing off the hot chocolate topped with marshmallows, whipped cream, and sprinkles of peppermint for her to take, "Oh stop it, you'll bloat my ego too much." A dimple carves a hole in his cheek as his mouth lifts up at the corners while he speaks, "Bet you could out do me, surely, with something even better. Your work is always amazing."

Y/N snorts, "Yeah, yeah, you don't have to flatter me Harry, you already got me to your house."

"I'm serious!" He exclaims, shifting up straighter against the couch he'd previously had leaned and melted against, "I like your work best of all."

"Harry, I don't know if you remember, but Professor K legitimately laughed in my face at my failed attempt to draw a panda, and nearly threw a fit when I asked her to help me with a pumpkin, which in my defense I had no clue was the "easiest Halloween object to draw" since I thought that title would've been given to candy corn." Shrugging, she tips the rim of the mug to her mouth and takes a tiny sip, eye winking at the burn on her tongue, "Hell, even when we're supposed to go abstract I somehow manage to muck that up too. Just can't get the whole art thing down."

He's rocking a whip cream mustache that he swipes off with the sleeve of his cardigan, shaking his head profusely, "Professor K is rude and also a terrible teacher, so don't pay any mind to her. Right awful she is -- think ever since she got remarried she's been a bit uppity as of late, but that's besides the point." Harry's shoulder nudges at the back of the couch as he turns to face her completely, "There's something so nice about yours like -- I especially love your paintings. I know you're trying but it also seems effortless and you don't act like some pretentious prick with their Princeton catalyst brushes who endlessly analyzes still-life fruit bowls." A giggle overwhelms her as he goes, and her whole body shakes with it so she tries to keep mindful of the sloshing hot brown liquid in her hands, "They're all so serious and drab and you. . .you just seem like you're having fun. That's part of the reason why I wanted to invite you over in the first place and why I had wanted to eat lunch with you -- you seemed fun."

Y/N feels her insides get all squishy as she goes soft, picking the hot chocolate up again and gulping it down. It slides down her throat and warms her belly even more so than Harry was right now, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth as she takes in the weight of his words. She seemed fun to him -- she was shit at art, made terrible jokes in class, and the professor along with a majority of the students in their didn't bother to hide their distaste for her -- yet Harry thought she seemed fun. Nobody had every really told her that before and no matter how small the compliment may seem to him (if he even thought of it as a compliment at all) her body tickles with bubbling delight.

"Aish, I feel like I've been less than your expectations would've had me be." She admits.

Harry shakes his head quickly, "I'm pretty sure you've exceeded them." He tells her, "Who else would meet me outside Greek Row and let me take them through the woods to my house after a week of knowing me?"

Y/N stares at him, waiting for him to continue as he wiggles his finger at her.

"A damn good time, that's who!"

                                                                            .                           .                       .

They talk for hours and hours about anything and everything, until it doesn't feel like they're practical strangers anymore. Y/N doesn't know what's in hot chocolate that coaxes people to let out their innermost thoughts and secrets, but both her and Harry were sharing things that they proclaimed not to share much to anyone. Of course they don't jump straight into "what do you think your place in the universe is" or something equally mind numbingly deep; Harry learns first about Y/N's weird interest in mushrooms and her preferred bubble bath brand first and in turn she finds that he has a Christmas onesie he can't wait to crack out and how he likes the Trans Siberian Orchestra (an interest they both share). Though as the night grew later and Thumper was resting peacefully against Harry's thigh, they get more personal.

Harry tells her how he doesn't feel very popular at all when it comes to school -- that nobody knows him really, apart from his marks and his appearance. Even with Amy he admits that its nothing amazingly close. People call Harry when they want him to bring booze or food or just want him around so that people will start showing up. Sure, he'd say he has friends but it feels mostly like him listening to them and them never offering the same luxury (of a listener). The only person he'd felt close with at all was his friend Niall, who told him straight that people liked him because they thought he was hot and wanted in his pants, to which Harry moaned, "I feel as though m'average at the most! Dunno why people would wanna be around someone when they don't give a licking care about their personality. Makes me think I must not have one much at all, if they can ignore it so easily."

After Y/N reassures him that his personality is lovely, that he matters more than just his face, and that she wouldn't be able to sit with him for longer than thirty minutes if she were only into him for his looks (which she mentions very briefly are quite nice). She explains to him that she believes in auras heavily -- that everyone has one of their own and it can emanate around them and draw people in. Thinks that is might just be quite charming in feeling, pleasing to be around and that's why it drags so many people in but the problem is that the people who have guts enough to talk to someone they find so alluring often are the one's who view things superficially.

And in turn she tells him that she's never been able to quite shake that feeling of useless, hopelessness that every dramatic teenager went through in high school even as her society proclaimed "adult" age. She describes how she doesn't think anyone truly cares about her apart from Liam and her cat but she's sometimes convinced Liam cares only because he cares about everyone (and her cat because she feeds her). That she doesn't feel sad, per say, she just isn't sure where she stands in people's eyes and how the animosity shown towards her in their art class can get her down regularly. That  -- as juvenile as it sounds -- she needs to be reassured sometimes that she's doing good at something or it's easy for her to want to give up.

Harry takes his time to listen to her words and consider them before telling her that she's not useless nor hopeless and that she can add another to the list of people who truly care about her (himself). "It feels like I've known you my whole life almost." He had said sheepishly before he shakes off the bashfulness and leans in a little, "You ever need reassurance don't go any further than me. I think you deserve to be told how great you are."

Y/N's heart is on fire in the best way.

It's around 3AM when she excuses herself to go to the bathroom and Harry -- with a snoozing Thumper resting in his lap -- gives her a short description of where it is. Y/N only realizes how absolutely exhausted she is when she walks down the hallway, passes three different doors and doesn't remember if he said it was on her right or on her left. No recollection of what it could've been he said in the slightest, as she guesses the left and twists the knob, opening the door to reveal a room that was most certainly not the bathroom.

The room was a good size, even with the shelves upon shelves lining not only the walls but the middle of the room as well, like a science classroom almost. Her discovery makes her eyes widen and her head perk up, looking around with a curiosity that couldn't be suffocated due to her sleep-deprived nosy mind, stepping into the room with no mind to the shift in the floorboards. On all of those shelves sat all sorts of bottles, tubes, and jars full of all different things -- a majority of them being liquid. Iridescent purples and striking blues, loud oranges and calm greys, there are even a few green ones that swirl around the color of Harry's irises. Absently does she wonder if he's an alchemist of some sort as she walks deeper in, letting her gaze draw in all the different things the room had to offer. More paintings and drawings littered the walls, a huge book in the middle of a desk that was open set in the center of the room, scattered candles here and there of various scents and design.

She reaches up to touch a particularly pretty bottle, that's nozzle loops around at the top and whatever it's containing is swirling around inside on it's own like magic, a glittering pink. Y/N thinks this whole room feels like magic almost -- like she could float if she willed it enough within her, or if she'd lie on the ground something might conjure up and wrap her within its warm arms to lull her to sleep. Or if she talked to it, it might talk back to her.

So entranced by the bottle she'd been eying, she reaches up to stroke her fingers against the glass hoping they weren't grubby to prevent a smudging. Though before she can really process the coolness of it beneath the pads of her fingers, a voice startles her immensely, "S'ppose you found my favorite room then." She nearly has a heart attack, flinching so intensely that she accidentally knocks into the wooden shelf with her shoulder and the bottle she'd been so amazed by wobbles and falls, splashing not only on the ground, but up her leg (staining it pink).

"Oh god!" Y/N panics, "I'm so sorry! I -- I was looking for the bathroom but I found this instead and it's so pretty in here, I kind of just got lost in it." She stares helplessly to the ground where the shattered glass lays, "I can pay for that! Or find you a new bottle, if you need, no matter the cost 'cos I'm sure that was expensive and I've just really ruined it and --"

She's speaking so quickly and looking around so fast that she doesn't notice Harry has gotten closer until he sets his hands on her shoulders, twisting her to face him more so than she had been, "Settle down, m'not mad or anythin'." He tells her, "Was planning on showing you this room tonight anyways." Her hammering heart only speeds up as he steps into the room, walking towards where she's made a mess of whatever was all over her all slimy and rose pink. Holding out his hand for her to take, helping her step over the sharp shards of glass susceptible to sticking in the bottom of her slipper. "C'mon, lets take care of your leg."

"My leg?" She wonders aloud, brows furrowing as her eyes cast down to see that there was red mixed in with the pink, staining her skin. That's when she finally recognizes a feeling like pain and something more bubbly tickling around inside of her, especially her leg, and Y/N thinks she might pass out. The sight of her own blood really makes her a bit woozy she will admit, so she darts her head back up and looks over to him, panic stricken over her face.

Harry must notice as he leads her across towards the actual bathroom, "S'okay, I can fix you up mighty nice, I promise. Shouldn't be nothing but a scratch from the glass."

"Harry," she asks, looking up to him, "What was that place?"

He helps her sit on the cool ceramic of the toilet, a small smile worming it's way onto his mouth as he begins digging in the cabinet beneath the sink, drawing out bandages, petroleum jelly, and hydrogen peroxide. Settles them atop of the counter and taking a cloth, wetting it from the faucet before bending back down in front of her, wiping away the blood and the liquid. She doesn't think she's going to get an answer at all until he finds the source of the blood and grabs the hydrogen peroxide, "I. . .my past time is a bit different from other people's." He begins steadily, "There's certain elements and chemicals that you can control. . . you can make things happen how you'd like with these. And sometimes, when you're born with a little something. . .when you are able to centralize that little something and when you have knowledge of it that you can -- you can control," his brows furrow as he tries to find the right words to say, "You can manifest things and --"

"So," Y/N cuts him off before he can talk himself into anymore circles, "You're like a witch?"

Physically, Harry cringes, "Gosh, I hate that name," he admits, "I guess that's the easiest way to explain it though, so yes, basically. . .I'm a "witch", as you wanna put it." He straightens out his back a bit, the peroxide bubbles a sting over the cut but he keeps her mind off of the fizzling, "I hope you don't think I'm crazy or something --"

"I don't!" Y/N rushes to cut him off, shaking her head, quickly, "Not at all, truly! Um. . .so were you the reason my rabbit changed?" Harry nods, "And why I've had such a stroke of good luck as of late? And my coat that one time outside of Greek Row. . . ." He nods once more, a little sheepish this time around, "That's. . .wow, Harry, that's amazing!"

Blinking at her, Harry's brows raise, "Really?"

Y/N grins wide, "Like, really fucking cool." She can't believe that Harry is truly something out of storybooks -- or well, she could believe it to some extent, if she's honest. Had known there was no way he was just normal. . .he seemed to unusually unique to be anything even close to someone like herself. Like he'd come from a whole different world, completely apart from everyone else. To have her suspicions confirmed gives her not only a small sense of pride, but a great sense of joy at the fact that he's telling her something so personal and close to him to her. Something that she's probably not meant to go gab to Liam about; that he keeps from people for obvious reasons. Absently does she wonder if he's told Amy about this bit of his life or if this is special for her to get her silent digs in with to some degree.

Harry's own smile grows increasingly as each second goes by, "Oh thank god!" He says in relief, "I've never really told anybody that before except for Niall and he passed out, so this is a comforting response to what I've been given in the past."

"So what is it that fell on me exactly?" She questions, twisting her now bandaged leg with new found wonder, her body swarming with warm little butterflies twinkling at her insides, duplicating like cells at a rapid pace when Harry gives her leg a small and careful caress. Making sure the bandage is secure, she's sure, but that doesn't stop her mind from twiddling off to every other possible option of why he could be touching her so gently.

His brows furrow, "You know I'm not positive?" He admits and when her eyes enlarge he rushes to finish, "It's not bad, I know that for sure. It was on the defective shelf so it must've not worked in the slightest. I'll take a look at what it is in the morning." With this he looks at his watch, his knees popping as he stands, "In the meantime, we need'a hit the sack. S'a little past three and I for one am absolutely knackered."

"Oh, right!" Y/N wobbles up to a stand, still feeling a bit bubbly and fizzled, all of it centralizing in the spot where she'd been cut by the bottle. Though she thinks nothing of it as she gives herself a good wiggle out, waking up all of her limbs, "Sorry for keeping here so late, I didn't realize the time. Where's my coat at?"

Harry tilts his head, "Why would you need your coat?" He questions her, "You're staying the night here."

"I am?" Y/N hadn't known that was an option in the slightest and the fact that it is doesn't stop the butterflies fluttering about, adding an additional nervous twinkle. She's heard just the worst stories from Liam about what kind of sleeper she is -- she snores sometimes, talks other times, flops around so much that she often falls off whatever she's atop of. Hell, she'd best keep her fingers crossed that he sticks her on the couch and goes off to his own bedroom so that he wouldn't witness the brunt of it.

Rolling his eyes, Harry motions for her to follow him, "Did you really think I'd send you off to walk home in the middle of the woods, by yourself, at three in the morning? What kind of person do you take me for?"  He stops at a door in the hallway, twisting it open to reveal a closet and he stretches up on his tiptoes to grab at two thick blankets from the top shelf, "My sanctuary and defense spell only reach the bounds of where the glowing lights start -- once you past that and get to greek row, you're on your own, and I couldn't let that happen in good conscious." He hands her the navy colored blanket, keeping the olive one for himself, "'sides, Thumper n' I get so lonely here at nights, so your company is much appreciated."

They go back to the living room and Harry begins setting himself up in the couch adjacent to her, much to her disappointment (she really hopes slumbering her keeps it in fucking check, or she's going to be pissed). Thumper hops up onto the spot just next to Harry's head, plopping down comfortably and snuggling into his ear. "G'night, Y/N." He says to her, before clapping his hand so his lamp turned off but the fairy lights still shine around the ceiling so it wasn't all too frightening.

Lying in her makeshift bed, Y/N snuggles her face further into the plush comforter, surrounded in a woodsy smell, in a woodsy place, her body still fizzling and bubbling like never before.

Just before she falls asleep, she makes a mental note to give Marshmallow a treat since she'd left her alone all night.

                                                                          .                        .                         .

Harry wakes to Y/N