Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the first really pretty spring day in the city, and Louis watched it from inside the bookstore, her frustration growing with each carefree woman who walked by. She hadn’t bothered to flip the record that had been playing, and her copy of the Dialectic of Sex was still opened to the same page it had been for the past half hour. Niall’s fat grey cat jumped up onto the counter, setting her paws on the book and bumping her head against Louis’ chin, demanding cuddles.

“Yeah, yeah, hi Sappho.” Louis scratched behind the cat’s ears for a moment before looking down at her, suddenly remembering that the cat was the cause of her current annoyance. “Shouldn’t be petting you, should I? You’re the reason we can’t have the lousy door open.” The cat squeaked back at her, and she shook her head. “I know, I’m not actually mad at you. How could I be when you’re the prettiest girl I know?” The cat purred, lifting her chin so Louis could rub her knuckles against the soft fur there.

“Good girl, Sappho, keep ‘er in line.” Niall opened the door at the back of the shop that lead up to her apartment, the scent of whatever she’d been cooking in her crockpot all day wafting out before she closed it again. Her silver hair wasn’t hidden behind a hat for once, and she looked as though she’d just given herself a bit of a clean up around the edges, the back looking sharper than usual. Louis put two and two together.

“You’ve got a date tonight, haven’t you? That’s why you cancelled the reading. Who’re you taking out?”

Niall laughed and shook her head. “None of your business. All you need to know is that I’ll be back after closing, so you’ll be the one locking up tonight. And it’s not why the reading is cancelled. The reading is cancelled because the heartbroken poet got a new girlfriend last week and can’t be arsed to leave her side in Ithaca.”

Louis wrinkled her nose and sniffed, annoyed both at how blasé some people could be about their opportunities and at her own lack of a girlfriend who could make her want to ignore her responsibilities. “Hope you don’t invite her back. Her poetry wasn’t that good anyway.”

“It was good enough for a Tuesday night. If anyone comes around thinkin’ it’s still on, give ‘em the flyer for Zayn’s concert next week? She’s nervous about it, you know. Thinks people might, eh-- not come.” Niall raised her eyebrows at Louis, who nodded back at her.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve got a couple of women coming for sure, and I don’t doubt that Liam will have invited a few people of her own. We’ll have as much of a crowd as we usually do for our events.”

Niall tossed a paperback at Louis’ head. “I know what you were implying there, Lou, and you’ll shut it if you’re wise.” As Louis picked the book up from the floor where it had landed when she’d batted it away, Niall leaned against the counter and came nose to nose with Sappho. “Alright, my beauty, don’t let Lou get away with too much. You’re in charge.” The cat squeaked back at her, and she kissed it once on the head. “Night, Louis.”

“Have fun,” Louis said as Niall turned to go. “See you tomorrow.” She had no doubt that she’d get to meet the woman Niall was on a date with if things went as they usually did. In spite of being Louis’ senior by a good twenty years, she still managed to find dates with women of her own age and a bit younger without trouble, charming them right away and somehow keeping in their good graces enough that most were still regular patrons of Womon's Direction.

It was just after five when Niall left, and the event had been scheduled for six, so Louis tidied up the shelves near the front of the store for a bit, letting herself soak up as much of the daylight as she could. She eventually rewarded herself with a cigarette, stepping outside and enjoying the cooling air against her skin. The street the shop was on was busy enough that traffic was rushing by this time of day, both on foot and in cars, and she as she leaned back against the door she let herself make up stories about the more interesting passersby.

Across the street she noticed one woman in particular who seemed to be in a quandary. She’d actually crossed over and back again twice while Louis had been outside, checking her watch each time she made it to the side of the street Louis was on, biting her lip, and then crossing back over. When Louis stubbed out her cigarette, the woman was back in the greenway in the middle of the street, sitting down in the grass with her bag at her side as she played with the hem of her skirt.

“I did just see a pretty lady, thank you for asking, Sappho,” Louis said once she’d gotten back inside and the cat had stretched up to put its claws in her jeans. “I think she’s training for a marathon, but she’s doing it very slowly, starting out with short distances. Don’t think she’ll win that way, but women are full of surprises, aren’t they?” The door chimes rang out and Louis looked up to find the woman she’d just been talking about standing with one foot in the store and the other still outside. She looked as though the door sound was enough to frighten her off, so Louis took action without thinking.

“Hello, come in. Were you looking for the reading?” She walked toward the door and opened it a bit more, one eye toward the counter where Sappho was perched. “Better close the door, Sappho may look harmless, but she’s been known to do a runner now and then.”

“Sappho?” In addition to being unbelievably lovely, with long dark curls that she’d kept loose tucked behind one ear and mile of pale chest exposed by the deep v in her buttoned blouse, the woman had a voice that could drive anyone to sin, smooth and deep with just a hint of smoke behind it. Louis’ brain shut down temporarily, her senses coming back to her when the woman cocked her head to the side curiously.

“What? Sorry, missed what you said.”

“Oh, I asked if you were talking about the cat.” She pointed behind Louis at Sappho, who’d now jumped off the counter and was headed slowly yet steadily toward the door. Louis shut it abruptly.

“Yes, right. Lesbian book store,” Louis waved one hand around a bit. “Wouldn’t be what it is without a cat named Sappho.”

The woman tucked her hair behind her ear again and smiled at the ground. “She was a right on woman,” she mumbled, lightly shrugging her shoulders. Louis chuckled back at her and she looked up, the pleased smile still on her face.

“It’s your first time here? I haven’t seen you around.” Louis moved toward the counter, hoping the woman would follow her. There were a few chairs set up over there, one that Sappho usually claimed as her own and two more for anyone who felt like sitting down and looking through a book or periodical. Louis hopped up on the counter and the woman sat.

“Yeah, I just moved to the city. I read about this place in the LC? Been wanting to see it since then.”

“Ah, the old Lesbian Connection, connecting lesbians. How’s it measure up?” Louis looked around at the small bookstore with its handmade wooden shelves and makeshift resource table at the back full of free magazines and flyers and the odd pamphlet. It didn’t look like much to her, but then she’d been working here for a few years. Her first time visiting it had felt like a fantasy world.

“There’s so much.” The woman’s husky voice was soft and sincere as she leaned over for a closer look at the nearby shelves. “I’ve never been in this kind of store before.”

“No?” Louis smirked at her, kicking her foot out to playfully tap the toe of her sneaker against the arm of the woman’s chair. “You’re not some out of town dyke coming to take notes on how to run a mildly successful women’s bookstore? Are you sure about that?”

The woman giggled in response, quickly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “You never know, I guess.” She glanced to the side, playing coy, and Louis bit her lip at the sight of her long, delicate fingers with the nails cut short. Not that she’d doubted this woman was gay, but her hands were the last little giveaway.

“I’m sure Niall would tell you everything, if you wanted. She won’t be back till after we close, though, so I’m afraid you’ll have to come back another day for that.”

“Oh! Niall, that’s the contact in the listing!” The woman’s smile broadened. “Guess that’s obvious, right? I’m just excited. First time and all that.”

“First times are alright, aren’t they? The most fun, sometimes, even.” Louis crossed her ankles and raised her eyebrows just once. Maybe she was being too obvious or too flirtatious or just too much in general-- she’d been accused of that a lot --but this woman was nervous and confident all at once, having worked herself up to come into the store and then managing to joke and effuse and be completely charming. It was worth being a bit much.

The woman responded with burst of laughter that she almost immediately bit back, clapping her hand over her mouth with more force this time than before. Louis worried for a moment that she’d overstepped, when the woman moved her hand away and lifted her shoulders, looking up through her lashes to say softly, “I wouldn’t know, I guess.”

“That’s…” Louis searched for the right word: good, great, wonderful, fine, maybe preferable to you being some magical creature who thinks I’m a lowly butch in a ratty t-shirt who doesn’t deserve to be given the time of the day. Of course she couldn’t really say any of that. “...what I figured, since you said you’re new here.” There was a moment of awkward silence before she cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway, you didn’t say what brought you in today. Is there a book you wanted, or maybe some community information?” Louis forced herself to stop talking, swallowing hard and holding her breath to look back at the woman. She was looking away again, scrunching her face as she stared at one of the shelves.

“I came in for the reading, actually? I thought I was going to be just on time for it, but maybe I got the day wrong?” She glanced back toward Louis, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, shit, of course. She cancelled.” Louis jumped down from the counter and over to the community table, grabbing one of Zayn’s flyers. Maybe she’d get another chance at not embarrassing herself with… “I never asked your name, did I?”

“Oh! Harry.”

“Well Harry, the poet found love and couldn’t leave her new girlfriend’s side, but we’re having a show next week at the same time that’ll probably be even better.” Louis held out the flyer, which was a basic looking mimeograph with a few women’s symbols added to the type. “Zayn’s amazing. She was with Olivia Records for a while, almost had an album with them, even. But she’s up here now.”

Harry studied the flyer for a moment, her eyes scanning the page. “Can I keep it?” Louis nodded, and she folded it up carefully, sliding it into a zippered pocket of her bag and sealing it in there. “Guess that gives me a chance to look around,” she said, standing up from her chair. Sappho approached and stood near her feet, rubbing against her stocking covered legs. “Care to show me the place, Sappho?” She reached down and stroked the cat’s head until it moved away, leading her toward the science fiction section.

Louis moved back behind the counter and pretended to read her book again, struggling through the same paragraph three times before she gave up and pulled out a notebook instead. She glanced up, making sure Harry was still on the other side of the store before she pulled out her pen and scrawled a few lines down about green eyes and delicate hands like a heartsick idiot.

Sappho announced Harry’s return to the counter by trotting ahead and jumping up, swishing her fluffy tail in Louis’ face. Louis closed her notebook just as Harry set a few magazines and one album down carefully, biting her lip as if doubting her choices. Louis turned them around and thumbed through them carefully.

“You’ve got a couple of good ones here, Harry. But, um,” Louis hesitated for a moment, thinking that Harry might not even want to hear what she had to say until she looked up and saw Harry looking back at her with an open, almost hopeful expression. “If you haven’t read the Winter issue of “Artemis’ Light” it’s a bit better than the Spring one you’ve got. I know we still have a copy or two because I was looking at it yesterday.” Harry smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“I haven’t read any of them, really. Um. First time and all.”

Louis came around the counter, trying and failing to ignore the blush that spread over Harry’s cheeks. She put her hand lightly against Harry’s back and led her toward the one shelf, moving a few things around until she spotted what she was looking for. “Here it is. Actually, take this one. I’ll pay for it. When you love it you can come back for the spring issue.”

Harry started to protest but Louis just shook her head and walked back toward the counter, periodical in hand, and started to ring up the other items. “I know you can afford it, but you’re getting plenty of things already. And we disappointed you by cancelling the reading, right?” Louis gave Harry a wink and then quickly looked back down, happy to hear Harry’s surprised little chuckle in response.

When she’d paid, Harry took the bag that Louis slid across the counter to her and carefully fit it inside of her other bag, making sure nothing was creased and that the record was secured. “You’ve been really amazing,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “but you never told me your name? How will I ask for you to help me next time if I don’t know what to call you?”  

“Louis Tomlinson.” Louis stuck out her hand and immediately regretted it-- she couldn’t remember the last time she’d shaken hands with anyone other than people she never wanted to talk to again --but Harry took it just the same, the tips of her fingers slipping down over Louis’ wrist in a grip that was tight but not too tight. She held her breath for a moment. Maybe shaking hands was a tradition that could use reviving in women’s circles. She held onto Harry’s hand just a beat longer than she thought she should after they’d finished shaking hands, savoring the soft warmth of Harry’s palm.

“Well, we’re formally introduced,” Harry said as she took her hand back, slowly wiggling her fingers in a way that was terribly distracting. “So you’ll be here next week? For the concert?”

“With Zayn? Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it. I’m here most days, really. It’s either me or Niall, and she’d probably just run the place herself and close it up when she felt like if I hadn’t forced her to hire me.” Louis flexed her hand, imagining the tingle of Harry’s energy still vibrating through her hand. She laughed at the thought, realizing how unlike her it was to think such a thing, and then caught herself as Harry looked back at her expectantly.

“Sorry, it’s just funny that…” Louis scrambled for what could possibly be funny. Anything at all. “You came in and nobody else did. Guess Niall closing up wouldn’t be the end of the world. For business, at least.” It was a terrible save, but a save nonetheless. Harry smiled.

“It might’ve been alright for business, but I don’t know if I would’ve been able to make myself come back if you hadn’t been here.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and looked down before continuing a bit more quietly. “I actually got here an hour before things were supposed to start and kept trying to get the courage to come inside. I saw you step outside and it made it easier.”

“Easier how?” Louis edged forward, wanting to tip Harry’s chin up or duck her head down to look her in the eyes, but not wanting to disturb the delicate balance between them.

“Just, you looked like someone I would want to know.” Harry fell silent, slowly looking up as if she were afraid she’d said something wrong. Louis kept a slight smile on her face, raising her eyebrows before she spoke.

“And you looked like someone I’d wanna know.” She dared to graze Harry’s bare arm with her knuckle. “And now we do.”

“We do,” Harry said with a nod. She straightened back up and gave Louis a smile, her confidence-- or the semblance of it --restored. “So, next week?”

“Next week!” Louis said, maybe a bit too brightly.

Harry turned as she got to the door, opening it by leaning back against it. “Bye, Lou.” She curled her fingers in a wave and then she was gone.

Outside, the spring day had turned to evening while Louis and Harry talked, and Louis realized that though it was a little early, she could probably close up shop and take the short walk over to Liam and Zayn’s. If she went soon enough, she might even be able to join in on whatever they were making for dinner. Sappho meowed, bucking her head against Louis’ shin as though asking to be allowed to give her opinion on matters.

“What should I do, Saph? Stay here and write, or eat dinner with Li and Zayn?” The cat sauntered over to her chair and leapt up, picking at the fabric with her claws until she was satisfied with having made it comfortable and then curling up into a ball of grey fur. “There’s one for stay here,” she said, going behind the counter to open her notebook. She had a dozen half-finished poems that she should work on, but the only one she could think of was the fragmented series of images she’d just written about Harry.

Picking up her pen, she started writing, not focused on getting anything down but the emotion that she wanted to convey and the images that wouldn’t leave her head. She stayed like that for half an hour, filling several pages before she set her pen down and stretched her fingers. There was enough there that she could probably write several poems, maybe even a song if she decided to ask Zayn to help her. She looked at Sappho, who was asleep and purring in her chair. “That’s all for me tonight, cat. Don’t tell Niall I closed early.”

********************

As Harry left the bookstore, she felt so full of emotion that she wanted to shout about it. She settled for keeping her head up and smiling instead, avoiding eye contact as much as she could but secretly wishing she could simply run up to the first woman she saw, take her by the shoulders, and tell her how absolutely wonderful women were.

A man caught her eye and nodded at her, giving her a quick once over and a smirk, and her bubble burst just enough that she stopped smiling. She still wanted to tell everyone, though. They should know, shouldn’t they? And if they didn’t, maybe she could tell them about the things that women wrote and sang and thought when left to their own devices together. She didn’t say any of that to anyone, of course, but she clutched her bag a little tighter as she descended the stairs onto the subway to ride up to her apartment, feeling as though she had to protect the treasures it held inside.

The station was nearly empty, and when the train arrived she took a seat on a bench in the only other car she saw a woman entering, trying to ignore the smell of cigarettes, stale sweat, and spilled beer that hung around the car. Her mother would hate it; she’d expressly forbidden taking the subway after sunset (and would prefer Harry not take it at all, of course). But her mother wouldn’t know if Harry didn’t tell her, and like everything of any importance, the best part of Harry’s activities for the day-- the spark of the bookstore and Louis and being on her own --would be something for only her to know. She looked up as the train pulled into the station, still adjusting to the number of stops she had to sit through before arriving at her own. 34th. A few more to go.

The train picked up more passengers at 42nd Street, rumbling over the track and stopping once or twice with a jerk before they hit Columbus Circle. Harry began to doubt her choice to take the subway as a man stared at her from his spot on the bench across from her. He stood and moved closer after the train doors finally closed, and Harry abruptly picked herself up and moved toward the door, pretending to have taken a sudden interest in the graffiti that covered the wall of the train.

She could still feel the man watching her as her stop came up and the doors opened, and she waited until the last possible moment to step off the train, turning to make sure he’d stayed on the train and not followed her. He hadn’t. She sighed to herself and started her walk home, up to the lights of Lincoln Center and then a bit east to her apartment. It was only a few blocks, and she knew that her mother was right-- it really wasn’t all that safe for her --but she couldn’t help feeling the slightest shiver of excitement as she walked the quickly darkening streets on her own.

The doorman greeted her and she looked in her mailbox, pulling out a card from her older sister which she opened on the way to the elevator. It wasn’t more than a quick welcome note and a reminder that Gemma’s best friend Jean was “also a single girl in the big city” as if Harry could’ve forgotten with all of her mother’s schemes to get the two of them to live together. She was happy to have avoided that fate.

Her apartment was a one bedroom that had been in their family since not long after the building went up. At the time it must’ve seemed enormous, but by 70s standards it was just enough room for one or maybe two people with a bit of space to entertain and eat informally by the kitchen. Harry’s mother had done all of the decorating, and it showed in the stoddy old couch and hard backed chair that were entirely too close to the door and the awful, old-fashioned art that adorned the walls.

“Hello, darling,” Harry said to the spider plant she’d bought and hung in her kitchen. “Are you thirsty, girl? Did you get plenty of sun today?”

The plant didn’t speak back, but Harry had quickly realized that living alone and working her terrible job and speaking to her mother once a day was not going to cut it for her. Pets weren’t allowed, so she’d gotten a different living thing to take care of. It made her feel less solitary.

“I’m sorry I was late getting back to you, but I did ride the subway home. Alone .” She turned to look at the plant as if it had just expressed its shock to her. “I know! I couldn’t believe it either.” She opened the cupboard and pulled out a package of pasta and a jar of sauce, setting them on her kitchen counter. “Something else happened too, but it might be too exciting to tell you about until after my call with Mother. You understand, don’t you girl?”

The phone rang at that moment, and Harry looked at the clock, realizing she was ten minutes late for calling her mother. “Shitshitshit!” Harry shook out her limbs, trying to compose herself for what was coming. “Hello, Styles residence, this is Harriet,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster.

“Hello, Harriet. You were late for our call.” The freedom Harry had felt in her bones was quickly replaced by tension, her grip on the phone tightening as her mother continued. “I was beginning to worry. You do remember there’s a murderer on the loose right now, don’t you? I hope you weren’t out by yourself at all.”

“No Mother, of course not. I did have a drink with a couple of girls from work, but we split a taxi uptown. They don’t live far from me.” It was all a lie of course. Harry couldn’t actually name any of the girls from work-- they seemed to be working the job to find husbands anyway --and even if she could she knew most of them wouldn’t be able to afford to live on the Upper West Side or anywhere else near Harry. At least not anywhere respectable by her mother’s standards. It didn’t matter. The lie allowed her to unknot one tiny strand of freedom from her mother’s grasp.

“That’s lovely, dear. And have you met any men yet? Anyone I could mention to your father?” Harry could practically feel her mother holding her breath through the phone line, waiting for the day that the answer would be ‘oh yes, mother!’ instead of Harry’s usual. Harry held her breath too, releasing it quietly before she spoke.

“No, Mother. It’s the same as yesterday, I’m afraid.” Harry twirled the phone cord around her finger and then let it go, watching it spin as her mother sighed.

“Well, Harriet, I have to keep asking or you’ll never tell me these things. And you never know who God will put in front of you.”

“You’re right, Mother. I’ve no idea who God will put in front of me.” Harry thought of Louis for a moment and smiled to herself, tuning out the rest of what her mother was saying until she heard a change in her tone. “I said promise me, Harriet.”

“Of course I promise,” Harry said, exasperated though she had no idea how long her mother had been asking her to promise whatever she’d promised.

“Good. I worry about my little girl, you know.”

Harry couldn’t bring herself to respond. She’d probably just promised her mother that she’d come back in three months or six months or a year, that she’d never ever stay in this grubby city when she could be in Boston, right there amongst every member of her family except for her uncle who nobody talked about and the cousin who hadn’t spoken to his parents in years whose name was always accompanied by the sign of the cross.

“You’ll call me tomorrow? At our usual time?”

“I’ll try my best, Mother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harriet.”

Harry hung up the phone and collapsed onto the sofa, squirming around until she found a way to almost relax into it. She eyed her pasta and the pot she had out on the stove, wishing she were Samantha Stevens and could twitch her nose to make her dinner prepare itself. “Or maybe I could live with her,” she whispered to herself. “And she could twitch her nose and I’d be like Darren only better.”

She thought about it for a moment, her lips spreading into a slow smile: Elizabeth Montgomery, all lovely and blonde with her pert nose and apple cheeks, wearing a pretty dress. Winking at her from across the room and doing handy little spells to make their lives easier. The more she thought, the more Elizabeth Montgomery shifted. Her hair got shorter and her face changed shape and her pretty dress turned into blue jeans and a worn t-shirt with “Welcome to Lavender Country” pressed onto it in faded black ink until she could practically see Louis in front of her. Harry promptly grabbed a pillow from the couch and screamed into it, the muffled sound not nearly loud enough to feel truly cathartic but certainly much better than anything she’d gotten out so far.

Her little interlude forced her up off the couch, and she made her dinner and shoved the leftovers into tupperware, figuring she could heat it up tomorrow or the next night for dinner if she felt like it. Her dishes done and nothing else on her agenda for the evening, she went to her room and finally pulled the exciting contents of her bag out to give them a closer look.

The record was first. Lesbian Concentrate. She flipped it over and read the back, excited to have something not only political but completely, undeniably lesbian in her hands that wasn’t just a copy of Lesbian Connection. She slid the album out carefully, pulling it from the sleeve only after she’d stood and opened her record player. She’d have to find somewhere to hide it, of course. Her mother wouldn’t be visiting for a few months, but when she did she’d definitely find something like this if it wasn’t properly stored away.

She let the music play quietly as she opened the issue of Artemis’ Light that Louis had given her, delicately fingering the pages apart where they’d stuck together in a corner. She couldn’t decide where to begin with it so she let it fall open naturally, reading the first poem her eyes fell on, a longer one entitled “Fireproof” that was filled with images of women fighting their way through the oppressive patriarchal fires of history, both literal and figurative, to come out stronger over time. It was a few pages long, and as Harry realized it had shifted, going from talking about one woman to more than one, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

The author was anonymous, and Harry cursed quietly under her breath, turning the pages back so she could read it over again. A familiar song came on and she hummed it under her breath as she took in the words, thinking for a moment that the poem might make a beautiful song itself. “We must be fireproof,” she sang in tune with “Sweet Woman,” covering up Cris Williamson’s voice with her own. It was definitely the wrong tune, and she turned over onto her back to listen to the actual song more intentionally, carefully setting the magazine down beside her.

“Oh the warmth surroundin’ me, it just won’t let me be,” Harry sang, trying not to raise her voice too loud and disturb her neighbors. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back to the bookstore earlier. It had been warm there, partly from keeping the door closed, yes, but mostly because of Louis-- her sunshine laugh and blue sky eyes and the way that just for a moment it had felt like she was flirting with Harry. Harry picked up the lyrics again in time to sing “hold you and you’ll be miiine, sweet woman, rising so fiiiine,” lying in bed with her eyes closed, smiling like a fool. It couldn’t last, even for a moment.  

“Harriet Elaine Styles, you are being ridiculous,” she said as the song finished up. It felt like she was, anyway. Here she was letting herself imagine some kind of romance with a woman she’d only just met. “She might be gay, but that doesn’t mean she likes you.” She said it the way she’d say it to any of her friends with a crush. Through the years, Harry had developed a reputation for being overly cautious about dating. She hadn’t realized until she was nearly finished with her education that much of her hesitance had come from having little to no interest in men.

A woman began to speak on the record, and Harry fumbled for the album cover to see what the work was called. It was “A History of Lesbianism,” and she went quiet, her thoughts of Louis hushed as she tried to soak up the words that the woman was speaking. When it was over she moved the needle back and listened to the poem two more times before deciding that was all she wanted before bed, at least as far as listening went. The words of the poem haunted her in a way that she liked, with the same sort of warmth she’d felt earlier with Lou in the bookstore and while reading the poem in Artemis’ Light, and then once more while listening to the Cris Williamson song.

As she laid in bed after washing up and setting out her clothes for the next day and sliding her bookstore purchases into her desk drawer beneath her stationery set, Harry whispered her favorite words from the poem she’d listened to nine times over, deciding she’d speak them like a prayer for the next nine days: a lesbian novena. She wondered for a moment if her mother could sense the blasphemy from several states away, then realized she didn’t want to care. She followed it up with just one line from the poem she’d read to herself, thinking they went together nicely as an intention for how she wanted to live her life.

That night she dreamed of walking through fire hand in hand with Louis, waking in the morning with her blankets kicked off and still feeling warm.

“How they lived in the world,

the women-loving-women

learned as much as they were allowed

and walked and wore their clothes

the way they liked

whenever they could. They did whatever

they knew to be happy or free

and worked and worked and worked.

The women-loving-women

in America were called dykes

and some liked it

and some did not.

they made love to each other

the best they knew how

and for the best reasons”

“It’s been so long, maybe we’re fireproof.”

Chapter Text

Louis walked at a clip down Bowery. Her hair, only lightly toweled off and still wet from the quick shower she’d taken, dropped a fat bead of water down her cheek that she brushed off with a little shake of her head. She’d changed out of her usual uniform of feminist t-shirt and jeans and into a pair of corduroy trousers and a button down shirt with a leather vest on top. She’d tried not to overthink it, but as she felt the scrape of the corduroy rubbing together while she walked she could hardly help it. This was probably too much. Or maybe not enough? She couldn’t really be sure.

Since meeting Harry the previous week, she’d spent nearly every day half hoping and half dreading her coming back into the bookstore. The hope came from thinking of her smile, and the way they’d talked that night. It wasn’t as though Louis didn’t have plenty of friends; she got along well enough with the women she’d published magazines with and could always find a friend at any lesbian or gay bar without too much effort. But she didn’t connect with people like she had with Harry. She’d felt a spark, or at least thought she had. The question was: did Harry feel it too?

That question had been the source of endless talks every day since. She’d started with Niall the next morning, first asking about her night had gone and then, when Niall asked the same, launching into a blow by blow of Harry coming in for the event.

“Ya told ‘er about Zayn’s concert, right? Gave her a flyer?” Niall interrupted just as Louis was really beginning her tale.

“Yes, obviously. We’d just talked about it, and I wanted her to come back here.” Louis picked up Niall’s coffee mug from where it was left in front of her and took a sip from it, earning a disgusted huff from Niall, who walked back upstairs to make herself another cup of coffee.

“So you met a girl and she’s coming next week. Why didn’t you ask her out?” Niall said as soon as she’d settled back in with a new mug, this one cupped in her hands as if it were a precious treasure to be guarded from Louis the thief.

Louis thought of Harry again, the tentative way she’d carried herself in contrast to her bravery in setting foot inside the bookstore alone and then how careful she’d been about what she’d chosen to buy. “She’s not someone you just ask out. She’s more complicated than that. We should know each other first.”

“Knowin’ a name is plenty for a first date. Take her to Kit’s and buy her a drink. Have a dance. Talk about whether you’d live together down here or if you’d try for something closer to The Stonewall.” Niall grinned mischievously. “You know, the usual first date material.”

Niall continued to tease Louis about her hesitance until Liam and Zayn came in later that afternoon for a women’s music discussion group they’d set up. They were early, and Louis had eagerly offered to help them bring out chairs and fill the urn with hot water for tea or instant coffee for the women who were coming. As they worked, Louis told them what she could about Harry, grateful that unlike Niall they didn’t seem set on making fun.

“What’d she buy?” Zayn asked. She’d paused from moving chairs to work her long black hair into a loose braid that curled around her neck. “Anything exciting?”

Louis bit her lip, holding back a pleased smile. “Lesbian Concentrate and Dyke Quarterly. And, um. The winter issue of Artemis’ Light.” Zayn turned, widening her eyes.

“Your issue?” She went back to getting the chairs into a semi-circle. “Did you tell her anything?”

“It’s not my issue,” Louis said, shaking her head. “I have one poem and a short essay in there.” She looked up from the papers she was sorting to see Zayn staring back at her. “What? It’s hardly anything. And I might’ve kind of made her get that issue instead of the other. Told her it was better.”

“It’s the truth,” Zayn said with a shrug. “She’s probably read your poem by now. It’s right there in the center of the issue, pretty much the first thing you open to.” Louis blew out a breath and wrinkled her nose.

“She won’t even know it’s me. I publish under my initials. You know that.”

“Hello, my lover.” Liam bent down and kissed the top of Zayn’s head and rested her hands on Zayn’s shoulders. “Are we almost ready? Theresa and June said they were coming, and I assume Barbara will come too, and she’s always early.” She looked over at Louis, brown eyes full of warmth and mild curiosity. “Sorry Louis, did I interrupt?”

“Louis was just telling me about someone she met yesterday and is already pining after. She bought Louis’ issue of Artemis’ Light, but doesn’t have any idea.” Zayn rested her head against Liam’s belly to look up at her, smiling when their eyes met. Liam bent down and gave her another kiss as Louis sighed dramatically, pretending to be annoyed by their public displays of affection.

“You should come over and let me do your cards,” Zayn said a moment later. “Liam’s got these beautiful spring lettuces and a few herbs that have finally made their entrance in the garden. You’d make a salad, wouldn’t you, lover?” Liam nodded, smiling down at Zayn beatifically. “Liam will make a salad, and I’ll make something too. Dinner and tarot.”

Louis sighed and nodded her head, never able to turn down a free meal. “She’s coming to your show next week, so you should get to meet her then. And I could come over for dinner on Thursday, if you’re free.” The date set, the women’s music group came in and Louis scuttled off to the front of the store to handle the few customers who stopped in, half listening in on the discussion of the group in back and then fully listening when they started singing together. They were putting one of Judy Grahn’s poems to music, and Louis rested her chin in her hand, closing her eyes and pulling out Zayn’s voice from the rest, appreciating her clear, bright tone and the way, in particular, that she sang the word ‘women.’

Dinner with Zayn and Liam had gone just as she’d expected it to. Liam sang a song of thanks to the lettuces before she picked them as Zayn shook up the dressing in an old jar to give the song a bit of a percussive backbeat. The salad was green and leafy, and Louis forced herself to chew it up and swallow it after pouring on what might’ve been a bit too much green goddess dressing. She couldn’t bear to tell either of her friends how much she loathed salad when it clearly made them so happy to prepare it.

Their main dish was something with tofu and nuts and mushrooms; Louis didn’t ask for details and instead just focused on the fact that it had a pleasantly chewy texture and a decent flavor from the generous pour of soy sauce that Zayn had used on it near the end. When they’d finished, Liam cleared the table while Zayn and Louis moved to the couch, Zayn spreading her cloth and then her cards out on the coffee table in front of them.

“There’s definitely someone coming into your life who’s going to change things for you,” Zayn said as she studied the spread in front of her. “And I’m seeing a lot of the divine feminine here. Someone energetically your match, but different from you in many ways.” She ran her fingers delicately over the cards and closed her eyes. “Twin flames,” she breathed contentedly. “I truly can’t wait to meet this womon.”

Meanwhile, Niall continued to tease Louis through the weekend, occasionally standing behind her when a woman would enter the store to whisper, “is that her?” so that Louis would jump or drop her pen. Afterwards, she’d cackle to herself and ruffle Louis’ hair. “Oh don’t worry, Louis. You’ll know it’s her when the angels start singing.” That particular comment earned her an elbow to the ribs which due to bad luck and bad aim, ended up being an elbow to the tit that made Niall back off for the rest of the night.

On Monday, Louis had sat down with Niall at midday to have a serious talk. “Alright, Niall. I’m being serious now. No joking, right?” Niall nodded back, a solemn look on her face even as her blue eyes sparkled with mirth. She was wearing a cap, which she took off and held over her heart for a moment.

“I swear I’ll be serious,” she said, head bowed. She put her cap back on and looked up questioningly.

“I’d like to leave early tomorrow so I can have a shower and change. In case Harry shows up.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah? I’d usually help set up, but I was hoping I could go at 3 and be back by 5? But I could go a bit earlier if that’s--”

“Louis.” Niall put her hand on Louis’ shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “I’ll tease ya forever but I can see you’re excited about Harry. It won’t be busy till closer to 6 anyway. Come back at 5:30 dressed sharp.” Louis was about to thank her when when Niall put a hand over Louis’ mouth. “No, no, don’t say anythin’, just keep up that I’m a tough dyke who takes no shit from anyone. I’ve been workin’ on that image for almost twenty years now.”

That was easy enough to do. Louis slipped out on Tuesday afternoon with a little nod at Niall, who winked back at her, and walked back to her apartment on 4th Street. It was a tiny place with every bit of furniture that Louis owned in one room, the suggestion of a kitchen against one wall and a bathroom just barely fit the tub, toilet, and sink without stacking them atop one another. But the only windows looked out over a tiny patch of community garden, and in the summer if she really tried Louis could almost smell the tomatoes that grew down there, so it all sort of evened out.

She’d showered and toweled off and rubbed the slightest bit of a cedar and sandalwood oil blend behind her ears and through her hair, considering styling it for a brief moment before realizing she didn’t even own any products that would let her style it, let alone know how to actually make her hair do something other than swish across her forehead. She tapped a kiss to a picture she kept up of her Aunt Ruth, the first lesbian she’d ever known and the only member of her family that she’d talked to after leaving home at 18. “Let’s hope she shows up, huh Ruth?” She locked up her apartment and headed for the door, anxious to make it back to the bookstore on time.

She finally reached the bookstore and pulled the door open just as a few drops of rain began to fall from the suddenly darkening sky. Inside, Niall was already helping Liam set up the microphone that Zayn had brought along for the show. The truth was that the bookstore wasn’t exactly the best venue for a concert, but Niall tended to overlook that fact for friends. Zayn was known widely enough that her name could draw a crowd, and when she chose to have an opening act she’d often get a slight increase in her numbers. Niall had baked cookies and had them ready to sell for a small profit along with charging women a small amount for cups of tea or coffee.

“I’m back. Where d’you need me?” Louis swiped her hair off her forehead and looked between Liam and Niall, who had stopped their work to smile at her.

“You look good, Louis. I can’t wait to meet Harry later.” Liam had her usual wide grin as she gave Louis a once over. Louis rolled her eyes and spread her hands, waiting for Niall’s comments.

“Can borrow a hat, if ya want. I’ve got a few upstairs.” She reached out and brushed her hand through the front of Louis’ hair, sweeping it aside a bit. Louis swatted her away.

“I also have hats, thank you very much, Niall. I thought it might be overkill given the rest of what I’m wearing.” Louis fixed Niall with a hard look, and Niall shrugged in return before turning back to the sound equipment.

“It’s your look. You know I prefer the more dapper approach.”

It was true, Niall usually wore nice trousers and button downs and a cap, and one time Louis had seen her in a full on suit, silver hair styled into a ducktail and a tie done up at her collar. She didn’t dress that way for the bookstore, mostly because a few of the women who came in called it a patriarchal head trip. Louis’ clothes usually passed muster, and Liam’s would if she ever put herself in the spotlight instead of staying behind the scenes. But anything too masculine or feminine was immediately criticized, the wearer expected to fix their mistakes for the next time.

“Well, if all you two have for me are comments on my clothing, I’ll go help Zayn. I’m sure she needs me.” Louis headed toward the door to Niall’s apartment, opening it carefully to keep Sappho in. “You’re not allowed out during events, lady. You know the rules.” Sappho meowed back at her, a long and plaintive whine, and Louis shook her head. “It won’t work, sorry. Where’s Zayn, hm?”

“By the mirror. Come up!”

Louis followed the cat up the stairs and found Zayn standing in Niall’s bathroom, her long purple dress looking completely out of place against the stark white of the tile. “Looks like you should be performing for faeries in the woods and not a bunch of dykes in a bookstore,” she said, accepting the hug that Zayn gave her.

Zayn laughed and shook her head, picking up the soft layers of crepey cotton and letting them fall back down to her ankles. “The day felt purple. And then the rain started to fall and it all made sense. I’ll do ‘Rainberry’ and ‘Slender Wet Branches’ maybe.” She nodded toward the front room and Louis let her take the lead, following her to the couch. “Will you do breathing exercises with me?” Louis agreed, taking in breaths and releasing them as Zayn instructed before they moved onto standing and doing vocal warm-ups.

“It’s nearly time. I’ll go down, make sure everything’s ready. It’s just you, today?”

“Mm, I think Pam is singing just two songs. Maybe three. But if she’s not here, then it’s me.” Zayn sat down, letting her dress fall around her. “Let me know. I’ll do a bit more breathing.”

Louis walked out into the bookstore and immediately realized that she’d spent all that time with Zayn not thinking about seeing Harry at all. Of course, that only increased the little thrill that went through her as she looked around the room, hoping to spot Harry. She finally saw her right in the middle of the crowd, sat cross-legged on a cushion. A blonde woman with large frame glasses and a guitar stood at the mic, already introducing her first song.

“I’m Pam, and this song is ‘The Woman in Your Life,’” she said, beginning to strum the guitar. As the women in the crowd swayed along, Louis did her best to make eye contact with Harry, since there was certainly no way she could get next to her. A hand on her shoulder made Louis turn in surprise only to find Liam there, staring past her.

“So, where’s Harry? Is she here?” As Liam searched the crowd, Harry looked up and spotted Louis, a smile breaking out across her face. Louis lifted her fingers in a wave and Harry ducked her head in return before giving her attention back to the performer. “Oh, was she the one who smiled at you? Oh, she likes you.”

“Can you cool it, please? There’s a performer up there.” Louis nodded toward Pam, who’d just played the last notes of her first song and was taking in the applause and hoots of the crowd.

“Did we find ‘er?” Niall popped up behind Liam, seemingly from nowhere, and began scanning the crowd. Harry looked over again and Niall spotted her, poking Louis in the ribs. “That’s her, innit? With the brown curls? Looks pretty high class, Louis. You shoulda worn one of my hats.”

Harry widened her eyes at Louis and moved her head to the side as if to say she could see Louis’ friends there. Louis shrugged her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping she was hiding her embarrassment well.

“Shouldn’t one of you go get Zayn? Let her know she’s got one more song before her set?” Louis bumped her shoulder against Liam’s; she immediately conceded. Niall stayed next to Louis to watch Pam’s final song, then put her arm around her shoulder, leaning in to tell her she needed to go sell cookies and tea while they waited for Zayn to come down.

Zayn was downstairs in no time at all, tuning her guitar and checking the mic while Louis sat at a small table in the back where the urn was set up and Niall’s cookies were laid out. As the crowd of women thinned out, most returning to their previous spots, Harry appeared at the table. She was wearing a dress and stockings, and her hair was pinned on the sides, falling loose down her back. She looked better than Louis remembered.

“You came,” Louis said, trying to hold back her over enthused smile. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I try to keep my promises. And I’ve only listened to a little women’s music, so I had to come hear something new.” Harry turned to look over her shoulder. “Some of the women were talking about Zayn when I sat down. She’s well known?”

Louis peeked past Harry and noticed Zayn taking her usual centering breaths. “She’s about to start, and it’s a bit of a long story. Come with us after the show?” Her heart raced as she tried to seem casual, still looking past Harry. She only lasted a few moments before she broke, locking eyes with Harry. She couldn’t hold in her smile as she asked, “please?”

Harry nodded, fast, but didn’t say anything, looking toward the seated women and then turning back to Louis.

“Follow me, we can sit on the side.” Louis offered her hand to Harry, who let their fingers entwine as she stepped around the table, following Louis behind Zayn’s sound set up and to the other side of the bookstore where the shelves had been pushed to make room for more centralized seating. “There’s no cushions, but there’s plenty of room,” Louis said as she sat down. Harry came right along with her, settling fairly close to her side. She still hadn’t let go of Louis’ hand.

****************

Harry had arrived at the bookstore out of breath and feeling terribly overdressed. She’d come from work uptown, not stopping home to change for fear that she’d be late. Over the past week she’d looked at the flyer Louis had handed her no less than a hundred times, burning the correct date and time into her memory so that she wouldn’t need to write it down, but that only made her sense of urgency greater. The thought of being late or missing the whole thing entirely had actually shocked her awake twice the night before. As she walked in she smoothed her hand over her dress and shook the raindrops out of her hair, hoping that if she looked less rumpled maybe it would transfer into how she felt. It didn’t work.

She looked around for Louis first, trying her best to appear casual but feeling like she must be the picture of desperation. And out of place; the women who were milling around were mostly dressed like Louis had been the week before, in jeans and t-shirts or soft looking flannels, most clearly lacking a bra. Harry hunched her shoulders a bit, wishing she could fold herself down to the size of a mouse and sneak through the crowd, maybe hide alongside a Virginia Woolf novel to watch the show with a friend of her own.

As it was, everyone seemed to be there with someone else, either several friends or a lover. She ended up taking a seat on a cushion near a couple who were holding one another, the taller of the two of them sat with her legs spread while the shorter woman nestled between them, leaning her back against the other woman’s front. They turned to look at Harry in unison when she sat down, and she gave them her best smile, which they each returned with a half-hearted smile followed by a curious look at one another.

A few more women gathered near her, all chatting and catching up with one another. There were at least four of them, which felt like more people than Harry could handle meeting at once like this. Instead she opened her bag and pulled out the issue of Artemis’ Light that Louis had bought for her. She’d read it through a half dozen times already, but she’d been dying to discuss it with someone, and though she’d tried not to get her hopes up, she wanted that someone to be Louis.

She flipped to the essay at the end of the magazine and started reading it again as the women sat down, making room for one another. One bumped into Harry’s back, turning to say “sorry, sister,” before resuming the conversation she was having with her other friends. Harry tried to concentrate on the essay, but gave up when she heard one of the women say Zayn’s name. Maybe these were friends of Louis’ if they were talking about Zayn? She allowed herself to listen in to what they were saying.

“I mean I can’t believe Womon's Direction would invite Zayn at all, but it’s not like this place is trying to actually be the safe space we need, right? Niall practically dresses like a man anyway. She’s caught up in that way of thinking.”

“Yeah, some women just aren’t there yet and some never will be. Typical penis trap.”

The women all laughed, and Harry felt her stomach twist as she tried to take in everything they were saying.

“I mean I for one can’t believe Liam would date him. Such a strong, beautiful woman. We lived together upstate for a while and she was such a dream. On Womonheart, remember? She led the harvest for two seasons while she was dating Marcy. Mm.” She paused for a moment, seeming to be enjoying the memory as Harry absentmindedly flipped the page in front of her. “It’s awful to lose her.”

“Well, we’ll leave after Pam plays. I haven’t listened to a man singing this year and I’m not starting now.” Harry swallowed hard, her throat suddenly gone dry. None of what they were saying made sense.

“Zayn has a few good songs, though. Um, the one about natural love? I wouldn’t mind hearing it if--”

“Honestly Alice, if you’re a traitor too--”

“No, I mean I’ve heard the song. We should see if Pam will play it. I’ll bet it’s all from a woman’s ideas anyway.”

“That’s what they do. Take our shit and-- oh!”

The women started clapping and Harry looked up to see a blonde woman walking up to the microphone with her guitar in hand. Harry glanced around the room, now looking for a man instead of Louis even as she caught on to what the women had been saying. It was Zayn who they thought was a man. Harry chewed at her lip, studying the carpet in front of her as a million questions raced through her mind.

At the front of the crowd, Pam began introducing her first song. It was soft and pretty, and Harry allowed herself to take a breath and put aside her questions. If Louis was here, maybe she could explain things a bit better. With that thought, Harry looked up and scanned the room, this time looking for Louis once more. She found her quickly, standing off to one side of the room with another woman who looked about her age. She was a bit taller than Louis and broader, with a tan and shaggy brown hair. A smile broke out over Harry’s face when she and Louis locked eyes, and when Louis wiggled her fingers in the semblance of a wave, a warm blush broke out over Harry’s face and she ducked her head, not wanting Louis or her friends to see.

When Pam began her second song and Harry felt as though her blush had faded, she chanced another look at Louis. Another woman had joined Louis, this one with silver hair and a slightly rounder form. She was looking straight at Harry, and gave her a wink that Louis couldn’t see. When she and Louis locked eyes again, she raised her brows and pretended to look around Louis as if to say, “I see your friends!” It was Louis’ turn to blush this time.

The next time Harry looked over, part way through Pam’s third song, Louis had disappeared. She craned her neck to try and spot her, and almost gave up until she saw Louis’ silver haired friend again. The woman gestured with her thumb toward the back of the store, a little smirk on her lips as she did so. Harry gave her a thumbs up sign in return, holding back a giggle.

As the women stood and applauded for Pam, Harry gathered her things in the hopes of milling around and finding Louis. She got a better look at the women she’d been sitting in front of, thinking that maybe she could describe them later and understand what they’d been talking about. It didn’t take long for Harry to spot Louis. She was at a table in the back, selling refreshments and chatting amiably with nearly every woman who approached the table. They all seemed to know her, and for a moment Harry felt a little burst of heat in her gut, a mixture of envy and annoyance that she shoved down with a slight clenching of her fist.

“Pardon me, please,” a woman said, her fingertips brushing against Harry’s shoulder lightly. Harry shifted, turning to apologize, and found herself face to face with a gorgeous woman with high cheekbones and light brown skin. She smiled back at Harry as if they were old friends, and Harry couldn’t help but return the look before she realized she should apologize.

“Oh! Sorry! I was waiting to talk to my--” friend? acquaintance? crush? Harry struggled to choose the right word “--someone. Didn’t mean to block your way.”

“Don’t apologize for the space you inhabit, sister,” the woman said. The words made Harry stop and inhale deeply, holding her breath for a moment before she could respond. When she did, all she could say was thank you, to which the woman nodded and smiled again before continuing on her way. By then, the crowd around the table had thinned and Harry realized it was her chance to approach.

It seemed as though Louis was waiting for her; that she had even been eager to see her. As she asked Harry to join her and her friends after the show and reached out her hand to lead Harry off to sit beside her, it occurred to Harry that Louis might actually be interested in her. The thought turned Harry’s palms sweaty and made her want to giggle wildly. She tried her best to tamp it down to something manageable, but instead found herself noting the places that their legs brushed against one another as she bit back her grin.

When she finally focused on the performer in front of her, she realized that the woman she’d spoken with before talking to Louis was Zayn. She watched, entranced, as Zayn moved to the rhythm of the song she was singing, her long hair pulled back into a loose braid that left soft tendrils to frame her face. She sang from her soul, her voice at once earthy and deep and light like honey.

“She’s amazing,” Harry whispered to Louis. Louis just turned and nodded back at her, holding her gaze just long enough that Harry forgot to breathe. When Zayn finished the song, Louis gave Harry’s hand a light squeeze before releasing it to clap. Harry missed the loss of Louis’ fingers next to hers, but it only lasted for a moment before Louis was sliding her palm over Harry’s again.

“You said she’s amazing,” Louis whispered as Zayn tuned her guitar, “but she’s really ama-Zayn. That was going to be the title of her album. Like a play on amazing and amazon and her name.”

Harry took note, trying to keep everything she’d heard in her mind so she could ask Louis for details later. In the meantime, she took a chance and moved a bit closer to Louis, their thighs pressed fully together by the time she was done. If Louis minded, it didn’t show. She stroked Harry’s hand with her thumb, her touch so light that if Harry hadn’t been hyperfocused on their every point of contact she might’ve missed it. As it was, she could think of little else.

She did watch the rest of Zayn’s performance, though, curious when Zayn paused between songs and took several long pulls of water before pouring a bit out of her glass and over her fingers, at which point she flicked the moisture into the air and let a few drops settle on her face. “Our Mother has blessed us today with beautiful rain. The rain of life, of newness, her tears to cleanse our own. This song is called ‘Rainberry,’ and I wrote it at a time when I needed such a rain.” A few of the women hummed in response, and Harry let her head rest on Louis’ shoulder as she closed her eyes to listen.

“She’s a treasure,” Harry whispered when the song was done. “I don’t--” she stopped herself, not wanting to get into what the women had said until after Zayn’s set was over. Louis had already turned to her with a look of confusion, and Harry shook her head. “Later,” she said before glancing at Louis’ shoulder and getting a nod of confirmation that yes, she should rest her head there again. She stayed like that through the rest of the show.

“Well?” Louis asked once Zayn had sung her final song and the women were beginning to get up and mingle with one another. “I can tell you liked it, but I have to know something. Was that your first women’s concert?” Harry nodded.

“It was and I loved it,” she said all at once. “The first woman was good, but Zayn…” she trailed off, not quite able to find the words for how much she’d liked not only Zayn’s music but her energy, her style, almost everything she could see about her. “She was more than I could’ve expected.” Harry’s questions about her swirled in her mind, and though she wanted to start asking them she felt her stomach dip at the actual thought of it.

“I have to tell you the whole story, it’s really wild,” Louis said, leaning her back against one of the bookshelves they were sitting behind.

“You could give me the short version?”

Louis ran a hand through her hair, mussing it perfectly. “Short version is that Zayn was part of Olivia Records-- you know Olivia, right?” Harry nodded, waiting for Louis to continue. “So she was a part of it from the beginning, and the other women loved working with her. But this one woman, she’s a real trip, completely-- just completely --not what feminism or sisterhood is about,” Louis started to grow red in the face, her tone more clipped than before, and Harry watched her intently. “She started writing letters, making threats to Olivia. She got a few other loud women on board and it got worse until Zayn decided to leave to make it easier on everyone. Had to cancel her record, too.”

“Why her?” Harry asked. “I don’t understand it. Was it a, um,” Harry glanced around, moving closer to Louis, “race thing?” Louis hesitated.

“That wasn’t what they attacked her for, no. The woman-- Janice --and her followers went after Zayn because she’s transsexual.” Louis paused, and Harry nodded at her, hoping she’d continue. “Do you know what that means?” The look in Louis’ eyes was soft and understanding, and so Harry shook her head, hoping that she wouldn’t be judged too harshly. She’d only just started reading and learning about what it meant to be a feminist and a lesbian, and though she’d devoured it all there was so much she didn’t know. The feeling of being behind almost made her dizzy. She hated it.

“Alright, I’m going to give you the short version of this too, and then we’ll see about getting you some things to read. There’s not much, but we have a few things.” Louis scratched her head, ruffling her hair again, and Harry purposefully made herself look her in the eye to quell the desire to put her own hands there. “So Zayn was born a man, and when she was pretty young she figured out she was a woman. She did all that she could to be true to herself, and the way I see it she’s as much a woman as you or me.”

Harry nodded, though she knew she didn’t entirely understand. Had the women behind her been right? Had she stolen women’s ideas or pretended to be like them to get more power? Was she secretly hoping to take down feminists and lesbians one by one? It didn’t fit with the woman she’d spoken to, however briefly, who had told her to take up space as a woman. And it didn’t make sense when Harry considered her songs, either. She didn’t talk about loving women the way that men did, like they were objects to be admired or hated, played with until they ceased to be fun. She sang about women living and crying and loving one another.

“Harry?” Louis’ voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts, and she gasped, coming back to herself. “Your thoughts really show on your face,” Louis said with a laugh behind her voice. “Are you alright? You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer as best I can. And Zayn might talk with you too, once you’ve gotten to know one another.”

“I--” Harry sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Can we start with dinner, maybe? Niall cooked, so it’s just upstairs.”

“Yes.” Harry let the word burst out so that she wouldn’t think herself into a no. “I’d love to.” She followed Louis through the bookstore, helping move everything back to its proper place and throwing away a few things that were left on the floor. She overheard Louis talking with her friends, saying something about inviting her to dinner, and she quickly scurried away, pretending to see a stray napkin on the other side of the room.

Niall was standing right in front of Harry when she turned around to find a trash can. “Harry? Great to meet ya!” She moved to put her arm around Harry and began to lead her toward a door on the other side of the room. “I’m Niall, by the way. This is my place, even if Louis made it seem like she does all the work. You’re joinin’ us for dinner, yeah?”

There was something about Niall that put Harry immediately at ease. It may have simply been her presence-- the way she carried herself as though she were completely comfortable with every part of herself --but it felt like something more. Harry relaxed under the weight of Niall’s arm around her shoulder and smiled. “Yes, if you don’t mind another person.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Niall said, shaking her head, “I’m Irish. When we cook we make enough food to feed at least double what we’re expectin’. One more mouth is nothing.” She let Harry walk in front of her up the narrow staircase, talking all the way up.

Louis had plates in hand when they reached the apartment, while her other friends were pulling a table out from its spot against the wall and opening up the leaves to create a table big enough for five. She balanced the plates against her arm, giving Harry a thumbs up with her free hand. “We stirred the crock pot, Ni. Smells great.”

Niall puffed up a bit, clearly happy with the praise. “It better. That colcannon recipe was Mam’s favorite, and I’ve never heard a single complaint about it.”

Louis set the plates down on the table and turned back to Harry. “Enough about Niall’s dinner.” Niall scoffed and Louis rolled her eyes. “We’ll all spend half the meal complimenting it anyway. And since you’ve already met Niall, I’d like you to meet these two. Harry, this is Liam and Zayn.”

“Hi,” Harry said, moving to tuck a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for letting me join you. And, well, Zayn-- your show was beautiful. I think I could’ve listened to you all night.”

Zayn laughed and shook her head. “That’s kind of you, Harry. I could tell that you and Lou were enjoying the show together. And it’ll be lovely to have dinner with you, won’t it Liam?” Liam put her arm around Zayn’s waist, a wide grin on her face.

“It will, my love. We’re both so glad to meet you after everything Louis has told us about you.” Louis cleared her throat and gave Liam a look, but Harry found herself blushing, playing with the seam at the side of her dress and trying to avoid Louis’ gaze, in case it was on her. It felt good to know that Louis really had been talking about her since they’d met, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. Would they absolutely hate her? There was no way to know but to have dinner and hope for the best.

Chapter Text

Louis woke up feeling like the world was made of light and sugar and every lovely thing combined. The sunlight filtered in through the curtains she had hanging over her windows, and she threw her blanket back, happy to welcome the day. She’d not only seen Harry yesterday, she’d had dinner with her. And made a date for the future. And she’d determined pretty quickly that Harry really was as lovely as she’d seemed upon their first meeting.

When they’d talked after Zayn’s performance, Louis had been a little worried. She’d met a few women in her time at the bookstore who seemed perfectly wonderful until they revealed that they hated Zayn and any women like her, and when Harry had expressed her confusion over it she had a moment of worrying that Harry would be like them. Then she remembered that she, too, had known very little at first. Niall had been the one to help her at that time, offering stories of her own experiences-- in underground clubs, at the Stonewall riots, and throughout the communities she’d been a part of --and explaining that she’d learned to accept people for who they said they were, even if she didn’t understand it at first.

Of course, Louis gave Zayn a bit of warning. She watched Harry hanging back, scampering off to the other side of the store when Louis started talking with Niall and the others, and she ended up sending Niall to invite her up, taking Zayn aside and mentioning that there had been some women talking about her and that Harry had overheard.

“She’s definitely pretty ignorant here, and I want you to know that if she says anything that oversteps any boundaries, you have my support. I’ll say something. We can have a sign if you’d like?”

Zayn had sighed and shook her head a bit. “I’ve dealt with a lot these past few years. If she thought what those wimmin were saying was harsh or unwarranted, I’ll try to give her the benefit of the doubt.” She’d rested her hand on Louis’ shoulder and given a slight squeeze. “But I like knowing you’d speak up for me, Lou. You’re a good womon.”

Fortunately, it hadn’t been too much of a problem. Harry mostly listened, only adding bits to the conversation when someone asked her a question until they started talking about art and poetry and writing. Then Harry became more animated, sharing her own thoughts on her favorites and asking for more details when someone new to her was brought up.

“Adrienne Rich, of course. Oh, and Judy Grahn, she’s amazing. And,” Harry had tapped at her lower lip, lost in thought, and even the memory of it now made Louis’ face scrunch up with fondness, “Audre Lorde? I only heard about her recently. But what I’ve read has been beautiful.”

“You’re a poet, then?” Zayn had asked her. “Or do you just enjoy poetry the most?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a poet, no. Though I guess I do write poetry. But then I sing a bit as well and would never call myself a singer. I’ve never really shared anything I’ve written. It’s not like I think I could write enough to be in a magazine. Maybe I could do something small. A mimeo or something.”

Zayn had given Louis a look while Harry wasn’t watching. A little raise of the eyebrows that seemed to say, “if you tell her you’ve published your poetry, even with a tiny underground women’s press, she’s going to think you’re amazing.” Louis had ignored her of course and instead decided to tease Harry a bit. “You came in here saying you’d never been to a women’s bookstore, but you’ve read most of the classics. And it’s not as though you’ve not heard of a lot of the newer women we’re talking about either. What gives, Harriet?”

“Pleaaaase don’t call me Harriet,” Harry had said, covering her face with her hands. “Makes me think of my mother.”

Of course Louis didn’t push any further with that, even though Harry’s face when she blushed was adorable. Instead they’d talked more about music and books, about Liam’s time on women’s land upstate and how Niall came to open a women’s bookstore. Harry had been curious and respectful and, Louis thought as she stretched her arms overhead and yawned, as wonderful as she had seemed from the beginning.

When dinner was over, Louis had walked her downstairs and unlocked the gate to stand with her outside. “It’s too late for the subway,” she’d said as they stood on the sidewalk together. Most of the foot traffic had died down, and though it was barely 10 o’clock at night the city had felt quieter than usual.

They’d ended up walking a few blocks together, their hands brushing for a block or so before Louis had made the leap and taken Harry’s hand in her own. A thrill rushed through her when Harry had tightened her grip moments later, ducking her head to smile at Louis through the curls that were falling around her face. Even lying in bed and thinking about it hours later left Louis feeling like she could float or fly.

“Would you like to go out next week?” Louis had asked her when they were getting close to parting ways. She’d spilled it out fast, hopeful that she knew the answer but scared at the same time, looking at Harry’s face only after a beat of silence had lasted too long.

When their eyes met, Harry’s open mouth and dazed expression shifted and she’d nodded her head, saying, “Yes, yes, I’d love that,” and grinning at Louis. “Do you want to call me? Or I could call you? Or-- sorry, I haven’t done this a lot.” Even with just the light from the streetlights it was obvious that Harry was blushing. Louis felt nothing but endeared.

They’d traded numbers, Louis promising to call to make a plan before putting Harry into a cab and making sure she was safely on her way and getting dropped off right outside her door. In the brief walk to her own apartment, Louis had to restrain herself from skipping, she’d felt so excited.

And now she was waking up with the same feeling singing through her, and it made her want to squish her toes into the mattress and pull her sheets over her head. Like she was a coiled spring about to pop up into the late April sun and release blinding rays of light on her own. She grabbed her journal and pen from beside her bed and began writing all her feelings down, words spilling out of her onto the page in the shape and sound of Harry-- her voice and her eyes and her laugh, the excitement she showed at any new piece of lesbiana that crossed her path, the curiosity she held about the world around her --every bit of her.

She laid like that for an hour, just putting her jumbled thoughts down in writing in the middle of her bed, until her need for breakfast (and coffee) got to be too much for her to bear. She toasted a bagel and smeared it with cream cheese, then turned on WBAI for her favorite poetry show. The host was talking with someone Louis hadn’t heard of, so she ended up sitting by her window, soaking up the sunshine and listening quietly before she had anywhere to be.

By the time she turned off the radio and threw on her usual jeans and t-shirt, giving her hair a fluff in the mirror, it was getting close to noon. She eyed Harry’s phone number hanging on her cork board, and considered calling her right then. It would be easy. And the worst that could happen was that she wouldn’t be in. Louis picked up her phone and dialled carefully, tracing the partial circles of the dial slower than she might usually and psyching herself up each time she released it to let it click back to its start.

Harry wasn’t home, of course, but Louis let the phone ring a few times anyway, trying to imagine what Harry’s apartment might look like. Was it big or small? Did she have a lot of furniture? Louis imagined plants and a little window box with flowers. A macrame basket hanging with onions and fruit in it. Maybe a record player in the corner, playing The Changer and the Changed while Harry danced with Louis, their arms around each others’ waists. The last bit was wishful thinking, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

When she’d finally made her way to the bookstore, she was greeted first by Sappho’s excited meow and then by Niall calling out a “wey-hey” from behind a set of shelves. A couple of women who were browsing the fiction section looked toward Louis and she gave them a wave, heading over to stop Niall from shouting anymore.

“Well, how’d it go?” Niall said as she sorted through a stack of books someone had donated to the store. “Just get outta bed and roll over here?” She gave Louis a lecherous wink, and Louis shook her head, choosing to flick Niall’s cap off her head in way of an answer. That didn’t seem to deter her, though. “C’mon Lou, it’s not like I’m askin’ for details, just bein’ encouraging.”

“Get off your weird head trips, Ni. Harry’s not a conquest, you know. She’s--” Louis searched for the right word, tripping over the obvious ones like brilliant, fantastic, amazing, far out, right on, and such before deciding she couldn’t possibly sum her up in one word. There was just something so intriguing about a woman who, in spite of taking her time to get there, seemed so ready to leap into knowing herself, even if it was overwhelming. Louis admired it. “Special,” she said, finally settling on something that didn’t even begin to encompass how excited she was about Harry.

“Ooh, special .” Niall put a hand over her chest and feigned shock. “Never would’ve guessed from the way you’ve been acting since meeting her a whole entire week ago.”

Louis rolled her eyes and nudged at one of Niall’s book piles with her foot so that it wobbled, nearly toppling over. “So I’m excited. She’s exciting, alright?” Niall steadied the stack of books with one hand and gave Louis’ sneakered foot a tap to get her to move it.

“I’m only teasing. We all liked her, you know. Zayn and Liam want to have the two of you over for dinner already, and I was thinkin’ about seeing if you wanted to bring her out to the Stonewall 8 planning meeting next month, since it’s mostly men right now and we need some good fresh voices.”

At that, Louis leaned back against a shelf and smiled, too pleased by everything Niall had just said to do anything else. Her friends didn’t just like Harry, they seemed eager to include her. They hadn’t felt that way about any of the other people Louis had made attempts at dating, probably because Louis herself hadn’t felt any sort of way about those women. The difference felt good.

“Sooo,” Niall said, slapping a copy of “Sisterhood is Powerful” down on one of the already tall piles of books, “when are you seeing her next? Tonight? Tomorrow?” She pulled a book from the donation box and grunted, tossing it aside. “Are you cookin’ for her? What’s the date?”

“We didn’t actually make the plan last night,” Louis said, looking over her shoulder toward the counter and hoping that she was needed over there. She wasn’t; the women from the fiction section were still right where they had been when she’d walked in the door. She turned back to see Niall looking up at her with her lips pursed.

“You didn’t make the date with her?” She shook her head and added another book to a pile. “Do you at least know what you plan to do? Where you’ll take her, if you’ll offer to pay or not, that sort of thing?” When Louis didn’t respond immediately, Niall huffed, sitting back on her haunches. “Do you need help with it?” She sounded gruff, but Louis could practically feel her self-satisfaction in the words.

Louis sighed. “Do you want to help me?” She looked back down at Niall, who was now picking through the books in the donation box carefully. “Please?” At that, Niall laughed to herself and sprung up.

“Of course I’m gonna help you, Lou. It’s what any good dyke of a certain age should do for the younger folk.” She abandoned the donation box and her piles and settled into one of the chairs near the counter. “So. What were you thinkin?”

“Something really good,” Louis said, flopping down into the chair next to Niall. Sappho jumped into her lap and Louis scratched the cat’s head softly, letting herself think out loud. “The perfect thing would be a poetry reading somewhere she’s never been before or maybe wandering the Met holding hands, followed by a really nice dinner somewhere that’s women only. I’d give her flowers. And then we--”

“Ehh, I know you want something special but is it possible you’re going overboard a bit? She’s new to the city, you said, and she loves women’s community, but she’s not deep into any of it here. Meg’s playing a show at Cooper Union next week. Sold out, but Zaynie could get tickets for ya. And then you take her to Kit’s since it’s right there.” Niall leaned back in her chair, clearly pleased with herself, and clicked her tongue to call Sappho over to her own lap. The cat nudged at Louis’ hand and then leapt away, happy to be invited to cuddle with her.

“You really think Zayn could get tickets? Are she and Meg still friends?” Louis jiggled her leg, her nervous energy spilling out. “Should I go ask her now?”

Niall just laughed. “So you’re takin’ my date advice then?” She didn’t wait for Louis to answer before waving her off, telling her to come back when she was done. “Don’t forget to invite me to your handfastin’,” she yelled as Louis pushed the door open. Louis flipped her the bird, laughing when she heard Niall’s half-offended scoff.

The walk to Liam and Zayn’s apartment was usually only about ten minutes, but Louis made it in eight, her excitement making her move at a faster pace than usual. They lived in a big loft on Greene Street, just a few blocks from the store yet somehow worlds away in terms of the neighborhood feel. It still had the air of old industry and worn out factories, even if artists were moving in and slowly taking over day by day.

The iron grate that separated the building’s entrance from the street was rarely locked, and Louis let herself in, hoping she wouldn’t be interrupting anything arriving at such an odd time and without notice. She knocked at the door, waiting to hear any noise in return before knocking again louder. “It’s Lou, if you’re home!” She was about to knock a third time when she heard Liam say she was on her way.

Liam answered the door shirtless and with flecks of green and grey paint on her arms, welcoming Louis inside and telling her to have a seat for a moment. “I was trying my hand at painting. There’s a woman renting the commercial space downstairs who’s an artist and hearing her talk about it has made me think about how much I loved drawing and painting as a girl.” She poured herself a glass of water and offered one to Louis as Zayn emerged from their makeshift bedroom-cum-studio.

“I had a feeling we’d see you today,” Zayn said, knotting the sash of her silk robe closed as she tied her hair up. “Did you come to talk about Harry? Because we think she’s truly lovely.” She put her arms around Liam’s waist, hugging her from behind. “Don’t we, starshine?”

“We do,” Liam said before kissing the top of Zayn’s head. They came to join Louis, sitting together in an old armchair. “And we only thought you’d come later, otherwise we might’ve been ready for you.”

Louis waved them off. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re painting, sounds lovely. Maybe Niall will let you have a show in a few months.” Liam’s eyes lit up and she smiled, nuzzling against Zayn’s shoulder.

“You think? I’d love that. Paintings of you all around while you sing, maybe?” She looked up at Zayn hopefully and Louis found she had to look away, almost embarrassed by how in love the two of them were. She heard them exchange a kiss before Zayn whispered something to Liam that made both of them giggle.

“Sorry,” Liam said, her ears gone a bit red as Zayn settled less on the side of the armchair and more fully in her lap. “We’ll dream about all that later. What brought you by so early?”

“Niall.” Louis pulled her legs up onto the couch so she was sitting cross-legged in the center, leaning over to rest her chin in her hand. “She had this idea for a date, but I’d need Zayn’s help.”

Zayn leaned her head against Liam’s and hummed. “I knew it would be about Harry. Whatever you need, womon.”

“Not sure you can actually help, but Niall was convinced you could. Meg Christian’s in town next week for a concert at Cooper Union. I’m sure it’s sold out, but Niall thought it would be a great place to take Harry for our first date. Think you can get tickets?”

“We haven’t spoken since I left Olivia,” Zayn said, her mouth twisting to a frown. “I think we’re on good terms, but it’s difficult to know.” Liam rested a hand on Zayn’s knee, giving her a reassuring pat. “I can make a call, though.”

“If it’s too much, don’t worry,” Louis said quickly. “We can do anything, I’m sure. I really just want to spend time with Harry, so…”

“Ooh, can we talk about Harry for a bit?” Liam’s eyes lit up and she wiggled in the chair, making Zayn shift her position slightly. “We liked her!”

Zayn nodded, smiling down at Liam and then looking over to Louis. “We did. She’s got a very open, airy energy. Aquarius or Libra, I think. Thoughtful, poetic. I kept thinking about the reading we had.” Zayn raised her eyebrows knowingly. “She’s very captivated by you.”

Louis leaned back and covered her face with her hands. “Do you think so? I couldn’t tell if it was just me being hopeful. I mean I could tell she likes me, but it’s just-- she’s so vibrant. I feel like I couldn’t possibly do enough to impress her.”

“You don’t have to do anything; it’s in your being. You are enough to impress her and keep her interested and excited. She’s enough to be the same for you. I think all of us felt it.” Liam nodded along as Zayn spoke. “So. Tell us everything.”

It didn’t take long for Louis to recount everything that had happened between leaving dinner the night before and running over to ask for Zayn’s help. “Now I just have to decide if I should call her tonight or wait until I’m certain about the show so I can tell her what we’ll be doing.”

“Do what your heart says.” Liam gave Louis a serious look. “What does your heart tell you?” Louis reclined again, staring up at the dust swirling around in a beam of sunlight. She exhaled heavily and watched the tiny particles stirring quickly around one another.

“I wanna call her. It’s all I wanna do. I keep thinking about talking with her for hours, really talking. Getting to know everything about her.” Even saying it aloud stirred up all the emotions inside her, making her feel as though her stomach could lift her off the ground if she let it. “I’d call her right now if I thought she were home.”

Liam and Zayn both nodded at her, the two of them looking quite satisfied. “It’s settled then,” Zayn said. “I’ll get in touch with someone from Olivia, and you’ll call her the second you get home tonight. Even if I can’t get the tickets for you, the two of you should have a plan. And you’ll talk with Harry on the phone and start the long, beautiful journey that the two of you will share.”

Zayn insisted on making Louis a cup of rose tea, “for your heart,” before she left, and Louis sat drinking it while Liam went back into the room to work on her painting. Zayn sat with her on the couch, drinking her own cup and talking with her about coming over for dinner with Harry after they’d had their first date. When Louis protested that they should have the date before making any plans for afterward, Zayn just shook her head and laid her hand on Louis’ knee, assuring her that it would all work out fine.

A tentative plan made and the rose tea finished, Louis went back to Womon's Direction and did what she could to make the day go faster. This meant that by the time she left that night, she’d completely organized the community events board, priced and shelved the donations that Niall had sorted earlier in the day, and helped a regular at the store plan her first women’s group meeting there for late May. She was still brimming with energy as she left the store and walked home, wondering vaguely what exactly Zayn put in her rose tea to give her this sort of boost.

She grabbed a hot dog on her way home from a vendor who was closing up, eating it while she made her way back home and trying to think of all the things she wanted to talk about with Harry. There was so much she didn’t know, and so much she wanted to, and while learning it all face to face with Harry sounded best of all, just hearing her voice felt like it would be better than nothing.

Once Louis had made it into her apartment, she stripped off her jeans and grabbed a beer from the fridge, surveying the contents and realizing that she needed to make the effort to go grocery shopping soon if she wanted anything other than yogurt, a couple of wrinkled carrots, or a condiment sandwich in the next few days. She scrawled a note for herself as a reminder before climbing onto her bed, hauling her phone as close as she could and checking that she’d be able to lie back comfortably without worrying about the cord disconnecting.

It stretched just enough, and she set her beer aside as she leaned over and carefully dialled Harry’s number from memory, having thought about using it for most of the day. Harry answered on the third ring, her voice coming across crisp and professional.

“Hello, Styles residence, this is Harriet speaking.” A laugh bubbled out of Louis before she could control it, and she heard Harry’s confusion across the line. “Mother?”

“Try again,” Louis said, adjusting the pillow behind her as she leaned back to get comfortable.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice went high with the end of Louis’ name, her excitement bleeding through. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Tried you earlier, but you weren’t home. I-- didn’t actually think you would be, when I did.” Louis sipped her beer before continuing. “Anyway, I’m calling again now, and there you are.”

“Here I am.” Louis could hear Harry’s smile in the words, and she bit back a laugh in return.

“So you got home okay last night? Right to your door?”

“Yes. Had to run right up and call my mother.” Louis could hear the sound of the phone being picked up and carried somewhere before being set down. “She thought I was having dinner with some girls from work and if I’d been any later she might’ve gotten suspicious.” Harry sighed and then sat down herself with a small huff.

“She doesn’t trust you much, then? Were you secretly a rebel? Join some covert Women’s Liberation Army in school, maybe?”

Harry laughed. “No. I wish. More like if she can’t see every single thing I’m doing she freaks.”   

“She must hate that you’re here.”

“A lot, yes. She thinks it’s okay as long as it’s a step toward getting a husband and moving back to Boston.” Louis grimaced at the thought while Harry continued. “That’s what my sister did, anyway, so she’s thinking it should be the same for me.”

“That’s some trip.”

“Yeah.” Harry hesitated for a moment. “She cares. That’s something. But it’s all so paternalistic. I tried getting her to read the Feminine Mystique last year and she wouldn’t even touch it, you know? She’s so deep inside all that oppressive bull that she doesn’t even know she should want to get out.”

Louis groaned quietly, sympathetic to everything Harry said even if it wasn’t what she’d experienced herself. “Is your sister any better? You said she got married?”

“She’s fine. Educated, like me. And her husband is nice enough. She worked for a while, too, but now that she’s back in Boston she’s ready to head up the D.A.R. and I’m not even sure if she’d protest if Anita Bryant showed up to offer her support.”

“Damn.” Louis winced, shaking her head. “That’s almost as bad as it gets. So they don’t know you’re…”

“Um, no.” She could sense Harry shaking her head. “Nobody does. Well. You do. And my best friend Bobbi from school. She’s the reason I know half of what I do about being a lesbian.”

“Oh,” Louis said, not able to contain her surprise. “That’s-- I mean, that’s really good, it’s good to have someone to, um, show you the ropes. Are you still-- do you see her at all?”

“Not for a while. She’s out in California, but her family is in Long Island. Hopefully she’ll visit sometime this summer.”

Louis couldn’t help feeling a little let down, though she did her best to hide it. “Would she stay with you?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “It might be nice, but I couldn’t fit her and whoever she’ll bring. She has a new girl with every letter; I’m not sure how she does it.”

The tightness in Louis’ chest eased a bit, and she shook her head, trying to clear it completely. “It’s nice that doesn’t bother you. Her having a new girlfriend all the time. I hated running into my first girlfriend when she still lived in the city. She’s on women’s land down in Arkansas? Alabama? Anyway it’s nice not seeing her around now.”

“Girlfriend?” Harry’s voice rose a little uncomfortably. “I. Oh-- did you mean Bobbi? We weren’t.”

“She never made it official, or you didn’t-- sorry. You don’t have to--”

“No, no, it’s fine. We didn’t ever, um. She was just my friend. And let me read everything she brought back from poetry readings or trips to the city.”

Louis laughed, certain her relief was audible but unable to care. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry. It’s good you had someone like her. And I guess that explains how you know so many good lesbian poets, huh?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have figured anything out if it weren’t for her.” Harry sighed. “Anyway. How about you?”

“Me?” Louis scratched at a bug bite on her knee, distracted by the question. She’d much rather talk about Harry than herself.

“You. Are you out? With your family, I mean. Obviously everyone you work with knows.”

“Actually I’ve never told Niall I’m a lesbian. Not sure she’d want me around if she knew.” Louis twisted the phone cord around her big toe and then flopped back onto her bed, wiggling her foot til the cord came loose. “She’s quite set in her ways, you know.”

“Uh-oh. I hope I didn’t tip her off last night,” Harry said, sounding very serious. “I’m afraid I was a bit obvious.”

“You were, it was terrible. But I managed to throw her off the scent today. Told her you were my long lost cousin, and that you’d missed me so much that you couldn’t help holding my hand and staring at me all night.”

“I didn’t stare!” Harry laughed. “You stared at me.”

“Lies and character assassination.” Louis’ face hurt from grinning and holding back her giggles. It was rare that she felt like she could really exchange banter with someone, and here was Harry doing her proud. “Honestly Harry, it’s not becoming for a lady like yourself to do such things.”

“Am I so terribly wicked?” Harry asked, putting on a slight British accent. “Have I done harm to my family’s good name?”

“Terrible, awful, wicked ‘arm.” Louis put on a much thicker British accent of her own. “You’ll be cast in with the worst o’ the lot.”

“Will there be lesbians there?”

“Plenty o’ lesbians,” Louis replied, unable to hold back her laughter.

“Then I’ll go. If they’ll have me.” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, her faked accent leaving. “You’ll have me, right Lou?”

Harry’s words traveled straight from Louis’ ears down to her cunt, and she clenched her legs involuntarily, swallowing hard before she responded, her own voice shaky and her fake accent gone. “Yeah. I’d like that. Or, like to.” She paused for a moment, listening to the sound of Harry breathing quietly on the other end of the line. “Actually called to see if you wanted to have a real date with me. Next week?”

“Yes,” Harry said, barely letting Louis finish her words. “I’d like that.” She cleared her throat. “I’d like that a lot. What were you thinking? Or when? Where?”

“Next Thursday, if you’re free? I can’t say what I’m thinking of yet, because it may not work out. But even if it didn’t I thought we could still get together.”

“Of course I’m free. Where should we meet?”

They settled the details pretty quickly, though Louis didn’t mention the concert just yet. And then she asked Harry how her day had been. What she’d talked about with her mother. Where she’d gone to school and what she’d studied and all sorts of questions about her life. They stayed on the phone for two solid hours, until Harry started to yawn and Louis offered to call back the next day, around the same time.

She fell asleep herself a couple of hours later, still thinking of everything she’d talked about with Harry. That night, she dreamed that she was a pirate captain and Harry was a stowaway on her ship. They sat together in her well appointed room, Harry listening to the stories of Louis’ exploits with a sparkle in her eye. The crew came in to join them, all of them dykes and each one welcoming Harry happily. The dream stayed with her when she woke up the next morning, and she laid in bed smiling at the thought of having started on a journey with Harry, just as Zayn had predicted.

Chapter Text

When Harry had hung up the phone after talking to Louis that first night, she’d been tired but too keyed up to sleep. She had put herself to bed and laid there, staring at the ceiling and trying to hold onto every little detail she could. Louis hadn’t said much about herself, always deflecting and turning the conversation back around to ask more about Harry. It would’ve bothered her more if they’d been talking longer, but as it was she could only feel as though Louis appreciated her, that she was listening and cared to hear what Harry had to say.

She’d finally drifted off and dreamed she was having tea with Zayn and Louis in Niall’s kitchen. Everything smelled like flowers and she’d looked down and realized the floor was made of rose petals. They walked in their bare feet, feeling the gentle crush of the petals under their toes and holding hands with one another.

“You won’t get lost with me, I promise,” Dream Louis had said, her hand linked with Harry’s. Her palm was soft and warm and a little sweaty, just like the first night they’d held hands, and when Harry awoke the next morning she felt the ghost of it against her own. She’d even let herself close her eyes again, knowing it was a bad idea but not wanting to let go of the soft dream world she’d been in just yet.

After that, every day was simple routine and mechanics until she finally got to speak with Louis. She’d  rush through dinner and dishes and her phone call with her mother and then sit by the phone, making conversation with her spider plant or sitting with a book until the high trill of the phone ringing made her jump. She’d answer on the first ring, still being formal just in case it was her mother calling back, even though it never was.

Every day it felt as though she’d gotten to learn a little bit more about Louis, even if she never got quite as much as she gave. She did learn that Louis had come out to her family, but that it hadn’t been entirely intentional, and that she’d met Niall through her aunt, whom she’d lived with after moving to the city. She also learned that Louis was a writer, though she hadn’t figured out a way to read any of her writing just yet.

On Tuesday, Louis had finally revealed what they’d be doing on their date. She’d managed to get tickets to Meg Christian, who was playing a sold out show at Cooper Union. That only helped Harry cement the lie she needed to tell her mother to get out of their nightly calls. When she’d talked to her mother on Wednesday night, Harry had simply told her that a new work friend had invited her to a concert at Cooper Union’s Great Hall and that she wouldn’t get home until a bit too late to call. It didn’t go over well, but Harry’s mother seemed happy that Harry was getting out and attending cultural events.

“Don’t be afraid to speak to any young men you see there, Harriet. That’s a well respected venue, and anyone you’d meet would be very cultured.”

Harry had forced herself to agree, as much as it annoyed her to do so. But then she’d hung up the phone and gotten a call from Louis only ten minutes later, and all she could think was that she had indeed met someone cultured and wonderful, someone caring and supportive and absolutely scintillating. And they were going on a date the very next day.

The excitement that Harry had felt the night before only built as she awoke and got dressed for work on Thursday morning. She wore one of her nicer dresses and braided her hair, bringing along a couple of clips so that she could let it down after work if she preferred. All day she felt a sort of tingling buzz just beneath her skin, keeping her going in spite of her desire to just skip over everything and get to the good part: meeting up with Louis.

She took a taxi from work up to Cooper Union, sitting on one of the benches outside the hall and reading her book as she waited for Louis to arrive. The early evening sky was still pale blue and lovely, and she wished for a moment that she was able to draw or paint so that she could capture the look of the world around her. She was thinking about maybe writing something instead when someone cleared their throat next to her.

“You’re early,” Louis said, smiling down at Harry. “I could’ve met you sooner if I’d known.” Harry looked at her watch and then shifted over to let Louis join her on the bench.

“You’re early too. Niall let you out?”

“Took the whole day, actually. Cleaned a bit, finally made it to the A&P so that I’d have more than mustard to eat.” Louis’ tone was teasing, but the way she pulled at her button down shirt made Harry think that she was actually nervous, and for some reason that set Harry more at ease.

“Oh, cleaning on your day off? How terribly responsible of you. Some of us just spend hours upon hours reading when we’re not at work.” Harry nudged at Louis’ knee with her own. “Bookish and boring and lazy. In case you thought I was half the woman you are.”

“You forget, young Harry, that I work at a bookstore. Which means I spend my work days being bookish and boring and lazy. You can’t one up me that easily.”

“I’ll keep trying, then,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Louis.

Louis asked Harry about her day and Harry told her about the only interesting thing that had happened: Sharon from the typing pool had turned in her notice because she was getting married to Fred from Accounts Payable.

“Alright, so you’ve one upped me already,” Louis said when Harry was finished telling the story. “I can guarantee nothing like that has happened at any job I’ve ever had.”

“Trust me, that’s exactly the sort of thing that happens every few days there. It’s where my sister met her husband, and where Mother expects I’ll meet mine. It’s incredibly dull.”

“Where would you work, if you could work anywhere?” Louis pulled her feet up underneath herself and turned to look at Harry. “If you could do anything?”

“My degree is in Literature.” Harry chewed at her lip, trying to come up with a proper answer. Something that wasn’t ‘I don’t know.’

“Alright.” Louis put her hand on the back of the bench, just behind Harry’s shoulder. Harry was keenly aware of it. “So you could teach or write, work in a library, lead CR groups for the elderly…”

“No,” Harry shook her head, smiling at Louis’ joke. “I guess I don’t know? What I’d want to do?” She leaned back and felt the brush of Louis’ hand against her skin and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. Louis seemed to notice and let her palm come to rest on Harry’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“It’s fine to take your time, you know. Not everyone knows what they want at every turn.”

“Did you?” Harry tucked one leg underneath herself so she could really face Louis. What she might say felt important even though Harry wasn’t entirely sure why. Louis shifted a bit as she considered her answer.

“I did, a bit. I started writing as soon as I figured out how to get words on paper. Got a diary when I was six and didn’t look back. Still have it, actually.”

Louis smiled fondly, and Harry tried to imagine what she would’ve looked like at that age. Had she been a tomboy like Harry, skinned knees and shirtless after a summertime bike ride? Or had she maybe been dainty and delicate, her lovely wrists and hands just smaller versions of what they were now?

“What sorts of things did you write?” Harry half hoped it would give her insight into the woman in front of her as well as the child she once had been. “Just personal stuff?”

“At first, yeah. But I moved to poetry pretty soon after, and then I started keeping that separate. I still do both, actually.” She shrugged. “Keep a diary and a poetry notebook, I mean. Sometimes the diary ends up being more like essays if I’m fired up over something. But the poetry notebook is just poetry.”

“Could I read it?” Harry realized as soon as she’d asked that it was probably too much. “Sometime, I mean, in the future. Not the whole thing, just a poem of yours.” She felt a blush rising on her cheeks and she rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry.”

“Why would you apologize for that?” Louis’ hand drifted from Harry’s shoulder and down her arm, until her fingers brushed against Harry’s. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Harry turned her palm up so that Louis could lace their fingers together carefully. “Besides, I have a confession to make.”

She paused for a beat too long and Harry squeezed her hand. “Tell me.” It came out more urgent and less teasing than Harry had intended, but Louis kept smiling at her anyway.

“You probably have read at least one of my poems.” Harry’s eyes widened. Before she could ask how or where, Louis continued. “The issue of Artemis’ Light that I gave you? It had one of my poems in it. And an essay too, actually.”

Harry could feel her heart thud inside her chest as she wondered if it was possible that Louis might’ve written the poem she loved, the one she’d practically memorized just days after reading it. “Should I guess which one?”

It was Louis’ turn to squeeze her hand now. “Yes. Go ahead. I promise I won’t be upset if you get it wrong.”

“Fireproof?” Harry watched as Louis looked back at her, mouth dropping open just a bit with surprise.

“How’d you know?” Louis asked. “Did Niall tell you?” Harry shook her head.

“That was my favorite, Lou. I read it over and over. It’s beautiful.” The look on Louis face was incredible, a mixture of wonder and delight and something else that Harry couldn’t quite name, but that left her feeling warm inside all the same. “I practically memorized it.”

“You’re putting me on,” Louis said with a shake of her head. When she saw Harry’s sincere smile, she stopped, biting her lip to hold back a smile of her own. “You mean it, don’t you? You really liked it that much?”

“It was amazing.” Harry felt breathless and excited, sitting on a bench with Louis as the day gave up its light around them and the street lamps buzzed to life. She looked into the impossible blue of Louis’ eyes and smiled, wanting nothing more than to exist inside this particular moment for as long as possible.

“I wonder if I could kiss you,” Louis said, her voice soft, delicate, even if her words made Harry feel as though the world had gone electric around her. “May I?”

Part of Harry was shouting at her to stop. To look around for who was watching or to take Louis and run with her to some place private, some place where she wouldn’t be seen like this with another woman. She took a breath and ignored that part of her, the voice so much like her mother’s that was telling her to hide.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.”

It felt as though Harry barely had a chance to breathe before Louis’ lips were right there. She blinked and Louis was close enough to be sharing air with her, and then she shut her eyes and their lips were touching. It was soft, softer than anything she’d felt since practicing kissing with her best friend Carol in the sixth grade. Every kiss between that first practice kiss and this one with Louis felt irrelevant. Wrong. Too hard and heavy, like wearing a sweater made out of lead. She tipped forward into it, reciprocating the gentle movement of Louis’ mouth on hers as if it were entirely natural. As if she’d been doing it for years.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime for Harry. It felt like coming home. She opened her eyes and saw Louis looking back at her fondly with a tender half-smile on her lips.

“I think I could do that all night,” she said, making Harry blush and giggle though she couldn’t force herself to look away.

“That would be amazing.” Harry was surprised when her voice came out low and husky, and she swallowed hard, trying to collect herself. “I mean, um.” An alarm bell rang in her head, telling her she was being too much-- silly and over-eager, a naive child compared with Louis.

“What?” Louis teased. “It’s alright if you wanted to kiss all night. Meg probably wouldn’t mind, and most of the other women wouldn’t either.”

Harry pushed at Louis’ shoulder with her own, shaking her head. “Stop it, I could never.” She could, was the thing, and it scared her more than she wanted to admit. If Louis asked her to, she felt like she really could spend the next several hours just kissing. Louis’ lips against hers, the slow build toward opening their mouths to one another. She wondered what Louis’ tongue would feel like pushing into her mouth and imagined it being soft and strong, just like Louis was herself. She realized she’d been staring at Louis’ mouth and inhaled sharply, biting back an apology before it could spill out. Louis looked at her quizzically.

“Everything okay? I was teasing, you know. We don’t have to kiss any more if you don’t want to, especially not out like this.” She gestured around them and Harry tracked the movement of her hand, seeing for the first time that a few other women had started to gather for the concert.

“It’s not that,” Harry said quietly. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to kiss you, or that I wouldn’t kiss you in front of all these people. It’s that I would.” She swallowed hard and looked around again before inching closer to Louis. “I want to, and it’s strange and good and kind of a trip. You know what I mean?”

Louis nodded back at her. “Boy do I. It’s not like I don’t get that feeling too, sometimes. Maybe it’s not exactly the same, but it still feels weird. Like you’re doing something wrong by wanting a woman, but there’s nothing that could ever feel more right.”

“Yes!” Harry said it loud enough that she could practically feel the people around them turn to stare at her, and she lowered her voice immediately. “That’s it.” It felt so freeing to know that she wasn’t alone in the feeling that she could barely contain the laugh that bubbled out. “I just couldn’t quite put it into words.”

“Well, you aren’t the first of us to feel it and you won’t be the last.” Louis brushed a curl off Harry’s forehead and then turned to look at the doors to the Great Hall, which were being opened as she spoke. “And anyway, just because we have all night to kiss doesn’t mean we have to do it now. We’ve got a show to watch.”

Harry followed Louis inside and they quickly found their seats, sitting a little closer together than was entirely necessary. There was no opener, and Meg came out smiling, starting of with some of her older songs before singing a few things from her new album. The crowd loved all of it, laughing when she sang something called “Leaping Lesbians” and swaying along with the rest of her songs. Harry marveled at the way she played guitar and her confidence on stage, though admittedly she focused less on Meg and more on Louis, throughout, admiring the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled and the way she moved. Even seated, she was graceful, and Harry only wished they could actually dance with one another instead of just moving in their chairs.

When it was over, they waited in line so Harry could buy the new album. Meg offered to sign it and Harry said yes, absolutely giddy at the thought that she’d have a signed copy to call her own. Louis stood beside her, not saying much as they waited and letting Harry gush instead. She seemed pleased, though, her eyes sparkling whenever Harry looked at her, and when they walked out into the cool spring night, Louis slid her hand into Harry’s easily.

“Dinner?”

Louis sounded hopeful, and Harry nodded right away. “Wherever you want to go,” she said, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze. Louis smiled back at her and then started walking up 3rd Avenue.

“You really had fun?” Louis asked as they walked.

“As if you couldn’t tell. I made you stand in line so I could buy an album. How about you? Did you like it?”

“Truthfully? She wasn’t my favorite. But I’m spoiled by Zayn, I think. There aren’t many women I’d prefer to listen to over her.”

It was a fair point, and Harry agreed as Louis had them turn to walk east. “Where are we going? I don’t know any of the places around here, really.”

“Veselka? It’s a little Ukrainian place. Just started staying open a bit later, and the food is great.” Louis raised her eyebrows at Harry and grinned, and Harry couldn’t help but smile back. The food was as good as Louis had promised, even if almost all of it was unfamiliar to Harry. Louis didn’t mind that Harry was prone to stealing bites, and so they spent their dinner talking and sharing food. Louis eventually pushed her latkes toward Harry, saying she could tell they were Harry’s favorite, and Harry could only shrug and smile, spooning applesauce and sour cream over the fried potato cakes and feeling pleased that Louis hadn’t simply kept them for herself as most people did when Harry started stealing too many bites.

As they were finishing their meal, Louis tapped at Harry’s toes with her own. “Would you like to get a drink with me? There’s a women’s bar nearby.” What could Harry say but yes? It felt like she and Louis were in a world all their own, and she wanted to do all she could to stay there.

The bar, Kit’s, was up a few blocks on 14th Street between 2nd and 3rd. The walk there wasn’t as pleasant as the one to the restaurant had been, mostly due to a couple of men yelling at Harry and Louis not long after they’d left the restaurant. They were on the opposite side of the street and walking the other direction, but it was still enough to make Harry worry about holding Louis’ hand, even if it felt strange now not to do it. When they got to the entrance to the bar, Louis put her hand on Harry’s lower back to guide her inside while she held the door open. That simple action set everything right again.

“Sorry,” Harry said when they’d settled into a small booth in the back of the bar. “I kind of flipped when those guys started in and--”

“Harry, it’s alright, really,” Louis said, taking Harry’s hand. “I know it’s hard. And I know it’s different for you than it is for me, with guys like that.”

“Is it?” For Harry it felt as though she’d done something to deserve what they were saying, sometimes. With Louis by her side, she started to wonder if anything she did would matter. “I think they’d say the same shit if I dressed like you.”

“Different shit, same vibe,” Louis said with a shrug. “But it still gets to me sometimes, even after so many consciousness raising sessions I can’t even count ‘em.”

“Probably because of that,” Harry said, laughing. Louis giggled back at her.

“You’re right. I know all the ways they’re trying to oppress me with whatever they say, and all I can think is if I took the time to think about it, they should too. Dicks.”

“That’s what they think with,” Harry said, rolling her eyes. Louis laughed back at her, and Harry couldn’t help but join her. Her joy just felt infectious somehow. Louis sat back and took a long pull from her beer and Harry watched her, taking in the bob of her throat as she swallowed and the way she held the bottle in her hand, her thumb sliding over the peeling edge of the label as she drank. She seemed to notice, looking back at Harry as she set her beer down and leaned forward.

“I have a strange question.”

“I have a strange answer,” Harry said, smiling back playfully. It made Louis duck her head and laugh, so it felt like a success.

“I know you’re new to this,” Louis said. She spoke slower than usual and seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “With women. Yeah? And I wondered if it was like that with men, too?”

Harry wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to answer. And maybe she didn’t have to-- no, she knew she didn’t, knew that Louis would absolutely let her say she didn’t want to talk about it --but she felt like it was worth saying anyway. “I’ve had boyfriends. A couple. One in high school and two in college.” She took a sip of her rum and coke. “We didn’t do much. Some touching, lots of necking. It wasn’t that hard not to go very far, really.”

“Sorry, it’s awful of me to ask, I guess I just wondered…”

“It’s okay. I mean virginity is just a dumb patriarchal concept anyway, right?” It was, Harry knew. But it also wasn’t, and she worried that somehow she’d both gone too far and not far enough.

“It is, actually. I had a boyfriend when I was fourteen. We did it twice, and it was awful. It was different with my first girl.” Louis shook her head at the memory. “Still not great, though.”  

“How old were you?” Harry leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “With your first girlfriend?”

“First girlfriend I was 19 and living in the city already with my Aunt Ruth. Her name was Francesca-- Frankie --and we met at a protest.” Louis chuckled quietly to herself. “We fought constantly. She’s the one who lives down south now.” Louis paused for a moment and threw back another sip of beer, leaving just a bit in the bottle. “First time was different. I was 16 and she was a lot older.”

Harry waited a moment for Louis to continue. When she didn’t, Harry prodded at her leg gently and gave a little nod. “How’d it happen?”

“Oh, it was stupid. Her name was Liz. She was 23 or so and I lied and told her I was 18. I was with some older friends so it wasn’t too hard to believe. We were drinking, and then we snuck into someone’s swimming pool and went skinny dipping. We started fooling around and it just sort of...happened.” Louis peeled away the edge of her beer label and started to scratch down the bottle with her short thumbnail. “I saw her around a few times afterward, but I think someone told her I was 16 and she didn’t speak to me again. Of course now I know if our positions were switched I wouldn’t talk to the kid either.”

“Can’t feel great, I guess,” Harry said, trying to imagine being in either position. They were both so foreign to her that it was pretty difficult.

Louis shuddered a little. “No, had to be creepy. Don’t think she would’ve done anything if she’d known. But I’d heard she didn’t go with boys and I thought I might be like that too.”

“You were, at least.”

“It did confirm things for me.” Louis raised her bottle and gestured toward Harry’s mostly empty drink, offering to get a refill. Harry gave a sort of noncommittal shrug, hoping Louis would get her another drink just so that they’d have more reason to keep talking. She didn’t mind the idea of getting drunker, either, though she felt a bit guilty having that thought.

Louis came back with their drinks and they kept talking, Louis telling Harry more about her Aunt and what she’d done when she got to the city. Harry wanted to ask her about how many women she’d dated and what sorts of things they’d done. Not sexual things, necessarily, but not not sexual things, either. But the conversation started drifting more toward books and poets, and Harry found herself feeling more engaged in all of that anyway.

It turned out Louis was as well-read as Harry had thought she must be. She hadn’t gotten a college degree, but she’d taken a few courses at Hunter for a while and had read her fair share of the classics as well as anything she felt like diving into at Womon’s Direction. She liked Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson as much as she loved more contemporary lesbian poets like Pat Parker and Judy Grahn.

She also dreamed of traveling across the states, visiting women’s land and festivals until she hit the Pacific Ocean and had to turn around again, though she hadn’t driven since she was 17 or so, and hadn’t been particularly good at it then. Harry imagined what Louis might look like after a few days of travel or camping, her skin golden from being out in the sun and her hair mussed and imperfect, half hidden under a bandana or a straw hat. She’d probably smell amazing, too, Harry thought. Sharp and earthy and warm, like burrowing under blankets in the cold or lying back on the cool ground on a hot day.

Louis’ touch took Harry from her reverie. “Where’d you go there, love? Looked like you were about to start dreaming with your eyes open.”

“It just sounds nice, is all,” Harry said, a spark firing up in her heart at Louis’ endearment. They might just be part of heteropatriarchal expectations of a relationship, but it still felt nice to hear someone she liked call her ‘love’ or ‘darling’ or, though she secretly felt guilty about it, ‘baby.’ “Traveling, I mean. With you.”

“We could, if you wanted to,” Louis said softly. She looked like she meant it, and it made Harry feel soft and fuzzy around her edges. She smiled back and reached out to put her hand in Louis’ upturned palm. She was going to say something about wanting to travel with Louis, or maybe just go anywhere at all with her, when her ears perked up at the sound of one of her favorite songs being played.

“Ohhh, they’re playing Queen,” Harry said, turning to look over her shoulder as if she expected to see the band themselves standing behind her. “I love this song so much. Can we dance? Will you? I’ve never danced with a woman before and I want to dance with you, Lou.” Harry clamped her mouth shut quickly, feeling like she’d already said too much, but Louis just laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I love them too. This song’s great.” She stood and offered her hand to Harry, who slid out of the booth a bit too quickly, stumbling slightly when she put her foot down. “Easy there,” Louis said, catching her with a hand at her waist and another on her arm. “Sure you don’t want some water instead?”

“No, I want to dance to this song with you.” It really was all that Harry wanted as Freddie started in on the verses. The tempo of the song wasn’t the best for a slow dance, but the words were perfect. Harry melted into Louis, arms around her shoulders as Louis’ went to her waist, and the two of them swayed as the song built to a crescendo with Freddie begging for someone to love.

“You’re very pretty, Lou. Did you know that?” Harry realized as soon as she’d said it that she had stumbled past being tipsy and into being drunk, but she couldn’t bring herself to care when she was here, standing in a lesbian bar with someone she liked who liked her back, dancing .

“Thank you, Harry. I think you’re very pretty too.” There was the hint of a laugh behind Louis’ voice, but it only made Harry feel warm inside as they swayed together. The song was building up, the band’s voices overlapping until Freddie’s broke free into a high wail followed by a soft tumble down on the word ‘love’ that made Harry sigh and pull Louis just a bit tighter. They kept moving through to the end of the song, and then for a moment afterwards as another song came on.

“You wanna sit, love?” Louis whispered, one hand dipping to Harry’s lower back.

Harry hummed in response, though she was reluctant to let Louis go. “Mind if I sit next to you instead of across?” Louis guided her into the booth gently.

“Not at all. Be right back.” Louis slid into the booth a few moments later with two glasses of water and a bowl of pretzels from the bar. “Thought you might want some of these,” she said, grabbing a pretzel for herself and pushing the bowl closer to Harry.

“I don’t drink much,” Harry said, tipping her head onto Louis’ shoulder as she ate a pretzel of her own. “Think I was too fast with those.”

“Yeah, and Amber’s tending bar tonight. She makes her drinks pretty strong. Didn’t even think of it.” Louis put her arm around Harry and let her rest against her side. They stayed like that for a while, Harry just leaning into Louis as Louis trailed her fingers lightly up and down Harry’s arm. It tickled, but not in an uncomfortable way, and it both settled and stirred something inside Harry.

“Could we go to your apartment?” Harry whispered. Louis’ hand stilled, and she pulled away slightly to look Harry in the eyes.

“We can go anywhere you’d like.” She looked like she was holding back a question that she didn’t want to ask. Harry leaned in and placed a single kiss against her cheek, as soft as she could against the highest part, almost at her temple.

“I’d like to sit with you more. Not here. I promise you’re not taking advantage of me.” She smiled as she said it, as if it were a joke. But she wanted Louis to know that she meant it. “I probably should’ve asked earlier, before the drinks.” Harry gestured toward her empty glass. “But I didn’t know what to say.”

Louis nodded, and it looked as though she understood. “It’s getting late, anyway. Safer if you stay down here.” They sat for a while longer, drinking more water and talking about the music they liked aside from women’s music, agreeing that Queen was superior to much of the other rock bands around, probably because Freddie was bi, according to Louis. When they walked outside the evening had turned cold, and Harry linked her arm with Louis’ and cuddled closer to her. She insisted on hailing a cab in spite of Harry protesting that she could easily walk the few blocks downtown, and when they climbed in she immediately realized it was a much better choice; it really was a bit too cold to walk around in what she was wearing.

They got to Louis’ apartment pretty quickly and climbed the stairs in silence, not talking until Louis had let Harry in and closed the door behind her.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Louis asked as she toed her shoes off. “Not sure that you’ll have time to go back home and then get all the way downtown without waking up really early.” She took Harry’s bag and hung it on a hook as Harry kicked her shoes off as well.

“I should.” Harry hesitated. “But I don’t think I will tomorrow. I’ll use your phone and call out sick in the morning. If you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” Louis smiled, her face looking soft and fond. “Didn’t know I was having a date with such a rebellious spirit. Stickin’ it to the man any way you can?”

Harry giggled. “Maybe I am.” They looked at one another for a moment, both still smiling but going quiet. Harry wet her lips, wanting desperately to ask for a kiss but feeling as though the room was too full to move. She heard Louis release a quiet sigh and wondered if she was feeling the same things. “Would you like to--” She and Louis both spoke at the same time, saying the same words. She waved her hand, letting Louis know she could continue and hoping she might say what Harry had been close to saying.

“Would you like to borrow some clothes to sleep in?” Louis turned quickly to go dig through her dresser and Harry deflated slightly. At least she felt able to move again. “Sorry I don’t have anywhere nice to sit other than the bed. Well. There’s one chair, but that won’t really work.” She had a t-shirt and a pair of worn boxer shorts in her hands that she held out to Harry. “Will this work for sleeping?” Harry nodded and let Louis point her to the bathroom.

They both got ready for bed, Harry brushing her teeth with her finger and giving her face a rinse with warm water. While Louis used the bathroom, Harry climbed into bed, pulling the blankets back and then having a look around as she settled in. There was a stack of books on Louis’ bedside table with bits of paper stuck in at various points, and a couple of crates stacked one on top of the other that were filled with records next to a bookshelf that was full to bursting. As she laid back on the pillow, Harry inhaled deeply, realizing that the bed and the room and her shirt all smelled like Louis. She had to bite back a smile.

Chapter Text

Louis didn’t have the most restful sleep of her life with Harry next her, but she figured it could possibly count as one of the best. They’d talked once they were both in bed, though it wasn’t about anything earth shattering. Instead it was swapping stories from their childhoods and beyond. At one point, Harry recited an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem from memory as Louis stared at her, completely taken with how absolutely lovely she was.

They laid there lightly touching one another as they talked, Louis’ hand on Harry’s waist and Harry’s at Louis’ elbow, their feet brushing under the blankets. Louis’ mind kept drifting back to the kiss they’d shared earlier, aching to repeat it and yet somehow worried it would frighten Harry off. Not that she’d even hinted it would.

As Louis laid awake in the early morning light, she wondered if she was the one who was scared. It didn’t make sense. She’d had girlfriends before. She’d even gone through what Niall termed her wild phase, kissing and bedding a new woman after every poetry reading, concert, or CR group meeting at the bookstore. None of this was new for her. Except the fact that Harry felt different.

The first kiss they’d shared had felt electric, zipping through Louis from head to toe and leaving her charged and tingling. She’d wanted to stay touching Harry after that, had needed to stop herself from coming on too strong in the concert, as they walked together afterwards, and during dinner. The beers she’d had worked to loosen her up a bit, but as soon as she realized that Harry might be too drunk she pulled back again, not wanting to overstep or take more than Harry would want to offer.

When they’d finally fallen asleep it was late and they were both sober. Harry’s eyes had been drifting closed as she spoke, her voice trailing off and then coming back to life as she awoke again. Louis had kissed her forehead when she switched off the lamp, letting Harry curl against her chest to fall asleep.

Louis hadn’t really slept much, feeling instead like her heart was going to beat itself out of her ribs. The electric feeling from earlier in the night returned, awakened in her fingertips wherever they touched Harry’s skin and heightened by Harry’s breath coming in soft puffs against her neck. When she had slept, she’d dreamed she was chasing a rabbit that kept growing larger with each leap it took. It was Harry sized by the time she’d caught it, and she woke up with Harry’s hair in her mouth and one of Harry’s legs hooked over her own as though she’d been running too.

So at 6:30 in the morning, Louis was lying awake, wondering when she should wake Harry to call out from work and trying very hard not to think about having Harry in bed with her and what they could possibly do with the day ahead of them. At least one of those things was solved by Harry grunting and nuzzling her head closer to Louis’ chest before croaking out a quiet, “what time is it?” in her sleepiest morning voice.

“6:30,” Louis said, rubbing her back. “Should you call your work now?”

“Nobody’s there til 8, at least in the typing pool. Plenty of time to sleep more.” She snuggled closer, slotting her leg between Louis’ and nosing at her neck before giving her a little peck there.

Louis felt her heart stop at the gesture and at the change in their positions. She was wet from lying with Harry all night, the thought of being with her inescapable since she was so close, and she worried about it being too much but couldn’t bring herself to move away. Instead she stayed still, careful not to let herself push against Harry’s thigh.

Harry didn’t seem to have such worries, though. Tucked close to Louis, she played with the short hair at the base of Louis’ neck and moved her fingers slowly down Louis’ spine until Louis shivered at the touch, unable to hold back her reaction. With that movement, she felt Harry’s leg shift upwards until Louis’ cunt was against her thigh. Harry exhaled through her nose, a heavy huff of breath that made Louis wonder if she knew what she was doing. Louis moved against her experimentally, and Harry whimpered, and that was enough to make Louis feel as though she was ready to explode from the energy between them.

“Wanna kiss you,” Harry said into Louis’ neck. She sucked a mark there, her teeth scraping the skin before she let go. “Please, can I?”

How could Louis refuse? She ground down against Harry’s thigh and tilted her face to meet Harry’s, kissing her deeply. She tasted so human, earthy and still sleepy, and for a moment it was hard for Louis to think of why she’d been worried about any of this at all. Harry was special, yes, but she was also a woman, and Louis loved women deeply. They made her feel alive, like she mattered in the world, and she knew that loving each other was beautiful, natural, the best way to make another woman thrive. She pulled Harry closer and slid her own leg between Harry’s.

Her reaction was beyond perfect; she gasped, her hand sliding down to grip Louis’ hip, and moved closer, grinding into Louis with abandon. Her breath quickened, coming out in pants against Louis’ jaw, and Louis kissed her again, ignoring the way that their teeth bumped awkwardly in favor of appreciating the way Harry’s tongue felt pushing back against her own. When she slipped her hand beneath Harry’s shirt, she swore she could feel the pounding of Harry’s heart through every part of her skin, a heavy thrumming that mirrored the way her own heart was beating.

She tried to pull back to take a breath, but Harry wouldn’t stand for it, chasing Louis’ lips until they were back against her mouth and then humming contentedly into the kiss. They’d been moving against one another with a slowly building rhythm that was driving Louis mad. Harry would push against her, the pressure on her clit deliciously brief but just long enough to keep her wanting more. Harry’s movements were growing faster and more insistent, though, and Louis found herself wanting to slow down.

Moving both her hands up to Harry’s shoulders, Louis gripped her firmly, pulling her down as Louis slid her leg slowly against Harry’s cunt. She could feel the slickness of Harry’s arousal on her bare skin, and Harry moaned quietly, looking up into Louis’ eyes with a clear and intense gaze.

“Feels so good,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “I want you so much. I even dreamed about it last night.” Louis rocked into her again, appreciating the way her own movements made Harry move too. It reminded her of being young, fooling around with girls in the backseat of cars or just out of sight at bonfires. Only this was better. More certain, somehow.

“What’d you dream?” she asked as she felt Harry’s hand slide under her shirt. “Did you dream it was like this?” The soft touch of Harry’s fingers over her belly and ribs might’ve made Louis laugh any other time, but now she just inhaled sharply.

Harry brushed over Louis’ nipple with her thumb, shaking her head. “You were everywhere, all over me, inside me.” She cupped Louis’ breast with her palm and bit her lip. “Felt so hot. Woke up in the middle of the night and you were right there. You smell so good. Your mouth--”

Louis stopped her talking with a kiss, not able to handle hearing more. Harry was still playing with Louis’ nipple, just running her fingers back and forth over it as they kissed, and that was too much, too. Louis drew back for a moment. “Gonna take my shirt off,” she said, her voice breaking a bit as if it were a question and a statement all at once. It was, really. Harry just nodded.

They pulled apart then and stripped their shirts off, Louis first and then Harry just after. Harry whined, her eyes hungry and her pupils wide from desire and the low, filtered sunlight that was just making its way in through the windows. Louis put a hand on Harry’s chest and held her back from moving back in.

“We’ve got time if you want to go slower,” she said. She was almost as breathless and hungry as Harry, but she didn’t want it to seem like they couldn’t take their time. She’d take all day with Harry, really, let her do what she liked at whatever pace she needed. “Or if you want something. You can--” Louis hesitated, remembering that Harry might not even know what there was that she could want, let alone a way to ask for it.

Harry put her hand over Louis’ and slid it slowly down her arm and back toward her chest. “What can I do?” She said it quietly as she devoured Louis with her eyes.

“Anything,” Louis said. She meant it, and it scared her. She rolled onto her back and let Harry follow. Their legs were still intertwined, but with Harry on top of her everything felt different. This felt new again, the electric current she’d felt before coming back once more and pulsing through her so that she writhed up against Harry.

Harry looked down at her, mouth parted with awe. She was breathing heavily, like she’d run a race and Louis was the water she’d get at the end of it. She brushed both her hands over Louis’ chest and a small noise halfway between a whine and a moan escaped from her lips. “What if I want to use my mouth?” Her voice was husky and low; she really did seem parched. Louis tried to ignore the pulse of heat that thrummed inside her in favor of responding to what Harry had said.

“Mmhmm, that’s--” once given the okay, Harry didn’t hesitate to dip down and lick over Louis’ nipple. She sucked a kiss to Louis’ breast and Louis gasped. “Fuck, that’s good.” She could feel the sound Harry made against her skin as she sucked harder before pulling off and moving to the other nipple. Her hands had stilled for a moment, but as she continued her fingers began to roam over Louis’ body, up and down her sides and against the waistband of the boxer shorts she was wearing before slowly moving back up.

Louis wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, if she was honest. Most of the women she’d slept with had fingered or gone down on her happily, but they didn’t take their time like this. This felt worshipful, almost, like her body was a temple and Harry was whispering prayers to it. “You’re really amazing,” Harry said once she’d decided to detach her lips from Louis’ chest for a moment. “So beautiful.” Her gentle hands danced over Louis’ nipples again and Louis squeezed around Harry’s thigh, rubbing herself off against it and trying to rock her own leg up into Harry.

“So good, baby, you’re so good,” Louis said as she pulled Harry to her. “Perfect, fuck. So wet.” They were both were; Louis could feel herself getting closer and closer to her edge and she wanted to bring Harry with her. “Want to feel you come, can you come like this?”

Harry answered with a whine, her thighs clamping around Louis’ as she pushed herself down. “Want to, wanna come with you, please.” They rocked against each other, a steady rhythm building between them as Harry begged, “please, please, I want to,” in a breathy whisper.

Louis felt her own orgasm building, getting closer by the second, but what finally tipped her over the edge was watching Harry’s mouth drop open in a long, low moan. Harry squeezed her eyes shut at first, but then shook her head and opened them to look down at Louis, her cry growing more intense as she watched Louis’ face. Louis pulled Harry down for a kiss as soon as she could, wrapping her arms around her and wishing for a moment that she could stay that way for the rest of the day at least, if not the rest of her life.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless and sweaty. Harry collapsed against Louis’ chest, pressing a kiss there before she went boneless, and Louis simply laid next to her, trying to steady herself against the wave of emotions that slammed into her all at once: love, excitement, fear, passion, tenderness, desire-- a mix that was too potent for her to even break down properly. Love was the big one, though. She could feel “I love you” wanting to fly out of her mouth, and she tried her best to swallow it down.

“That was amazing,” Harry said once they’d both caught their breath. “I didn’t think-- I mean --I didn’t know it would be like that. So good. So…” she buried her head in the crook of Louis’ arm, and Louis waited for her to finish, stroking her arm lightly. “Intense.”

“It’s what people make it,” Louis said, still trailing her hand over Harry’s skin. “You just made it amazing because that’s what you are.” Harry giggled, and Louis was overcome with the urge to kiss her again, so she did. It was softer this time, less insistent than most of their earlier kisses. She felt “I love you” again and hummed against Harry’s lips, glad they were stopping her from being too much too soon.

Harry was blushing lightly when they stopped kissing, and Louis nudged at her side, trying to get her to say what was on her mind. She wouldn’t, though, and so they just laid there touching one another softly as the morning light grew brighter.

The ringing of Louis’ alarm clock not much later was what finally made them move a bit. Harry got out of bed, still shirtless, and used Louis’ phone to call out from work, her husky morning voice making her sound that much more convincing when she told her boss that she had some sort of cold coming on. After she’d hung up, she climbed back into bed and wrapped herself around Louis as though she’d been away for ages and not just the five minutes it took her to make her call.

“What are we doing today?” she asked, her head buried against Louis’ chest. “Haven’t had a Friday off in ages.”

Unfortunately, every plan that Louis could currently think of involved going back to sleep. Getting off made her want to doze off even when she was well slept, so having sex with Harry had left her feeling loose-limbed and lazy. “Was thinking we might go back to sleep for a bit? It’s pretty early still.”

Harry burrowed closer with a contented hum. “Sounds nice. I don’t sleep in much, either.” She kissed Louis’ chest with tiny affectionate pecks that made Louis feel warm and adored, and Louis curled up with her, eyes drifting closed before she could even think about making an effort to sleep.  

When she woke up again, it was to the sound and smell of coffee in her percolator. Harry was in the kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator in nothing but Louis’ boxer shorts as she pulled ingredients out and set them on the counter next to her. Louis watched her quietly, smiling to herself and not even wondering what time it was. She looked so lovely with the sun and fridge lights on her skin, hair messy from sex and sleep, biting her lip as she surveyed the contents of Louis’ fridge.

“There’s bread in the cabinet,” she said, not sure if that was what Harry was looking for. Harry let out a surprised little yelp and put her hand to her chest. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, love. You’re making breakfast?”

Harry scrunched her nose as she turned to Louis, a light blush rising on her cheeks. “Yes, if you don’t mind? I was trying to surprise you, but there’s not much space between the bedroom and the kitchen, really, so maybe I wasn’t being realistic.”

“Don’t care if I’m surprised, it’s still really sweet.” Louis sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and stretching in preparation of getting out of bed. “I’ll come help.” At that, Harry closed the fridge door and leapt onto the bed, crawling up toward Louis.

“No, no, no. I stayed over, I’ll make breakfast.” She caged Louis in with her arms and kissed her nose. “You stay here.”

Louis couldn’t resist pulling her close and kissing her properly, enjoying the feel of the skin on skin contact and the sweet lushness of Harry’s lips. “I’ll stay here since you’re being so persuasive. But I don’t think that’s how this kind of sleepover works.”

Harry pouted back at her. “It’s how I want this kind of sleepover to work,” she said, feigning annoyance.

“That’s alright, then. However you want it is fine, baby.” The endearment slipped out unintentionally, and Louis huffed at herself in frustration. “Sorry, sorry. I know that’s a shitty thing to call you. You’re an adult woman, not a child, and I--”

“Hush,” Harry said, clapping her hand over Louis’ mouth. “I like it. Feels different coming from you than it ever would from a man.” The smile on Harry’s face said that and more. Her eyes practically twinkled from how pleased she was.

“If you like it, baby, then I’ll call you that.” Louis kissed her neck, at the base of her throat. “Baby.” She kissed a little higher, and then higher still. “Baaaaby,” she said lower, nudging against Harry’s jaw with her nose. “Baby.” This time she whispered it, close enough to Harry’s ear to feel the warmth of her own breath reflected back against her lips. Harry shivered in her arms.

“I do like it,” Harry said. “I like it a lot.” They looked at one another for a moment, neither of them moving even though they were quite close to one another. Louis felt warm from the inside out, like loving Harry was making her whole body work harder in the best possible ways. She swallowed hard when she realized she’d just thought about loving Harry again. It was going to slip out eventually. Hopefully not too soon.

Louis leaned in and kissed Harry again. “You sure you don’t want my help? Not even with the coffee?”

“Fuck, fuck the coffee,” Harry moved off of Louis and out of the bed, running over to turn off the percolator. She poured out a little coffee and swirled in in the mug, giving it a sniff. “I think it’s a little strong, but maybe not too bad,” she said. She had a sip and made a face, sticking her tongue out a bit. “Might be better with milk.”

“That’s how I take mine. Bit of sugar, too. It’s in the container on top of the fridge.”

Harry prepared coffee for both of them, and Louis convinced her to get back in bed so they could drink it together and make a plan for the day. They went back and forth a bit, neither of them feeling particularly set on any one thing. In the end they decided to go to the Museum of Natural History. Harry hadn’t been before and Louis hadn’t gone since she was a teenager, so it seemed like a reasonable enough thing to do. Too soon, Harry was getting back out of the bed to make breakfast, begrudgingly allowing Louis to come and help her.

She made eggs on toast with tomato and cream cheese and a little side of fresh fruit that she cut up. Louis ate everything, feeling terribly spoiled with each bite. “Never had someone cook this good of a breakfast for me,” she said as she poured a bit more coffee into both of their mugs. “Feels really special.”

“I like making breakfast,” Harry said with a shrug. “It’s my favorite meal to cook.”

“That’s handy since it’s my favorite to eat,” Louis said, tickling her side. Harry batted her hand away, smiling.

“Was thinking I might take a shower before we go anywhere? I feel a little grubby after last night.” Harry had finally put her shirt back on when she started cooking breakfast, and she tugged it away from her body a bit, fanning it out as if she needed to cool off.

“I have extra towels in there. It’s nothing fancy and the pressure might bum you out a little, but it’ll get you clean.” Louis gathered up the dishes and set them in the sink, turning on the water to rinse them off. Harry hadn’t gone anywhere behind her, and so she turned off the water and looked over her shoulder, meeting Harry’s nervous gaze.

“Do you want to shower with me?” She raised her eyebrows as she waited for Louis to respond, her forehead wrinkling a bit as Louis waited to respond.

She did want to shower with Harry. Of course she did. It was just that she was almost certain she’d blurt something out about loving Harry if she did.

“It’s ok, sorry,” Harry said, shaking her head. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“No, I want to.” Louis swallowed down her doubt and the bit of worry that she had. Hopefully she could control herself, and if she couldn’t there was always the chance that Harry wouldn’t mind. “Go ahead, I’ll wash these and join you. Alright, baby?” Harry visibly softened at the endearment, like the word itself took away her nerves.

“Okay,” she said, turning around and peeling her t-shirt off. Louis admired her back for a moment before forcing herself to turn away and finish washing the dishes, rushing through the motions without really thinking. She heard the water running and the rattle of the shower curtain being pulled aside just as she set the last dish aside to dry.

The bathroom wasn’t quite full of steam, but it was on its way when she opened the door. She’d stripped off her clothes before coming in, not wanting to bother with carrying them back to the hamper, so there was nothing stopping her from joining Harry right away. She hung back for a moment anyway, watching the outline of Harry standing under the spray, stretching her arms up and letting the water run down her back.

Louis stood there staring for too long. She couldn’t help it. Women were beautiful. Harry was beautiful. And there was so much of her she hadn’t really seen yet; so much that she wanted to admire while she could. She was busy being enthralled by the long line of Harry’s legs when the shower curtain was pulled aside, shaking her from her reverie.

“I was watching you look at me.” Harry clutched the edge of the curtain close to her chest, her hair still up in a knot with little curls falling around her in the steam. “But I want you to get in.”

The shower wasn’t really easy or comfortable for two people at once. Of course that was half of the point. Louis had to steady herself with a hand on Harry’s waist, and when they traded positions so that she could stand under the spray she stayed facing Harry, both of them looking their fill.

“I just wanna keep touching you,” Harry said, reaching out to follow the path of a drop of water over the curve of Louis’ breast. “You’re so pretty, Lou. I feel like I could stay here for days.” Louis leaned into Harry’s touch and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“We’d run out of hot water and turn into walking prune women. Nothing pretty about that.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But it sounds nice, doesn’t it? Standing under warm water and just touching you.” She thumbed over Louis’ nipple softly and Louis wanted to melt under her. “Kissing you.” She stepped closer and kissed Louis’ cheek, her hand moving to Louis’ hip and down, over the curve of her ass.

Louis stroked Harry’s side in a daze, feeling warm from the water and hot from everything Harry was doing and saying.

“Making love with you,” Harry said, her voice lower and softer and somehow more timid and provocative all at once. Louis pulled her in and kissed her properly, their mouths slotting together easily. Spending days in the shower could work, she considered, if it were always like this.

She slid her hand over the soft warmth of Harry’s tummy and down into her pubic hair. It was sparser than Louis’ own, but still full and lush, and just touching it had Louis thinking of how it would feel against her nose as she sucked Harry’s clit. Moaning at the thought, she slipped one finger between Harry’s folds and rubbed over her lips. She was slick with arousal, humming into Louis’ mouth with every new movement of Louis’ hand, and the vibration of it turned Louis’ thoughts into a haze of desire.

Pulling back from their kiss, she brought her fingers up to her lips and tasted Harry’s wetness. Salt and musky and sweet and spice coated her tongue. “I think I’d rather have you out of here, actually,” she said, letting her hand fall back down so she could touch Harry again. “Taste you all day. Show you how perfect you are.”

Harry wrapped her arms around Louis’ neck, practically falling against her. “Can’t remember why we needed to get clean anyway.”

Louis couldn’t either, really. All she wanted was Harry. Harry in her bed and her kitchen and anywhere else she wanted to be. Her hands and her curls and her mouth and each lovely part of her, all wrapped up with her smile and laugh and the way she talked about poetry and music. As she pulled away to take a breath, Louis rested her head against Harry’s shoulder. “I think I’m falling for you.” It felt silly to say it out loud, but it had to be done. She wanted Harry to know that she wasn’t just messing around, that she was feeling all the things that she usually wrote poems about wanting to feel. Big, messy, loud feelings.

“I’m gone for you,” Harry whispered back to her. “Was gone from the start.”

Louis didn’t hesitate to pull Harry back into a kiss, holding her close under the water. She felt clean just being there like that. Fresh like a flower in the springtime, standing under the hissing spray of the shower and soaking up the light of Harry’s love shining on her til she was a new thing in the world. A voice in the back of her head kept on repeating ‘I love you’ so much that she felt like she must be broadcasting it. Harry had to be able to hear it with how loud it was.  

They didn’t stay in much longer, and as they turned off the water Louis realized that they hadn’t even bothered to soap up. She preferred it that way, really-- she wanted Harry’s taste on her tongue without the day washed off, wanted both of them to be sweaty and sticky and real together. They ended up in bed again, Harry laid out naked and letting Louis touch her. She licked the water off Harry’s skin and kissed her way up Harry’s thigh; she buried her face in Harry’s cunt and drank her down like holy wine, burning up with every sound of pleasure that Harry made.

When she’d made Harry come two more times Louis curled up behind her, kissing the back of her neck whenever the urge took her until the two of them dozed off. It was still light out when she woke up to Harry kissing her hands. She hummed and snuggled closer, appreciating the feel of Harry’s soft hands holding hers and the gentle brush of Harry’s plush lips against her knuckles.

She felt herself drifting back to sleep when Harry kissed the pad of her thumb, letting her mouth open just enough for her teeth to scrape over Louis’ skin. Her tongue followed soon after, and Louis let her thumb be drawn into the wetness of Harry’s mouth, wondering if she could taste herself on Louis’ skin. If she was seeking it out or noticing it at all. There was so much Harry didn’t know, hadn’t done. So much to do with her. It would’ve been overwhelming if it weren’t for the rush of excitement that Louis felt over it. As it was she was just grateful this is how they were spending their day.

Harry pulled off of Louis’ thumb and moved onto sucking her finger, her breath warm and heavy across Louis’ skin. “Bet I taste like you,” Louis whispered into Harry’s shoulder. “Best taste in the world. I’m already addicted to it.” Harry held Louis’ finger delicately between her teeth, her tongue just grazing the skin; Louis could feel her smile.

“It’s good because I taste you underneath,” Harry said when she released Louis’ finger. “Warm and earthy and a little bit like paper. Pretty.” Louis brushed her thumb over Harry’s lips and kissed her shoulder.

“Poet,” she teased. Harry giggled, kicking her legs a little. “I know you know you are, you know.”  Harry actually snorted at that.

“Can’t help but say what’s true,” she said as she wiggled against Louis. Louis grinned, dopey on whatever magical lesbian love chemicals were floating through the air around them or coursing through her veins. She wasn’t clear on the science so much as the feeling.

“Mm, what’s true. The sky is blue, lesbians are brilliant, your hair is curly and gorgeous and smells good.” Louis bit at Harry’s nape, just barely letting her teeth meet the skin but allowing her soft tongue to taste the warmth there. Harry tasted perfect, the salty sourness of her post-sex and sleep skin making Louis grin. “You smell good. But you taste better.” Louis sighed, burrowing closer to Harry. “Love you, really.”

Harry laughed, squirming against Louis. “What’d you say?” Her voice was soft-- fond and pleased and joyful --and Louis smiled, trying to recall what she’d just said. It hit her a second later, and she gasped, holding her breath for a moment before letting it out in one go.

“I just said I love you,” she said, leaning back a bit and wishing she could see Harry’s face. “Fuck. I-- I’m sorry if it’s too soon, it just fell out and I--”

“Lou,” Harry moved from Louis’ grasp for a moment, turning herself around so they were face to face. “I love you too. Maybe it’s soon but I don’t know and I don’t really care?”

Relief settled over Louis and she let herself look Harry in the eyes. “It’s such a cliche, saying it so fast. Feeling it so fast. But I can’t help it. You’re just more than I thought I was looking for.” Harry stared back at her with her eyes soft, a smile on her lips that she couldn’t seem to hold back.

“I could say the same. I know I haven’t really done this before, but being with you feels bigger than anything I could’ve imagined. It just feels right , and I always worried that it wouldn’t, you know? That I’d kiss a woman and feel wrong, or that it would be a let down like it was kissing a boy.”

“So this wasn’t a let down, then?” Louis raised her eyebrows, holding in a giggle. “You wanna keep kissing me?”

“I wanna keep kissing you all day,” Harry said, leaning into Louis’ space. “Kiss you and hold you and touch you all day.” Louis’ heart soared.

Harry stayed with her for hours, reluctantly leaving in time to get home to call her mother but promising she’d call Louis the moment that phone call ended. Louis kissed her one last time before walking her out to catch a taxi, and then went inside to write and wait for Harry’s call. Everything that came to her as she laid in bed with her notebook open was hopelessly romantic, one soppy phrase after the other. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. Not with Harry’s scent still on her pillow and the feel of her hands still all over Louis’ skin.

When the phone rang, Louis flew off the bed to answer it-- as if she hadn’t been away from Harry for just over an hour --and stayed on the line talking with Harry until both of them were yawning through their words. It felt like something special to end the call by saying, “love you, baby,” and hearing Harry answer back with her own soft, “I love you too.”  

Chapter Text

It was already warm when Harry woke up in Louis’ arms. She was a bit too sweaty to be comfortable, but she couldn’t bring herself to move from the bed and the soft but strong feeling of Louis all around her. Eventually the need to pee won out, and she slipped away from Louis’ side careful not to disturb her.

They’d developed a routine by now, nearly a month into seeing each other. Harry woke up early, Louis somehow sleeping through her getting out of bed and sometimes tripping over herself on the way to the bathroom, and then made tea and sat by the window for a while til she knew Louis would be ready to get up, at which point she’d start making coffee. That always made Louis stir.

Harry didn’t mind it at all. She liked having a bit of morning for herself, and she’d either read a book from one of Louis’ endless piles or write something of her own or, when they’d had a particularly lovely time the night before, she’d watch Louis sleep and think about all of the things they could do with one another. She knew their life together couldn’t always be as idyllic as it was now; inevitably they’d fight or have growing pains or be unsure of what would come next, but for now things were really good. And on certain mornings she could see nearly endless possibilities for the two of them, each one better than the last.

This particular morning was one of those. Harry sat by the window wearing nothing but a sleeveless shirt and panties and sipped from a mug of Woman’s Earth tea that Zayn had made, trying to appreciate any coolness she could get before the day grew warm. She listened to the quiet sounds that Louis made as she slept and wondered what it would be like to move to the country and raise goats together. It would be hard, but they’d both rise to it beautifully, and at night they’d write side by side on the couch, their feet tangled. The country was the best part of the fantasy, of course. The airy solitude of having every window open and not worrying that anyone might wander up, the two of them living in their own place but having women as their nearest neighbors.

Harry grabbed her notebook from her bag and started to write a poem about it, thinking of waking up warm in Louis’ arms somewhere green, not worrying or caring what her family would say or think about them. “I just want it to be you and I forever,” she said softly, writing the words as they came to her. She was so caught up in writing that she didn’t notice when Louis woke up, not glancing at her until she heard the creaking of the mattress springs when Louis was getting out of bed.

“Sor-- there’s no coffee yet, love. I was writing.” Harry mentally congratulated herself for not apologizing for having taken time for herself instead of feeling obligated to make coffee in keeping with their usual morning routine. It was a hard habit to unlearn, but Louis was supportive, and often reminded her that there was nothing to be sorry for in situations like these.

“Anything you’ll let me read this time?”

“Not yet,” Harry said, clutching her notebook to her chest. “Nothing’s ready. Or not ready-ready yet.”

“Maybe it could be Helen Reddy? I am woman, hear my poem?” Louis raised her eyebrows and Harry laughed, shaking her head.

“I am strong, Lou. You’re not getting in here til I’m ready.” Harry tapped the notebook twice and slid it back into her bag. “Besides we have more important things to do than workshop my poetry.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Louis was clearly still in a teasing mood. She knew perfectly well what they were doing later. Harry got up from her window seat and wrapped her arms around Louis from behind. She kissed Louis’ bare arm and shoulder first and then quickly sucked a love bite onto her neck, Louis yelping in response.

“You know what we’re doing today, goose.” She tickled Louis’ ribs for good measure and then let her pull away to get breakfast together for the two of them.

“Have you thought up any slogans?” Louis asked as she grabbed yogurt and berries from the fridge. “There were some good ones at that protest this week, right?”

Harry plucked one of the blueberries from the carton and nodded. “Yeah, I liked the one that said ‘closets should be for clothes’ although I don’t think I’m the best person to carry that one.” Harry rolled her eyes at herself for even mentioning it and sighed. “But I think I want to do some Anita Bryant ones. Something like ‘orange you glad to be a dyke’ or ‘being gay is better than orange juice’ maybe?”

“I like those,” Louis nodded, sprinkling granola over their bowls of fruit and yogurt. “We’re gonna have the best t-shirts and signs at Stonewall 8, baby.”

They kissed over their breakfast and ended up sharing two cups of coffee because Harry was still drinking her tea and insisted she didn’t need her own coffee even though she knew she did sort of want a cup. Louis didn’t mind it, or at least said she didn’t, though the first time Niall had watched Harry take a sip from Louis’ coffee mug at the bookstore she’d frozen in her tracks and stared for a bit too long, as though she was waiting for Louis to flip her lid.

Louis liked her. Loved her, even. And while knowing it felt nice, experiencing it in that way made it feel even nicer.

The meeting was at noon, but Harry had offered to arrive a little early to help Zayn and Liam set up and was planning to bring Louis along with her. Liam had invited some women from Lesbian Feminist Liberation to come over and make signs and shirts for the march at the end of the month. The way they were talking about it, this year was going to be even bigger than it had been in years past, and Harry could barely handle her excitement when she let herself really think about it.

“Do you think we’ll really shut down the street?” Harry had her arm linked with Louis’ as they walked down Broadway. It was still early enough on a Saturday that the city felt different than it did most weekdays, and Harry couldn’t help but feel at ease with Louis beside her. “I mean I know it’s going to be big, but to actually shut it down? Without a permit or anything?”

“We have before, and I’m sure we will this year. Plus you’ll be there front and center, right?”

“Yes, but that’s not--”

“Then it’s going to be the most amazing march we’ve ever had.” Louis said it so matter-of-factly, as if there was no denying the truth in her statement, and when she looked at Harry she had a soft smile. Sincere and sweet. All Harry could do was squeeze her arm a little tighter and think about how wonderful Louis was.

As they got closer to Liam and Zayn’s loft, the atmosphere became more and more subdued. It was strange to see a part of the city that Harry thought of as so vibrant being so still and quiet. There were no delicatessens or corner coffee shops open, nobody standing out on the streets.

“It’s always so weird coming here on weekends. We’re in the city that never sleeps and it feels like Rip Van Winkle around here.” Harry ran her fingers over one of the grates that was pulled down to block off a doorway.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be here,” Louis said with a shrug. “But Zayn says there’s a whole art community bubbling up. There’s even a group of dykes doing some kind of installation in  a loft a few streets over.” She looked up at one of the buildings and Harry followed her gaze, wondering what was inside what looked like an old factory. “I mean maybe this is where we’re headed. The death of industry and the rise of women and artists and gays.”

“Do you think? It feels like we’re on the edge of something, doesn’t it? Like anything could tip the whole thing over at any moment and we could dive in and really build something new.” When Harry looked back to Louis, she saw the fire in her eyes.

“Yeah, it feels that way, doesn’t it? Like it’s our turn.” She shouted up a greeting and slid her hand down to hold Harry’s as she pulled open the iron grate to get into Zayn and Liam’s loft. They were quiet as they made their way up the stairs, so they could hear it the moment that the door opened and music came spilling out to greet them, Liam not far behind.

“Welcome, wimmin!” Liam grinned at them. She was letting her hair grow out a bit and she looked like a puppy who’d been basking in the sunlight, her biceps tanned and the tip of her nose sunburned lightly. She held open her arms for a hug, and Harry and Louis circled their arms around her. “So happy to have you with us,” she said as she let them go. “The other wimmin won’t be here for at least an hour or more, so the five of us will have time together.”

“Five?” Louis peeked over Liam’s shoulder and then turned to look at Harry with her eyebrows raised before entering the apartment. “Niall, what happened to ‘Saturday is our biggest day and we couldn’t possibly be closed for even a minute of it?”

Niall was on the couch, an iced beverage in one hand and the paper in the other. “Harry! And Louis, with too many questions as usual.” She smiled at Harry with a twinkle in her eye, and Harry went to make herself some tea and listen to the inevitable teasing banter that was about to take place, Niall insisting that she’d given Louis no grief about coming late to work on a Saturday to make signs for the march and Louis countering back that she most certainly had.

Of course Harry had been there for Niall’s grousing the week before, but in the end Niall had told Louis to take whatever time she needed. And she hadn’t mentioned that she’d be there too, leaving Womon’s Direction closed for much of Saturday, but it made sense when Harry thought about it.

“Is it really that hard to believe, darling? Niall was at Stonewall, of course she’s coming to make signs.” Harry put her hand on Louis’ shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Obviously she should be here,” Louis said. Harry could practically hear her eyeroll. “But she didn’t need to make such a fuss about me coming as well, did she?”

“Eh, what would the fun be if I didn’t mess you about a little? You know I don’t mind it when we close up for things like this. We would’ve hosted if I didn’t expect someone to spill paint all over.” She looked at Harry pointedly, and now it was Harry’s turn to be offended, or at least pretend to be.

“I’m very neat with paints! I made plenty of signs in school without spilling. Much, anyway.” She stuck her tongue out at Niall, who cackled, her eyes sparkling.

“Right, right! We’ll see who spills first. Maybe I’ll take wagers.”

Harry was just about to send a volley back when Zayn walked into the room. She was wearing an old Olivia t-shirt and a pair of what appeared to be Liam’s overalls, her long hair tied back in a low ponytail. Somehow she still managed to look gorgeous, Harry thought.

“We live in a converted old factory, wimmin. This floor’s seen paint and more in its long life.” She smiled and went to give Harry a hug, Harry falling into her arms easily. Of all of Louis’ friends, she and Zayn had connected the most. Zayn seemed to know about all the things that Harry had wondered about but never been able to learn through books or conversations with Bobbi or Louis or any other lesbian she’d met. She knew about herbs and tarot and putting intentions into candles-- the kinds of things that, even if they weren’t being taught to her by a lesbian, her mother still wouldn’t approve of.

She’d also been encouraging Harry to sing and to use her words as inspiration, if not just singing them directly. Harry didn’t expect to be as good as Zayn or to find any sort of success with it, but she loved it just the same, and felt like it made her just a bit more confident about sharing her work with other people.

“Your energy feels grounded today,” Zayn said as she pulled away. “Earth tea this morning?” Harry nodded.

“It’s amazing how you do that.”

Zayn just shook her head and smiled. “Observation and intuition, sister. You’ll get there.” It didn’t always feel that way to Harry, but today it did. She spent a moment catching up with Zayn, asking about a song that Zayn had been writing when they’d gotten together for dinner a few nights before. “It’s coming along,” Zayn said quietly, smiling to herself. “It’s become a celebration of my love for Liam, how special she is to me. I think you’ll like it.”

“I know I will.” She pulled at the hem of her shirt, considering for a moment if she should say what she wanted. “Still can’t believe we don’t have a whole album of yours. It’s not fair.”

“It’ll come, sister. Everything in its time.” Zayn put a comforting hand on Harry’s back. “The wimmin at Olivia will still support me, and this space will work for recording. If it doesn’t, I’m sure Li wouldn’t mind us going out to the country somewhere for me to put down a few tracks.” She looked over at Liam, who was currently shaking a small canister of paint with one hand, a soft smile on her face.

“She misses it?”

“She doesn’t say so, but I can tell. The little garden she’s been able to cobble together on the roof isn’t enough for her. My earth womon.” Liam must’ve felt or heard Zayn talking about her, as she took that moment to look up and smile over at Zayn and Harry, her eyes crinkling with happiness. Without thinking, Harry’s gaze drifted over to Louis, who looked up at her and grinned, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out. Harry laughed hard enough that Louis ended up looking down abruptly, almost as though she expected to get in trouble for it. Zayn just shook her head at the two of them.

They didn’t get many signs made at first, taking the time to talk and joke with one another instead. Liam did manage to bring out all of their paints and brushes as well as the pots of glue and sticks they’d use to give some of their signs handles. It was a perfect start to the afternoon for Harry.

By the time a few other women arrived, Harry felt the energy shift to one of action. They started out by sitting in a circle and sharing ideas-- what they felt needed to be said and the most effective ways to say it --and Harry found herself speaking up more than she thought she might, her ideas flowing freely. She had a lot of opinions about the Anita Bryant related signs in particular.

“She’s a singer, so we can say something like ‘Anita’s message is off-key’ or something like that. And orange puns, of course. ‘Orange you glad love can win’ or ‘100% Pure Lesbian Concentrate’ with the logo from the album?”

Her suggestions were mostly appreciated, and in the end they collectively agreed on about fifteen slogans that they all thought would be good to have at the march. They were getting down to painting when another group of women arrived. The woman nearest to Harry-- Pam, the singer who’d opened for Zayn at the show a couple of months before --got up to greet them, giving each of them hugs before turning to the group to introduce them.

“I invited a few friends, I hope it’s alright with everyone,” she said, gesturing for them to sit down as the other women gathered nodded. “Good! I wasn’t sure they’d make it. This is Alice, Kay, and Elise. Women, I think you know most of us here. This is Harry,” Harry looked up at the women to give them a wave in greeting, only to find herself staring for a moment, trying to remember why these women looked familiar. “And of course this is Liam and Zayn’s home, but I think you must have met them at the show in April.”

It struck Harry almost immediately then. The women looked familiar because they were the ones who’d sat behind her at the show, talking about Zayn so horribly. Her stomach turned at the thought. She watched them carefully, anxious for what they might say.

“Oh, um. Thanks, Pam. Hi,” Alice said. She tucked her hair behind her ears, casting a glance over her shoulder to her friends. The two behind her scowled back at her as she widened her eyes at them. Harry happened to have the perfect vantage point to watch it all happen, and so she did, waiting to see if any of them would say anything or if they’d just choose to leave.

“Happy to join my fellow women ,” Elise said, looking around the room and pointedly avoiding nodding in Zayn’s direction. The other woman she was with followed suit before they all sat down. Harry huffed quietly, her mouth set in a hard line as she looked at her sign and tried to think of the best alternatives to starting a fight with these women.

The rest of the group didn’t seem to pay them any mind, though, instead turning their attention right back to the signs they had been painting. Louis was the exception. When Harry looked toward her she was looking back with a questioning gaze. Harry just grimaced and cast her eyes to the women who’d just sat down. They were just far enough apart that Harry couldn’t whisper to her, so instead she just shrugged and shook her head, hoping the women wouldn’t do anything terrible.

As the new women settled in with paper and paints, everyone started talking again. Nobody was speaking loudly, and Harry had been quiet before anyway, so instead she listened to the women for any negative remarks they might make. She hadn’t known Zayn before, but not saying something at the show that night had stuck with Harry. As she’d fallen more in love with Louis and gotten closer with all of her friends, she’d looked back at that night with a lingering sense of shame. Zayn wouldn’t judge her for it, she knew-- she was too generous for that --but she judged herself. Nobody deserved to be treated the way those women had treated Zayn.

Harry was putting finishing touches on her sign when she thought to look over at what the other women were doing on their own. Pam and Alice were working on slogans that the group had agreed on, but Elise and Kay were collaborating on a sign that was written in bright red paint that read “No Penis Between Us! LESBIAN WOMYN UNITE!” Harry immediately felt her heart start to race. She cleared her throat, wishing for water or a cup of earth tea.

“Elise? Kay?” Harry waited for them to look up at her, a knot tightening in her stomach. They paused for a moment and looked up at her in unison while most of the other women around them kept painting. “You weren’t here for it, but as a group we decided on some slogans we wanted to paint on our signs. The one you’ve made doesn’t really fit with the rest.”

“What?” Kay scoffed. “This is the sign we’re making because it’s the sign we, as women, want to make.” Elise nodded beside her.

“Also we don’t join in collective process with men. So anything you came up with before we arrived isn’t part of our politics any way.” Elise smiled back at Harry, completely smug, and then turned her attention back to her sign.

“There are no men here,” Harry said quietly, her voice icy and sharp as she stared at Elise, waiting for her to look up and meet her eyes. “And if you believe there are then you need to leave.”

Elise and Kay exchanged a look, and then Kay turned to Harry and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Listen, sister. You look like you’re new to this scene-- I know I’ve never seen you around --so maybe you don’t understand what’s going on. But he ,” she motioned to Zayn with her thumb, “isn’t a woman. He doesn’t bleed like us and he wasn’t raised like we were. Some of us know it and everyone else is just fooling themselves.”

She’d raised her voice enough that the people nearest to them had at least caught onto her tone and stopped their work, turning to investigate what was going on. Harry swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath.

“I may be new to this life, but I know who my sisters are. And she’s one of them,” Harry said, nodding toward where Zayn was holding a paintbrush with Liam, their faces both focused on the poster they were painting. Harry was grateful nothing that Kay said had traveled that far. “It took me one evening with her to know that truth. And if you can’t see it after however long you’ve been playing at caring for women-- at loving and centering and believing in all of us --you’re the one who needs to get with it.”

“You really think you can just get us to leave?” Elise said, her face contorting oddly. “Just because you want to welcome predators-- men --into women’s spaces doesn’t mean that anyone--”

“Leave. Now.” Harry could feel the blood rushing to her face as she tried to swallow down her righteous anger. Her voice was quiet but she pinned Elise and Kay with her stare, her jaw set with determination. She started to tell them to get out once more when a pair of legs appeared behind the other women.

“Elise, Kay,” Liam said solemnly, “you need to go. Now.” She turned and looked down at Pam and Alice, who had stopped working on their signs and were openly staring at the scene that unfolded before them. “The two of you can go with them if you share their beliefs.” Liam’s voice was cool and hard, all trace of her usual friendliness gone. Pam shook her head.

“Zayn is my sister and one of the strongest supporters of other women I know. I’m staying. And I didn’t think--” she paused, giving Alice a long, hard look, “I didn’t realize how deep their hatred went.”

“I’d like to stay,” Alice said, her hand over Pam’s. “I just-- I want to stay.” She didn’t look at Elise and Kay, focusing her gaze on Liam instead. “If you don’t mind.” Liam gave her a small nod and Harry heard her quiet exhale. The other women left without saying anything else, only huffing when Liam stepped on the poster they’d made and shook her head when they tried to take it. After they’d walked out the door she got down and painted over their words with a thick layer of red paint, not stopping till the edges curled up slightly and all the words were obscured.

Harry got up and went to find Zayn in the kitchen. She was smoking at the open window, a glass of sun tea in one hand.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, rubbing at Zayn’s back. “I was trying to get them to just go without much fuss.”

“Women like that don’t ever leave without a fuss. They’ll blame this all on me, too.” Zayn shook her head and took a deep drag from her cigarette. “Probably say I stood over them and raged til they were scared I might hurt them.”

“They won’t--”

“Harry.” Zayn’s voice cracked with emotion. “They will . That’s what they’ve been doing since the day they found out I’m trans. Letters, phone calls, threats, all of it based on the idea that I’m the enemy, that I’m a monster.”

“It’s bullcrap. You, Zayn-- you’re so kind. Those women just told me I didn’t belong here and that they didn’t have to listen to me. Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” Zayn shook her head as she stubbed her cigarette out. “You told me I could take up space. And I was so scared just being in women’s space like that, being at the concert and hoping Louis would remember me at all. But then you said that and it felt like I did belong there.”

Zayn smiled back at Harry fondly. “I do remember that, now that you say it. You were so nervous it was like I could feel your energy vibrating.” They shared a laugh.

“You should never feel like you’re anything less than an amazing woman. A real sister in struggle.” Harry opened her arms and pulled Zayn in for a hug.

“Let’s go make a few more signs,” Zayn said, nodding back toward where the rest of the group was still settled. Harry could hear that the conversation had gotten louder and a little more boisterous, Niall cackling as Louis’ voice rose up in a shout. Harry joined her on the floor, scooting in close to kiss her cheek. Louis hummed her approval.

“That was good, baby,” she whispered, leaning closer to Harry. “I was trying to figure out what was going on with you when they came in, so I was listening in as much as I could.” She stroked Harry’s leg softly. “And you know you belong here, right? With or without me or anyone.”

“I don’t want to be without you, though,” Harry said before turning her head to give Louis a kiss. Louis let it happen, but turned serious almost immediately after.

“Nobody gets to say who’s in or out.”

“Definitely not them,” Harry said, resting her head on Louis’ shoulder. “And I wouldn’t want to either.” Louis pulled Harry into a kiss, her mouth warm and inviting and comforting after the stress of what had just happened. Harry felt herself sinking into it when she noticed something soft land against her arm.

“Get a room,” Niall said with a laugh as she tossed another ball of paper at Harry and Louis. “Preferably not one here or at the bookstore, though.” Harry rolled her eyes and Louis shook her head, grabbing the paper that Niall had thrown and tossing it back at her while Niall raised her hands weakly. “Honor your elders!” She tried to shout, but her laughter was too strong.

Niall ended up staying, deciding that the bookstore could be closed for the day as long as Louis didn’t mind not getting paid since she wasn’t working. Louis made a fuss, but only for a moment before Harry stopped her. Not working meant that she was free for the night.

“Come to mine,” Harry said, nuzzling into Louis’ neck. “We never get to stay there together.” It made sense that they didn’t get to, and it really didn’t bother Harry too much. Louis’ apartment had started to grow on her, from the coziness of it to Louis’ collection of teas that Zayn made for her. But her own apartment was still larger, and Harry wanted to know what it would feel like to have Louis there in it with her.

“Alright, baby. We’ll go to yours, then.”

They stayed a while longer, neither of them ready to stop making signs or socializing, and when they finally said their goodbyes and made their way to Harry’s, they were both hungry, their backs hurting from being in odd positions all day long and their hands stained with leftover bits of paint. Harry ordered Chinese food for delivery while Louis went to get cleaned up, and Harry took the moment of alone time to water her slightly neglected plant.

“Hi darling, you still look lovely don’t you? Not minding that I leave you alone every few days, right?” She stroked the leaves tenderly, inspecting the tips to see if they looked dried out at all. “You’re resilient, aren’t you? I should’ve known.”

“Talking to your plant?” Louis said, startling Harry. She’d walked up so quietly-- unusual for her --that Harry hadn’t even noticed her approaching.

“Yes. She was my only friend when I first moved here and now I spend enough time with you that I worry about her sometimes, you know?” Harry wondered if Louis did know, actually. She didn’t really have any plants of her own.

Louis shrugged. “I feel like that about my books sometimes, but of course they don’t require watering.”  

“Hate it, in fact.” Harry raised her eyebrows at Louis and pulled her closer. “Did you ever have plants? Or no?”

“Black thumb, honestly. If I ever move to the country it’ll have to be with Liam so that she can grow the food. You too, right?”

“I’ve never grown any food before. Mother keeps roses, of course, but she tends to them herself. And a gardener looks after the lawn and helps her out with the roses if they’re not behaving. She thinks growing your own food isn’t proper.”  

Harry watched Louis roll her eyes in annoyance and felt a sudden, odd burst of protective energy for her mother and herself. “She takes good care of the roses, though. She prunes them back when it’s time and she’s even won prizes for them. I’m sure she could grow plenty of food if she wanted to, but we never really needed it, did we?”

Louis put her hands on Harry’s waist and gave her a soft smile. “There’s nothing wrong with not growing your own food. It’s just funny to me, is all. Your mother treats you like those roses, and I think maybe you’re meant to be food.”

“Are you saying you want to eat me?” Harry cocked an eyebrow, making a joke even though she knew Louis was trying to be serious in the moment.

“Well, I do want that, but it’s not what I meant,” Louis said, tickling Harry’s side with gentle pokes of her fingertips. “I mean she wants you to be something admired and delicate, and you’re, well, you are those things but you’re also sturdy and strong and a little bit dirtier than she might like.”

“What am I like, then?” Harry slid her own arms under Louis’ to pull them closer together. “A cabbage?”

“Mon petit chou!” Louis grinned as Harry stuck out her tongue. “Umm. Maybe a carrot, because you’re so long and lovely. Or a strawberry, because--”

“Because I’m a fruit?”

Louis groaned. “Because you’re sweet and sunny and I love you.”

Harry tipped forward to kiss Louis, feeling her open up immediately. She hummed into the kiss, desire welling up inside her the longer it continued. She had Louis against the kitchen counter and pushed up on her hips, hoping Louis would get the hint and hoist herself up. When she broke the kiss to get on the counter, Harry couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Louis asked with a dazed look on her face.

“I love you too, is all.” Harry leaned in to start kissing Louis again, her heart skipping a beat when she felt Louis wrap her legs around her middle, her bare feet brushing against Harry’s ass. If it were an option, Harry figured that staying there just like that-- kissing her girlfriend in her own quiet kitchen --would be how she’d want to live the entire rest of her life.

The ringing of her phone reminded her that unfortunately that wasn’t possible. She grumbled as she pulled away from Louis to answer it, hoping it wasn’t the one person she expected it to be.

“Hello, Styles residence, this is Harriet speaking,” she said as Louis crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue to try to make her giggle. Harry just shook her head fondly and tried to stay focused.

“Finally, Harry! I’ve tried you so many times and you’re never home, even if Mother says she’s just talked with you.” Hearing Gemma’s voice immediately made Harry feel just a little more relaxed. She’d been sure the call would’ve been from her mother.

“Sorry, sometimes I’ve had to call Mother from a friend’s house. You haven’t mentioned it to her, have you?”

“Not really, no.” Gemma paused for just a moment, her tone turning gossipy when she continued. “So...what kind of friend, hm? Jean said you never called her; did you meet a man at work?”

“No, it’s not a man. Sorry to disappoint.” Harry looked at Louis and rolled her eyes dramatically, mouthing the word “sorry” at her silently.

Gemma clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Too bad. Have you been going on dates, then?” Before Harry could answer, she continued.  “I hope you’re staying safe down there. You know you’re just that murderer’s type, don’t you? Long dark hair, slim...Mother won’t stop bringing it up to Father at Sunday dinners. She’s so worried about you.”

“I’m staying safe, I promise. I don’t go out alone after dark. Honestly I’m practically a recluse, Gems.” Harry’s buzzer rang then, loud and surprising, and Harry had to bite back  a curse at the the sound.

“What was that? Is everything al--”

“The buzzer, just the buzzer. I ordered Chinese food.” Louis went to the door to wait for the food, opening it slightly to watch for the delivery person.

“You can’t reach the door from where the phone is, though. You have someone over, don’t you? You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell Mother. What’s his name?”

Harry froze as she watched Louis with the delivery person. Part of her wanted to tell Gemma everything, just get it all out to someone who’d known her forever, and part of her wanted to hang up the phone and hide. “Her name is Louis,” she said, compromising with herself.

“Oh, you have a girlfriend over! Why didn’t you say so? We can talk some other time if you’d like.”

A girlfriend. As in one of many platonic friends who were girls-- women, Harry corrected --and not one particular, wonderful, amazing woman whom she loved. Harry swallowed hard. “Not just a girlfriend, actually. She’s...are you sitting down, Gems, can you sit down I mean?” Harry could feel her heart racing as she twisted the phone cord around her hand tightly. Louis had taken the food into the kitchen and Harry wondered vaguely if she could hear anything Harry was saying. It wasn’t so far.

“Okay, I’m sitting. You’re acting freaky, Harry. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I need you to promise not to say anything to Mother about this.”

“I can’t promise if I don’t know what you’re going to say. But I don’t tell her everything, you know that.”

“It’s just that Louis isn’t just a friend. She’s more than that. I’m in love with her, I mean.” Harry heard a clatter and looked up to see Louis staring at her, dumbfounded, her hand at her side and the forks and spoons she’d been holding on the kitchen floor.

“I don’t understand,” Gemma said, tugging Harry’s attention back to the phone. Her voice had gone a bit thin and reedy.

“I’m in love with her. The way you’re in love with Michael.” Harry untwisted the phone cord from her hand and let it fall away as she stood still, wondering if she’d just said the worst possible thing. Her mind began racing a mile a minute: what if Gemma told Mother? Where would Harry live? Would any of them speak to her again?

“I won’t tell Mother,” Gemma said quietly, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. Before Harry could thank her, she continued. “There’s no point in worrying her if it’s just a phase. I know plenty of people who experimented and went on to be completely normal.”

“Oh,” Harry said around a lump in her throat. “Right, well. Thanks for not telling her. I should eat dinner now.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you again, ok?” Gemma sounded as upset as Harry felt, and so Harry swallowed down her own feelings.

“Ok. I love you?”

Gemma sighed. “I love you too, Harry.”

Louis grabbed onto Harry the moment she hung up the phone, wrapping her arms around Harry so tightly that it felt like her body was holding all of Harry’s broken bits together in their appropriate Harry shape. “That was so brave, do you know that? You’re so brave, baby,” she said quietly, laying gentle kisses down over Harry’s skin.

“She doesn’t want me to talk about it again,” Harry said, her voice breaking. “She thinks it’s a phase. I shouldn’t have told her, I--”

Louis pushed away the tears that were starting to fall from Harry’s eyes and stroked her hair. “Hey, don’t say that, yeah? You told her because you thought it was the right thing to do then, and that’s all that matters. This was your first time coming out to someone, right?”

Harry nodded, looking in Louis’ eyes and feeling bolstered by the love she saw shining out at her. “It just happened. You were there and she thought you might be a man and she called you a girlfriend and I wanted her to know. So I said it. I can’t un-say it, though. I just didn’t think--”

“Her first reaction might not be her only reaction, right?” Harry felt more tears spill from her eyes. She wanted the answer to be no, but she couldn’t see that happening. “You know Liam’s mom said she’d never understand it, and now she’s visited every land Liam has lived on for the past few years.”

“Really?” Harry sniffled. “What changed her mind?”

“Time? Love? A lot of things. My ex thought her brother would never talk to her again, and they aren’t as close as before but he still invited her to his wedding. And Zayn’s sisters didn’t understand her at first, but she’s been there for the births of all their kids so far. People figure things out. They love you and they work on it.”

“Not always, though.” Harry couldn’t help but think of Louis’ family. How they lived close enough to visit but never did and how they’d just let her go when they found out about her.

“No, not always. But you’d be surprised. Give her time, yeah?” Louis looked at Harry expectantly until Harry nodded back at her slowly.

“Yeah.”

“And no matter what, you were amazing tonight. You just did that on your own, Harry!” She gave Harry a squeeze. “It’s like you grabbed a parachute and jumped from a plane without any training, and now here you are. You landed. You made it.”

“I made it, and I’m with you.”

“And I’m not going anywhere without you.” Louis pressed her lips against Harry’s, the touch firm and reassuring and solid. She smiled as she pulled away. “We do have Chinese to eat, though. And then a bed to get into together. Shall we?”

It wasn’t an eternity of kissing in the kitchen, but Louis was there with her for other things too. For a life, maybe, even if knowing that so soon seemed unbelievable. “We shall.”

Chapter Text

Louis walked from her apartment to Christopher Street, her fingers twined with Harry’s. They weren’t the only ones headed to the march, and even though this wasn’t her first time going, this one felt different, the energy more charged and electric. Casting a glance at Harry, Louis wondered momentarily if it was just being with her that was making it feel so much more significant.

Harry looked even more radiant than usual, her cheeks pink from being in the sun and her hair in two lovely braids that didn’t let her hide her smile or the excited look in her eyes. She was wearing a lavender sundress with a t-shirt of Louis’ pulled on over it and knotted at the bottom. When she’d pulled it out of a pile of laundry a few days before she’d giggled over the words printed on front-- ‘we are not just good friends’ --and asked to wear it to the march. Of course Louis had said yes.

It had only been a couple of months since they’d started getting to know one another, but Louis found herself falling harder for Harry with every passing day. They stayed together most nights, Harry coming to the bookstore and sitting in one of the chairs reading or writing with Sappho curled up in her lap while Louis worked. They’d started sharing more of their poetry with one another, and were talking about putting together a chapbook and hosting a new reading series at the store. They’d even collaborated once or twice, swapping lines back and forth until they’d cobbled together something they both rather liked.

Harry seemed to be just as caught up in their romance as Louis was. Some mornings when Louis awoke she’d see Harry watching her, either from bed or from where she sat near the window for her morning tea. When she knew she’d been caught she’d blush and try to look away, but her eyes would always drift back over to Louis’ a moment later when she realized that Louis wanted to watch her too.

“We’re so close. Do you think we’ll find everyone?” Harry pushed herself up on tiptoes to try to see over the crowds that were gathering along Christopher Street.

“Even if we don’t find them here, we’re bound to run into them eventually. The march is like its own small town. You see everyone you’ve ever met and a few people you wish you didn’t know. Trust me.” Louis gripped Harry’s hand a little tighter and smiled as she saw Harry wrinkle her nose, still looking out for their friends. “We have our signs and we’ve said we’ll take the subway back downtown together, so at the very least we’ll meet up and go from there once we’re done.”

“But we should march with Niall and Liam and Zayn,” Harry said, her mouth twisting into a worried frown.

“It’ll be okay, baby. It moves pretty slowly at first, so we should have time to find them where we said we would.” Louis had no sooner said that than she saw Niall’s familiar cap ahead of them and to the right. “Nialler!” Harry nearly jumped at Louis’ shouting, but it had the desired effect: Niall turned around and saw Louis almost immediately. She stepped aside from the crowd and waited for Louis and Harry to catch up with her.

“Thought I might have to run into the two of ya in the march. Crowd’s really something! Haven’t felt this kind of energy in eight years.” Niall grinned as she surveyed the crowd of people around them, all sorts of men and women dressed in political t-shirts or their loudest outfits.

“You know you say that every year, right?” Louis laughed when Niall rolled her eyes.

“Because it’s true every year!” Harry and Niall said at almost the same time.

“She’s got you too, huh Harry?” Louis shook her head and bit back a laugh. “Wait til you see her with Stormé. The two of them get going about what it was like then and it’s unbelievable.”

Niall crossed her arms and gave Louis a stern look. “You didn’t stop talking about Stormé for a whole month after you first met her. Think you even wrote a poem about her, didn’t you?”

“I did indeed,” Louis said, finally letting herself have a real laugh at how indignant Niall was. “But winding you up never stops being fun.”

“Oh! I think I see Zayn and Liam over there!” Harry was on her tiptoes again, ignoring Louis and Niall’s play fighting as she often did. She jumped up a couple of times, waving her free arm wildly until she saw Liam wave back and start heading toward them. “We’ll all get to march together now. Can you believe it?”

Louis tried to contain the fond grin that she could feel spreading over her face, but it was hopeless. “You’re so fucking adorable,” she said as Harry turned her attention away from Zayn and Liam’s approach. Harry leaned in for a kiss almost automatically. She was smiling so hard that she was mostly receiving a kiss more than giving one, but it was one of Louis’ favorite ways to kiss her, so she couldn’t much mind.

Niall groaned, feigning annoyance, as Liam and Zayn walked up. “Won’t get much marching done with these two. They’ll probably have to stop for a necking session every two blocks.”

Harry pulled away from Louis momentarily to protest. “Lesbian love is a radical act in all its forms, thank you very much. If we decide to kiss it’s just as good as any sign we could hold up.” Louis felt her heart swell at everything Harry said, because she meant it.

“Well said, womon.” Zayn raised her fist in the air and Harry nodded back at her decisively.

“Eh, they know I’m joking. But we need to get a move on if we want to be up front. Let’s go.” Niall led the way, somehow cutting through the crowd with a polite sort of efficiency that Louis mostly attributed to her Irish accent and the smart way she dressed. They reached the step off point much sooner than they might have if she’d been leading the group or if she and Harry had been on their own.

The sidewalks were packed, people already spilling out into the streets in spite of the march not having started yet. A few women who Louis recognized were arguing with several overdressed men and women who looked like politicians just trying to get in good with their gay constituents by showing up to march. Louis watched as the women shook their heads, yelling something and pointing back towards where the crowd was getting bigger. By the looks of things, they won-- the politicians begrudgingly stepped back and let the women go up front.

“Dykes leading the march! It’s a blessed day, sisters!” Liam had one hand on Zayn’s shoulder, raising the other up in the air as she shouted. Beside them, Harry let out a laugh, her excitement bubbling over. She’d probably be wired for the rest of the night, even after walking uptown.

“We’re gonna step off any minute.” Niall nodded toward the women at the front of the march. “Stay together and be loud. Let ‘em know we’re still full of fight.” One of the women up front blew a whistle, the shrill sound cutting through the noise of the crowd. As she stepped down onto the street and began moving, she and the women around her started up a chant.

“Out of the closet! Into the streets!”

The crowd picked it up easily, Louis’ heart soaring at the sounds of so many men and women shouting about being out and proud. Though she’d experienced this very thing before, it felt different with Harry beside her, squeezing her hand tightly. She felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and tried her best to hold them in, but it was useless the moment she turned and looked at Harry. Brave, bold, beautiful Harry.

She was glowing, her smile wider than Louis had ever seen it, and her cheeks were wet with tears. She was chanting with the crowd, her voice strong and clear in spite of her tears. Louis felt a laugh bubble up out of her as she let her own tears fall a bit, not caring if anyone might judge her. Why should she when the people she cared for most were right there with her, their hearts out on the line as well?

The crowd kept pushing them forward, not in a way that felt dangerous but simply because there were so many people, all of them ready to take over the city streets. Niall kept her arm out, protecting Louis and Harry and Liam and Zayn as though they were her flock-- a bit like a mother hen, though Louis knew she’d hate that comparison.

Soon enough the march began to spread out a bit, leaving some room between their group and the people around them. The chants changed every once in a while, one fading out slowly and giving way to silence until someone decided on a new phrase to chant. They’d just started with “Two, four, six, eight; being gay is better than straight,” when Harry lowered her sign and leaned over to say something to Louis.

“Look back, Lou. I can’t believe it.”

Louis looked over her shoulder and saw that the protesters were still coming, taking up more space than she’d ever seen before. She tapped Niall’s shoulder and got her to look as well, taking note of the way her expression changed when she realized just how huge this year’s march was.

“Bet you never thought it would be like this, hm? Those nights fighting off the cops. You made a difference.” Niall blushed as Louis said it, her eyes shining like she was fighting back tears.

“We were just done that night. All of us.” Niall shook her head at the memory. “And now it’s a lot more of us. We’d have those pigs running scared if we wanted to.” Her gaze turned a little hard and Louis followed her sightline to find a cop standing on the sidewalk, squinting into the crowd with one hand on his baton. “Fuck the Man!”

Niall yelled it loud enough that the cop started looking around, trying and failing to find the source. She cackled over it and Louis couldn’t help but laugh with her.

They kept on marching up Fifth Avenue, each block feeling like its own little victory as they passed more pedestrians and onlookers, some even giving a thumbs up or shouting their approval. The ones who didn’t approve were there too, of course, but the marchers would simply chant louder to cover anything they said until they simply got discouraged and walked away or the march kept on going right past them as if they didn’t even exist.

At Saint Patrick’s Cathedral the marchers decided almost all at once to start booing, not stopping even when a few tourists gave them confused looks and a priest came out to stare at them as they marched past. “My mother would never forgive me if she knew I was booing a Catholic church,” Harry said, leaning into Louis’ side. “And on a Sunday, no less.”

“Don’t just boo, darling,” Louis said, raising her middle finger in the direction of the Cathedral. “Show them how you really feel.” Harry looked scandalized for about ten seconds before she let go of Louis’ hand and raised her own middle finger up as well, her booing getting a bit louder. Louis stopped her suddenly, caught up in fun they were having, and kissed her right there in front of the church. They both kept their middle fingers up.

The march was meant to end up in Central Park, and as they neared 79th Street the pace slowed to a crawl. Louis was sweaty and thirsty, her energy from the beginning of the march fading each time they had to stop to allow the marchers in front of them to re-situate themselves in order to get into the park. Harry’s energy, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have flagged at all.

“Do you know who’s speaking at all? Will any poets be performing?” Harry was up on her tiptoes again, looking ahead to see how far they were from the entrance to the park. “I just want the whole thing to go forever, not just an hour or two.”

Louis couldn’t help but smile at her, utterly endeared. “Sorry, I don’t. Zayn or Niall would, though.” The rest of their group was a few feet behind them, talking with a couple of women who they’d run into along the way. Louis went to them, Harry alongside her as they moved against the crowd. The woman they were talking to looked familiar even from behind, but it wasn’t until Louis heard her voice that she realized exactly who it was.

“Louis, did you hear Frankie was back in town for the march?” Niall raised her eyebrows, giving Louis a look that was somewhere between sympathy and mischievous glee. Frankie turned around and gave Louis a wide smile before setting her gaze on Harry.

“And this must be Harry! I’ve already heard about you and I’ve only seen these women for ten fuckin’ minutes.” Frankie pulled Louis in for a hug, squeezing so tight that Louis’ back cracked a bit, and then opened her arms to Harry, hugging her as well. “I just knew that I’d run into y’all today. God, it’s so good to be in the city again.”

“Are you staying?” Louis asked, hoping she sounded casual enough when she desperately wanted the answer to be no.

“Oh God no! This land in Alabama, you have to come see it. We’re starting to grow shit down there, greens and tomatoes and beans, all kinds of things. And the women. It’s like the real grassroots shit, you know? Not like up here. I mean I miss it, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really miss it.”

Louis glanced toward Harry, who seemed to sense her gaze and turn to scrunch her nose and smile before putting an arm around Louis’ waist. “How long are you in town, then? Just for the weekend, or staying a little longer?” Harry’s voice was polite and conversational, and Louis couldn’t imagine how she was doing it. If this were a girlfriend of Harry’s-- not that she’d had others, thankfully --Louis would be fighting to hold back the daggers in her voice.  

“I’m crashing with Pam for the rest of the week. Just got in yesterday. Meant to get in sooner but I hitchhiked, you know?”

The group kept talking as they re-joined the march, the crowd now moving a bit faster into Central Park. Louis let everyone else walk in front of her and Harry, glad that Liam was currently asking Frankie for all the details about what they were growing on the land down South and if they might have space for visiting artist women in the winter.

“So that’s the girlfriend you used to run into all the time?” Harry leaned against Louis’ side, keeping her voice low. “She’s...a lot.”

“Yeah, she really is. We’re friends now and she’s great, but--”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain.”

“It’s not weird, is it? Because we can--”

“No, no, it’s really not weird. And it’s just the afternoon, right?”

Louis nodded and Harry smiled back at her before leaning in to give her a kiss.

“Lovebirds!” Frankie shouted, her voice ringing out in the now quieter crowd. Louis could only roll her eyes and hope that things wouldn’t get too out of hand.

Of course they moment they sat down, Frankie set upon Harry. “Okay, so tell me everything about you. I’ve already heard you’re a fresh little baby dyke, of course. But what else. Where are you from?” Harry barely managed to answer that she was from Boston before Frankie was asking her why she’d picked New York instead of staying closer to home. Louis put her hand on Harry’s knee.

“Frankie, it’s her first rally like this. Let her listen instead of talking her head off.” Harry put her hand over Louis’ and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh! That’s new!” Louis wrinkled her brow at Frankie, about to respond when Frankie continued instead. “You always let me vet your girls before, Louis.” She turned to Harry and whispered (or came as close to it as she ever did), “she really likes you, sweetie.”

Harry couldn’t contain her laugh. “I know. It’s absolutely mutual. We’ve discussed it.” She laid her head on Louis shoulder, her curls tickling at Louis’ cheek for a moment before Louis turned to place a kiss on the top of her head.

“Well that’s cute as fuck, isn’t it?”

“Try working next to it every day at a women’s bookstore and you’ll change your tune,” Niall groused. “Never ends.”

“You love us, Nialler,” Louis said. “Don’t lie.”

“Hush up and listen to, ahh, that looks like Willson up there. Listen to Willson.” Louis waved Niall away and pretended to be deeply engaged with the speaker in front of them. When Niall and the rest finally turned back around, Louis laid back in the grass and tugged gently at Harry’s wrist until she laid down as well, her head resting on Louis’ chest. It was really too hot out for any kind of cuddling, the afternoon sun shining bright in a mostly cloudless sky.

“How’s it been? Everything you hoped?”

Harry shifted so that she could look up at Louis to answer. “It’s been amazing. I wish every day was like this.” Louis stroked her arm, breathing in the clean smell of her sweat and closing her eyes against the sun. “It felt good to do it with you, too. I don’t know if I would’ve gone if I weren’t with you. I don’t know if I would’ve thought I could.”

Louis squeezed Harry a little tighter, pulling her closer so she could kiss her forehead. It seemed so strange to her that Harry still doubted herself-- that she still thought she was timid or restrained or not gay enough. “You’re braver than you think. I’ll bet if we hadn’t met that day at the bookstore, if you’d just stood across the street thinking about crossing, we’d still have met here. Or maybe somewhere else.” Louis considered that for a moment and then shook her head. “No, definitely here.” Harry giggled against her chest.

“Tell me about it, then.”

“I would’ve gotten to the march late and not found Niall or anyone else. And you would’ve been hanging back a bit. I would’ve recognized you from that day when I watched you thinking about coming in.”

“Liar.”

“It’s true! Even if I hadn’t I would’ve thought about talking to you.”

“I would’ve died on the spot.” Harry grazed Louis’ chest with her teeth and curled her fingers into Louis’ ribs teasingly. “You’d have to date a ghost.”

“I would date ghost you, though. Would write ghost you poems and--”

“We can all hear you, you know.” Niall said without turning around. “Lying on the grass isn’t like the cone of fuckin’ silence.” Harry exploded into giggles as Louis tried to poke at Niall with her foot.

“We’re here for gay liberation, aren’t we?” Frankie said as she rolled her shirt up to expose her midriff. “Let the dykes kiss for fuck’s sake.”

Louis barely bothered to acknowledge Niall’s huff of frustration. She was too busy kissing Harry in the name of lesbian fucking liberation.

Chapter Text

Ever since the Stonewall anniversary march, things had felt different for Harry. Fresher and freer and more possible than before. She was spending more nights at Louis’ place and had finally convinced her mother to reduce their calls to five times a week instead of daily with the understanding that she’d never skip two days in a row of calls. It wasn’t much, but it made things just a bit easier.

She could feel the change in every aspect of her life, too. She’d been writing more, spending her lunch breaks sitting outside in the sun with a notebook on her lap and a thermos of cold sun tea to drink and then going back in with her face a bit sweaty, not caring when the other women she worked with gave her questioning looks. She’d stopped wearing makeup altogether, not even bothering with it at work, and she’d even worn pants a few times, though she could tell that if she kept pushing it she’d probably get a talking to. She almost didn’t care.

It felt silly to say it was because of Louis. Their relationship was making her bolder and more sure of herself, though. When they’d talk at night, either lying together or cuddled up or just over the phone when they were apart, there was so much that Harry was able to clarify about herself. How she felt and what she wanted, the plans she could make and all the things she could do whenever she wanted. It wasn’t all Louis, no. But she was so much of it.

And it felt like Louis was different too-- more confident in her own writing and less hesitant with her emotions. She’d even talked about trying to take a few weeks to travel in the fall, doing readings or leading workshops with women’s groups in towns along the east coast. She’d already asked Harry to think about coming along, and though getting the time away from work wouldn’t be easy, Harry was really considering it. The thought of traveling with Louis was exciting; she couldn’t stop thinking of how it would feel to explore a city that was totally new for both of them together.

She was daydreaming about it a bit when Niall poked her in the side. “If you don’t let me get to that pan the zucchini’s gonna burn and it’ll all be on you, Harry. Move it.”

Harry stepped aside, bumping into Louis, who was stirring lemonade. The brush of her skin still felt electric, forcing a little giggle out of Harry’s throat before she could stop it. Of course that led to a kiss, which led to another kiss, which started to lead to a deeper kiss when Niall cleared her throat loudly behind them.

“No canoodling in my kitchen. Go! Sit! Send Liam in here instead. Need someone to chop tomatoes.”

Louis started out and Harry followed closely behind her, pretending to shove at her back to get her to move faster. They found Liam sitting on the couch with Zayn, the windows open and the evening sounds of the city drifting in from below. The two of them were deep in conversation about something, Liam listening intently as Zayn spoke.

Harry waited til Zayn seemed like she was finished speaking and cleared her throat lightly. “We got kicked out for canoodling. Niall was hoping you’d go in and chop tomatoes, Li.”

Liam stood up with a small shake of her head. “Don’t worry, I was expecting it. We could hear the whole thing from in here.” She turned back to Zayn and placed one hand against her cheek. “We’ll talk more about traveling later, if that’s alright with you my lover.”

Zayn pressed a kiss to Liam’s palm and nodded her head. When Liam had made it into the kitchen, Zayn scooted over a bit to make room for Louis and Harry on the couch.

“What sort of traveling were you thinking about doing?” Harry couldn’t help but feel curious since she’d just been considering the very same thing in the kitchen. “Do you think you’ll move somewhere, or just visit?”

Sappho meowed up at them, and Zayn patted her lap, waiting til the cat was settled before she spoke. “Not moving, yet. We were talking about trying to go to the National Women’s Music Festival next spring, or possibly another that’s coming in August this year. Of course it could be great, but it’s hard for me to know if I’d be supported there.” Zayn closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Harry’s heart twisted in her chest. “Of course Liam wants a chance to be back on women’s land, so the idea of shorter retreats and festivals feels like a good compromise so that we can stay in the city a while longer.”

“Lou and I were talking about traveling too,” Harry said, laying her hand over Zayn’s. “Maybe trying to set up readings and things. What if we tried to do some on women’s lands and not just in cities? Then we could all go together.”

Zayn smiled back at her. “That sounds lovely. But I think for a tour Louis is right to stay closer to cities. Visiting intentional communities for a day or two can give you the wrong idea of how they work, and it can sometimes leave a sour taste for the women who live there, having someone come in just for a concert or reading.”

“It’s also nearly impossible to get a clear answer about whether or not they actually want you to come. Half of it depends on who decides to answer correspondence or the phone on any given day.”

“Sad but true.” Zayn shrugged and nodded in agreement with Louis. “Not everyone is as good at collective decision making as they’d like to think they are.” The corners of her mouth turned down almost imperceptibly as she paused for a moment before continuing. “We mostly listened to one another and found ways to work together at Olivia. I almost said we were lucky, but we weren’t-- we were intentional.”

“Do you miss it?” Harry asked. Though she and Zayn had gotten close to one another, it had never seemed like the right time to talk about Zayn leaving Olivia. It was still new and she worried that even now she’d overstepped a bit, Zayn grimacing slightly.

“Of course I do. We built something amazing, something for wimmin and by wimmin, and being a part of that was beautiful.” Zayn looked over at Niall’s record collection and sighed quietly. “But the beautiful things we were a part of don’t disappear just because we have to leave them behind. Olivia has a piece of me and I’ll always have a piece of her with me as well. Those wimmin are in every song I write and note I sing.”

Harry laced her fingers with Zayn’s, her heart swelling. “That’s a beautiful way to think of it. Have you talked to any of them lately?”

“Just had a letter from Cris, actually. She’ll be coming up here in October and wanted to have tea together.” Zayn squeezed Harry’s hand. “I’ll have you over for dinner then. Maybe we can all make music together.”

Harry couldn’t help herself-- she let out a squeal of delight. Letting go of Zayn she covered her mouth with both hands for a moment before allowing herself to speak. “I couldn’t possibly make music with Cris Williamson,” she said, hating that she spoke Cris’ name so reverently but not quite ready to act as though the idea of actually knowing her wasn’t a bit daunting. “I could sit there while the two of you made music, maybe.”

Zayn shook her head and laughed. “You and Louis are so ridiculous. You’re both talented writers and your voices are lovely. Get some confidence, wimmin!”

Harry leaned into Louis’ side. “I’ll get confidence if you will.” Louis gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.

“Same here. We’ll both get confidence, and by the time you’re hanging out with Cris you’ll be handing her one of your poems to set to music.” Harry shook her head, but before she could respond the lights flickered and then cut off, leaving the room in darkness.

“Fuckin’ shit city! Another blackout,” Niall yelled from the kitchen. Sappho leapt down from the couch, running off toward Niall’s bedroom, and Harry heard banging and slamming from the kitchen before Liam walked out with two candles that she set down on Niall’s table.

“The food was nearly done anyway, don’t mind her,” Liam said, motioning for them to come to the table. “Just sit down, I’m sure this will clear up by the time dinner is over.”

Niall had moved on from slamming drawers to banging pots and pans, cursing steadily at varying volumes. Louis and Harry moved from the couch to the dinner table, taking the seats next to each other. “Nialler! Shut your trap, it’s going to be fine!” Louis yelled. Niall came in from the kitchen a few moments later, Liam right behind her.

“Louis I swear if you say another word you’re going to be out there in the dark and Harry will stay here. I have a right to be riled up when the power keeps going out like this and you know it.” Niall set a large dish of ratatouille down in the middle of the table while Liam put a bowl of salad down just beside it.

“I was only teasing, anyway,” Louis said, her voice not hiding her amusement. “I know you hate it. But it’s probably going to be fixed any minute now. Let’s eat.”

The food was good and the candles made the whole dinner feel special, as if the five of them had fallen back in time to a much older New York. Louis and Niall kept up their banter for a bit before settling into a more mellow conversational rhythm, and Harry let her free hand drift to Louis’ knee. She felt comfortable, she realized, more at ease and right and more herself, than she’d felt in as long as she could remember.

She wondered for a moment what this situation would look like with her family. Her mother would be anxious, shushing any conversation that dared to start, and her father would have finished eating quicker than any of them so that he could move into the den with a book and a flashlight and ignore all of them. She and Gemma would be tense and quiet. Nothing else. There wouldn’t be any of this ease or pleasure.

Louis brushed her fingers over Harry’s hand. “You alright, baby?” She whispered it just loud enough for Harry to hear, her concern expression exaggerated by the candlelight.

“Yes, just thinking about what a nice dinner this is. That’s all.” Louis leaned over and they shared a kiss which everyone but Niall ignored. She blew a raspberry at them.

They all continued eating, but when the power hadn’t returned when dinner was over, Liam suggested Niall pull out her radio to see if they could get some news. Sappho had finally decided to rejoin the group, and meowed in complaint when Niall took a light to go find the radio and Zayn went to the window, opening the screen so she could stick her head outside and have a look at the street.

“How bad is it?” Louis asked as she stacked their dinner plates together for carrying into the kitchen. “Does it look like it’s just down here?”

Zayn shook her head after pulling herself back inside. “I think it’s the entire city.” Niall appeared with the radio then and they put batteries in and turned it on, tuning the dial until they got something that wasn’t static.

“--reports of looting and violence uptown as Con-Ed officials say they’re unsure when they’ll be able to return power to New York City residents. Right now with the city in darkness and the .44 caliber killer still at large, they’re urging people to stay indoors overnight. We’ve got--”

Liam turned the volume down abruptly. “The gate is locked downstairs, isn’t it?” She looked to Niall, who nodded.

“Iron gate is locked. Window could still get broken, but I’ve managed not to have that happen so far. Looters don’t typically want books.” She sat down and welcomed Sappho into her lap from where the cat had been prowling anxiously, the cat giving Niall a worried headbutt. “You’re all staying put til daylight, of course.” Sappho squeaked in agreement.

It was a serious matter of course, but Harry couldn’t help the little bubble of excitement she felt. “It’s a sleepover,” she said in a stage whisper. “We’re having a sleepover at Niall’s.”

Liam was the first to let out a chuckle, followed by Louis and Zayn together. Niall joined in right after until they were all having a little laugh together. “Yeah, that’s a better way to look at it, I reckon,” Niall said. “I do have a couple of sleeping bags.”

“I never got invited to sleepovers. I was too weird,” Liam said, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I mean I guess I’ve had plenty of grown up sleepovers with women. But not the wholesome sort.” Harry bit back a laugh.

“I went to sleepaway camp,” Zayn said from her place by the window. She was staring up at the thin sliver of moon in the sky. “But my older sisters had sleepovers. I used to let them and their friends dress me up so that I could stay with them. Maybe we can do some of that, hm Niall?”

Niall huffed, taking off her cap and tossing it in Zayn’s direction. Sappho jumped down to follow it. “That’s the closest I’ve got to dress up things for you,” she said. “Might have a tube of lipstick somewhere from a date a couple weeks ago, but it’s too dark to look for it.” Zayn gingerly placed the cap atop her head, the bill askew.

“This’ll work,” she said, reaching her hand out toward Liam and wiggling her fingers to get her to come closer. When she did, Zayn tugged her down and put the cap on her head. “Liam’s first sleepover is already a success!” Liam flipped the cap up and leaned in to give Zayn a kiss, and Louis grabbed the flashlight and swirled the beam around, laughing as they waved their hands at her to get her to stop, Sappho watching all of the action intently.

“This is exactly how a sleepover goes.” Harry hugged Louis from behind and closed her hand over the flashlight’s beam so that her fingers glowed orange in the darkened room. “Only darker.”

They ended up sitting in a circle for a while, Zayn suggesting they tell scary stories and Louis saying that maybe they should tell scary stories with a feminist twist. Most of those ended up with women killing whatever bad thing had tried to scare them only to find out it was the patriarchy all along. None of them took it seriously, and they laughed most of the way through, sometimes interrupting to shout suggestions to one another.

When they’d tired of that they moved on to a few rounds of Never Have I Ever. Niall offered up her whiskey and it didn’t take long before everyone, even Harry, was tipsy and giggling, saying more and more outrageous things and taking drinks from the bottle even when they hadn’t done whatever was being said. Well. At least Harry was until Louis called her out on it.

“Harry Elaine Styles. You lying minx. You have not had sex with another woman in a tree!” Louis grabbed the bottle from Harry’s hand and tipped it back against her own mouth. “Unless you have something very important to tell me.” Harry put her hand around the neck of the bottle and leaned closer to Louis as she tightened her grip, preparing to pull it away.

“This is Harry from the future. I’ve been trying not to tell you, but the jig is up.” Harry tugged at the bottle and stole a messy sip, the whiskey dribbling down her chin as Niall reached over and took the bottle away from her.

“You two are cut off!” Niall wiped the side of the bottle on her pants before tipping it back to take a sip of her own.

“Sorry baby,” Harry said, resting her head on Louis’ shoulder. “I never should’ve revealed I’m from the future. I just had to go out on a limb.” She giggled at her own joke, waiting for everyone else to join her. When nobody did she pinched Louis’ thigh and repeated it again, louder.

“Harry wants us to laugh,” Louis said, throwing her arm around Harry’s waist and tickling up her side, making her giggle more. “She came from the future just to make a pun about trees and tree sex. Probably caused this whole blackout.”

Harry could hear the amusement in Louis’ voice and she turned her head to gnaw at Louis’ shoulder. “You caused the blackout,” she whispered, moving one hand to Louis’ tummy to tickle her. “You, you, you.” Louis’ stomach began to shake with quiet laughter, which only made Harry want to tickle her more. “You, you, youuuu,” Harry said louder.

All the laughter and noise must’ve disturbed Sappho, as she picked that moment to stretch, glaring toward Louis and Harry. She picked lightly at Niall’s trousers before walking off toward the bedroom, swishing her tail as she went, a clear sign that she was done and expected Niall to be too.

“That’s all she wrote, then,” Niall said, standing abruptly. “Have to watch you two do this all day downstairs and I won’t do it in my own home even in the dark. And neither will Sappho, apparently.” Harry opened her eyes and looked up at Niall, her face illuminated by the warm candlelight. Though she sounded annoyed, she had a faint smile as she shook her head and stared down at them.

Louis took Harry’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to dig her fingers into a particularly ticklish spot, making Harry squeal with laughter and take her own hands away from trying to tickle Louis so that she could instead clutch at Louis’ fingers and try to stop her from doing any more damage.

“This is very authentic,” Zayn said from where she was sat leaning back against Liam in between her legs. “Tickle fights, games where you tell secrets without actually telling secrets. You’re really having the full sleepover experience, lover.”

“We just have to braid each other’s hair and that’s everything,” Harry said breathlessly. She’d finally gotten a good hold on both of Louis’ hands and had stopped the onslaught of her tickling for a moment. “Well, and freeze bras, but none of us wears one.”

Zayn nodded, looking back at Liam. “My sisters sometimes made me take the bras downstairs for them so they could pretend to be innocent.” Even in the dim light, Harry could see Liam’s eyes sparkle with delight in hearing about all the things she’d missed in her youth.

“I would’ve loved that job. Did your sisters take their bras off or did you?”

Harry giggled, temporarily loosening her grip on Louis’ hands only to get freshly tickled again as Zayn explained that the girls took their own bras off for sleeping and Zayn was simply tasked with carrying them away. Liam looked truly disappointed.

“That sounds a lot less fun,” she said, shaking her head. “I might’ve asked to take their bras off for them, so maybe it’s better that I was never invited to sleepovers, hm?”

“I don’t think my sisters would’ve appreciated it, but I have a feeling a couple of their friends might’ve.” Zayn turned her head and let Liam nuzzle into her neck, and Harry looked at them fondly, feeling like she was being included in their intimate moment. Watching them, she finally stopped struggling against Louis’ touch and leaned into her instead, wrapping her arms around her waist.  

“Let’s go to sleep, Lou.” Harry wasn’t tired, really, but she liked the idea of climbing into a little nest next to Louis with Zayn and Liam a few feet away, warmth blooming in her chest as she thought about it. “I wanna lie down with you.”

“Mm, okay baby. Let’s, then.” Louis took her time standing and then pulled Harry up with her. Zayn and Liam stayed where they were, still fitted together perfectly, Zayn with her eyes closed now and Liam with her head bending into the crook of Zayn’s neck. “We’ll get a blanket for them, too. They’ll sleep like that, you know?” Louis whispered the last part, careful not to disturb Zayn and Liam even though Harry was sure they hadn’t drifted off just yet.

Niall had brought the sleeping bags out into the hall along with a few blankets and pillows, and while it was too hot to actually get in a sleeping bag, Harry had a vision that involved a nest of blankets topped with the smooth, cool nylon of a sleeping bag underneath her skin and Louis’ arm around her waist. If she closed her eyes she could smell Louis’ sweat mixing with her own, the faint breeze blowing in from the open window offering moments of relief from the warmth.

“Alright, baby, let’s actually lie down to sleep.” The sound of Louis’ voice made Harry open her eyes and realize she’d been resting her head against the door jamb. So maybe she was more tired than she’d thought a moment ago.

Harry laid a couple of blankets down on the floor while Louis carefully draped one over Liam and Zayn where they’d curled up together on the couch. Harry unzipped a sleeping bag and smoothed it out with its warmer side facing the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing she’d ever laid on, but it would work with Louis by her side. She looked up in time to see Louis walking over with a couple of pillows, and she tapped the spot next to her, ready to settle in.

They rolled around for a bit trying to find the most comfortable position to sleep in before Louis turned onto her back and pulled Harry in close to her side, letting her head rest in the crook of Louis’ arm. Harry inhaled the scent she’d been thinking of earlier-- the warm spice of Louis’ skin and sweat mixing with the night air and Harry’s own sweat. The sleeping bag added an underlying mustiness, but it felt right somehow.

“I like this,” Harry said quietly, burrowing deeper into Louis’ armpit. Louis squirmed a little beside her, huffing out a little laugh.

“You like lying on the floor of Niall’s apartment in the middle of a city-wide blackout? Did you get high without telling me?”

“No, I’d share if I did. What do you even think of me?” Harry slid her hand underneath the thin cotton of Louis’ t-shirt. “I like lying next to you with our friends all around. I like how quiet everything is even though we’re in the city. I like that there are no street lights buzzing and I like how you smell and,” Harry scratched her nails down Louis’ side lazily, “I like it when you’re just a little bit too warm like this.”

“You’re headed the right way for stirring up trouble, baby.” Louis brushed a stray curl from Harry’s face and kissed her forehead. “I know they wouldn’t mind, but I’d rather not make love to you with Zayn and Liam a foot away from us and probably not entirely asleep.”

Harry scoffed. “I wasn’t trying to have sex with you, Lou. God.” She laid her palm flat on top of Louis’ tummy and spread her fingers out wide, slowly curling them in and out until she heard Louis take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “I just like touching you. Love it. I love every moment with you, even when they’re like this.”

They laid there in the dark like that for a while, Harry touching Louis so lightly that she knew it must tickle at least a little and Louis doing nothing but breathing in and out, taking it in. Harry fell asleep like that, and even though her back hurt the next morning, she didn’t mind it one bit.

Chapter Text

After breakfast at Niall’s, Louis was ready to head back to her apartment with Harry. Liam and Zayn made her promise that if the blackout continued she and Harry would come over to their place since Liam had enough gear and provisions to provide comfortable sleep and meals for all of them. Louis considered the fact that dykes like Liam really were prepared for everything and would absolutely be the most likely survivors in case of an apocalypse. Then she said a silent word of gratitude to the universe for connecting her with such wonderful people.

The walk between the book store and her place was odd but uneventful. The streets were still pretty quiet. Most of the businesses were closed with the exception of the newsstand run by the same old man every day, and even he looked as though he knew he shouldn’t be there. The traffic was almost nonexistent, the usual shouts and honking horns missing almost entirely. There were sirens in the distance though, the sound traveling from uptown where Louis could see smoke rising in the sky.

“Please stay with me tonight. Even if the blackout ends, ok?” Louis turned to Harry, hating that she couldn’t keep the worry from her voice. Harry nodded, looking back at her with a grave expression.

“I can’t tell where the smoke is coming from, but there must be looting going on again. Of course I’ll stay with you.”

Once they got inside, Louis pulled out her battery operated radio as Harry opened the windows as wide as they’d go, fanning herself with her hands. It was much hotter in her apartment than she’d thought it would be, considering that Niall’s place had been mostly bearable, but then she remembered that Niall’s apartment had the benefit of a cross-breeze. Not to mention the fact that she’d been running several electric fans all day before the blackout while Louis’ place had been without much more than a slight breeze coming through a single partially opened window all night.

When she finally found her spare batteries and got the radio on, Louis celebrated by pulling her shirt off and throwing it across the room. The news that she tuned into wasn’t really that different from the night before, except that now the reporter said that crews were working on fixing the problem and hoped to be done soon.

“How soon is soon?” Harry whined. She’d also taken her shirt off and had run it under some cold water, draping it over her shoulders so that little droplets were trailing down her sides and over her chest.

“Not soon enough. I wonder if we should go to Liam and Zayn’s? It might be better over there.”

“I doubt it. Their place is a converted old factory. Those places weren’t known for their great ventilation and natural cooling abilities.” Harry picked up Louis discarded shirt and nodded toward the sink, dousing it with water when Louis gave her a small nod.

“Alright, so we’re casting our lot here then. I have food we can eat and a bed we can sleep in and a tub that we can fill up with cold water and lie in together.”

“That!” Harry pointed at Louis and smiled. “That’s what I want.”

Louis filled the tub and then let Harry climb in first since she was taller, her long limbs needing a bit more room than Louis’ compact frame would. She ended up fitting nicely between Harry’s spread thighs, her back to Harry’s chest. The water was cool and refreshing, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief and pleasure.

“It should be a crime for a whole city to be without power in the middle of the summer,” Harry said, trailing her hand over the surface of the water. Louis watched the ripples it made and leaned back against Harry’s chest to look up at her.

“What good would it do? There are men in the government and men in law enforcement and more men spinning a bunch of stories about it all.” Louis splashed a bit of water up on her chest, disturbing the patterns Harry was making in the water. “The patriarchy will never do anything to harm its positions and power.”

Harry snaked her arms under Louis’, fluttering her fingers under the water. “Yes, of course. That’s all true. But wouldn’t it be nice if they all had to go somewhere else and women got to take over?” She settled her hands on Louis’ belly, just below her breasts. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sorry, baby. I’m still too hot, I think. Wasn’t trying to be contrary.”

“I know.” Harry kissed the top of Louis’ head and Louis felt herself relax a bit more, shoulders sinking down into the water. “Here,” she pulled her arm out from under Louis’ and flailed a bit, spraying drops of water as she reached for something outside the tub. She came back with an empty wine glass, clearly leftover from one of her recent baths. Before Louis could ask what she was doing, Harry dipped the glass into the tub and tipped it out onto Louis’ head. “That should help.”

Louis sputtered, blowing water off her face as Harry tried to hold back a giggle while pouring another glassful of water over Louis’ head. “If that didn’t feel unbelievably good I swear I’d be so annoyed with you right now.” Louis leaned forward and shook her head like a dog after a bath, laughing when she heard Harry react to getting wet with a squeal of “heyyy!”

Sitting up a bit, Louis struggled to grab the glass from Harry without being able to see it or to turn around properly. She gave up after Harry had dumped two more glasses of water over her head, sinking down to submerge herself and kicking her legs into the air. When she came up for air, Harry was cackling with laughter, holding the wine glass high above her head.

When Louis finally got herself to the other end of the tub and was able to maneuver around to face Harry, she realized that Harry had actually set the glass down and was holding her hair back in a ponytail. Her cheeks were pink from laughter and she raised her eyebrows at Louis before glancing down at the water. “Should I?” She grinned, her dimples coming out as Louis shook her head and faked toward the glass. Harry went under in a flash and rose back up, still holding her curls in one hand as she blinked her eyes open, water streaming down her face.

“It feels good, Lou!” She let go of her hair and splashed herself a bit more. “Why were you making such a fuss about it?”

“Hm, maybe because someone secretly stashed a glass in my bathroom and ambushed me with it?” Louis inched closer to Harry, carefully navigating the small space of the bathtub. “Besides, you were being helpful, right?”

Harry nodded, grinning again. Louis sat down and pushed her legs out so that they were on either side of Harry’s body while Harry’s surrounded her. She could hear Harry’s breath catch as she moved closer, the little sound sending a thrill down her spine. When they were chest to chest, Louis splashed a bit of water up Harry’s back, snickering at her surprised gasp before leaning in to lick a bead of water from her neck.

“You’re the one not helping,” Harry said, her voice a little tight as she leaned her head over to expose more of her neck. “I think you’re making the water warmer too. Being next to me like this.” Louis scraped her teeth over Harry’s neck and sucked a tiny love bite just below her ear. She tasted salty, her sweat mixed with the water from the bath, and Louis sucked at the same spot again a bit harder, relishing the pleased hum that vibrated from Harry’s throat.

“I had the best intentions getting into the tub with you, but you got me riled up,” Louis said against Harry’s neck. She gave her ear a tiny nip and then leaned back to look Harry in the eyes. “Do you mind if our bath isn’t as cool and relaxing?” Harry shook her head, looking down at Louis with her green eyes twinkling.

“I had the worst intentions getting into the tub with you,” she said shyly. “So I can’t say I mind at all.” Louis was about to respond when Harry closed the space between them and kissed her, Harry’s lips soft and warm and wet and heavenly. As it often did, the sensation shut Louis’ brain down for a moment, every cell in her body focusing intently on the simple press of Harry’s lips against hers until she started to regain enough mental powers to pay attention to all the other points of contact they were sharing-- Harry’s hands on her back and her own at the back of Harry’s neck, one in her hair and the other brushing the top of her spine; her nipples hardening as they brushed against Harry’s chest or the water lapped against them and the softness of Harry’s breasts pushing into her; the feel of Harry’s pubic hair next to her own cunt, so close that even the knowledge of it was electric, making Louis throb.

As their kiss deepened and they moved closer together, Louis tugged lightly at Harry’s curls, satisfied to hear that sharp little intake of breath she always made at the sensation. She squeezed her thighs a little tighter, grateful for the cool slide of the water between them. If they were on the bed doing this, they’d be covered in sweat by now, Louis thought.

She pulled back and licked along Harry’s jawline again, back to the spot where she’d tasted salt before, and growled when she tasted it once more. “You taste so good. Wanna wake up to that taste every morning and go to bed with it every night on my tongue.” Harry answered with a low moan that vibrated against Louis’ tongue.

“I wanna stay in the bath but you’re making it hard as hell.” Harry dragged her short nails down Louis’ back, pausing to rub down her lower back and over her ass, sending water lapping up against them.

“Thought you had plans and bad intentions,” Louis whispered, tugging at Harry’s earlobe with her teeth. “You didn’t want me to--”

“Nnnngh, fuck Lou. I was thinking about fucking you in the water, like reaching around and touching you while you laid against me, just getting you off slow at first and then really pulling you against me and-- oh --”

Louis sucked another love bite on Harry’s neck, effectively stopping Harry from continuing until she pulled away. Before Harry could get back to what she’d been saying, Louis pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Bed? We can get in the bath afterwards.”

Harry nodded. “Wanna put my mouth on you so bad, Lou.” Hearing her say it made Louis dizzy with want. She moved back, sliding off of Harry’s lap and trying to find an easy way to get her legs underneath herself and stand. Harry ended up being able to get up and out first, and she offered Louis a hand as she got out, both of them dripping cool water onto the bath mat.

They didn’t even bother to do more than a cursory toweling off before going to the bed. The open windows had helped a bit, and in spite of there being very little breeze, the room was currently mostly shaded, the lack of sunlight streaming in offering a bit of relief from the heat as Harry gave Louis a little shove onto the bed, giggling when Louis let herself fall back with an exaggerated bounce.

In the time they’d been together, Louis had watched Harry change every time they had sex. Starting out, Harry had been inexperienced but eager, not always sure of how to get at what she wanted but willing to learn and try and talk things through. She picked things up quickly, though, and by now she was clear and open, still just as eager but with a clearer vision of what she liked and didn’t and a growing list of things she wanted to try, many of which Louis didn’t have experience with either.

Both of them could take control of things and both of them could go with the flow, and they rarely had to discuss who was feeling what way, usually able to read one another as far as that went.

Harry leaned over and gave Louis a lingering kiss on the lips. “The way you were talking about it all I can think about is getting my face between your legs and having you between mine. Could we?”

Louis nodded, clutching at Harry’s hips greedily and pulling her closer to kiss her again. “Whatever you want, baby. You know I like that.” They didn’t do it often, but the feeling of having Harry on top of her, cunt pressing hard into Louis’ mouth as she sucked Louis’ clit and licked into her was easily one of Louis’ favorites. She wet her lips, starting to salivate already just at the thought.

She came back into the moment when she felt Harry mouthing over her breast, alternating between kissing and sucking and simply letting her lips drift slowly over the sensitive skin. Louis grunted, bucking her hips up. She was grateful for the push of Harry’s hand down her side, gentling her till she relaxed into the bed and opened her legs. Harry teased her then, taking her time moving down with her mouth and keeping Louis’ hand locked against the mattress with her own so that Louis couldn’t touch her in return quite yet.

“Mm, fuck baby, please,” Louis begged, lifting her head to watch Harry nose delicately at her thighs. Harry placed a soft kiss on either side of the vee of Louis’ legs before turning to give Louis a coquettish smile.

“Please what?” She bit at her lip, waiting for Louis to respond, and Louis simply shook her head, dazed and awed at the woman beside her. “Are you wet for me? Do you want me on top of you, Lou? Want my tongue on you?”

Louis swallowed, throat dry, and nodded. “That’s all I want,” a strangled curse escaped her lips as she felt Harry’s breath against her cunt, a hungry pant as though Harry was barely containing herself from settling in to taste, “all I need, please. H--”

Harry dove in, shuffling closer and angling herself to get unfettered access to Louis’ clit. Gone was any of her concern about not knowing what to do. She explored Louis freely, tasting and trying with the knowledge that Louis would tell her or show her when something didn’t feel right. Not that that actually happened very often. The sex they had was better than anything that Louis had done before with more experienced women.

Moaning, Louis reached out to touch Harry’s leg, encouraging her to straddle her face. Harry pulled off of Louis’ clit with a slick sound and a slight hum, giving Louis’ thigh a playful slap. “Uh-uh,” she said, finger sliding between Louis’ labia. “Wanna hear you first. Please.” Louis twisted her hands in the sheets and muttered a quiet “fuck” before Harry lowered her head and got back to what she’d been doing.

Louis let loose then, one hand teasing her own nipple and the other in Harry’s hair, petting at the wet curls along the bottom of her neck til her hand was damp with Harry’s sweat. She sucked her fingers into her mouth and hummed at the taste, aching for more but grateful for the attention that Harry was giving her. As she pulled her hand from her mouth she realized Harry had gotten close enough to touch, and she couldn’t resist it, reaching out and dipping two fingers into the wet warmth of Harry’s cunt.

Harry’s reaction was breathtakingly perfect; she pressed in hard, tonguing over Louis’ hole and sucking her clit as she leaned into Louis’ touch, pulling her deeper inside. The combination of sensations made Louis feel like she was on fire, burning up from the inside out. Sliding her fingers back to her mouth, she sucked the taste of Harry onto her tongue, the salt and spice of her simultaneously stoking the fire and offering her some sense of relief.

“Need you, baby,” she said when she’d finally sucked the last drops of Harry’s wetness from her fingers. “Please, I need you now, please Haz.” Louis knew she wasn’t making much sense, knew that she was begging, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. When she reached out and touched Harry’s leg again, Harry looked back at her, punch-drunk, and nodded as she swung her leg over Louis’ head and settled her cunt against Louis’ waiting, open mouth.

Having Harry pressed against her, Louis slipped into a sex haze where everything around her was Harry. She was warm and slippery soft, drenched with wetness that tasted like her sweat and her smell only better, brighter, deeper, and Louis lapped at her hungrily, messy and wild. It didn’t matter that she’d had her mouth on Harry like this only a couple of nights before. Every time was perfect. Not different or better, necessarily, but still the one thing she could see herself wanting to do forever.

With Harry on top of her, Louis could feel her orgasm building. She pushed two fingers into Harry’s cunt, feeling her tighten around them as she fucked into Louis too, the two of them in a feedback loop of sexual energy. If she were able to think properly, Louis was sure she could find a more poetic way to say it, but as it was she was barely holding onto the world around her by a thread.

She whined as Harry twisted her fingers just so, a move she’d discovered a few weeks after they’d started dating and had perfected over time. It sent Louis over the edge, muscles clenching and hips bucking up. She fucked Harry through it, not easing off until she felt the hot pulse of her cunt around her fingers and her chin was coated with Harry’s slick.

They stayed in that position until they’d both come down properly, panting against each other’s thighs and stroking one another for a few moments until Harry moved off, carefully swinging her leg over Louis’ head and then flopping onto her back dramatically, wriggling down until she was lying in Louis’ arms. Louis didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss her, the taste of the two of them mixing with the touch of their tongues. When they separated they both sighed, which made the two of them giggle until Harry settled in once more.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” Louis said when they’d had a few moments to lay together. A slight breeze blew in through the window, making Louis aware of how sweaty she’d gotten. She was certain Harry was in a similar state. Not that it mattered, really. Harry smiled at her, sleepy eyed and sated, and Louis leaned in and kissed her nose. “You perfect, strong, amazing woman.”

Harry nodded. “Mm hmm, me too,” she said, trailing her finger down the center of Louis’ chest and back up again. “In love. With a brilliant, stunning, inspiring woman.”

They dozed like that for a while-- Louis couldn’t be sure just how long --until the heat started to bother the both of them again, beads of sweat forming on Louis’ neck as she watched the same trickle down from Harry’s chest to drop onto the messy sheets.

“Cold bath again?” Louis asked, chasing one of the drops of sweat that was falling from Harry’s side to its source. “I’ll try to be good if you will.”

Harry nodded, eyes still closed and a slight smile on her lips. “Won’t make promises. But we should definitely get in.”

They had two more cold baths together that day, only one of which ended with them getting up to anything other than lying together quietly in the tub. In between, they ate the perishable things that they could from the fridge and fed each other fruit and listened to the radio for updates on when the power might be restored and what neighborhoods were experiencing the worst of the looting and fires.

Power came back after dark, around 10 o’clock or so. Louis rushed to turn her fan on, letting Harry stand in front of it and take the first breeze it offered before setting it up so they could both go to sleep in its path.

They agreed that Harry would go home the next afternoon instead of going into work, uncertain about the sort of “normal” things would return to after so much chaos had reigned during the blackout. Harry didn’t seem quite so worried about it, but Louis had a pit in her stomach-- a seed of worry about something that she couldn’t quite figure out. She dismissed it as anxiety about the looting, making Harry promise to call her when she made it inside her apartment the next day.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up early to try calling into work only to find that no one answered her call. She took it as a sign that nobody else was coming in either, and gratefully climbed back into bed with Louis for a few more hours of sleep. They spent a lazy morning in bed, Louis climbing out just long enough to put on a record and make toast and coffee before settling in and letting Harry relax against her chest.

It felt like hardly any time had passed at all when she realized it was getting close to 6 o’clock. The sun was still out, and she and Louis were sprawled on the bed reading with a Max Feldman record playing in the background. They’d finally listened to all of Louis’ records and Harry was able to pull out her favorites now, not limited to the few women she’d known only a few months before. She caught herself singing along quietly with Maxine’s deep voice. “I hate not being able to hold my lover’s hand except under some dimly lit table--”

Louis’ hand slid into her own gently, fitting as perfectly as it always did. She looked up and caught Louis smiling back at her. “No need to be afraid of being called a lesbian, baby. You can always own it with me.” Harry brought Louis’ hand to her lips and kissed her open palm.

“I’m not afraid, Lou. I like this song, though. Makes me want to go shout to the world about who we are. Who I am.” Louis’ smile was tender and fond, and it made Harry duck her head, feeling suddenly shy and overwhelmed. The bed shifted and she felt Louis’ weight on top of her and kisses raining down on her bare back.

“I’d shout about you any day,” Louis said between kisses. Harry giggled, lifting her hips to push Louis off of her so she could roll onto her back.

“Of course you would.” She touched Louis’ cheek, brushing away a stray hair before leaning up to kiss her. “I really have been thinking about it, you know.”

“About what? Going to the roof and shouting that you love me? Because we’d be better off trying that at Niall’s, honestly.” Louis’ eyes twinkled with mirth and Harry shook her head, chuckling lightly.

“No, we could do that any time, couldn’t we?” She sat up a bit and looked Louis in the eyes. “I mean telling my family. Or at least trying to talk about it with my sister again, no matter what she said last time.”

Louis’ eyes widened as she leaned a little closer to Harry. “Coming out is-- it’s a lot. You don’t have to rush because of me, either. You know that, right?” Harry nodded as she felt a fresh surge of love and admiration for Louis rush through her.

“It won’t be fast, but I think I’m really getting ready. Nothing has ever felt like it does with you. And I don’t know if anything ever will.”

To say that Louis pounced on her wouldn’t be much of an overstatement. Their kisses went from feverish to deep and tender, finally turning to soft pecks and nuzzles as they settled back into the bed, Harry curled into Louis’ chest again. It was only when Harry realized it was nearly 7:30 that she made a move to get up, struggling when Louis whined plaintively.

“I have to spend tonight at home,” Harry said, giving Louis one last kiss before getting out of bed properly and tugging a dress that she’d left behind a few weeks before over her head. “My plant has to be missing me, and you’re working first thing in the morning tomorrow anyway.”

“I know you’re right but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Louis said, rolling over to watch Harry finish getting dressed. “Besides. I’ll miss you more than your plant has. You know it.”

Harry rolled her eyes but nodded. “I know you will. And I’ll miss you just as much.”

It took a while to leave, and in the end Louis walked her out of the apartment and made sure she was tucked safely into a cab going uptown, waving at her from the sidewalk as if they weren’t going to be seeing each other the following night. Harry leaned her head back and smiled, the wind whipping at her hair as the cabbie sped through a series of green lights.

They made better time than usual, and after paying the cab Harry went inside quickly, not wanting to linger as it was getting darker out. On her way up, she realized that she hadn’t called her mother at all during the blackout. She immediately groaned aloud, annoyed with herself for forgetting and already dreading the dressing down she’d get for it. Not that there was anything she could do to stop it.

The moment she got in, she knew something wasn’t right. The lights were on in the kitchen and her bedroom, and the windows were open instead of shut as she’d left them. Her eyes darted around the room as she considered what to do next. She didn’t know who was there, but it certainly wasn’t anyone she’d invited. Her heart racing, she took two careful steps deeper inside and looked around, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Harriet Elaine.”

Her mother’s voice hit Harry like a bucket of ice water. She tensed, holding her breath as she looked toward her room where it seemed the sound had come from. She couldn’t form a response just yet, but she took a tentative step in that direction as her mother appeared in the doorway.

“I see you’ve made it home. And in one piece, praise God.” Her voice was as clipped and proper as ever as she eyed Harry from the other room, no hint of praise or happiness there at all.

“Mother,” Harry said, bowing her head slightly. “I’m terribly sorry I worried you. I didn’t feel safe coming home during the blackout, and I stayed with my g-- a girl friend.” She swallowed the bitter tasting half truth, not able to meet her mother’s gaze.

“I see.” At that, Harry’s mother turned around and went back into Harry’s room where Harry assumed she was meant to follow. When she stepped through the door, it was as though every ounce of breath left Harry’s lungs all at once, the room blurring at the edges as she took in what she was seeing.

Her mother had found everything. Every record, every book, every flyer and magazine and chapbook. She’d pulled out letters that Harry had exchanged with Bobbi where Bobbi had talked about her various girlfriends and what sorts of things they’d gotten up to together, what it was like to travel as a lesbian, anything and everything. And piled in the middle of the bed were Harry’s journals, the ones she’d filled with poetry and songs and her thoughts and fears. Every personal thing that she’d kept hidden.

It was all there, and Harry’s stomach twisted as a wave of nausea hit her. She bit her lip and looked into her mother’s eyes, waiting for her to speak.

“I suppose this girlfriend is the kind that’s in these books you read and the music you listen to? Some sickening pervert you’ve met down here, I’m sure.”

Harry swallowed, still unable to speak. She wanted to scream. To shout that Louis wasn’t sickening and neither was she. Instead she stayed standing, stuck in place and staring back at her mother with wide eyes. Her mother sighed heavily.

“I told your father that we couldn’t trust you here the way we trusted Gemma. Your sister has always been more mature than you, Harriet.” She pressed her thumb against her temple and rubbed as she shook her head. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was all bubbling up inside of Harry-- her rage at having her privacy violated and having her mother say these things to her; her frustration with the way that the world worked and the millions of things women faced each day that wore them down to nothing; and finally her love and pride, everything she’d felt in the moments she’d spent with Louis, from their first meeting to their marching hand in hand together and the love they’d made the night before. She let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes tight for a moment, picturing Louis there with her before she opened them to meet her mother’s gaze.

“I’m a lesbian, Mother. And I’m in love with an amazing woman who’s made me feel more alive and confident and strong than I ever thought I could. It’s not me being immature and it’s not a phase. It’s who I am.”

Her mother crossed the space between them in two long strides, standing in front of Harry and staring at her hard before slapping her once across the face, the sharp sting sending Harry reeling back a step. There were tears welling up in her eyes, and she did her best to will them away, looking back at her mother defiantly.

“You have a simple choice to make, Harriet. Either you gather your clothes and come home with me this instant, or you stay in this city without our support. No apartment, no checks to cover your expenses, nothing. You’ll not speak to your sister, your father, nor I.” Her mother’s lip trembled slightly as she paused, the only sign that she was feeling anything about the words she was saying to Harry. “I am going to give you a moment to sit in here and decide while I call your father. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded once, her throat tight as she said, “Yes, Mother.” With that, her mother stepped around her and shut the door, leaving Harry alone in her room. A moment later she heard the sound of her mother dialling the telephone to call her father. She wondered how her mother had gotten down-- had she driven herself? Was Harry’s father there in town? --but quickly decided it didn’t matter. She doubted her father would go against anything her mother had said. Gemma might come around eventually, if Harry was careful in contacting her.

Only then did it occur to Harry that she’d already made up her mind. There was nothing to consider, no choice to make. It shocked her that she was so ready to give up everything she’d ever known for Louis, but she was. A laugh bubbled out of her and she quickly shook it off, realizing she didn’t have the time to do anything but pack. She pulled two suitcases from her closet and threw clothes into one and her letters, journals, favorite records, and other things she’d collected into the other. She left a few things that she knew she could easily replace, mostly books and a couple of the more popular records that she had.

The truth was she had very little that she cared about here. Her life was built on the experiences she’d had and the friends she’d made. It was nights in with Louis or out with Zayn, impromptu concerts of women’s music and political rallies for gay liberation. She shoved the last of her underwear into her suitcase and slammed it shut, the clasps clicking into place just as her mother opened the door to check in on her.

“So you’ll come with us. That’s, oh that’s good, Harriet,” her mother said, reaching out toward Harry with her arms open. “You’ve finally made a good decision.”

Harry hugged her mother, grateful to have one last moment where she felt as though she had her love and support, even if it wasn’t real. Maybe it could be, one day. Maybe her mother would miss her and decide to accept her in spite of her being gay. Maybe she’d end up like one of the parents Harry had seen at Stonewall 8, marching right there alongside them with a sign held up that said, “I love my Lesbian daughter!”

She heard her mother let out a tiny sob before they parted, and she wondered for a moment if her mother knew that Harry hadn’t hugged her because they’d be leaving together. “Goodbye, Mother,” Harry said, taking a step back and picking up her bags. “I love you.”

“You’re making a terrible mistake,” her mother said as she moved past her and out the door.

Harry didn’t respond. Instead she took a quick look around the apartment and ended up grabbing her plant and a favorite piece of art she’d hung on one of the walls a few weeks before. She waited for a beat, wondering if her mother would try to stop her from leaving and stuck between hoping she would and she wouldn’t. All she could hear was her heart thudding in her chest, though. When everything else remained quiet, she took her key off the ring and set it on the kitchen counter before gathering her things and leaving.

As she rode the elevator down, a wave of emotion rolled over her, the gravity of what had just happened hitting her all at once. She wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor and cry, but she shook her head, forcing herself to hold back her tears.

The doorman gave her a concerned look, but didn’t ask any questions when she told him she needed a cab. He simply left her standing there, bags and plant and framed painting in her hands and what had to be a dazed look on her face. The elevator dinged once while she was waiting, and she turned, expecting to see her mother. Instead it was a man she’d never seen before who gave her a suggestive smile, nodding at her as she twisted away with disgust.

Once she was in the cab and headed downtown, bags stowed in the trunk and her plant at her side, she let herself lean against the cool glass of the slightly rolled down window and cry quietly. None of it felt real yet. She needed Louis, wished that she had been able to call her from the apartment before leaving. It hadn’t even been that long since she’d left Louis, she realized suddenly. The thought made her laugh to herself. Somehow her life had shifted completely over the course of a couple of hours.

***************

Louis was lying in bed with her journal open to a blank page and a pen clutched weakly in her hand, missing Harry, when she heard a knock at her door. Her first thought was that it must be a food delivery for someone else, but then it seemed a little late for that. She pulled a shirt on and went to the door, moving to open it only after looking through the peephole.

“Hi baby, you came back,” she said softly as the door swung open. It took her a moment to realize that something was wrong. Harry had bags. And her plant. And red eyes. Her lower lip wobbled slightly as she fell forward into Louis’ open arms where she started to sob immediately. Louis held her, rocking her gently until her crying slowed enough that they could go inside and talk properly. Harry started the kettle as Louis brought the bags in, and as they waited for its whistle Louis wrapped her arms around Harry from behind.

“You don’t have to talk about it tonight, whatever it is.” Louis felt Harry tense a bit, so she kissed her shoulder and continued. “But we can. You can tell me anything you want. I love you so much, and I’m here. I’m right here.” Harry put her hands over Louis’ arms and gave her a light squeeze.

“Yeah, I need-- I need to tell you,” Harry started to say, swallowing back tears.

“Tea first,” Louis said. “My aunt always told me that tea could help any conversation.” Harry leaned her weight back into Louis’ embrace and huffed a laugh, nodding.

“Zayn says that too. Smart women.”

As the kettle whistled, Louis let go of Harry and pulled out one of Zayn’s calming tea blends, fixing a pot of tea for the two of them to share and taking it to the bed on a plate that she hoped would keep it from spilling while they got comfortable. Once they were settled in, mugs in hand, Louis gave Harry a nod of encouragement, reaching out to take her hand. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Harry bit her lip, looking for a moment as if she was about to say no before letting everything tumble out of her like a waterfall. All Louis could do was listen, her heart breaking for Harry with every piece of the story that she revealed. When it was all out, Harry was sniffling, empty mug in one hand as Louis gripped the other tightly.

“Can I stay with you, Lou? I’m working, I should be able to afford my own place around here soon enough, even without--” she trailed off, and Louis picked up her hand and kissed it softly.

“There was never a question. Of course you’ll stay with me. As long as you need.” Louis laid back and pulled Harry down alongside her, wrapping her in a tender embrace. “It’s not exactly the same, but I’ve been through something like this too, remember? I wouldn’t think about just making you find some shitty apartment when I could have you here instead.” When Harry didn’t respond, Louis kissed the top of her head. “I love you too much for that, baby.”

That was all it took for Harry to start crying again, softer but still shaking with it, low whines coming from the back of her throat as she tried to gain control of herself. All Louis could do was hold her, telling her it was ok to get it out even as she fought back tears of her own.

It hadn’t been exactly the same, but it was close enough when Louis had left home. She’d struggled through a couple of nearly unbearable years where her mother and father knew what she was and refused to acknowledge it, their silence leaving her feeling trapped every time she walked in the door. They’d turned all their focus onto her much younger brothers and had barely bothered to wish her good luck when she told them she was moving in with Aunt Ruth.

But she’d had Ruth. And that had made a difference. She couldn’t be that for Harry, but she wanted to be something like it. A safe person, a home, someone who understood: she could be those things for Harry. Wanted to be those things.

“We’ll go to sleep tonight and make decisions tomorrow, yeah? But you’re here now and you’re safe. I’ve got you, baby.”

She heard Harry whisper a quiet “thank you,” against her chest, nuzzling in closer after she spoke as her tears started to wane. They stayed like that for long enough that Louis lost track of time and Harry fell asleep. Louis would’ve liked falling asleep too, but she was too busy thinking about everything that having Harry with her would entail. They’d spent plenty of nights and days together, so she wasn’t too worried about having a routine.

It was certain logistical things that concerned her. Where would Harry keep her clothes? Would Louis’ small fridge work for both of them? Would Harry want to rearrange things if she was moving in permanently? Would she expect a nicer bed or newer chairs or a proper divider between the bed and the rest of the studio? Louis closed her eyes and tried not to be too annoyed with herself for these kinds of thoughts. She wanted to be good for Harry, to support her and give her the love she needed.

The thing was that Louis hadn’t ever really done that before. She’d never asked any of her girlfriends to move in with her, always finding some reason that it wouldn’t make sense. Usually they were valid reasons, of course, like when she was living with her aunt or when the girlfriend who needed a place had a cat and Louis’ building didn’t allow pets.

Harry felt different, though. As Louis laid there listening to her breathing slow and steady with sleep, she realized that she wanted it to work. That if Harry had a cat, she’d find a way to hide it, and that if she still lived with her aunt she’d figure out some way to make room. It was a weird feeling, wanting to let Harry in and keep her close. But it was real in a way that Louis couldn’t deny. She finally fell asleep thinking about how to consolidate her clothes into a smaller space to fit Harry’s for the time being and imagining a time when they’d have enough room to spread out if they felt like it.

Going to work the next morning felt fucking impossible. Louis struggled to wake up with her alarm and almost called Niall saying she couldn’t come in when Harry held onto her tighter as she tried to get out of bed. She finally made it, though, giving Harry a kiss goodbye before she left and telling her to make herself at home.

Of course when she saw Niall later that morning and told her everything, Niall pulled the cap off her head and smacked Louis on the arm with it before tugging it back down on her head.

“I can’t believe you’d leave Harry like that! She needs you. What time is it, anyway?” Niall checked her watch and shook her head. “After 11. Poor thing probably woke up alone and started cryin’ again. You’ve got to take better care of her if you expect--” the sound of someone coming in the door silenced her, and when she looked up and saw it was Harry who’d come in she practically shoved Louis out of the way to get to her.

“Louis gave me the short version of events. How’re you holding up? Need some tea? Or a coffee, maybe? I have plenty of food if you’re--”

Harry shook her head. “I’m alright, really. I made breakfast at Lou’s.” Harry looked freshly showered, her hair in a single braid that she played with absentmindedly and a little damp spot on the shoulder of her t-shirt where it had been resting. Louis smiled at her, catching her eye over Niall’s shoulder.

“I’m here for you,” Niall said, her usual jovial demeanor replaced with a serious tone. “You’re part of our family now, you know.” Niall opened her arms and Harry gave her a hug, whispering something to her that Louis couldn’t quite make out. When they parted, Niall turned to Louis and told her to take a break, and Louis happily accepted, following Harry outside into the hot summer day.

They found a spot of shade just across the street and sat down in it, their hands resting alongside one another. Louis asked Harry how she was doing, and Harry took a moment to answer, screwing up her face a bit as if what she was thinking of saying was distasteful to her.

“I think I should try talking with Mother again,” she said finally. Louis felt as though the air had been knocked out of her.

“What? Why?!”

“I just don’t know if she understood everything, and I don’t think she would’ve been so harsh if she realized that this is who I am and who you are. That it’s not some miserable life with nothing and no-one in it.”

Harry looked wound tight, a spring that when released would go uncontrollably fast and far in some unlikely direction, and Louis took a breath, trying not to let herself get similarly tense.

“I’m not going to try to stop you if you think that’s what you should do. But what did she say or do that makes you think she’s willing to listen, baby? That she wants to know your life? Because everything you’ve said before has made it sound like she wants your life to be exactly the one that she’s imagined, regardless of anything you care about.”

“But she--” Harry chewed on her lower lip, her brow furrowed with tension. “She made a mistake, didn’t she? I can take the bus up to Boston, I can go see her and maybe she’ll listen.” Louis held back her response as tears welled up in Harry’s eyes, not wanting to stop her from expressing anything she needed to. “Maybe I didn’t say enough or give her a chance. What if she tried to come after me and I was already gone? I just. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t--” Harry shook her head as her tears started to fall again, and Louis moved closer to pull her into a tight embrace.

“Nobody knows, baby. We don’t get a guide on how to do things alone just like our parents don’t get one on how to love us. We just have to do it.” Louis stroked up and down Harry’s back, wishing she could impart strength and calm just through her touch. “But I’ve got you, you know? I’ll be with you the whole time, and you can tell me when it’s too much and we’ll figure it out together if you’d like.”

Louis’ words made Harry cry harder, so she pulled Harry even closer, letting her rest her head against Louis’ chest. They sat there for a while, Louis just holding Harry as she cried. It gave her a chance to consider what she would do if Harry insisted on trying to reconnect with her mother so soon. She worried that it could only end badly; that Harry would offer too much to get her mother back and not keep enough of her life for herself. Selfishly she kept returning to the idea of Harry saying she couldn’t stay and that she had to take time apart from their relationship to keep her family close. It hurt more than Louis could bear, and so she kept pushing it from her mind every time it drifted to the forefront.

When Harry sniffled, wiping the last of her tears away, she leaned back and gave Louis a sad look before turning her eyes down to look at the grass in front of her. “Do you hate me for being such a baby about all of this?” she asked after a beat of silence. She spoke quietly enough that Louis could’ve missed it with the street noise around them if she hadn’t been paying attention.

“What? No!” Louis reached out and tipped Harry’s face up to look at her. “Of course I don’t hate you. I love you, Harry. I love you so much and it makes me so impossibly angry that anyone would hurt you like this. That anyone could even think of leaving you. Fuck. You’re-- you’re so strong, so amazing and brilliant. Having you in my life makes me stronger than I ever thought I could be. And anyone who doesn’t see that? Who doesn’t see the way you light up every room you’re in and make everyone and everything better? That’s who I hate.” Harry’s lower lip wobbled as if she was about to stop crying again, and Louis placed her thumb against it, tapping gently until Harry let out a watery giggle.

“I know I can’t just go to her, Lou. I know it, but I can’t help thinking about it. She’s always been so hard on me but I need her to love me. I didn’t even realize how much.” Harry’s voice cracked, and Louis brushed her fingertips over Harry’s cheek, holding contact with her until Harry looked up at her again.

“She does love you, baby. She just hasn’t figured out that this you is still you. Can you give it time, maybe?”

Harry nodded slowly. “You really don’t mind me staying with you?”

“I don’t think that there’s anything I could want more, actually. I was thinking about it while you slept last night. I’ve never had something like this, you know?” Louis hesitated for a moment, smiling to herself at the thought that came to mind. “You know that Fleetwood Mac album of mine?” Harry quirked her brow and gave a small nod, so Louis continued. “There’s that song ‘You Make Loving Fun;’ I think that’s how I feel about you. It’s fun with you, Harry. Everything is.”

“Can’t believe I just cried big snotty tears all over you and you still think I’m fun.” Harry rolled her eyes and laughed, wiping at her cheeks.

“Beautiful, too. Brilliant. Fantastic. A right on woman if I ever saw one.”

Harry leaned forward and kissed Louis on the mouth, her lips soft and salty, and Louis pressed back into her, her hands going to Harry’s waist. The sound of a car honking and a man’s voice yelling “fucking dykes” broke them apart before things could go any further, though. Louis’ hand went up immediately, middle finger raised, and Harry pulled away and shouted back “damn right” before joining Louis in shooting the bird. They returned to Womon's Direction giggling about it.

Of course when they got inside, Niall insisted that Louis should leave early anyway. They argued about it and eventually Louis gave up the argument when she realized that Niall wasn’t backing down. She and Harry walked back to Louis’ together, not saying much but not really needing to, either.

Chapter Text

Harry left her mid-afternoon doctor’s appointment with only one thing on her mind: getting back to the apartment before four o’clock. It wasn’t a far walk, and so she hustled across town, checking her watch as she opened the door to see that it was only 3:15 and breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

Louis was gone when she let herself in, greeting her spider plant and brushing a hand fondly over its leaves before pulling her hair away from her face and grabbing the telephone. She dialled the number from memory, hardly looking as she released the dial from each number and heard its light trilling on the way back. The phone rang once, twice, and then on the third ring she heard someone pick up.

“Smith residence, Mrs. Smith speaking,” Gemma said on the other end of the line. Harry felt her heart catch on the sound and release as she willed herself to say something in return.

“Gems it’s me, please don’t hang up?” Harry’s voice nearly caught in her throat, and she had to cough to clear it. “I don’t know what Mother’s told you, but--”

“Harry. Stop it, stop. I’ve missed you. It doesn’t matter right now, whatever’s happened. How are you? Where are you? Why haven’t you called me?”

It hadn’t occurred to Harry just how much she’d missed the sound of her sister’s voice, but she had. She could practically imagine Gemma’s face as she spoke, the way her mouth was turning up at the ends when she said she missed Harry.

“I’m okay. I’m staying with someone. What did Mother tell you? Did she say anything?”

“The only thing she told me is not to try calling you. She said she and Father were ‘handling it’ but I spoke to him alone last week and he said they hadn’t spoken to you either. Is it--” Gemma paused, sighing before she spoke again. “Is it the thing you told me? About being in love?”

Harry nodded even though she knew Gemma couldn’t see her. “Yes. Mother found out. She came down and went through my things, and I couldn’t go home with her. I know you don’t want to talk about it--”

“Is that why you haven’t called?” Gemma sighed. “We can talk about anything if the alternative is not speaking to you. I’ve missed you. You’re my sister, Harry. My only sister. My family.” Gemma’s voice cracked and Harry realized she had tears welling up in her own eyes.

“I was so scared, Gems. I thought you’d hate me like Mother does. That you’d hang up on me straightaway.”

“She doesn’t hate you, honestly.” Harry made a slight sound of disagreement and Gemma snapped back, “she doesn’t .” They both went silent for a moment, Harry weighing her next words carefully, not wanting to push her sister away. Gemma spoke before she could. “I think she’s just scared. I was, after you told me.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. All of it, I think? I knew a couple of girls at school who went with other girls, but they gave it up after graduation, went and met someone and got married like we all did. But you’re not in school anymore. I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know what it means.”

“It’s just love. Like the kind of love you have, really.” Harry thought it was better, even if only for herself, but she desperately needed Gemma to understand what she meant, and she wasn’t trying to push anything. “I met someone who makes me feel safe and grounded and better than I ever have. Like if it was only her and I forever, that might be enough. Does that make sense?”

“It does, yes. I mean, I don’t see how you feel that for a woman, but it sounds like what I feel for Michael.”

“That’s why I couldn’t call you,” Harry said quietly, trying to hide her frustration with Gemma.

Gemma hesitated before responding. “Because of Michael?”

“No, no. Because you didn’t understand. And I thought you didn’t want to.” Harry pulled at a loose thread in her blouse and bit her lip, trying to think of how to make her sister understand. “What if when you started seeing Michael I’d said I didn’t want you to talk about him? If I never even gave you a chance to do more than tell me his name?”

“But he’s a man, and I’ve always gone with men. You have to understand that it’s funny for me to think of.”

Harry scoffed. “It’s not so odd. And I’m not, either.” She paused, taking a breath. “If we’re going to talk I want more than just being allowed to talk about Louis. I want you to care and ask questions. I want you to really see me and not just have this image of who I am with a whole part missing.” Harry tugged at the thread she’d been fiddling with, pulling at it til it broke. “Can you?”

“I want to. And I’ll try.”

Harry could hear the determination in Gemma’s voice, the same tone she’d had when she’d told their parents that she planned on going to college no matter what they thought, and a small part of her released a tense knot she hadn’t realized she had. “I really need you to,” she said softly.

“Well, we have another fifteen minutes before Mother comes over. What can you tell me about Louis? It sounds like you’re over the moon for her.”

“I am,” Harry said, a smile spreading across her face. She spent the next ten minutes or so telling Gemma what she could, fielding questions about whether or not Louis had gone to college, what she did for work, and how pretty she was. She rolled her eyes at the last question, but couldn’t keep herself from telling her sister that Louis was utterly gorgeous.

Before they said goodbye, Gemma took down Harry’s new address and phone number, promising that they could have a regular phone call at least once a week and swearing that she wouldn’t talk to their mother about it without Harry’s permission.

As they laid in bed that night after Louis got home from work, Harry told her all about the call with Gemma. Louis listened, stroking Harry’s hair as she talked, and leaned down to kiss her when she was done with her story.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it? Do you feel good about all of it?”

Harry looked back at Louis, giving a small nod. “I do. I think it helped when I told her how safe you make me feel. How it’s like what she has with Michael.”

“I feel like that with you too, you know?” Louis’ hand drifted slowly to Harry’s. “Safe. Loved. Like coming home.”

“Enough that you want me to stay?” Even as Harry asked the question she wished she could take it back. They hadn’t really talked about Harry finding a new place yet, and of course Louis had said she could be there as long as she needed to be. But Harry was realizing more and more that she didn’t want to find somewhere else to live. She wanted to be with Louis. To be home. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“No need to apologize. And I do need to answer. Or want to, I guess.” Louis took a deep breath and Harry braced herself for the worst. “I want you to stay with me. I know this place is small, so we could look for something bigger if you wanted, but I don’t mind sharing this tiny place with you.”

Harry nodded, wanting to let Louis finish and desperate to tell her yes and kiss her face and show just how happy she felt.

“I know it’s fast, but I’m not scared of it with you.”

“Yes. I mean, me too,” Harry said, practically breathless. “I’m really not scared of any of it with you.” She brought Louis’ hand to her lips and kissed it softly. “And being with you is everything I wanted it to be. All the things I hoped for and didn’t know I could find.”

Louis groaned and tugged Harry toward her, hugging her close. “Why do you have to be so unbelievably amazing all the time?” She kissed Harry’s temple and whispered, “and how can you expect me to believe you really find my lack of organization and inability to cook more than a little breakfast anything but annoying? As if I don’t know you hate it.”

Harry squealed as Louis nuzzled into her neck, making soft snuffling sounds and planting ticklish little kisses just below her ear. “I’ll have you know I find it charming,” she said when she’d finally managed to free herself enough to control her laughter. “At least for now.”

They cuddled into one another in spite of the heat, and Harry laid her head on Louis’ chest. She couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it all felt, how right. Of course it hadn’t been all that easy-- she’d struggled to balance her relationship and her job, had cut off contact with her mother, and hadn’t been entirely sure of herself for a while when she and Louis first started seeing each other --but somehow it was still as though everything had happened just as it should. And when she closed her eyes she felt like she could see the path they’d walk together so clearly that it almost made her want to cry.

“I’m really in love with you, Lou. I don’t think it’ll end and I don’t think I’ll get tired of you. You’re just-- you’re who I want with me.” Harry hid her face in Louis’ armpit. “God, it’s embarrassing to be so gone for you, isn’t it?”

“Harry, look at me.” Louis shifted until Harry was forced to lift her head. “It’s not embarrassing in the least. And when I say I haven’t felt this way before I’m not exaggerating, alright? You’re it for me too, as far as I’m concerned. And I know Niall will never stop razzing me for it, but I’ve never felt more ready to make a life with someone. Nothing has ever felt this right.”

They kissed and Harry felt like she was melting into a puddle of dazed happiness, her good feelings mixing with Louis’ like a love soup that she could swim in if she wanted to.

Chapter Text

The door to the bookstore opened and Louis scooped Sappho up, ignoring her meowing protests as she walked her over to the door to Niall’s place. “Sorry, but there are going to be a lot of women here and you know you’ll run off and try to start a romance with some other lady cat who doesn’t appreciate you.” She set Sappho on the stairs and the cat let out one more flat little meow before turning to saunter up the steps. “Niall made me do it, anyway. You know I’d let you stay down here.”

“Niall made you do what?” Niall asked from right over Louis’ shoulder. “Nothing, that’s what Niall can make you do.”

“I was defending myself to Sappho,” Louis explained, shutting the door behind her. “And I’ll have you know that we’re completely prepared for the event today, just like you asked.”

“Ah, well, did I make you do that, or did you do it for your lady love? That’s the question.” Niall raised her eyebrows, knowing grin on her face as Louis tried to roll her eyes and pretend that Niall wasn’t 100% correct. She knew that Harry saw Zayn’s album release concert as her own sort of pet project since she’d been helping with the recording process along the way.

“What matters is that it’s done. And you didn’t have to do any of it.” Louis poked at Niall’s shoulder and Niall grumbled, trying to hide her slight grin. They’d talked a lot about how Louis had changed since being with Harry, her confidence and ambition growing the more time they spent together. Today was evidence of that in more ways than one.

“And you’re ready for your reading?” Niall’s eyes twinkled as she watched Louis squirm a bit.

“Yes!” Louis huffed, feigning exasperation. “Of course I’m ready. I’ve had my pieces picked out for weeks and I’ve run through them with Harry a few times.”

She was prepared, yes, but emotionally Louis still felt less than ready to read her poems-- three of them, anyway --aloud to a crowd full of women. The difference, though, was that now she wanted to read them, whereas before she’d been fine with being just a mostly anonymous voice in a poetry journal. Opening for Zayn was a lot of pressure, comparatively, but she knew Harry would be there and that made it feel okay.

“Well I’ve got it from here,” Niall said, patting Louis on the shoulder. “In case you wanna take time to get ready.” She gave Louis’ arm a squeeze. “You’ll blow ‘em away, woman. You’re made of the right stuff.”

Louis couldn’t help herself; she pulled Niall into a quick hug. “Thanks. Means a lot from you.” She let go and went to gather her notebook and sit outside in the sunshine. She wouldn’t be able to practice there, but she felt like the lovely weather would do her some good.

She hadn’t been outside for long when she got the feeling she should look up. Sure enough, she could see Harry at the end of the block, flowers in her arms and her hair loose and blowing in the breeze. Only a moment later, Harry locked eyes with her, a smile spreading across her face as she did.

They had a way of doing that-- sensing one another’s presence --that Zayn called their twin flame energy. She’d tried to explain it at one point, but it hadn’t made much sense to Louis. All she knew was that when Harry was near it was as though she was a magnetic force, drawing Louis’ attention to her no matter what. She still thought about the first time she’d seen Harry, just watching her across the street from the bookstore, and wondered if it was that same magnetism that had made her look up then. Harry just said they were meant to be, and that was enough for both of them, really.

Harry was crossing the street now, picking up her pace as she got closer. Louis moved to meet her, kissing her in greeting when she did.

“I was going to try to hide these until after you’d performed, but I didn’t account for you being outside,” Harry said, tipping one of the bouquets of peonies that she was holding toward Louis. “Do you want them now for inspiration, or afterward for congratulations?”

“I want you now and flowers later. Or, well, you and flowers later. You can choose the order.” She brushed a curl off Harry’s face and smiled as Harry leaned into the touch like a cat seeking affection.

“Let me set my things down and you can have me,” she said, nodding toward the door. “Zayn’s not here yet, is she?”

Louis shook her head. “She should be soon, but not yet. She doesn’t like coming too early, usually.” Harry returned a moment later with her hands empty and sat down next to Louis, resting her head on Louis’ shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Little bit nervous. Mostly excited, though, I think.” Louis linked their arms together and took Harry’s hand in hers. “It feels right. Opening for Zayn, reading here, the poems we chose. All of it.” Harry squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Lou. This is everything you deserve.”

They sat outside together catching up on their day. Louis hadn’t done much other than work, though a group of women came in to visit Womon's Direction from West Germany, which was definitely out of the ordinary. Of course they’d seen the ad in Lesbian Connection, which made Harry smile since she’d done the same.

Harry’s work day had been completely uneventful, as usual, though she had stopped back at the apartment and had a letter waiting from Gemma, which always made her happy. She pulled it out of her pocket to show it to Louis, smoothing the creases as she held it between the two of them.

“She’s actually going to come down for a visit later this month. And she told Father about it and he’s writing me a letter to send along.”

“You’re glad you had her talk with him, then?” Just before Christmas Harry’s father had pulled Gemma aside to ask if she’d heard anything from Harry, saying he missed her. They’d spoken twice since, Harry calling him at his office both times, and though it hadn’t gone well Harry had handled it better than Louis thought she could’ve if their positions were switched.

“After our last call? I guess it depends on what his letter says.” Harry sighed and folded Gemma’s letter up, stowing it away again. “If he’s made any improvements or put in some sort of effort, I want to keep trying with him.”

“If he hasn’t?” Louis rubbed Harry’s back.

“I might take another break. But I want him in my life. Mother too. Even so, if I don’t have them, I’m not alone.” Harry nudged at Louis’ side before resting her head on Louis’ shoulder. “I have you, of course. And a lot of other people here too.”

“And things are good with Gemma,” Louis added. “She’s grown heaps and I can’t wait to meet her.” She turned and kissed the top of Harry’s head, enjoying the warm smell of her, sweaty and cozy like a summer morning in bed. It made her want to stay there on the sidewalk until nightfall.

“Two of our favorite wimmin!” Liam shouted from about a half block away. Zayn was on her arm, hair done in an elaborate braid that she was playing with, twisting it and then letting it go; she fixed Louis and Harry with a knowing smile and whispered something to Liam, who just waved at them when she and Zayn finally came to the door.

“Zayn’s giving us a moment,” Louis said, turning to look at Harry. She pursed her lips, one eyebrow arched, hoping Harry would know what she meant. Harry tsked and then leaned in to give Louis a kiss. Then another and another. It was almost a full on necking session, but Louis didn’t let herself lose complete track of time and neither did Harry.

“We should go in,” Harry said, breathless after their last kiss. “Make sure everything is set up.” Louis nodded, and the two of them got up and went inside, hand in hand.

*****************

When she’d arrived at their apartment after work earlier that afternoon, flushed from her walk, the first thing Harry did was check the mail. She’d been expecting a letter from Gemma, but getting it before Louis’ big night was a bit of a surprise. She tried not to think about it too much as she hurried up the stairs to change. After setting her work clothes aside-- she could easily get another wear out of them before they needed dry cleaning --and pulling on a soft old t-shirt of Louis’ and her favorite skirt, Harry gave herself a moment to sit down and take a breath. She opened Gemma’s letter carefully, working her short thumbnail under the flap of the envelope until she could peel it up.

Having taken her time opening the letter, Harry felt a little more ready to actually read it. She pulled out the paper, unfolding it on her lap and smiling to herself at Gemma’s neat cursive, so different from the her own penmanship or Louis’ messy scrawl. The letter looked as though it had been taken out and put away several times, the creases in the paper worn in and just starting to go soft at the edges.

As she read, that made sense, Gemma talking about how things were going with their father. Apparently she’d had a couple more talks with him privately and thought she might’ve made some advances with him even though he still hadn’t acknowledged Louis’ existence. Harry could imagine it, considering how her own talks with him had gone. He’d wanted to talk to her, sure, but the moment she talked about anything other than work or the most general parts of her life, he’d cough and then go quiet until he could change the subject.

Gemma talking to him probably wouldn’t make a difference, though. Harry worried at her lower lip as she continued reading, pausing when she realized she hadn’t actually taken in most of what she’d seen. She set the letter aside and put her head in her hand, closing her eyes, her other hand clenched at her side.

It would’ve made her sad before, but now it mostly made her angry. The idea that you could choose which parts of someone you wanted to love-- that it was perfectly fine to only see a quarter of a person’s life and still try to call yourself their family --made Harry feel like she had fire surging up her chest and throat until she could breathe fire herself. She’d had a lot of long talks with Louis and a few other women she’d met before she started to own that her feelings had shifted. Of course she’d cried at first, but when the tears stopped coming she kept worrying she was blocked or that maybe it was time to just move on to forgiveness.

She had been writing on a park bench on one of the nicer days in March when she realized she was enraged. She’d been letting herself fall into a stream of consciousness, not picking her pen up from the page as she wrote, and it was like a dam burst inside of her. Her guilt was washed away and she understood that she was angry. With her mother, for spending so many years not seeing her, with her father for going along with it, even with Gemma for continuously backsliding, forgetting to ask about Louis or minimizing the time Harry had been with her. Beyond that she was angry with the government, with white men, with other women who helped hold one another back.

And though she’d mostly stopped being actively angry, sometimes when she thought about her family the rage still swelled up inside of her. She opened her eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and then picked up the letter to start reading again, her spirits lifting when Gemma said she’d like to come down for a visit if Harry would have her.

“Father wants to send a letter along,” Gemma wrote. “I told him if he’s doing that he needs to remember who you are now and not who he wants you to be. I know I keep messing it up too, but I want him to try to do better for you. Should I read it before you to know if it’s worth bringing along? I hope you’ll tell me what you want me to do.”

Harry sighed, grateful that Gemma was making a strong effort but frustrated that it all felt so difficult. How was loving a woman so dangerous and confusing for her family to understand when it was the first thing that felt really right for Harry? And how could they see how well Harry was and still not realize that so much of it was due to finding herself and loving Louis?

She read through the rest of the letter quickly, making a mental note to call Gemma tomorrow, and got ready to leave, splashing a bit of water on her face and stuffing the flyers she’d secretly made at work a few days earlier into her bag. She took a different route than usual to the bookstore, stopping at a market that usually had a decent flower selection and grabbing two lush bouquets of peonies, one for Louis and one for Zayn.

By the time she and Louis went inside the bookstore, Niall was finishing the set up, grousing about how she did all the work with no help, ever. Harry laughed, and Niall tossed a flimsy paper cup in her direction, just missing her head, so she picked it up and stacked it with the others, poking Niall in the side. “Can’t say nobody helped now,” Harry teased. Niall just managed to hold back a smile.

Louis followed Zayn upstairs to do some last minute preparations for the show-- “probably involving tea or candles,” Louis had said with a laugh --and so Harry took a moment to pull out the flyers she’d brought, hanging a few on the cork board and stacking the rest on the refreshment table and near the register. She was in the process of hanging one on the door when Liam came over waving one at her.

“Your flyer, Harry! It’s great!” Liam grasped Harry’s shoulder warmly. “Your first wimmin’s writing group. It’s going to be absolutely magical.” She gave a little squeeze and then let go, looking back down at the paper she was holding. “How many wimmin do you think you’ll accept?”

“I don’t want it to be larger than ten, but I don’t know that it’ll get that much interest. I’m still so new, you know?”

Liam shook her head. “You’re not anymore. The wimmin who come here know you, and most of them also know you’ve been writing with Zayn.”

“But that’s-- it’s not as though anything I’ve come up with has made it into her songs yet.” Harry tugged at a loose curl. “I doubt anyone is specifically going to be excited about writing with me , you know?”

“No,” Liam said with a fond smile. “I don’t know. I’d be excited to write with you. You’ve got a spark, Harry. I can sense these things.” She reached out her hand again, resting it on Harry’s shoulder more softly. “You have a lot to give to the women of the world.”

Harry tilted her head so that it rested on Liam’s hand for just a moment, smiling back at her friend with fond admiration. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.” She paused for a moment, and then nodded her head. “I think you are, actually.”

The first of the women started arriving then, trickling in slowly at first and then coming in larger groups until the bookstore was more crowded than it had ever been. Harry stood back, welcoming people in and keeping an eye out for the women who’d made it their mission to keep Zayn out of any space they deemed one of theirs. They’d boycotted Womon’s Direction not long after Pride, but Niall said she didn’t trust them not to show up anyway, so she’d told Harry to let her know if any of them came by. As the start time approached and fewer people were walking in, Harry breathed a little sigh of relief, waving to Niall and giving her a thumbs up, then stepping outside to look up and down the street for any signs of women rushing to make it in, closing the door behind her when she didn’t see anyone.

“Go on, get up to the front. Need to see your girl.” Niall shoved at Harry, pushing her toward the back of the store where Louis and Zayn were standing together, Liam between them with her arm around Zayn’s waist and her hand on Louis’ shoulder. Harry joined them quietly, kissing the back of Louis’ neck as she wrapped her arms around Louis’ middle. She felt Louis relax into her and smiled to herself, pleased at the thought that Louis felt so much comfort in her embrace.

“Niall’s giving the go ahead to get started,” Liam said. “You ready, Lou?”

Louis shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.” She turned in Harry’s arms and leaned in to kiss her. “You’ll be watching me from here?” She looked up at Harry, all of her emotions right there behind her eyes-- her nerves, the fear and excitement, the heart race of adrenaline, and a rush of love --and all Harry could do was smile and kiss her again.

“I’ll be with you. I’m always right with you.” Harry brushed her nose against Louis’. “Now go amaze these women with your words, sweetheart.”

Louis stepped in front of the microphone and greeted the crowd in front of her with a smile and an air of confidence that Harry knew was at least a bit of a put on, though she knew nobody else in the room would believe that. She introduced herself and Harry watched as she pulled out her work and began her reading, starting out with the first poem of hers that Harry had ever read, “Fireproof.”

By now Harry had most of the piece memorized, having read it herself more than she’d admit and having heard Louis practice it for the past few weeks, getting the timing right on each phrase. She still found herself biting her lip, tense as the poem reached her favorite part and smiling each time Louis said the words that were repeated throughout like a mantra: “It’s been so long, maybe we’re fireproof.”

The women clapped at the end and Harry felt like she could breathe again, joining them and giving her own little hoot, blowing a kiss when Louis looked at her. Louis started up her next poem, “Sleeping Beauty.” She’d written it not long after she and Harry got together, though she’d only shared it with Harry in December, giving it to her as part of her Christmas gift. Harry inhaled deeply as Louis started reciting it, her pulse racing at the thought that it was about her. For her. Shared with her permission, of course, but still such a public display of their love. Something that would’ve seemed so impossible just a year before.

“Blood. Tears. The vital

salt of our body. Each

other’s mouth.

Dreamlike

the taste of you

sharpens my tongue like a thousand shells,

bitter, metallic. I know

as I sleep

that my blood runs clear

as salt

in your mouth, my eyes.”

Harry swallowed at the intimacy of it, only daring to look around as Louis said the last lines of the poem. Nobody was looking at her, of course, except for Louis, whose eyes she met as the applause started. Harry put her hand to her heart and lifted her brows with a smile, happy to watch Louis’ eyes crinkle as she grinned back. She bowed slightly at all the clapping, blushing lightly, and Harry once again felt an overwhelming fondness blooming in her chest that made her want to run over and pull Louis into a hug, kissing her breathless.

Louis had one more poem, though, and so Harry held herself back, waiting for the applause to die down so Louis could introduce the next piece. It was the only one Harry hadn’t actually heard, and she was eager to know what it was about and why exactly Louis had insisted on keeping it a secret.

“I have one more poem for you tonight. I wrote it for a woman whose strength and bravery and warmth have made me feel stronger and braver and more myself than I ever have before. I never thought I would find a love like the one I have with her.” Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes as Louis spoke, and she did her best to hold them back, wanting to focus all her energy on listening to the words Louis was about to speak. “This is called ‘Home.’”

It was everything that they’d talked through and lived, especially for the past few months. The conversations about what they wanted and whether or not they could make it together-- living in a small space, having little contact with their families of origin, worrying about all the details of life that added up day after day --all of it came together in Louis’ words, bound up with the words, “I’ll be your light. You’ll never feel like you’re alone. I’ll make this feel like home.”

As Louis spoke the last words, Harry let her tears fall, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before joining in with the clapping of all the women in the room. She felt the brush of fingers on the back of her arm and then smelled Zayn’s warm patchouli aroma, and she welcomed the hug that Zayn gave her a moment later.

“She was so worried that it wasn’t right,” Zayn whispered to Harry. “But I told her you’d love it. That you’d feel every bit of her words. Did you?”

Harry nodded. “It was perfect. She took the feelings we’ve been expressing to one another and she made them so clear.” Harry dabbed at her eyes again and shook her head. “I love her so much.” Zayn hugged her tighter, and Harry could feel the love for both of them radiating out of her. There was so much that was unknown, but Harry felt certain that she had family here. People who saw her and who would love her for herself, every piece and part, for as long as they knew her. “And you. All of you, it’s. It really is home. Or. You are, all of you.”

“And Louis especially,” Zayn said as she released Harry. “I understand. I think we all do. You’re so important to us.”

Before Harry could say anything else, Louis was standing in front of her, eyes sparkling and a hopeful smile on her face. “Did you like it?” Harry scrunched her nose, unable to contain the wonderfully fond feeling she had at the moment.

“It was everything, Lou. Everything.” The air between them felt charged, and though Harry considered trying to hold herself back she wasn’t able to keep from reaching out and touching Louis, which only led to pulling her closer. And that led to their lips coming together, eyes falling closed as they kissed. Harry felt the warmth coming off of Louis’ skin, the dampness at her back where she’d been sweating during her reading. For just a moment they were somewhere outside of reality, just the two of them and nobody else for miles, the press of their bodies the only thing that mattered.

Harry thought that she could stay like that forever until she felt a huff of breath from Louis’ nostrils that was followed by the separation of her lips from Harry’s. She opened her eyes and vaguely registered a snicker that she knew belonged to Niall, following Louis’ gaze to find Niall standing nearby with a smirk on her face. Harry looked back to Louis with a furrowed brow.

“Really Ni? How long can we go at it?” Louis was indignant, but Harry couldn’t help but giggle.

“Oh, Niall. You don’t want to know,” Harry said with an exaggerated wink. Niall cackled, throwing her head back, and Harry leaned back in to give Louis one last peck on the lips. “We’ll pick it back up later, hm? I love you, Lou.”

Louis squeezed her hand and headed off to the back where a small group of women had congregated to talk with her. Harry watched her go and then went back to the door to look out for anyone who might be trying to come to antagonize Zayn, hoping none of them would show their faces.

She thought back to the first night she’d seen Zayn perform and the women who’d sat behind her, spewing their hateful thoughts loud enough that anyone around them could hear. She had moved on from regretting that she hadn’t said anything to stop them then-- she’d been so unaware of what was happening with other lesbians that she hadn’t entirely understood them, after all --and now focused on making spaces safer and better, not just for Zayn but for all women who didn’t fit within the boxes that a select few had determined were right.

Zayn had been instrumental in all of it, though. Their long talks over tea on nights that Louis was working at the bookstore revealed that both women shared a lot of history and experiences, and eventually those chats turned into casual songwriting sessions. When Zayn had started working on her album in earnest, she’d asked Harry to work with her on a couple of songs and offered to teach her about all the aspects of making music, from handling sound equipment and making recordings to basic guitar playing. Harry had agreed without hesitation.

The room was starting to quiet down a bit, and Harry noticed that Zayn wasn’t far from the microphone, doing her final little pre-show rituals. Harry took one more look around to see if she recognized (or didn’t recognize) any of the faces around her. One woman stood out. Her blonde hair was done in two braids and she wore a nice blouse with a pair of jeans that looked brand new as she stood amongst the biographies pretending to be deeply interested in the way they were arranged.

“Think Zayn’s about to get started, if you’re here for her?”

The woman jerked her hand back from the bookshelf and looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Sorry, right, yeah.” She picked an invisible piece of lint off her shirt. “I am here for Zayn. I saw a flyer in, um, a bar not far from here.”

“Are you here alone? I’ll sit with you if you’d like.” The woman chewed at her lip for a moment before nodding back at Harry.

“That would be cool of you, if you don’t mind? Sorry, I’m just new here and--”

Harry stopped her with a gentle touch to her arm, smiling and shaking her head softly. “Don’t apologize for being part of a space that’s made to fit you. Come on. I’ve got to stay near the door for this, but there’s plenty of room to sit.” The woman followed behind Harry and joined her on the floor, looking around the room nervously. “Were you here for the first part?” Harry asked.

“Yes, yeah. She was great, gosh. I write a little but I could never be like that.” The woman put her hands in her lap and looked around the room, and Harry took a moment to check on Zayn’s status. She was tuning her guitar, the sounds of her fingers on the strings drifting out quietly. The woman continued, “I mean I guess I wish I could be like that. That brave and that good. But…” she shrugged as an end to her sentence and Harry cocked her head to the side, studying the woman for a moment.

“Give me one second,” Harry said as she stood up and grabbed a flyer from near the register. She sat back down and handed it to the woman with the information side up. “I’m starting a writing group if you’d like to come. It won’t be big, and it’ll be here, so you shouldn’t have a problem finding it.”

The woman looked hesitant, so Harry continued carefully. “I never shared my writing with anyone when I first came here a year ago, and now I’m starting a group. I promise it’ll be friendly.” The woman shrugged again.

“Maybe?” She said, shrugging again. “Sorry, I mean I want to go, but I just don’t know if I really can ? You know what I mean?” Harry nodded. She was about to respond when Louis caught her eyes then and waved at her, smiling as she made her way through the crowd to join Harry.

“Hi baby,” Louis said, leaning down to give Harry a kiss. “Who’s this?” Harry brought her hand to her face and shook her head at herself.

“I didn’t even ask your name! Or tell you mine. I’m Harry, and this is my girlfriend, Louis. You’re?”

The woman tugged at one of her braids and smiled a little too wide. “I’m Sally, um. Sal, actually. I’m trying to go by Sal now. Just to see if it fits me.” Harry and Louis both nodded at her and she blushed a little, laughing nervously. “Sorry, it’s my first time around this many women who are…” she trailed off but looked at them both significantly, raising her brows for a moment.

“Friends of Sappho?” Louis asked. She squeezed Harry’s knee and Harry leaned into her side, letting out a laugh when Sal nodded at them with a grin on her face.

“Exactly that,” she said. Before she could say anything else the room fell quiet as Zayn stepped up to the microphone, softly strumming her guitar. Harry turned toward her, feeling everyone else do the same. Zayn stood in the middle of the room looking regal and effervescent, her long hair unbraided now and falling in loose waves over her shoulders and her favorite purple dress glinting when the light hit it just right. Beside her, Harry heard Sal sigh with contentment, and she settled into Louis and prepared to listen in earnest.

Zayn started with a welcome that was part chanted prayer and part song, something that she’d been doing for herself for years that she’d only just decided to share publicly. It covered the room with peace, leaving Harry feeling open and warm and receptive. Louis’ hand was resting on her knee and she put her own on top of it, wanting that extra piece of connection.

She followed that song with some of the ones she was known for-- Common, Slender Wet Branches, and Rainberry --and Harry couldn’t help but cheer internally when she heard a few women singing lowly under their breath. Even without an album and with so few performances, some of the women in the crowd seemed to know Zayn’s music. Now that she was releasing a real record, their numbers could only grow. Even without Olivia Records, Zayn was going to have an impact on their community. If that hadn’t already brought Harry to tears, Zayn’s next song would have.

“Thank you, wimmin. My next song is very personal. Up until now, I’ve always thought of sharing music that I felt could be universal. I’ve sung about love and heartbreak, attraction to beautiful wimmin-- the kinds of things that all of us can relate to.” The crowd giggled and Zayn smiled back at them, nodding her approval. “But I started writing with a friend recently, leading up to this album, and I saw something I hadn’t before: there are threads that connect all of us in each experience. What’s happened to me may not look the same as what’s happened to you on the surface, but the feeling-- the part that counts --” Zayn held her hand over her heart and closed her eyes, taking a breath before continuing, “that’s something that binds us as wimmin, as lesbians, as queer outsiders on this planet.”

Even her introduction was enough to make Harry’s heart ache, but knowing what was coming made Harry take a deep breath, tears spilling over as she grasped Louis’ hand tighter as Zayn continued.

“The next two songs are very personal. This first one is called ‘Freedom’ and I hope you’ll see a piece of yourselves in it too.” The song had a brightness to it, Zayn’s voice taking on a kind of childlike quality as she started singing the song that she’d written about her childhood and growing into herself. “Oh Freedom, come to me now! I feel like a feather pinned under a plow. The mask I could wear seems to choke me somehow, and I can’t find the courage to cry right out loud.” Harry swayed to the rhythm, smiling even though she was still crying a bit. “Little girls and their dresses and boys and their guns, and me in some center, just sitting. I’m neither the other nor neither this one, and I feel like a poem half written.”

Beside her, Harry could hear Louis’ inhale on that line. Louis hadn’t heard all of the song yet-- Zayn had been so guarded about the newer songs she’d been working on --and from the way that she reacted, it was hitting home for her, which made Harry press a kiss to her shoulder and wish that they could’ve been lying in bed together listening to the record the first time Louis heard the new songs. Not that she would trade this moment, really, but she wanted to hear every thought Louis had. They weren’t Harry’s songs by a mile, but she’d been with Zayn through so much of the writing that they still felt personal to her.

As she played the final chords, the crowd of women started applauding right away, a few sending up hoots and cheers as Zayn beamed back at them, bowing her head in recognition of their praise. She met Harry’s eyes and Harry let out a whoop, grinning back at her, overcome with pride.

The applause died down slowly and Zayn thanked the crowd again, tuning her guitar for a moment before she continued to introduce her next song. “The next song is the only other new one I’m performing tonight, so you’ll have to buy the album-- Amazayn --if you want to hear the rest. It’s 100% wimmin made, and the artwork was done by my beautiful lover, Liam.” Liam put up her hand to wave to the crowd, smiling at Zayn as a light blush covered her cheeks.

“I started writing a version of this next song before I met her, but it wasn’t until I started writing with a precious new friend of mine that it began to take shape.” Harry smiled as Louis kissed her cheek, and from her other side she heard Sal quietly gasp upon realizing it was Harry that Zayn was talking about.

“Some of us are born knowing who we are and spend our youth shouting to be heard. But that’s not always how it goes. When I came to understand who I was and start trying to find other wimmin to build community with, it sometimes felt like they were speaking another language with one another and that I’d never understand them. I worried that by not knowing who I was right away, I’d wasted too much time. That I’d never catch up and get to the right place.”

Tears started welling up in Harry’s eyes again and she squeezed them shut, not wanting to be taken out of them moment in any way.

“This song was a way for my friend Harry and I to let go of the fears we had that we’d spent too long in the shadows of ourselves. It’s called ‘Good Years,’ and it might sound a little hopeless at first, but when you hear it just remember that the time you have now, this very present in this room right now: these are your good years. Nothing is wasted. You are just where you’re meant to be.”

Zayn started singing the song acapella, her voice clear and mournful as she sang, “I’d rather be anywhere, anywhere but here.” Harry thought back to the way that they’d come together over several weeks to work on the song, the slow process of putting their experiences into words together. Zayn’s journey had been harder than Harry’s in so many ways, but in the end they’d both found community, family, and home.

Louis rested her head on Harry’s shoulder as Zayn began playing the guitar with the verses of the song. Harry could hear the faint sound of her breathing and she laid her head against Louis’, appreciating the warmth of her in the moment.

As the song came to the bridge-- the lines that Harry felt the deepest --she sighed, letting her tears fall. “Need a chance just to breathe, feel alive. And when the day meets the night, show me the light. Feel the wind and the fire, hold the pain deep inside. It's in my eyes, in my eyes,” Zayn sang. Louis kissed her hand and Harry turned to her, sharing a long look. “I close my eyes and see a crowd of a thousand tears. I pray to god that I didn’t waste all my good years. All my good years.” They kissed as the song ended, Harry’s thoughts swimming with beautiful memories of the year she’d spent with Louis.

These were their good years, she knew. None of her time had been wasted as she figured out who she was. All of it was-- and would be --necessary to get her where she needed to be. Here, with Louis. In a bookstore surrounded by women, some of them friends and others strangers, with beautiful music all around them. This was the life that she’d wanted without knowing how to name it, and it was hers for as long as she let it be. And that would be a good long time.