Chapter Text
Making what felt like his hundredth bed, Harry hummed quietly to himself as he allowed himself the time to zone out for a moment. After placing a simple chocolate mint on both pillows of the bed, he marveled at his work. He was one hell of a bed-maker. At that moment, Liam waltzed in, balancing a jug of water and four glasses on a tray. Harry hurried up to Liam and grabbed the glasses from his shaking hands.
“Thanks,” Liam said with a thankful smile, placing the jug onto the lavish mahogany table and rearranging his tie, also pulling down his waistcoat which became rather bunched up. “I didn’t know you were on duty today, given the fact you were worked silly last night,” Liam commented offhandedly as Harry merely shrugged. “I could do with the money and I don’t mind cleaning around the rooms,” he replied. He was not meant to clean the rooms but did so anyways – it gave him something to do, seeing as nowadays, guests willing to splurge out on the Lanesborough were few and far between.
Liam was a gentleman, to say the least. As one of four butlers at the Lanesborough, his requirements for the job were simple: assist the guest in Junior Suite, unpack their clothes, press their clothes, provide wake-up calls and be of general assistance to the guest in their appointed suite. His master had left a couple of hours ago and Harry had offered to inspect the suite for any possible damages.
Harry was butler to whatever guest had the money to stay in the Royal Suite. Despite being young, upon working in the hotel since the ages of sixteen and seventeen, Harry and Liam had decided to train as butlers at the International Butler Academy. Formerly, they worked as bartenders and waiters and found that the pay was good, but not good enough.
Now, at the ages of nineteen and twenty one, they were very nearly the most remarkable butlers that the Lanesborough could have ever decided to hire. Being a butler was not a job for the faint-hearted. Harry gave little thought to himself and focused more on making others happy. He found happiness in other people’s happiness. Odd, but it was the truth.
“Did you hear the news?” Liam asked Harry as he dug into his waistcoat pocket to find a coin. “I’ve been in here for ages making sure everything’s perfect so, no, I haven’t. Indulge me,” Harry replied, watching as Liam let the coin fall onto the bed in which Harry made and nodding in triumph as it sprung back perfectly into Liam’s hand. “Someone’s booked the Royal Suite.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised and his mouth opened, “Seriously? Who?” he inquired incredulously. “I haven’t been given a name but apparently he’s a ‘miscreant with a plethora of gaudy tattoos,’ Hyacinth’s words, not mine.” Hyacinth was the hotel’s chef. She took great pride in her cooking and was known amongst the Lanesborough’s staff as being a grumpy middle-aged woman who didn't have anything better to do than whine and moan about how society nowadays were all to absorbed in the media and technology, et cetera.
“He’s a miscreant with gaudy tattoos? Staying in the Royal suite? Now that’s an eye opener,” Harry replied, with a thoughtful frown. Harry was a simple nineteen year old. He never did anything stupid or unexpected. He went to work, did his job, came home, and slept. Some might even say he wasn't a nineteen year old at all, but a 35 year old in a nineteen year old’s body. He couldn't even remember the last time he’d gone out with his friends. His friends were Liam and two others.
“Just because he has tattoos doesn't indicate he’s a miscreant, don’t mind that loopy chef, Haz, she’s just picking fights again. I’m sure this chap is lovely and not at all delinquent-like,” Liam reassured Harry with a pat on the back. “You have a-” Liam began but stopped himself as he picked a single visible white thread off of Harry’s shoulder. Grabbing a brush from his pocket he scrubbed Harry’s shoulder lightly and after feeling satisfied that Harry’s shoulder was now thread-free, he returned the brush to his pocket. “Have to keep ourselves looking spic and span!”
-
“I can’t believe I’m here again,” Louis groaned as he let his head fall into his arms resting on the table. “My weekend was far too short!” “It’s not that bad, you always make it out to be far worse than it actually is,” Harry said to Louis as he chose a card from his hand and placed it in the centre of the table. “But I’m fed up! All I do, day in and day out, is wait on people, pour people drinks, which I’d rather be drinking, by the way! And wear this bloody waistcoat and bow tie!” Louis said indignantly as he flicked the black bow.
“You look lovely in a bow tie, Louis,” Niall snickered, “Just be glad you’re not stuck washing dishes and peeling vegetables.”
“I’d rather peel countless potatoes than deal with a wasted millionaire, thank you very much,” Louis sighed and peered at his cards and proceeded to shake his head, “It’s no use, I’ve got nothing.” Admitting defeat, Louis stretched and placed his hands behind his head, observing the game of cards unfold.
Liam and Harry sat prim and upright, focusing on the cards in their hands. After a silence and after Louis staring Harry out of it, Harry sighed heavily and put his cards down onto the table, “What are you staring at me for?” Harry asked exasperatingly.
“Oh nothing,” Louis smirked, removing his hands from behind his head and placing one across the back of Niall’s chair instead.
Harry knitted his brows, knowing fully well that it wasn’t “nothing” that Louis was staring at. “Clearly it’s something, so come on, out with it,” he ushered with a wave of his hand.
Louis always needed to be talked to, to be stimulated, or else he’d grow bored incredibly easily. His boredom was often taken out on Harry.
“I’m guessing Liam has informed you of your new guest?” Louis inquired. Harry nodded. “Have you heard anything about him?” Harry shook his head, his curls falling slightly over his face. He was probably the only butler who defied the norm and allowed his curly mop of hair to be let loose, or rather, the manager allowed him to have his hair let loose.
“I haven’t, no… Should I have?” Harry asked with a lift of his eyebrow, knowing that Louis knew something and was now trying to see if Harry knew also. And after learning that Harry didn’t know, Louis smiled to himself. “I would’ve thought you would have known but, no, you shouldn’t have known I guess-“ “Tell me,” Harry interrupted, his gaze piercing Louis’.
“I don’t think it’s my place to-” “Louis, tell me,” Harry interjected again, “Don’t try me with the whole ‘it’s not my place to interfere’ because that is your place. You practically live in that place.”
With a folding of his arms and a glance at Niall and Liam who had now given up trying to play cards, he nodded and leaned forward, whispering, “Meet me outside at our next break, I’ve got exciting news for you, my dear Harry.”
-
"Louis is such a gossip," Liam said to Harry as they strolled through the luxurious hallways of the Lanesborough, "How could he possibly know anything about this new guest? He's a waiter and a bartender, not a head butler!" Liam continued, but Harry was hardly listening. He tended to go into himself a lot. It wasn't that he found Liam boring, he'd just heard it all before and was frankly sick and tired of Liam's incessant complaints about Louis.
"He may be yes, but I'm curious about this mysterious guest," Harry said as Liam stopped outside of the Grosvenor Suite, and swiped his key card across the detector before the door opened and they walked in. "It's been a while since my services have been needed and I'm happy that I'll no longer be confined to making the bed every day despite no-one sleeping in it the night before, I want to wait on someone again," Harry sighed as he allowed himself to take a seat at the large table in the living room area of the empty suite. The lavish suites were often empty these days.
Liam gave the suite a quick once over and once he was sure that everything was in order and spotless, he sat himself next to Harry. "The word 'miscreant' keeps playing in my mind," said Harry as Liam nodded, in thought.
"Hyacinth thinks everybody under the age of thirty are miscreants. We're probably miscreants!" Liam laughed but Harry shook his head, no. "I don't think so, Liam. I have a strange feeling that Hyacinth knows what she's talking about, for once."
-
Out in the crisp wintry air at their breaks, Liam and Harry looked on as Niall approached them, his apron an unappealing shade of grunge yellow and his hair all askew. "Well, lads," he gestured in his Irish lilt. "My hands are in bits," he whined and showed them to the two butlers. "I'll survive though, I always do," he said with a smile and a wink.
Louis then appeared from the exit and he grinned upon seeing his friends waiting for him. Harry stood upright and nodded to Louis who glanced behind him. "OK, I'd rather not discuss this here, we should go behind the wall," Louis voiced his worries as he nodded to the doorway in the stone wall which led out onto a lane way shrouded in trees. Milkmen and newspaper deliveries was what mainly came through the doorway, but other than that, it was a quiet little spot where they could chat and not be disturbed or overheard.
Huddling together, the four young men looked at each other in patience, waiting for Louis to begin. After a bought of silence, Harry frowned at Louis' lasting silence and kicked him in the shin, which earned him a whimper from Louis. "Well come on, tell us," Harry urged, his impatience getting the better of him.
"OK, OK. I overheard Mr. Hawthorne chatting with someone on the phone, when I was out in the yard, just over there," He pointed to the place just outside the exit door where they had previously been standing. Mr. Hawthorne was the strict and posh manager of the Lanesborough, and was a man who would not endure any person who was ignorant to the importance of etiquette and manners. "He was talking about the suite you manage, Harry, the Royal Suite, yes? Well, he told the person on the phone that he was worried about having this person in the suite, because apparently, this person has been known to ruin suites in the past. Could you imagine him ruining the Royal Suite? I'm sure Mr. Hawthorne would never let him live it down! But anyways. He throws a lot of parties, it would seem, and is accustomed to having women over and blaring music at godly hours. Mr. Hawthorne's worst nightmare, I would imagine."
Harry's face was a sight for sore eyes. His mouth muscles had completely slackened and his mouth formed a shapely O, his eyes were staring at Louis in disbelief and he was slowly shaking his head from side to side. "No, no, I can't be of use to a person like that!" He exclaimed as Louis shushed him.
"Will you stay quiet, I wanted to come out here for a reason! But that was all I managed to catch before I was called inside to wait a table. Looks like you've got a miscreant on your hands, Styles!" Louis laughed as he gave Harry a hard pat on the back.
"A miscreant, indeed," Harry mumbled under his breath. "Did you catch his name?" Harry asked Louis who nodded with a smirk on his face. That smirk was a constant feature on Louis' face and right about then, Harry wanted to slap it off.
"His name's Zayn."
-
Harry checked the Suite over multiple times, making sure the bed was perfectly made, the mini bar adequately filled with goodies and then glanced at himself in the mirror. His curls were cooperating with him today, which he was thankful for, but he had a horrid spot on his temple, which he wasn't thankful for. Once everything was in its correct place and met requirements, he scooted over to the door and stood. And waited.
He stood tall with his hands behind his back and his chin held high. He thought back to his teachings in the Butler Academy, "the taller you stand, the more you'll be viewed with respect." At first he felt like an idiot pointing his chin up towards the ceiling, but he became accustomed to it.
Suddenly, he heard voices coming down the hallway, one being Mr. Hawthorne's and another, being this mysterious guest's.
The door opened and in walked Mr. Hawthorne who gave a nod to acknowledge Harry's presence and walked straight into the living room area, past Harry.
In followed a young male, who wore dark jeans, a nirvana t-shirt with a tattered denim jacket worn over it, and dark shades covering his eyes. His hair was jet black, except for a hint of blonde at its tip. His hair was pushed back and two or three necklaces dangled from his neck. He walked straight past Harry also.
Harry remained in his stance, chin towards the ceiling and hands behind his back. "This is massive!" commented this new guest who left his shades on, despite being indoors. Harry took a mental note to roll his eyes once out of the Suite.
"Indeed it is, and is even larger once explored, Sir," Harry could sense Mr. Hawthorne's slight ignorance towards this young man, which would not be palpable to others but oh, Harry could pin-point the minuscule change in the tone of his voice. "It has three king-size bedrooms and a luxurious bathroom," Mr. Hawthorne went on, as Zayn wondered around the Suite. He peeked into a door and let out a "Nice!" as he launched himself onto one of the king size beds.
"I'll leave you to it, then, Sir," Mr. Hawthorne called in to Zayn who had since pulled out his blackberry and began typing furiously fast onto it. Mr. Hawthorne went to leave but then caught a glance of Harry who had not yet moved since Zayn's arrival.
"Oh, excuse me Sir, I would like to introduce you to your butler," Mr. Hawthorne called into Zayn, who emerged from the bedroom, still glancing at his phone.
"I have a butler? Talk about old-fashioned," Zayn smirked until he finally looked up from his phone. His gaze landed on Harry and his smirk disappeared almost immediately.
"Not old-fashioned, Sir, not in the slightest. Mr. Styles here's practically a novice to the job and loves his line of work," Mr. Hawthorne assured Zayn. Zayn simply nodded and kept his gaze on Harry, who remained with his hands behind his back and his chin held high. He was not to speak until spoken to.
"Mr. Styles, is it?" Zayn asked Harry. Harry's chin dropped and he faced Zayn head on now, and noticed the considerable growth of facial hair on the young man's face. "You're hardly even older than me, Mr. Styles, what are you doing as a butler?" Zayn asked, not intentionally to cause harm, but it did hurt Harry a bit due to the tone of voice Zayn put on.
"Hardly, Sir," Harry agreed. He was always taught that it was best to give the guest's what they wanted to hear. He could have been younger, for all he knew, but he would have to get to know Zayn more before he was eligible to ask his own questions.
"I'll leave you to it then, Sir!" Mr. Hawthorne said with a clap of his hands, "Mr. Styles will look after your every need. He provides endless services and I'm sure will be of great company to you during your stay. Welcome to the Lanesborough!" With a shake of Zayn's hand and a briefing on the rules of what-not to do in a £10,000 a night Suite, Mr. Hawthorne was gone.
Silence ensued as Zayn wandered into the kitchen and grabbed an apple which Harry had polished with a cloth earlier. Harry remained in his place and grew weary. Usually by now, the guests would have him doing a multitude of chores.
Zayn appeared again in the hallway and sauntered over to Harry. "So," Zayn began, and paused as he took a chunk out of his apple, "Could you recommend me any good clubs, Mr. Styles?"
Harry sighed inwardly, but merely said, "I beg your pardon, Sir?" Zayn laughed at Harry and repeated his question to which Harry replied, "I do not frequent such places, Sir."
Zayn's eyes went wide for a moment before he leant against the wall opposite Harry and continued eating his apple, still staring at Harry. Harry felt uncomfortable under his master's gaze. Because, technically speaking, Zayn was his master now. God help him.
"So, do you just stand there the whole time?" Zayn inquired, quite rudely, Harry noted, but Harry was a professional and would remain courteous to his master.
"I do, Sir. I await your command, Sir," Harry answered, and noticed Zayn's lips twitch ever-so-slightly into a devilish grin. The young man removed his sunglasses, "Finally," thought Harry, and threw them onto the mahogany table.
"Do you know who I am?" Zayn asked, "Not to sound pompous, I'm just curious..."
Harry knew his first name, but not his second. "I do not, Sir, Mr. Hawthorne hadn't briefed me on your details," Harry replied and cursed his manager for not de-briefing Harry about this peculiar person. He wouldn't say "Zayn," because Butler's didn't call their master's by their first name.
"Naughty Mr. Hawthorne!" Zayn mocked, but Harry remained stoic and serious. "Well, I'm Zayn. Zayn Malik."
Harry's tongue almost fell out of his mouth and his eyes almost went wider than ever as the name immediately went hand in hand with numerous tabloid headlines. Zayn was one of the most sought-after singer/songwriters in the world. But he wasn't only recognised for his singing, oh no. He'd had many run-ins with the law, mostly drug-related and drink-related, as well as many headlines about his incessant tendency to disturb hotel guests with his parties, his trashing of hotel rooms and his affinity for any woman that breathed. How had he not recognised Zayn? Harry put it down to the blonde streak in his hair and the shades covering his eyes.
But he composed himself and nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malik."
Zayn noticed the slight dip in Harry's composure upon hearing his name, and smiled at his Butler. What an unsuspecting soul he was, thought Zayn.
"Oh no, It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Styles."
It would seem that Hyacinth was right. A miscreant was what he was indeed.