Chapter Text
Harry knows he's not being punished. Really, he does. But when he steps out of the plane and walks into Arrivals in the Dublin airport, he can't help but feel that his mother sent him there out of spite.
The space is crowded as he maneuvers his heavy suitcase and carry-on. He definitely will need a lot of things if he is going to spend a whole month there. And being stuck on a goddamn farm in the middle of nowhere doesn't mean he won't dress nice.
He takes off his sunglasses and folds them, tucking them in the V of his T-shirt. His eyes scan the room as he looks for the person who is going to pick him up. Soon, he spots a mass of red hair waving at him and walking in his direction. He breaks into a smile.
“Aunt Jenny!” He exclaims and lets himself be hugged tight, folding his arms around the small woman's waist.
“Harry! Oh my God, I can't believe it's you!” She says with a smile, stepping back and holding his face in her hands. Her brown eyes are smiling just as much as her lips are. “You've gotten so big. Look how tall you are,” she says, and he's smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. He missed her.
“You look great with red hair, aunt Jenny.”
“Always a charmer,” she says and they start walking towards the exit. “I like that you're growing your hair, too. How long are you planning on growing it out?” She asks, softly running her fingers through his curls that fall below his ears.
“Only until my mum freaks out enough,” he half jokes.
“Oh, come on. You're eighteen now, isn't it time for teenage rebellion to end?” She says as they walk towards her pickup truck.
“It never even started,” he defends himself, although that's not true and they both know it.
“Fine. I've got a whole month to lecture you. Hop in.”
He puts his luggage in the back with a grunt, spotting small strands of grass here and there. He enters the battered pickup and the first thing Harry notices is the smell: a mix of fresh eggs and grass and something else he can't identify just yet. He scrunches his nose and slides in the passenger seat.
“How was your flight, sweetie?” She asks as she starts driving out of the airport.
“It was fine, just a little bumpy.”
“Ugh, I hate flying,” she says and it's not a secret to anyone how much she despises being off solid ground. Nevertheless, she still has many more miles under her belt than anybody else Harry knows.
“You can always take the ferry to visit us in London, you know,” he says, but he's not looking at her. Instead he's staring out the window as they reach the freeway. From the little bit he could see from Ireland, it truly was beautiful.
“I know, but I've just been so busy with the farm and all. It's a lot to take care of.”
“I hope I'm not intruding too much.”
“Nonsense,” she waves him off. “It's great to have you here. I can't believe we haven't seen each other in two years! And I miss your mom and sister so much, too.”
“They miss you, too,” he says and smiles at her.
“Mullingar is not far, and the farm is just a ten minute drive from the main street. You'll love it here, Harry. It's beautiful.”
“It must be, to steal your London heart,” he jokes and she laughs.
“It wasn't Ireland who stole my heart, but I'm glad he lives here,” she says and winks at him. Harry laughs and listens to her chat all the way to the farm, asking questions about him and his family.
Jennifer is not really his aunt, but he's been calling her like that since he learned how to speak. She's his mother's best friend and their families have been sharing a life for over twenty years. In addition to being his mother's best friend, she was also her business partner. Until she met Brian, that is.
Harry can clearly remember how joyful his mum pretended to be when Jennifer announced she'd met the most perfect man in the entire world and how she was going to move to Ireland so they could be together. She'd smiled and hugged her and said she would be fine, she could handle the business on her own – and did. Has done for the last two years, since Jennifer moved to Ireland.
But Harry can also remember how sad she'd gotten afterwards, when it was only the three of them.
“It's so selfish of me, to be sad when I'm really not. I just didn't want her to move so far away,” his mother had said, and he could see how she was struggling not to cry in front of them.
Things worked out eventually, as they always do. They talked on the phone for hours, his mum always asking for her opinion on risky business and chatting about life in general. They were all so busy that most of the time they barely noticed the distance, but it was there, and they all felt it.
“We're here,” she says with a smile. They're on a dirt road now, and Harry can see ryegrass all around him, and he doesn't know exactly where “here” is. She sees his confusion and explains. “This is where our land begins, the house and crops are a little ahead.”
And Harry is stunned. He knows they live on a big farm, has seen pictures of it, but he never realized just how much a few hundred acres actually are. He takes a deep breath and lets the pure, clean air fill his lungs. He smiles with his eyes closed. You don't have air like this in London.
Just a couple of minutes later and he sees it, the big farm house that he's seen countless of pictures of.
It's gorgeous. The exposed brick walls covered partially with ivy, the two floors with white painted windows facing east. There's an annex winter garden, its glass walls shining in the late afternoon.
She parks the pickup in front of it and Harry gets off, admiring the construction in front of him.
“It's over one hundred years old,” his aunt tells him and he rushes up to help when he notices she's picking up his heavy suitcase.
“It looks nice,” he says, completely honest.
“A pain to heat during winter, though,” she confesses and they cross the threshold.
Harry is surprised to see it looks nothing like her old flat in London. There, the furniture was new and scarce; in here, he can barely move without bumping into something.
There's a large living room that, despite its size, it's completely filled with light wooden furniture. Every surface is covered with bric-a-bracs, some with doilies under them. Two dark-orange couches face the large flat screen TV. Above it, a large cross adorns the wall.
“Here, let me give you a tour,” she says and he follows her into the kitchen.
The appliances are modern enough, but there isn't a dining room; instead, there is a big table inside the kitchen, making the room a little cramped.
“It's a little small, but it makes it easier to grab things when you're cooking,” she jokes and leads them upstairs. There are pictures along the wall all the way to the top, but Harry is too concentrated on not tripping on the edge of the old carpet on the steps as he drags his case that he barely looks at them. “Niall wanted you to stay in his room, but if I know you well enough, I thought you might want more privacy and set up a room of your own.”
“Thanks,” he says with a smile, and she pushes open a door. He looks around to see the room that is going to be his for the month.
The walls are painted white and the window is right above his bed, in the corner of the room. The curtain is a light green that gives a joyful tone to the small, almost empty bedroom, the only pieces of forniture being the single bed, the nighstand and the desk on the opposite end. The patchwork on the duvet and the brown rug give the whole room a home-y look.
“You'll have to share a wardrobe with Niall, the chest of drawers in here was eaten by termites, can you believe it? We're lucky it didn't get the bed.”
“It's no problem, aunt Jenny. Thanks for letting me have my own room,” he says and means it. He wheels the case next to his bed and follows her out.
“There, at the end of the hall is the suite,” she points to a closed door. “Here is Niall's,” he looks inside, the door slightly ajar. It doesn't look much different than his own, from what he can see. “And here's the bathroom you two will share. If you ever want to soak in the tub you'll have to use mine and Brian's, and don't be too shy to ask.”
Harry will never do that, but he's thankful she offered. The bathroom is small, the walls and floor covered in baby blue tiles. The shower only has a curtain for privacy, and the counter is bare except for a glass with a toothbrush and toothpaste in it, floss and a closed package for a toothbursh he assumes is for him. The white towels are embroidered and Harry thinks they look like they came out of his grandma's house.
“There's not much to it, I know,” she says as they walk back downstairs, “but it's home.”
Harry smiles at her.
“It's very nice, aunt Jenny. Thank you for having me.”
She pinches his cheek.
“It'll be a pleasure to have you here with us.”
“Where are Niall and Brian?” He asks, sitting down at the table as she makes them tea.
“They'll be here soon, they're still out there, working. Gotta enjoy dry weather when you have it,” she says, and puts down a mug in front of him. “They'll be back soon because it's getting dark. I'm so excited for you to meet them. Niall can show you the crops and animals tomorrow. He has been talking about having you here nonstop.”
“He has, huh?” Harry asks, feeling like he should say something like that back, but in reality he hasn't given much thought to him. He knows he's Brian's son, that he's seventeen and that he likes music.
“He's such a sweet boy, I think you'll get along well,” she says, finishing up her tea and getting up.
“Hum,” Harry says, not commiting to much.
“Shouldn't you call your mum, Harry? I'm sure she's worried about you.”
“Yeah, right,” he says, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“Why don't you go upstairs and freshen up while I get started on dinner?” She asks him gently and he nods. “There's fresh towels under the bathroom sink.”
“I'll take a quick shower and I'll get down to help,” he says, already dialing her number and going upstairs. As they talk he opens his carry-on and gets his shampoo and body wash out. From his suitcase he takes out a fresh pair of jeans and a slightly wrinkled flannel shirt. He balls them up with clean underwear and walks to the bathroom, setting it all down on the toilet lid and leaning on the sink, listening to his mother talk.
“I think you're going to have a great time there, honey,” she says and Harry shakes his head.
“Do you really think so? Is that why you sent me here after I didn't get into college? To have some fun?” He asks, and the resentment in his voice is clear.
“I think you can learn a lesson being there,” she says, her voice stern.
“On what? That hard work pays off and there's more to life than parties and booze?” He scoffs, knowing it will push her buttons just right.
“Yes, exactly. And the fresh air will do you good,” she says, annoyed, and Harry can hear her sigh. “Look, Harry. Your behavior has been unacceptable and you need some time to yourself, away from your so called friends and-”
“They are my friends mum, whether you like them or not,” he interrupts, annoyed himself.
“Friends don't do what they've done to you, and you know it. You're just too stubborn to admit, and we're not having this conversation for the millionth time,” she says, and the line is silent after that. Harry's lips are a fine line as he presses them together.
“I have to go, mum. I have to help aunt Jenny fix dinner,” he finally says. He's always the first one to break down when it comes to arguments with his mother, and he hates it. It makes him feel weak.
“Yeah, go ahead. Help them around as much as you can, will you?” She says, and Harry is annoyed by her strict tone.
“Bye, mum. Enjoy your month away from me,” he says and hangs up, not waiting for a response.
He takes a deep breath and starts undressing, throwing the clothes in the hamper on the corner of the small bathroom.
His relationship with his mother has been strained, at best. He has the impression she disapproves of everything he does and all the choices he makes. And she is the one to blame for that, because she raised her children to make their own choices and be their own person. Harry is jealous of Gemma being old enough to move out.
The straw that broke her back was the fact that Harry hadn't managed to get into the school he wanted. His grades had always been average, and his mother had always nagged him for his laziness, because there was no question he was smart. He just didn't bother studying, and now it came back to bite him in the ass.
He can't understand how his mother doesn't see that he is the most upset for not entering university. He doesn't need her lectures, doesn't need her disapproving looks. He knows he fucked up, he doesn't need to be constantly reminded of it. And that took a toll in his relationship to his mother. To the point of sending him away, apparently.
With a shake of his head he pushes his thoughts away and focuses on getting clean. Not twenty minutes later and he comes out of the bathroom fully dressed, a trail of steam following him. He goes to his room and puts on socks and a pair of trainers. He carefully arranges the shoes he's brought along the wall – all six pairs of them – and heads to the kitchen.
He hears voices as he comes down the stairs, male voices.
He slows down and peeks inside the kitchen, trying to get a good look before anybody sees him.
There is a man sitting at the table, in his mid-forties. He has dark brown hair that is thinning at the sides and striking blue eyes. His boots have caked mud on the sides, and Harry wonders how the house is still clean.
He can see who can only be Niall next to Jennifer at the kitchen counter, his back to him. Harry sees he has short, blonde-dyed hair, flat on his head. He's wearing jeans that have dirt stains on them and a shirt that doesn't look any better. When he turns around Harry sees he has the same blue eyes as his father, but a softer expression.
The boy smiles and Harry catches a glimpse of crooked teeth. Harry is watching him move about the kitchen, talking with an extremely thick Irish accent. Harry thinks he's the one with the accent, really, being the foreigner and all.
He's frozen in place when Niall spots him and gives him a huge smile that completely changes his face.
“Seems like our guest is here,” he says and all eyes are suddenly on him.
Harry blushes, caught snooping like a total creep.
“Harry, come meet the boys,” Jenny says, drying her hands on a kitchen rag. “This is Brian,” she says, and the man gets up with a friendly smile.
“It's very nice to meet ya, Harry,” he says, and Harry has to make a conscious effort not to flinch when he shakes his hand, his fingers squeezed inside the man's strong hands.
“Nice to meet you, too, Brian. Thank you for having me in your home, I promise I'll pull my weight around here.”
“Glad to hear that. I've heard so much about ya and yer family, it's nice to finally be able to meet ya,” he says and finally lets go of Harry's hand. He opens and closes it slowly, looking at Niall. “And this is my boy Niall.”
“Hi, mate,” Niall says with a smile and goes for a handshake as well. Harry's hand won't be of much use for him if he keeps meeting the men in this family.
“Hello,” Harry simply says, but smiles gently. The boy nods and steps back.
“Dinner is almost ready, you can sit down if you'd like,” Jennifer says, and Harry sits down and listens to the two men chat about the day. They use words he doesn't understand and Brian mumbles a bit, so Harry doesn't catch all that he says.
He looks at Jennifer and she smiles back at him. He wonders if she knows why he's really there. Because part of him knows he deserves it. Part of him knows his mother is doing the right thing. But part of him also resents her for it.
Dinner is ready soon enough, and Harry is about to scoop a spoonfull of mashed potatoes when a hand reaches for his. He looks to the side to find his aunt Jenny looking up at him with an extended hand. A quick glance around the table shows that everybody is holding hands except him. He quickly grabs her hand and Niall's as well. The grip is soft this time.
“Would you like to say prayers tonight, Niall?” Brian asks and he nods. They all lower their heads and Harry copies them.
“We want to thank you, Heavenly Father, for providing us with food and shelter, and for bringing home a friend,” Harry feels Niall squeeze his hand, “and for giving us health to work and bring food to the table. Amen.”
“Amen,” Harry repeats with them.
Harry is surprised to see the food actually tastes good. In all these years, he'd never seen his aunt Jenny cook. He thought she didn't know how, but apparently she does, now.
Harry doesn't talk much, just answer the questions that are directed to him. Brian asks him different questions than Jenny did, questions about his school work and hobbies, and he can sense Niall watching him the whole time. He doesn't say much, either, too busy eating like no one's Harry ever seen eat before. He assumes is the straining manual labor he probably has to do.
“I'm gonna go wash up before bed,” Brian says, stretching and putting his plate on the sink. Niall gets up, too.
“Do you need to use the loo, Harry?” He asks, and Harry shakes his head. “Great, I'm off, too,” he says and is gone with a grin.
“I'll help you with the dishes,” Harry says and moves towards the sink.
“No need to, love. It's just a couple of plates, don't worry. You go upstairs and rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“You're tired from the flight. You can help me with the dishes tomorrow,” she insists and Harry goes upstairs.
He can hear the faint noise of the shower running when he walks past it. He goes into his bedroom and starts to organize his things in his desk. He puts his phone, tablet, Ipod and Kindle on it, along with all the chargers. He sits on the bed and looks outside. It's completely dark, and the landscape is barely visible because there's no moon tonight. Harry can see just a sliver of it, but when he pays attention, he realises he sees a lot more stars than he's used to seeing in the London sky.
He twists his body and moves it half way out the window, facing up. He's so lost in thought that he doesn't hear when Niall knocks on the open door.
“Beautiful sky, innit?” He asks, and Harry is startled. He swings back forward and faces Niall. His wet hair in flat on his forehead and he can smell him from where he's standing on the other side of the room, clean and warm.
“Yeah, I don't usually see that many stars back home.”
“You should go to the more rural areas of the country, you can see more than you can count.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. Niall chuckles.
“Yeah, there are more rural areas than this,” he says and walks in. “I'm happy that you're here, it's going to be good to have a friend over this summer.”
“I'm only staying for a month, though,” Harry says, not sure what to think when Niall used the word friend to talk about him.
“It's good enough,” Niall says and Harry wonders if he ever stops smiling. “I'll let you rest now, Jenny told me you'd be tired from the trip and all,” he says and steps back. “Good night, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait, before you go, what's the wi-fi password?” Harry says, reaching for his phone.
“Oh, we don't have internet here at home,” Niall says, and Harry's jaw drop.
“What do you mean you don't have internet?” He says, feeling a drop of panic make its way up his spine.
“Yeah, you can go to the library if you need it to do something,” Niall seems oblivious to the fact that Harry's whole world collapsed.
“O-Ok. Thanks, anyway,” he manages a fake smile and Niall nods.
“See you tomorrow, mate,” he says and he's gone, closing the door behind him.
“Shit,” Harry mumbles under his breath. What on earth is he going to do for a whole month? How is he going to talk to his friends back home? His data plan won't last long, and he groans with frustration.
He sends a quick message to his friends' group chat explaining why he won't be active much and types a message to his sister.
they don't have internet gemma. what am i going to do??
Her reply comes within seconds.
You'll survive. Told you not to be a dickhead to mum. How's aunt Jenny? How are Brian and Niall?
theyre fine, we didnt talk much.
I'll call you tomorrow, try not to be bored out of your mind until then. Love you
Harry sighs and throws himself on the bed. He glances at his phone and sees it's almost nine o'clock. He hears a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Jenny opens the door and he greets her with a smile.
“Came to wish you goodnight before bed,” she explains and he sits up on the bed, making room for her to sit next to him. “Do you have enough blankets and pillows? For your back?”
“It's all fine, thanks,” he smiles and she looks at him fondly. Her expression slowly changes and a crease appears on her forehead.
“You know, your mum told me about what happened,” she starts and he looks down, avoiding her gaze.
“It was no big deal, mum blew that way out of proportion,” he defends himself.
“You were detained, Harry. For trespassing. It is a big deal.”
“We were pulling a prank, okay? Did she tell you that?” He says, and tries his best to keep his voice low.
“She did, and she also told me that your friends left you behind to be caught alone.”
He bites his lip.
“I was stupid and slow, they didn't mean to do it.”
Harry feels her hand on his shoulders. He leans in and she circles him with her arms.
“I shouldn't have brought it up now, not when you've barely stepped foot in my house. I just wanted you to know that I know. That your mother talked to me about how things are...difficult between you and her.”
“At least we talked about the elephant in the room,” he says and he can feel her smile against the top of his head.
“We did, and we can talk about anything else you'd like to tell me.”
“You sound just like my mum,” he says and she laughs.
“Well, we are best friends for a reason. Great minds think alike.”
Harry pulls away with a smile.
“I'll let you rest, honey. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I'm sure Niall will talk your ear off.”
“He seems nice. Friendly.” Harry admits.
“He is. He has the kindest heart, just like his father. Just like you,” she says and cups his face between her hands. Harry smiles softly.
“Call me if you need anything, I'm right down the hall,” she says and gets up. “Sleep well, Harry.”
“You too, aunt Jenny.”
She leaves, closing the door behind herself and he gets changed, putting on the only pair of pajamas he owns. He won't be sleeping naked like at home, at least not so soon. He slips under the blankets, positioning himself comfortably on the small, single bed. The sheets smell of laundry detergent and the strange pillow is soft and cool.
The room is dark and everything is eerily silent. Harry can't hear anything besides his own heart and breathing. There's no car honk or alarm blaring outside his window, no traffic, no passerby speaking loudly. He doesn't know how people sleep like this, in complete silent. He thinks it's going to take forever for him to fall asleep, but his aunt was right and he is tired.
For the first time in at least five years, Harry falls asleep before ten o'clock.