"That's very strange," Taylor laughs as she sets the groceries on the table of the chateau's dining room. Harry laughs with her as he finishes his explanation of his interaction with Zair.

"He was weird, but in a good way. I think it helped to just... I don't know vent I guess," Harry sighs. He catches Taylor's gaze from across the table. She gives him a supportive smile as she takes a couple of potatoes out of the bags.

"That's good, it's good to get things off your chest sometimes. I'm glad you had the chance," Taylor replies. Harry nods as he finishes taking the last bit of groceries out of the bags. The assortment is an unusual one and Harry couldn't even be certain what half of the things on the table were, but Taylor can barely contain her smile.

"I'm going to make kartoffelpuffer! I make it every time I get homesick. It'll be about 30 minutes is all," She explains as she begins carrying the potatoes to the marble counters of the kitchen. Harry has no clue what kartoffelpuffer is, but Taylor seemed too excited about making the dish for Harry to ask any questions.

Harry turns away from the kitchen as a song in a different language begins to pour from Taylor's phone. The authentic hardwood floors creak under his feet as he abandons the kitchen and wanders the home. The smell of fresh bread and a flower Harry doesn't know the name of fills the entryway of the closest thing to a home Harry has.

Most of the memories that Harry has of this house are happy ones. Of course, almost all of Harry's memories are tainted by his father in some way. Here, however, he can only seem to recall the good ones. Sun cutting through his mother's hair as she swings Harry outside. Grass stains on the knees of his jeans as Gemma and him roll down the hill laughing. A cook sneaking him a bite of something chocolate before dinner.

It doesn't surprise Harry that he finds himself in the den. Whenever his mind starts to drift his feet take him to the place of the home he's always been happiest. The room hasn't changed much over the course of Harry's lifetime. The floors are a dark wood that Harry never bothered finding the names of and the walls are covered in a white wallpaper with tiny golden details. A brass framed mirror hangs over an aging fireplace. His father always hated the mirror for some reason. Harry was too young to questions his father at that point, but he imagines now that his father probably wanted a TV in its place.

The prize of the room, however, is the grand piano. Unlike the one in his apartment back home, this one is white with beautiful golden detailing around the sides with swirls and spirals that one could get lost in. The top of the piano is open to reveal the strings and levers on the inside. Two children, a boy and a girl dance along the sides of the wood, carved in gold and brown details. When he was a kid, he thought that his mother had the piano made for Gemma and him. He knows now that the instrument is older than that.

As he shifts to sit on the red cushioned bench, a memory begins to form. Disorganized and jumbled music comes from the instrument. He sees his mother on the bench with his sister on her lap. The yellow and light blue floral dress that Harry's mother wears hangs over the sides of the bench, just long enough for Harry to grab ahold of. He doesn't know what his mother and sister do, but he wants to be a part of it.

He can be a part of it now, he decides. Confidentially, he brings his hands to the keys and begins playing various ones. The theory of music is lost on him and he doesn't know how to make the notes work together to make something beautiful, but he knows how to play them and that's enough.

The familiar feeling of disappearing into the keys falls over him again as the notes of the piano grow louder around him. The louder he plays the more lost he gets. If Harry focuses he can hear a ringing in his ear from the sound of the keys, but he doesn't care.

Niall's face, biting back tears appears in Harry's head. Admittedly, Harry has never seen Niall cry before, not angry or sad tears anyway. Being a kid and making his friend laugh so hard tears start to form, sure. He never wants to see Niall like that again. He tries to remember what Niall was talking about, those times where Harry may have put Louis first.

"Can you guys quiet down some? I'm trying to study."

Louis crosses his arms as he says, "Can you guys quiet down some? I'm trying to study," in an over-Americanized accent.

"So you know how the Halloween party is coming up and we have to have costumes and everything.... I was thinking that we could go as Willy Wonka and the Once Ler."

"I'm the Once Ler. You said we were going to go as the Once Ler and willy Wonka... you know from Tiktok."

Harry thought that Niall was projecting his own insecurities onto Harry, but maybe not. Maybe Harry was being shitty. Maybe he got lost in Louis and his own life and made Niall feel like shit from time to time. Obviously, he didn't mean it, why would he want his best friend to be hurt?

A waterfall of guilt begins to spread in Harry's chest as he reflects on his actions lately. Maybe he should've carved out more time for Niall or asked how he was going. Admittedly, he knew something was going on. The purple under Niall's eyes and the sudden desperation for quiet study time was unlike his friend. He should've known that something else was going on.

"Well," A voice starts. It startles Harry out of his thoughts and he's suddenly brought back to reality. Taylor stands in the doorway of the den with her arms crossing her chest. "You're not Beethoven," She giggles.

Harry reaches up to run a hand through his hair in hopes to hide from the embarrassment of getting caught playing horribly. He forgot that Taylor was here and how shitty he still is at playing.

"Sorry, I know I suck at it," Harry sighs. Taylor shakes her head as she walks over and takes the spot next to Harry on the bench. Harry watches in awe as Taylor lifts her hands and places them gently on the keys.

She begins to play a tune that Harry knows in a distant way. He's heard the melody before but it's been a long time. Green eyes watch in longing as Taylor's fingers stretch across the ivory keys to produce beautiful music.

"I used to play for my parents all the time," Taylor explains as she continues playing the song. Her voice is just loud enough to hear over the gentle stream of music. Unlike Harry, Taylor doesn't play with desperation. She and the piano seem to be old friends. They have a mutual understanding of one another that Harry admires.

The ending of the song seems to come too soon and in a way that seemed to sneak up on Harry. There was no grand ending or abrupt stop to the flow of music, but a gentle goodbye that disappeared into the air.

"Well... dinner's ready."