When Hate Turns To Love

Harry Styles is a 16-year-old Jew. He lives with his mother, Anne, and they've managed to hide from the Nazis for quite a while. But, one night, while Harry is asleep in a little side closet, a group of German soldiers come in and steal his mum away. Heartbroken, Harry packs up his few belongings and heads to Auschwitz, hoping that he'll be able to save her.

Louis Tomlinson is an 18-year-old Nazi, and he sees Jews as the scum of the earth. He's doing night patrol when he sees a curly haired boy speaking with a Jewish woman through the fence. Disgusted, he drags the Jew back to his house, planning to use him as his personal slave. But, when his friends bring over another Jew, mistreating both young boys, Louis feels protective, jealous, and guilty. What will happen when Louis' hate for Harry turns to love? Will They be able to hide it long enough to go to America? Or will it all end on a battlefield?

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3. Chapter 3

*Harry*

 

Pain, hurt, and fatigue. That's what makes up my world right now. My feet ache, my throat and stomach burn, and my head pounds, blurring my vision. I barely have the energy to keep my feet moving, but I struggle against my limits, knowing I can't stop now. I can see the gates of Auschwitz from here, up on this little hill. I've lost track of the days that I've been in the wilderness. It's at least four, but can't be more than six. So, that's at least four days that my mum has been in Auschwitz.

 

"It's right there, Harry," I mumble to myself. "Just a couple of miles more."

 

I start to stumble down the hill, suddenly tripping and falling, ending up rolling into a patch of soft flowers at the bottom. I try to get up, but I'm just so comfortable, so needing sleep, that resistance is futile. I collapse, using my pack as a pillow, and drift off into sleep...

 

I peek around the trunk of another tree, furrowing my eyebrows when I see he isn't there. I am honestly confused. He is horrible at hide-and-seek. But, I can't seem to find the rascal. After I walk around the little grove for a few more minutes, I find him.

 

"Ah," I mutter, looking at the beautiful man standing in a ray of light.

 

His hair is a gorgeous shade of brown, and it gleams in the sun, just like his perfect smile. His blue eyes glitter as he takes in the beauty of the place surrounding him. A light stubble dusts his jaw, accenting his cheekbones marvelously. His loving eyes come to rest on mine, and his smile shines bright.

 

"Harry!"

 

His voice flows out like honey, greatly differing from my low, slow speech. He runs, throwing himself into my arms, his legs wrapping around my waist. I spin a little, set off balance, and he laughs gleefully.

 

"I thought that I was going to have to come find you!," he exclaims, his fringe brushing my face and making me shiver.

 

"The point of hiding is to stay hidden, babe," I tell him, my voice husky and slower than normal.

 

He giggles, gazing into my eyes, a contrast of blue on green. He licks his lips, slowly leaning in, and I find myself doing the same. Just as our lips are about to touch, just as I can feel his breath blowing against my face, everything blacks out.

 

My eyes snap open, and I'm met with a tulip to the face. I yawn loudly while stretching, breathing deeply through my nose. Which isn't such a smart decision. I stand up as I rapidly start sneezing, my system trying to rid itself of the dust particles brought in through my nostrils. After sneezing for a few minutes, I look at the flowers that made my bed earlier. It's a patch of blue and green tulips, and about half of the are crushed. My stomach rumbles loudly, but I ignore it, sitting on the crushed flowers. I begin picking the tulips with the longest stems, weaving them into a crown.

 

When I was little, my mum would always weave a crown of roses from her garden, situating it amongst my curls before sending me to school. One day, when I asked her why, she explained that I was her little prince, and it was her way to show the world that she loved me.

 

"There. Love you, Mum," I whisper, putting the crown at an angle on my head.

 

I sit in the same spot for about an hour, watching the moon rise, before beginning the two mile trek to Auschwitz. I hum a small song as I go along, trying to keep myself motivated. As I near the gates, I see a small huddle of women, situated around a pump of some sort. They are drinking a dark liquid out of harshly carved wooden cups, and a few of them hit the ground as I approach.

 

"Excuse me, ladies," I say, laying my hands flat against the fence. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but have you met a woman by the name of Anne Cox?"

 

Their mouths fall open and all but one of them run off, laughing joyously. The remaining woman walks towards me, her eyes taking in my lanky figure, and the flowers in my curls.

 

"Are you really her son? The one she talks about?," she asks me, hope in her eyes.

 

I nod, and a tear slips down her cheek as she smiles.

 

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!"

 

She races off in the same direction as the other ladies, and I'm left standing alone. I allow my eyes to take in the parts of the camp that I can see. There are just a few buildings, and all of them seem to be guarded. Large watch towers stand at every corner, but the guns in the are unattended right now. After standing like this for a few minutes, I see the group of women running towards me, one moving faster than the rest. When they reach the fence, the faster one stands in front of me, her soft hands slipping over my own through the chain links.

 

"Harry! My baby!," she cries, small tears leaking out of her eyes as she smiles.

 

"Mum! Are you okay? Did they hurt you? How can I get you out?"

 

She just shakes her head, a small laugh falling from her lips.

 

"I'm fine. But, I just got better seeing you. You're wearing a crown," she says fondly. "You can't get me out, Harold. Just know that I love you. Now get out of here before-"

 

"Hey! You there!"

 

*Louis*

 

I sit at my post, extremely bored, watching as a gaggle of women crowd around the fence. They seem to be talking to someone, but I know it can't be possible. At least, until I see a tall figure shift outside the fence. I furrow my eyebrows, making a wandering rookie watch my post as I go to investigate. I jog outside the gate, making it about ten yards from the figure before alerting them to my presence.

 

"Hey! You there!," I yell, advancing quickly.

 

The women trip over each other, running inside their barracks. The figure, which I can now tell is a boy, scrambles away from me, but I grab his collar and slam him against the fence. I glance at the left side of his shirt, and I see a small, yellow star of David. I make a disgusted face, pressing his back further into the fence. He trembles, his lower lip quivering as move my hand to his shoulder.

 

"Please, please don't hurt me," he begs, his words falling slowly and deeply from his lips.

 

His voice makes my head snap up, my eyes finding his vibrant green ones. A quick glance up reveals a crown of blue and green tulips resting on chocolate curls, and I instantly know who he is. The boy from my dreams exists, and he's a Jew.

 

"Shut up," I snap at him, dragging him with me as I walk into the camp.

 

As I pass Zayn I motion for him to follow, and he puts another soldier in his place. When he reaches us, he doesn't question it, just grabs the boy's other arm and helps me haul him into General Burks' office.

 

"Oh, Tomlinson! Malik! What do we have here?"

 

I shove the curly-haired boy into a chair, and smack him across the face to get his wimpering to cease.

 

"This Jew was outside the camp, speaking with a few women near the pump," I tell him. "I assume he was trying to break someone out."

 

General Burks nods, walking over and grabbing a piece of paper. He sets it in front of the boy before walking over to me.

 

"Congratulations, Tomlinson. You just acquired a personal slave. Just fill out that sheet and take him home with you."

 

"But why isn't he going to the barracks?"

 

"Too many Jews in them. No room," he says, shutting the door.

 

Zayn looks at me, before pointedly looking at the paper. I sigh, grabbing a pen and beginning to fill it out.

 

"W-what are you g-going to do t-to me?," the Jew whispers, fear flashing through his eyes.

 

I briefly look up from my paper as I answer him.

 

"That is for me to know. Zayn, could you go tell Burks I'm taking a leave?," I say, and Zayn nods, slipping out. "C'mon. Let's go."

 

The Jew gets up, sniffling softly. I push him in front of me as we walk through the camp, observing him. His shoes are tattered and his clothes are in the same condition. His curls are limp, and some cling to the flowers atop his head.

 

"Harry! My baby! No!"

 

My head snaps towards a woman struggling to free herself from the grip of some men. Tears roll down her face as she watches me lead her son out of the camp. The boy, Harry, whips around, about to run before I wrap my arms around him to keep him from getting to her.

 

"Mum! Mum, I love you!," he sobs, struggling hard against my grip. "Don't let him take me!"

 

The men manage to get the woman into her barrack, and Harry goes limp, heartbroken sobs falling from his lips. I feel a ping of sympathy, but push it away, disgusted with myself. Pulling him up from the ground, I lead him to a truck, throwing him in the passenger side and getting into the driver's seat myself. I pull onto the road, heading on the long journey to my home, a sobbing Jew beside me.

 

(It took me a few hours to get this done. I hope you like it. Please leave feed back!)

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