Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1029077.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hetalia:_Axis_Powers
  Relationship:
      America_(Hetalia)_&_England_(Hetalia)
  Character:
      America_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), England_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), Nyotalia
      Canada_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), France_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), Prussia_
      (Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), Spain_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers)
  Additional Tags:
      Pottertalia, bad_friends_trio, Hogwarts, Quidditch
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-02 Chapters: 17/17 Words: 75010
****** Quidditch House Rules ******
by Zeplerfer
Summary
     Alfred F. Jones will do whatever it takes to become the best
     Quidditch player at Hogwarts. Even if it means joining Slytherin and
     going broom-to-broom with the Gryffindor seeker, Arthur Kirkland.
     Flipped Houses!USUK.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** The Sorting Hat *****
Alfred F. Jones was going places. In a physical sense, he was on the Hogwarts
Express, prepared to start his 6th year of magical studies. In a metaphorical
sense, he was on his way to achieving his life-long ambition of becoming a
world-renowned Quidditch player.
He had studied the Hogwarts Quidditch teams very carefully over the past year,
reading every story he could find about the different teams and games.
Unfortunately, the school didn't allow photographs (since all of the players
were minors), nor did they allow video, but Alfred could piece together a lot
of information just from reading news articles. The Ravenclaw team had some
decent chasers and Hufflepuff had the best keeper, but Gryffindor was the best
overall team. Most importantly, they had the best seeker: Arthur Kirkland, now
starting his seventh year, had led his team to Quidditch Cup victory for three
years in a row.
Alfred could probably win a spot on the Gryffindor team, but he knew he
wouldn't be able to replace Kirkland as seeker and he wasn't willing to sit on
the sidelines for a whole year. Alfred was never one to take no for an answer.
He decided that since he couldn't join him, he'd have to beat him. Slytherin
had an excellent group of chasers and beaters, but a terrible seeker. Alfred
could take the team to victory as its new seeker, and then he would definitely
secure a professional Quidditch position when the scouts came to watch the cup
match at Hogwarts. Nothing packed the seats like a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor
match.
Ever since his parents gave him his first broomstick at age five, Alfred had
dreamed of becoming a professional Quidditch player. As soon as he began his
first year at the Salem Institute of Magic he joined the school team, quickly
earning the coveted position of seeker (it hadn't been hard, since most
American students preferred Quodpot). But Alfred knew that his best odds for
joining a professional team required playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, so he
begged and pleaded with his parents to let him transfer.
The first four years, they said no. He was still too young and his grades
weren't good enough.
The fifth year, they finally relented and said he could transfer, but only if
he scored an Outstanding on at least five OWLs.
To their great surprise, Alfred met that goal.
So the sixth year, with much hugging and kissing, they said goodbye to their
son at the King's Cross train station and wished him good luck during the
school year. Alfred grabbed his bags, promised to write often, and waved a
cheerful goodbye.
A little too late, Alfred realized that if he wanted an empty compartment, he
should have arrived earlier. As the train wound its way through the countryside
just north of London, he found himself walking past each compartment, finding
that most were completely full or occupied by younger students.
Finally, he spotted one with only two students. They both had their noses
buried in a book, but at least they looked to be his age or older. Based on
school colors, he could tell that the dark-haired Asian student was in
Ravenclaw and the sandy blond one was in Gryffindor. Alfred opened the door and
smiled widely. "Got room for one more?"
The Ravenclaw student looked up from his book and nodded.
Alfred beamed and stored his luggage on the racks above the seats. He plopped
down next to the dark-haired student and spent a few minutes gazing out the
window as the English countryside flashed past. He grew bored after a few
minutes, and leaned over to see what the Asian boy was reading so intently. The
student slammed his book closed and pulled away.
"Kiku doesn't like it when people invade his personal space," the Gryffindor
sitting across from them explained, his eyes briefly flickering up before
returning to his book.
"Sorry, dude." Alfred grinned apologetically and scooched to the edge of the
seat to give Kiku more space. Kiku nodded in thanks. Alfred realized he had
forgotten introductions.
"My name's Alfred, by the way."
"Arthur," the Gryffindor crisply replied as he finally looked up to face
Alfred. Because of the way he hunched over to read, Arthur's bangs had covered
most of his forehead, hiding the fact that he had humungous eyebrows. Now they
were blindingly obvious and Alfred couldn't stop staring. He had never seen
such monstrous eyebrows before in his life. It was like caterpillars were
devouring the poor boy's forehead.
"Dude, do you need help removing that jinx?" Alfred exclaimed. Arthur was just
a stranger, but it would be cruel to let anyone walk into Hogwarts with those
eyebrows. Someone was clearly playing a cruel prank on the other boy.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What jinx?"
"Your eyebrows! They're jinxed... aren't they?"
The Gryffindor flushed and then glared. "There's nothing wrong with my
eyebrows!" he replied hotly, his face a mask of embarrassment and irritation.
"Seriously?" Alfred stared in disbelief. He found it hard to believe that giant
eyebrows could be the work of anything other than magic. The idea of large
eyebrows tugged at his memory from something he'd seen in the Quidditch
articles, but it had been only a passing reference, and he couldn't quite
remember what it had said. He pulled himself back to the present just in time
to hear the sputtering denial from the other blond student.
"Yes! They're perfectly normal. Now kindly shut up and stop being such a prat."
"Oh, okay," Alfred replied, since he didn't want to get kicked out of the
compartment. He patted his pockets and pulled out a packet of Skittles, then
opened the package noisily and started munching the rainbow-colored candies. He
watched the countryside for a few more minutes, but it hadn't changed much in
the past few minutes. Yep, England was still really green. After another few
minutes, he broke the silence.
"Hey, what's a prat?"
"You are," Arthur retorted.
"Well, if I'm a prat, then why do you have the little badge with a 'P' on it?"
Arthur looked at Alfred like he was an idiot. "This is a prefect badge," he
explained slowly. "It means that I monitor student behavior. I can even deduct
points."
"So… basically you're a teacher's pet?"
Arthur returned to his book and refused to dignify the comment with a response.
Recognizing that he wasn't going to be able to draw Arthur and Kiku into a
conversation, Alfred pulled his Nintendo DS out of his luggage. If nothing
else, at least he could finish a few more puzzles in Professor Layton. He spent
minutes poring over one of the puzzles, completely unable to finish it. He
looked up in surprise when Kiku tapped the screen.
"Huh? Wanna give it a try?" Alfred asked. He handed over the video game. Within
seconds, Kiku beat the puzzle. Alfred watched in amazement as Kiku blazed his
way through the game. He'd never heard of a Professor Layton speed run, but if
there was one, this boy would definitely set the record.
The only problem was that Alfred was bored again and now he didn't have a video
game for entertainment. He turned to look at Arthur and caught the Gryffindor
boy staring at him from over the top of his book. Arthur's eyes quickly
flickered back to his book and he pretended that he hadn't been caught staring.
Alfred smiled and shifted seats so that he was sitting next to Arthur. He
leaned over to read the book. It looked like the potions textbook he had used
last year.
"So, you're a fifth year, huh?" Alfred asked.
Arthur frowned. "No."
"But that's a fifth year book."
Kiku tapped the wall to catch Alfred's attention. He held up seven fingers then
gestured to himself and Arthur.
Alfred frowned as he tried to reason why a seventh year would use a fifth year
book. Suddenly, he realized the answer and laughed. "Dude! You've had to repeat
the class… twice! You're officially the worst teacher's pet ever."
"God, you're such a prat," Arthur grumbled.
"But I still don't know what the means!"
"That doesn't make you less of one."
"Want any help?"
"No."
After a bit of pressuring and a reminder that Alfred had not only passed the
class, but had even received an 'O' on his Potions OWL, Arthur gave in. They
placed the book between them and covered the main potions. Alfred scribbled
notes in the margins, pointing out places where you had to add an extra step to
get the best result or ignore part of the instructions. It turned out that
Arthur was a little too meticulous in following the text, ignoring warning
signs like a bubbling pot because he believed following the text was the only
correct approach. They happily passed an hour with their heads leaned together
over the book. Alfred couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun
studying. Arthur was a quick learner (and kinda cute), he just needed a nudge
in the right direction.
They both glanced up when Kiku began rummaging in his luggage. Kiku pulled out
his own Prefect badge and arched an eyebrow at Arthur.
"Kiku and I are in charge of patrolling the train corridors for the next hour,"
Arthur explained with a touch of reject as he pulled on his robes and carefully
stored his wand in his pocket. Alfred accepted the return of his video game
console and waved goodbye. It was a long ride to Hogwarts, so they'd have more
time to chat later.
Alfred returned to his last saved game and spent another half hour
metaphorically banging his head against logic puzzles. He really needed to
figure out Kiku's secret. Maybe it came from spending more time thinking and
less time talking. About ready to give up on the game for the day, Alfred
paused and looked up when he heard whispers outside the door.
"Yes, I'm sure this is the right compartment!" one voice whispered loudly.
Another voice replied, too quietly for Alfred to hear.
Alfred looked up at the door, not quite sure what to expect. As it opened, he
saw three Slytherin students: an albino, a brunet, and a blond. He wondered if
they sometimes walked into bars in order to set up the punch line for a joke.
They were tall and handsome and their cocky grins and confident stride told the
world that they were ready for mischief.
"Mmm, looks like we have some fresh meat," the blond purred with a French
accent
"Kesesese, I think we should have some fun," added the albino.
"Si, I love fun!" the brunet cheerfully agreed.
Alfred gaped at the three Slytherin students as they took the empty seats. The
albino and the dark-haired student sat together, while the Frenchman sat down
next to Alfred and casually slung his arm across Alfred's shoulders. Alfred
probably wouldn't have noticed it if he had met them one at a time, but taken
together, he could easily identify the trio.
"Wow, you're on the Slytherin Quidditch team!" Alfred gushed. "Oh man, it's so
cool to meet you guys. That was an awesome game you played last spring against
Ravenclaw. It's pretty awesome to see a team win the game without catching the
snitch."
The three shared a look. If Alfred was more perceptive, he would have realized
that he had suddenly been reclassified from "prey" to "potential ally."
The albino grinned. "Finally, someone that recognizes my awesomeness!"
They introduced themselves as Francis, Antonio, and the awesome Gilbert and
proceeded to brag about their Quidditch prowess and all of their glorious
antics terrorizing Hogwarts. For the first time in centuries, their house had
succeeding in accumulating more than a thousand negative points in the
competition for the House Cup. They hadn't had a prefect in years because no
one qualified. Alfred was impressed. He lost track of time and didn't realize
that an hour had passed until Arthur and Kiku returned.
Arthur glared furiously at the Slytherins. "What are you doing in my
compartment?" he growled dangerously.
"Hey Arthur, meet Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis!" Alfred introduced his new
friends.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I know who they are. They've spent the past six years
trying to make my life an absolute terror. And they have ten seconds to leave
or I will hex them so thoroughly that they won't be able to sit for the next
week."
The three stood up and casually exited the compartment. Francis winked, "Oh
Arthur, you know that if I had my way, you would be the one left unable to sit
on your adorable derriere." Arthur sputtered and pushed him out, showing a
surprising amount of strength for his lean, short body.
"Arthur, mon cher, it is always a pleasure!" Francis called as he stumbled out
of the train cabin.
"The feeling is completely one-sided, I assure you." Arthur tried to slam the
door shut, but Francis succeeded in wedging his foot into the gap.
Francis peeked in. "Alfred, you're welcome to come join us, if you'd like."
Alfred glanced between the two, torn between his desire to get to know the
other Slytherin Quidditch team members and the powerful desire to continue
tutoring Arthur in potions. But he knew that only one of those options would
help him become a great Quidditch player. He stood up and grabbed his luggage.
Arthur frowned. "Let me give you a bit of advice: your life will be much easier
if you stay away from those three clowns."
"I like them. But hey, it was nice to meet you two! Hopefully I'll see you
again later."
"Don't count on it. I'm sure you'll be very happy with your new friends,"
Arthur said as he crossed his arms across his chest and scowled.
Alfred smiled apologetically and trailed behind Francis. He heard the door slam
shut behind them.
===============================================================================
Arthur stared at the empty seat, trying to not feel upset that the younger
blond student had so blatantly rejected him in favor of his arch-rivals. Alfred
was attractive, friendly, and surprisingly good at potions. Arthur didn't
understand why the boy would want to associate with Slytherin pranksters. And
for the life of him, he didn't know how Francis had managed to hook his claws
into the lad so quickly.
Arthur contemplated returning to his study of potions, but decided to take a
break for lunch. He ate his delicious sandwich as he gazed out the window. Kiku
resumed reading a book on the other seat, perfectly content to keep the
silence. It was one of the reasons he liked spending time with Kiku.
Gentle hills and rivers rolled past as Arthur leaned his forehead against the
window. He resolved to push Alfred out of his head with a bit of studying. He
reached for his potions book, but his hands met only thin air. Arthur glanced
under the seat to see if his book had fallen on the floor.
Arthur pulled out his wand and cast a summoning charm.
He frowned when the book still didn't appear.
His frown turned to a glare as he realized that the book wasn't appearing
because it had been stolen. And he knew who stole it. Arthur stalked out of his
compartment and followed the sound of annoying French laughter to his goal.
Arthur pushed opened the door. "Give it back!" he demanded.
"Oh? You want what back, mon cher?" Francis smirked and tightened his arm
around Alfred's shoulders, claiming his newest possession.
Arthur glared, refusing to be baited. "You are going to return my potions
textbook this minute or I swear I will find a way to have you all kicked off
your Quidditch team."
"If you need a book, I think I still have my fifth-year potions book around
somewhere," Antonio suggested helpfully.
"Your potions book was a bunch of tomato recipes," Gilbert corrected.
"Por supuesto! Who needs potions when you have tomatoes?"
"Kesesese, mine was awesome beer recipes!"
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Would you care to join us?" Francis asked. He pulled to the edge of the seat
and gestured at the small gap between him and Alfred.
Alfred gave Arthur his most welcoming smile and patted the seat. He wanted
nothing better than to talk with his future teammates, but it had been fun
spending time with Arthur too. It would be better if they got along. Alfred
honestly didn't understand why Hogwarts students put so much emphasis on the
house system. The Salem Institute didn't bother with that nonsense.
Francis winked. "Ménage à trois means that there's always room for one more,
mon lapin."
Arthur flushed red, turned on his heels, and walked away.
"Wait… Lupine? He's a werewolf?" Alfred asked.
Francis chuckled. "Non, 'lapin' means rabbit." He explained how a mistake with
a polyjuice potion in their third-year had given Arthur rabbit ears for the
rest of the day. Francis sighed wistfully as he described Arthur's adorably
cute appearance. The French boy gave Alfred a sly look. "And if I'm not
mistaken, and I rarely am, I think our little rabbit is a bit taken with you."
Alfred laughed. "Why would you say that?"
Francis lifted up Arthur's textbook. "Because he left without his potions
book."
===============================================================================
Although they didn't make Alfred ride the boats with the first-years, he still
had to line up for sorting. Alfred felt a little silly walking up to the
Sorting Hat, since he was five years older and a good foot taller than any of
the other students being sorted. Some of the girls giggled as he sat down on
the too-short stool and placed the Hat on his head.
'I want to be in Slytherin!' Alfred told the Hat as soon as it touched his
hair. He'd read that students had some choice in the sorting, but they had to
think fast.
The Hat hesitated. 'Are you sure? Your bravery would be better placed in
Gryffindor.'
Alfred shook his head. 'I'm going to become a professional Quidditch player,
but I can only do that in Slytherin.'
He felt the Hat relax. 'Ah, ambition. A true Slytherin virtue.'
The Hat made its announcement, drawing a number of surprised stares. Alfred's
happy smile and loud whoop of joy drew even more shock. In the two decades
since the Second Wizarding War, Slytherin had suffered a huge loss of
reputation. Very few wanted to be associated with Voldemort's house or its
pure-blooded bigotry. Now, fewer than one in ten children joined that house.
Many Slytherins transferred to other schools to avoid the guilt by association.
The house had moved into a small tower, so that its former location under the
lake could be used to house the additional Gryffindor students, who gleefully
changed the greens to reds. No one sitting in the room had ever seen someone
debate with the Hat in order to get into Slytherin.
"Kesesese, join the awesome table!" Gilbert called.
As Alfred sat down, he could see Arthur glaring at him from across the room.
"Peter Kirkland… Gryffindor!" the Hat said as it resumed sorting. Arthur
shifted his glare from Alfred to the short blond running up to the Gryffindor
table. Alfred jerked his head when he heard the last name. Was Peter Kirkland
related to Arthur Kirkland? He saw the boy approach Arthur and the pieces
clicked together. He knew he had read about giant eyebrows somewhere! One of
the earlier articles briefly described Arthur's eyebrows but that person
mysteriously stopped writing Quidditch stories afterward and no one ever
mentioned them again.
He had met Arthur Kirkland. He had actually met Arthur Kirkland. Damn, he
should have asked for a signature. No, that would have been awkward. Still, it
explained why the Gryffindor boy didn't like his Slytherin rivals.
Even though they would be rivals on the Quidditch field, Alfred wasn't going to
let silly things like different houses stand between him and the Gryffindor
seeker. They could be rivals and still become friends, right? Alfred squared
his shoulders. He always loved a good challenge.
===============================================================================
After finishing his Prefect duties and successfully avoiding his annoying
cousin Peter, Arthur wearily climbed up the stairs to the Gryffindor dorm. He
prepared to say the password when he noticed a familiar book lying near the
wall.
Arthur cast a few spells to check for curses and suspiciously prodded his
potions book with his wand. Eventually, he shrugged and picked it up. Inside he
found a short note.
Hey Arthur,
I figured you might want your potions book back. They doodled a bit in the
margins, but it looks mostly okay. I've added a few more notes on some of the
trickier potions. If you ever want more tutoring, I'm happy to help!
AFJ
P.S. Always remember rabbit fur for your polyjuice potion:)
Arthur scowled and threw away the note. Of course it would turn out to be just
another joke at his expense. Arthur should have known that the young man's
handsome face hid a cruel mind. He carefully hid his disappointment as he
stepped into the Gryffindor lounge.
He walked past the loud group of gossiping students and climbed the staircase
to the seventh year's room. He was supposed to help the newly sorted Gryffindor
students settle in, but after his hectic day, Arthur was ready to let the
students muddle along on their own.
The room for seventh year students was blessedly quiet since his roommates were
still catching up with old friends down in the lounge. Arthur began to unpack
his belongings from their neatly folded position in a trunk next to his bed. He
set out clothes for tomorrow and books for his classes. Charms and potions. He
stared at the potions book and pondered whether he dared use any of the tips
from the American transfer student. He needed all of the help he could get, but
relying on a Slytherin could easily blow up in his face.
Arthur set aside the book and resolved to forget about the Slytherin student.
Sure, the young man had a pretty face, but it almost certainly hid a devious
mind. Arthur resolved that he was not going to make the same mistake twice.
Little did he realize... ignoring Alfred would be much more difficult than he
expected.
***** The First Match *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred meets a new friend and has his first match with Arthur.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Alfred was so excited for his first class at Hogwarts that he actually managed
to arrive early. He walked into the half-empty classroom and grinned when he
spotted Arthur. The American made a beeline for the English boy's desk. He
wanted the chance to sit next to Arthur for an entire class now that he knew
Arthur was actually Arthur Kirkland, the kickass Quidditch seeker. Alfred could
talk about Quidditch for hours... and often did.
"Hey Arthur, how's it going?" Alfred asked as he set down his books on the
empty side of the table. He reached for the seat, not expecting Arthur to
object.
The Gryffindor boy looked up in surprise and quickly pulled the stool out of
Alfred's grasp. "This seat is already taken," he said with a scowl.
"What? Come on, it's totally empty."
"No. It belongs to my flying mint-green bunny." Arthur caught Alfred's dubious
expression and added, "He's invisible."
Alfred sighed and asked a few other students if he could sit next to them. They
all said no. The American was about ready to give up and take one of the seats
near the front (just like at muggle schools, the seats in front were always the
least popular), when a Hufflepuff with blond pigtails responded with something
other than 'no.'
Instead, she replied, "Eh?"
Assuming that meant no, Alfred reached for his books and turned to leave, but
the girl grabbed his sleeve and smiled apologetically.
"I'm sorry! Of course you can sit here. I was just surprised that you noticed
me. My name's Madeleine," she said, moving her books to the side of the table
to make room for Alfred.
"Hey, you're American!" Alfred replied happily as he dumped his books on the
table. He could tell it was an old table from its intricate network of
scratches and blast marks, each bearing testament to the countless failed
spells the table had witnessed over the years. It was strange to go to school
in a castle. He could feel the history weighing him down at every turn. (The
ghosts in particular were absolutely terrifying, but his parents had given him
a Ghost-Be-Gone charm as a parting gift, so the spirits had to stay at least
100 feet away.)
"Actually, I'm Canadian," Madeleine corrected softly. She opened her book to
the front section. It looked like the class was starting on various truth
spells.
"That's a type of American… North American!" Alfred joked. That was about the
extent of his geographic knowledge, so it felt good to have a chance to show it
off.
The Charms Professor called the two dozen students in the class to attention,
explaining that the shortage of students interested in taking the Charms NEWT
meant that sixth and seventh years from all the houses were enrolled in the
class together. She launched into the first topic for the year: truth charms.
After she explained that the Veritas charm would prevent a person from lying
(though it was weaker than Veritaserum, which compelled a person to answer
truthfully), she instructed the students to practice on each other well trying
to tell outrageous lies.
"I have a pet tiger," Alfred said before Madeleine cast the charm. Then he
tried to repeat the same lie. "I have a... well... my cat is large," he
admitted under the spell's effect.
Madeleine laughed. "Here, try me." She scrunched up her nose as Alfred cast the
spell. "I have a pet bear," she said. Alfred frowned, thinking he had miscast
the spell, before Madeleine reassured him that she actually did have a magical
talking pet bear. She promised to bring her to class next time, explaining that
the professors didn't care because they didn't notice.
"The spell is used to best effect on an unsuspecting target," the charms
professor explained, "since they might let the truth slip out unintentionally,
whereas a person who realizes that they have been charmed will simply refuse to
answer your questions. That's it for today class, be sure to practice the charm
on at least three different people before next class."
"Professor, are you encouraging us to practice the charm on other students?" a
girl asked from the front of the class.
The charms professor smiled. "Of course. The world would be a better place with
more truth."
As the students bustled to their next class, Alfred glanced at the empty seat
next to Arthur and pursed his lips. Two questions suddenly occurred to him. How
could a bunny be both invisible and green? And if it was flying, why would it
need a seat?
He wanted answers and now he knew how to get them. But first, he wanted lunch.
(And then he decided to take an afternoon nap. And then Francis asked for some
help with a spell involving the food in the dining hall. Alfred wasn't avoiding
a confrontation with Arthur... he was just easily distracted.)
===============================================================================
Having failed to make even a simple Forgetfulness Potion (a potion typically
assigned to third years) during his arduous one-on-one tutoring session with
the Potions Master, Arthur was not in a good mood. He was just grateful that he
wasn't forced to take a potions class with the fifth year students. Despite
being the Slytherin Head of House, the Potions Master was remarkably kind and
patient. But even she had suggested that Arthur's study of potions would
probably be best accomplished on a "theoretical level." He knew she meant that
he should stay away from any actual potion brewing.
As he ducked out of the dungeon classroom, Arthur slammed into another student.
He apologized, as any gentleman would, but bit back any further apology when he
realized that the other student was Alfred. Bloody Slytherins, always
cluttering up his hallways.
Alfred stepped in front of him, blocking Arthur's path down the corridor.
Arthur surreptitiously reached for his wand, ready to defend himself from the
other boy's tricks. He could see Alfred placing his wand back into his robe
pocket, making Arthur suspect that Alfred had just cast a spell or was going to
cast one soon.
Instead of reaching for his wand again, the Slytherin grinned and asked a
question. "Hey, Arthur! I was wondering... how is your flying bunny both mint
green and invisible?"
Arthur scoffed at Alfred's ignorance. "He's green to those with the skill to
see him."
The Gryffindor brushed past Alfred and continued walking down the corridor.
Although it was a bit early for supper, he was hungry enough to go straight to
the dining hall without dropping off his book bag in his room.
"So if he's green does that make him a Slytherin fan?" Alfred called as he
followed behind.
"Don't be absurd, flying mint bunny is entirely the wrong shade of green,"
Arthur replied as he ducked down one of the nearly secret staircases that
provided a shortcut between classrooms. He was feeling stressed from his
continued failure in potions class and didn't want to deal with an annoying
American's questions.
Arthur sped up as the dining hall came into sight. He heard the usual cacophony
of student voices, but there was a surprising undercurrent of irritation and
complaints. As he entered the dining hall, Arthur was greeted with a shocking
sight. The Gryffindor table was completely empty, while Ravenclaw and
Hufflepuff were filled to the brim. The reason? Someone had replaced the usual
food at the Gryffindor table with Arthur's cooking.
"Dude, what's that crap they're serving you guys?" Alfred asked, his voice
filled with disgust as he stared at the collection of burnt inedibles. He
walked over and picked up one of Arthur's scones. He took a bite from the
blackened mass and started gagging. "Ew, this is nasty," he complained, setting
the remainder of the scone back on the table.
Arthur glared at the other student. Although Alfred was very good at feigning
ignorance, it was obvious that he and the Slytherin trio had pulled this prank.
Francis and company had always loved teasing Arthur's cooking. His food was
perfectly delicious, so they must have poisoned it somehow to discourage the
other Gryffindor students from sitting at their normal table. It was the only
possible explanation.
To rub salt in the wound, Alfred grinned and offered Arthur a seat at the
Slytherin table.
What Arthur wanted to say was 'No, thank you. My cooking is perfectly delicious
so I will be eating at the Gryffindor table. As usual.'
What escaped from his lips was something else entirely.
"I think I'd rather eat you."
"What?" Alfred scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.
Arthur thought fast. He opened his mouth to claim that he wanted to eat stew,
but the words wouldn't come out because they weren't true. He let loose an
ungentlemanly swear and decided that he wasn't hungry after all.
Once safely ensconced in his room, Arthur repeatedly knocked his head against
the wall. He didn't believe in love at first sight. It was sappy and stupid.
But he couldn't stop thinking about Alfred, even though the boy was immature
and had bad taste in friends and even worse taste in Houses. It didn't help
that the American kept pestering him at every available opportunity. Maybe if
Arthur just kept his distance his... infatuation... would just go away on its
own.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
My first week at Hogwarts was amazing! I got in to the house I wanted and I've
already made several friends. Hogwarts seems kinda cliquish (the kids in each
house just hang out with their own house), but I'm sure I'll get to know more
people in time. It's weird to hear all these British accents, but at least
there are a few other international students around.
My favorite class is Charms. They teach the sixth years and the seventh years
together because only two dozen students are studying for the NEWTs. My labmate
Madeleine is super nice. She likes to bring her magical pet bear to class, but
the bear keeps eating the memory-erase charms.
Tryouts for the Quidditch team are next week. Wish me luck!
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
Sixth years had a lot of free time, but they were supposed to spend most of it
studying. Normally, Alfred would have blown off studying for at least the first
few weeks and just spent it hanging out with his new friends while exploring
Hogwarts. And he did exactly that with Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis, who
proceeded to show him every secret passageway in Hogwarts. The best one wasn't
even a secret passage, just a clever way to escape curfew: to leave the
Slytherin dormitory, all they had to do was open the window and summon their
broomstick. It worked like a charm.
Alfred spent the rest of his spare time with Madeleine. She actually liked
studying so they met in a quiet corner of the library to work on charms. Their
preferred spot was normally empty, but at the end of the week they discovered
Kiku at the table. Madeleine moved as if to find a new table, but Alfred
grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. He liked Kiku, and he also realized that
wherever Kiku studied, there was a good chance Arthur might join.
"Mind if we join you, Kiku?" Alfred asked.
The quiet Ravenclaw student shook his head in response, inviting them to join
him at the table with a smooth hand gesture.
"Thanks!" Alfred chirped as he dropped his books onto the table. Kiku winced at
the noise and resumed studying. Alfred had barely spent a few minutes on his
potions essay when he noticed a new figure approaching the table.
It was Arthur, who glared at Alfred and Madeleine. His glare deepened when
Alfred smiled back. Arthur interpreted the smile to hide some terrible
machinations, like another effort to steal his potions book. He gripped the
book tighter to his chest.
Madeleine glanced up from the table. "You're welcome to join us," she offered
politely.
"Thank you, I prefer to study alone," he coolly replied, before turning on his
heels.
Alfred might have imagined it, but he thought he caught sight of Kiku rolling
his eyes.
The Slytherin boy didn't understand why Arthur had become such a big jerk, but
it was starting to get on his nerves. Alfred usually ignored the everyday
slings and arrows of teenage life, but he was sick of being ignored. If Arthur
thought he was better than everyone else just because he was a Prefect and he
was in Gryffindor, then Alfred was going to prove that he was wrong.
===============================================================================
Quidditch tryouts occurred in alphabetical order, with one day per House. Since
Slytherin went last, Alfred had plenty of time to study the strengths and
weaknesses of the other teams, particularly Gryffindor's.
Alfred scribbled furiously as he watched Arthur compete during the tryouts.
Arthur was good. He was very good. His broom flashed past, but even at high
speeds Arthur could pull off a sharp turn and maneuver quickly. At the same
time, Alfred could also see Arthur's weaknesses. He was cocky and he hadn't
been challenged on the field in a long time. The beginnings of a plan started
to form in Alfred's mind...
"So you take notes for Quidditch, but not for your classes?" Madeleine asked
with a soft smile.
"Of course, this is important," Alfred replied without taking his eyes from the
field. Watching the tryouts for the other teams would give him a competitive
advantage and help him become the school's best Quidditch player.
They sat together in a nearly empty section of the stands. It was too far away
to hear what the Gryffindor players were saying, but still gave Alfred an
excellent view of the entire field. Madeleine had encouraged Alfred to dress in
Hufflepuff colors so that they wouldn't attract unwanted attention (it was hard
to hate a House when you forgot it existed half the time), but he had refused.
They were the only non-Gryffindors in attendance, drawing a number of
unfriendly glances.
As the youngest Gryffindor seeking to join the team, Peter Kirkland was the
last to tryout. He started yelling at his cousin Arthur when they told him to
try again next year.
Madeleine and Alfred passed by the screaming match between Peter and Arthur as
they cut across the field, taking the shortest path back to the castle's
courtyard.
"You don't want me to be on the team because I'm better than you are!" Peter
shouted.
"You're just a spoiled brat," Arthur retorted.
"Am not!"
"Are too."
"Dee two!" Alfred immediately interjected. As everyone stared at him with
various levels of confusion (Peter, Madeleine) and annoyance (Arthur), Alfred
explained, "R2-D2, you know? From the Star Wars movies?" Even after that
explanation, everyone continued to stare. Alfred felt like he had entered a
parallel universe. An evil parallel universe. "You've never seen Star Wars?" he
shouted. "Oh man, we need to do a movie marathon. Does this place have a TV
lounge somewhere?"
"You're at the world's premier board school for young witches and wizards and
you want to watch movies?" Arthur asked with incredulity.
"Uh, yeah."
"That's even dumber than Peter thinking he should be on the Quidditch team,"
Arthur retorted, causing Peter to complain and reigniting their shouting match.
Madeleine tugged on Alfred's robes and they resumed walking back to the castle.
Alfred was still trying to sort out how he could arrange for a movie marathon,
so he didn't notice the three Gryffindor students waiting to ambush them near a
curve into the path until Maddie pulled short, putting herself between Alfred
and the other students.
"Hufflepuff, this has nothing to do with you," one of the other students
warned, before giving Maddie to the count of three to leave.
"What?" Alfred asked, still trying to understand what the other students
wanted. They looked kinda annoyed. Maybe they wanted to be invited to watch
movies too?
"No," Madeleine immediately replied, reaching for her wand.
Alfred barely had a chance to dodge one curse before he felt a stinging jinx
hit him in the face and knock off his glasses. Half-blinded, he grabbed
Madeleine's hand and ducked into the closest building—the stable for magical
creatures. The adrenaline kicked his brain into higher gear and he suddenly
realized that his assailants were members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
They must have thought that he was spying on them during tryouts. Perhaps it
would have been a good idea to take Maddie's advice and don Hufflepuff colors.
As Alfred dug his wand out of his pockets (stupid robes for having so many
stupid pockets!), Madeleine fortified the entrance. She levitated wheelbarrows
to form a barricade in front of the door before pulling Alfred into an empty
stall.
Alfred squinted, and over the top of the stable he spotted the students
attempting to enter the back door. He cast a glisseo charm, causing the person
in front to flail and fall down on the suddenly slippery ground. Madeleine
lifted another into the air with a levitation charm. They both ducked as the
third person shot a jinx in their direction.
"Expelliarmus!" Alfred heard a familiar voice shout. He glanced over the stall
and saw Arthur standing over his three teammates as he scolded them, "I don't
care who started it. If you're having problems, you need to summon a professor.
You don't just cast spells at another student. I'm docking 50 points from
Gryffindor."
Alfred grinned. It was strange—but very pleasant—to hear Arthur sound annoyed
at someone else for once. After he sent the other students on their way, the
Gryffindor Prefect glanced up at Alfred. Even though he didn't have his
glasses, Alfred could guess that Arthur was scowling.
"Jones, why am I not surprised to find you in the midst of trouble?"
"They attacked us," Madeleine retorted, irritation making her voice
surprisingly loud.
"Again. I don't care. Call a professor to sort out trouble," Arthur replied. He
stepped around the slippery patch of ground and approached the other two
students. Arthur frowned as he walked close enough to see the red welts
covering Alfred's face.
"I believe these are yours, Jones. I found them outside."
Arthur cast a repair spell on the spectacles and returned them to Alfred. He
declined to mention the stab of worry he felt when he saw Alfred's broken
spectacles on the ground. He opened his mouth to suggest that the two students
visit the nurse to heal the red welts, when he noticed the unicorn foal in the
stall with them. The foal nuzzled Alfred's face, instantly removing the jinx.
"Thanks," Alfred replied, completely oblivious to the unicorn as he grabbed his
glasses and returned them to his face. Then he remembered that he was annoyed
with Arthur. "Not that we needed help or anything."
"Well I didn't care what happened to you two, I just didn't want the magical
beasts in the middle of a duel," Arthur grumbled automatically, unsure how to
process the sight he had just witnessed. Unicorn foals cloaked themselves in an
invisibility spell during their tender years, so he wasn't surprised the two
students didn't see the foal, but he was shocked that Silver would willingly
use her healing powers to help Alfred. It had taken him weeks to earn the
foal's trust, whereas Alfred just walked into the stall and apparently waltzed
into her good graces.
After they left, Arthur turned to face Silver. "He's just a pretty face," he
muttered.
She whickered and gave him a disbelieving look. For some reason, it reminded
him of Kiku.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Guess who made the Quidditch team? Me! And I'm going to be seeker too:-)
Our first game is in two weeks. We've been practicing like crazy to get ready.
English breakfasts are really strange. What's up with beans and tomatoes for
breakfast? One of my friends really loves tomatoes, so I just give him mine. I
really miss chocolate-chip pancakes for breakfast. Maddie promises me she'll
make some on the weekend to celebrate making the team!
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
Alfred felt like his face would burst from smiling as he took the field in his
green and silver robes. He was playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. He waved at the
hostile crowd, determined that he was going to win his first game. Victory was
so close he could almost taste it.
The weather had decided to cooperate, giving them a mostly sunny sky and
relatively warm temperatures, at least by the standards of September in
Britain.
Students wearing red and gold filled the stands. As usual, Ravenclaw and
Hufflepuff students cheered for Gryffindor when their own teams weren't
playing. A small number of Slytherin students attended the game, a few specks
of green in the sea of red.
"G'day, folks! I'm Jack Logan, your Quidditch announcer, here to give you the
second-by-second report on this match! Folks, this is great start to the
season. Gryffindor, the reigning Quidditch champions will be facing their arch-
rivals, Slytherin."
The audience booed the Slytherin players as they took the field.
Jack waited for the angry shouts to subside and then continued his
announcement. "Today promises to be particularly interesting because the
Slytherins are fielding a new seeker. Alfred Jones, a sixth-year who recently
transferred from America. And of course, we have the returning seventh-year
Slytherin chasers, Antonio Carriedo, Francis Bonnefoy, and Gilbert Awe—Gilbert,
your last name is not 'Awesome.' Stop changing the official materials!"
"Kesesese."
The announcer finished listing the Slytherin players. The audience finally
began to clap as he started to introduce the Gryffindor players. They cheered
wildly when he finished the list with "And here comes Arthur Kirkland,
Gryffindor's seeker and Prefect!"
"Hey, Kirkland!" Alfred shouted at the other team's seeker. "Are you ready for
a crushing defeat?"
"Not bloody likely," Arthur replied, before taking off.
Both teams took their positions hovering on broomsticks above the field and the
referees signaled the start of the game.
"Jones is off like a shot! Has he spotted the snitch already? This could be a
very short game, folks! Kirkland is following closely as Jones leads a merry
chase. Ooh, that was a very impressive reverse spin by Jones! But so far no
snitch. Looks like this was a false alarm."
"You did that on purpose," Arthur accused.
Alfred grinned, but didn't reply. His plan was working perfectly.
The game continued as the Slytherin chasers shot goal after goal towards the
hoops. The Gryffindor keeper blocked most, but a few got through, earning a
quick lead for the Slytherins.
Alfred dodged a bludger and then shot upward, pretending that he'd seen the
snitch again.
The announcer quickly relayed the information to the crowd. "And we've got
another high speed chase with the seekers both going after the snitch. I gotta
admit, folks, I don't see it yet, but Jones looks pretty intent. No, wait,
they've stopped now. Jones is going to be completely worn out by the end of the
game if he keeps chasing after false alarms."
The Gryffindor chasers took back the quaffle and managed to score a few shots
of their own, bringing the game to a tied score.
Both seekers hovered in the middle of the field, high above the action below,
waiting for a glimpse of the elusive golden snitch.
"Oh look, there it is!" Alfred cried with his best fake voice. He shot off
toward the left side of the field. This time Arthur didn't follow… until he saw
the snitch just in front of Alfred. By the time he caught up, Alfred had
already grabbed the snitch and won the game, ending the match in just under an
hour.
"You little cheat!" Arthur said with a scowl as the two teams pretended to be
civilized by shaking each other's hands at the end of the match.
Alfred grinned and shrugged. "What? I gave you fair warning when I spotted it!"
Arthur glared and stalked away.
"Muy bueno, mi amigo!" Antonio cried happily as the rest of the Slytherin
Quidditch team came over to congratulate Alfred. They cheered amongst
themselves as most of the audience booed. Alfred spotted Arthur scowling at him
from across the field and he smirked. If Hogwarts wanted an interhouse rivalry,
he would give them one. Oh yeah, it was on like donkey kong.
Chapter End Notes
     I have a headcannon that American witches and wizards are more
     integrated into popular culture—hence Alfred's knowledge of movies
     and video games. We'll be getting into Arthur's background
     eventually, but it's a bit of a hint that he knows what movies and
     television are.
***** Potions and Tea *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred and Arthur's rivalry intensifies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As part of Operation Bring it On, Alfred began trading taunts with Arthur each
time they met in the castle corridors. Arthur, with a perfectly arched eyebrow
and a small smirk, would say something like:
"You know, Jones, I think you're at the wrong school. You might want to
consider transferring to Warthog's School for Wazzocks."
And Alfred would retort:
"Yeah, but if I leave, who's going to beat your ass at Quidditch, Kirkland?"
Given the size of Hogwarts and their very different class schedules, it was a
bit strange how often they walked past each other in the hallway, but Alfred
had memorized Arthur's schedule by the third week and made sure that he had at
least three run-ins with the Gryffindor Prefect per week. Trading insults with
Arthur was the highlight of his day.
In addition to strategizing smack-downs, the American found himself spending
more time practicing Quidditch and studying for class than ever before. Back
home, he would have been distracted by friends and video games and movies. But
here at Hogwarts... he had trouble making friends outside of Slytherin and
Madeleine. Well, at least his parents would be pleased by the improvement in
his grades.
His main source of fun was pranks and pancakes. The Slytherin trio provided the
pranks and Madeleine supplied the pancakes. Hogwarts thankfully no longer used
House Elves to cook meals, so there was no one to stop Madeleine and Alfred
from slipping into the empty kitchen to make pancakes at midnight. Fortunately,
they both thought that any time of day was a good time for delicious pancakes.
===============================================================================
Arthur (along with most Hogwarts students) skipped the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff
game that always followed the Gryffindor/Slytherin match. It was necessary to
arrange the games so that each House played an equal number of matches against
different opponents, but some matches were more popular than others,
particularly the Serpent vs. Lion game that traditionally started the Quidditch
season.
Since the permanent end of the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts had added extra
Quidditch games, extending the calendar from early October to late March.
Arthur suspected that the main reason for adding more games and changing the
schedule was to increase the number of Gryffindor/Slytherin matches. Not that
he had any complaints, mind you, nothing was quite as thrilling as defeating
his Slytherin archrivals.
Despite the lack of rivalry between the two houses, the Slytherin/Hufflepuff
match was surprisingly well attended. Arthur wore clothing that emphasized the
gold portion of his house colors so that he could blend in. He grabbed a seat
near some Hufflepuffs and stealthily took out a small notebook. He fully
intended to watch the Slytherin seeker during the course of the game and learn
his weaknesses. Arthur had a reputation to uphold and he was not going to be
one-upped by a bloody sixth-year student.
After jotting a few notes, Arthur noticed the sound of giggling directly behind
him. He snuck a quick glance and saw that a nearby Hufflepuff girl was watching
him with a grin. He turned back to his notes, uncertain why she looked
familiar. Then he remembered that she was the Hufflepuff that he always saw
hanging out with Alfred (not that he paid attention to the Slytherin's friends
or anything stalkerish like that).
"What's so amusing?" Arthur turned around and asked, hiding the notebook from
view as he desperately tried to remember her name. It was rather ungentlemanly
to forget.
"You don't need to put away the notebook," she said softly as the announcer
began to name all of the team members as they took the field. "It's just funny,
because Alfred was doing the same thing the other day."
"Don't compare me to him."
"I think you're more alike than you know."
Arthur scoffed and resumed watching the game, his attention focused entirely on
the Slytherin seeker. From an objective point of view, he had to admit that
Alfred had a talent for flying. Despite being taller and larger than Arthur, he
was fast and agile. But Arthur could also see certain weaknesses—Alfred paid
more attention to the right side of the field than the left and he watched the
rival seeker too often. He completely failed to look at the audience, even
though their glances could sometimes be a useful clue for finding the golden
snitch.
Arthur jotted down his notes, although he took care to hide his scribblings
from the Hufflepuff student so she wouldn't be able to share the information
with Alfred. As the game wore on, the Gryffindor student found himself somewhat
tempted to sketch a drawing of Alfred. He really had very nice flying form. His
legs gripped the broom tightly, allowing him to let go and snatch the snitch at
a moment's notice. His golden hair (a perfect match for the golden snitch)
waved slightly in the breeze, with one lock constantly defying gravity. Arthur
couldn't see his blue eyes at this distance, but he imagined that they were
sparkling behind Alfred's spectacles. Recognizing that he was approximately
five seconds away from sighing dreamily and cupping his face in his hands,
Arthur promptly shut down that line of thinking and focused on Alfred's
weaknesses instead of his handsome body. Stupid sexy Slytherin.
About two hours into the game, without a single appearance by the golden
snitch, Arthur realized that it was going to be a very long game. Games past
four hours at Hogwarts were rare, but not unheard of. He had a personal record
of never letting a game go more than three hours, but the times could vary
widely depending on the seekers and the snitch.
Alfred always acted like a hyperactive toddler, but on the field he showed that
he had stamina as well as endless energy. When his constant search for the
golden snitch brought Alfred close to the section of the stands where Arthur
and Madeleine were sitting, Arthur could almost swear that Alfred actually
winked at him. Then logic took over and he realized that if Alfred was winking
at anyone, it definitely would have been the Hufflepuff, not his Quidditch
rival.
At the three hour mark, the teams took a short break and Arthur wished he had
brought a snack and a thermos filled with tea. He loved Quidditch, but it was
far more interesting out on the field than watching from the stands. As he
waited for the game to restart, Arthur decided to politely chat with the
Hufflepuff. Perhaps she would let slip some helpful information about Alfred.
"This must be rather difficult for you, watching Slytherin compete against
Hufflepuff. Do you root for your house or your boyfriend?"
"He's not my boyfriend," she reminded Arthur, then added, "And I'm not really
interested in who wins or loses, eh. It's not like it's hockey."
Arthur was too much of a gentleman to voice his disbelief ('Never call a lady a
liar!' his aunt had always said), but be didn't think she would sit on the
stands for three hours unless she enjoyed watching Alfred fly. (Some small
portion of his mind acknowledged that this may have said something about his
own willingness to continue watching Alfred play.)
Madeleine grinned. "Besides, what makes you think I'm here to watch Alfred?"
Almost as soon as the game resumed, Alfred swooped down and caught the snitch.
He waved at the audience, and this time Arthur was positive that the American
seeker was staring directly at him. If Alfred wanted a challenge, Arthur was
happy to oblige.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Guess who won his second Quidditch match? We had an awesome party to celebrate.
But don't worry—there wasn't any alcohol. Hogwarts is pretty strict about that
stuff, other than the Butterbeer at Hogsmeade.
I do miss soda. They serve lots of juice and tea (because, duh, it's England)
in the dining hall, but nothing carbonated. I'm going to drink Coke nonstop
when you come to visit for xmas.
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
Alfred handed the envelope to his eagle in the Owlery and cheerfully climbed
down the steps. He passed Gilbert on the stairs and waved. Given how much beer
Gilbert had drunk at the Slytherin victory party (Alfred was old enough to know
when it was a good idea to lie to one's parents), he was a bit surprised to see
Gilbert moving around so early in the morning.
For some reason, Gilbert and Francis both kept golden chicks instead of owls,
so Alfred assumed that Gilbert was heading up to spend time with Gilbird and
Pierre. Knowing Gilbert, he probably also had a prank in mind (pranks were the
only things that got him out of bed before noon). Some days he liked to
distribute howlers to random students because it was highly amusing to watch
their shocked faces when they received the messages during breakfast.
Francis and Antonio were still eating when Alfred arrived. Alfred slid into his
seat, pushed the tomatoes from his plate onto Antonio's, and gladly accepted
another helping of hashbrowns from Francis. Alfred's seat gave him an excellent
view of Arthur on the other side of the room (which was a coincidence, of
course, and not the primary reason Alfred had selected the seat).
He watched as Arthur sighed and carefully opened a red envelope. The paper
rearranged itself into an angry red mouth and began to screech at Arthur for
neglecting his cousin and denying 'poor Peter' a spot on the Quidditch team.
Alfred felt bad for the Gryffindor boy as everyone in the room listened to the
angry tirade.
"That isn't one of Gilbert's, is it?" Alfred asked his companions.
Francis shook his head. "No, I'm afraid Arthur's aunt comes up with that stuff
on her own."
A student in Ravenclaw received a howler claiming that his "vital regions"
would be conquered by a pack of angry Kneazles unless he delivered a crate of
Weißbier to Slytherin House.
Antonio smiled. "Now, that's Gilbert!"
After his late breakfast, Alfred grabbed his book bag and eagerly trotted to
the library. He and Madeleine planned to study before lunch, then he would join
the Slytherin team for afternoon practice. Normally, Alfred wouldn't be excited
to study on a Saturday morning, but he had discovered that Arthur and Kiku
liked to study in the library on weekend mornings, so despite his love of
sleeping in, he decided to 'conveniently' arrive at the same time.
The American boy took his seat and eagerly pulled out his parchment and quill
so he would appear to be industriously working when Arthur arrived. He slowly
wrote his astronomy paper, glancing up every few minutes when he heard the
sound of a person approach.
The third time he lifted his head he was rewarded with the sight of Arthur and
Kiku approaching. He smiled at both and waved. Kiku nodded at Alfred and
silently took a seat. Arthur hesitated, then took the seat across from Alfred
with a calculating expression.
"Where's your girlfriend, Jones?" he asked crisply as he pulled out his much-
maligned Potions book. "You didn't have a fight, did you?"
"I'm not his girlfriend," Madeleine said with a quiet chuckle as she silently
appeared behind Arthur, who nearly yelped in surprise. She sat down and after a
moment's thought added, "Not that there's anything wrong with dating a
Slytherin boy." She smiled at him sweetly. "After all, didn't you date Francis
two years back?"
Arthur glared. "Yes, I did. So I speak from experience when I say they're a
nest of vipers."
"Wait... you dated Francis?" Alfred asked, leaning forward in interest.
"Do you mind? I need to finish my potions homework before practice," Arthur
replied, cutting off further discussion.
For once, Alfred managed to sense that he should probably stop talking. He had
suspected the Gryffindor boy played for the Queerditch team, but he was still
irrationally happy to have confirmation. At a boarding school with only 200-
some students, the odds of finding another gay guy of the same age weren't
terribly high. He wondered if he could find a way to casually work his own
homosexuality into the conversation later.
He scratched out a reasonable astronomy essay even though he didn't believe a
word of it. Alfred had signed up for astronomy thinking it was the study of
stars. Turns out he had confused astronomy with astrology. At least they were
learning the history of the names for the different constellations, even if the
professor believed in the accuracy of the zodiac. Alfred thought it was
ridiculous to assume that everyone in the world shared one of twelve different
personalities. It was nearly as silly as trying to sort teenagers into four
houses.
After he finished his essay, Alfred surreptitiously read Arthur's potions
essay, finding it hard to make his way through the upside down cursive.
Apparently the fifth year Potions class was working on the Draught of Peace.
The potion helped relieve feelings of anxiety, but it was tremendously
difficult to make, meaning that the people who couldn't make it were usually
the ones who needed it most. He watched as Arthur copied over a description of
the potion-making process from a library book.
Arthur caught him staring. The Gryffindor frowned and moved his books to block
Alfred's view. Alfred stood up and walked around to read the essay over
Arthur's shoulder.
"Do you Americans care nothing for personal space?" Arthur griped.
"It turns orange before it turns white and it only turns blue once," Alfred
replied, pointing out the inaccurate portions of the essay with his quill. He
frowned as he stared at the essay and the book sitting nearby. "Aren't you
supposed to write the essay after you make the potion?"
"Do you think I didn't try? First the potion turned to cement and then it shot
out green sparks. Trust me, it's easiest if I rely on the textbook instead of
setting the dungeon on fire."
Kiku arched his eyebrow.
"Again," Arthur added under his breath.
Alfred grinned. "Well that's easy enough to fix. I'll show you how to make it."
He grabbed Arthur's potions book and set a quick pace through the library
shelves and then the hallway corridors until he reached the potions classroom
in the dungeon, secure in the knowledge that Arthur would follow if only to
reclaim his textbook.
He grabbed the four ingredients off the shelf and set them on the table as
Arthur strode into the classroom. They stared at each other from across the
room. Alfred could feel his heart beating faster and he didn't think it was
from his walk to the dungeon. He had liked Arthur from the moment they met, but
he was starting to realize that he like-liked Arthur. It suddenly became
imperative that he find a way back into Arthur's good graces.
"For the record, if we blow up the dungeon, it's on your head," the object of
his affections muttered, glaring at the ingredients like they had personally
offended him.
"Sure," Alfred absent-mindedly agreed, still a little dazed by the realization
that he had fallen bad for a short English boy with an even shorter temper.
Judy Blume had never prepared him for this.
"Well? Stop dawdling and show me how this is done."
With supreme effort of will, Alfred refocused on the matter at hand. Following
Alfred's instructions, Arthur mixed in the ingredients, carefully stirring the
potion through a kaleidoscope of colors, until he reached the third-to-last
stage: a gray and shimmery draught. They both held their breaths as the potion
simmered, slowing darkening and reddening into a bright orange. At just the
right moment, Alfred added the final ingredient, causing the entire potion to
glow white.
When the potion failed to explode, Arthur released a sigh of relief. He offered
Alfred a tentative smile before jotting down his observations in his notes. He
leaned over the desk and scribbled furiously while the thoughts were still
fresh in his head.
Alfred used the stirring spoon to try a bit of the potion.
"Are you insane?" Arthur shouted, grabbing the spoon out of Alfred's hands.
"No. I'm just testing to make sure it worked," Alfred calmly replied. "Good
news, it did."
Arthur scowled and whacked Alfred with the spoon. "You nearly gave me a heart
attack. This potion can send you into a deep sleep if it's not made properly."
"Aw, Kirkland, if you're feeling anxious, we've got the cure right here."
Alfred smiled and offered the spoon.
"I'd prefer rum, but I suppose this will have to do," Arthur replied, taking a
sip for himself. His posture subtly relaxed as he drank the potion. Even his
frown loosened into an expression that almost approached a smile.
"Want to try making another one? What are you supposed to work on next week?"
Alfred asked, eager to find an excuse to extend his time with Arthur. It was
like they were back on the Hogwarts Express, simply enjoying each other's
company.
Arthur replied with a faint blush and a single word: "Amortentia."
Alfred grinned and nodded happily. "Ooh, another tricky one. I think Professor
Chatterton keeps the main ingredients locked up to make sure no one brews love
potions when she isn't looking. But I can show you most of the steps."
He proceeded to do just that, enjoying every second that they stood together,
adding ingredients to the simmering pot and acting like people who actually
liked each other, as opposed to two students on different Quidditch teams
caught in a vicious interhouse rivalry. It felt a little like Romeo and Juliet,
except that Alfred wasn't going to make a Draught of Living Death to create the
appearance of death or an Elixir of Life as the cure. He had enjoyed that play
a lot more once he realized it was about potions.
Alfred explained how the only antidote to a love potion was a hate potion. It
was brewed using the same ingredients, but in reverse order. The final
ingredient was a piece of hair from the object of disaffection.
Sitting together at one of the potions tables, they chatted about potions and
Shakespeare and completely lost track of time. Arthur explained that he saw
Macbeth as a morality play warning against the dangers of relying on
divination, though there was no truth to the claim that Shakespeare used real
spells in the text.
"I've never been very good at divination," Alfred admitted.
"Oh? It's one of my better subjects."
"Really? Prove it," Alfred said, softening his words with a smile as he offered
his palm. He grinned happily as Arthur accepted the challenge and took hold of
his hand. It felt nice to have the Gryffindor student smoothly caress his palm.
Arthur carefully examined the three major lines—the love line, the head line,
and the life line. Reading the lines, he could see a long and happy love life.
The head line showed creativity, along with a taste of adventure and great
enthusiasm for life. Most intriguingly, the life line showed that Alfred would
soon face a momentous decision.
Of course, Arthur wasn't going to tell Alfred a word of that. He glibly
provided a more negative fortune to lower Alfred's spirits before the next
Quidditch game. Arthur pointed to different lines on the hand and 'explained'
their meaning:
"Your love line is filled with a slew of temporary and meaningless
relationships, probably because you have a selfish and materialistic outlook
when it comes to love. Your attention span is short and you don't enjoy deep
thinking. You prefer working toward physical achievements rather than mental
ones. And it looks like you're going to have a nervous breakdown soon."
Alfred grinned. "Sorry, what'd you say? I wasn't paying attention. Seriously,
Arthur, even I can tell that you were bullshitting that, and I suck at
divination. Give me a proper reading."
Considering that Alfred had just helped him with a potion and could be rather
nice when he chose, Arthur relented. He summoned a pair of tea cups and some of
his favorite tea.
"Boil some water," he instructed Alfred. "Tessomancy has always been my
strongest divination skill."
Once the tea was prepared, Alfred stared at the cup with a skeptical look. He
took a sip and wished that Arthur had summoned some sugar. Plain tea was nasty
and bitter. With an expression of great suffering, Alfred managed to down the
entire drink. He hoped that he had an amazing fortune to make up for it.
They finished at the same time (Arthur because he was savoring the cup, Alfred
because he couldn't manage to drink the entire thing in one gulp) and exchanged
cups.
Arthur glanced at the grounds at the bottom of the tea cup. He planned to fake
a prophecy by rolling his eyes into the back of his head, spouting some grim-
sounding nonsense in a dark voice, and then pretending that he didn't remember
what had happened afterward (the mark of a true prophecy). He'd used the trick
before on the gullible and the results were always hilarious.
That was what he intended, but as soon Arthur rolled his eyes back into his
head, swayed dramatically, and prepared to deliver his 'prophecy,' Alfred
wrecked the plan.
"Artie!" the other boy shouted frantically, gripping Arthur by the shoulders.
Arthur didn't have time to react before Alfred scooped him up into his arms and
raced to the classroom exit. He thought he heard the sound of a tea cup
breaking as it hit the floor.
Two thoughts shot through Arthur's head. First, he realized that Alfred had
very muscular arms and a firm chest. Second, he knew he would die of
mortification if anyone saw them like this.
"Put me down! Put me down!" Arthur shouted just as they reached the final row
of desks.
"Arthur! Are you okay?" Alfred asked frantically, his blue eyes searching
Arthur's face for any sign of magical illness or distress. The level of
palpable concern was almost endearing.
"Of course I'm fine, you twit. Haven't you seen anyone deliver a prophecy
before?" Arthur sighed. "You've completely ruined it. Now we're never going to
know what your tea leaves said."
Alfred bit his lip—something he often did when he was worried or thinking hard,
not that Arthur paid attention to those sorts of things. He shook his head and
said, "I still think you should go to the nurse. You look pretty red."
Arthur frowned and hoped that Alfred mistook his red face for anger instead of
embarrassment. He didn't want Alfred to start teasing him based on his
misguided crush. Then he realized that Alfred was still holding him. Arthur was
short, but he wasn't that short, and Alfred was just carrying him around like
it was nothing.
"You can set me down," he reminded the Slytherin boy.
Alfred flushed and complied—with their tomato-red faces, the two of them could
have set Antonio into paroxysms of joy. They were standing close, too close,
and Arthur was acutely aware that he could easily lean forward on his toes and
press his lips against Alfred's. The whisper of air as Alfred began to close
the distance between them brought Arthur back to his senses. He jerked
backwards, stumbling heavily against a table.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alfred asked.
"Perhaps I will go see the nurse," Arthur murmured, before slipping out of the
room.
Alfred watched as Arthur disappeared down the corridor. He cleaned up the
broken tea cup with a quick spell, before glancing back to see Arthur's cup
still sitting on the table. Alfred glanced at the tea dregs, but they just
looked like a Rorschach test. He could see... a squiggly line and a cat.
He pondered the portents for a few minutes, before deciding that they probably
didn't mean anything.
===============================================================================
The next time Alfred passed Arthur in the hallway he considered a friendly
greeting instead of an insult, but the Brit beat him to the punch:
"It's amazing your broom can even hold an ego as large as yours," Arthur said
with a smirk.
"Well it didn't have any trouble carrying me and your mom last night," Alfred
replied.
From the sudden silence in the corridor, he could tell that he had said
something horribly wrong. What was wrong with Brits? Didn't everyone love a
good 'your momma' joke? Alfred watched, perplexed, as Arthur silently stalked
away.
Sometime later, Francis explained that Arthur was an orphan.
Alfred spent the rest of the day slowly beating his head against the wall.
Chapter End Notes
     That awkward moment when you make a 'your momma' joke to an orphan.
     Ooops.
     "Wazzock" is old-fashioned UK slang for a stupid or annoying person.
     Unfortunately for Alfred, I believe he may be outclassed in the
     insult department. (Sometimes I write Arthur as a tetchy character
     just so I can enjoy him insulting everyone.)
***** Fighting Words *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred and Arthur's relationship hits its low point.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Arthur watched the delicate heart-shaped swirls drift upward from the cauldron.
He had actually made the love potion Amortentia properly and with only a
smidgeon of help from Alfred. It was some sort of miracle. As the stood
together watching the potion bubble merrily, Alfred grinned and leaned forward,
taking in a good whiff.
"The scents are different for each person, based on what you love best," he
explained. He sighed in appreciation. "Oh man, this batch smells awesome."
"What do you smell?" Arthur asked curiously. He wondered what the American
liked best. Surely it would be something like hamburgers and pancakes. The
Slytherin boy's appetite was legendary, even among those who lived in different
Houses.
Alfred closed his eyes as he practically dunked his nose in the potion. "I
smell rum and mint and..." he paused as he tried to identify the final one.
"Roses."
Arthur's heart lurched as he recognized the tie between himself and the three
scents. He loved rum and mint tea (although not together) and roses were his
favorite flowers. But did Alfred know that? Could the potion provide scents
even if Alfred didn't understand the connection himself?
Oblivious to Arthur's inner turmoil, Alfred turned to face the Gryffindor
student. He grinned and asked, "How 'bout you?"
Arthur leaned over the cauldron and breathed deeply. It was hard to find the
words to describe it, but the potion smelled like sunshine and the sky itself.
He couldn't really identify the final scent. It was a bit musky, but pleasant
and familiar. The scent grew undeniably stronger as Alfred stepped closer and
the Gryffindor realized that he could smell the scent coming from two
sources—the potion and Alfred himself.
Arthur's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but the words
ended in a mumble as the American's lips pressed against his own. They started
hesitantly, touching nowhere but their lips. Sweet and slow was lovely for
some, but Arthur had been waiting months for this chance. He reached up and
wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling the other boy closer and giving
him permission to place his own hands on Arthur's waist.
They banged up against a table, barely noticing because they were too focused
on using their tongues to explore each other's mouths. Alfred lifted the
smaller boy onto the table, neither of them breaking the kiss. Arthur's eyes
fluttered open as he felt a warm hand slip under his shirt.
"Too much?" Alfred asked sheepishly, moving to withdraw his hand.
"Not enough," Arthur replied, threading his fingers through Alfred's hair as he
closed the distance between their lips. He wrapped his legs around Alfred,
pulling the other boy forward until there was no space between them. He wanted
the warmth and the friction.
Arthur moved his lips to Alfred's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
Alfred moaned happily, then returned the favor. They covered each other in
kisses and hickeys and Arthur swore he was about one minute away from just
ripping off the American's clothes.
Feeling bold, Arthur slipped his hand below Alfred's belt. "Are you happy to
see me... or is that just your wand?" he asked.
"Arthur!" a voice called from a distance. The Gryffindor jerked back, afraid
that they would be discovered. He opened his eyes to discover that he was still
in his bed, although the angle of sunlight through the window told him that it
was already late in the morning.
"Hey, Arthur! You're going to miss breakfast," his roommate called from the
door. Arthur grumbled and replied that he would be down in a few, internally
cursing the boy's attempt to be helpful. Why couldn't he have waited another 5
minutes? He waited for his roommate to leave, keeping his blanket strategically
wrapped around his body.
His dream might have been fake, but his hard-on was very real.
===============================================================================
While Arthur was in the Prefect's bathroom, fantasizing about the perfect
ending to his dream, the real Alfred was hanging out in the Slytherin lounge,
avoiding his homework by chatting with the students who passed through the
lounge. Alfred liked being socialable and had even brought down part of the
care package sent by his parents so the other students could get a delicious
taste of the United States. No one made neon cupcakes like America!
As Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio entered, Alfred soon noticed something off
about the trio. Antonio was frowning. Alfred didn't realize that Toni was even
capable of expressions other than a cheerful smile.
"What's up, Toni?" he asked.
"La vida no tiene sentido," Antonio said with a flat expression and dull eyes.
"We're trying out a new jinx!" Gilbert explained.
"It's called Opprimendi Desperatio. The advantage of creating our own is that
no one knows the counterspell," Francis added.
"So... you made a spell to turn people into zombies?" Alfred asked, watching
Antonio carefully in case he suddenly demonstrated an appetite for brains.
Alfred had spent many hours on the computer preparing for the zombie
apocalypse, and he was ready to fight back.
Gilbert laughed. "Kesesese, that's an awesome idea!"
"Not zombies. This spell amplifies feelings of sadness and despair until
they're overpowering," Francis explained. "Toni is actually relatively immune.
Most people burst into tears and can't stop crying for hours."
"We'll give him a few tomatoes and he'll be back to his awesome self."
Alfred nodded and watched them walk up the seventh year boy's room. He made a
mental note to never practice spells with the prankster trio. He also decided
to play a few more zombie games, because you always had to be prepared.
===============================================================================
The day of the second Slytherin/Gryffindor match dawned cloudy and gray. It got
worse from there. A light drizzle in the morning picked up to full-blown rain
by the time of the match, but it didn't dampen the mood of the crowd. Despite
the poor weather, the stands were full of cheering spectators.
Arthur smiled to himself, recognizing his immediate advantage on a rainy game
day. Alfred needed prescription eyewear, which would easily speckle in the
rain, making it much harder for him to spot the snitch. The Gryffindor seeker
turned to face his Slytherin rival as both teams took the field and frowned to
realize that Alfred wasn't wearing spectacles at all. It seemed the boy had
enough foresight to choose contacts instead.
Alfred kicked some mud off his shoes and grimaced. "Jesus, why is this field so
full of—"
Arthur felt the next word hit him like a cold splash of water.
"—mudbloods."
He shook his head, trying to believe that he had misheard. Alfred was just
commenting on the mud, right? Arthur glanced from side to side and saw his
teammates clench their fists and narrow their eyes. They had heard it too.
"Because this is England," Francis replied dismissively.
Arthur fumed. He knew that "the Continent" placed far more emphasis on a wizard
or witch's pedigree, but he didn't understand why Francis was rubbing it in his
face. Arthur's parentage did make him worth less than anyone else.
The American took that moment to catch Arthur's eye and grin. "Hey, Kirkland,
are you gonna give me a challenge this time or are you just gonna muck about?"
he asked jokingly.
"Fuck off, you stupid wanker," Arthur spat back as he flashed the two-fingered
salute.
Even his teammates were taken aback by the venom in his voice.
"Geez, someone's got their broom stuck in the mud," Alfred replied.
===============================================================================
A bludger knocked into Alfred's broom, causing him to spin in the air before he
righted himself. He grimaced, glad that the bludger hadn't hit him this time.
He already had several bruises on his arms and legs from earlier in the game,
not to mention one very close call that would have resulted in a broken nose if
he hadn't dodged fast enough.
For some reason, the Gryffindor beaters had decided to focus all of their
bludger attacks on Alfred. One of the Slytherin beaters had been knocked
unconscious while trying to defend Alfred and they didn't have a replacement,
so Alfred and the remaining Slytherin beater were outnumbered, unable to
prevent the unending barrage.
Free from worrying about the bludger balls, the Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio
were taking the opportunity to rack up a high score, leading Gryffindor by over
100 points. Alfred tried to take some comfort from their high score, but he
mostly felt cold and wet and bruised. He hated the rain. It was impossible to
spot the snitch unless it was right in front of his face. As far as he was
concerned, Quidditch games were meant for warm and sunny days.
Alfred felt more relief than disappointment when Arthur caught the snitch. At
least the game was over and Gryffindor only had a narrow margin of victory.
Alfred gratefully flew down to the ground and didn't even notice the final
bludger sent his way after the referee blew the whistle ending the game. The
ball knocked him from his broomstick, and he fell into the sand pit in the
middle of the field with a thud that knocked all of the breath from his lungs.
His Quidditch teammates crowded around him.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Francis asked.
"What's five times five?" Gilbert added.
"Would you like a tomato?" was Antonio's less-than-helpful contribution.
Madeleine pushed them all aside. She covered him with an umbrella as the field
nurse determined that he was conscious, oriented, and didn't have any broken
bones.
"I'm okay," Alfred reassured Maddie. "Just let me rest here for a few more
minutes."
She nodded and handed the umbrella to Francis. "Hold this, will you?"
They all watched as she calmly walked over to the Gryffindor beater who had
aimed the bludger at Alfred. She cast an invisibility spell and disappeared
from viewer. The beater looked up, like someone had tapped him on the shoulder,
and then suddenly landed on his ass, trying to figure out what the hell just
happened.
Sometimes, it was rather useful to be invisible.
===============================================================================
The Gryffindor team grumbled to themselves in the locker room, annoyed that a
blood purist like Alfred had escaped the match without lasting injury.
"Would have served him right!" one of the beaters said. The other nodded, still
holding a bandage against his nose to staunch the blood flow. The worst part
was that no one had any idea what hit him.
Arthur felt secretly relieved that the Slytherin seeker hadn't been hurt. After
the initial flash of rage passed, he realized that he was still rather
infatuated with the boy and didn't want to see him hurt. Alfred was young and
stupid, but he could still learn the error of his ways.
Still, it hurt to think that his crush thought of him as nothing more than a
'mudblood.' Alfred had been mostly friendly during their interactions, but
Arthur was deeply familiar with the type of folks who could act nicely to some
muggle-born witches and wizards. They would justify the interactions by saying
that Arthur wasn't like all those other nasty muggle-borns. He was smart and a
good wizard. He was an exception.
When Arthur heard his teammates plot further revenge, he spoke up.
"Listen, what he said was terrible, but you need to go to a teacher," he said,
looking the other muggle-born students directly in the eye. "If they catch you
attacking a Slytherin player, they'll kick you off the team, even if he is a
prick," he added, appealing to their rational side.
The team grudgingly complied. They knew that Arthur took his duties as
Gryffindor Prefect seriously and wouldn't hesitate to stop them, even if it
resulted in a weaker Quidditch team. Arthur realized that he was only acting
partially out of a respect for the rules. No matter what Alfred had said,
Arthur didn't want to see him hurt.
Sometimes Alfred seemed almost normal, but it was moments like his 'mudblood'
comment that reminded Arthur why the Slytherin couldn't be trusted. Alfred
could smile and smile and still be a villain. Arthur just wished that his heart
could set its sights on someone more suitable.
===============================================================================
Alfred started to fidget, wishing that he could just go back to his room. The
nurse and Madeleine had both been worried about the possibility of a
concussion, so they insisted he lie still for at least an hour. But patience
had never been one of Alfred's skills.
"What did you do to make the other team so angry?" Maddie asked softly. She
perched on a stool with her magical pet bear—Kumarie—sitting in her lap.
Alfred shrugged. "I think they just wanted to make sure Kirkland caught the
snitch."
Madeleine disagreed. "They looked like they were out for blood to me."
Alfred and Maddie both turned to face the door as two professors strode into
the room, arguing fiercely. It was strange to see the Heads of House for both
Gryffindor and Slytherin visiting the nurse's room and even stranger to listen
to their argument.
"Are you saying that my students are lying?"
"Well, it is rather convenient that they're accusing one of our best Quidditch
players."
"Are you really surprised that a House built on blood purity would attract
bigots?"
"Of course. Go after the founder. You always do that. You shouldn't blame
children for things that happened before they were born."
The two professors, remembering that they were in the nurse's room, looked at
Alfred and walked directly over to his cot.
"Alfred, there's been a rather serious accusation that you called some of the
students on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," the Slytherin head of house paused,
embarrassed to have to say the next word, "um, mud... mudbloods."
Alfred shook his head in confusion. "What the hell is a mudblood?"
"Alfred, language!"
"Sorry. What the heck is a mudblood?"
"It's a person born to muggle-parents," Madeleine piped up. "It's not a term
that's really used in North America. In fact, I never heard it until I came
here."
The professors both stared at her like they were seeing her for the first time.
The Gryffindor head cleared his throat. "Do you mind if we could have a private
chat with Alfred?" he asked sternly, making it clear that it was an order and
not a request.
Madeleine bristled. "Yes, I do mind. My friend is hurt and you're walking in
here like he's the one who's done something wrong."
"Professor, I didn't call anyone a mudblood. I called Kirkland a stick in the
mud. Maybe he misheard?"
"Yes, or perhaps they were just telling stories."
The Gryffindor head of house reacted angrily. "Surely you don't believe him?"
"Alfred is a good student. And he's in my house, so any punishment is my
choice." She patted Alfred's hand. "Get better soon. I'll see you in class on
Monday."
He nodded and watched the two professors leave. They continued arguing all the
way out. He still didn't really understand what they thought he had done, but
it seemed to have something to do with why Arthur was so mad at him. Alfred
reasoned that he must have unintentionally pissed off the Gryffindor student,
the same way he did by making the 'yo momma' joke.
Alfred tried to pinpoint when the anger started. He wasn't very good at
readying other people's moods, but it had been pretty blatant after he
complained about the amount of mud clumps on the field. "Do you think 'mud
clumps' sounds like 'mudbloods'?" he asked Madeleine.
She shrugged. "Maybe. If it were something they expected to hear. You should be
careful about using the m-word, you know. People... well, they have a certain
way they expect Slytherins to be. And they'll cast you to fit the mold if you
let them."
Alfred closed his eyes and sighed. Between the momma joke and the mud clumps
comment, he had really ruined his chances with Arthur. They had one more
Quidditch game before Christmas. He'd give Arthur time to cool off and then
maybe try to approach the other boy during the festive season, when everyone
was more cheerful. If he didn't say anything to Arthur, at least he wouldn't
have to worry about saying something stupid.
Alfred didn't give up on what he wanted. He wanted to be a Quidditch star. And
he wanted Arthur Kirkland. And so help him god, he was going to get both.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Thanks for the care package! Everybody loved the cupcakes, especially the ones
with star sprinkles and frosting that changed colors.
I got a few bruises in the last Quidditch game, but nothing serious. We're
getting ready for the next Slytherin/Gryffindor match. Wish me luck!
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
He should have worn blue.
Alfred pushed his way through the crowds full of red and blue and felt
extremely out of place in his green-and-silver scarf. As he surveyed the
patriotic colors, the perfect solution fell into place. With a quick flick of
his wand—and a soft "Mutari coloribus!" under his breath—he switched his scarf
to a pattern based on the stars and stripes. Now he would blend in with both
sides.
The Slytherin ignored the confused looks as he walked past. Madeleine wasn't
interested in watching the match, so Alfred was on his own. He scanned the
crowd, hoping to find a classmate. Alfred didn't do well if he didn't have
someone to talk to during a game.
His eyes lit up when he spotted Kiku.
The Ravenclaw Prefect had carefully maintained a personal bubble with plenty of
bench space to both his left and his right. (He accomplished this impressive
feat with a small charm that gave everyone within arm's reach the overwhelming
sense that they wanted to sit somewhere else.)
The charm utterly failed to work on Alfred, who was 100% confident he wanted to
sit right next to Kiku. He plopped down next to the Ravenclaw student, not even
noticing as Kiku shifted ever so slightly away.
Alfred pulled out his notebook and winked at Kiku. "Hey, can you do me a favor?
Don't tell Kirkland about my awesome spying."
Kiku arched an eyebrow and gestured to all of the people sitting around them.
He clearly didn't think it could be spying with some many people around.
Alfred disagreed. "Pfft. Of course it still counts as spying."
The Ravenclaw boy shook his head. After a few moments he pointed to the red,
white, and blue scarf.
"It's okay, I'm American!" Alfred cheerfully replied, as his way of explaining
the unusual color combination. He lifted it up to proudly show off his
patriotic design.
They both turned their attention back to the field as the game started. Alfred
felt a little annoyed during the Gryffindor/Slytherin games that he couldn't
spend as much time watching Arthur as he wanted. Because he loved watching
Arthur zoom around on his broomstick. Alfred's Magical History professor had
spent an entire lecture discussing brooms as phallic symbols and now he
couldn't stop thinking about how erotic Arthur looked with a broomstick between
his legs.
Arthur was usually a rule-obeying goody-two-shoes (at least he acted like one,
Alfred had his doubts), but out on the Quidditch field, Alfred could see a
different, wilder side to Arthur. The messy hair was a reminder that beneath
the Gryffindor seeker's carefully cultivated exterior, beat a wild heart.
Alfred wanted to get to know that Arthur, because it seemed like they would
have a hell of a good time together.
Alfred found himself doodling pictures of Arthur in his unique American drawing
style. But none of them really captured the essence of the good-looking Brit.
Kiku pulled the notebook from Alfred's hands and began sketching furiously. A
few minutes later, he returned the notebook with the addition of an amazing
drawing of Arthur. The Gryffindor seeker looked like the king of the skies with
an intense look of concentration on his face and his robes flaring out behind
him.
"Wow, you're seriously good at this," Alfred gushed as he admired the sketch.
He folded it carefully and slipped the drawing into a pocket. He grinned and
resumed watching the match. The picture was good, but nothing could perfectly
capture the real thing.
===============================================================================
Arthur's eye caught a flash of gold in the stands, but he knew it was the
American's hair and not the snitch. No one else's hair shimmered quite so
brightly. Arthur wished that the other boy would stop being so infernally
distracting. He was an irredeemable wanker and it was definitely his fault that
Arthur couldn't concentrate on the game.
The Gryffindor seeker narrowed his eyes as the gold shifted slightly. The
clever snitch was using a line-of-sight trick to hide in the gold of Alfred's
hair. It seemed to have sensed that Alfred was the one portion of the stadium
that Arthur was desperately trying to avoid.
Two could play at this game. Flying up to a higher elevation, and never gazing
directly at the snitch, Arthur smoothly moved closer to the snitch without
letting the sentient ball know that it had been spotted. Arthur was a fast and
agile seeker, but more importantly, he was also a clever one.
At the last moment, Arthur nose-dived towards the stands, putting himself on a
near collision course with Alfred. At the last moment, he pulled away, the
snitch in one hand and a proud smirk on his face. He had ended the game in less
than an hour, proving that muggle-borns could be just as good as any
"pureblood."
Arthur spent a brief, thrilling moment admiring the awed look on Alfred's face,
before he spun around and joined his teammates on the field to celebrate their
victory.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Happy Halloween! Turns out they don't really celebrate Halloween out here. It's
kinda weird. Can you send me a bag of chocolates? I need to show my classmates
what they're missing.
Also, I got your letter with the Christmas plans. Looks good! Do you think it
would be okay if I brought a friend? There's someone I want you to meet.
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
Alfred sighed, wishing that Great Britain wasn't so damn wet. First, Halloween
had passed without a single piece of free candy, and now they had a week of
constant November rain. His hair lay flat against his head (except for his
incorrigible cowlick) and he hated wearing his contacts. But he had to keep
practicing because he wasn't going to lose to Arthur at the third Gryffindor/
Slytherin game. Their final match before Christmas break.
The rest of the team practiced tossing quaffles and dodging bludgers. For his
part, Alfred used one of the training snitches to practice finding the snitch
on an overcast day. He was cold and damp and not having much success. When
their time on the field ran out, the rest of the Slytherin team waved goodbye
as Alfred continued searching for the snitch. He'd set it on a one hour timer,
so the snitch would automatically return if he didn't find it in that amount of
time. Unfortunately, he still had another ten minutes to go.
"Here, snitchy-snitchy-snitchy," Alfred called loudly, the same way he called
his cat for breakfast. Unlike his cat, the snitch didn't magically appear,
meowing hungrily. Alfred sighed, but instantly perked up when he spotted a
flash of dull gold close to the ground. He swooped low and was rewarded with
the caress of cool metal against his hand.
He jumped off his broom and turned around to return the training snitch to the
lockers. At that moment, Alfred noticed what he hadn't before—the Gryffindor
Quidditch team standing between him and the lockers. He'd forgotten to check
the schedule, but it must have been their turn to practice after the Slytherin
team finished.
"It's good that you're finally finished. I thought it would take you forever to
catch that snitch," Arthur said harshly as he slipped to the front of the pack.
They glared at each other from across the wet and rainy field.
Alfred laughed and sauntered forward. "Well, at least I don't need to rely on
my team to distract the other seeker with bludgers," he taunted. He noticed the
Quidditch players behind Arthur starting to reach for their wands and it dawned
on the Slytherin that he should have brought his own little army if he wanted
to face off against the Gryffindor seeker.
"Did you think that was about winning?" Arthur growled. He stalked forward
until the two seekers were standing almost nose to nose. "If you go around
calling people mudbloods you earned every single bloody bruise."
"I never said that," Alfred softly replied, as he reached out and placed his
hands on Arthur's shoulders. He felt buoyed by the small seed of doubt that
flashed across the other boy's eyes, but Arthur's harsh expression soon
returned. He shook his head and glared, shrugging off Alfred's arms just as he
shrugged off his words.
"I know what I heard. We all know what we heard. The only thing I want to know
is why they never punished you. Did your parents bribe them?"
Alfred shook his head. He wished he had the right words to convince Arthur, but
he somehow doubted that words would do the trick. They had started out on such
friendly terms and now he really didn't understand how things had come to this.
He hated the feeling of Arthur staring at him with angry eyes. Wet, angry eyes.
"Are you crying?" the taller boy asked, too softly for anyone but Arthur to
hear. He wasn't sure if it was tears or the rain, but it hurt him to look
either way.
"No," Arthur angrily replied, pushing Alfred away. Alfred slipped and landed on
his butt in the mud. He barely had time to react before Arthur had pressed a
muddy boot against his chest.
"Tell me why they didn't punish you!" Arthur shouted.
"Because I didn't do anything!" Alfred yelled back. He kicked Arthur's leg out
from under him and the Gryffindor boy fell forward, landing on top of Alfred.
Alfred felt his own wand jabbing him, trapped with the rest of his robe under
his leg. Instead of digging out his own wand, he grabbed Arthur's wand from the
boy's inner pocket, realizing that there was a mass of angry Gryffindor
students that would be ready to shoot spells as soon as they had the Slytherin
seeker in clear line of sight.
"Alfred! How could you decide to have a fight without us?" a voice called
across the field. The accent was French, but to Alfred it sounded like a chorus
of angels.
"That's not awesome at all!" Gilbert added.
The Slytherin trio rushed into the fight on their broomsticks, tossing spells
left and right. With their aerial advantage and extensive combat experience,
they laid waste to the opposing Quidditch team.
As shouts and spells flew around them, Alfred focused on Arthur, finally
noticing that the other boy had taken advantage of Alfred's distraction to
reclaim his wand. The smaller boy pulled back and rose unsteadily to his feet.
He pointed the wand at Alfred, then shook his head and lowered his arm. Alfred
pushed himself off the ground and stood up. They faced each other silently and
Alfred finally noticed that the silence had spread across the field.
He watched as Arthur fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands. He dimly
realized that a stray shot of the trio's new spell had struck the Gryffindor
boy. Alfred couldn't avert his gaze, even as Francis tugged on his elbow.
"We should leave before the teachers catch on," Francis murmured.
Alfred nodded. Arthur's sobs tugged at his heart—surely they meant that the
Gryffindor boy regretted their fight—but Alfred resisted the urge to rush
forward. He was beginning to realize that it was better if they went their
separate ways.
He gave Arthur one final look and then walked away.
Chapter End Notes
     Yep, the American Revolution happened on a muddy Quidditch field. I
     love America + BFT because the trio is composed of countries that
     sided with America during the Revolutionary War.
     Opprimendi Desperatio = terrible Latin for Crushing Despair. The best
     part about the HPverse is that spell names based on terrible Latin is
     canon. Bonus points if you recognize that I stole the spell name from
     D&D.
***** The New Prefect *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred receives an apology and a new title
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
"It's good that you're finally finished, Jones. I thought it would take you
forever to catch that snitch."
"Well, at least I don't need to rely on my team to distract the other seeker."
A surge of anger filled Arthur when he saw Alfred laughing and sauntering on
the rainy Quidditch field, acting like nothing had changed between them. He
didn't understand why Hogwarts teachers, who professed to treat all of their
students equally, had done nothing to punish Alfred for using a hateful and
evil slur.
"Did you think that was about winning? If you go around calling people
mudbloods you earned every single bloody bruise."
"I never said that."
If only the American would just call him a mudblood directly to his face,
Arthur knew he would finally be able to let go of his hopeless infatuation. But
the American had to gall to act confused and ignorant.
"Tell me why they didn't punish you!"
"Because I didn't do anything!"
Even as he pointed his wand at the other boy, Arthur knew that he wouldn't be
able to take his shot. On some level, Alfred seemed to know it too. The
American didn't reach for his wand to defend himself.
Terrible grief overwhelmed Arthur, pushing him to his knees. When he looked up
again, the other boy was gone, along with all of his hopes for ever reclaiming
their original friendship.
Unwilling to face his team, Arthur stumbled away from the field and sought
refuge in the one nearby place that he knew would be completely secure:
Silver's stall. He leaned against the unicorn foal, accepting her gentle
nuzzles as comfort. The dry straw felt warm beneath him, especially compared to
the rain outside. Flying Mint Bunny, sensing Arthur's distress, soon joined
them.
The overwhelming despair disappeared in the unicorn's presence (which told
Arthur that it was the result of a spell and not an acute attack of
depression), but Arthur could still feel an underlying sadness. He had been
wrong about Alfred. He had been so angry that no one was punishing the
Slytherin for calling another student a mudblood that he had decided to take
matters into his own hands. As a Prefect he had a duty to protect other
students, but he had let that duty drift into misguided vigilantism.
Arthur had cast the Veritas charm on Alfred before their fight on the Quidditch
field. Either Alfred was diabolical genius who had discovered a way to counter
the spell's effect or he was a well-meaning idiot. Arthur had to admit to
himself that the second choice was far more likely. Whatever Alfred had said
right before their second game, it wasn't a slur against Arthur's muggle
heritage.
The Gryffindor pet Silver's soft mane and then dried his eyes, delaying the
moment when he would have to go back, remove curses from his fellow team
members, and convince them that revenge wasn't the answer. But he knew he
couldn't wait long—his team would worry and jump to the wrong conclusions if he
just disappeared.
As Arthur expected, his team was a mess.
They cancelled practice for the day as they huddled in the locker room, sipping
cocoa and discussing their next move. To Arthur's surprise, the team
unanimously supported not reporting the incident to their professors. In
retrospect, it made sense that they didn't want to acknowledge that three
Slytherins chasers had taken down most of the Gryffindor team. And no one
wanted to admit how the trio's new spell made them cry uncontrollably. Arthur
saw a lot of red-rimmed eyes as he glanced around the benches.
"Let's get payback by defeating them in our next match," Arthur proposed. It
drew a weak cheer, but given recent events, he decided it was the best he could
hope for.
===============================================================================
Alfred wished it would stop raining. He liked bright blue skies, so each time
he glanced out his window and saw water falling from the sky, it felt
depressing. Even worse, the constant rain reminded him of Arthur.
It was unfair. It wasn't really his fault—okay, the yo momma joke had been his
fault, but the other stuff wasn't. And maybe Alfred had pushed the other boy a
bit, but he thought they were just kidding around. Arthur was the one who
decided to get mad and turn it into an all-out war on the Quidditch field.
Alfred was pretty sure that Arthur had disliked him before, but now he knew
that Arthur hated him. If only life had an undo button, he could go back and
fix everything.
The American perked up as he realized that creating an undo button was the
perfect solution to his Arthur problems. He'd never have to worry about saying
the wrong thing ever again because he could just go back and fix it. His plan
was so brilliant that he bounded out of his room to share it with someone so
they could praise his brilliance.
"...you mean like a time-turner?" Madeleine asked after Alfred laid out his
awesome plan for an invention to solve all his problems.
"What's that?" Alfred plopped down on the chair next to her. They had the
Slytherin lounge to themselves at the moment since most of the other students
had already left for dinner. Alfred wasn't sure if he was supposed to let other
students into the tower, but given that he was in Slytherin and people expected
him to break the rules, he decided that he might as well invite Madeleine over.
She made a small twisting motion with her hand, showing the approximate size of
the magical device. "They were lockets that let you travel back in time."
Alfred bounced in his seat. "Yes! That's perfect! Where can I get one?"
"You'd need to travel back in time, I'm afraid. They were all destroyed in
1996," she said with an apologetic shrug.
"Did they make more?" Alfred asked desperately.
"They're in the process, but I've heard it can take decades to make a new one."
"I can't wait decades!" Alfred complained. He could barely wait a few minutes.
Even Alfred recognized that patience, while a general virtue, wasn't one of his
virtues.
Madeleine laughed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Honestly,
Alfred, have you ever thought about trying to solve your problems with talking?
Saying sorry is quite easy, you know. I can even help you practice. Say it with
me: I'm soh-ry."
"Sah-ry."
"Soh-ry."
"Sah-ry."
The repeated it back and forth a few times, before Madeleine sighed and had to
give up on Alfred's pronunciation. "Nevermind, you're hopeless."
"Sah-ry," Alfred replied, ducking when Madeleine tossed a green-and-silver
pillow at him. He briefly considered starting a pillow fight, but it didn't
seem quite so much fun since he was still bummed out by the situation with
Arthur. He leaned back into his chair and sighed, disappointed that his
brilliant plan wasn't the solution he had hoped for.
They both glanced up as Francis opened the door to the lounge. Madeleine
suddenly grinned. "You know, if you want romantic advice, you should ask
Francis," she suggested.
The French boy glanced at her in surprise and then smiled. He took the seat
next to the Hufflepuff and slung his arm around her shoulders, causing her to
blush prettily. "It is true! I am a master of romance," he bragged.
The American looked at the other boy skeptically. He wasn't an expert, but he
was pretty sure that Arthur and Francis disliked each other. Even though they
had dated once (according to Madeleine), it seemed like their relationship had
ended poorly.
"I don't think he believes you," Madeleine said in a stage whisper.
"Perhaps you are right," Francis agreed. "It is too bad. I have a simple
solution. For cases like this, you just go up and kiss him."
"Do you think that'd work?" Madeleine asked curiously.
"Absolument."
"Il n'y a qu'une seule façon de le savoir," she said mischievously. Francis
blinked and replied with a fluid sentence of his native tongue, thrilled to
find someone who spoke the same musical language.
Alfred sighed and decided it was probably time to head for dinner because
neither of them were going to resume talking in English anytime soon.
===============================================================================
He found Gilbert and Antonio in the entrance hall.
"Guys, we have got to do something about that," Gilbert said, pointing to one
of the four giant hourglasses that kept track of house points. Each house
accumulated points when its students did good deeds, correctly answered
questions in class, or won Quidditch matches. The houses lost points for rule-
breaking. Normally students wanted to win the House Cup by collecting the most
points, but the Slytherin trio decided that if they weren't going to win, they
might as well lose spectacularly.
A few emeralds sat at the bottom of Slytherin's hourglass, showing that the
house had managed to move into the positives, after weeks of negative tallies.
If they weren't careful, they would end up tied with Hufflepuff, whose students
had a difficult time collecting points because professors tended to forget that
they even existed. (Although they also tended not to lose many points for the
same reason.) The Ravenclaw students did well at answering questions in class,
but occasionally lost points for 'being total smartarses.'
"Alfred, I told you to stop answering questions correctly in Potions class,"
Gilbert said.
Alfred rubbed the back of his head guiltily. "Dude, I gave a totally wrong
answer but the professor just laughed and added points for 'sheer cheek.' I'll
try to be wronger next time," he promised.
"I thought we would have lost mucho points after the Gryffindor team went home
crying," Antonio added with a confused tilt of his head.
Gilbert grinned. "I think we need to target the people who control the points.
What do you say we do something terrible to the Prefects' bathroom?"
"Si! Si!" Antonio agreed cheerfully.
"What's the Prefects' bathroom?" Alfred asked.
Gilbert gestured dramatically. "It's like the Shangri-La of bathrooms, dude.
It's filled with stained glass windows and awesome types of bubble bath.
Gilbird loves it, 'cause it's the best birdbath ever. Only Prefects and
Quidditch captains have the key, but locks can't stop the awesome Gil."
Alfred nodded excitedly, thinking that if they went at the right time they
could potentially catch Arthur in the bathroom which would be awesome and wait,
why had an image of Arthur suddenly popped into his head? Alfred had tried to
stop thinking about Arthur, but the more he tried to stop, the more the
Gryffindor boy filled his head.
"Alfred!" the head of Slytherin House called from the other side of the
entrance hall, waving him over. Alfred turned to face her, trying hard not to
think about Arthur covered in bubbles, and finding himself unable to wipe the
appealing mental image from his mind. He'd never seen Arthur with a come-hither
look, but he could still imagine it perfectly. He didn't notice as Antonio and
Gilbert slipped off.
The professor led Alfred back to her office in the dungeons near the potion
classroom. As he walked, he began to worry that he was going to be in trouble
for his fight with the Gryffindor team earlier that day. He hoped that she
wouldn't do anything drastic like kick him off the team. Quidditch was Alfred's
life.
He was so lost in his worried thoughts that it took Alfred a few seconds to
mentally process what the head of Slytherin House was telling him.
"You want me to be the Slytherin Prefect?" he asked in shock.
"Of course. We have a female Prefect already, but we haven't had a suitable
male candidate in awhile. Since you've done so well in potions and Quidditch I
thought you would be the natural choice."
Alfred nodded eagerly. Anything that increased his odds of seeing Arthur in a
bubble bath was definitely work it.
===============================================================================
The Prefects' bathroom was just as beautiful as Gilbert described. Alfred swore
he could hear a chorus of angels sing when he stepped onto the marble floors.
Splashes of vibrant color filled the room with colorful rays of sunshine
gleaming through the stained glass windows. Each window depicted beautiful
mermaids and mermen, with tails for every color of the rainbow.
One of the mermen actually looked like Arthur, having the same his thick
eyebrows and brilliant green eyes. He had a slender, smooth body and a bright
green tail, matching the color of his eyes. Alfred stepped closer to the
window, hoping to get a better view. As he leaned in, the merman winked. Alfred
was so shocked that he slipped and fell backwards into the pool, still fully
clothed. He struggled briefly, then heard a splash as another body entered the
water and two lithe arms helped him to the surface.
The water on Alfred's glasses made it difficult for him to make out the shape
in front of him. He could tell the other person was blond and a boy... and had
a bright green tail.
Alfred gaped.
"You're not supposed to wear clothes in the bath," a voice that sounded
remarkably like Arthur said seductively.
"Shall I help you take them off?" the merman asked.
The merman removed Alfred's clothes with no resistance. Alfred was still trying
to understand how Arthur had turned into a merman. Was it some sort of kinky
spell? Francis had hinted that Arthur was extremely kinky beneath his straight-
laced exterior, but Alfred had never imagined that the other boy was into
mermen. Then again, Alfred had never imagined that he was interested in mermen,
but judging by his body's reaction, he found the other boy incredibly
attractive.
"These have always been very fascinating to me," Arthur said. "Do you mind if I
take a closer look?" he asked. When Alfred didn't answer, Arthur slipped his
hand between Alfred's legs, drawing a moan of pleasure from the American's
lips. With a grin, the merman ducked his head under water and Alfred wondered
what the other boy was doing until he suddenly realized that the merman planned
to suck him underwater. Arthur began with a gentle back-and-forth motion, like
soft ripples on a small pond, but soon built up to crashing waves. Just as
Alfred crested, the dream popped like a bubble.
He felt hot and feverish and decided to spend the rest of day in bed. After
that wet dream, he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to face Arthur again.
===============================================================================
As a gentleman, Arthur knew that he ought to apologize to Alfred for his
accusations, but he could find neither hide nor hair of the other boy. They
didn't pass each other in the hallway and Alfred skipped Charms (the only class
they shared). Arthur continued his usual study sessions in the library with
Kiku, hoping that Alfred would join them. The Slytherin student never appeared,
but his Hufflepuff friend did.
She dropped a book in front of Arthur—Blood Bigotry Through the Ages—and opened
it to a marked page. "Read this," she said, pointing to a section on the use of
blood slurs around the world. It explained that immigration patterns in North
America meant few witches or wizards could trace their lineage for more than
few generations. As a result, wizarding social classes were based on wealth,
rather than blood purity.
"Mud clumps. He was talking about mud clumps," she explained. "He didn't even
know what the m-word was, until I explained it to him."
Arthur looked up from the book and could see in her eyes that Madeleine was
willing to rant at him for at least three hours. "I know," he admitted, cutting
off her planned speech.
She crossed her arms. "Well, I think you ought to tell that to Alfred."
"How, exactly? If you haven't noticed, he's been avoiding me."
"I can tell you where he'll be at 3 o'clock tomorrow," she offered.
Arthur frowned slightly, unsure why she was willing to divulge Alfred's
location, but glad that he would finally have a chance to speak with the other
boy one-on-one. "I thought you were Alfred's friend," he murmured.
"I am. He hasn't left his room for days and I'm getting sick of it. In fact, I
tried to lure him out with pancakes, and he actually said no," she whispered to
Arthur and Kiku in the horrified tones of a true maple-syrup lover.
"My goodness," Arthur dryly replied, hiding his genuine distress at the thought
that he'd pushed the socialable Slytherin to become a shut-in. "How do you know
he'll decide to come out tomorrow?" he asked out of curiosity.
"Oh, he said he'd be done with his new video game by lunch tomorrow," Madeleine
admitted, adding, "If nothing else, I'm pretty sure he'll run out of snacks by
then."
Arthur sighed and suddenly didn't feel quite so guilty knowing that Alfred was
sitting in his room playing video games instead of moping.
The Gryffindor student finished his homework and then pulled out a fresh page
of parchment for the letter he didn't want to write. He was sick of his aunt
sending him a continuous stream of howlers because he had refused to put his
cousin Peter on the Quidditch team. Arthur would have made the exact same
decision to keep Peter off the team even if his cousin was the best player on
earth, but fortunately, he hadn't faced a difficult decision. His annoying
cousin, like most first years, was simply not a very good player.
Unfortunately, his aunt's howlers complaining about that decision were becoming
increasingly annoying and Arthur intended to do something about it.
===============================================================================
Dear Aunt and Uncle,
From now on, all of your owls are being routed through the headmaster's office.
I have spoken with him and he agreed that the howlers were becoming a
disruption to the school. Please do not attempt to contact me unless it is an
emergency.
If you do not want to draw the headmaster's ire, I suggest you stop sending
letters. As I have carefully explained to Peter, he is not good enough for the
Quidditch team and should continue practicing if he wants a position next year.
He would have a better chance if he wasn't a whiny, spoiled brat who thinks he
is entitled to a position (the inevitable result of your disastrous attempt at
parenting).
You should also be aware that first-years are not allowed to have broomsticks,
so the Headmaster has confiscated your gift to Peter.
Sincerely,
Arthur
===============================================================================
The next day, Alfred snuck out to the Quidditch field after his afternoon
class. If he could get in some extra practicing, then he'd be able to beat
Arthur at their next game. They were 1-to-1 at the moment, so the next game
would tip the balance. Recruiters for professional Quidditch teams only
attended the final match of the year, making it imperative that Slytherin be in
the top two if Alfred wanted a chance to get scouted.
The American practiced some speed drills first, enjoying the sunny day. He
loved the feeling of freedom on a broomstick. He knew why humans had always
dreamed of flight. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.
After he warmed up racing back and forth across the field, Alfred pulled out
the training snitch and set the timer to 30 minutes. With every nerve on high
alert, he scanned the field, following the standard back-cross grid pattern.
Alfred spotted the snitch in the lower left corner of the field, but it dodged
out of his way before he could reach it. He needed to be better about sneaking
up on the snitch, the way Arthur had captured it during the Ravenclaw/
Gryffindor game.
"Are you looking for this?" a crisp British voice asked from the sidelines.
Shivers ran up Alfred's spine. Was he just imagining it, or was Arthur actually
trying to sound seductive?
The Slytherin turned and gawked. Arthur was riding his broom side-saddle with
his legs crossed delicately at the ankles. He held the training snitch in one
hand and a porcelain cup of tea in the other. Alfred picked his jaw off the
ground and flew forward, accepting the offered snitch as he hovered next to
Arthur.
Alfred grinned, recognizing an opportunity to restart their enjoyable insult-
battles (this time without yo momma jokes). He missed trading wits with Arthur.
"Huh. So you can catch a snitch." It was weak, but he was out of practice.
"I think you'll find that our first game was an aberration."
Alfred shivered at the thought of apparitions. "I ain't afraid of no ghosts!"
he quickly replied, his own personal motto when faced with the specter of
specters.
"What?" Arthur asked, completely puzzled by the non sequitur.
An awkward silence settled over them as Arthur worked up the courage to
apologize. He coughed, clearing his throat, and finally said, "I'm... terribly
sorry about last week. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
Alfred blinked, then slowly smiled as comprehension dawned and left a warm
feeling in his stomach. "Hey, it's no big deal. Franny, Toni, and Gil can't
stop bragging. They're actually sad they didn't lose our house points for it.
We're barely in the negatives, y'know."
Arthur chuckled. "You'd best be careful. If you weren't so good for their
Quidditch team, they'd be upset that you keep earning house points in Potions
class. And, uh, congratulations on becoming Prefect."
The Slytherin seeker nodded absent-mindedly. He'd been thinking of ways to
ensure victory in their next Quidditch match, and his best idea thus far came
from Francis, who had suggested betting with Arthur on the outcome of the third
match. (Francis had also proposed certain... very Francis-like terms, but
Alfred wasn't planning to take that suggestion.)
"Hey Kirkland, what do you say we make things interesting by having a little
wager on the match?"
Arthur arched an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well..." Alfred said, grinning as he drew out the word in a playful manner, "I
was thinking you could wear Slytherin colors for a whole day if I win."
"Hmm. Very well, I propose that if my team wins—and we will—you'll have to pay
for my celebratory drinks," Arthur counter-offered.
Alfred nodded. "Deal."
They shook hands.
"I think you'll find I have the better end of our bargain, Jones," Arthur said
with a mischievous smirk. "You've never seen how much I can drink." He placed
one hand on his broom, before flying off, still holding his cup of tea.
The American grinned back; he'd happily pay just about anything to see Arthur
get drunk, so it would be a win either way. Of course, he still wanted to win,
but nothing stopped him from offering to buy Arthur drinks anyway. He was
starting to think that his odds with Arthur weren't quite so hopeless after
all...
A few minutes later, the training snitch that Alfred had originally been
chasing returned to his hand, having reached the end of its timer. He stared at
the two training snitches in confusion, before realizing that Arthur hadn't
caught a snitch. He had just grabbed the other training snitch, to make Alfred
think that he had. The American grinned.
"Very sneaky, Arthur. How... Slytherin of you."
No matter who won at their third match-up, Alfred couldn't wait to see what
happened afterward.
Chapter End Notes
     Yep, America's isolation period lasted a few days and involved video
     games and snack food.
     This should be the last of the dream make-out sessions. Only real
     snogging from now on!
***** Broom Mischief *****
Chapter Summary
     Arthur gets drunk and accepts an invitation.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Luck was with Alfred on the day of the Gryffindor/Slytherin match, at least as
far as the weather was concerned. It was about as sunny and warm as one could
expect for early December in Great Britain. Alfred was just glad there wasn't
any snow. Spotting the golden snitch became immensely difficult when combined
with snow glare.
The American pulled on his leather gloves, silently thanking his parents for
buying him ones with a special warming charm. Mittens were warm, but made it
difficult to get a good grip on the snitch.
Alfred nodded at Arthur as they both took the field, but he decided to avoid
any sort of pre-game taunt. He'd definitely learned that lesson.
The Slytherin seeker didn't have a particular plan for this game. Just speed
and luck and the determination to be the best Quidditch player at Hogwarts. He
liked to fly by the speed of his pants—he found that his unpredictability made
it difficult for the other team.
As he took to the sky, Alfred began an easy loop of the field, watching
carefully for any sight of the golden snitch. The two teams played roughly, and
the referees had to call a number of fouls, awarding penalty points for
egregious examples of blagging, blatching, and blurting. Alfred dodged a few
bludgers, but felt that the majority of the attention was on the three
Slytherin chasers.
The American had tried other positions on the Quidditch team, but he loved
Seeker best. It was almost always his actions that determined who won or lost
the game (since the 150 points gained from catching the snitch dwarfed the 10
points for each quaffle sent through one of the three hoops). In other words,
he was the Quidditch hero.
Alfred adored Quidditch because it brought together his two great loves: flying
around and sport. Turning broomstick flight into a sport was a brilliant idea.
Having searched the upper area of the stadium, the American dived back into the
flurry of action below. Sometimes the snitch liked to hide near other players,
making it more difficult to spot.
Alfred crossed paths with Arthur a few times and he noticed that the other
seeker seemed to be having trouble controlling his broomstick. The Gryffindor's
normally fluid movements had turned jerky. Some of the older broomsticks became
less responsive as they aged. Alfred frowned. It didn't seem fair to win
because he had the newest and fastest model of broom, but there wasn't anything
he could do about it now.
He could just give Arthur a new broomstick, though the other boy would probably
reject the present. He didn't think that Arthur hated him, but accepting a gift
from your rival would be pretty awkward. The division between their two houses
didn't help.
As he passed by Arthur's position again, Alfred suddenly spotted the snitch
flying behind Arthur, just outside the other boy's reach. His excited glance
caused the Gryffindor seeker to peer over his shoulder, and Alfred knew he had
only a second to lunge forward and grab it before Arthur did. The British boy
tried to maneuver his broom closer, but his broomstick sputtered for a moment,
hovered in mid-air, and then began to plummet.
Alfred felt his stomach plummet too, but he reacted instinctively. He darted
forward on his own broom and grabbed the smaller boy from behind. For a second
he thought that Arthur would slip from his grasp, but he tightened his arm and
pulled up just before they hit the ground. Alfred dragged his feet along the
grass to pull to a stop. They both rolled off the broom onto the ground, Alfred
with one arm still wrapped around Arthur.
"Arthur?" he asked, as he pulled himself off the other boy.
"I-I… did I just see that?" the announcer stammered, and for once, felt silent.
The stadium also reacted with shocked silence before the murmurs began.
"I'm fine," Arthur reassured him before climbing unsteadily to his feet. "It
was... an old broomstick." His teammates crowded around their seeker, pushing
Alfred away. One of the Gryffindor chasers glared at Alfred as he tried to get
back to Arthur's side.
Alfred blinked in confusion. He wasn't expecting flowers and chocolates, but a
little bit of recognition would be nice. He was pretty sure he had
singlehandedly saved their seeker from serious injury. (He would have done it
anyway, but Alfred liked receiving public praise, and thought he deserved
some.)
Two of Arthur's teammates escorted the Gryffindor seeker to the nurse, before
Alfred had a chance to say anything to the other boy. The referees examined
Arthur's broom and declared that it had been hexed, although they couldn't
identify the source of the spell. The fans in the stadium reacted with outrage.
"Sorry, folks, it looks like the refs have decided to cancel this game until
they can figure out the source of interference," the announcer explained. "But
we all know it was the Slytherins."
The stadium cheered in approval when the refs announced that the scores for the
game wouldn't count. Slytherin had been leading by 30 points, but the referees
decided it was unfair to allow them to accumulate points from the game when the
situation appeared to be the result of sabotage.
The American clenched his fist, torn between the desire to yell in the
referee's face and his need to find Arthur and hug the other boy, just to
reassure himself that Arthur really was okay. He let Francis pull him away
before he did something stupid like punch someone in the face. Unlike
Madeleine, he wasn't good with invisibility charms.
Alfred did punch one of the lockers, leaving a small dent in the metal as a
result. He felt angry and helpless at the idea that someone had messed with
Arthur's broom, putting the Gryffindor seeker in serious danger. The reality of
the danger was starting to sink in. If Alfred hadn't been so close, if he
hadn't reacted so quickly... he didn't know what would have happened. The
referees could cast a spell to levitate students before they hit the ground,
but sometimes the falls happened too quickly.
"Mon ami, don't take your frustration out on the locker," Francis said.
"It wasn't anyone on our team... was it?" Alfred asked, surveying the room for
any sign of guilt. Everyone shook their head.
Gilbert laughed. "Hell no. Hexing a broom? Totally not awesome."
"Do you remember that time we put a leg-locker curse on Arthur and he had to
hop from the Gryffindor tower to the dining hall like a bunny?" Antonio
reminisced.
"Now that was awesome."
Once the surge of anger passed, Alfred leaned against his locker and tried to
identify the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't really felt
anything when it happened—he had just acted. Now he wanted to hug Arthur, but
even Alfred realized that the Gryffindor's teammates probably weren't going to
let that happen. Even worse, the cancelled match meant that neither of them had
won the wager.
"You know what we need?" Gilbert slapped his hand against the bench. "Beer."
"That's your solution for everything," Francis replied. But he still agreed,
and so did Alfred. A distraction sounded like a good idea.
===============================================================================
Arthur needed a distraction. The nurse kept hovering over him, insisting that
he should be treated for shock. Arthur knew the proper treatment for shock—a
stiff shot of whiskey. He doubted he would get that sort of treatment in the
nurse's office. He waited until a herbology student staggered into the room
covered in thorns, and then Arthur made his escape, stealthily ducking and
weaving until he reached the door.
The next step of his plan involved finding a broomstick. Although the seventh-
year student had his apparition license, it was impossible to apparate out of
Hogwarts. Given recent events, his own broom wasn't an option. Arthur grinned
when he realized that his aunt and uncle's gift to Peter would be the perfect
substitute. As the Gyffindor Prefect, he knew that the broom was being stored
in the north tower. In fact, he had placed it there himself. Acting
nonchalantly, Arthur walked through the hallways until he reached the staircase
for the north tower. After ensuring that no one was around, he gave the correct
password and slipped into the tower room.
The sun had already begun to set, giving Arthur the cover of darkness as he
made his escape from the north tower. The nurse would assume he went back to
the Gryffindor dorms, his housemates would assume that he was in the nurse's
office, and no one would know where he really was. A muggle pub.
===============================================================================
Ditching their robes in favor of normal teenager clothing, the four Slytherin
boys snuck out of their dormitory windows later that evening—four dark shapes
flying across the night sky. After a short flight, they landed near a small
village and hid their broomsticks behind a shack. The village looked
surprisingly mundane.
Alfred glanced around. "Hey, guys? This doesn't look like Hogsmeade."
"It isn't," Francis replied. "Hogsmeade bars would recognize Hogwarts students
breaking curfew, not to mention, the pubs in Hogsmeade only serve Butterbeer.
It is easy to fool muggles with magically-crafted fake IDs and purchase real
drinks."
Francis pushed open the door and sauntered up to the counter, the other three
students following closely behind. Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert ordered drinks
like the old pros that they were. Alfred took longer to look at the menu before
deciding to get a coke. He defended his choice on the basis that soda was
obviously the best drink ever and he couldn't get any of it at Hogwarts.
A quick glance to the side revealed a surprisingly familiar, blond head sitting
at the end of the bar. Alfred elbowed Francis. "Hey, what's Arthur doing here?"
he asked in surprise. He remembered his wager (although he was pretty sure
neither of them had actually won that particular bet), but he didn't think
Arthur would be up for drinking after his near plummet. He was surprised Arthur
had even been able to escape the nurse's room. She could be very strict about
proper medical care.
Francis smiled. "Looking to unwind, would be my guess. We have a truce with
Arthur here. He doesn't report us and we don't report him."
Hearing his name, Arthur turned to face them and sighed into his glass. "Of all
the pubs, in all the world, they had to walk into mine."
"Come on, Kirkland, it's not your pub," Alfred replied as he took the closest
stool, trying to hide his excitement when he realized that drunken Arthur was
still on the menu. Screw soda, he wanted to discover if the Gryffindor was a
secret party animal.
"It was a reference to… you know what? Never you mind. Let's get drunk." Arthur
tossed back a good portion of his drink, putting his words into action.
"Don't worry, that won't take him long," Gilbert said with a laugh.
To Alfred's surprise, the three Slytherins took their drinks to a table on the
other side of the pub and started playing darts. Apparently they were serious
about having a truce with the Gryffindor Prefect and leaving him alone as they
all drank in peace.
The American tried to look at the Gryffindor student without making his
attention obvious. His mouth felt dry from seeing Arthur in black jeans and a
t-shirt. Whoever designed the Hogwarts robes needed to be fired because they
did nothing to show off Arthur's trim legs and lean form. Alfred suddenly
wished he had put more thought into his own clothing choices, instead of just
grabbing a t-shirt off the pile.
"So... is everything... okay?" Alfred asked. He'd been worried ever since they
trundled Arthur off, but the older boy seemed none the worse for wear.
Arthur glanced up from his glass. "Of course. It was just a bit of a fright,
that's all." He frowned slightly and turned back to face his drink. "Why'd you
do it?" he asked softly. "You were so close to the snitch."
Alfred sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Come on, dude. It's not like
our house motto is 'Slytherin: We Kick Puppies for Fun.' I happen to think that
stopping someone from falling forty feet is a little more important than
catching the snitch."
Now maybe wasn't the right time to add that there was no way in the world that
Alfred would ever let Arthur get hurt if there was something he could do to
prevent it. They were still in a not-quite-friends-sorta-rivals category and he
didn't want to upset their fragile balance.
The American finished his coke in silence and ordered a second. He watched out
of the corner of his eye as Arthur finished his rum in record time. Another
glass soon followed. They each ordered glasses at the same time, beginning an
unofficial drinking contest. Alfred wondered if he should mention that he was
drinking a plain coke, no rum added. It seemed a bit unfair, but he did have a
reputation to uphold as a sneaky Slytherin.
===============================================================================
Arthur had a brilliant plan.
He would get the Slytherin seeker ridiculously drunk and then the boy would
spill all of his secrets. Arthur still needed to make sure the American was gay
or at least a bit bi-curious, so around drink three, he tried some flirting. It
worked marvelously. By drink four, Arthur decided that they were perfect for
each other and Alfred was the most attractive person he had ever met and they
were going to get married and adopt some cats and live a life of sickening
sweetness and steamy sex.
After finishing drink five, Arthur still felt sober, because of his amazing
tolerance for alcohol, but he realized that Alfred was starting to give him
strange looks and had stopped flirting back. He even had the audacity to
suggest that Arthur might want to stop drinking, laughing a bit about light-
weight Brits. Arthur could hold his liquor better than some American punk! He
decided that Alfred was actually a huge jerk and a tease for tugging on his
heartstrings and then acting clueless when Arthur tried to give him a hint or
two or ten.
===============================================================================
"I dun get it." Arthur drunkenly complained. "You confuz... confuddle me. One
minute, nice. Next minute, jerk. Why are the handsome ones always jocks...
jerks? 's not fair."
Alfred grinned as he sipped his coke. Arthur flickered through different moods
like a kaleidoscope, going from flirtatious to maudlin to grumpy within
heartbeats. He seemed to have settled on 'honest drunk' for the moment, so
Alfred prodded Arthur for more information, which the Gryffindor drunkenly
provided.
"You got a nice face and you fly like a… like a really good flyer person. But
's not fair 'cause you're a prat. The good looking ones are always prats." The
smaller blond took another sip from his glass. He stared into the liquid, as if
looking for answers to all of life's questions, and then tipped back the drink,
finishing every last drop.
The American frowned. "You still haven't told me what a prat is."
Arthur scowled. "You're a prat! And a sneak. Sneaky as a wossname… a
Slitherman..."
"Oh come on, Artie, our first game was just a game."
"Excuse me, lad. Is your friend okay?" the bartender asked.
Alfred laughed. "Oh yeah, he's fine! He always gets like this." The American
ordered enough coke and slurped it down. He was happy that Arthur found him
attractive. Who knew that alcohol could work better than a Veritas charm? It
was too bad that Arthur was too drunk for Alfred to even think about doing
anything other than making sure Arthur got back to the dorms safely.
He glanced over at the English boy. With his glazed eyes and flushed face, the
shorter blond had clearly passed merely drunk and was now to the point of
completely smashed. His eyelids stayed permanently half-closed and his green
eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. It was actually a bit of surprise that he
hadn't already passed out on the floor amidst the pools of spilled drinks.
As Alfred started to wonder if he should suggest that they stop drinking while
Arthur was still upright, the drunken boy stumbled off his stool and leaned
close to Alfred. The smell of rum hung in the air between them, adding to the
tense atmosphere. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned forward. The
American held his breath in anticipation, but the English boy swayed
dangerously and sprawled across Alfred's lap.
Unbalanced by the extra weight, Alfred gripped the bar counter with one hand
and steadied Arthur with the other. Once they were in no immediate danger of
sliding off the stool and landing in a pile on the floor, he lifted Arthur to a
mostly standing position and wrapped Arthur's arm around his neck. Alfred
walked over to his friends, supporting most of Arthur's weight as the
Gryffindor stumbled along, leaning against the larger boy.
"Guys! I think Arthur's done for the night," Alfred explained as he readjusted
his grip on the other boy's waist. "I'm gonna head back."
They glanced up and laughed at the inebriated Gryffindor. Despite being three
sheets to the wind, Arthur managed to slur out a few insults at the 'bloody
wankers.' After he finished his insults, he slumped further to the side and his
head lolled against Alfred's shoulder. Alfred didn't know it was possible to
pass out while still standing upright, but the Gryffindor had somehow managed
it.
"I think he was done three drinks ago," Francis corrected.
"Kesesese, what a lightweight."
"Have fun taking him back!" Antonio cheerfully added.
Alfred nodded. All he needed to do was figure out how to carry two people on
two broomsticks, when one of those people was completely wasted. He slung
Arthur across his shoulders and walked to the front of the bar.
"Hey, got some duct tape?" Alfred asked the bartender after he paid for their
drinks.
===============================================================================
Two brooms duct taped together provided a surprisingly stable ride. He placed
Arthur in front of him and kept one arm firmly wrapped around the smaller
wizard to hold him steady. Aside from a bit of puking early on, Arthur seemed
content to hold on to the broomstick for dear life and keep his eyes tightly
closed. He stayed mostly conscious for the entire ride, responding to Alfred's
questions with rambling rants.
"So how come you can see magical creatures that other wizards can't?"
"Fairies don't care if you can't do magic, they show up if you bell... believe.
My mum was a muggle and she could always see fairies. Stupid wizards always
don't they know everything about magic but they think." The smaller boy
sniffled and Alfred, fearing that Arthur had gone back from ranting drunk to
maudlin drunk, pulled him a little closer and tried to come up with something
distracting. He spotted Hogwarts castle in the distance and grinned.
"Hey, Artie, I can see Hogwarts now," Alfred said, glad that he'd found the way
back on his own. Some of these mountains and lakes looked remarkably similar.
And Arthur, who kept alternately ranting and nodding off, wasn't providing much
in the way of navigational assistance.
Alfred had spent some time thinking about what to do with the wasted
Gryffindor, and he decided the easiest course of action would be to let Arthur
sleep it off in the Slytherin dormitory so he wouldn't get in trouble for being
drunk and breaking curfew. The advantage to being the only sixth year Slytherin
boy was that Alfred got his own room. With a little skillful flying, Alfred
managed to open his dormitory window, steer them both inside, and drop Arthur
directly onto one of the empty beds.
The American untaped the broomsticks and leaned them against the wall. He
wasn't sure where Arthur had gotten a new broomstick so quickly, until he
checked the name and saw that it actually said "Peter Kirkland." The Slytherin
grinned at the mental image of Arthur stealing his cousin's broomstick in order
to go drinking.
"Some Prefect you are," he said laughingly to the other boy, who didn't respond
from his sprawled-out position on the spare bed.
Alfred tripped over a few piles of clothing and pulled open the dresser, hoping
to find the magical first aid kit his mother had packed. He pulled out the box
and created a small light with his wand, just enough to help him locate the
bezoar—the stonelike mass was able to cure most poisons, including alcohol
poisoning.
Alfred bent down next to the spare bed and shook Arthur by the shoulder. "Hey,
Artie? Artie?" he said. It took awhile before he got any response, but
eventually, green eyes blinked at him and tried to focus on his face.
Arthur didn't show any signs of comprehension in his blurry eyes, but he
managed to swallow the bezoar when Alfred popped it into his mouth. It wouldn't
do anything for his hangover in the morning, but at least Alfred wouldn't have
to worry about the other boy vomiting during the night. He removed Arthur's
shoes and slipped a pillow under the Gryffindor's head. The boy blinked at him
owlishly before passing out on the pillow.
"I was right. You do know how to party," Alfred said with a laugh, as he
gratefully slipped into his own bed. It had been a good night. Drunken Arthur
was hilarious and could curse like a sailor. Plus, Alfred was now pretty sure
that Arthur liked him back. And with that pleasant thought in his mind, Alfred
fell asleep.
===============================================================================
Alfred wasn't a creeper or anything, but he decided that Arthur looked really
cute sprawled out on the bed, a bit of drool escaping from the corner of his
mouth, his sandy-blond hair spread out across the pillow. Alfred tried to keep
quiet as he moved around the room, giving the other boy a chance to sleep in,
and hopefully sleep through the worst of his hangover. The American had a plan
for reducing the side-effects of the previous night's binge, but he needed some
coffee first.
Francis (who had limited himself to a few glasses of wine) was awake and more
than willing to use his French press to make Alfred a cup of coffee. Antonio
and Gilbert weren't faring quite as well since they had made the mistake of
discovering 'red beer' the night before. Tomato juice added to beer produced a
red-tinted drink that both boys found utterly irresistible.
"How is mon lapin?" Francis asked playfully as he handed a cup of coffee to
Alfred.
The American shrugged. "He's still sleeping."
Alfred thought that Francis was about to say something else, but Gilbert chose
that moment to get up and start cursing, so Alfred climbed the stairs back down
to his own room, coffee cup in hand. He set the cup on the table, added a
careful measure from one of the potion bottles he kept on the dresser, and
pulled out some of his comic books to pass the time as he waited for Arthur to
wake up.
Ever since he made his first potion with a children's kit that his parents had
given him at age 7, Alfred had enjoyed experimenting with different potions.
Sometimes the results were a bit... explosive, but as he'd grown older he had
become more interested in designing his own recipes. It had required a lot of
trial and error, but Alfred thought he had designed an antidote for the common
hangover. Antonio and Francis claimed it worked, but they also claimed that
drinking more beer the next day cured a hangover, so Alfred was a little
dubious.
He turned around as he heard movement from the other bed. Arthur had hidden
himself under a sheet and was cursing the light. Alfred set down his comics and
walked over. He pulled the sheet open and pushed the coffee cup into Arthur's
hands. "Here ya go."
Arthur stared at the cup suspiciously.
"It's coffee." Alfred reclaimed the cup and took a sip himself before handing
it back to Arthur. "Luke-warm, but still good."
Arthur complained about the bitter taste and tepid temperature, but managed to
finish off the entire cup. Color returned to his face and he looked
significantly less peaky. He straightened his clothes and tried to fix his hair
in the mirror, though his efforts still left him with a wrinkled shirt and a
bad case of bed-head. Alfred smiled, seeing that his anti-hangover coffee was
having its intended effect. It was good to know that it wasn't just Antonio and
Gilbert's imagination.
"I'm in the Slytherin dormitory, aren't I?" Arthur asked as he glanced around
the room.
"Yeah, it's pretty sweet. I got a whole room to myself because there aren't any
other sixth year boys." Alfred had taken advantage of having his own room to
spread his stuff across every surface area in the room. It was a mess, but
Alfred had always lived by the philosophy that a clean room was the sign of a
deranged mind. Judging by the state of his room, he was the sanest person on
earth.
The Gryffindor student crossed the room—frowning as he stepped over piles of
dirty clothing—and leaned against Alfred's desk. "No, let me try asking that
again. Why am I in the Slytherin dormitory?"
"Well, you were pretty drunk, and I wasn't sure how people would react if I
dumped you into the Gryffindor common room."
"You don't even know the password."
"Sure I do. It's 'tiddlywinks.' You mentioned it last night. You said that I
quote better bloody deliver you to the right castle because there were too many
of them in whales."
"Wales?"
Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, it didn't make sense to me either."
Arthur frowned, trying to piece together a coherent narrative from his jumbled
memories. God, it wasn't fair that the amount of alcohol Arthur needed to work
up the courage to kiss Alfred was the same as the amount that caused him to
pass out. He remembered the drinking contest with Alfred, his initial attempts
to flirt with the other boy, and stumbling off the stool after making the
decision to just kiss Alfred. Everything after that was a blacked out blur,
although it must have included a broomstick ride back to Hogwarts.
As soon as he thought of his broomstick, Arthur scanned the room to make sure
that the American had remembered to bring back Arthur's broom, in addition to
Arthur himself. The broom leaned against the wall—leading Arthur to realize
that they had actually flown directly into the dormitory. At least that solved
the puzzle of how he was going to leave the Slytherin dorm without anyone
realizing that he had spent the night.
Francis knocked on the door and tossed a set of robes to Arthur. He reacted to
Arthur's shocked stare with a sly grin. "You'll have to change the colors, but
I thought Alfred's would be a bit big, non?"
"Thank you," Arthur replied civilly, like the gentleman that he aspired to be,
but he surreptitiously checked the robes for itching powder or a stinging hex.
When he found nothing, he slipped them on and changed the colors from green to
red. At least now he could return to his room with none the wiser. Arthur had
some idea of how many questions and comments he would face if his fellow
Gryffindors thought he was fraternizing with his rivals.
Francis grabbed the anti-hangover bottle from the dresser and winked at Alfred.
"Gilbert wants to try the 'ultimate' hangover cure by combining your potion
with beer. It should be quite amusing, non?" he explained.
"Hey, great. Let me know if it causes any explosions," Alfred replied. He
hadn't bothered testing the potion when mixed with alcohol ('cause really, who
thought of mixing an anti-hangover potion with alcohol?), so it'd be useful to
see if it still worked.
Francis paused at the door and glanced back with a quick flip of his wavy hair.
"And you two should let me know if you change your mind about that ménage à
trois," he said lightly, and then he was gone.
"Not bloody likely," Arthur muttered under his breath.
"So... you and Francis, what's up with that?" Alfred asked, waggling his
eyebrows.
Arthur crossed his arms and shook his head. "No. I am far too hungover to feel
like dealing with your impertinent questions."
Alfred grinned. "Really? You don't seem hungover at all to me." He was rather
pleased with how well the potion had worked. Arthur was acting like his normal,
grumpy self, instead of someone who couldn't handle loud noises or light.
"Fine then, I'm too sober for your impertinent questions."
Alfred mentally kicked himself, wishing he had thought to ask about Francis
while Arthur was drunk and talkative. He really wanted to know what was going
on between those two. At his disappointed look, Arthur's expression softened.
The Gryffindor sat back down on the bed, carefully looking at anything except
Alfred.
"Look, it's complicated. He's bi, I'm gay. The choices are rather limited here
and... it seemed like a good idea at the time."
The American nodded in agreement. He too had given in to his share of things
that seemed like good ideas at the time. The extra hamburger or extra bowl of
ice cream always seemed like a good idea at the time. He crossed the room and
sat down on the bed across from Arthur.
"Yeah, I can understand that. There was this Russian kid at my school. I used
to accuse him of being a commie, but when we got into fights... it was actually
kinda hot. When we started dating the whole school did a double take."
Arthur made a choking noise and Alfred guessed from the shocked look on
Arthur's face that the Gryffindor didn't remember their flirting from the
previous night. He hoped that the flirting was Arthur's actual feelings and not
just drunken horniness.
The Gryffindor tightened his grip on the bed sheets and glanced down. "Same
here. All of Hogwarts acted like we were insane when Francis and I started
meeting at Hogsmeade for dates. One of my roommates actually thought I'd been
confounded," he admitted.
"That sucks."
"Mmm," Arthur murmured in agreement.
Alfred made a sudden decision. "Hey, Arthur, are you spending Christmas with
your aunt and uncle?" he asked.
Arthur looked up, surprised by the abrupt change of topic. "No, of course not."
"My folks are coming to London for the holidays. They're renting a house and
it's got a few extra bedrooms. They said I could bring a friend and I was
wondering... if you'd like to come?" the American asked hopefully.
"I... that's very kind of you to offer..." Arthur began to reply in his
'gentlemanly' tone. Alfred could hear the 'but' coming from a mile away, and
decided to interject before Arthur could reject his offer.
"You could show me around London as a thank you present for saving your life
and then bringing you back to the dorms when you got super wasted," the
American said quickly.
"I have an amazing tolerance and you didn't save my life," Arthur retorted,
though even Alfred could tell that it was an automatic response—Arthur was too
proud to admit that he needed help from anyone. And definitely too proud to
admit that he couldn't handle more than a few shots of alcohol.
Alfred leaned forward. "Oh yeah, did they figure out who hexed your
broomstick?"
After their night of drinking, the American had forgotten about his anger at
the saboteur who caused the near-calamity on the Quidditch field. Now he wanted
to find that person and give them a serious piece of his mind (and maybe a
punch or two). Nobody threatened Arthur and got away with it.
Arthur shook his head. "Not yet, but I have a suspect in mind."
"Really? Well how about you grab your deerstalker cap and I can get my scooby
snacks and we'll go solve the mystery!"
Arthur chuckled dryly. "Honestly, Alfred. If you think that you going around
asking about the hexed broomstick is going to cause anything other than
trouble, you've still got a lot to learn about Hogwarts."
And with that, Arthur stood up, grabbed his broomstick, and opened the window.
He paused, turning back to face Alfred. "I haven't lived in London for some
time, but if you're willing to put up with my limited knowledge, I'd be happy
to show you the city."
"Great!" Alfred waved excitedly as he watched Arthur leave. And for the rest of
the day, nothing could wipe the happy grin from his face.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
See you in two weeks! This is going to be the best Christmas ever.
Love,
Alfred
Chapter End Notes
     Gosh, I'm such a liar. I never planned for Gryffindor to win and I
     always planned for Arthur to get drunk. And still no kiss. (This is
     why I like to write the dream make-out sessions, to give my dear
     readers a little something to tide you over while these two idiots
     take their sweet time realizing how perfect they are for each other.)
     Sorry, England, looks like your plan to get America stinking drunk
     and coax information out of him failed just as badly as it did in
     canon :)
***** Hogwarts Express *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred huffed. "All this time I thought 'prat' meant something really
     terrible and you've just been saying that I'm an idiot?" he
     complained.
     "Rather proves the point, doesn't it?"
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The train ride back to London felt a little like déjà vu. Alfred chose a
compartment with Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert, and watched in amusement as
they bewitched a collection of firecrackers to follow students through the
train corridors and explode loudly above their heads.
They had soon succeeded in scaring five Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, two
Slytherins (they were equal opportunity pranksters), and one very confused
toad.
As the Slytherin Prefect, Alfred was probably supposed to do something to stop
it, but he loved firecrackers too much to do anything other than watch the loud
explosions in amusement. Eventually the head boy confiscated the firecrackers
(and immediately discovered that the Slytherin trio had also hexed them to go
off if they were confiscated). They would definitely start the new year with
plenty of negative points.
Deprived of their noisy source of fun, the Slytherin students resorted to
debating what event had precipitated the sudden loss of Gryffindor house
points. Not long before Christmas break, the students of Hogwarts had awoken to
discover that Gryffindor's hourglass substantially emptier than the night
before.
"Perhaps they discovered Arthur's porn stash," Francis suggested as he rubbed
his beard.
"Wait, what?" Alfred asked. He found it hard to imagine that Arthur would be
the sort to keep a stack of porn around. That sounded more like Francis. But it
would be awesome if true, because Alfred secretly hoped that Arthur was as
kinky as he seemed in the American's dreams.
Gilbert shook his head in disagreement. He had a much better explanation:
"Kesesese, I bet some of the other students discovered his alcohol stash, got
completely blitzed, and spent the night dancing in their lounge."
"No, Gilbert, that was us. Remember?" Antonio said with a fond smile. "Good
times."
"Oh yeah, that was an awesome party."
The three boys eventually drifted into discussing their plans for the two-week
winter break. Alfred tuned out, choosing to spend the time thinking about his
own holiday plans. Being in Slytherin had honed Alfred's cunning to the point
where he realized that Arthur was much nicer when it was just the two of them
and they didn't have to worry about holding up their ends of the Gryffindor/
Slytherin rivalry. With a bit of luck and mistletoe, he fully intended to get a
Christmas kiss from Arthur.
Remembering that he was supposed to spend some time patrolling the train's
corridors, Alfred waved goodbye to his housemates and went to find Arthur and
Kiku's compartment. He walked along the train corridor, crossing from one train
car to the next, checking the occupants of compartment after compartment filled
with excited children. Everyone was looking forward to a relaxing break from
classes, especially after the grueling mid-year tests just before Christmas.
Eventually, Alfred found the two people he was looking for. He paused outside
the door to listen to a one-sided conversation. The American could see Kiku
through the wavy glass, but Arthur was blocked from view. Alfred shamelessly
eavesdropped, intrigued by snippets he could hear.
"They were furious when they found out, but I suspect they'll soon find a way
to twist it to be my fault. With any luck I can avoid them at the train
station, given all the people milling about," Arthur said with a quiet sigh.
The American leaned closer, wondering who could be upsetting the other boy.
Only Alfred was supposed to tease Arthur like that!
Kiku nodded. He brushed back his hair, suggesting that Arthur try a disguise.
The Gryffindor laughed. "It'd work better for you than for me, I'm afraid.
Speaking of which... is Mei going to be at The Hedley Kow this year?" he asked.
For the first time since they met, Alfred saw Kiku blush. The Ravenclaw boy's
eyes flickered to Alfred and he knew that he had been caught eavesdropping.
Since there was no point to continuing to stand outside, he pushed open the
door.
As he stepped in, the American kicked something on the ground. The object
rolled across the floor to Arthur's feet. Alfred recognized it as one of the
firecrackers the Slytherin trio had tried to set off earlier. He reached to
pick it up, but Arthur grabbed it first.
"A damp squib," Arthur said as he flattened his lips into a line in an
expression of distaste. Apparently the Gryffindor student didn't care for noisy
firecrackers. Given his love of quiet and dislike of pranks, Alfred wasn't
surprised.
The American shrugged. He sat down next to Arthur and reclaimed the
firecracker. "Yeah, I guess it's a dud," he agreed, sticking it in his pocket
to toss away later.
"You think that squibs are disappointments, don't you?" Arthur asked. "That's
what they call the children of wizarding parents who can't do magic themselves.
Squibs."
"Really? That seems kinda..." Alfred floundered as he tried to find the right
words.
He had never really thought about the non-magical children of wizarding parents
before because they were pretty rare. Most of them went to normal boarding
schools so they could learn how to live outside the wizarding world. But it
seemed wrong to call them 'squibs,' even though he couldn't explain why.
Normally Alfred would have shrugged and given up, but Arthur's intense
expression told him that this was important. After a few moments, the American
finally said, "I dunno, it seems mean, 'cause you're saying they're failures.
But not being able to do magic doesn't make you a failure."
Arthur chuckled. "An equalitarian Slytherin, who would have thought?"
"Yeah, I guess we're about as rare as Gryffindors who don't have a stick up
their ass," the American retorted, slipping back into insult-mode to hide the
sting he felt from Arthur's back-handed compliment. He would have thought that
Arthur, out of anyone, would feel sympathy for squibs.
Kiku tugged Alfred's sleeve and pointed to his prefect badge, reminding the
Slytherin that they were supposed to be patrolling the train corridors, instead
of getting into fights with other prefects.
"Okay, okay," the American agreed as he stood up and left. It was probably for
the best that the head boy had assigned him and Kiku to work together. If he
were walking the corridors with Arthur they would spend more time squabbling
than making sure that the students weren't getting into trouble. Francis called
it unresolved sexual tension and Alfred suspected that he was right.
Kiku led the way up and down the hallway. They prevented two students from
engaging in a wizard's duel in the train corridor, fixed a broken set of
spectacles caused by falling books, and tried to hide their chuckles as some
first-years discovered a particularly nasty flavor of Bertie Bott's Every
Flavour Beans. (This was why Alfred stuck to skittles—he liked colorful candy
that reliably tasted like pure sugar.)
Near the end of the train, they discovered a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor
arguing over a toad. Each insisted that they owned the amphibian, even when
placed under the Veritas charm. For some reason, they both believed that the
toad belonged to them.
Alfred rubbed the back of his head and turned to Kiku for advice. The Ravenclaw
made a chopping motion with his hand and pantomimed giving each student half of
the toad. Alfred nodded eagerly. "That's a great idea! You two can split the
frog."
"Are you insane?" the Hufflepuff girl asked with bulging eyes. "You can't do
that!"
"I think it's fair," the other girl replied.
Kiku plopped the animal into the Hufflepuff's hands and turned to leave. The
American tried to figure out how Kiku suddenly realized it was her pet, and
then he decided that it really didn't matter if it was hers, since she would
clearly be the better owner.
"Dude, that was clever," Alfred said as he caught up with the other Prefect.
Kiku grinned slightly and shrugged modestly.
"No, seriously. It was." Alfred bit his lip and asked quietly, "Do you think
you could help mesolve a problem?"
The Ravenclaw nodded. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. He had spent some time
trying to come up with a plan to kiss Arthur over Christmas break, but he
couldn't decide what was the better plan. He wanted something that gave him
plausible deniability in case the Gryffindor wasn't interested. First, he
thought about setting up mistletoe and then 'conveniently' meeting Arthur under
the plant. But he also tempted to try standing next to Arthur on New Year's Eve
and kissing him at midnight. Alcohol was also an option, but only as a last
resort, since Alfred wouldn't be able to use his broomstick to carry Arthur
home from a crowded London pub.
"So... I've got this... friend, and he wants to kiss someone over break. He's
pretty sure the other guy likes him back, but he's not 100% and I don't want to
upset the apple cart if Ar... the other guy's not interested. I've been
thinking about what works in the movies. Do you think it's better to use
mistletoe or the midnight kiss on New Year's?"
The Ravenclaw shook his head and held up three fingers.
"Wait, what's the third option?" Alfred asked, scrunching up his face in
confusion.
"The third option is probably to tell 'him' to talk over 'his' relationship
like an adult," Arthur said calmly. Alfred spun around to face the other boy,
trying to figure out when he had snuck up behind them. The American was very
glad he had given his question in the form of a hypothetical. He would die of
embarrassment if Arthur knew he was such a sap.
The sandy-haired Gryffindor turned to face Kiku and handed the Ravenclaw
Prefect a toad. "This was hopping around in the corridors, looking rather
confused. Do you think you could find the proper owner?"
Kiku nodded and walked away, leaving Alfred to face Arthur in an uncomfortable
silence. The American couldn't tell if the other boy was still annoyed that he
had called him a tight-ass. He wondered why he was so focused on Arthur's ass.
(Well, he didn't really wonder. It was a very nice ass.)
Alfred followed Arthur back to his compartment, sneaking glances at the
Gryffindor's sexy behind on the short walk. He was glad that Arthur had already
changed out of his robes and into street clothes. He hoped that he would have a
lot of opportunities to admire Arthur's ass as they walked around London. To be
honest, Alfred probably wasn't going to pay any attention to the city itself.
As the walked into the compartment, Arthur waited until Alfred took a seat,
then he pulled down the blinds and closed the door. The Gryffindor remained
standing, wearing a serious expression on his face when he turned to face the
American. "We should probably get a few things straight before we disembark,"
Arthur said quietly. "I wasn't certain if this was a good idea before, but
now..."
The Gryffindor glanced at the window, trying to come to a decision. For once,
the American managed to sit silently, waiting for Arthur to finish. He cringed
inwardly, certain that Arthur was going to cancel on him. He really wanted
Arthur to come, but he wasn't sure how to convince the Brit.
Arthur nodded to himself and turned back to face the Slytherin. He took the
seat next to Alfred and said softly, "...well, I've heard your plans for
mistletoe and New Year's kisses, and Mr. Jones, I think you're trying to seduce
me."
Alfred laughed out of sheer relief that Arthur wasn't canceling their winter
break plans, which was apparently the wrong response.
Arthur's face fell. "Aren't you?"
"No, of course not!" the American protested, offended by the suggestion. "I was
definitely going to buy you dinner first!"
Alfred blushed when he realized what he had just blurted out. He opened his
mouth and tried to think of a way to turn it into a joke, but his words were
cut off by Arthur's lips on his and any further thoughts were cut off as heat
and excitement spread down his body. Later he would describe their first kiss
as passionate and sensual, but in the moment, the kiss didn't feel like
something that could be explained with words. It felt like tumbling off a ship
into the ocean and discovering that he could breathe underwater. It felt like
the times he dreamed of being able to fly without a broomstick.
But it was real. And it was better than any dream.
The train curved around a bend and the momentum caused the American to slide to
a horizontal position with his back against the seat, leaving Arthur perched
precariously above him as they continued their hungry kisses. Alfred felt a
frisson of shock and delight as the older boy slipped a tongue into his mouth
and began a gentle massage.
Alfred had lifted the other boy's shirt halfway up his chest before he even
realized what he was doing. He came to his senses as a slight change in speed
sent them tumbling to the floor. The American landed on his side facing Arthur,
immensely glad that he hadn't landed on top of the smaller boy. Apparently the
seats on the Hogwarts Express weren't designed to accommodate the adventures of
horny teenagers.
"Wow," Alfred murmured. He smiled as he took in Arthur's face, pleased that he
was the one who had made the other boy so flushed.
"Mmm," Arthur agreed, equally breathless.
The picked themselves off the floor and sat together with their knees brushing
against each other. Arthur pulled his shirt back down, but not before Alfred
enjoyed the sight of his lean abs. Alfred wanted to pick up where they had left
off, but he had a feeling that if they went much further, they would end up
having sex and making a mess on the train compartment. He didn't know if the
Hogwarts professors had spells to identify sexual fluids, but he didn't want to
risk it.
"We should... um, later," the American said inelegantly. His mind was still
nearly as muddled as his hair.
Arthur sighed. "That's probably a good idea," he said, although he didn't look
like he really meant it. Alfred grinned and bumped his shoulder. The physical
contact felt good, even if it wasn't as much as he wanted.
Kiku rejoined them several minutes later and Alfred suspected that the
Ravenclaw boy knew what they had been doing. He wondered if bussing on the
train was the third option the other boy had in mind, but he had to admit that
kissing before they even arrived in London was a great idea because it left
them with many more opportunities to make out over break. With any luck, his
parents would visit most of London and give him some quality alone time with
Arthur.
"So what did you want to do over break?" Alfred asked Arthur.
"I've prepared a list," Arthur replied, standing up and stretching to pull it
out from his suitcase, causing his shirt to ride up. Alfred enjoyed the sliver
of exposed skin and mourned its loss when Arthur sat back down.
Alfred accepted the piece of paper and read off the first few items. "British
Museum. National Gallery. Westminster." He looked up at Arthur. "This list
looks great..."
The Gryffindor smiled back, which faded when Alfred added, "...for my parents.
Come on, we need to do something fun!"
Arthur crossed his arms. "What did you have in mind?"
"Ooh, let's see a movie, eat fast food, and get ice cream! Then we should test-
ride the latest broomstick models. I heard a new iBolt just came out." Alfred
bounced on the seat, eager to try new broomsticks. He liked to upgrade at least
once a year. Arthur looked less than thrilled by his suggestions, so Alfred
offered an olive branch. "We could also get tea. They serve awesome snacks with
it, right?"
The Gryffindor student nodded. "Yes, but I thought you don't like scones?"
Alfred grinned. "No, I don't like your scones. I'm sure regular ones are
delicious."
"You are such a prat."
Alfred stuck out his tongue and then laughed as Kiku rolled his eyes. The two
bickered a while and then spent an enjoyable hour comparing their favorite
movies. Arthur loved the classics while the American preferred horror and
westerns.
The American glanced out the window and noticed the outskirts of London coming
into view as the countryside grew rapidly more populated. He stood up to leave.
"I need to grab my stuff and say 'bye to Madeleine. I'll meet you on the non-
magical side of the platform!"
===============================================================================
Arthur thought he had succeeded in avoiding his aunt, uncle, and cousin on the
train platform, but he found them waiting for him on the muggle side. Arthur
forced a smile as they approached. As much as he disliked his relatives, he was
too much of a gentleman to snub them on the platform. Plus, he would likely end
up in trouble with the Ministry if he decided to hex them with all of the
muggles around.
His aunt smiled back—equally fake. He knew she only wore the expression for the
sake of the nearby onlookers. Her voice was soft and saccharine. "Oh, Arthur.
Goodness, I was worried you would slip off before we had a chance to see you.
Are you sure you don't want to spend Christmas with us?"
"Quite."
"Mum, I want to go," Peter whined.
"Just a second, dear," She said, before turning back to face the older boy.
"Arthur, I was so sorry to hear about the unfortunate incident. I do hope this
will cover the cost of a replacement." She offered up a small bag of coins,
shaking it slightly so Arthur could hear the clinking of the coins inside.
Arthur clenched his fists, his knuckles almost completely white from his tight
grip on his suitcase. "It wasn't an accident," he said through gritted teeth.
"And you can't just make it vanish with money."
"Listen boy, be sensible, this will more than cover a new broom," his uncle
added.
Arthur jumped slightly as a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He jerked his
head to the side and his surprised gaze met Alfred's grin. The American
winked—his way of asking Arthur to trust him. The taller boy stepped forward,
slightly placing himself between Arthur and his relatives. He took the coin
pouch and said in a warm southern drawl, "This will definitely cover a new
broomstick, Mr. Kirkland, and we were planning to go looking at the new ones
tomorrow, weren't we Arthur?"
The English boy blinked, pleasantly surprised by Alfred's accent. It was soft
and kind and left him a little weak in the knees. He suddenly understood why
people could find other accents so unbelievably sexy.
Alfred didn't wait for Arthur's reply. Instead he barreled forward with the
conversation. "Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland it was a real pleasure to meet you. I hope
you have a Merry Christmas!" he drawled as he stuffed the coin pouch into
Arthur's jacket. The American lifted his suitcase with one hand and propelled
the shorter boy forward with the other.
Still torn between the desire to yell at Alfred for his interference or kiss
him because of his sexy drawl, Arthur didn't resist as they continued to walk
through King's Cross station. Unfortunately, they were in public, which put a
crimp in either plan.
That meant the first order of business was making their way to the Victorian-
style rowhouse where they would meet Alfred's parents. The American had
explained that his parents were borrowing a house from a wizarding family that
liked to travel to the Spanish Riviera for the winter. They couldn't apparate
there, since he had never been there before, so they would have to take the
underground.
Arthur stopped by a vending machine and purchased two sets of tickets for the
tube. Alfred shuffled next to him, unnerved by the long silence.
"Hey, Artie, I get it if you're mad, but you do need a new broom. No reason to
turn down free money just 'cause you don't like your relatives."
Arthur shook his head and frowned as he handed Alfred a ticket and led the way
down the stairs to the tube entrance. "You don't get it, do you? It was blood
money. Peter was the one who hexed the broom."
"What?!" The American gaped. "Shit, I can't punch an 11-year old."
"He turned 12 in September."
The taller boy bit his lip, briefly considered it, then shook his head. "Nah,
that's still too young."
"Just as well you don't. It wasn't completely intentional. He meant to slow the
broom down a bit, but the hex ended up causing more damage than he thought.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still angry at him, but I've punished him already."
"The big loss of Gryffindor points?"
Arthur nodded. The two boys stopped talking as they entered the crush of people
entering the tube. Nearly any conversation could be explained by claiming that
it was about a video game, but there was no point in needlessly raising
suspicions.
They rode north a few stations and got off on Holloway Road. Arthur led the way
to a road that didn't appear on muggle maps. At first the rowhouses looked the
same as any other, but a few differences eventually revealed himself. These
houses had open attic windows to let in owls and broom racks in the front for
visitors. Alfred bounced up to the right house and used a special unlocking
charm to open the door.
They each picked bedrooms and Arthur came to a decision. His aunt and uncle
seemed nice to the unwary, so he wanted Alfred to understand why he hated his
relatives. For better or worse, the American seemed intent on slithering his
way into Arthur's life, but he really had no idea what he was dealing with.
Arthur wanted the other boy to understand why he could be such a grouch
sometimes.
"My parents aren't going to arrive for a few hours. You want to get burgers?"
Alfred asked as he popped his head into Arthur's room.
Arthur shrugged. "Fast food sounds fine, but there's somewhere I want to go
first."
The English boy packed away his final pieces of clothing and then offered his
arm to Alfred. Destination, determination, and deliberation, he thought to
himself. Within seconds they disappeared. The world twisted and stretched,
creating an unsettled feeling that made him glad he had an empty stomach. The
world returned to normal as they arrived at their destination. Arthur glanced
at the American to make sure he was alright. Alfred looked a little nauseous,
but otherwise fine.
"Is this a cemetery?" Alfred asked with a small shiver. He stepped closer to
Arthur. He was still holding Arthur's arm, but Arthur found he didn't mind. It
was actually a bit comforting, given their destination. The English boy used
his wand to summon a wreath, and placed it next to the closest headstone.
"Your parents?" the American asked hesitantly as he read the names on the
gravestone. They shared the name Kirkland and the date of death was ten years
prior.
Arthur's breath created a small mist in the cold air. He closed his eyes. "They
died in a car accident when I was seven. They were going to visit mum's parents
in the hospice and I didn't want to go along because I thought old people
smelled funny. Afterwards... well, I couldn't stay with my grandparents, they
were too sick to take care of me. So I hopped from foster family to foster
family. I think all of them knew that there was something a little strange
about me."
He felt Alfred reach for his hand. "I'm sorry," the American murmured.
"Then when I was eleven, I received the most exciting letter of my life
inviting me to Hogwarts. The family I was with thought it was a joke, so I ran
away without letting them know. Someone recognized the Kirkland name—said it
was an old wizarding family—and I thought that they might be distant
relatives."
Arthur remembered the thrill of excitement when he first learned that he had
relatives. He wanted a family to live with permanently, especially since
wizards wouldn't think him strange for talking to fairies. He was bitterly
disappointed.
"I sent a letter," Arthur continued. "They came out to meet me. They were so
happy. I didn't understand it then, but they weren't happy to find me, they
were happy that I was a wizard. My father had been a squib. His family threw
him out and forgot all about him. They didn't care when he got married. They
didn't care when he had a son. And they certainly didn't care when he died. All
they cared was thatI was a wizard, because it proved that their blood was
pure."
"God, they sound like such... prats!" Alfred said heatedly.
Despite the cold and the time-worn sadness he felt each time he visited his
parents' grave, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. He wished his parents a
silent farewell and then led the American to the street. If he remembered
correctly there was a Fine Burger Company not too far away. If he was going to
eat hamburgers, they would at least be gourmet ones from an English chain.
"You still have no idea what a prat is, do you?" Arthur asked.
"Something bad?" Alfred guessed.
"It means a fool."
Alfred huffed. "All this time I thought it meant something really terrible and
you've just been saying that I'm an idiot?" he complained.
"Rather proves the point, doesn't it?"
Alfred acted upset, but after a few hamburgers he forgave Arthur. They ate and
talked and laughed, and even though Arthur felt a pang of loneliness knowing
that he would be spending Christmastime with Alfred's parents instead of his
own, he thought it would be a lovely winter break. He frowned as he touched the
coins in his jacket pocket and reminded himself to send an owl post later that
evening.
===============================================================================
Dear Aunt and Uncle,
Thank you for the gold, but don't think that I've forgiven you.
Arthur
Chapter End Notes
     Hopefully this chapter answers some questions about Arthur and why
     he's touchy about certain subjects (purebloods, mudbloods, squibs,
     his relatives, etc). Also, in case you're wondering about Madeleine,
     I didn't forget her! She just spent the chapter chillin' with her
     Hufflepuff friends.
***** Xmas Memories *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred's mother loves telling embarrassing stories.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Holiday breaks were the best because Alfred could finally sleep in as long as
he wanted. Just before noon, he finally rolled out of bed. Still yawning, he
made his way to the kitchen hoping for coffee and breakfast.
As Alfred rounded the corner he saw his mom and Arthur chatting at the kitchen
table.
"...until he was about five. We had to buy so much of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose
Magical Mess Remover that the local store ordered a crate per year just for
us," she said with a light chuckle. "I've never found a muggle product that
works half as well."
"What's for breakfast?" Alfred asked, giving his mother a quick hug before he
made a beeline for the pot of coffee. He poured himself a cup, adding plenty of
cream and sugar.
His mother glanced up and smiled. "There are some cinnamon rolls next to the
stove," she said, pointing to the food and the cupboard with the plates. She
turned back to Arthur and continued her story after taking a sip of coffee.
"When he finally stopped, we used all of the money we saved on stain remover to
buy him a broomstick."
Alfred paled and nearly dropped his cup, realizing that his mother had been
telling Arthur about his bed-wetting as a child. The stain remover was used to
clean the sheets and they really had purchased a broomstick to celebrate when
he finally stopped.
"Mom!" he shouted as he blushed, deeply embarrassed to have that information
shared with his rival/crush/maybe-sorta-boyfriend (they really needed to have a
talk about their kiss and what it meant). Neither his mother nor Arthur even
look ashamed. In fact, Arthur looked like he was trying to hold back laughter
and Alfred's mother just smiled in her usual endearing, but slightly clueless,
way.
"Oh, don't be upset, Alfie," she said. "Arthur saw me using a cellphone and he
wanted to know if I thought that muggle technology was better than magic. I
think it is for many things. But I've never found a muggle cleaning solution as
good as Mrs. Skower's."
Alfred sighed and sat down, realizing that he would need to keep Arthur away
from his mother if he didn't want his rival/crush/whatever to know every single
embarrassing moment of Alfred's childhood. And there were quite a lot of them.
"So what are you two planning for today?" his mother asked. "Your father and I
want a day to recuperate from the jet lag."
"We're going to look at the latest models of broomsticks!" Alfred said
excitedly. He couldn't wait to take them out for a test ride, even if it was
cold outside.
"Well, sweetie, be sure you don't get stuck in a tree," she advised Alfred. She
then turned and smiled at Arthur. "He did that when he was seven. I still don't
know how he managed to lose his broom and end up on tree branch instead."
"Thanks for the rolls we're gonna go look at brooms now bye Mom!" Alfred said,
quickly dragging Arthur away before his mother could share any more childhood
stories. He wondered if he could convince the Gryffindor boy to drink a memory-
erase potion so that he'd forget everything he had heard that morning. Judging
by the sly grin on Arthur's face, it seemed unlikely. This called for a
distraction.
Alfred pulled Arthur into his bedroom and shut the door. The American stepped
forward and placed one hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur's expression softened
and he tilted his head slightly upward, giving Alfred permission to plant a
kiss directly on his lips.
The kiss was a tiny spark that lit the fuse, and suddenly Alfred couldn't get
enough of Arthur—his soft lips, smooth neck, warm hands; the jut of his hipbone
along the edge of his pants; the throaty murmurs as they stumbled together to
the bed.
Alfred let the other boy press him down onto the mattress. Arthur straddled his
lap, the same way he had on the Hogwarts Express, but this time they didn't
have to worry about the bed shaking underneath them—or at least, that the bed
would start to shake independently of their own activities.
"Perhaps we shouldn't do this on your bed, you might wet it," Arthur said
teasingly before he bent forward to continue their kissing.
Alfred pushed him off, not forcefully, but enough to let Arthur know he wasn't
happy.
"Hey, I was five. And if we want to talk about embarrassing crap, what about
that time you fainted while trying to kiss me?" he said, crossing his arms. If
they were going to share embarrassing stories, he wasn't going to hold back.
Arthur flushed. "I was drunk. I passed out." He sighed. "Look, don't be mad.
The stories your mother shared were rather cute. You must have been an adorable
child."
"Well, you were an adorable drunk," Alfred retorted.
The English boy blinked in confusion. "I... uh... thanks?"
They both averted their gazes, choosing to study the really interesting shade
of beige paint used on the walls. Even Alfred, with his limited ability to
sense the mood, could tell that their impromptu make-out session had become
five kinds of awkward. He considered just kissing Arthur again, since that
seemed to take care of their short-term problems, but he still didn't really
understand what the other boy thought of him, other than the fact that he
apparently found the American very kissable.
Alfred pouted. He liked Arthur, but the Gryffindor seemed to have a low opinion
of him judging by Arthur's drunken rant about disliking handsome jerks. He
doubted that a few childhood stories would change that. The American stood up
and pulled on his jacket. He turned back to face Arthur, who was watching him
with a guarded look.
"So now that I'm grown up do you think I'm just a sexy jerk?" the American
asked. He laughed a little to make it seem like a joke.
Arthur rolled his eyes and rose to his feet. He brushed off a piece of lint
from the Slytherin's jacket before responding. "No. You're a moderately
attractive narcissist who enjoys fishing for compliments. And for the record,
you're not done growing up. Your tea cup predicted a couple more inches."
"Really? You can tell that from a tea cup?" Alfred asked incredulously.
Arthur shrugged. "I told you I was good at tessomancy."
===============================================================================
The mood was effectively ruined, so Arthur decided that they might as well look
at new broomsticks. It turned out to be a rather pleasant experience. Seeing
Alfred in a broomstick store was like watching a kid in a candy shop. Alfred
hopped from broom to broom (occasionally in mid-air), insisting that he had to
try them all. Arthur couldn't decide whether to watch Alfred with an indulgent
smile or pretend that he didn't know the other teenager. He settled for smiling
indulgently when no one else was looking.
"Watch this, watch this!" Alfred called as he sped directly upward and then
flew upside down all the glass dome of the shop. The store was much larger on
the inside than it was on the outside thanks to magic. In addition to rows and
rows of broomsticks, it also had a large atrium so that people could test the
merchandise no matter the weather outside. (And given that it was London, the
weather was often chilly or damp.) Alfred zipped dramatically around the other
store patrons and came to a sudden halt only inches away from Arthur.
Arthur shrugged apologetically as he caught the shopowner's disapproving stare.
"Alfred, do stop playing around or we'll get kicked out before I find a new
broom," he warned.
The American sighed, but dismounted. He continued to eye the new brooms
longingly, caressing the wooden handles with light touches. Perhaps Arthur just
had a dirty mind, but the soft strokes looked a little bit naughty. A few
completely inappropriate pick-up lines flashed through his mind.
Would you like to ride my broomstick? I've got the best sort of wood.
"Can I help you find something, boys?" the shopowner asked, pulling Arthur away
from his pleasant thoughts. She smiled, but Arthur could tell that she wanted
them to leave if they didn't plan to buy something.
He nodded. "I'm looking for the Cleansweap Twelve, ma'am," he said politely.
"Oh, excellent choice! Most young people just want the newest, flashiest
brooms," she gave Alfred a hard look, "but the Cleansweeps are a good,
dependable model that will keep you flying year after year. The stick shift
takes a little more skill to fly, but in the hands of a skilled young witch or
wizard, they're amazing brooms."
After delivering her sales pitch, she pulled out a broom from beneath the shop
counter and handed it to Arthur. He examined it and then reached for his coin
pouch.
"Don't you want to try it out?" Alfred asked.
Arthur shook his head. "It's bad luck to fly a broom before its first game."
The shopkeeper smiled. "I'm glad to hear that some people still keep up the old
Quidditch traditions. Which team do you play for?"
"Gryffindor," Arthur replied proudly.
Her eyes lit up. "You must be Arthur Kirkland! I knew I recognized those
eyebrows somewhere. Your parents came in two months ago to get a broom
customized for your brother. Peter, right?"
Arthur's smile dimmed. "Those were my aunt and uncle, actually."
"Well, you've done a jolly good job as seeker. I was in Gryffindor myself back
in the day and I still read about all the games. This last season has been
rather exciting, hasn't it? I can't wait for the final Slytherin/Gryffindor
match. But you should watch out for the Slytherin seeker—he sounds like a
sneaky one."
"I will definitely keep that in mind," Arthur deadpanned.
She patted his hand. "Poor dear, having to buy a new broom after those
Slytherins hexed yours. Well, don't worry, love, I always give a discount to
Gryffindor Quidditch players." She accepted a few galleons from Arthur, but
gave most of them back. Arthur thanked her and carried his new purchase from
the store.
It took a few steps before Arthur realized that he was walking by himself. He
glanced back and saw Alfred trudging behind him with a downcast expression.
Arthur realized that the Slytherin wasn't upset by the fact that he wasn't
going to get a discount on a broomstick. He was upset that people thought he
was a cheater and a sneak. Beneath his brash and jovial exterior, Arthur was
beginning to suspect that Alfred harbored a number of deep insecurities. He
felt a pang of guilt for his own role in accusing the Slytherin of misconduct.
He knew exactly what would cheer up the other boy, however. Food. Specifically,
good English cooking. Five minutes later, they were sitting in a booth at a
wizarding cafe with two mince pies, a hot tea for Arthur and a cup of cocoa for
Alfred. Alfred looked at the pie dubiously.
"It's got meat in it?" he asked.
Arthur laughed. "No, these pies are just minced up fruit. And it's traditional
to make a wish when you eat the first pie of the season." He took a relaxing
sip of tea, and then offered a final piece of advice: "Oh, remember to eat the
pie silently or your wish won't come true."
Alfred nodded eagerly and they both lifted their mince pies. The American
closed his eyes and then took a bite. He mmm-ed in appreciation and quickly
devoured the rest of the pie. Arthur finished his at a more sedate pace and as
he slowly chewed he wished for good scores on his NEWTs, success in Quidditch,
and an opportunity for some uninterrupted snogging with the cute American
sitting across from him.
After they finished their pies, they continued to sip their tea and cocoa in
comfortable silence. When Arthur finished his first cup of tea, Alfred stole it
away with a grin.
"I'm going to read your fortune, to see if the pie worked," the American
announced, before peering into the cup.
"I thought you were bad at divination?" Arthur asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Well, you've definitely got a cat and a squiggle here... so that means you're
going to get a cat as a pet and then play with it with a bit of string!" Alfred
grinned happily, pleased by the fortune. "Did you wish for a pet cat?"
Arthur chuckled. "I see why you're not very good at divination. You're far too
literal. The cat doesn't mean an actual cat, the symbol stands for a
treacherous friend."
Alfred frowned. "Oh. What about the squiggle?"
Arthur sucked his teeth, pondering the potential symbols. "Well, wavy lines in
general mean an uncertain path. But given the cat... maybe it's a dragon? That
means unforeseen trouble. Or a corkscrew is curiosity causing trouble."
Alfred frowned. "Wow, those all sound really negative. How come divination is
filled with negative symbols?" He handed back the tea cup. "I think you need to
keep drinking until you get a better fortune."
"It doesn't work that way," Arthur said with a chuckle. He accepted the cup and
filled it again from the teapot. Despite the negative fortune, he was feeling
quite cheerful. First, given the American's self-admitted limitations in
divination, he doubted that the fortune was accurate. Second, Arthur had spent
the past four months feeling like he wanted something he couldn't have (Alfred)
or that what he wanted wasn't good for him (because Alfred was a Slytherin),
but now he could see that what he wanted was right within his reach and his for
the taking. Arthur had always believed in self-fulfilling prophecies, so he
carefully slipped off his shoe and tapped Alfred's foot. The American blinked
at him and the grinned. Taking that as his cue, the Gryffindor lightly touched
Alfred's ankle with his toes and then gently caressed the other boy's leg.
The American giggle a bit—apparently he was very ticklish—and Arthur smiled. He
wondered if Alfred was ticklish everywhere and made a mental note to find out.
There was a great deal he wanted to find out about the other boy, starting with
something that had confused Arthur from the very first day of school: why
Alfred was in Slytherin.
"You shouldn't let it get you down when people call Slytherins sneaky," the
Gryffindor said softly. "I'm afraid they go a little overboard on school
rivalry."
"Yeah, I had no idea," Alfred said, shaking his head ruefully. "I just
researched Quidditch teams." He slipped off his own shoes and began rubbing his
foot against Arthur's leg, carefully lifting up Arthur's trousers and touching
Arthur's leg directly with his soft woolen socks. Arthur focused on keeping his
expression calm. The thrill and challenge of playing footsie was in maintaining
a normal conversation above-table.
"You've never read Hogwarts: An Updated History?" Arthur asked, pleased that
his voice sounded so calm. He took a small sip of tea. It suddenly made sense
why Slytherin had so many international students—they knew less of the house's
dark history.
Alfred shrugged. "Just the sections on the Quidditch teams. That really helped
me decide which house I wanted, 'cause I didn't think I had a chance of being
seeker for Gryffindor. And could you see me in Ravenclaw?"
"You've got the specs for it," Arthur replied, carefully hiding his shock as he
realized that he was the reason Alfred had chosen Slytherin. It was almost sad.
Their status as rivals had brought them in constant contact, but it had also
proven a source of major tension between them. Oh well, sometimes friction was
enjoyable. He refocused on the topic at hand and asked, "What about
Hufflepuff?"
"Huffle-who?" Alfred laughed. "No really, I like the 'puffs, but they haven't
had a decent Quidditch team in years."
Arthur nearly dropped his tea cup as he felt Alfred's foot stroke his thigh.
The American had the audacity to just grin at him across the table. Apparently
he played footsie as aggressively as he played everything else.
"Well, I think you would have made a top-notch beater on the Gryffindor team,"
Arthur said, and he meant it. The American was fast on a broomstick, but he was
a bit too tall and bulky for the Seeker position already. He would excel as a
beater, however, since that position called for stamina and strength.
"You want me batting for the same team?" Alfred replied as he waggled his
eyebrows. He gave Arthur a deliciously cocky look and then sipped his hot
cocoa. As the American lowered the cup, Arthur noticed a bit of whipped cream
still on his upper lip. The English boy felt like a cat that absolutely had to
have a bit of cream. He reached across the table, wiped off the cream, and then
licked his finger. The shocked (and slightly turned on) look on Alfred's face
was completely worth it.
Alfred sucked in a breath. He opened his mouth—clearly ready to ask a
question—but instead of speaking, he took another sip of his cocoa. This time,
he left even more whipped cream on his upper lip. Enough that Arthur knew it
had to be intentional.
"What is it, Alfred?" Arthur asked gently, as he once again transferred the
dollop of cream to his own mouth with a smooth flick of his finger. Arthur was
expecting a request to go back to Alfred's bedroom so they could pick up where
they left off. The American surprised him, however.
"Do you want to go out to dinner with me... and a movie... on a date?" he asked
hesitantly, his voice a pleasant mix of hopeful and bashful. Arthur didn't know
how anyone could say no. Especially when he already fancied him something
fierce.
Arthur smiled and cocked his head to the side. "What do you call this then? I'm
pretty sure that going out for afternoon tea at a wizarding café counts as a
date by anyone's standard. We're playing footsie under table, for heaven's
sake!"
"The first rule of footsie is you don't talk about footsie," the American
quickly replied. Then he grinningly amended his question, "How about a second
date, then?"
Arthur grinned.
"That would be lovely."
===============================================================================
Arthur made the mistake of letting Alfred pick the movie.
The American had chosen horror (the most recent version of some series called
'Paranormal Activity') and just the previews left Alfred a quivering mess,
clutching Arthur's arm until he had almost cut off all blood circulation.
The film started slowly—just normal people living a normal life. Arthur could
tell it wouldn't end well for the main characters. Indeed, a malignant force
began to slowly rip apart their lives.
Alfred whimpered.
"Are you sure you don't want to watch the comedy instead?" Arthur whispered.
"Hahaha. No. I can handle this. Oh-god-what's-happening-now?" the American
moaned as he practically jumped into Arthur's lap.
Arthur stretched his arm across Alfred's shoulders and pulled the other boy
close. He felt the American relax in his grip, even if Alfred continued to
cover his eyes for most of the film. It was alright—Arthur enjoyed the movie's
moments of genuine fright, and he felt warm and protective with the other boy
tightly gripping his hand.
Perhaps a horror movie wasn't such a bad idea after all.
===============================================================================
Arthur heard the floor creaking next to his bed. He blurrily opened his eyes
and saw Alfred standing next to his bed... just standing there, watching him
sleep. Arthur wanted to ask what the other boy was doing, but found that he
couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was trapped as Alfred stared at him
unblinkingly. Arthur began to sense a presence in the other boy's eyes. He felt
his heart pounding as he desperately tried to shout. He struggled to move even
a finger, but he was completely, hopelessly paralyzed.
He woke up with a gasp, still sweating from his nightmare. He realized he had
been startled awake by the sound of knocking on the door. Despite the terrible
verisimilitude of his dream, there was no one else in his room. Arthur wiped
the sweat from his brow and tried to calm down.
"Hey, Arthur? Are you awake?" he could hear Alfred asking outside the door.
"I am now," Arthur retorted, his voice still somewhat shaken from his dream. He
walked to the door and opened it.
Alfred slipped in, clutching a pillow in his hands like it was his only source
of comfort in the world. "Can I stay here with you?" he asked desperately. From
his frightened expression, it was clear that Alfred had spent the past few
hours huddled in his room, jumping at every noise. Given the way the young man
had reacted to the movie, Arthur wasn't surprised.
"You really are a scaredy-cat, aren't you?" Arthur asked, although he found it
hard to give his words much bite. Alfred's fearful expression and mussed hair
made Arthur want to wrap the poor boy in his arms and protect him from the
ghosts in his head.
"O-of course n-not," Alfred replied unconvincingly.
"Really?" Arthur stomped his foot on the ground, causing Alfred to yelp and
jump under the duvet. Arthur watched the lump shiver and didn't have the heart
to kick Alfred out of the bed. (Especially since a part of him had wanted to
get Alfredin bed from the very first moment they met. Not quite like this, but
he would take what he could get.)
Arthur laid back down on the other side of the mattress and advised Alfred to
just go to sleep. Alfred sighed and wrapped his arms around Arthur like the
other boy was his own personal teddy bear. Arthur tensed and debated
protesting, but there was something comforting about the sound of Alfred's
breathing and the warmth of his body. He gave in to the inevitable and allowed
himself to be cuddled like a teddy bear. Arthur fell asleep and suffered no
more nightmares.
===============================================================================
Sometime during the night, Alfred stole all the sheets.
===============================================================================
Arthur woke up with cold feet. Grumbling, he pulled the duvet away from the
American. Instead of relinquishing the blanket, Alfred rolled with it and half-
sprawled across Arthur. The English boy used his cold feet to his advantage,
pressing them against the other boy's legs and causing him to wake up.
The sight of Alfred's blue eyes, still fogged with sleep, created a small pool
of warmth in Arthur's stomach. The young man's messy blond hair rivaled
Arthur's own. In the soft morning light, he looked like an angel who had fallen
to Earth. Arthur didn't want to, but he couldn't help but forgive the other boy
for being an inconsiderate bedmate and stealing all the sheets.
"Your feet are freezing," Alfred mumbled, acting completely innocent.
"Whose fault is that, hmm?" Arthur retorted. Their feet lay tangled together
and Arthur already felt considerably warmer. He should have prodded the
American with his cold feet hours ago.
If Alfred was going to be an unrepentant sheet-thief, he was at least
considerate enough to cast off heat like a small furnace. Arthur decided that
next time he would be sure to have his own blanket, recognizing that it was a
little odd that he simply assumed there would be a next time.
Still only half-awake, the American lifted his head to look at the clock on the
nightstand and then plopped back onto his pillow. "It's not even ten," Alfred
murmured. The young man sighed. "Hey, Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"What happens when we go back to Hogwarts? Can we still be... I don't know?"
Arthur understood what the other boy meant. He still wasn't quite sure how to
classify their relationship, but whatever they called it, he could tell that a
non-rival relationship would be next to impossible to manage as a Gryffindor
and a Slytherin. Even a simple friendship would bring a number of stares,
particularly given their positions on the Quidditch team.
He shrugged, realizing there was little they could do other than keep it
secret. "I don't think it'd look right to be dating my rival on the other team.
But we could meet up in secret. Some secluded corner with minimal lighting."
"What about ghosts?" Alfred asked anxiously.
"No ghosts," Arthur promised.
"Good," the American replied drowsily. His eyes fluttered shut and Arthur could
tell from his soft breathing that Alfred had fallen back to sleep.
Arthur gave in to temptation and snuggled closer to Alfred. Though he rarely
had a chance to enjoy it at Hogwarts, Arthur liked the sensation of lying half-
awake in a warm bed. It was the best time of the day to simply let his thoughts
wander.
The voice of Alfred's mother pulled Arthur out of his half-doze.
"Alfie! Time to get up or we're miss the changing of the guard," she called.
She sounded like she was close. "George, have you seen Alfie?" she added after
a few moments.
"Have you checked Arthur's room?" he responded.
Arthur felt a moment of panic. He stumbled out of bed and hurriedly pulled on a
jumper just before Alfred's mother opened the door. She peered in and smiled.
The words tumbled out of Arthur's mouth: "This isn't what it looks like."
"Don't worry, dear. I know how Alfred can get after watching a scary movie,"
she patted Arthur's shoulder. He smiled back at her nervously, wondering if
they should also be keeping their relationship secret from Alfred's parents.
"Mom. Five more minutes," Alfred muttered from his cocoon of sheets.
"You know, Alfie nearly missed his first day of school at the Salem Institute
because he wanted to sleep in. I had to levitate him out of bed."
"Okay, okay!" Alfred cried, pulling himself out of bed. "I'm up. You can stop
telling embarrassing stories now."
She laughed cheerfully. "Oh, that one wasn't even embarrassing. Arthur, dear,
I've boiled some water for you."
"Thank you," Arthur responded politely as he followed her to the kitchen.
"If you want embarrassing, let me tell you about the time he split his pants at
his first school Quidditch game when he lunged to catch the snitch..." she
said, launching in to her next story as they walked along the hallway.
Alfred pulled on his clothes in record time and raced after them. They made it
to see the changing of the guard, but Alfred spent the rest of Christmas break
trying to stop his mother from sharing stories.
===============================================================================
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jones,
Thank you for the lovely invitation to spend time with you over the holidays. I
had a wonderful time, though I am terribly sorry about the goose. I really
don't understand what happened in the kitchen. I will definitely keep in mind
your invitation for next year.
Sincerely,
Arthur
Chapter End Notes
     So, I was looking up details on mince pies and I came across this gem
     of a quote from a Puritan settler (remember that the Puritans hated
     Christmas): "All Plums the Prophets Sons defy, And Spice-broths are
     too hot; Treason's in a December-Pye, And Death within the Pot."
     Reminding us once again that Puritans are where fun goes to die :)
***** Two-Faced Boy *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred and Arthur discover the difficulty of keeping their
     relationship secret.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Secret relationships were serious business.
Alfred spotted Arthur in the hallway not long after they returned to classes at
Hogwarts. He resisted the urge to wave at the other boy and shout hello.
Grabbing Arthur's hand and kissing him was also completely out of the question,
as tempting as it was.
The American desperately tried to remember how he was supposed to act so that
other students wouldn't suspect that the two Quidditch rivals were secretly
dating. What he needed was a suitably scathing insult, but he kept getting
distracted by thoughts of how much he wanted to just ravish Arthur in the
corridor and forget the insults.
"Hey, Kirkland, heard you got a new broomstick," he managed as he crossed paths
with Arthur. It wasn't actually an insult, but he said it in a suitably
taunting tone, and that was what really mattered.
Arthur smirked as he sauntered past. "Don't worry, Jones. I'll be sure to fly
slowly so you can keep up."
The Gryffindor kept walking, leaving Alfred in his wake. Alfred sought a
comeback to shout before Arthur was out of earshot, but all he could think of
was 'your robes do nothing to show off your ass' and even he could tell that
(1) wasn't an insult and (2) would not help keep their relationship secret.
Alfred sighed—insulting Arthur wasn't half as much as kissing him—and continued
on his way to the dining hall. He found Gilbert and Francis plotting a
Slytherin Quidditch victory over lunch. Quidditch was also serious business.
The American took his usual seat, the one with a nice view of Arthur. He
decided that a little staring would be okay. If anyone asked, he could just say
that he was studying Arthur to learn his every weakness. If comic books had
taught him anything, it was that it was perfectly normal for rivals to be
completely obsessed with each other. Yep, perfectly normal.
"...it's not bad," Francis said as he pushed away the rest of his food.
"Not bad? Come on, it's way better than 'not bad.'" Gilbert turned to face
Alfred. "Hey, Alfred, tell Frannie how awesome my awesome plan is."
The American stuffed a buttered roll into his mouth. He knew Gilbert well
enough to know the right answer. "It's awesome?" he mumbled.
The other boy slapped him on the back. "Of course it is! I thought it up over
break. See, there are three games left in the season." He ticked them off on
his finger. "Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, us vs. Ravenclaw, and the main event,
us against Gryffindor, assuming we both have the top scores, which we will.
Anyway, I realized over break that we don't have any more games with the
'puffs. You know what that means."
"More beer?" Alfred offered in between bites. Beer was also a good guess when
dealing with Gilbert's plans.
Gilbert grinned. "That too. But first we train the Hufflepuffs and they beat
Gryffindor. Then we all go out drinking. Awesome plan, huh?"
"Yeah." Alfred nodded absent-mindedly and reached for the desserts. He'd never
heard of treacle tarts before arriving at Hogwarts, so he had to make up for 16
years of tragic deprivation. The American added a large dollop of clotted cream
to the warm tart. Then he realized that Gilbert's plan didn't actually make any
sense. It'd be great for beating Gryffindor and as much as he liked Arthur,
even Alfred enjoyed seeing the prideful boy lose on occasion. But he didn't see
any benefits other than Schadenfreude (what Gilbert called 'die Beste Freude').
"Wait, how does that help us?" Alfred asked before taking a second bite of his
tart.
Francis smiled. "Ah, you suffer from a common misconception. The winner is not
chosen based on who wins the final match. The Quidditch Cup is awarded based on
point totals from all of the games," he explained.
"So fewer points for Gryffindor in their Hufflepuff game means an easier
victory for us," Gilbert crowed. "I told you it was awesome."
"The only downside is that if we train the Hufflepuff team this year, they will
know our strategy for next," Francis offered. "But Gil, Toni, and I are
seventh-years. You're going to have a crappy team anyway."
"Sorry, kid." Gilbert added. "Looks like you need to grab your victory now."
Alfred chewed slowly as he mulled over the plan. The Quidditch teams normally
didn't practice with each other so they could keep their game strategy secret.
But there was nothing in the rules that said theycouldn't. Alfred thought that
spending time with the Slytherin trio would leave him completely ignorant of
the school's rules. It turned out the opposite was true. No one knew the rules
as well as the trio. They knew exactly how far they could go without risking
serious punishment. It was one thing to break the rules; it was much better to
break the rules and get away with it.
Having watched the 'puffs play, Alfred already knew a few tips he could give to
their seeker. But most of them focused on how to take advantage of Arthur's
weaknesses, and that felt like a betrayal of the other boy. The American bit
his lip. It was a clever plan and appropriately sneaky, as befit Slytherin
House. But if Arthur found out... he would be seriously annoyed. The Slytherin
felt his divided loyalties sharply.
"I don't mind if you guys share chaser tips with the 'puffs, I'm not sure I
want the Hufflepuff seeker knowing my technique," he finally said. He actually
expected to join a Quidditch team this year and finish his seventh year NEWTs
with correspondence courses, but he couldn't give them the real reason for his
hesitation, since he had promised Arthur that he would keep it secret.
Gilbert leaned forward. "I have an awesome plan for that too. We'll just train
the beaters and the chasers. The 'puff beaters need to focus on attacking
Kirkland with the bludgers, because that'll give their own seeker a much better
shot of getting the snitch."
Alfred nodded slowly. "And they don't need to worry about the Gryffindor
chasers scoring points because the 'puffs have the best keeper. That is an good
plan," he said in genuine admiration. Gil seemed like a screwball half the
time, but he really was a smart Quidditch player.
Gilbert smirked. "Kesese. Told you so."
===============================================================================
The hardest part of the plan was convincing the Hufflepuffs to go along with
it. 'Never expect free help from a snake,' was a saying at Hogwarts for a
reason.
Nevertheless, the Hufflepuff team captain eventually, grudgingly accepted their
assistance. After a bit of hemming and hawing (Hufflepuff normally sided with
Gryffindor in questions of school rivalry), she was finally won over by
Antonio's argument that allowing them to help train the Hufflepuff chasers and
beaters would show that hard work and perseverance (both qualities that
Hufflepuff selected for) beat natural skill.
As the two teams practiced together, Francis and Antonio gave tips to the
Hufflepuff chasers, who took turns scoring against the Slytherin keeper.
Meanwhile, Gilbert showed the beaters how to use their bats to give the
bludgers a good spin. With extra spin, the heavy balls flew faster and hit
harder, creating enough force to seriously injure the other team's seeker.
"Now, pretend that Alfred here is the Gryffindor seeker and try to hit him!"
Gilbert shouted as he set loose a number of bludgers.
Alfred ducked and weaved, barely avoiding nasty hits from the flying balls. It
took all of his attention just to avoid getting hit—he had no energy to spare
for finding the snitch, which was precisely the point of having the beaters
focus on the opposing team's seeker. Arthur wouldn't be able to catch a damn
thing.
After a hard hit to the stomach, Alfred swooped to the ground and dismounted.
"I'm done!" he shouting, calling off the attacks. He stumbled into the locker
room and grabbed a potion of soothing ointment, grateful that he had the
foresight to bring it along.
The American smiled, pleased with the Hufflepuff team's fast progress, until he
remembered that he was helping them get better so they could try to hit Arthur
with heavy bludgers. Alfred reminded himself that he couldn't hesitate—he was
at Hogwarts so he could get scouted by a top-notch Quidditch team. If he won
the Quidditch Cup, they would be much more likely to pick him. And really, it
was the same strategy the Gryffindors had used against him in the second
Gryffindor/Slytherin game, so they had no one to blame but themselves if the
Hufflepuff team used it against them. But none of his excuses or
rationalizations made him feel any better.
Alfred sighed as he ran his hand through his sweaty hair. It was going to be
very hard not to warn Arthur the next time he saw his rival/secret boyfriend.
But he had to keep silent. His Quidditch ambitions were worth it.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Sorry for the lack of calls. The service around here isn't very good, so I'm
pretty much limited to texts. I guess that must be the reason no one has cell
phones at school.
Arthur's doing good, but he's stressed out about his NEWTS. All of the seventh
years are. I've been practicing a lot for Quidditch. Other than that, not much
to add.
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
As the weeks slowly passed, the charade proved increasingly difficult for
Arthur to manage. His classes provided some distraction, but it simply wasn't
enough to keep his mind (particularly his dirty imagination) from drifting to
Alfred. It had been bad enough when he wanted Alfred and thought the American
wasn't interested. Now he knew the only thing standing between them was the
potential disapproval of the entire school body. Peer pressure won out over his
libido, but it was a tough choice.
Even his dreams had turned against him. Arthur used to dream of soft lips and
passionate embraces. Now he had nightmares where his teammates discovered the
relationship and kicked him off the team. In his nightmares, he found himself
jobless after graduation and relying on his aunt and uncle for assistance. They
forced him to clean the house and live in a broom closet under the stairs. He
would wake in a cold sweat, swearing to himself that he would earn his way onto
a top-rated team and never have to depend on his aunt and uncle ever again.
Tired after finishing his Ancient Runes essay and hoping for a short nap before
dinner, Arthur climbed up to his room. As he pushed open the door he discovered
his cousin rifling through his belongings. He clenched his fist, annoyed at the
little brat.
"Peter! What are you doing here?" he snapped.
His cousin looked up. Instead of looking guilty, he had a small smirk on his
face. "Look what I found!" he said, brandishing a small potion bottle. "This
must be how the Slytherin seeker cast a spell on you... with a love potion! But
don't worry, I'm going to save you, Arthur."
Arthur sighed and grabbed the bottle. "This was a Christmas gift from Kiku, now
get out of my room before I have to deduct even more points from Gryffindor."
Peter stubbornly refused to leave. "Is it alcohol? Mum and Dad say you drink
too much."
"It's none of your business," Arthur replied, yanking the potion from Peter's
grasp and placing it back into the trunk, where it was cradled by a bit of
Christmas wrapping paper.
He was lying about the source of the gift, of course. It had been a present
from Alfred, not Kiku, and a particularly thoughtful one at that. The potion
contained Alfred's hangover cure. Arthur gently touched the wrapping paper. He
couldn't find it in his heart to throw the paper away after the Slytherin had
pointed out that the red and green colors were perfect for them. The Gryffindor
Prefect relocked his trunk and made a mental note to invest in a better locking
charm.
"Why were you with him on the train platform?" Peter asked accusingly.
Arthur had hoped that Peter wouldn't notice, but he was prepared just in case.
He sighed dramatically.
"Jones heard me talking about plans to buy a broomstick and insisted that he
wanted a new one too. I had nearly given him the slip when I ran into your
parents. I can't hex him in front of muggles, I'm afraid."
"I guess not." Peter was apparently satisfied with that response, since his
next question lacked the bravado of his earlier accusations. "Well, how come
you didn't come home for Christmas? Are you still mad about the jinx on your
broomstick?" he asked softly.
Arthur sighed again. He didn't know how to explain to an 11-year-old that his
parents weren't very nice people. They had expected Arthur to be grateful for
taking him in after his first year at Hogwarts, but they had never once
apologized for the four years he spent in foster care (even though they must
have known about his existence), nor had they ever spared a kind word for
Arthur's parents.
Part of it was Peter's fault as well, since Arthur was still annoyed with his
young cousin for hexing his broom out of jealously. The foolish and spoiled boy
had thought that if Arthur performed poorly during the game that his team would
automatically replace him, giving Peter a chance to be Gryffindor seeker.
Heaven knew why he thought that he would be their choice. He wished his cousin
wasn't consumed with a toxic combination of hero-worship and jealously.
"Peter, I'd rather not be called a delinquent by your parents the entire time,
and I had a lot of studying to do over break. I've got my NEWTs, remember?"
Arthur sighed. His aunt and uncle had been moderately kind for the first few
years, but as soon as his lack of skill in potions became apparent, the
negative remarks began. Apparently they viewed any academic deficiency as
casting doubt on the purity of their magical bloodline.
"But I wanted to play Quidditch with you! How am I going to be a great
Quidditch player if you don't help me?" Peter whined.
Arthur frog-marched the boy out of the dormitory bedroom. "Maybe you should
spend more time studying and less time spying on me," he said, before shutting
the door. He was in no mood to deal with Peter's spoiled moods.
The Gryffindor sighed and sat down heavily on his bed. He had thrown Peter off
the scent for now, but he would have to be extra careful in choosing the right
time and place for his trysts with Alfred.
The English boy pulled a mobile from his pocket.
Abandoned north tower at 11pm? he texted.
He barely had a chance to open his History of Magic textbook before a slight
buzz in his pocket let him know that Alfred had replied.
YES :)
===============================================================================
The north tower had once been used for divination classes, but now served as a
storage room for extra classroom supplies and seized items.
Arthur arrived a few minutes early. He set a subtle confounding jinx to confuse
anyone other than Alfred who tried to enter the tower. They would reach the
door and then forget what they were doing. Pleased with his handiwork, Arthur
spent the rest of his time hunting for pillows or cushions of some sort. He
found one old armchair that looked big enough for two. Even better, he pulled
out an unopened bottle of rum he had confiscated from the Slytherin trio. There
were no drinking glasses, but Arthur was ready to rough it. He took a swig
straight from the bottle.
The American arrived a few minute late, which was on time by his standards. He
grinned when he spotted Arthur lounging on the chair with a bottle of rum. "Is
that the bottle you took away from Francis last month?" he asked.
"Yes. Want some?" Arthur offered the bottle. He patted the seat next to him,
making room for the other boy. Alfred happily took the invitation and plopped
down onto the armchair. Arthur adjusted his position (making sure to keep the
rum from spilling—it wouldn't do to waste perfectly good alcohol) and soon they
had found a comfortable arrangement half-cuddling on the chair, with Arthur
mostly resting on top of Alfred.
"Y'know, I think I see why you aren't Head Boy," Alfred said with a laugh as he
accepted the bottle. He took a small swig and coughed as the fiery liquid
burned down his throat. "Damn, that burns."
"It's an acquired taste," the English boy casually replied as he tilted back
his head and showed off his skill at smoothly drinking the hard liquor.
Alfred laughed. "Come on, Artie, I'm starting to suspect you're only here to
drink." He claimed the rum bottle and set it on the floor next to the chair,
out of Arthur's reach.
"I happen to like drinking."
"Yeah, but it'd be a pain to carry your drunk ass around without getting caught
or having someone jump to the totally wrong conclusion. I mean, sure, you're
adorable and hilarious when you're plastered, and super affectionate, and you
strip down to like, nothing, at the drop of a pointed hat... but, uh...
actually, wow, maybe drinking is a good idea."
"I don't have to be drunk to take off my clothes."
The American grinned. "Prove it."
The English boy obliged by sitting up in the chair and stripping off his outer
robes and cardigan. His shirt followed next, leaving his soft skin almost
glowing in the moonlit tower. He helped Alfred out of his own robes and then
planted his lips on the other boy's mouth. Arthur tasted like rum and sex. Or
perhaps Alfred had just come to associate the taste of Arthur with all things
sexy.
The first kiss ended too soon (they always ended too soon), but Arthur
immediately titled his head to begin planting rough hickeys along the
American's neck. As Alfred sighed in pleasure, he ghosted his own hands along
Arthur's body, and, feeling particularly bold, used one hand to caress Arthur's
buttocks.
Arthur lifted himself up to eye-level as he straddled Alfred and grinned. "You
can give them a good squeeze, if you want," he practically purred.
Alfred began to grope gently, like he was giving a massage. A soft moan from
Arthur encouraged him to pinch the cheeks a little harder. After months of
lustfully eyeing Arthur's back, he discovered that they were just as tight and
toned and perfect as he had imagined. Alfred had never thought of himself as a
legs-and-ass man, but maybe he had just never met the right pair of legs.
"Artie, have I ever told you that your ass is amazing?" he said in genuine
admiration. Arthur deserved to know how absolutely sexy he was. And if Alfred
had any say in the matter, he would hear it repeatedly for the rest of the
year.
"Is it all you could ever arse for?" Arthur responded playfully.
"Let's just say I'm starting to get jealous of your broomstick," Alfred teased
back. He wasn't sure if he should thank the kissing or the rum, but he liked it
when Arthur was in a frisky mood. He returned his hands to Arthur's hips and
pulled the other boy into a hot and heavy kiss. They continued breathlessly,
exploring with lips and finger tips. Alfred's shirt joined the pile on the
floor.
Eventually, Arthur rested his head against Alfred's bare chest. It felt a
little cold in the tower, so he levitated one of the robes to cover them both.
The American wrapped his arms around the other boy and nestled his chin in
Arthur's soft hair. He was going to have a hard time waking up for class the
next day, given his shortened amount of sleep, but he didn't care. Every stolen
moment was worth it. He gently rubbed his foot against Arthur's leg and grinned
when the English boy smiled back at him. In the dim light, Arthur's smile
looked soft and happy and perfect. Alfred loved their kisses, but Arthur's
smile made him feel a different sort of warmth.
They cuddled as the minutes ticked past. Alfred should have felt sleepy, but
the fire in his veins kept him warm and wide awake. The English boy broke the
silence first.
"Alfred, say something in a Southern accent."
"Sure. What do you want to hear?"
"Oh, just anything."
Alfred grinned and drawled. "Well, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn what
you want," he said, leaning close as he delivered the line. Since it seemed to
please Arthur, he continued, "I talk like this when I'm fixin' to charm people.
And I do believe it's working, ain't it, sweetheart?"
"Maybe. Keep talking and pass the rum," Arthur replied, trying not to lose
himself over something as silly as an accent, even an accent spilling from the
lips of a handsome young man. The pleasant buzz filling his body was probably
just the alcohol.
"I dunno, darlin', that sounds like it'll lead to a mess of trouble," the
American said as he casually reached for the bottle. Instead of bringing it
closer, he pushed it away.
With a small huff, Arthur pulled out his wand and levitated the bottle within
his reach. They tussled briefly for control, but Arthur won the skirmish by
rotating his hips so that he sat in the American's lap. He wiggled carefully as
he grabbed the bottle, fully prepared to swear up and down that any resemblance
to a lap dance was completely accidental.
Arthur grinned as he heard Alfred's breath hitch. He took a swig and leaned
back on his human chair, pleased with his own deviousness.
"Y'all got some strange kinks, Art," Alfred finally managed, his tone a strange
mixture of exasperation and admiration.
Arthur tilted his head to the side and kissed the other boy on the cheek. He
relaxed in the warm embrace, enjoying the rise and fall of Alfred's chest
beneath him. Eventually they both heard the bells chime midnight. Arthur sighed
and pushed himself to his feet. He corked the bottle and slipped it into a
secure hiding space. They both dressed.
Arthur turned to face Alfred and grabbed his hand as they both descended the
spiral staircase that led to the base of the tower. "I should warn you. Peter
suspects," he said quietly.
Alfred frowned. "Your cousin?"
"He saw us on the platform, when you so graciously accepted the money from my
aunt and uncle."
"Hey, turning down free money is practically a sin." Alfred smiled. "Don't
worry, I'll be careful. And hey, at the Hufflepuff game... you should be
careful too."
Arthur chuckled. "You should worry less about the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game
and more about our rematch, my lad," he advised, giving Alfred a quick peck on
the lips before he disappeared down the dark corridor.
Alfred watched Arthur go with a sense of unease. The English boy had warned him
about the dangers of mixing sport and pleasure, but he had brushed those
concerns aside. Now the reality of being torn between two desires was starting
to sink in. Alfred had dreamed of playing on a professional Quidditch team his
whole life. But he didn't know if he could win the Quidditch Cup and still keep
Arthur, and oddly enough, he wasn't sure which one he wanted more.
Chapter End Notes
     Muggle technology isn't supposed to work at Hogwarts, but I forgot
     that when I included Alfred's video game console, so... I guess we'll
     just pretend that the cell phones and console contain some hybrid of
     magic and technology that works at Hogwarts. * Hand Wave *
     I also want to note that Alfred is using the singular y'all as an
     intentional exaggeration of a Southern accent. He's a Virginian for
     this story, because of course he is :)
***** Hufflepuff Pride *****
Chapter Summary
     Sexual tension intensifies.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Alfred wanted to spend the rest of the week fretting about the possibility that
Arthur would get hurt in his next Quidditch match, but he soon discovered a
more pressing concern: no one wanted to go with him to the Gryffindor/
Hufflepuff game! Alfred hated watching Quidditch matches on his own. He liked
to keep up a constant stream of chatter during the games, so he needed someone
to listen, or at least sit there silently while he talk at them. But as much as
he begged, everyone kept turning him down.
Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert preferred to use the time to play pranks since
fewer professors and students were wandering the halls. Once the match ended
they would return to the dorm and act innocent. Kiku was uninterested in a non-
Ravenclaw match and Madeleine was swamped by homework.
"Alfred, these essays aren't going to write themselves," she protested as they
sat at their usual spot in the library on the morning of the game. Other than
Ravenclaw students, the library was deserted on game day.
"Well, they could, if you used an Auto-Answer Quill," he suggested.
"How are you even a Prefect?"
Alfred grinned. "Lack of competition. Come on, Maddie. It'll be a short game, I
promise. Don't you care about the 'puff team and Badger pride? Please, please,
please?"
She shook her head with a soft sigh and closed her Ancient Runes textbook.
"Fine, fine. But if it lasts more than an hour, I'm leaving."
Alfred whooped loudly enough to draw a reprimand from the librarian and annoyed
glares from the nearby Ravenclaw students. He dashed to his dorm to drop off
his books and grab his warm Slytherin scarf. They met just outside the entrance
hall and walked quickly to the Quidditch arena, breath frosting in the air as
they looked for empty seats near other Hufflepuff students.
The American watched with his heart in his mouth as the two teams took the
field. He knew that Artie was fast enough to dodge the bludgers, but he still
worried for the other boy. The teams gathered in two huddles, one red and one
gold, to discuss their final pre-game strategy. The Gryffindors looked relaxed
and overconfident, as usual.
"Have you started thinking about the Ostara Ball?" Madeleine asked, distracting
Alfred from his trepidation as he watched the players mount their broomsticks.
Alfred blinked. Images of quaffles and bludgers and snitches appeared in his
head—the three types of balls used in Quidditch. And he knew about the Quodpot
balls. But he'd never heard of an 'Ostara' ball. Perhaps it was a regional
variant.
"The what-a-what?" he asked.
"The spring formal," Madeleine explained. "The school used to host a Yule Ball
on Christmas Day during the Triwizard Tournament. But parents complained about
the awkward timing, so now we have the dance in March or April."
Oh, the sort of ball that involved dancing.
"Do you have to wear dress robes?" Alfred asked as the Quidditch match started.
The players took to the sky in a sudden flurry of flying robes. He winced as
Arthur barely ducked a bludger sent his way.
"Of course you do, it's a formal."
Arthur dodged another bludger and it took Alfred a second to remember what he
and Madeleine were talking about. Alfred absolutely hated dressy occasions. The
last time he had been forced to wear dress robes he had 'accidentally' set them
on fire. Twice. And then he burned them with acid. And then he tossed them in a
lake. He was pretty sure they had been eaten by a squid. Keeping his eyes on
the game, he replied, "Then I'm not going."
"I'm not sure I'm going either," she confessed. "I want to go with Francis, but
I'm nervous about asking him." She twisted her fingers in her yellow scarf.
"You should just do it," Alfred said. He breathed a sigh of relief as Arthur
moved to the upper area of the field, out of the bludgers' immediate range.
Madeleine huffed. "That's all very well and good for you to say, but it's just
talk. I don't see you rushing to ask Arthur Kirkland."
Alfred tore his eyes away from the field and looked at his Hufflepuff friend in
shock.
"What? Why would I ask Arthur?" he asked, trying to hide the panic in his
voice. He forced a laugh. "That's ridiculous."
Maddie rolled her eyes. "I'm invisible, not blind. You always say that you want
to study his 'strategy,' but that notebook of yours is filled with more
sketches than notes."
The American slouched in his seat and turned back to watching the game. He
hoped that he could blame his red cheeks on the cold. He watched the game for a
few moments—the Hufflepuffs were leading in points and the Gryffindor team
seemed confused by the entire turn of events. He wondered how much he should
tell Madeleine. She was smart and could give him good relationship advice
(which Alfred desperately needed), but he had promised Arthur that he would
keep it secret.
"What do you think I should do?" Alfred finally asked plaintively.
"Just ask him," she replied with a casual grin, echoing Alfred's advice.
He nodded slowly, giving the idea serious thought as he turned back to watch
the game. He was already tired of keeping their relationship secret. He wanted
to be able to spend more time with Arthur than just a few stolen hours in
hidden places. Having to pretend that they actively disliked each other was
driving him crazy. And he could probably put up with dress robes for one night
if it made Arthur happy. He bet the Gryffindor liked big formal events.
The Hufflepuffs nearby cheered wildly as their team scored again. They had a
sizable lead—almost 100 points—and Alfred could feel the enthusiasm and energy
coursing through the crowd. Even Madeleine looked excited.
In the midst of the cheering crowd, Alfred gasped as he saw a bludger connect
with Arthur's elbow.
The Gryffindor Seeker gritted his teeth and kept flying, but Alfred could tell
that it was a bad hit—probably bad enough to break the bone. He couldn't stop
the sinking feeling in his stomach that it was his fault for agreeing to help
the Hufflepuffs. No one else in the crowd likely noticed, but Alfred could tell
that Arthur flew just a little slower and had more difficulty maneuvering the
turns. He could see that the Gryffindor was fighting his way through the pain.
Alfred bit his lip and watched anxiously.
===============================================================================
At the end of the hour, the Gryffindor captain called a short break. She
gathered the team for a huddle to plan their strategy given Hufflepuf's 150-
point lead.
"Arthur, if you see a chance to catch the snitch, take it."
"But they'll win," he protested.
"I know. We've got to think of the long game."
She reminded the team that their real rivals were the Slytherins. Taking a loss
against the Hufflepuff team was worth it because the 150 points from catching
the snitch would still count towards their total, even if the 'puffs ended up
winning the game by 10 or 20 points. The real danger was letting the snitch
pass by, which would give the Hufflepuff seeker a chance to score the 150
points for her own team.
Arthur nodded. He knew it was a strategic decision, but he'd never faced the
dilemma of having to catch the snitch when it resulted in a loss for his team.
He respected his captain and her strategy. As the time-out drew to a close,
Arthur drank a pain-numbing potion, secured his arm with a make-shift sling,
and took back to the skies. He knew he needed to act fast. With his diminished
ability to dodge, it was only a matter of time before a bludger knocked him out
of the game completely.
The Hufflepuffs were playing with a ferocity he had never seen from their team
before. They were taking more risks and he thought he saw the influence of
Slytherin techniques in the way the chasers and beaters moved. Arthur had heard
whispers of secret training between the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins, and
dismissed them as nonsense, because no Quidditch team would willingly give up
their secrets, but now he had to admit that the rumors seemed to be true. The
one bright spot, for him at least, was that the Hufflepuff seeker lacked
Alfred's cunning and sly ability to take advantage of Arthur's blind spots.
Perhaps the boy didn't want to share his secrets when he still had another year
at Hogwarts, but Arthur found it oddly touching that Alfred hadn't trained the
Hufflepuff seeker as much as he could have.
As Arthur dodged yet another bludger, a flash of gold caught his eye directly
beneath him. The sneaky snitch was hiding a brooms-length below. It knew that
one of the most difficult maneuvers on a broom was a straight-down controlled
plunge.
Unfortunately for the snitch, Arthur had a stick-shift broom and he knew how to
use it. He kicked the broom's levitation charm off for a second and fell
straight down, jolting his broken arm painfully. At the last moment, he
restarted the broom as his fingers brushed the cold metallic surface. With a
pained expression, he held the snitch aloft for the referees to see.
The Hufflepuff team had won the game.
===============================================================================
"Hufflepuff wins, 180 to 160!" the announcer shouted loudly. "Holy shit, this
is the first split snitch win I've seen in the past four yeas. And what an
amazing play, that was the Deadman's Drop," he continued, praising Arthur's
skilled flying.
The Hufflepuff students in the audience erupted in wild cheers and even
Madeleine joined them in jumping up and down in the stands. "Badg-ger, badg-
ger," the crowd began to slowly chant. "Badg-ger, badg-ger, badg-ger, badg-
ger!"
"Snake..." Alfred added softly under his breath.
"We did it! We did it!" Madeleine cried happily. She jumped up and down and
hugged Alfred. He returned the hug, but kept his gaze on Arthur as the boy made
his way to the Gryffindor locker room carefully holding his injured arm. The
American blinked in surprise as he realized that Madeleine was stealing his
Slytherin scarf. She quickly replaced it with her own and winked.
"A Hufflepuff will have a much easier time getting into the infirmary," she
suggested. "Now quick, what's the password to the Slytherin common room?"
Alfred told her, grinning as he realized that she intended to go find Francis
and ask him to the dance. "The seventh years are on the top floor!" he called
as she scampered off.
He nodded to himself. With all of the energy in the air, he felt like he had
consumed a whole potion of Felix Felicis. Perhaps Madeleine had the right idea.
They didn't need liquid luck, they just needed a positive attitude. He could
make sure Arthur was okay and then ask him to the dance.
Alfred grinned and raced along the path to the school infirmary. Pausing at the
door, he carefully adjusted the Hufflepuff scarf, making sure it covered the
Slytherin emblem on the breast pocket of his robes and the green color of his
collar. As Madeleine had guessed, the school nurse was more than happy to let
him visit his 'friend,' although she warned him that the Skele-Heal potion to
fix Arthur's broken arm would leave him slightly disoriented as it took effect.
"Still, I'm sure he'll be happy to see a friend," she said cheerfully. "I
kicked his teammates out because they were too rowdy and annoying all my other
patients. I CAN'T STAND LOUD VISITORS! But I'm sure you'll be quiet, won't you,
dear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Alfred replied, trying his best to act mild-mannered.
The school nurse led him to Arthur's bed and left to treat her other patients.
The white curtains blocked the view from the other beds, giving them a small
private space. Alfred stepped forward slowly, all of the trepidation he had
felt at the beginning of the game coming back to him in full force. Arthur
looked far too pale, his skin nearly as white as the bandages wrapped around
his arm. Alfred sat down on a stool next to the bed and reached out to touch
the other boy's hand.
Noticing the slight touch, Arthur opened his eyes. He blinked and reached out
to touch Alfred's scarf. "You've changed houses," he remarked, fingering the
soft wool.
The American shrugged and grinned. "Easier to get in this way."
"Like a wolf in sheep's clothing," Arthur murmured. He sat up, looking more
alert as the potion took effect. His gaze focused on Alfred, but his expression
was impossible to read. "I heard the Slytherins helped train the Hufflepuff
team for this game," he mentioned casually, like it was a bit of school gossip
and not a major betrayal.
Alfred averted his gaze and nodded. "Yeah," he confessed.
He waited for an outburst from Arthur, but none came. He looked up and held
Arthur's gaze. The Gryffindor seemed calm. Alfred wasn't sure if it was from
the numbing effects of the potion or if Arthur truly didn't care.
"Are you mad?" he asked hesitantly.
"Why should I be? All's fair in love, war, and Quidditch," the Gryffindor
finally replied. "That's why we end up in the infirmary so often," he dryly
remarked.
Alfred grinned. "I always thought it was because of your bad drinking habits."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up."
The American pushed his stool a little closer to the bed. He glanced around to
make sure that none of the nearby patients were listening to their
conversation. Since Arthur didn't seem mad, he decided to grasp the opportunity
to ask him to the spring formal. Though Alfred normally thought of himself as a
brave person, even he had to gather his considerable courage to pop the
question.
"Hey, Arthur... do you want to go to the Ostara Ball with me?"
An odd expression flitted across Arthur's face. He retracted his hand (the
American hadn't even realized he was still holding it), and leaned back against
his pillow. The English boy closed his eyes, looking tired and conflicted.
"You know we can't."
Alfred pouted. He hated when Arthur looked sad and unhappy, but he was also
annoyed that Arthur wasn't brave where it really mattered. It wasn't like them
dating would be the end of the world. The students would be surprised, but they
would get over it.
"Is it 'cause I can't dance?" Alfred asked, turning it into a joke, although
the rejection still stung.
"Alfred, be sensible. No matter who wins the Quidditch Cup, there will always
be questions if people suspect us. And I have to think of the recruiters. I
doubt a Quidditch team would even want me if they thought I was willing to pull
a member of a rival team."
"I'm not worried about the recruiters," Alfred replied.
"Of course you aren't, you've still got another year," Arthur retorted, his
voice tired as he rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes.
"Actually, they can recruit anyone who turns 17 before the start of the next
Quidditch season. And my birthday's in July."
Arthur's eyes shot open. He stared at Alfred, aghast.
"You're recruiting this year?"
"Of course I am," Alfred replied defensively. "It's not going to be much fun
here when you're gone. Not to mention Frannie, Toni, and Gil."
"How can you be so selfish?"
The hurt in the other boy's voice took Alfred by surprise. He suddenly felt
like the jerk Arthur had accused him of being, but he crossed his arms and
tried to ignore it. He wasn't going to lower his ambitions just to make life
easier for Arthur.
"Pfft. There are like a dozen teams that recruit at Hogwarts. Why do you think
I picked this school?"
Arthur gave him a look of utter disbelief. "The teams don't need a new seeker
every year. And Hogwarts isn't the only school they visit. So if we're very,
very lucky, they take one seeker per year. Didn't you check any of this before
you decided to transfer?" he asked harshly, scowling at Alfred.
Alfred shrugged. "Hey, I figured I'd be the best, so I didn't worry about it."
"Well, I recommend that you start worrying," the Gryffindor replied as he
rolled over, turning his back to Alfred. "Go away, Jones. I knew this was a bad
idea."
"Your face is a bad idea," Alfred shot back as he gathered his Hufflepuff scarf
and left. He hated when Arthur acted like everything was his fault. As he
angrily brushed past the door in his hurry to leave, Alfred didn't notice the
short boy with very familiar eyebrows hiding near the door.
===============================================================================
Arthur closed his eyes, the anger draining from his body as soon as Alfred
left. It was unfair of him to lash out at the clueless American, but Arthur
couldn't see any way that competing against each other would work out well. It
was better to end it before he got in too deep. He would always resent Alfred
if the American won a spot on a Quidditch team, and he was sure the feeling was
mutual.
Hearing a small shuffling noise next to his bed, the Gryffindor quietly readied
his wand. He scowled, displeased that Alfred hadn't respected his wishes to be
left alone.
"I thought I made myself clear," Arthur growled as he rolled over and pointed
his wand at the person standing next to his bed. He pulled back when he spotted
large eyebrows and a scared expression. Arthur sighed and stowed away his wand.
"Peter, what do you want?" he asked in exasperation.
"I-I was just trying to protect you from the Slytherin seeker," the young boy
replied. "He was right here disguised as a Hufflepuff! I bet he has an awful
plan."
"No, he was just here to annoy me. But why should he bother when you do it so
well?"
Peter frowned in confusion. "What?"
"Never mind," Arthur replied, grateful when the nurse returned to remove his
bandage. She declared his arm fully healed. Peter insisted on following Arthur
around to protect him from the wily Slytherin Seeker. After a bit of thought,
Arthur decided to take a nice long, relaxing soak in the Prefect's Bathroom,
which was conveniently a place his cousin couldn't follow.
Arthur lounged in the marble bathtub, but as much as he tried, he couldn't
relax. Alfred aggravated and frustrated him sometimes, yet the American had an
ability to laugh off Arthur's grouchy behavior that most people lacked. No one
else had ever smiled at him with such sparking eyes and happiness. No one
bypassed his defenses so easily. Neither of them had used the L-word, but
Arthur knew it could be more than a passing fancy.
Telling himself that he wasn't looking for Alfred, he checked the library and
the dining hall after dinner. Pretending that he was just looking for his
textbook, he looked in the potions classroom and peeked in the library again.
By the time he thought to check the north tower, Arthur admitted to himself
that he wanted to find Alfred. He still hadn't sorted out his own feelings, but
he couldn't leave things the way they where.
The north tower was empty.
Arthur glanced at the bottle of rum, but left it in his special hiding spot. He
owed it to Alfred and himself to deal with his own emotions in a level-headed
manner. He remembered the mobile phone in his dresser drawer, but he didn't
know what to text. Perhaps it was best to take a few days to clear his own head
and then talk it over with Alfred.
And if that didn't work, he could always try the getting-completely-wasted-and-
drunk-texting-Alfred strategy later.
===============================================================================
They didn't talk for the next week and Alfred soon realized that he had picked
up a tail. No matter where he went in the library, the dining hall, or even
just walking in the corridors, he could see Peter Kirkland watching him. The
Slytherin dorm was his only safe spot, and even Slytherin didn't feel as
welcoming since he had to watch Francis and Madeleine act lovey-dovey in the
common room.
Alfred was happy for Madeleine, but it was painful to watch her romantic
efforts pay off so well while his were falling to pieces. Arthur wanted him to
stay away, so he stayed away. God, he didn't even know what they were anymore.
He wasn't sure he had ever known what they were to each other. Alfred's grades
began to dive and when he failed an attempt to make a normally easy potion, the
potions master pulled him aside for a little chat after class.
"Alfred, is everything going alright?" she asked.
"Yeah, totally," he lied.
She clearly didn't believe him. "Would you like to have a cup of tea and talk
about what's bothering you?" she offered, pointing to her cauldron of boiling
water. It wasn't the usual sort of tea pot, but potions professors were
expected to be a bit eccentric.
"Nah, no thanks," Alfred said. The smell of tea would remind him of Arthur and
he didn't want to be reminded of Arthur. Everything reminded him of Arthur. The
color green reminded him of Arthur, making it kind of painful to live in
Slytherin dorm.
"I know there's a lot of stress floating around because of Valentine's Day and
the Ostara Ball. Let's just say, there's a reason I lock up the love potion
ingredients," she said, prying gently as she poured herself a cup. She clearly
suspected it was a romantic problem. She was right, but Alfred wasn't going to
admit that to his teacher.
Alfred shook his head. "No, it's not that. I'm worried about Quidditch. What if
I don't get an offer to join one of the pro teams?"
"Well, there's a lot you can do with your life that doesn't involve a
broomstick. You're one of the best potions students I've ever had, Alfred, and
I think you could make a real name for yourself inventing new potions. You
shouldn't settle for small ambitions, you know. A Quidditch player who wins a
game will be remembered for a few years, but a potion inventor is remembered
for centuries."
He stared at her blankly, trying to understand the idea that Quidditch wasn't
the most important thing in the world.
"But... Quidditch..." he protested.
She laughed. "Alright, off with you then. Just focus a bit more in class,
okay?"
===============================================================================
It turned out that Arthur Kirkland and his cousin shared one key trait in
common: sheer obstinate determination. Arthur expected that his cousin would
get tired of stalking the Slytherin seeker after a few days. Instead, Peter
maintained his constant vigilance. Arthur wasn't proud of the sentiment, but in
some small way he felt relieved that his cousin was irritating someone else for
a change.
Plus, it gave Arthur the chance to put his own plans in motion. He convinced
the headmaster to send out letters to recently formed Quidditch teams,
particularly American ones, inviting them to come recruit at Hogwarts. Nothing
could guarantee Alfred a spot, but he wanted to give the boy the best chance
possible. Arthur was clearly the better player, so Alfred would need all the
help he could get.
And Arthur held out hope that if they both found a position with different
Quidditch teams, they could possibly give dating another go after their final
match. It was silly and self-indulgent and would probably lead to heartbreak,
but he still wanted Alfred back.
Lost in thought, Arthur didn't notice his cousin lurking outside the entrance
to the Prefect's Bathroom. If he had been paying more attention, he would have
realized what it meant sooner. Instead, he entered the bathroom and changed
into his swim trunks without sparing a glance for the large tub in the center
of the room. He just wanted a nice relaxing soak to help him forget all of his
worries.
It wasn't until he approached the pool that he saw Alfred staring back at him.
Arthur held the young man's gaze for a moment, before walking forward and
gently lowering himself into the bubble-filled tub. He hoped that he didn't
look as nervous as he felt. He had come to the bathroom hoping to relax. Fat
chance that would happen now.
"Nice weather we've been having," Arthur said, hoping to ease the tense
atmosphere.
Alfred grunted as they both glanced at the windows and watched rain splatter
against the stained glass images. It had been raining for most of January.
Arthur flushed and looked down at the bubbles near his chest, wishing he had
chosen a less idiotic greeting. Alfred probably thought he was being
deliberately standoffish. No wonder they were both sitting there in silence.
Arthur stared at the windows and the bubbles and then his own swim trunks
before he felt his gaze drawn to Alfred. The American's bare chest was just as
handsome as he remembered. He drank in the sight, unsure when he would have a
chance to admire it again. Alfred's wet hair was a dark honey-gold, but one
strand still defied gravity. He averted his gaze before he started drooling.
Since the weather had failed, Arthur decided to try a different tack: sport.
"The Ravenclaw match is coming up," he observed. On second thought, he realized
that might not have been the best choice of topic either. If the Slytherin team
won the match they would go on to face Gryffindor in the final game. Him
against Alfred.
Alfred gave him an unimpressed look. "Really, Arthur?"
"I'm just trying to be polite," Arthur snapped.
"Don't bother. You want to win, I want to win. That's all there is to it."
An awkward silence filled the room. Arthur thought he should say something,
anything to let Alfred know that he still cared. He cared so much it scared him
sometimes and he couldn't find the words to say it. He looked up as a gentle
splash of water told him that Alfred was pulling himself out of the tub. And
with that, the opportunity was lost.
Arthur sighed. He didn't look over his shoulder and admire Alfred's backside as
the other boy walked to the changing area, except that he totally did.
===============================================================================
Alfred believed in the power of potions to solve all of life's problems. And
right now he needed a lot of help—he wanted to win the Quidditch cup, get the
boy, and find some way to carbonate beverages because he was dying from lack of
soda. If Arthur didn't want to date him, he'd just have to find some way to
take matters into his own hands.
As he flipped through his potions textbook, Alfred felt a sudden burst of
inspiration as his eyes landed on the perfect solution to his Arthur problem.
Maybe it was wrong of him to even consider the idea, but desperate times called
for desperate measures.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
There are some potion ingredients that are kinda hard to get around here. Do
you think you could send me a package? I've made a list. Thanks!
Love,
Alfred
Chapter End Notes
     You were expecting sexytimes in the Prefects' Bathroom, weren't you?
     Nope! Have some awkward uncomfortable silence instead :)
     I realize the badger badger song is now a decade old, but hopefully
     people still get the reference.
***** Tea and Potions *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred discovers a potion to cure his ills.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sitting near one of the few empty floor spaces in his messy room, Alfred held
his breath as he added the second-to-last ingredient to his potion. He gave the
mixture a final counterclockwise swirl and waited impatiently. In seconds, an
ebony sheen spread from the center, filling the entire cauldron.
The final ingredient was a piece of Arthur's hair, taken from the bed where the
drunken young man had spent the night. Alfred was grateful that he hadn't
bothered to wash the sheets, or indeed, even make the bed. Sometimes laziness
had its advantages.
As soon as he added the hair, the scent of tea wafted from the bubbling pot.
The American let it cool for a few minutes and then carefully ladled the potion
into several small bottles. He estimated that each dose would last one week, so
he had enough to get him through the final Quidditch match.
What happened after that with Arthur would determined if he needed to make
another batch.
Alfred tossed the left-over ingredients onto a convenient pile of robes. His
parents had sent enough for one or two more batches. He was just glad they
didn't remember their own potions classes well enough to guess what he was
making. To be on the safe side, he had requested a few surplus ingredients to
throw off their suspicions.
He lifted one of the bottles to his lips and gulped down the potion. It tasted
bitter and sweet, like very dark chocolate. Alfred glanced at the box of dark
chocolate rum cordials sitting on his dresser—a Valentine's Day present for
Arthur that his parents had included in their most recent care package (they
knew Alfred wouldn't keep it for himself because he hated dark chocolate)—and
decided that the taste was oddly appropriate. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but
he didn't see any other way to solve his Arthur problem and win their final
Quidditch match. As the potion took effect, he grew even more certain that he
was right.
===============================================================================
Later that week, in a dorm at the opposite end of the castle, Arthur stared at
his mobile blankly. He had finally worked up the courage to just text Alfred an
apology and he couldn't understand why Alfred refused to respond to his
messages. No matter how profusely he apologized or how much he begged, the
other boy didn't respond to a single message.
Alfred, can we talk?
Please, I'm sorry for what I said.
If you'll just talk to me, we can make this work.
He briefly wondered if the American had lost his phone, but that didn't explain
why Alfred had started to ignore him in the hallways and the library. On the
rare occasion he was lucky enough to catch Alfred's glance, there was nothing
there. No regret, no longing. He wondered if the Slytherin was just putting on
a good show in public. Arthur clung to that belief like a lifeline. Perhaps it
was wrong of him, but he hoped that Alfred remained deeply upset in private.
As the days passed and he had to listen to lovey-dovey couples make Valentine's
Day plans for dates at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Arthur felt his own
loneliness cut like a knife. Hewanted to spend Valentine's Day calmly sipping
tea as he listened to Alfred make terrible divinations.
Arthur had tried words and apologies and those hadn't worked. So he decided to
try the next best thing—chocolate. They said that food was the way to a man's
heart and Arthur suspected the saying was extra true for a glutton like Alfred.
The Gryffindor knew better than to send fine chocolates. Instead he prepared a
package of Cadbury Flakes, Curly Wurlys, and Smarties Chocolate Beans. He
included a small note saying, "I'm sorry," positive that Alfred would know the
source. Perhaps a few sweets would sweeten Alfred's mood.
When Arthur received an anonymous package of dark cocoa, rum-filled chocolates
on Valentine's Day, he felt his spirits lift. He didn't recognize the name, but
he suspected that Dean & DeLuca was an American brand. He felt inordinately
pleased that Alfred had thought to have American chocolates shipped out for
him. It didn't explain the boy's oddly avoidant behavior, but it reassured
Arthur that he wasn't the only one who still cared.
Rum cordials had never tasted so sweet. He savored a few bites before searching
for the other boy.
Eventually he found Alfred alone in the library. No doubt his Hufflepuff friend
had other places to be, given that Arthur had seen her kissing Francis in the
hallways an hour earlier.
Alfred looked up as the English boy approached. The room was nearly empty on
Valentine's Day, so he didn't have to worry about who saw them talk.
"Thank you for the chocolates," Arthur said with a hesitant smile.
"Wasn't from me," Alfred replied with a careless shrug. The American
immediately returned to his homework, treating the other boy like he wasn't
even there.
And with that, Arthur felt his heart plummet. He beat a silent and hasty
retreat, mortified that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Even worse,
after that debacle he was almost positive that Alfred didn't care about him in
the slightest.
The rum cordials suddenly tasted more bitter than sweet.
When Arthur saw Alfred's cheerful grin as the Slytherin caught the snitch in
the next Quidditch game—winning an easy victory over the Ravenclaws—he realized
that Alfred couldn't be faking his indifference. The boy had never been very
good at hiding his feelings, so there was no way he could keep heartbreak so
well hidden. Arthur didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to suspect he
was the only one who still carried a torch.
For better or worse, Arthur had to know for sure.
===============================================================================
Arthur looked at the curvy potion bottle with a healthy dose of skepticism,
suddenly doubting the wisdom of relying on Kiku's cleverness for a good plan.
He wanted to spy on Alfred, but he wasn't sure he needed to take it quite so
far.
"This isn't going to work," the Gryffindor said, pushing the potion away.
Kiku pushed it right back at him and gave him a stern look. The Ravenclaw
arched an eyebrow and in that small gesture Arthur saw countless words of
meaning.
Did he have a better plan?
He had to admit that he did not.
Kiku mimed drinking the bottle, and with a sigh, Arthur did just that.
He felt... strange as the potion took effect. With a shudder, he realized that
he was shorter, but his hair was longer. He patted his forehead and felt that
his eyebrows had nearly disappeared. His normal robes hung a bit loose, even in
the chest, although by all rights they should have felt tighter there at least.
Arthur grabbed a handful of his newly lengthened hair, perplexed by the strange
sensation. He had prepared for the... other changes... but it had never really
occurred to him that he might have longer hair.
"Do you know how to style hair?" he asked Kiku.
Kiku glanced at the hair and shook his head helplessly.
Arthur found some of the ribbons used for scrolls and used them to tie his hair
into two bunches on each side of his head. He just prayed that he didn't look
as ridiculous as he felt. Arthur squared his shoulders and prepared for some
spying. It was a weekend when students could visit Hogsmeade and Arthur knew
exactly where Alfred would be.
===============================================================================
In a careful balancing act, Alfred carried a heaping platter of sweets to his
table at Honeyduke's Sweetshop. Other students went to Hogsmeade Village for
the Butterbeer, but Alfred came for the sweets. He dropped the plate in front
of Madeleine and plopped down across from his Hufflepuff friend. She gave the
various options a discerning glance and picked out a chocolate frog and
peppermint toad to eat. Then she rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.
"Mhut?" Alfred asked, his mouth already stuffed full of treacle fudge. He
swallowed and reassured her, "Don't worry, I'm going to finish it all."
She shook her head and smiled. "I don't doubt it."
"Besides, sugar helps me do better at Quidditch," Alfred said as he took a bit
of the delicious cauldron cake. He offered a forkful to Madeleine.
"Is that why you keep winning?" she asked before taking a bite of the cake.
"Nope. It's because of my awesome skills!"
Madeleine laughed again and brushed back the curly hair that always fell in
front of her face. "I think you're spending too much time with Gil. It's
starting to rot your brain just like those sweets will rot your teeth."
"Are you kidding? My teeth are perfect." Alfred grinned and showed off his
toothy white smile.
Madeleine smiled back. She glanced to the side and then returned to their
conversation, restarting an old topic of conversation. "I still think you
should go to the Ball, you know. This might be your only year here and it's
such a sight to see."
Alfred shrugged. "I'm not going by myself. And unless you want to lend me
Francis, there aren't a whole lot of options."
"Don't be silly, Al. You can just ask any third-year and I'm sure she'll say
yes. They can only go if they attend with an older student."
Alfred widened his eyes in feigned horror. "You want me to lead on some poor 13
year-old? Dang, Maddie, I thoughtIwas the sneaky one."
She snorted. "You couldn't sneak your way out of a paper bag. But if you prefer
an older student, you could just ask that person behind you who's been staring
at you since you walked in."
Alfred whipped his head over his shoulder and saw a Hogwarts student with blond
pigtails bury her head behind a book. He couldn't see her face, but he bet that
she was blushing based on the red tinge of her ear tips.
The American pushed back his chair, stood up, and sauntered up to the spying
girl. She lowered her book as he approached. Just as he had guessed, her face
was bright scarlet.
"Are you spying on me?" he asked cheerfully.
She frowned and shook her head furiously. "Of course not! I was just watching
in horror because I didn't think it was humanly possible to eat that much
food."
Alfred laughed. "Nothing is impossible for Alfred F. Jones!"
"It makes me wonder why you don't have a date for the Ball," she replied
tartly, proving that she had been eavesdropping on his conversation.
"Well, do you?" he retorted. Alfred normally didn't find girls particularly
attractive, but there was something fascinating about how this one paired a
sharp tongue with innocent blushes. And he liked the intelligence that flashed
in her bright green eyes.
"Uh..." she said. She glanced away and her flush deepened as she set down her
book.
The American grinned. "I didn't think so. So what do you say?"
"I... um..." She looked up and there was something very familiar in her
expression, but Alfred couldn't quite place it. He gave her his best pleading
expression.
"Alright," she agreed with a small shake of her head. Then she crossed her arms
and delivered an ultimatum with a sharp glance. "But you had better know how to
dance."
"I'm a great dancer!" Alfred replied with an easy grin. It was true for a
certain value of 'dance.' No one flailed on the dance floor quite like Alfred.
She gave him a dubious look to let him know that she had seen right through his
lies, but she didn't back down. "We'll see about that. Meet me outside the
Ravenclaw dorm at 9 o'clock sharp and wear something nice."
"Sure thing, miss...?"
"Alice."
===============================================================================
As he had promised, Alfred finished his mountain of chocolates. Behind him he
heard Alice rush off sometime later, cursing under her breath. According to
Madeleine, she had glanced down at her watch and left in such a hurry that she
forgot her book.
Alfred walked over to her table and grabbed it, thinking that he might have a
chance to return it if he saw her in the hallways. As he picked up the book,
his gaze chanced upon Alice's tea cup. In the dregs he saw a squiggly line and
a feline. The images tickled a memory at the back of his mind, but Madeleine
called to him from the front of the store, derailing his train of thought.
Eventually he dropped the book onto his desk in his room. His room had been
messy to begin with, so Alfred didn't notice that it was a little messier. And
he certainly didn't notice that some of his potion ingredients were missing.
===============================================================================
After a mad dash back to Hogwarts, Arthur closed the door to Kiku's room behind
him just as the effects of the potion began to dissipate. He breathed a sigh of
relief, grateful that he wasn't switching genders in the middle of a hallway.
"You weren't joking about the 3-hour time limit," Arthur muttered as he caught
his breath. He had to run most of the way back to Hogwarts because he had spent
too much time watching Alfred eat and smile and chat with his Hufflepuff
friend. He was lucky he had even glanced at his watch when he did.
Kiku tilted his head to the side questioningly, gesturing in the direction of
Hogsmeade.
"It went... well," Arthur replied, a little hesitant because he still wasn't
sure if he had made the right decision in agreeing to Alfred's spontaneous
invitation. He had enough potion to last for the dance, but now he needed
proper clothes. He coughed and asked Kiku sheepishly, "Uh, you wouldn't happen
to have a dress I could wear to the Ball?"
The Ravenclaw boy gave him a ridiculously knowing look and pulled out a
shimmering green dress.
Arthur stared. It was a pretty dress and more than adequate for his purposes,
but it raised several questions in his mind about his shy friend. He decided
that ignorance was the better option. As long as it helped him spy, he really
didn't want to know why Kiku kept women's clothing around.
After he returned to his room, Arthur carefully stored the curvy bottle of Nyo
Potion into a sock at the back of his dresser drawer. He really didn't want
anyone—especially his annoying cousin—to realize that he kept a potion around
to turn him into a girl for three hours at a time.
As he heard steps pounding up the dormitory stairs, Arthur slammed the drawer
shut and rushed over to his desk, pulling out his textbook so he could look
like he was studying instead of hiding potions from prying eyes.
Peter burst into the room waving a handful of potion ingredients.
"Look what I found!" he shouted excitedly. He dropped them onto Arthur's desk.
His look of triumph slowly melted away as Arthur—who didn't recognize the
ingredients at all—continued to stare at them blankly.
"Gah! You're terrible at potions," Peter muttered. "These are ingredients for a
love potion. And do you want to guess where I found them?"
Arthur shook his head mutely, though he had a sinking suspicion.
"The Slytherin seeker's room," Peter said, confirming Arthur's worst fears.
Arthur stared at the rum-flavored chocolates sitting next to him with an
expression of growing horror. No wonder he had been so infatuated with Alfred
over the past few weeks. All this time, he had been dosing himself with a love
potion. It was brilliant and evil and so very Slytherin.
Despite Peter's indignant squawks, Arthur pushed the younger boy out of his
room. He needed time to think. The Gryffindor boy sorted through all of the
opportunities Alfred had to give him a love potion. The night he had gotten
very drunk, Alfred could have easily slipped a potion into his drink or his
coffee the next morning. Even Alfred's Christmas gift could have contained a
love potion.
Arthur felt like he was going to be sick. He didn't know what twisted game the
other boy was playing, but he intended to find out.
===============================================================================
It was a sunny day and relatively warm by late February standards, so Alfred
should have been practicing for his final match and his chance for Quidditch
glory. There was only one problem.
He couldn't find the snitch.
The whole point of Quidditch was to spend the entire game searching for the
snitch, but he wasn't supposed to have trouble finding it before he even
started practicing. As he dug around in the boxes in the locker room, the
training snitches continued to elude his capture. They weren't where they were
supposed to be. He wondered if one of the other teams had hidden the snitches
to make practice more difficult for him.
Honestly, he thought that Arthur might be enough of a competitive jerk to try
it. Alfred frowned as he thought about his rival. It pissed him off to even
think about Arthur.
A flash of gold and a bushy red tail in the doorway caught his attention.
His snitch was being stolen by a fox.
"What the... fox?" he muttered. Still wondering what the hell was going on,
Alfred chased after the fox. He ducked under the stadium seats, dashed along
the path to the castle, and ended up in front of the stables for the magical
animals. Oh great, his snitch was being stolen by a magical fox.
Alfred pushed open the stable doors cautiously, unsure what to expect inside.
Whatever he imagined, it definitely wasn't Arthur leaning against a stall door
with a snitch in his hand. But that was exactly what he found.
The American blinked and added together the pieces. "Wait, you're an animagus?"
he asked, his curiosity briefly winning out over his animosity for the other
boy.
Arthur scoffed. "Of course not. That was a kitsune. He's been here since my
first year."
"Alright, well, it's nice that your kitsune friend wants to help you win by
stealing the snitch, but I need that back so I can beat you." Alfred said as he
calmly strode forward, planning to snatch the snitch from Arthur's hand so he
could go back to practicing and not waste any more time. But before he could
reach him, the older boy tossed the snitch into the air. A flash of gold
glimmered overhead as it immediately hid somewhere in the stable. Alfred
groaned.
"You better help me find that," he muttered as he started glancing around the
room. It was bad enough trying to find a snitch in the open air. A room filled
with nooks and crannies and magical beasts was going to be a complete headache.
He sighed and started with the hayloft, doing his best to ignore Arthur.
Arthur followed him up the ladder. "Why do you have the ingredients for a love
potion in your room? And how long have you been slipping me amortentia?" he
demanded, his voice lowered to as hiss as he reached the end of his accusation.
Alfred rolled his eyes and turned around to face the other boy. He'd had it up
to his neck with the other boy's accusations. "You always jump to conclusions
and then assume the worst in other people. Those are your worst traits, you
know," he said, adding, "that and rummaging around in other people's rooms."
He looked Arthur squarely in the eye and said with complete sincerity, "One, it
wasn't for a love potion. And two, it wasn't for you." He didn't care what
Arthur thought about him, but he didn't want the boy to spread rumors.
Arthur nodded and Alfred had the strange feeling that the other boy believed
him. Arthur reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out the other
training snitch. He gave it to Alfred and said softly, "I'm sorry."
"Whatever, Arthur."
The American grabbed the snitch. For just a second, he felt a heavy pit form in
his stomach, an unhappy sensation caused by the pained sound of Arthur's voice.
He pushed it away, reminding himself of Arthur's worst traits and habits.
Arthur found fault with everything, especially Alfred's lack of manners and
distaste for grammar. He complained like a crotchety old man. He couldn't cook
to save in life—in fact, his cooking was probably deadly. He couldn't hold his
liquor either. He believed in imaginary creatures.
Alfred repeated the litany of faults in his head, but as he stared at Arthur,
his brain reminded him of the other boy's strengths. Arthur never gave up, no
matter what the cost. He would walk across broken glass to get what he wanted.
He was smart and clever and nimble. He had guts and daring, but he didn't take
foolish risks. He was the kind of guy you wanted on your side in a pinch.
But Arthur was also a ruthless Quidditch competitor and Alfred had finally
admitted to himself the truth of Arthur's earlier harsh words. It was a
terrible idea to date his rival immediately before a big match. Keeping that
thought in mind, Alfred climbed out of the hayloft and returned to Quidditch
practice without another word.
===============================================================================
Arthur sat next to the unicorn foal and his flying mint bunny friend as he
flipped through his potions book. He had memorized the list of love potion
ingredients and now was trying to find recipes that used the same spells. After
thirty minutes, he found his answer under the letter 'H'.
A hate potion revealed the worst traits and habits of a particular person to
the drinker. It used the same ingredients as a love potion, but mixed in
reverse order.
The description of the potion's effects at the bottom of the page noted that
the hate potion was recommended by the Daily Prophet's advice column for
witches and wizards who were emotionally attached to a person who did not
return their feelings. It couldn't make someone completely lose their feelings
for a loved one, but it did show the drinker the person's worst traits and
habits, thus discouraging them from creating a relationship with that person.
The English boy slowly closed his book and leaned against the back of the
stall. He felt relieved that Alfred's indifference was magically induced. Even
better, a hate potion was targeted to a single person. Alfred might hate Arthur
for the moment, but none of his feelings would transfer to 'Alice'.
Arthur grinned. Perhaps it wasn't quite the dance date he had expected, but if
attending as a girl was what it took to go with the person he fancied, he would
take his chances.
===============================================================================
Unbeknownst to Arthur, after Quidditch practice, Alfred also spent part of the
afternoon with his nose buried in a textbook. First he looked up two symbols in
a Divinations book. He had been wrong the whole time about the symbols he saw
in Arthur's tea cup. They weren't a cat and a squiggly line—they were a serpent
and a lion. And that told him something very important about 'Alice'. He looked
in his potions book next and found the answer he was looking for under the
letter 'N'.
Nyo potion, full name Nyotaika potion, transformed the drinker into the
opposite sex. Apparently it had been invented in Japan for reasons Alfred
really didn't want to know. On the other hand, polyjuice potion took a month to
brew, so it was the faster choice for someone who wanted to do a little spying.
Alfred probably should have felt offended that Arthur had decided to stalk him,
but he found it hard to be upset when Arthur had unintentionally found a way
for them to go to the Ostara Ball together, which was what the American had
wanted all along.
With a broad grin, Alfred threw out the rest of his hate potion bottles.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
Arthur says 'thank you' for the rum cordials. His birthday's in April if you
want to send more. Also, could you send another set of dress robes? I think my
last pair got eaten by a giant squid.
Love,
Alfred
Chapter End Notes
     "Smarties Chocolate Beans" is an old name for (British) Smarties, but
     I've used it here so they don't get confused with the Smarties sold
     in America. For curious Americans, they're similar to M&Ms, but with
     a harder shell. For curious Britons, Smarties sold in the U.S. are
     colorful little sugar pellets similar to what you put in a Pez
     dispenser, but softer and sweeter. Mmm... colorful sugar.
     For the record, rum cordials are real and delicious. (But also
     nonalcoholic.)
     The emotions and motivations in this chapter are all over the map, so
     if you want a little emotional cheat sheet, it goes something like
     this:
     Alfred:
     Ugh, geez. Arthur doesn't want to date me in public.
     Well, you know what? Screw him. I'm just going to drink a hate
     potion.
     Lalala~ I don't care about him. Lalala~
     Hey, random new girl. I'm totally over Arthur so I'll go out with
     you.
     Yep, Arthur's still a jerk. Total jerk.
     Wait, him being unhappy makes me unhappy. Goddammit.
     Oh. Oooh. I just realized something. Hehehe.
     Let's who the real sneak is now, 'Alice.'
     Arthur:
     I should just buck up and apologize.
     Well, that didn't work as well as I expected.
     Alfred seems different.
     Why is he so indifferent? I must know. Spy time!
     I was thinking a new hairdo, but I suppose a new gender also works.
     Two hours as a girl and I've already got a date. Wow.
     A love potion? No wonder I was completely obsessed!
     Oh, wait, never mind.
     A hate potion? No wonder he was completely indifferent.
     Hmmm. This seems like the perfect job for 'Alice.'
***** The Ostara Ball *****
Chapter Summary
     Yule Ball knock-off time!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Arthur rummaged through his dresser, doubled checked his book satchel, and
glanced under the bed. No matter where he looked, he couldn't find his Modern
Magical History book. He knew he had a tendency to lose his possessions, but
this was just ridiculous. Arthur needed the book for an essay and there weren't
any available copies in the school library.
He searched his desk again and tried to remember where he'd seen the book last.
With a sinking feeling, he remembered that he had taken it with him when he
stalked Alfred in Hogsmeade, but in his rush to leave, he had completely
forgotten his book.
He groaned and sent his owl to Honeyduke's Sweet Shop to see if they still had
the book. He left the window open so Merlin could fly right in with their
return message.
After checking his dresser a third time, Arthur realized that Alfred could have
grabbed the book. He was suddenly grateful he never wrote his name in his
books. It seemed sacrilegious to write anything in his books.
Merlin returned with a message confirming that his book wasn't at Honeyduke's.
Arthur sighed. Given his luck, he was almost positive that Alfred had picked up
the book.
Arthur made sure the door was closed and then checked the level of his Nyo
potion. He had enough for another excursion and he needed his book.
In his best cursive, Arthur sent Merlin off with another note. If Alfred had
the book, he was going to meet him at the library. Some traitorous part of his
heart was thrilled to be spending time with Alfred, but his more sensible lobal
regions reminded him that he needed to be careful to maintain the charade.
One hour later, Arthur—wearing his 'Alice' disguise—found himself waiting
anxiously at a library table. With a furtive glance, he spotted Alfred across
the room. The American caught his gaze and smiled.
Alfred strode forward, waving happily, and he dumped Arthur's book on the
table. He plopped into the seat across the table and grinned.
"Hey, Alice. I would've returned it earlier, but you're kind of hard to find."
"Thank you," Arthur replied. Hoping that Alfred wouldn't start to wonder why no
one knew a Ravenclaw named 'Alice' he immediately sought a new topic of
conversation. He spotted Alfred's book. "Are you studying magical beasts?" he
asked, pointing to the book.
Alfred laughed. "No, I just wanted to look something up about kidoonies."
"Kitsunes," Arthur corrected automatically.
"So, they are real?" the American asked as he tilted his head to the side. "I
checked my books and asked around, but no one seemed to know what I was talking
about."
"They wouldn't be covered in the regular books. Hold on a tick," Arthur said.
He pushed back his seat and crossed over to the magical beasts section. He
grabbed a book that he knew had a few pages dedicated to kitsunes and brought
it back to Alfred.
"Thanks."
The American quickly paged through the book. Arthur watched the other boy out
of the corner of his eye. Alfred raised his eyebrows in surprise as he began to
read about the shapeshifting powers of kitsunes. They could adopt the form of a
fox or a human and were intensely loyal to humans who had helped them in the
past.
Alfred spoke up as he flipped to the next page. "Wow, this is so cool. Like a
reverse animagus. You know, someone told me that there was a kitsune in the
magical stables, but no one I've talked to seems to know anything about it."
Arthur carefully considered his response. He didn't want Alfred to connect
'Alice' to the kitsune, but he also didn't want Alfred to think that Arthur was
a liar. He settled on a partial truth. "There was a rumor that Hogwarts planned
to add a kitsune to the curriculum several years ago. But it never happened.
The school decided that he must have run away to the Forbidden Forest."
"Yeah, but why would a shapeshifter go to the forest when he could blend in
here?"
"Hmm," Arthur replied noncommittally, hoping that Alfred wouldn't push further.
Underneath his clueless exterior, Alfred occasionally had moments of real
insight. Or perhaps even a stopped clock was right twice a day. Even though he
called Alfred an idiot, Arthur didn't really believe it. Alfred just practiced
selective intelligence.
The American closed the book and leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes I wonder
what animal I'd be if I became an animagus," he said. "I'd like to be an eagle.
It would be fun to fly without a broomstick."
"I see you more as a turkey."
Alfred laughed. "Ouch, right in the kicker. Well, at least it's easy to guess
whatyou'dbe." He grinned and pointed to her bunches. "Total bunny rabbit."
Arthur huffed and returned to his book. There was no way his animal form would
be something as fluffy and innocuous as a hare. He'd always hoped in the back
of his mind that he could be something truly amazing like a unicorn, but he
wasn't going to tell Alfred that. He checked his watch and breathed a sigh of
relief when he confirmed that he still had nearly two hours before the potion
wore off.
He halfheartedly wrote a few lines in his essay, then slyly looked up to see if
Alfred was still staring at him. He was. It was perhaps the first time Arthur
had seen a pensive and thoughtful expression on Alfred's face. He found that he
liked the image very much.
"Knut for your thoughts?" Arthur offered.
Alfred grinned. "Hey, they're worth a sickle at least."
"More like leprechaun gold. It seems perfect at first and then—poof!—gone."
The American glanced down at the table and Arthur could tell he had struck a
nerve. He hoped that Alfred wasn't growing annoyed at Alice's quips because he
was really looking forward to dancing together at the school formal in a
fortnight. Before he could think of something to soothe over the unintentional
slight, Alfred piped up.
"It's funny. I was just thinking something like that," he said. "I guess the
only way to know if something is real is to wait and see if it lasts."
Arthur glanced at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. He was burning up
with curiosity, because it sounded like Alfred was talking about them. "Bad
breakup?" he asked hesitantly.
Alfred shrugged. "I guess. I don't know."
"You're not sure if you broke up? How could you not know?" Arthur retorted.
The American absentmindedly drew circles on the desk with his fingers. He
sighed and started fiddling with his quill. "We were never very good at
talking," he explained. "And, just... well, yeah." He rubbed the back of his
head.
"I can see what you mean about having trouble communicating. So who was it?
Anyone I know?" Arthur pried, hoping that Alfred would fill in more details.
Alice wouldn't know the answer, so it seemed like a logical next question for
her to ask. Given that Alfred was willing to talk about their secret
relationship, he worried about how much the other boy would disclose.
Alfred glanced to both sides, checking to see if anyone was nearby. He lowered
his voice to a whisper. "Maybe. Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course," Arthur replied as he leaned forward, terrified that Alfred would
share details of their secret relationship with what he believed to be a random
student that he had only met twice.
Alfred grinned. "So can I."
Arthur rolled his eyes and pretended to swat Alfred across the shoulder even
though he was secretly pleased that Alfred had kept his promise. They shifted
to lighter topics and Arthur remembered how much he enjoyed simply relaxing
with Alfred. Other people reacted poorly to his often dark and snarky humor,
but the sarcastic comments rolled over Alfred like water off a duck's back. The
American treated everything like a grand joke, so naturally he didn't take
Arthur's grumpiness seriously. And on the rare occasions when Arthur was honest
with himself, he realized that he didn't feel particularly grumpy when he was
around Alfred. The other boy's good humor was a slight bit infectious.
The English boy closed his textbook with real regret as he reached the time
limit on his potion. Still, at least he would see Alfred again soon enough at
the Ostara Ball. His stomach did an unpleasant flip as he started to
worry—should he confess his subterfuge after the dance or allow the lies to
continue building? More importantly, he wondered how Alfred would react when he
learned the truth.
===============================================================================
Alfred spent some time checking the etiquette books to see if they had any
advice for the type of corsage he ought to buy for the female version of his
on-again-off-again sorta-boyfriend rival. Surprisingly, the books described the
proper use for at least fifty types of silverware, but they couldn't answer his
simple question.
He huffed and decided to go with roses because Arthur appreciated the classics.
But Alfred had to add his own special touch, so he used a spell to dye the
roses blue.
His midnight blue waistcoat and trousers felt itchy, but even Alfred had to
admit that he looked dashing with his bowtie and dressy cape. He put one of the
blue roses in his label so that everyone would know that he and 'Alice' were
together. He made a last-ditch attempt to straighten his bowtie and then rushed
over to the Ravenclaw dorms.
"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" the door asked him as he approached.
"Uh, they both belong in Ravenclaw?" Alfred replied. He wasn't surprised that
Ravenclaw used riddles instead of passwords.
"Wrong," a voice said behind him lightly. He turned around to see Alice decked
out in a shimmering green dress. She still had her hair in her usual pigtails.
Alfred smiled, assuming it was because Arthur didn't know how to style long
hair.
"I like the color," Alfred replied cheerfully as he offered Alice a blue rose
to wear on her wrist. He noted that she had arrived from the direction of the
Prefect's bathroom, but he decided not to comment. He didn't want Arthur to
know that he'd realized the gig was up when it was so much more fun to tease
the other boy.
"Because of Slytherin?" she asked.
"Because it matches your eyes."
She rolled her eyes. "You're unbearably sappy," she said, offering her arm so
they could walk together to the dining hall, which had been converted into a
ballroom for the night. Even so, Alfred could see her smile slightly out of the
corner of his eye.
"So what's the correct answer?" he asked, still curious about the riddle.
"There is no answer. The proper response is silence. Wisdom is about knowing
what you don't know."
Alfred scoffed. "Oh come on, that's ridiculous. There has to be an answer."
"Fine, fine. If you want a solution, it's because they both come with inky
quills."
They reached the dining hall and Alfred felt a thrill of excitement to see the
room so converted. As he watched the students in colorful robes dance beneath a
starry sky, Alfred was glad that Madeleine had convinced him to come. He
spotted his Hufflepuff friend and Francis waltzing together expertly. Her
crimson dress shined like a ruby under the soft, twinkling lights while Francis
managed to make his golden dress robes look elegant instead of tacky. Kiku and
his date were both wearing dress robes that resembled kimonos.
Alfred realized that it was one night of the year when students could wear
whatever colors they wanted, no matter their house affiliation. No wonder
Arthur wasn't worried that someone would realize that Alice wasn't a student.
She could be a member of any house and she could be any year between four and
seven. No one would recognize her, but no one would say anything because they
would just assume that she was a different house and a different year.
The American grinned, impressed yet again by Arthur's cleverness. He stood at
the edge of the dance floor and gawked at the dancing couples, wishing briefly
that he knew ballroom dances.
Tired of waiting for Alfred to move, Alice pulled him onto the dance floor. She
automatically took the lead and tried to show Alfred how to dance. Alice was a
skilled dancer, but Alfred couldn't stop stepping on her feet. They made a
circuit of the room, bumping into a few other couples along the way.
"Alice, I have a confession," the American whispered. "I can't dance."
"I can tell," she retorted as Alfred trod on her foot again. She pulled Alfred
to the calm at the center of the dance floor. "Just step right-left-right-left-
right-left," she said, counting off each beat for Alfred. "Don't look at your
feet, look at me."
The American followed her count. After a few moments they managed to mesh their
rhythms. As Alfred moved his feet to the beat, he realized that if he kept his
feet under him he didn't have to worry about stepping on Alice's toes. She
smiled at him encouragingly and the warmth in her eyes warmed him from his head
to his toes. In any form, Arthur looked best when he smiled.
The orchestra played for another half hour before a wizard rock band replaced
them. At that point, the dance floor filled with students jumping and gyrating.
Alfred joined in on their wild dancing and he whooped as the band played a
tribute to Quidditch. He could tell that Alice preferred the waltzing, but
Alfred like freestyle dancing. No one could say he didn't know the moves.
Alice looked bored, so at the end of the song, Alfred suggested taking a break.
They walked to edge of the dance floor. Alice nodded at Kiku, who gave her a
little thumbs-up before returning his attention to his dark-haired date. Alfred
didn't recognize the young woman, but if his suspicions about Kiku were right,
she probably wasn't what she seemed either.
Alice pulled Alfred close and readjusted his bowtie. "You really don't know how
to tie these do you?" she asked as she expertly retied it.
"Wow, you're really good at that. You know, for a girl," Alfred replied with a
cheerful grin.
She rolled her eyes and then tensed as Francis and Madeleine approached.
"Maddie!" Alfred shouted happily. "Why didn't you tell me there would be wizard
rock? They're so much cooler than an orchestra."
"Bonjour, mon lapin," Francis said as he introduced himself to Alice.
"What did you call me?" Alice asked sharply.
"Your couettes, they give you the appearance of a rabbit," the French boy
explained, gesturing to Alice's pigtails for emphasis.
"Alfred, don't you think it's strange that Arthur isn't here?" Madeleine asked.
Alfred grinned. It was obvious that his friends had cottoned on to Arthur's
ruse, but he was having too much fun leading Arthur around by the nose to admit
that he knew that Arthur was lying to him. Fortunately, he had a great deal of
experience playing the idiot.
"I'm pretty sure I saw Arthur not too long ago," Alfred said. It was true. He
had seen Arthur just a few seconds ago. Standing right next to him.
"Perhaps it was just someone who looked like him? Anyone with blond hair and
green eyes would look like Arthur," Madeleine replied. "It is a rather unusual
combo. I don't think I've seen anyone who met that description other than Alice
here."
"It's not half as strange as blond hair and violet eyes," Alice retorted. "Is
that eye color even natural?"
The Canadian smiled. "It is. Although I've heard there are lots of ways to
create a magical disguise. Some more... unusual... than others."
"Hey! I just realized that we're wearing the colors for all of the houses,"
Alfred said as a distraction, taking advantage of his reputation for saying
random stuff out of the blue. He grinned widely as the other three gave him
surprisingly similar looks of exasperation. But they stopped talking about
magical disguises, so Alfred considered it a victory for his special brand of
clueless inanity.
After a bit of protest, Alice let Francis redo her hair into "something
presentable." He spent a few minutes braiding her hair into a single plait that
started at the top of her head and elegantly cascaded down her back.
Alfred smiled to himself, hoping that Arthur wouldn't notice that it was a
French braid.
===============================================================================
Arthur had to escape from Madeleine and Francis. He was sure that they
suspected and their hints to Alfred wouldn't stay subtle for very long. He was
just lucky that the American was too oblivious to understand what they were
trying to tell him.
He suggested visiting the refreshment table and Alfred readily agreed. Food was
always a good choice for distracting Americans.
Arthur took a sip of the punch and quickly recognized the taste of firewhisky.
Someone had spiked the bowl. He guessed that Antonio and Gilbert were the
culprits, since they had already disappeared from the room. He warned Alfred,
but not before the young man had taken a full drink. The American nearly
coughed up the liquid when it burned down his throat like fire.
"Wow, that's strong." He looked at the glass and then took another sip. "But I
think I like it." Alfred finished drinking a full glass. He grinned at Arthur
and pulled him back to the dance floor. "Let's keep dancing! I feel like
dancing."
"If you call that 'dancing'," Arthur groused, though he let Alfred drag them
toward the clump of dancing students. With loud students surrounding them on
all sides, he wouldn't have to worry about Madeleine and Francis passing any
more hints to Alfred. Conversation was nearly impossible with the loud band so
close by.
He soon noticed that the full glass of firewhisky-spiked-punch had a strong
effect on Alfred, though Arthur couldn't decide if being tipsy made the other
boy a better dancer or not. His movements were a little looser, which actually
made his dancing seem more natural.
Arthur watched the clock carefully, still debating whether he should tell
Alfred the truth. With the time limit on the Nyo potion, his time was running
out.
He wanted Alfred to know, even though he worried that the other boy would be
angry at the lies. Then again, Alfred had been lying in his own way with the
hate potion. Apparently when confronted with relationship troubles, Arthur
disguised his true worries and Alfred lied to himself. It was a recipe for a
rocky relationship, but Arthur had always known that things weren't going to
beeasy. Being together hadn't solved their communication problems, but being
apart had only made it worse.
At a quarter to midnight, Arthur decided that he had to confess.
Alfred didn't even complain about leaving the dance a few minutes early.
Instead he quietly followed Arthur to the Prefect's Bathroom, where Arthur had
left his robes before drinking the potion. The English boy took a deep breath
before using the password to open the door. He expected at any moment that
Alfred would finally add together the clues and realize the deception. The
American gave him an expectant look, but said nothing.
"I, um... look, I've been less than truthful about who I am," Arthur began to
explain, finding that his natural eloquence had deserted him.
"Are you a kitsune?" Alfred asked with a grin.
"What? No," Arthur replied, thrown off track by the random question.
"Are you my mother?" The American giggled, his grin widening.
"No," Arthur said, rolling his eyes as he realized that Alfred was turning the
whole thing into a joke. He wished the other boy could be serious for once. "I
suppose it will be easier to show you," he said. He moved into the separate
changing area and slipped off the dress. Kiku had been very kind to lend it to
him, so he didn't want to rip the dress when he changed back. Arthur donned his
normal robes and glanced down at his pocket watch. He took a deep breath,
hoping that Alfred would react calmly.
Five minutes and one transformation later, Alfred stepped out of the changing
area. He saw Alfred's robes scattered across the floor, leading directly to the
large bath tub. The boy's glasses sat at the edge of the tub. The American
himself swam in the middle of the water, happily playing with the never-ending
bubbles.
He looked up as Arthur approached. "Hey, Arthur! Glad to see the eyebrows
again. I think I missed them," he said, smiling as he casually lifted some of
the bubbles to his forehead, creating his own bubble-brows.
Arthur gaped. He hoped for a calm reaction, but this was entirely too calm.
"You knew all along," he said with dawning comprehension. "You... you twat!"
Alfred swam to the edge of the pool. "I thought I was a prat?" he asked
cheerfully as he lifted himself out. Arthur glanced down reflexively and he
couldn't decide if he was relieved or not that Alfred was still wearing his
boxers.
"You can be both." Arthur crossed his arms.
Alfred frowned as he used a spell to dry out his boxers and his hair. He
slipped on his robes—for which Arthur was grateful because he didn't think he
could manage to have a meaningful conversation while staring at Alfred's bare
chest—but left his glasses sitting by the edge of the tub.
"I don't get why you're mad," Alfred said as he stepped closer to Arthur. "I
had a fun time and I thought it was a clever way for us to go together."
"I'm annoyed because I spent the past month thinking you hated me!" Arthur
snapped. He glared, wishing that he didn't have to tilt his head slightly
upward to stare into Alfred's eyes. Which were very, very blue without his
spectacles in the way.
The American's expression softened. "I tried, you know," he said.
"Yes, the hate potion. I do know. You're not the only one with a potions
textbook."
Alfred started laughing. "We're such idiots," he said in-between breaths. With
a final chuckle, he lowered his head, resting his forehead casually on Arthur's
shoulder. After a second's pause, Arthur raised his hand and gingerly threaded
his fingers through the other boy's hair. It felt good to have Alfred leaning
on him. He wasn't as touchy-feely as Alfred, but he had still missed the soft
touches and gentle nudges. He said the first thing that popped into his head,
hoping that he could convince Alfred to give it another go:
"We should try this again, without the potions."
"But I'm good at potions and kind of sucky at relationships," Alfred replied,
his face still buried in Arthur's shoulder. "And there's the whole Quidditch
thing."
Arthur lowered his hand and took a deep breath. He had been thinking about
their rivalry and of course he still wanted to win, but the sport suddenly
seemed less important when he felt the warmth of Alfred's body next to his and
could hear the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears. Quidditch had
barely crossed his mind for the past month because he had been so focused on
winning Alfred back. Surprised that he hadn't realized it sooner, Arthur
finally admitted to himself that he was more than a touch in love.
"Alfred, if I had to choose between you and a position on a Quidditch team—"
Alfred pressed two fingers against Arthur's lips to stop him from finishing his
sentence. Alfred lifted his head and gave Arthur a serious look.
"Don't say it. I don't want to win 'cause you went soft."
Arthur quirked his lips. He gave Alfred's finger a little lick and watched with
pleasure as the other boy quickly retracted his finger. Alfred looked surprised
and more than a little turned on.
"What made you think I would pick you?" he retorted instead of finishing his
sentence.
Alfred smiled. "Because I'd pick you too."
Arthur felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He always suspected that Alfred was a
romantic sap, but it was nice to have it confirmed. He suddenly felt that maybe
they had a fighting chance together. "I promise that whatever happens after the
final match, I'll come talk to you first and we'll... we'll work things out,"
he said.
"Pinky promise?"
Arthur nodded and they entwined their pinky fingers. Arthur wasn't surprised
that a childish person like Alfred wanted a pinky swear.
Alfred grinned. "Okay, now that that's all settled... do you want to come back
to my room and make out like bunny rabbits?"
Perhaps he wasn't quite so childish after all.
===============================================================================
At the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, Arthur debated the wisdom of
walking into the Slytherin dormitory. But he decided that the likelihood of
anyone being in the common room an hour after the Ostara Ball had ended was...
Alfred opened the door.
...apparently pretty good. Gilbert and Antonio stared at them in shock as
Arthur helped Alfred across the threshold. Then the two Slytherins began to
smirk.
Gilbert whistled. "Well, this is a surprise."
Alfred smiled back as he wrapped an arm around Arthur. "Hey, guys! Arthur and I
are dating but don't tell anyone 'cause it's a secret."
"Shouldn't you two be in bed right now?" Arthur asked Gil and Toni, annoyed
that his plan to slip into the dorm undetected had failed so spectacularly.
"Francis wanted some 'alone time'," Antonio replied cheerfully.
"Alone time with Madeleine," Gilbert clarified.
"We thought that Alfred would be mad."
"Boy did we get that one wrong."
Alfred grinned when he pieced together what they were telling him. "Oh, hey,
things are going great with Madeleine and Francis. That's great. Isn't that
great, Arthur?"
"Peachy," Arthur replied, distracted as he watched Gilbert and Antonio warily.
Deciding that he could deal later with whatever blackmail the two dreamt up, he
kept walking and pulled Alfred up the stairs.
"Eager, ain'tcha?" Alfred said with a wide grin.
Arthur kicked the door shut with his foot. He roughly kissed Alfred as they
stumbled to the closest bed. Alfred landed on his rump with a soft 'oof' and in
seconds Arthur had found a comfortable position straddling his lap. Arthur's
lips and tongue explored every delicious part of the other boy's mouth and neck
and strong jaw line. He helped Alfred slip out of his robes and Alfred returned
the favor.
In the soft moonlight, Alfred's bare chest looked gorgeous with just a thin
layer of baby fat padding his lean muscles. Arthur suspected that his own pale
skin appeared luminescent, but Alfred didn't seem to be complaining. Judging by
his lust-filled gaze, the other boy seemed like what he saw very much.
Arthur leaned forward and left a bruising hickey on Alfred's neck. He wanted
everyone to see that Alfred was claimed. As his lips sucked the skin, he
slipped his hands down and tweaked Alfred's nipples, drawing a long and
shuddering gasp from the young man.
Alfred sucked in a breath when he recovered. "Shit," he mumbled, glancing down
at his boxers. He gave Arthur an adorably embarrassed look. "I'm real sorry,
Artie. I thought I'd last longer."
"Don't be, love. That's no reason for us to stop," Arthur reassured him before
kissing him hungrily, enjoying every second as he let his passions take the
lead. Arthur felt pleasure racing through his veins like an electric spark. He
gasped as Alfred repaid the nipple-tweaking favor, grinding himself up against
the other boy.
Things went a little hazy as Arthur felt himself go over the edge. He spent a
few moments resting comfortably in Alfred's arms before suggesting that they
clean up. Arthur retrieved his robe from the floor, avoiding Alfred's eyes as
he slipped it back on.
Alfred changed underwear and grabbed a pair of pajamas. He handed a pair of
probably clean boxers to Arthur. They were too large, but better than nothing.
"I was kind of hoping I'd get to see you in a dress tonight," Alfred said
wistfully as he plopped into his bed.
"You did see me in a dress," Arthur replied as he changed into the boxers. They
pooled around his waist, nearly falling to the floor.
"No, not Alice, you. I bet you'd rock a dress with those legs," Alfred said,
giving Arthur's legs a very appreciative look. "Maybe high heels," he added,
half-closing his eyes as he imagined the mental picture.
Arthur glanced around the room looking for his trousers. He was pretty sure he
had flung them in a particular direction, but it was a little hard to find his
clothes in the messy room. He wanted to stay, but he was a little worried what
his roommates would think if he didn't return from the ball. Still looking, he
said, "Well, uh, I probably ought to go."
Alfred jumped out of bed and grabbed Arthur's wrist. "Artie, don't leave."
"Alfred, we live in the same castle."
"I know, I just... I want you here. Stay?"
"Alright, fine," Arthur huffed. "But I'm just doing this to make sure I don't
get caught in the hallways after hours."
The English boy let himself be pulled into the bed. The American murmured his
thanks as he buried his face into Arthur's shoulder. Despite his better
judgment, Arthur gave in to the warm comfort and decided he might as well spend
the night.
But so help him god, he was not going to let Alfred steal the sheets again.
===============================================================================
As the midmorning sun lit up the room, Alfred stirred. He opened his eyes and
then closed them immediately, his head aching from the bright light. He slowly
realized that he held a sleeping Arthur in his arms, forcing him to confront a
tricky dilemma. He wanted some of his own anti-hangover medicine to cure the
aftereffects of the firewhisky, but he didn't want to jolt Arthur out of his
peaceful slumber. Alfred suspected that Arthur hadn't been getting enough sleep
lately, a suspicion bolstered by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact
that the normally early-to-rise Arthur was still sleeping as the light
stretched across the room.
His head still aching, Alfred considered the options. He realized that Arthur
was still wearing his robes, raising his hopes that Arthur's wand was in close
reach. Sure enough, he slipped the wand out of the other boy's pocket and used
it to levitate the potion into reach. After a sip, Alfred felt much better. He
patted himself on the back for his brilliant problem-solving abilities.
Alfred spent the next half hour of drowsily listening to Arthur's soft snores
and feeling the gentle warmth of the other boy's breath on Alfred's cheek. The
snores stopped and the breath quickened as Arthur's eyes finally cracked open.
"Mornin' darling," the American said with a smile.
"Good morning," Arthur said with a cute little yawn.
Alfred admitted to himself, curled up in the warmth of the sunlit room, that he
was in love.
Chapter End Notes
     Turns out the best way to stop Alfred from stealing the sheets is to
     curl up right next to him :)
     For those who are wondering, "Ostara" (also written "Ēostre") is the
     Germanic pagan goddess from which Easter takes its name (just like
     Yule was the European festival that was later transformed into
     Christmas). I felt that if I was going to alter the Yule Ball into
     something else, this would be a good way to keep it true to the
     spirit of the books. According to the HP books, the kids get off a
     week for Easter, so it made sense to have the ball take place on the
     first Saturday of that break (i.e. 8 days before Easter). Maddie
     mentioned that the date moves around in March and April. That's
     because Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon
     after the Spring Equinox (March 20). (Yes, this is really the way you
     calculate Easter. No, I am not making this up.) So the earliest
     possible date for Easter is March 22 and the latest possible date
     April 25. Which means that the Ball ranges from March 14 to April 17.
     It also means that I have put way too much thought into this XD
***** The Final Match *****
Chapter Summary
     It was all leading up to this.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Ostara Ball decorations were magicked away and the Great Hall was quickly
restored to its primary function of feeding hungry students. Alfred joined the
Slytherin trio for dinner, and that's when he felt reality come crashing down.
Gilbert glared at him as the American took his seat at the Slytherin dining
table. "That was totally not awesome, dude," Gilbert said with a stern shake of
his head.
Alfred grimaced. He had been worried that his teammates would react poorly to
seeing him and Arthur sneak into the Slytherin dorm the night of the dance. But
before Alfred could explain himself, Antonio chimed in, "Yeah, we had to pay
Francis a lot of money."
"Uh, what?" Alfred asked, confused. He turned to Francis, who didn't look
annoyed with him at all. Actually, Francis looked pleased. Francis was in love
with the concept of love so it made sense that Francis wouldn't be upset by a
rivalry turned romance. The French boy would probably use the opportunity to
continue pushing for a threesome. Or even worse, a foursome.
"Don't mind their little jealousies, they're merely upset they didn't win,"
Francis said, calmly reaching for dessert as he smirked at Gilbert and Antonio.
"I still say you cheated," Gilbert muttered.
"Mon ami, I assure you, Madeleine chose me."
"What does Madeleine have to do with this?" Alfred asked, still perplexed by
his teammates' conversation. They seemed annoyed with Francis, but that didn't
make any sense when Alfred was the one dating a member of their rival team. He
was sure they disliked Gryffindors far more than they disliked Hufflepuffs.
"She was Gilbert's choice in the pool," Antonio explained, which didn't
actually explain anything. Alfred wondered when they could have visited a pool,
unless they meant the large tub in the Prefect's Bathroom.
"Then Francis started dating her and ruined my awesome chances of winning,"
Gilbert added, with an annoyed huff.
"It's your mistake for betting on a girl," Francis chimed in. Francis finally
took pity on poor, confused Alfred and explained that the Slytherin trio had
bet ten galleons on Alfred's dating prospects, even selecting a different
person and hoping to win the betting pool. Francis preened as he added, "I won
because I chose Arthur. But of course, I will pay for drinks after the final
match," he said, which mollified the other two.
Alfred laughed. He had been worried that his team would be mad and instead they
had turned his dating life into a game. As a fan of reality television shows,
he thoroughly approved. But one last question tickled at the back of his mind.
He only knew two of the three bets. "Okay, I get Arthur and I can kind of
understand Madeleine, but who the hell did you bet on, Toni?"
Toni grinned and pointed to the quiet Asian boy at the Ravenclaw table.
Alfred nodded, admitting to himself that Kiku wasn't a bad choice. He just
happened to be straight and probably not human. Alfred's gaze wandered over to
the Gryffindor table where he spotted Arthur eating quietly. The halo of light
that surrounded the other boy, illuminating his hair and slim figure was
probably just Alfred's overactive imagination. Still, Alfred grinned to
himself. He couldn't wait to tell Arthur about the Slytherin trio's dating bet
and watch as Arthur became adorably annoyed.
He turned his attention away from Arthur as the Slytherin trio started
discussing the final Quidditch match. Alfred felt a thrill of excitement and a
chill of apprehension run down his spine. He had spent his entire life
preparing to be a star Quidditch player and now he found himself facing the
test that really mattered. Slytherin had the lead in the point totals, but 60
points wouldn't be enough to guarantee victory.
Only Alfred could do that.
===============================================================================
After the excitement of the Ostara Ball, the students had a one-week break from
classes to celebrate Easter and enjoy the nice spring weather. Unfortunately,
professors loved to give homework over the break and tests were coming up soon,
particularly OWLs for the fifth years and NEWTs for the seventh years, making
Easter break far less enjoyable than winter break.
Arthur found himself having to catch up in several subjects, given that recent
events had proven a bit of a distraction. Arthur was naturally skilled at
Herbology and Divination, so he didn't worry about those NEWTs. Instead he
found himself with a lot of material to cover for the History of Magic and
Ancient Runes. Fortunately, Arthur liked reading, so he was happy to spend most
of the week with his nose buried in a book. It helped that whenever he wanted
to take a break from reading, Alfred was more than happy to meet him in the
Room of Requirement.
The room looked vastly different depending on which one of them entered first.
If Arthur was the first to arrive, the room presented itself as a cozy library,
complete with all the books he needed for his classes, a tea kettle over the
fireplace, and a soft leather sofa. As the crackling fire warmed the room,
Arthur could relax and contentedly study for class with a hot cup of chamomile
tea. And of course, once Alfred arrived, they discovered that the sofa was
marvelous for snogging and snuggling by the fire.
By contrast, Alfred's room was far less conducive to studying. His room had a
large bed in the corner, an even larger television, and superhero posters
covering every inch of wall. After several minutes of silent gawking, Alfred
admitted that it was an exact replica of his bedroom back in the States. "How
come no one told me about this place earlier?" he asked, falling backwards onto
his bed with a happy sigh. "This is perfect."
"They erased it from the school records after someone used it to smuggle people
into Hogwarts," Arthur replied as he examined the posters. Somehow he wasn't
surprised that Captain America and Batman filled up most the walls. "Nearly
Headless Nick mentioned it once after a bit too much ghostwine and I spent a
few weeks hunting down references in the restricted section of the library."
"G-ghost w-wine...?" Alfred asked with a little shiver.
Arthur chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he promised. Then he
distracted Alfred from ghosts the best way he knew how... by pulling him into a
kiss. Before they were more than a few kisses in, Arthur pulled back,
remembering another detail about the Room of Requirement—it was good at giving
students what they wanted, down to the smallest details. "Once moment," he
said, before walking over to the closet. Arthur smirked when he saw the choice
of clothes inside. He lifted out a short nurse's outfit and showed it to
Alfred.
The American gaped. "That's not in my closet back home," he hurriedly
explained. His breath hitched as he watched Arthur pull off his robes and
shimmy into the dress. The English boy tossed him a different outfit from the
closet. It took Alfred a moment to understand that the short apron was supposed
to be the entire outfit and another moment to realize that Arthur wanted him to
wear it. He caught Arthur's gaze and realized that they were going to have a
very nice study break indeed.
===============================================================================
Eventually they sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, shoulders pressed
together and fingers entwined. Arthur felt a brief sense of déjà vu,
remembering the last time they had debated whether to keep their relationship
secret. But a few things had changed since then; given that all of their
friends knew and so did most of the Slytherin team, he didn't think he had any
chance of keeping it completely secret. The real question was what he should do
about his cousin—who was still convinced that Alfred had been slipping Arthur a
love potion—and the Gryffindor team.
Alfred had a suggestion: the truth, or at least, an edited version of the
truth. "I guess you're just going to have to tell them what an awesome person I
am and how you completely fell in love with me because I'm charming and cool
and—"
"Ridiculously full of yourself," Arthur interrupted. Even if he did want to
make the relationship public, he couldn't see himself being quite so effusive
in his praise.
"But there's nothing wrong if they see us being friends, right?" Alfred said
eagerly. "I mean, we can both study together and maybe do some Prefect things.
That's normal, right? Normal friend stuff."
Arthur nodded slowly. They had successfully met together several times in the
library with no one raising a fuss (although it likely helped to have Alfred's
Hufflepuff friend and Kiku around to waylay suspicion.) And he could always
point to their shared duties as Prefects. "You know, if anyone asks questions,
I can say that the Headmaster is starting to become worried about the levels of
animosity between the two houses and remind them that we Prefects are supposed
to be role models."
"Hey, that's a good idea. Could we have kiss-a-Slytherin day?" Alfred asked
with a sneaky grin.
Arthur turned his head to face Alfred and smirked. "I think I can manage that,"
he said, before pressing his lips against Alfred's. As far as Arthur was
concerned, every day was kiss-a-Slytherin day.
They spent more time together in public and it did draw a few stares, but the
gossip died out after a few days when students found more interesting things to
talk about, like the Ravenclaw who broke several glass orbs when he stormed out
of Divinations class and the Hufflepuff who discovered a rare and valuable
collecting card in her chocolate frog package. Not to mention the duels and
relationship woes that naturally occurred among 300-some students living in
close quarters. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. They continued studying
together in public... and kissing in private.
===============================================================================
Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm glad you can make it to the final Quidditch game! Hogsmeade has a tavern
that rents out rooms and they're connected to the Floo Powder Network. Be sure
to wear green!
Love,
Alfred
===============================================================================
The next three weeks went by either too fast or too slow, depending on Alfred's
mood.
On the good days, he was excited to finally have a chance to show off in front
of recruiters looking to find players for professional Quidditch teams. It was
the entire reason he had come to Hogwarts and even if he had gotten a little
distracted along the way, he was still focused on becoming seeker for a great
team.
On the bad days, he worried about not being offered a spot or finding himself
on a team far away from Arthur. He could see that Arthur worried about it too,
but there really wasn't anything to be done, so they avoided the topic. Alfred
pushed the thought out of his mind and cheered himself up by convincing
Madeleine to make chocolate-chip pancakes.
Before Alfred knew it, the day of the final Quidditch match arrived. Students
and teachers packed the stands to watch Gryffindor and Slytherin vie for the
Quidditch cup. He waved energetically to his parents—they were easy to spot in
their neon green jackets, he really should have specified what shade of green
Slytherin used—then looked around for Madeleine and finally spotted her. She
and her friends formed another pool of green, and they weren't the only ones.
For the first time, Alfred realized he saw more then a scattering of students
dressed in Slytherin colors, even students from other houses. He waved to
Madeleine and she waved back before blowing a kiss to Francis.
Alfred shot a quick glance at Arthur. His rival gave him a sardonic look.
Alfred still needed help reading the atmosphere, but he was pretty sure this
look meant 'no, I am not blowing you a kiss.' Although it could have been an
invitation for a roll in the hay after the game. Sometimes with Arthur it was a
little hard to tell.
Francis gave his team one last pep talk before they got ready to lift off the
ground.
"Alfred, remember not to grab the snitch if they're leading by more than 70
points."
Gilbert scoffed. "Like that'll happen."
Alfred nodded. In the final Quidditch match, catching the snitch ended the
game, but it earned a team only 15 points. The smaller reward served as a way
to ensure that two teams couldn't tie and it also helped teams with weak
seekers still successfully vie for the cup. Slytherin was leading by 60 points
in the total tally, but that wasn't enough to ensure they'd win the cup. Scores
could change rapidly from fouls or scoring quaffles, so Alfred would have to
pay close attention, in addition to searching for the elusive golden snitch.
The game started with an unusually high number of fouls. The chasers locked
brooms together and tossed out extra elbows. And only beaters had bats for
aiming bludgers at other players, but Gilbert decided to get into the action
himself by using his broom as a giant bat to knock a bludger into one of the
Gryffindor beaters, successfully knocking the other player our. The referees
tried to penalize him, until Gilbert pointed out that technically it wasn'ta
foul, at least not yet. The refs grumbled, but admitted that he was correct.
The announcer breathlessly relayed the decision. "Well, folks, looks like we've
just seen the invention of a new foul today. Not a surprising development from
Slytherin. They'll probably call it 'Berting," he remarked, drawing laughter
from the audience.
Gilbert laughed too, accepting the name suggestion as a compliment. 'Berting'
would fit in with the list of Blagging, Blatching, Blurting, and Bumphing
fouls. When the refs made a call, sometimes it was hard to hear which one had
actually occurred.
As the Gryffindors took an early lead, Alfred kept one eye on the game to make
sure he wasn't going to get hit by a ball or another player, and another eye
out searching for the snitch. He watched the score, knowing that he had at
least some measure of safety as long as the Gryffindor's lead remained below
50.
Alfred soared to the top of the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of the golden
snitch. If he could find it, he could win the cup and likely ensure a position
on a professional team. And even if Arthur saw him go for it, the other boy
couldn't catch the snitch yet because his team was still behind in the total
tally. A burst of sunlight through the clouds illuminated the left side of the
field. At that moment, Alfred spotted a golden glimmer. He dived, speeding past
brooms and balls in his single-minded effort to track the snitch. He grinned as
the wind rushed past, feeling himself closing in on the snitch.
At the last possible moment, Arthur intercepted his path, blocking Alfred's
view of the snitch for a critical second. Alfred dodged around the other
seeker, but by that point the snitch had disappeared from view. He swore under
his breath. Although he wasn't mad at Arthur, the American was still upset that
he had been denied his chance at glory. The announcer praised Arthur's blocking
efforts and the Gryffindor fans cheered.
"You're not going to win that easily," Arthur remarked as he dodged a bludger
with his normal easy grace.
Alfred smirked. "But I am going to win," he retorted.
They soon took separate paths—Arthur searching high and Alfred looking low.
Closer to the ground he had to dodge more bludgers and players, but now he had
a hunch that the snitch was going to stay close to the action this game. He
made a circuit along the stands, smiling as he passed Madeleine and her fellow
green-robed Hufflepuffs.
After two hours of searching for the snitch, Alfred suddenly felt a wave of
confusion roll over him. He glanced around the stadium, trying to remember
where he had been looking and what he was looking for. He knew he was searching
for something, but the thought danced out of his reach. He shook his head a few
times, trying to clear his thoughts.
A minute later Arthur flew next to him. "Go see the mediwizard," the boy
whispered urgently, before flying off again.
Alfred frowned, still confused. He didn't think he was looking for a
mediwizard, but he trusted Arthur, so he flew down to the medic's tent. Alfred
scratched his head, trying to remember what he wanted as the mediwizard rushed
to his side.
She took one look at him and recognized a confundus charm.
After a brief pause to remove the curse (which earned a rare foul for
Gryffindor), Alfred returned to the game with renewed determination. He was
going to win. He had to.
===============================================================================
Arthur felt his heart race as the Gryffindor team finally managed a 50-point
lead. He quickly glanced at Alfred to see if the Slytherin seeker had spotted
anything. Alfred dived forward and Arthur raced after him, even though he
suspected it might be a feint. The American suddenly swung out of the way,
giving Arthur almost no notice as a bludger came hurtling forward. Arthur
managed to avoid getting hit in the body, but the bludger still sent his
broomstick spinning. It took a moment to clear his head.
Alfred took that opportunity to shoot straight up. Arthur wasn't sure if it was
another feint, the same tactic Alfred had used in their first game, but he
couldn't afford to be wrong. The Gryffindor seeker followed, angling his
broomstick nearly vertical. He spotted the golden snitch ahead and realized
that it was the real event. Alfred had a small lead, but Arthur had the
advantage of a lighter body.
The next few seconds felt like an eternity. Arthur reminded himself to breathe
as he stretched his hand to the sky. They were nearly side by side as they
caught up with the snitch high above the stadium and the cheering crowds. At
the last moment, Arthur darted ahead by a handbreadth. He closed his fist and
as they pulled to a stop, soaring above the crowds, it took the Gryffindor
seeker a moment to realize he had caught the snitch.
===============================================================================
Back on the ground, the Gryffindors cheered wildly. Alfred tried to muzzle the
feeling of disappointment welling in his stomach. He avoided Arthur's gaze.
Once he managed to control his feelings, he would go over and congratulate
Arthur, but he was still dealing with the aftermath of coming so close and
having victory snatched away.
As Alfred fumed and then felt bad about fuming, the Headmaster brought the
Quidditch Trophy to the center of the field. The Gryffindor team eagerly
crowded around as the red-garbed students in the stands cheered wildly. Alfred
finally worked up the courage to glance at Arthur out of the corner of his eye.
The other boy stood at the edges, looking moderately pleased, though a bit
worried. Alfred took some comfort in the fact that Arthur wasn't celebrating as
wildly as his teammates.
The Headmaster prepared to speak—no doubt ready to award the cup—but Francis
interrupted. "Excusez-moi, I believe that belongs to us," he said, ambling up
to the pitch with a confident grin.
"Don't they teach maths in Slytherin? We're clearly fifteen points ahead," one
of the Gryffindors retorted, putting himself between Francis and cup.
"Ah, I happen to know that we are fifteen points ahead because of those thirty
points you owe us from our third match." Francis pulled a book out from his
robe. "See, I checked the rules, and a team keeps their points if a match ends
through no fault of their own." His gaze flickered to Arthur. "And the person
who was punished for hexing Kirkland's broom in the third match was a
Gryffindor, was he not?"
Alfred watched Arthur's expression shift from confusion to realization. He
could see the rest of the Gryffindor team following the same mental path.
Arthur must have told them about Peter's hex on the broom, but none of them had
thought to check the rules to see if it made any difference in the final score.
He could see Arthur mentally kicking himself.
"You could have mentioned the score change at the beginning of the game," the
Headmaster remarked as he stroked his beard. "Is he right?" he asked the
referees.
The referees pulled out their thick rule book. The audience grew silent as they
watched the unfolding drama on the field. After a few minutes, the referees
looked up and grudgingly confirmed that Francis was correct. Scores could be
contested at any point before the trophy was awarded.
The Headmaster shrugged and handed Francis the trophy. "I suppose those are the
rules, if you want to win in this manner..." he said.
"It's even more awesome to win the sneaky way," Gilbert said with a grin.
"Vive les serpents!" Francis shouted. Antonio grinned as he helped Francis lift
up the trophy, holding it above their heads. A different (and smaller) section
of the stadium started to cheer. Slytherins, as a house, didn't care how you
won. The important part was winning.
Alfred felt like it was his turn to feel shocked and a little torn. His team
had won (which he had wanted), but they hadn't won because of his skill or
daring flying. He felt his gaze drawn to Arthur. The American raised his hands
in a helpless gesture, trying to wordlessly communicate that he had no idea
that his teammates would snatch victory from the lion's jaws of defeat. Arthur
gave a little shrug.
At that moment, Alfred noticed the headmaster watching them. "Alfred, would you
mind coming to my office after you speak with the recruiters?" he said. Alfred
nodded, before watching as the Headmaster went over to speak to Arthur. Even
though Alfred wanted to stay and talk to Arthur, his teammates pulled him back
to the Slytherin lockers for an impromptu celebration. Alfred joined them, but
his heart wasn't in it.
It felt like his heart was still back on the field.
===============================================================================
Arthur walked to the reserved section of the stands, feeling a little jittery
from nerves, but still excited to meet with the recruiters. After they had seen
him catch the snitch, he had a good feeling that at least one team would want
him as their seeker.
To Arthur's great distress, the recruiters congratulated him on his impressive
flying and on winning the race to catch the snitch, but they admitted that
their teams were primarily looking for chasers or beaters. They already had
their star seekers. Other players came and went, but a seeker could stay on a
team for a decade or so. The recruiters said that they would continue watching
his career with great interest, but they preferred to hire a seeker with
several years of professional, post-Hogwarts experience.
Arthur frowned and walked to the next group of recruiters, who repeated nearly
the same lines. The English teams were full, as were the European ones. He
skipped the Irish teams, and found himself at the end of the line—with the
Americans.
The recruiter from the Fitchburg Finches gave Arthur a look of surprise.
Hogwarts students rarely wanted to cross the pond, especially since the
American Quidditch teams ranked low internationally. "If you're really
interested, we could use a seeker of your caliber," she said, after introducing
herself as Emily. "Our seeker has been talking about moving over into the
Quodpot leagues, since they make better money," she added, rubbing her chin
thoughtfully. "Let me send him a message, see if he's made a final decision,
and I'll give you an answer when I hear back."
"That sounds lovely," Arthur said, watching as she sent a text with her mobile.
He suddenly felt a stab of guilt that he was taking a spot away from Alfred.
"I'm surprised you're not recruiting the American seeker," he admitted.
Emily shrugged. "He came and talked to us right away. I hate to break anyone's
dreams, but he's already too big for the spot. Don't get me wrong, he's a great
flyer, but you need a certain build to do well as a seeker. Fast and light,
that's the ticket."
Arthur nodded. He usually didn't think of his short, slim frame as an
advantage, but in the game of Quidditch it truly was. The knowledge that Alfred
was never going to receive the spot assuaged his guilt slightly. He gave the
recruiter his mobile number so she could get in touch once she heard back from
her current seeker. She seemed surprised and pleased that he was already
acquainted with muggle technology.
"You know, I think you'll do well in America," Emily said with a broad smile.
===============================================================================
After meeting with the Quidditch recruiters, Arthur walked to the Headmaster's
office with a feeling of trepidation. He suspected that the meeting with Alfred
and the Headmaster was going to be about the confundus charm that had been cast
on Alfred during the game. The team lost points because it counted as a foul,
but he imagined that the Headmaster would want to do more investigation.
His suspicions were correct.
"One student hexing another student is a serious matter," the Headmaster said,
giving them a both stern look. "As prefects, I expect you to tell me what you
know. Because somehow, I feel there's something more than just Quidditch
rivalry going on here."
Arthur bit his lip. He felt honor-bound to share his suspicious, but he didn't
want his cousin to be harshly punished for his childish antics. Still, he
trusted the Headmaster to be fair. "It was probably Peter," Arthur admitted
finally, after a moment of silence.
"Your cousin? That would be rather strange," the Headmaster asked, stroking his
beard. "To hex your broom one game and then turn around and hex your opponent,"
he added, pointing to Alfred when he said the word opponent.
Arthur shrugged. "Perhaps he felt guilty and wanted to even the score?"
The Headmaster chuckled. "Ah, the classic 'two wrongs make a right' logic.
Still, something leads me to believe that your cousin had a different goal in
mind." He turned to face Alfred, watching the American closely. "Do you have
any ideas, Alfred?"
The American shook his head. Then he bit his lip, obviously hiding something.
If Arthur didn't already know that Alfred was hiding their secret relationship,
he would have suspected the American of something awful, based on his guilty
expression.
"Really, not a single clue?" the Headmaster asked, leaning forward. "You know,
Alfred, one student hexing another student is a serious matter."
Arthur frowned, suddenly suspecting that they weren't talking about the
confundus charm after all. He realized that Peter—after telling Arthur about
the love potion ingredients in Alfred's room—must have taken his suspicions
about Alfred to the Headmaster. With the ingredients in his room as proof, the
evidence was stacked against Alfred. And Arthur wasn't in a good place to
defend the other boy, since claiming that he actually did love Alfred would
just appear to be proof that he was under a love spell. In fact, the only way
to help the other boy would be to act like he hated him, because that would
show that Alfred hadn't cast a spell on him. Alfred would be vindicated either
way—eventually. But Arthur had the power to nip any suspicions in the bud with
a few tart words.
Arthur quickly frowned. "Excuse me, Headmaster, but if you're going to do
something about the Slytherins, you should stop them from using dirty tricks to
win Quidditch games," he said, glaring at Alfred. The American's eyes filled
with confusion and then hurt, but Arthur carefully maintained his scowl.
The Headmaster glanced at him sharply. "Arthur, I'm surprised at you. I thought
it was very kind of you to tell Alfred that he had been confounded."
The Gryffindor seeker shrugged. "Slytherins win by cheating, but Gryffindors
win with fair play," he said. "I didn't want us to win because of Peter's hex.
I guess the Slytherins don't have a problem with that," he added tartly.
Alfred sucked in a breath, looking pained and bewildered. Arthur felt the boy's
sad expression hit him like a punch in the gut. His composure started to crack
and he was grateful when Peter burst out from behind a curtain—giving them all
a distraction. The younger Kirkland pointed a finger at Alfred. "I confounded
him because he used a love potion to make Arthur go all wobbly!" he shouted. "I
know he did. He had the ingredients in his room and everything!"
The American shook his head and stared at the floor, refusing to meet Arthur's
gaze. "It was for a hate potion," he confessed, his boisterous voice reduced to
a monotone. "And it was for me." He looked up at the Headmaster and asked, "If
you took the ingredients out of my room, could I have them back? I think I need
to make some more."
The Headmaster shook his head, drawing all of the wrong conclusions from their
little scene of anger and hurt, just as Arthur wanted. He walked forward and
patted Alfred on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but they are restricted
ingredients," he said with genuine sympathy. He then turned to face Peter. "I
understand why you thought what you were doing was right, however, confounding
another student is wrong, Peter. I have no choice but to ban you from playing
on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts for the rest of your time here."
Peter stared at the Headmaster in shock. He cajoled and begged and whined, but
no matter what he said, he couldn't convince the older man to change his mind.
Arthur felt some pleasure that his annoying cousin was finally getting his
comeuppance, but even that pleasure faded as soon as he noticed that Alfred had
slipped away. He waited until the Headmaster finally sent Peter to detention,
and then hurried to find Alfred. He needed to explain himself; he just hoped
that Alfred would understand.
===============================================================================
Alfred curled up under his sheets and wished that the knocking at his window
would go away. He could hear Arthur, outside on his broomstick, calling for him
to open the window and let him in. He resolutely ignored the other boy. "Go
away! There's nothing you can say to convince me to open the window!" Alfred
finally shouted.
"You pinky swore that we would talk after the final match," Arthur shouted
back.
Okay, there was one thing Arthur could say to convince him to open the window.
The American sighed, but climbed out of bed and finally opened the window.
Arthur was right; he believed in the sanctity of the pinky promise.
Arthur set his broomstick against the wall and they stood facing each other. A
flood of words poured out from Arthur's mouth, as he explained why he had acted
like he disliked Alfred in front of Peter and the Headmaster. Alfred wanted to
stay angry, but he felt the vestiges of his anger dissipate as he realized that
Arthur had been trying to make things better. Still, he couldn't help but
wonder if any of Arthur's comments were true. "Are you annoyed that we won?
With how we won?" Alfred asked.
Arthur sighed and sat down on the bed. "It'd be a lie to say that I wasn't...
but it was my own fault for not thinking to check. I knew Peter had cast the
spell. I should have realized that it would change the score."
Alfred sat down next to him. He laughed dryly. "Not that winning actually
mattered. No one offered me a seeker position." He sighed and slumped
backwards, lowering his upper body to the bed as his feet rested against the
floor. "One American recruiter said I should try out to be their spare beater.
She thought I had the build for it."
"For what it's worth, I agree. You'd be a great beater."
"I don't know. Maybe I should stay at Hogwarts and finish my seventh year here.
I bet Maddie would like that," Alfred said, turning his head to face Arthur.
"And you're going to be with some English team, so we could still see each
other," his tone hopeful.
Arthur glanced down at the floor, inwardly pleased that Alfred had thought
about staying in England for his sake. "I couldn't get a guaranteed seeker spot
either," he admitted, "though one team said maybe." His gaze drifting to Alfred
as he delivered the most important part. "They're an American team."
Alfred blinked at him. "You're willing to come to America?" he asked, eyes
widening in surprise and delight. "I didn't think... wow, that's great!"
"Perhaps, if they have a spot for me," Arthur said, the rest of his sentence
interrupted as Alfred crushed him in a bear hug. Arthur slowly wrapped his arms
around the other boy, returning the hug and basking in the feeling of happiness
and contentment.
For the first time in a long time, he felt that everything was going to turn
out alright.
Chapter End Notes
     The Quidditch Final and its aftermath isn't going to fit into one
     chapter, so here's part one. If you realized that the score from the
     third match was going to matter, congratulations! You're doing better
     than the Gryffindor team. And that's how you win with cunning :)
***** Snake and Lion *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred starts to like divination.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Arthur was immensely grateful that they were both still wearing their robes
when Alfred's parents opened the door and walked into the room. Arthur quickly
jumped off of the bed, wiping a bit of saliva from his chin and hoping his
flush would quickly fade.
"Alfred, sweetie, that was a wonderful Quidditch game!" Mrs. Jones said
happily, either completely oblivious to what she was interrupting or willing to
pretend that she was oblivious. She turned and smiled at Arthur. "You too,
Arthur. You played beautifully out there."
"Uh, thank you, ma'am."
"I told you to call me Amelia," she replied with a smile. She took a few steps
into the room and her expression fell. "This room is a mess!" she said,
gesturing to the piles of clothing on the floor and the towering heap of books
on the desk.
"I was busy practicing for Quidditch," Alfred protested. "Besides, you can see,
like, half the floor," he added, spreading his arms to show how clean the room
was based on his own very low standards. Arthur hadn't been paying much
attention to the messiness of the room, but he had to admit that Alfred's
mother had a point. The room looked like it was occupied by a herd of elephants
instead of just one boy. Alfred herded his parents to the door. "Hey, how about
we go to Hogsmeade? I'm hungry and they have a nice sweet shop!" he said,
trying to distract them from the messiness.
"We already feed you too many sweets," his mother replied. "But I thought the
tea shop near the inn looked nice. What do you think, George?"
Alfred stepped closer to Arthur as his parents discussed their plans for the
rest of the day. "Sorry, between the recruiters and the Headmaster I kind of
forgot my parents were coming to meet me here after the game," he whispered
apologetically.
"I understand," Arthur replied with a smile and a shrug.
Even though Arthur intended to leave and give Alfred some time with his parents
during their visit, he found himself joining them for tea at Amelia's
insistence. She also invited Madeleine, explaining that she wanted to meet
Alfred's other "best friend." Arthur felt an unexpected flood of happiness when
Alfred corrected his mother—"Arthur's my boyfriend, Mom." Lovely people that
they were, Alfred's parents didn't even bat an eye.
They found Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop mostly empty when they arrived—not
surprising given that students had to return to their homework after the end of
the Quidditch game. They chose a round table near the window and Alfred grabbed
the chair between Madeleine and Arthur. He pouted when he discovered that
coffee wasn't even on the menu, but perked up when Arthur grabbed his hand
under the table.
As they waited for their tea to arrive, Alfred and his mother did most of the
talking, with occasional questions directed to Madeleine and Arthur. Arthur
found himself relaxing once he finally had a cup of tea in front of him. He hid
a smile as he watched Alfred and the American's parents all add significant
amounts of sugar to their tea.
"We like our sweet tea," Alfred explained with a grin.
"I can see that," Arthur dryly replied.
Madeleine shook her head and passed the milk to Arthur. He appreciated that at
least one person at the table knew how to drink a proper cup of tea.
===============================================================================
Alfred zoned out when his parents started asking Arthur and Madeleine about
their classes. If he was interested in Ancient Runes, he would have taken the
class himself. He gazed out the window and watched the people walking around
Hogsmeade. There were a few children who were too young to have started at
Hogwarts and he recognized some of the recruiters strolling to the inn. Near
the end of the street, he spotted a middle-aged couple that looked vaguely
familiar, but it wasn't until he saw the man's eyebrows that he realized that
they were Arthur's aunt and uncle. He nudged Arthur and pointed them out.
Arthur frowned. "Why are they here?" he muttered under his breath.
The rest of the table peered out the window. "Is that your aunt and uncle?"
Mrs. Jones asked as she set down her tea cup. Alfred could see a hard glint in
her eyes. He had told her a bit about Arthur's background and she hadn't been
pleased by what she heard. He could see that she was debating having a 'talk'
with Arthur's relatives.
"Do you think they're here because of Peter?" Madeleine asked. She bit her lip
when everyone stared at her, but explained to Alfred's parents, "Their son
Peter hexed a broom in an earlier game. Actually, that's the reason the
Slytherins won. I bet he's not very popular in Gryffindor right now."
"It's more than that," Arthur added. "He also hexed Alfred in the most recent
game as... a sort of apology for the earlier hex," he simplified instead of
going into the details about the love potion accusations. "I'm sorry about my
cousin."
"Don't worry, you don't need to be sorry," Alfred's mother said as she pushed
back her chair and excused herself from the table. Alfred's father followed
close behind. From their position by the window, the three could see Alfred's
parents cross the street and flag down the Kirklands. Alfred watched as the
Kirklands' expressions shifted from surprise to defensive anger, but he
couldn't hear what any of them were saying. Even from their distance, he could
feel his parents' anger as a palpable force.
"If your parents are hoping for an apology on your behalf, I think they're out
of luck," Arthur said. He was keeping his face carefully blank, but he
tightened his grip on Alfred's hand under the table. Alfred gave his hand a
reassuring squeeze.
By that point, the argument in the street had drawn a small crowd of
spectators. It wasn't often an angry American chewed out a well-respected
wizarding couple in the middle of the street. Alfred's mother—who apparently
shared Alfred's loud voice when she wanted—finally reached a volume they could
hear even inside the tea shop. "You smothered one child, turning him into a
spoiled brat who hurts others when he doesn't get what he wants, and deprived
the other of the affection and love he deserved. How dare you play favorites
when you should have loved them both!" she shouted, giving them a final glare
before spinning around.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred could see Arthur rub his eyes. He felt a
surge of pride in his mother. Deciding that he should do his part, Alfred
pulled out his wand and muttered "Opprimendi Desperatio" under his breath. The
Kirklands began crying. It was magically-induced sorrow, but it was still
gratifying to see.
His parents walked back into the shop and took their seats. "Oh good, my tea
didn't get cold," was all his mother said, before directing the conversation
back to Runespoors and Fwoopers.
Arthur didn't say much after that, but when he thanked Alfred's parents, Alfred
had the sense that tea wasn't the only thing he was thanking them for. Alfred
finished his own tea and smiled when he saw two familiar images in the dregs, a
lion and a snake. Placing his cup side-by-side with Arthur's, he could see that
they were mirror images. Even though he wasn't very good at divinations, he
could guess what that particular fortune meant.
===============================================================================
After tea, Arthur found a message waiting for him on his mobile. It was the
American recruiter with the response she had promised:
Current seeker leaving, do you still want the spot?
Arthur texted back an immediate acceptance. He wasn't surprised when his phone
buzzed a few moments later.
Great! BTW, any prob with a slytherin on the team?
Arthur frowned at his phone, unsure what 'BTW' meant and trying to guess which
Slytherin they would want. Then the answer hit him. Alfred said an American
team offered him a try-out as a beater and he referred to the recruiter as a
'she.' Arthur thought back to the American teams and realized that only one of
the American teams had sent a female recruiter—the Fitchburg Finches—and it was
the same team that had just offered him a spot. He texted a quick response,
reassuring the recruiter that he would have no problems whatsoever with a
Slytherin on the team. He wondered if Alfred was trying out on the Quidditch
field at that very moment and hurried down to check.
Still a little breathless from running down to the Quidditch field, Arthur
discovered that he had guessed right. He found an inconspicuous spot where he
could watch Alfred. The American recruiter had Alfred using the practice gear
to test how good he was at hitting a target with a bludger. Alfred had good
hand-eye coordination. Even better, he hit with tremendous force, knocking over
many of the practice targets. Combined with his skillful flying, Arthur could
see that Alfred would be an excellent beater. He just hoped that the recruiter
could see it too.
After several more exercises, she clapped him on the shoulder. He nodded and
gave her a smile, although it looked like the smile of someone who was settling
for second best. Arthur would see what he could do about brightening that
smile. He ducked into the locker room and waited. As soon as Alfred entered the
room, he grabbed the American by his shirt and kissed him fiercely, enjoying
the faint musk of Alfred's sweat and running his fingers through the other
boy's damp, windblown hair.
Alfred responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist. They knocked
against a bench and laughed, even as Alfred gave Arthur a somewhat confused
smile. "What's this about?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."
"You're looking at the Finches' newest seeker," Arthur replied.
Alfred gaped, his eyes widening as he made the connection. Suddenly Alfred's
face split into a grin—the broadest, happiest grin Arthur had ever seen on the
young man's face. The American lifted Arthur in a hug and exuberantly spun him
in a circle, before returning him to the ground. "You and me on the same team,
huh?" he said with a soft laugh. "That'll be something new."
Arthur grinned. "I know... I'm looking forward to it."
"So now that we're playing for the same team, are you ready to go public?"
Alfred whispered in his ear.
"You know, I think I am," Arthur replied. He saw Alfred's thrilled expression
and quickly tamped down his expectations. "Not that I want to post the banns or
anything, but there's certainly no need to keep it hidden."
"Why would we post banners?" Alfred asked in confusion. Then he gasped
excitedly. "Unless we created our own house! It could be the Quidditch House
and it would be awesome. We'd have an eagle as a mascot and our house colors
could be red and blue. And it wouldn't have stairs, you'd go everywhere by
broomstick!"
Arthur chuckled dryly. "I can see you've given this a lot of thought." He
walked with Alfred to the Prefect's bathroom as the American continued to
babble excitedly about his plans for a new house. Arthur could feel the stares
on the back of his neck, and he could hear the hushed whispers. So he grabbed
the American's hand and enjoyed the sudden silence that filled the hallway.
Eventually he'd have to calm his housemates. And his teammates. And his cousin.
But that would happen later—after a wonderful bubble bath with his boyfriend.
Arthur was sure he could manage.
===============================================================================
Dear Aunt and Uncle,
I don't normally read the Daily Prophet but one of my friends showed me the
article about your recent hearing in the Wizengamot. I simply cannot imagine
how they learned that you were keeping an endangered Golden Snidget as a pet. I
do hope that they've found a good home for Elfrida somewhere.
You may wonder what other unpleasant surprises await you, but you can stop
worrying. I've decided that you simply aren't worth my time.
Oddly enough, I've finally forgiven Peter for being a brat and I've done what I
can to make sure that he doesn't go down in Gryffindor House history as the boy
who lost us the Quidditch Trophy. For your part, I hope that you take his
punishment as a wake up call and finally teach my cousin that he'll have to
work to get what he wants.
Do try not to mess it up.
Goodbye,
Arthur
===============================================================================
The last day of NEWTs testing came as an immense relief. Arthur was glad that
his final test was on the Care of Magical Creatures because he found himself
with little time left for revision after his monstrous History of Magic exam.
Arthur liked history and even he thought that magic had far too much of it.
After his test, Arthur walked over to the magical creatures' stables to say
goodbye to some of his earliest friends at Hogwarts. Flying Mint Bunny slowly
circled his head as he went from stall to stall, conversing softly with the
Hippogriffs, Nifflers, and Kneazles. Arthur smiled fondly as the unicorn foal
nuzzled his hand.
"I'll miss you too," he said.
"Hey, Artie! There you are," Alfred called from the doorway. "Who are you
talking to?" he asked as he sauntered closer. Before Arthur had a chance to
respond he added more questions: "How did the test go? Are you ready for the
party tonight?"
"Silver, well enough, and not quite," Arthur replied, by now well accustomed to
Alfred's rapid-fire questions. Alfred leaned against the stall door and didn't
even notice as the unicorn lightly huffed his hair. "I'll never understand why
the unicorn loves you as much as she does," Arthur said. "You can't even see
her."
"What can I say? Unicorns love Virginians."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You've been waiting all school year to say that,
haven't you?" he groused, shaking his head, even though his lips still quirked
upward. "The Gryffindors wonder what I see in you." His house was still reeling
after learning that the two rival seekers had started dating. He hoped that it
wouldn't get in the way of having fun at the end-of-the-year party.
Alfred grinned. "Ah, don't worry, once you start macking on me after a few
drinks, I think they'll figure it out."
"I'm not going to get that drunk," Arthur protested, though the retort sounded
feeble even to his ears. After a grueling week of tests, he deserved some
alcohol and even he had to admit that the night would probably end in a drunken
blur. At least if his housemates reacted poorly to seeing him draped on the arm
of a Slytherin, he'd be too far gone to care.
The Seventh Years had a tradition of throwing a party after finishing their
NEWTs. The house that won the House Cup hosted the party in its common room
(with a few well-placed silencing charms ensuring that the professors wouldn't
interrupt). Most professors had been students themselves once, so they turned a
blind eye to a night of carousing and general merriment. The sofas and chairs
in the Hufflepuff Common room had been pushed to the side to make room for the
40-some students who were dancing, drinking, and chattering away. Tables on the
side held a collection of drinks. A small group of graduating students served
as the band, playing surprisingly decent wizard rock.
Arthur felt the stares as soon as he arrived with Alfred. Seventh years were
allowed to bring a date, so everyone would be able to guess why sixth-year
Alfred was attending with him. They managed to dance for a while before one of
Arthur's teammates accosted them. "Fucking hell, Arthur. Are you going to date
all of the Slytherin boys?" he demanded, voice slightly slurred from alcohol.
"Just the blond ones," Arthur replied calmly.
"They stole our Quidditch trophy," the Gryffindor growled.
"Strange, I seem to remember Peter having something to do with that."
Madeleine hurried over to play peacemaker. "No fighting. This is Hufflepuff,
remember?"
The Gryffindor squinted at her. "You look familiar," he said.
She smiled. "Well, I hexed you once in the magical creatures stables and I
punched you in the face after a Quidditch game. Perhaps third time's the
charm?"
He shook his head. "Uh, never mind," he said, before backing away slowly and
then running out the door. For some reason, Arthur and Alfred didn't have any
other problems for the rest of the night.
Alfred laughed. "Honey badgers are awesome." He sighed when Arthur and
Madeleine gave him confused looks. "Okay, after we do our Star Wars marathon
there are about a thousand hours of internet videos I need to show you," he
explained.
"Did someone say 'awesome'? Here I am!" Gilbert shouted. He held a beer in each
hand, taking turns as he drank them both. Antonio had chosen sangria while
Francis had a glass of wine. Alfred spent some time wondering how Francis had
managed to snag wine at a party filled with 17 and 18 year-olds, then decided
that if anyone had a spell to turn water into wine, it was Francis.
Francis proposed a drinking game—Veritas or Imperius—and a small group of them
gathered together in a corner of the room, sitting in a circle on the floor.
Even though Arthur protested, Alfred dragged him into the game. Still
grumbling, Arthur sat between Alfred and Kiku. At the other end of the circle
Francis lounged between Madeleine and the other two members of the Slytherin
trio.
"I'll go first!" Gilbert shouted. He turned around so his back was facing the
circle. "V or I, I or V, charm or curse, you tell me!" he chanted. He spent a
moment in thought and then said "Imperius!"
The rest of the circle snickered as he turned around. The game worked by having
everyone in the circle pick either Veritas (by making a V with two fingers) or
Imperius (an I with one finger). Those who picked the same one as the caller
had to do an order or share a truth of the caller's choice. To keep things
reasonable, the caller had to share the same secret and perform the same dare.
Because they had all guessed that Gilbert would choose Imperius, everyone had
picked Veritas instead.
"Scheiße!" Gilbert muttered under his breath. "Do I still do it if no one else
does?"
"Si," Antonio replied, smiling mischievously.
"Fine. I order myself to pat myself on the back because I'm awesome!" He
reached back and patted himself. "Clearly you guys aren't awesome like I am."
Francis was the next to turn around. He said the little chant and picked
Imperius. When he turned around, he grinned. Half of the circle had two fingers
raised, but the remaining three people had only chosen one finger—Alfred,
Arthur, and Madeleine. Francis rubbed his hands together. "What to do, what to
do?" he asked himself gleefully.
"I thought if you were guessing Imperius, that Francis wouldn't choose it,"
Arthur whispered to Alfred, a displeased scowl on his face.
"Nah, I just figured that he'd pick something fun," Alfred replied.
"Fun, indeed!" Francis promised. He summoned a bottle of Grand Marnier Cordon
Rouge and enough shot glasses for the entire group. He poured four shots and
sent them flying across the wooden floor to their destination. "I order you to
drink a shot for every time you've caught a snitch in a Gryffindor/Slytherin
game this year."
Arthur glared at the three shots lined up in front of him. "The point of doing
your own Imperius is to actually do your own Imperius, you French tosser."
Despite his complaints, he lifted up a shot and drank it.
Alfred laughed and downed his own shot. The alcohol tasted nice, like oranges
and sugar. "Can I get another, Francis? I think that catching Arthur in one of
the games should count for something."
"But of course," Francis replied, quickly pouring Alfred another shot. When the
rest of the group wanted to try, he poured them all shots as well. Kiku gave
the glass a suspicious glance before drinking it. By the time Francis finished
pouring, Arthur had downed his three shots. He wiped a bit of alcohol from his
chin and gave Alfred a messy kiss. Alfred grinned, enjoying how Arthur became
more affectionate while tipsy.
"My turn!" Madeleine said eagerly, turning her back on the group. She picked
Veritas, catching Kiku, Gilbert, and Francis. She cast the Veritas charm on the
group to make sure they told the truth. "Tell me a secret that no one else in
the circle knows."
Kiku stared off into space as he contemplated the wide variety of secrets he
could share. He rubbed his chin and frowned. The Slytherin trio refilled their
drinks while they waited and eventually Gilbert suggested that he could go next
to give Kiku time to think. He grinned and said, "The Horntails are going to be
so much more awesome with me on their Quidditch team. Kesesese."
"Uh, that's not really what I had in mind, eh."
Gilbert frowned. "You're right! That's not a secret at all. Okay, how's this:
the beater on the team totally digs me."
"You said that yesterday," Antonio replied. "And I thought she threatened to
hit you with a bludger?" he asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically.
"Yeah, but it was a really flirty sort of threatening."
"Alright, I think Gilbert's secret is that he's in love with his team's beater
and he doesn't know how to express his feelings," Madeleine interjected.
"Hey! That's not it!"
Ignoring Gilbert's protests, Francis went next. "The Bonnefoys are the less
evil, more French branch of the Malfoy family," he said. "But we try not to
talk about them much."
"I always thought that French and evil were synonyms," Arthur snarked. Alfred
had to hide a smile—he also liked how Arthur picked fights while tipsy.
"That's because you don't know the French." He lifted up his glass of wine and
gave a toast, "As I always say, a bonne fois means a good time."
Madeleine laughed. Still blushing, she shared her secret: "The Headmaster loves
pancakes. So I bribed him with chocolate pancakes and that's how we won the
House Cup," she said proudly. "Two hundred points for delicious pancakes!"
"To pancakes!" Gilbert said, clinking his beer bottles together for his own
toast. "So, Kiku, buddy, what's your secret?"
The Ravenclaw boy lifted up a bottle of sake and offered it to the circle.
"You brought sake!" Alfred said excitedly, offering his glass. "That's a great
secret."
===============================================================================
Even Alfred felt a bit tipsy when they decided to call it a night. The
Slytherin trio stumbled back to their dorm, leaning on each other and singing
out of tune. It was probably a naughty song, but it was a little hard to tell
because they were singing in three different languages, none of which were
English. Alfred waved goodbye to Kiku and then decided that he had definitely
had too much to drink when he thought he saw a flash of a red fluffy tail peek
out from under Kiku's robes.
Arthur wasn't much help in the matter, but Alfred still managed to drape the
other boy across his back, then lifted his legs so he could carry him piggyback
style.
"Maybe you should stick to drinking tea," Alfred teased as he made his way,
slowly, down the corridor. He focused on walking in a straight line and managed
to keep the swaying to a minimum. Thoughts of tea slowly filtered through his
brain and he remembered something he had meant to tell Arthur earlier in the
night, before the excessive drinking. "I figured out the symbols in your cup,"
he said proudly. "Mine too, actually. I'm pretty sure they're a snake and a
lion."
Arthur yawned and his breath warmed Alfred's neck. "Lion's a good symbol,"
Arthur murmured sleepily. "Means influen- influench... helpful friends."
"And the snake's a baaad symbol, I bet," Alfred said as he crossed the dark
common room and climbed the steps to his room. He finally pushed the dorm open
with one foot. When Arthur didn't reply, he wondered if his boyfriend had
nodded off. "Still with me, Artie?" he asked, feeling the boy's arms loosen
around his neck.
"Maybe... snake's a hard symbol to read. It's an enemy or wisdom," Arthur
replied, acting a bit more awake as he managed to stumble off Alfred's back. He
plopped onto the only bed that wasn't covered in suitcases and dirty clothes.
Alfred joined him a second later after tossing his outer robe onto the floor.
"There's a wonderful invention called hangers, you know," Arthur said, sounding
remarkably sober.
"Hey, did you act drunk just so I would carry you back to my dorm?" Alfred
accused, even as he curled up against Arthur. The beds were too small for two
people, but they made it work.
Arthur smirked without a hint of shame. "Maybe," he admitted. "I was a bit
drunk, but that nap against your shoulder put me right."
"Darling, you're such a sneak, such a lazy sneak," Alfred said, letting his
Southern accent thicken to the point where sneak sounded like snake. Then he
grinned. "But I'd be lion if I said I didn't love it." Arthur gave him a
distinctly unimpressed look. Alfred laughed. "Hey, hate the pun, not the
punner!" he protested.
"Don't worry, love," Arthur said. "I've always taken a... love the punner
approach." He caressed Alfred's face with his hand and then planted a chaste
kiss on the other boy's lips. "I do love you," he murmured, his voice as gentle
as his kiss.
"I-" Alfred bit back the Star Wars reference that was at the tip of his tongue.
Even he could tell there was a time and place for pop culture references and
this was neither the time nor the place. "Me too," he hurriedly replied.
Arthur arched an eyebrow. "You love you? Well, that's certainly true."
Alfred huffed. "No, I love you."
"Much better."
"Even when you get all ridiculous about grammar." Alfred gave Arthur a teasing
grin. "Since you're not drunk, tell me what the symbols mean together." He
playfully rubbed his feet against Arthur's, using his toes to caress the bottom
of Arthur's foot.
Arthur pressed his foot against the bed. "Stop tickling if you want an answer,"
he replied, though he was grinning, so Alfred knew he couldn't be too annoyed.
"The longer a symbol lasts, the more important it is," he said, closing his
eyes, trying to envision the symbols in his mind. "A lot depends on the
positioning, but I'm guessing that the lion was laying down with the serpent...
which is either a portent of the apocalypse or a symbol of utopia. So I think
it means a happy life together."
Alfred grinned. "You know, I think I could start to like divination."
"Mmm, it's a lovely art," Arthur agreed. He yawned, finding that the alcohol
still coursing through his veins combined with the soft bed and late hour made
it difficult to stay awake. "Of course, there's only one way to find out if I'm
right," he added sleepily.
Patience had never been one of Alfred's strong points. He normally didn't like
horoscopes or divinations because it took forever to figure out what they
meant, but as he drifted off to sleep, he decided that this was one divination
for which he could make an exception.
Needless to say, Arthur's prediction was entirely correct.
Chapter End Notes
     Posting the banns refers to a tradition of announcing a wedding.
     To understand Francis's bilingual pun, you should know that
     "Bonnefoy" is pronounced bonne fwa. Which can be spelled as bonne
     fois, which literally translates to "good time" (though that's not
     the actual translation). Basically, he's saying that if you want a
     good time, call Francis Bonnefoy. And that's why Maddie is the only
     one who gets the joke. Hurray for French-speaking Canadians!
     I feel like the HP books are a little too clean given the age ranges
     at the end, so I've invented a magical game of truth or dare. Don't
     worry, they aren't actually casting the Imperius curse. That would be
     unforgivable ;)
     Finally, the Star Wars reference that Alfred doesn't make is the
     classic "I love you" - "I know" lines.
***** Graduation Day *****
Chapter Summary
     Arthur writes a speech.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Hogwarts provided a week-long break at the end of testing, giving students a
chance to pack their trunks, make summer plans, and say goodbye to all of their
friends. Alfred used his free time to teach Quodpot, an American variant of
Quidditch, to any student who wanted to learn. He wanted to teach Arthur too,
but his Gryffindor boyfriend proved surprisingly difficult to find.
"There you are!" Alfred called when he finally spotted Arthur sitting at one of
the tables half-hidden at the back of the empty library. He should have known
that Arthur would still be studying in the library even after the end of
classes. "Come on, babe, NEWTs are over," he said as he sprawled his arms
across the table, nearly knocking over the ink stand in the process.
Arthur moved the ink to a safer spot on the table and continued staring at the
parchment sheets spread across the table in front of him. "I'm working on my
speech," he explained without looking up.
"Ooh, are you going to talk about me?" Alfred asked. Interest piqued, he leaned
over further, trying to read the scroll upside-down. "You totally should.
Like... say that you really appreciate the school welcoming more international
students after the Second Wizarding War because you got an awesome American
boyfriend."
Arthur pulled the parchment away, hiding the words from Alfred's view. "You'll
find out when everyone else does," he calmly replied. "Now, stop distracting
me."
"So... I'm a distraction, huh?" Alfred preened.
Arthur ignored the smug look on his boyfriend's face, refusing to take the
bait. "Were you looking for me for a reason?" he asked, slightly tilting his
head to the side.
"Yeah! We've got a pick-up game of Quodpot going on outside. Come join!"
"Perhaps later," Arthur demurred. He glanced up and could tell that Alfred was
ready to start pleading, no doubt using his expressive eyes to good effect.
Fortunately, he knew what to offer Alfred in exchange for a few more hours of
silence. Arthur arched an eyebrow and asked casually, "Alfred, do you want a
complimentary reference in my speech or should I do a 3-hour long rant about
annoying Americans?" His time with Madeleine had been oddly instructive.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop distracting you," Alfred said, holding his hands up in
surrender. "Just remember my suggestion!" he added, giving Arthur a kiss before
he left. He wasn't admitting defeat, he was just postponing the battle. He
would just make sure that Arthur tried Quodpot once they arrived in the States.
When Alfred left and the library was quite once more, Alfred turned back to his
parchment with a smile on his face.
 
===============================================================================
 
Arthur arrived in time to see the final play of the Quodpot game. The opposing
teams had been reduced to Francis and Kiku. Because Quodpot was basically
Quidditch mixed with hot potato, the two of them kept trying to score while
avoiding being the last one holding the quaffle when it exploded. Kiku tossed
the quaffle directly to Francis, and it promptly exploded, ending the game in
Kiku's favor.
Antonio shook his head from his position on the sidelines. "I think he's
cheating."
"That's not fair!" Gilbert protested. "We're supposed to be the cheaters."
"I doubt it's cheating," Alfred replied as he walked closer. "Kiku's just...
sly that way."
Francis brushed off some dust and joined them on the sidelines. "Alfred! Where
is ton lapin?" he asked.
"Still writing his speech."
"Did you tell him about my speech ideas?" Gilbert asked. "He should talk about
how alcohol can solve all problems," he added, referring to the night that
Arthur got drunk and ended up spending the night in Alfred's room.
"Ooh, even better, he should give the speech while drunk," Antonio said. He and
Gilbert high-fived, admiring the excellence of their plan. Both conveniently
ignored that a drunken speech from Arthur would likely entail an hour-long rant
about grammar.
Francis swung his arm around Alfred's shoulders and grinned. "Ah, d'Artagnan, I
feel like we should offer you some parting words of advice." He rubbed his
beard and turned to the other two members of the trio and asked, "Any advice?"
"Don't mix reds and whites in the laundry," Antonio suggested. 
Gilbert nodded. "It'll all end up pink."
"No worries, these colors don't run," Alfred replied with a grin. The trio
slapped him on the back and left to prepare their 'totally awesome' end-of-
school prank. Alfred hoped that it would involve more fireworks.
 
===============================================================================
 
Graduation from Hogwarts was a ceremonial affair. The four house banners hung
at the front of the Great Hall, but the four long tables used at mealtime had
been replaced by rows and rows of seats, now filled with proud parents, bored
siblings, and the occasional boyfriend or girlfriend. Although Hogwarts
students spent seven years in their sorted house, someone had decided long ago
that on their first and last days it was fitting for the students to wear plain
robes and sit in alphabetical order instead of by house.
The teachers sat in a row along the raised platform, chatting amongst
themselves. Some beamed with pride at their favorite students—a few others
looked particularly relieved that the trio of troublemakers would soon be
leaving Hogwarts forever.
Alfred and Madeleine hurried in just before the ceremony was ready to start and
grabbed seats in the back row. For once, Alfred wasn't the one responsible for
the tardiness. They had arrived early, but the groundkeeper wouldn't let
Madeleine in with her pet bear. Alfred didn't sit down immediately, instead he
spotted a glimpse of Arthur's untidy hair and tried to catch his attention
before Madeleine pulled him down into his seat.
"Don't make a scene," she whispered.
The American grinned. "I'm not the one who wanted to bring a bear."
She sighed. "I don't understand why the professors wouldn't let Kumarie come.
She's much better behaved then you. Prettier too."
Ignoring Madeleine's dig, Alfred looked through the crowd and was glad that he
didn't see Arthur's aunt or uncle in attendance. Arthur said that he was much
happier after cutting ties with his family. And once he moved to America, a
distance of 3000 miles would ensure that they couldn't bother him any more.
Somehow Alfred doubted that the Kirklands would be the sort to invest in
cellphone or internet technology, leaving them with few ways to send messages
across the Atlantic Ocean. 
Madeleine nudged Alfred in the side and pointed out an elegantly dressed couple
with silky blond hair, identifying them as the Bonnefoys. Alfred hoped that
Francis's parents wouldn't be too upset with the Slytherin trio when they
pulled a prank on their final day at Hogwarts. Given their past history of
pranks, it really was to be expected.
Alfred started to fidget almost as soon as the deputy headmaster began the
graduation ceremony with a short introduction. Next the headmaster rambled on
for a few minutes, relating a story of his first year at Hogwarts. Alfred grew
increasingly bored—he'd never been good at sitting quietly for formal
events—but immediately sat up straight when Arthur walked to the front of the
room. The Gryffindor Prefect had been selected by his fellow students to have
the honor of delivering the farewell address.
Arthur stood at the center platform, where his voice would be magically
amplified to fill the entire room, looking calm and unruffled. Given some of
the nasty comments other students had made about his choice in boyfriend,
Alfred had to admire Arthur's unflappable spirit. It was the same focus that
made him an amazing Quidditch seeker.
Arthur gave the room a small, beautiful smile—a look that brightened his face
and made his male and female admirers weak in the knees. The room hushed.
Arthur scanned the crowd and Alfred wondered if his boyfriend was trying to
find him. He resisted the urge to wave. Arthur cleared his throat and began his
speech by addressing the row of graduating seventh years.
"Like most of you, I remember standing here seven years ago, wondering what the
future would hold. And now, despite a number of Divination classes, I must
admit that I'm still unsure about the particulars. But I feel confident in
predicting that we will rise to meet the challenges ahead, no matter what they
may be, thanks to the friends we've made and the skills we've learned at
Hogwarts. I know that I, for one, will always remember to wear earmuffs when
dealing with mandrakes."
The students in the audience chuckled, appreciating Arthur's self-deprecating
humor. Although he normally did very well in herbology, Arthur had a rather
poor reaction to replanting young mandrakes. Francis had gleefully shared the
story with Alfred, who wished he could have been around to catch Arthur when he
fainted.
"Of course, it's not just the skills we've learned here that are important,"
Arthur said crisply. "Even more important is what we've learned about
ourselves. I know I will always have a soft spot for my own house," he smiled
fondly at his Gryffindor friends, "but I think we should remember that the
purpose of the house system is to identify and refine our greatest strengths.
Bravery, knowledge, loyalty, and ambition... these are all important traits
that work best in combination."
For each adjective, Arthur sought the gaze of a member of that house. When he
reached ambition, he looked directly at Alfred. The American grinned,
recognizing it as Arthur's subtle reference to them joining the same Quidditch
team. He wondered if the other students realized that Arthur was giving a
shout-out to his boyfriend.
Arthur turned back to the seventh years and continued his speech. "When I was
first sorted, I foolishly believed that I was brave simply because a magical
talking hat had seen the potential for bravery within me. I imagined that
bravery was always a grand, heroic endeavor like fighting a dark wizard with a
sword. I see now that it can be smaller and quieter, actions that we do every
day: like refusing to let other people define us, never giving up on our
dreams... or even falling in love."
"None of us can be reduced to just one trait, no matter how important. Because
it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our skills and
abilities. And even our ability to use magic, as wonderful as it is, is just a
skill, not something that makes us better or worse than anyone else."
"I'd like to take a moment to thank all of the nonmagical parents who have made
the trip to join us today. I know this must seem a rather strange place—it
certainly seemed that way to me when I first arrived—and it must have been
frightening to let your children go to school in a world you never imagined
existed. Thank you for your bravery in entrusting this school with your
children, and also for trusting your children to learn new skills and grow even
though you don't entirely understand this world."
Alfred caught the wistful look on Arthur's face and knew that Arthur wished his
own parents could have attended the graduation. He was sure that Arthur's
parents would have been proud to see their son grow up into such a kind young
man.
"If we had a spell for today, I think it would be vale dicere, which means to
say farewell. Farewell to Hogwarts and to our friends, though hopefully we'll
have a chance to see both again soon. And in the spirit of the highlands, I
offer this final valediction: May you be lionhearted when it matters most,
steadfast to those who deserve your allegiance, always determined in seeking
your dreams, and wise enough to recognize your deepest dreams, the truly
deserving, and what really matters."
Alfred and the rest of the audience clapped loudly. A few purebloods in the
audience looked like they had sucked on a lemon, but the enthusiastic clapping
from the muggle parents more than made up for their lack of enthusiasm.
After the speech, the seventh years walked up in alphabetical order to receive
their diplomas. Thanks to a quirk of their last names—Beilschmidt, Bonnefoy,
Carriedo—the Slytherin trio were the first to accept their diploma scrolls from
the Headmaster.
Antonio, the last of the trio, accepted his scroll with a grin. "Headmaster has
given Antonio a diploma. Antonio is free!" he shouted.
At that signal, the trio summoned their brooms, and soared to the top of the
room. As they flew above the crowd, they tossed off their robes and threw
firecrackers into the air, including a complicated once that took the shape of
a dragon and chased a widely hated Transmutations professor out of the Great
Hall. The flames singed his beard, drawing chuckles from the waiting students.
Alfred grinned. It was just like the Slytherin trio to make a grand show out of
their exit. He'd heard them planning it earlier, including a flying getaway car
to take them back to London. He hoped they successfully eluded capture. Future
Hogwarts students would whisper stories about the Bad Friends Trio, the same
way they passed down stories about the Marauders.
Once the fireworks stopped exploding, the professors finally restored calm, and
the diploma line resumed. Alfred didn't recognize the next few students, but he
smiled when Kiku walked up to accept his diploma and a medallion as a reward
for receiving the highest overall scores on his NEWTs. Kiku tilted his head
graciously, allowing the Headmaster to place the ribbon around his neck. The
other Ravenclaw students clapped politely, although a few looked jealous that
they weren't the ones receiving the honor of the highest scores.
Arthur crossed the platform and smiled as the Headmaster complimented him on
his speech. "I'm always pleased to see bonds grow between the houses," the
Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well, someone has to set a good example for the younger students," Arthur
replied, maintaining a straight face. He had to admit to himself that making
out with Alfred in the Room of Requirement, the library, the Quidditch changing
rooms, the Potions dungeon, the North Tower room, and every other secluded spot
they could find was probably not quite the good example the Headmaster was
looking for. But it sure was fun.
After the remaining two dozen students accepted their diplomas, the students
transformed their caps into butterflies and watched them fly away, cheering
loudly all the while. Amidst the celebratory jubilee, Arthur felt a pang of
bittersweet nostalgia. He had lived at Hogwarts for almost half of his 18
years. It had been an antidote to his uncaring foster family, a shelter from
his aunt and uncle, and the only place that had ever felt like home after his
parents died. He would surely miss it.
Alfred and Madeleine pressed through the crowd of parents and students to find
Arthur. His short height made it difficult, but Alfred soon spotted a familiar
mop of messy blond hair and pushed his way closer. He slipped an arm around his
boyfriend's waist and gave him a wide smile.
"Your speech was beautiful," Madeleine said softly.
"I liked the part that had me in it!" Alfred added.
Arthur rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and then turned to thank Madeleine. "I
take it your boyfriend won't be joining us on the Hogwarts Express?" he asked,
sounding not-at-all upset by the loss of Francis.
"I think they have other plans," she replied with a slight quirk of her lips.
Knowing what he knew about the Slytherin trio, Arthur decided that he didn't
want to know.
 
===============================================================================
 
Boarding the Hogwarts Express involved a lot of luggage, milling students, and
flying owls. Alfred wasn't paying much attention to the other students as he
walked through the corridor, peering into windows to find Arthur's compartment;
he didn't notice the group of Gryffindors taunting Peter until he practically
ran into them.
"You cost us the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup you little brat. You don't
deserve to be in Gryffindor."
"I bet he was working for them."
"Well, I don't care what Arthur says, I think we should toss him off the
train."
They fell silent at Alfred's approach and even the normally dense American
noticed the tense atmosphere. Three Gryffindors surrounded the smaller boy.
Alfred saw the tears welling in Peter's eyes and decided he didn't like the
taunting one bit, mostly because with his large eyebrows and messy hair, Peter
looked like a miniature version of Arthur.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Alfred asked, reaching for the
wand in his pocket like a cowboy about to draw his gun. He'd already changed to
his street clothes, so he had the blue jeans part of the cowboy ensemble going
for him.
They glared back, hands hovering over their wands.
"Uh... could you not have a wizard's duel outside our compartment?" a shivering
second-year Hufflepuff asked, opening his compartment door just enough to peer
outside. Seeing the danger, he pulled Peter inside the compartment before
slamming the door shut.
"Well, if you're chivalrous, I suppose we should move this duel to the
platform," Alfred replied. He knew that Gryffindors prided themselves on
chivalry, so he exploited their weakness to get them on the platform.
Just as he pretended to step off the train, Alfred coughed into his hand, using
the cough to cover up his incantation of the Confundus Charm on all three. They
were still milling around in confusion when the train pulled away. Alfred
grinned to himself. Sometimes it was good to be a sneak.
 
===============================================================================
 
Arthur enjoyed the scenery fly past as the train chugged through gently rolling
hills. Lush grass and trees covered the countryside with a deep and healthy
green, a color broken only by the occasional stream or field of summer flowers.
Alfred was silent for once—he'd curled up on the seat and was dozing with his
head in Arthur's lap. Kiku and Madeleine had taken the other seats in the train
compartment, ensuring that Arthur would have as much quiet as he wanted.
It felt strange to think that he was finished with taking exams. He had his
whole life ahead him... and not a single test left. Arthur liked studying, but
he was ready for his real life to begin. Though he still felt a tinge of
apprehension about moving to a new country, he just reminded himself that
playing on a Quidditch team with Alfred would be all the best parts of Hogwarts
with none of the worst.
As if Arthur's thoughts about the worst parts of Hogwarts had summoned them,
the Slytherin trio racing past in their flying car, mooning the entire Hogwarts
Express. Kiku covered his eyes, Madeleine snickered, and Arthur just sighed.
"There are some things I won't miss," he muttered.
"Hmm?" Alfred murmured. He blinked his eyes and he yawned in a manner that
Arthur found terribly cute, not that he would ever admit it out loud.
"It will certainly be quieter when you're all gone," Madeleine replied with a
gentle grin. "I suppose that will be helpful so I can study for my NEWTs."
Alfred sat up and stretched. "I'll send howlers if it gets too quiet," he
promised.
She gave Alfred an unimpressed look. "Oh goody."
Alfred stuck out his tongue at her and they both laughed. Arthur just shook his
head. Sometimes he didn't understand Americans or Canadians. He turned his head
back to the window, intending to spend the rest of the train ride admiring the
lovely countryside as it rolled past. That plan was quickly derailed by
Alfred's need for chatter. "Whatcha thinking about?" the American asked,
nudging Arthur in the side.
Arthur rested his head on his hand and contemplated his answer. When he first
started writing his speech, he'd briefly considered discussing how the
graduating students had reached a point where they couldn't go back home to
their childhood. They had all been changed by their time at Hogwarts,
especially the muggle-born students, and would find they had outgrown their old
homes. Yet, despite all of the changes it inspired in its students, Hogwarts
itself remained very tradition-bound. Even the Hogwarts Express ran through a
corridor that hadn't been altered in nearly a century. Arthur thought about
commenting on the incongruity, before deciding that sort of speech was far too
philosophical for a bunch of 18-year olds.
On a more personal level, Arthur reflected on the changes in himself and
Alfred. At the beginning of the year, he had worried too much about his peers
and not enough about satisfying his own desires. Part of Alfred's devil-may-
care attitude had rubbed off on him. He in turn had helped ground Alfred,
encouraging a bit more realism and pragmatism amidst the young man's wild
flights of fantasy. It hadn't been a matter of giving up dreams or ambitions
for either of them, just a lesson in finding dreams they could share.
Arthur felt all those thoughts pass through his head in a confused jumble. He
turned to face Alfred and tried to express his contentment with a small smile,
gesturing to the English countryside rolling past the window. "I was wondering
how this compares to Virginia and Massachusetts," he said.
Alfred grinned and eagerly discussed the States with Arthur. They planned to
travel first to Virginia, then to Massachusetts. They would swing by Salem so
Alfred could register for Owl-Post Classes at the Salem Institute for his
NEWTs. And their final destination was Fitchburg. Alfred explained that they
would stay with one of his many cousins for a few days before finding a
permanent place.
"You're going to love it," Alfred promised.
 
===============================================================================
 
The rest of the train ride passed quickly as they talked and laughed. Alfred
nearly ate himself sick with the sweets available on the trolley, but his cast-
iron stomach protected him from lasting harm. Anyone who could eat Arthur's
cooking could manage any flavor of Bertie's Beans. Before he knew it, Arthur
felt the train pull into London. He wished Kiku and Madeleine a fond farewell,
then apparated away with Alfred to their final London destination.
He had one more goodbye to say before he left.
The cemetery was empty as Arthur led the way to his parents' graves. He placed
a lily on the grave marker and silently promised that he would come back to
visit them at least once a year. After a moment of silence, he stepped back and
reached for Alfred's hand. And together they left for new shores.
Chapter End Notes
     Yes, Antonio makes a house-elf joke. (Master has given Dobby a sock.
     Dobby is free!)
***** The World Cup *****
Chapter Summary
     Seven years later...
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
As he climbed up to his seat, Arthur admired the elegant Luxembourgian stadium.
It had been built over three centuries ago, the first time the tiny European
nation had hosted the Quidditch World Cup. The basic stone structure rose out
of the hillside, looking like an extension of the land itself. The stadium was
enchanted to resemble a castle from the outside, with powerful anti-muggle
repellant charms to ensure secrecy. Arthur climbed the rough-hewn stairs
carefully, noting how years of stomping feet had worn down the stone steps in
the middle.
Fortunately, the Englishman didn't have far to go. Family members of the team
players sat in the very first row, giving them the best view of the action. He
spotted Alfred's parents already in their seats and walked over to join them.
They waved as he approached. He could see that they were well prepared with two
thermoses of hot coffee, since it was a bit cloudy and chilly for August. "Is
my boy raring to go?" Alfred's mother asked Arthur as he took his seat.
"Very much so," Arthur replied. Family members generally weren't allowed into
the locker room, but teammates were and Arthur fell into an unusual category.
Even though the World Cup rules prevented him from playing on the American
National Team, he was still technically allowed into the locker rooms because
he played for an American Quidditch team. He had helped Alfred prepare and then
given him a kiss for luck.
"I hope this one doesn't last as long as the game against Uganda," Alfred's
father remarked, sipping from his thermos. Arthur nodded his agreement. The
Uganda/America game had dragged on for 15 interminable hours. Even Alfred,
normally a source of boundless energy, was exhausted by the end.
"Perhaps we'll be lucky and the American seeker will pull a Peru," Alfred's
mother said, referring to Peru's victory over the Nordic Team in the first ten
minutes of their match. The Nords had kept up their stoic expressions, but
Arthur was sure they hated being kicked out of the tournament so quickly. That
was the nature of the game, however; Arthur knew as well as anyone that the
snitch could be a fickle ball.
Arthur stood up and cheered as the two teams took the field. He loved the sight
of Alfred in navy blue and red robes and thought that the color matched the
young man much better than green. He even preferred them to the Finches' silver
and red robes. Because the Fitchburg Finches were the best U.S. team, the
American National Team consisted mostly of their fellow Finch players. Arthur
couldn't play, so their seeker was from the Sweetwater All-Stars. She was an
excellent seeker, even Arthur would admit, although not quite as experienced as
Arthur.
Along with the Americans came their mascots—a small herd of jackalopes. The
horned bunny rabbits raced across the field and into the stadium, drawing cries
of delight from children who had never seen such strange creatures. The
jackalopes had candy tied to their horns and seemed to enjoy running away from
any child who tried to catch them. Arthur smiled to himself. He was glad that
Alfred was on the field, or else who would have been afraid that Alfred would
have joined in the chase.
The Argentineans arrived next with their mascots, a flock of alicantos. The
birds' wings shimmered with beautiful, metallic colors and their eyes gleamed
with light, filling the stadium with a kaleidoscope of lights and colors.
The raucous crowd cheered on the opposing teams and even Arthur found himself
joining the chants and shouting until his voice grew hoarse. He would always be
English at heart, but America had become his second home. Perhaps it was for
the best that the English team had been knocked out early, saving Arthur the
worry of having to watch his two teams compete and leaving him free to root for
Alfred wholeheartedly.
The Brit wished he could have played, but he recognized that it was a good idea
to limit players to their country of origin or else wealthy teams would poach
from other countries. The only exception was the Transylvanian team. Since the
nation itself no longer existed, they enjoyed somewhat looser rules. Despite
not being able to play for either the Americans (because he was not American)
or the English (because he played for an American Quidditch team), Arthur found
himself enjoying the matches. He and Alfred had watched the English National
Team's game against Scotland. Although England lost, Arthur took some comfort
in Luxembourg's later victory over the Scottish team. After three rounds of
matches, Japan had secured the place as runner-up, leaving the U.S. team and
the Argentinean National Team to vie for the cup. It was the first time non-
European teams had claimed the top three spots when a European country hosted,
showing the rise in popularity Quidditch had enjoyed worldwide after the Second
Wizarding War.
Barely an hour into the game, the Argentinean seeker spotted the snitch. Arthur
held his breath, seeing instantly that the American seeker was on the far side
of the field. The Argentinean raced for the snitch, but a bludger hit her in
the side and sent her off course. By the time she got her bearings, the snitch
had disappeared.
Arthur grinned, pleased that Alfred's aim had prevented an early Argentinean
victory. Alfred's skill at spotting the snitch came in handy, allowing the
young man to target the opposing team's seeker to prevent her from catching the
snitch. In one of his most spectacular plays, Alfred had even used the bludger
to hit a snitch out of the way. He had accepted the compliments afterward with
an aw-shucksattitude, explaining that it wasn't any more difficult than
bullseyeing womp rats (a reference that Arthur now understood).
Watching Alfred fly was always a joy, though Arthur spent the entire game
worried that a bludger would hurt the other man. Alfred did take a nasty hit to
his side at one point, but he drank a pain-numbing potion and soldiered on.
Injuries were common during the game, but nothing that the experienced
mediwizards couldn't heal.
When he was able to tear his eyes away from Alfred, Arthur searched the stadium
for the snitch. He couldn't do anything to catch it, but years of Quidditch
playing had engrained the habit too deeply for him to ignore.
Then he saw it. Amongst the flock of shimmering alicantos was a small point of
light that wasn't quite the same shade of gold. Arthur sucked in his breath.
The American seeker was so close. All she had to do was look up and she would
see it. Just when Arthur thought she would never look in the right direction,
the American seeker glanced up and her eyes widened. She darted straight up,
catching the snitch and winning the game.
Arthur jumped to his feet and cheered. And he didn't stop cheering until Alfred
swooped right in front of the stands and kissed him soundly.
After a few hours of boisterous celebration with the rest of the American team,
Arthur and Alfred had left to meet up with friends who had traveled to
Luxembourg for the 429th World Cup. Alfred had kept in touch with Madeleine,
and by extension with Francis and the rest of the Slytherin trio, though 'trio'
was no longer the right name as the group had expanded to become a sextet.
(Though not a sextet in the way Francis would have preferred.)
Gilbert and his girlfriend Elizabeta both played for the Hungarian Horntails
and had earned positions on the Transylvanian National Team, Gil as a chaser
and Liz as a beater. Alfred liked swapping beater tips with Liz. Even better,
sometimes she had other tips, like her suggestion for how to have sex on a
broomstick.
He wasn't sure when Antonio had met Emma, but the two made a very cheerful
pair. Emma bred Kneazles and part-Kneazles to sell as pets. She said it was a
robust trade, particularly when wizards and witches from all around the world
came to attend Kattenstoet in Belgium. They would participate in the mock witch
burnings and laugh at the muggles who had no idea that real witches still
existed. Kneazles were particularly popular at the festival because they
strongly resembled cats.
Madeleine and Francis meanwhile had started a successful bakery near
Beauxbatons. They had set up a tent outside the stadium and were busy during
the matches selling their specialty pastries. Madeleine apologized for not
making it to watch the final game, but Alfred reassured her that sending a care
package of éclairs for the American team was a fantastic way to show her
support. He didn't bother to mention that he ate more than half of the desserts
himself.
Kiku and his wife Mei had arrived in time to see the Japanese team take the
runner-up position and stayed to watch the final match. Alfred wasn't sure how
exactly Arthur kept in touch with Kiku, since it definitely wasn't by owl or by
phone. The one time he had asked, Arthur claimed that Flying Mint Bunny made
the voyage to deliver his messages. Alfred doubted that the flying bunny even
existed, but they had a unicorn living in their garage—Arthur refused to leave
behind any of his magical friends—so he had left it at that.
The restaurants were packed, leading the ten of them to cram into a booth that
was only intended to hold eight. Alfred found that he didn't mind the crowded
conditions, since it meant Arthur was practically sitting in his lap. He rested
his hand on Arthur's thigh and smiled as Arthur entwined their fingers
together.
"Oh man, I wanted to eat pizza but they don't have it," Alfred said with as
sigh, as he paged through the menu with his other hand. They didn't have
hamburgers either, even though Hamburg was fewer than six hours away.
"You should try the Gromperekichelcher," Gil replied. "It's awesome."
"What's that?" Madeleine asked.
"They're like Kartoffelpuffer," he explained unhelpfully.
Elizabeta rolled her eyes and swacked Gil lightly on the shoulder. "They're
potato pancakes," she translated.
"Pancakes?" Madeleine said, licking her lips. "Well, I'm sold."
"You should get waffles," Emma teased. "The Brussels ones are the best." The
two young women resumed their usual waffles vs. pancakes debate, trying to draw
the others into picking sides in a lighthearted battle of the breakfast foods.
Alfred just smiled and replied, "Scones are my favorite."
"I think you must have a half-giant in your ancestry somewhere if you can eat
Arthur's scones and live to tell the tale," Francis snarked. Arthur tossed a
breadstick at the Frenchman while the rest of the table laughed.
They settled down as their food arrived. Food was one of the few things that
could shut Alfred up, leaving him to focus on chewing while the others talked.
He probably wasn't supposed to eat an entire Quetschentaart on his own, but he
did anyway. He let Arthur have a few bites though, because he was a good
boyfriend.
After Arthur finished his cup of tea, Alfred pulled it closer to read the
dregs. He hummed to himself as he tried to make sense of the symbols. It looked
like a lot of leftover tea leaves in the bottom of a cup. He was pretty sure
that fortune meant 'you just drank a cup of tea.' And Arthur always said he
lacked imagination. Then Alfred spotted a familiar figure walking toward them
out of the corner of his eye. It was a good thing he had already set the tea
cup on the table or he might have dropped it.
"Arthur, I think you're going to run into a relative in the very near future,"
he said.
"That's an... oddly specific divination," Arthur replied, glancing down at the
tea cup. "Are you sure you're reading the symbols right?"
"I wasn't looking at the symbols. I was looking at your cousin," Alfred
replied, pointing out the young man who had crossed the room and nearly reached
their table. Peter Kirkland was taller, though he still had the same sandy-
blond hair and thick eyebrows that marked him as a member of the Kirkland
family.
Arthur turned to face his cousin and gaped. "Peter?" he slowly asked. He
slipped out of the booth so he could talk to his cousin face to face. "My
goodness, you've certainly grown."
Peter grinned. "And you're still as short as ever."
"Other than being a brat, what have you been up to?" Arthur asked. He had lost
contact with his aunt and uncle after moving to America, not that he much
cared. As far as he was concerned, the summers he had spent with them was a
time best forgotten. He much preferred to think of Hogwarts as his true
childhood home.
"I'm working with a couple of dragonologists studying the Swedish Short-Snout,"
Peter explained eagerly. "We came down to watch the Cup. They left after the
Nords lost, but I stayed to see the final game. It's too bad about the English
team."
"I know! They really need a better keeper, and their seeker couldn't find his
own ass with both hands and a map," Arthur replied. Some people said that
Quidditch was England's national sport. But actually, complaining about
Quidditch was the real national sport.
Peter laughed. "Well, if you wanted them to have a better seeker, you could
always come back, you know," he suggested.
Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "No, that's not going to happen," he said.
After living through the tension of being rivals, he had made a promise to
himself that he would never again play on a team opposing Alfred. Perhaps they
would move back to England after retiring from Quidditch, but until then he
planned to stay with the Finches.
The teenager suddenly glanced down at his feet. "I came looking for you 'cause
I saw you at the final match," he explained. "I'm sorry about all the trouble I
caused you my first year," he mumbled.
Arthur blinked in surprise but quickly accepted the apology. "It's alright, I
understand," he said, gently patting Peter's shoulder. "I did a few things I
shouldn't have done my first year too."
"Really?" Peter looked up. "Like what?"
"Well... I thought it was cruel to keep magical creatures in stables, so I set
them all free. The groundskeeper spent half the year tracking down all the
Nifflers and Bowtruckles. They never did find the Demiguise or Kitsune," Arthur
said, which was only a slight lie.
Peter grinned. "I bet your housemates were happy to skip Care of Magical
Creatures. Mine spent a few years annoyed at me for losing the Quidditch Cup.
But we won it back in my fourth year."
"Good. I wouldn't want those Slytherins to cheat-win all the time."
"I can hear you, you know," Alfred called from the table.
"Arthur spent so much time in Slytherin dorm by the end we practically made him
an honorary member," Francis added.
"I'm sure the thought of a mudblood in his house would have sent Salazar
Slytherin spinning in his grave," Arthur shot back.
"Guys, guys, stop fighting, we can all be Hufflepuffs," Madeleine said. "The
best house," she quickly added, starting up a whole new house war among the
table members who had added Hogwarts. Emma and Elizabeth watched in amusement,
both pleased that they had gone to wizarding schools that didn't use a house
system.
"You know, I bet Salazar and Godric totally had the hots for each other,"
Gilbert said.
Antonio nodded. "It would explain a lot about their houses."
"Well, what about Rowena and Helga?" Elizabeta suggested with a grin, sending
the table off into a discussion of the founders' love lives and how it might
explain why Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students got along so well. Kiku nodded
his strong approval. Arthur smiled to himself, amused at how much his best
friend still liked to play matchmaker, even with historical figures. He found
it hard to be annoyed by Kiku's matchmaking tendencies, given that he had
benefited from them personally.
He turned back to face Peter. "We should keep in touch," Arthur said, and he
found that actually meant it. It wasn't like Arthur had many family members to
choose from, and the teenager wasn't half as much of a brat as he used to be.
Moving away from his parents had undoubtedly played a role. They exchanged
numbers and promised to stay in contact.
"Well, I need to get back before Tino starts worrying," Peter added. "I swear,
some days he acts like I'm 9 instead of 19."
"Take care. It was good to see you," Arthur replied, impulsively grabbing his
cousin in a quick hug. Living with Americans and their constant physical
affection had started to rub off on him, especially since Alfred's family had
always been so warm and welcoming. It was hard to miss what he'd never had, and
Arthur realized that he would never have a normal family, but at least what he
had was his.
===============================================================================
Arthur and Alfred took the scenic path back to the American team's tents,
holding hands as they enjoyed the cool evening night. Amid the comfortable
silence, Alfred broached the question of whether this would be their last year
with the Finches. Quidditch was a fun sport, but he wanted to start a business
making adult-themed potions.
"I've been thinking a bit about a writing career," Arthur admitted, agreeing
that it might be time to consider something new. "Perhaps a children's novel
about a young muggle-born wizard who goes to Hogwarts and befriends all sorts
of magical creatures. Then he helps one become a student and they have
wonderful adventures," he mused aloud, explaining the plot for his roman à
clef.
"So you want to write nonfiction?" Alfred asked with a grin.
Arthur laughed. "Actually, I'd like to label it fiction and sell it to muggles.
Everyone deserves to have a bit of magic in their life, if only vicariously."
He caught the look on Alfred's face and smiled. "You're going to say something
ridiculously sappy, aren't you?"
"Well... I was going to suggest that meeting you was pretty magical, but I
think maybe I'll just kiss you instead," he said, leaning close. He gave Arthur
a peck on the lips. "I wish you could have played with us in the match today,"
he murmured, resting his forehead against Arthur's.
"I had a splendid time watching you, love," Arthur reassured him. He had seen
Alfred fly a thousand times, but he still loved the sight. "You know, I suspect
that the rest of the team is still off partying," he suggested, casually
letting his hand slide down Alfred's back until it rested on the young man's
firm derrière.
Alfred caught on quickly. "Gee, I really could use a good butt massage."
And the next day when he blamed his sore butt and slight limp on 'riding a
broomstick' for several hours, he was only slightly exaggerating. It hadn't
really been hours.
===============================================================================
Alfred and Arthur played their final professional Quidditch game on a beautiful
spring day.
The Finches quickly racked up a high score, drawing loud cheers from their side
of the stands. Ever since the American team's World Cup victory, they had
enjoyed particularly excited crowds and packed stadiums. Arthur scanned the
field, knowing that the only way to turn their lead into a victory was by
catching the snitch. Even in the thick of action, dodging other players and
brooms, Arthur found it easy to maintain his calm focus. He gazed out across
the field, allowing instinct and experience to guide him. He flew off like a
shot as soon as he spotted a golden glimmer. He kept one hand on the broom
shaft and reached out with the other to claim his prize. With a smirk, he had
the cool, metal ball nestled in the palm of his hand.
Arthur landed on the pitch, enjoying the stadium's cheers as he held the golden
snitch aloft. He felt the snitch start to move again and he brought it down to
eye level, watching in surprise as it unfolded in the palm of his hand. Within
the hollow sphere was a small note, two golden rings, and a sterling silver
acorn swaddled in cotton. The note had a simple question:
Will you marry me? - AFJ
Arthur felt a gust of air next to him and turned to see Alfred landing nearby.
The American gave him a brilliant smile and cocked his head to the side,
waiting for his answer. Arthur gently touched one of the rings, enjoying its
clean, elegant lines. He lifted it up and looked at Alfred through the golden
circle. "What would you have done if the other seeker had caught this?" he
teased.
"Well, I guess I would've had to marry her," Alfred drawled as he rubbed his
chin and grinned mischievously. "So it's a good thing you caught it, babe." He
stepped closer and showed Arthur how the silver acorn popped open to reveal a
thimble inside.
Arthur held the thimble up into the sunlight and admired the intricate carvings
of horse shoes and four-leaf clovers along the base. It looked old, but had
clearly been well cared for. "Sometimes I think you rely a bit too much on
luck," Arthur replied, his lips quirking upward even as he continued to admire
the beauty of the antique thimble.
"Hey, it's worked pretty well so far," Alfred said with a shrug and a grin.
The Englishman placed the thimble back into its cotton swaddling. "Well, it's a
lovely choice of symbols," he said, impressed by the amount of thought that had
gone into the proposal. Alfred must have dug out his divinations book to find
that acorns meant happiness and contentment and thimble meant a nurturing home
life.
Alfred grinned nervously. "It's more than that. That's my great-great-
grandmother's engagement thimble. They used them instead of rings back in the
1800s." He clasped Arthur's hands in his. "You still haven't given me an
answer," he reminded.
"That's..." Arthur tried to speak but found himself suddenly choked up. Keeping
a tight grasp on snitch and its wonderful contents, he took one step forward
and kissed Alfred so hard that he nearly knocked the other man over. There was
an entire stadium celebrating their team's victory, but at that moment it felt
like they were the only two people on the field. After a long and glorious
kiss, Arthur slipped the larger engagement ring onto Alfred's ring finger.
"That's a yes, in case you were wondering," he said.
He gave the smaller ring to Alfred, who carefully slipped it onto the wrong
hand. After reminding Alfred that the ring was supposed to go on his left hand,
Alfred grinned and correct his mistake. Glancing down at his ring-finger,
Arthur admired the simple gold band. He felt like the luckiest man in the
world.
The best sort of luck wasn't a matter of getting what he thought he wanted. It
was matter of getting what he had, and being smart enough to see that it was
what he would have wanted had he known all along.
Chapter End Notes
     Using a thimble instead of a ring as an engagement present was pretty
     common in Colonial America because Puritans didn't like jewelry and
     preferred something useful. The practice actually continued until the
     late 1800s, so I've based the designs on images I found online of
     thimbles from the late 1800s. The acorn-shaped thimble holder and
     luck symbols on a thimble are real things. Also, I love chances for
     Arthur to show off his knowledge of tessomancy symbols ;)
***** Lemony Omake *****
Chapter Summary
     The abridged version and the reason ffnet deleted this story.
Chapter Notes
     This is a choose-your-own-smut adventure! If you want UKUS, start
     after the abridged version, enjoy the smut, then skip to "Option III:
     The Next Morning." If you want USUK, skip to "Option II: USUK" (ctrl-
     f is your friend) and then just keep reading.
     If you don't want any smut at all, read the abridged version and go
     to "Option III: The Next Morning" (but this is basically a smut
     chapter, so the non-smut is pretty short). If you like both UKUS and
     USUK, you can certainly read both, but it's pretty much 90% overlap
     because I was lazy.
O-M-A-K-E
The Extremely Abridged Quidditch House Rules
Chapter 1
Sorting Hat: Alfred Jones... Slytherin!
Arthur: Damn it.
Sorting Hat: Peter Kirkland... Gryffindor!
Arthur: Shoot me now.
Chapter 2
Alfred: Let's be friends!
Arthur: I already have friends. Magical, invisible friends.
Alfred: Fine! I'll get my own invisible friend. Hi Maddie!
Chapter 3
Alfred: Enough about love potions. Read my tea leaves! Do I have a short, ill-
tempered, alcoholic Brit in my future?
Arthur: ... what? How did you know that?! You said you were terrible at
divinations.
Alfred: Well, I can't read tea leaves, but I sure can read a fanfic summary.
Chapter 4
Arthur: I hate when AUs include a Revolutionary War bit.
Alfred: Because it makes you really sad?
Arthur: No, because my clothes get all muddy.
Chapter 5
Madeleine: Arthur, if I tell you where Alfred is, can you two please just get a
room already?
Kiku: * Pulls out video recorder *
Chapter 6
Arthur: I dun get *hic* why e'erybody loves rummy England *hic* so much.
Alfred: Because you're honest and horny, not to mention...
Arthur: Kiss me, America! * passes out on top of Alfred *
Alfred: ...it does wonders for our unresolved sexual tension.
Chapter 7
Arthur: Now that I'm sober, let the kissing commence.
Alfred: Take me now! * falls off seat *
Arthur: On second thought, a moving train might not be the best place.
Alfred: Then I will sit here consumed with lust for the rest of the train ride.
Chapter 8
Arthur: Alfred, I enjoy spending time with your family.
Alfred: Really? That's great!
Arthur: Yes. I see now that one advantage of being an orphan is that my mother
can't share embarrassing baby pictures with my boyfriends.
Alfred: Uh...
Arthur: Because she's dead.
Alfred: * awkward turtle *
Chapter 9
Peter: You're dating the Slytherin seeker!
Arthur: Please, that's completely ridiculous and untrue.
Peter: Don't lie to me! The internet told me what USUK means!
Chapter 10
Announcer: The Hufflepuffs win!
Everyone Else: Who?
Chapter 11
Alfred: Arthur, I wrote you a Valentine's Day poem.
Your eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
Your hair as soft as powered asphodel.
I'm glad you're mine, you're really divine,
The lion who conquered my heart.
Arthur: Wow.
Alfred: I know, right?
Arthur: That's almost as effective as a hate potion at making me question why I
love you.
Chapter 12
Alice: Why does everyone keep comparing me to a bunny?
Francis: Mon lapin, it is not an insult. You would not be ordinary rabbit. You
would be an animal with nasty, big, pointy teeth and a vicious streak a mile
wide!
Tim the Enchanter: Run away! Run away! She is the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog!
Alice: You know, I wondered how long it would take before someone made a Monty
Python reference.
Chapter 13
Gryffindors: Yay, we won!
Slytherins: * Yoink *
Gryffindors: WTF?
This Quidditch victory brought to you by the Slytherin House. "Crushing
Gryffindor Dreams Since 993 C.E."
Chapter 14
Alfred: So, we're on the same team and kissing in public and just letting the
haters hate. I think we've got it made, babe.
Arthur: There's still one more thing...
Peter: Why can't I be on a Quidditch team? WHY?!
Arthur: * watches Peter cry * Okay, now everything is perfect.
Chapter 15
Arthur: *gives rousing speech*
Alfred: *is aroused*
Chapter 16
Arthur: Yes, of course I'll marry you!
Alfred: This is the happiest day of my life.
Arthur: Better than winning Hogwart's Quidditch Cup?
Alfred: Yep
Arthur: Even better than winning the World Cup?
Alfred: Heck yeah.
Arthur: Is it better than broomstick sex and lots of chocolate?
Alfred: Huh, I think that's a trick question. On the plus side, babe, I've just
figured out plans for our honeymoon!
Chapter 17 (Smutty Omake)
Arthur: Alfie's Every Flavor Lube? I'm dubious.
Alfred: One of the flavors is rum.
Arthur: Sold!
===============================================================================
Option I: UKUS
It was obvious that Arthur was the one who had decorated the bedroom in their
Fitchburg house because the walls were a charming shade of yellow instead of
boasting patriotic stars-and-stripes wallpaper or superhero posters. Alfred had
agreed to the color based on its name—lemon chiffon. He liked shades that
reminded him of desserts. Tall, built-in bookcases stood on either side of a
large bay window. During the summer, Arthur would open the windows and curl up
with a book, looking completely relaxed as the wind gently ruffled his hair.
Because it was an old house, their bedroom even had a fireplace. On cold winter
nights, Alfred loved nothing more than snuggling up next to Arthur in front of
a roaring fire. He also liked making love in the warmth of the fire; the flames
cast a warm glow that made their flushed skin seem to blaze with the colors of
a sunset.
On this fine autumn evening, however, Alfred had a different plan. He brought
one of their old broomsticks up to the bedroom and covered the shaft with a
blanket. He tossed off his clothes and then lounged on the broom, finding a
comfortable position hovering just a couple feet over the ground. He grinned as
his husband walked into the bedroom. Arthur stood in place and gaped,
momentarily struck speechless by the sight of a naked American straddling a
broomstick.
"So, babe, I've been thinking..." Alfred began to explain.
"Well, uh, that's new," Arthur replied, stumbling over his words. He wanted to
make his snarky reply sound a little more biting, but the necessary circuits in
his brain must have shorted out. For some reason, the only words that easily
came to mind were 'fuck' and 'yes.'
Enjoying Arthur's flustered response, Alfred shook his finger. "None of your
sass, mister," he warned teasingly. "I've been thinking that we should give
this a try."
Arthur took in the sight of Alfred hovering just above the floor and quickly
realized what 'this' meant. Alfred wanted to ride the broomstick while Arthur
rode him. "Fuck yes," he replied, thanking his brain for giving him the right
response. He strode forward, tossing off his shirt and loosening his belt. His
pants dropped to the floor and he kicked them off with practiced ease.
Sometimes he liked a slow game of strip tease, but at the moment he just wanted
his clothes to melt away.
Arthur admired his naked husband for a moment, before sitting sideways on the
broom shaft for a bit of foreplay. He twisted his body to face Alfred, kissing
him fiercely and tracing his fingers along the other man's chest and abs.
Alfred had filled out nicely since his time at Hogwarts, adding a few inches in
height and a significant amount of muscle. Arthur looked down, admiring how
Alfred's cock had also grown. Just like a broomstick it could obey simple
commands—especially 'up!'
While Arthur was distracted, Alfred grabbed him around the waist and left a
bruising kiss on Arthur's neck. Arthur moaned as he felt Alfred's calloused
hands slide to his thighs and then start to beat him off, even as they
continued to kiss—hungry open-mouth kisses that filled Arthur with a haze of
pleasure. An inarticulate moan escaped Arthur's lips. The breathtaking kisses
and strokes were marvelous, but it wasn't quite what he thought Alfred had in
mind.
As if sensing Arthur's unasked question, Alfred held up a bottle of homemade
lotion with a wink and a grin. Arthur felt a wonderful warm and tingling
sensation as Alfred coated him with a bit of lotion. The scent of chocolate
suddenly filled the air. "Do you like it?" Alfred asked. "It tastes like
chocolate too." He grinned and spread more of the lotion on his fingers. With
vigorous stroking motions, he thickly coated Arthur's cock. He wanted it good
and slick, and he enjoyed lathering on the lotion.
Satisfied with a job well down, Alfred capped the bottle. As he set it on the
floor, an idea occurred to him. He still hadn't tried the chocolate-flavored
lube in action and he wanted a taste. He licked his lips and leaned forward,
touching his mouth to the tip of Arthur's cock. He began with just a small
lick, enjoying the milky chocolate flavor. He then opened his mouth and worked
his way down, luxuriating in the feeling of a warm, pulsing cock in his mouth.
His head bobbed up and down—making the broomstick move in tandem—as he tried to
take in more and more of the delicious taste. The chocolate flavor merged
perfectly with Arthur's soft, salty skin, just as he had imagined it would.
Arthur slipped his fingers into Alfred's hair. He pulled back gently, letting
Alfred know to stop. He loved the feel of Alfred's warm and welcoming mouth, so
moist and perfect, but tonight Arthur wanted to hold himself at the edge of
ecstasy for as long as he could manage. He wanted it to be a ride Alfred would
never forget.
"Lotion?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the bottle on the floor.
Alfred nodded. "Just a sec," he said, grinning and licking his fingers, one at
a time. He moved them back and forth in his mouth, relishing the friction and
the delightfully sweet taste. He licked his lips with satisfaction. Alfred had
created a very successful line of magical lotions for the bedroom and he could
tell this would be another winner. Arthur felt a swell of passion fill his
chest as he watched Alfred's little show, admiring the flushed reddish sheen to
his skin and his heavy lust-filled eyes. He couldn't resist leaning forward and
kissing the young man, trying to get a taste of his mouth.
The broomstick dipped downward as Alfred grabbed the potion off the floor. He
handed the bottle of lotion to Arthur, who coated his own fingers and added a
large dollop to the palm of his hand. Finished, he tossed the bottle to the
bed. With his normal fluid grace, Arthur slipped around the other man, lifting
his leg easily over the broom and firmly planting his feet on the ground. It
was a tight squeeze between the broomstick bristles and Alfred's butt, but he
could make it work.
"Just a touch higher, love," Arthur said, giving Alfred's bum an affectionate
pat. The broom rose slightly and Alfred leaned forward, lying flat on the
broomstick in open invitation. Even though Alfred begged for him to hurry up,
Arthur waited until the lubricating lotion was warm in his hands. He gently
circled his first finger before pressing in, drawing a loud and wonderful moan
from Alfred. Arthur took his time exploring and stretching before he added the
second finger. Alfred cried out excitedly as Arthur began scissoring his slick
fingers. Alfred eagerly jutted backwards, causing the entire broomstick to
shift. Arthur toppled forward and they both landed in a heap of naked limbs on
the floor, with Arthur mostly resting on top of Alfred.
Perhaps a broomstick wasn't the best option.
Arthur pulled himself to his feet and gave Alfred a hand to help him up. He
kissed the other man and tweaked his nipples as punishment. "Shall we try that
again?" he asked, eyeing Alfred's still-erect cock.
"Second time's the charm," Alfred said, eagerly repositioning himself and the
blanket on the broomstick. The tumble hadn't dampened his mood at all.
"Third time, generally," Arthur replied. "So try to hold still." He swung his
leg behind Alfred and this time he grasped the other man's hips to hold him
steady. The broom nestled between Arthur's smooth thighs, tickling him in a
wonderfully pleasant manner. Hands firmly planted, he pushed in gently, drawing
a long moan from Alfred's throat. Alfred clenched and then adjusted, eagerly
letting Arthur know when he was ready to pick up the pace—faster, harder, more.
The sound of galloping breaths and sharp moans filled the bedroom. Arthur
pounded him mercilessly and barely noticed in his haze of pleasure as the
broomstick began to shake beneath him.
But instead of tumbling, Alfred used the broom to rock slightly backward as
Arthur pushed forward, intensifying the power of each thrust. The moist warmth
felt amazing. Arthur gasped, filled with euphoria. He kept his hands clasped on
Alfred's hips to prevent the energetic young man from overbalancing and sending
them falling to the floor again. Alfred's loud pants and breathless moans
reassured him that his husband was enjoying the tight pressure and forceful
thrusts as much as he was.
Arthur's entire body felt alive with pleasure, like he was encased in a sauna.
His world narrowed to breathless moans and electrifying passion and heat like
dragon fire searing through his veins. His vision dimmed as he poured himself
into Alfred.
Arthur shuddered and collapsed against Alfred's back, grateful that the
broomstick was strong enough to support them both. It took him a moment to
realize that they were moving closer to the bed, the sensation of flying
blending in with the feeling of passionate sex. It barely registered when he
landed with a dull thump onto the sheets. They lay entwined as they caught
their breath, Arthur spooning Alfred, and Alfred still wrapped around the
broomstick. Arthur sighed drowsily, fighting back sleep as he heard Alfred say
something. "Hmm?" he asked. The American rotated his head to the side so Arthur
could hear him easier.
"I was wondering if you wanted to join me for a quick shower, sleepy-head, but
that sounds like a no," Alfred replied with a gentle chuckle. Alfred smiled as
he listened to Arthur's breathing even out. Staying in the warm bed sounded
nice, but it probably wasn't worth the risk of slivers and he hated the feeling
of dried cum in the morning. He slipped out of Arthur's grasp and set the
broomstick against the bedroom wall. Hearing Arthur murmur unhappily as the
warmth of his body heat disappeared, Alfred covered him with a blanket and gave
him a kiss on the cheek. "Be right back," he promised.
Alfred showered quickly and returned with a washcloth for Arthur. Arthur
mumbled something incomprehensible as Alfred cleaned him off. Alfred tossed the
towel to the floor and curled up against Arthur, pulling the blanket over both
of them. Arthur spoke again and this time his words were clear. "I love you,"
Arthur murmured as he wrapped his arms around Alfred, head resting against his
husband's neck.
"I know," Alfred replied, smiling contentedly as he drifted off to sleep.
===============================================================================
Option II: USUK
It was obvious that Arthur was the one who had decorated the bedroom in their
Fitchburg house because the walls were a charming shade of yellow instead of
boasting patriotic stars-and-stripes wallpaper or superhero posters. Alfred had
agreed to the color based on its name—lemon chiffon. He liked shades that were
named after desserts. Tall, built-in bookcases stood on either side of a large
bay window. During the summer, Arthur would open the windows and curl up with a
book, looking completely relaxed as the wind gently ruffled his hair.
Because it was an old house, their bedroom even had a fireplace. On cold winter
nights, Alfred loved nothing more than snuggling up with Arthur in front of a
roaring fire. He also liked making love in the warmth of the fire; the flames
cast a warm glow that made their flushed skin seem to blaze with the colors of
a sunset.
On this fine autumn evening, however, Alfred had a different plan. He brought
one of their old broomsticks up to the bedroom and covered the shaft with a
blanket. He tossed off his clothes and then lounged on the broom, finding a
comfortable position hovering just a couple feet over the ground. He grinned as
his husband walked into the bedroom. Arthur stood in place and gaped,
momentarily struck speechless by the sight of a naked American straddling a
broomstick.
"So, babe, I've been thinking..." Alfred began to explain. He patted the
broomstick and invited Arthur to join him.
"You've been listening to Elizabeta, more like," Arthur replied. But he still
grinned and walked forward, tossing off his shirt and loosening his belt. His
pants dropped to the floor and he kicked them off with practiced ease.
Sometimes he liked a slow game of strip tease, but at the moment he just wanted
his clothes to melt away. He wasn't quite sure what naked time with the
broomstick would entail, but he was willing to give it a try.
"Yep, and I've spent all day thinking about how I could take you on a broom,"
Alfred explained as Arthur disrobed. "All the potential positions and fan-
fucking-tastic noises you'd make," he drawled.
"Sounds like you've been a busy boy," Arthur replied with a smirk. He sat down
on the broom backwards, straddling it so that he was directly facing his
husband.
"Mmm-hmm," Alfred cheerfully agreed. "If you lay on the broom and I stand
behind you, I think we'd get a good angle. What do you say, darling?"
Arthur thought it over and decided it could work. He waited a moment to let the
tension building, admiring his naked and endearingly eager husband. Alfred had
filled out nicely since his time at Hogwarts, adding height and a significant
amount of muscle. Arthur looked down, enjoying how Alfred's cock had also
grown. "I think that sounds marvelous. I'd cast an engorgement charm, but all
your broomstick needs is a little 'up' command," he purred. He leaned forward
and kissed Alfred fiercely and tracing his fingers along the other man's chest
and abs. He let his hands slide to Alfred's thighs, even as they continued to
kiss—hungry open-mouth kisses that filled Arthur with a haze of pleasure. An
inarticulate moan escaped Arthur's lips. "Lube?" Arthur asked huskily, in-
between kisses.
Alfred held up a bottle of homemade lotion with a wink and a grin. He handed it
over. Arthur opened the bottle and the sharp scent of rum filled his nostrils.
"Do you like it?" Alfred asked. "It tastes like rum too."
Arthur grinned and spread the lotion onto his fingers. With vigorous stroking
motions, he thickly coated Alfred's cock. He wanted it good and slick, and he
enjoyed lathering on the lotion. Satisfied with a job well down, Arthur capped
the bottle. As he set it on the floor, an idea occurred to him. He licked his
lips and leaned forward, touching his mouth to the tip of Alfred's cock. He
began with just a small kiss, enjoying the sharp rum flavor. He then opened his
mouth and worked his way down, luxuriating in the feeling of a warm, pulsing
cock in his mouth. His head bobbed up and down—making the broomstick move in
tandem—as he tried to take in more and more of the delicious taste. The rum
flavor merged perfectly with Alfred's salty skin.
Alfred slipped his fingers into Arthur's hair. "Hnn... real close," he warned,
gently pulling up on Arthur's hair. He loved the feel of Arthur's warm and
welcoming mouth, so moist and perfect, but tonight Alfred wanted to hold
himself at the edge of ecstasy for as long as he could manage. He wanted it to
be a ride Arthur would never forget.
Arthur nodded. "One moment, love," he said, as he grinned and licked his
fingers, one at a time. He moved them back and forth in his mouth, relishing
the friction and the delightfully sweet taste. He licked his lips with
satisfaction when he finished. Alfred had created a very successful line of
magical lotions for the bedroom and he could tell this would be another winner.
Alfred felt a swell of passion fill his chest as he watched Arthur's little
show, admiring the flushed reddish sheen to his normally pale skin and the dark
green tint of his heavy lust-filled eyes. Alfred couldn't resist leaning
forward and kissing the other man, trying to get a taste of his mouth. The
broomstick dipped downward as Alfred grabbed the potion off the floor. He
coated his fingers and added a large dollop to the palm of his hand. Finished,
he tossed the bottle to the bed. Alfred stood up and lifted a leg over the
broom so that he was standing directly behind Arthur.
"Babe, could you move up a bit?" Alfred said, giving Arthur's butt an
affectionate pat. The broom rose slightly and Arthur leaned forward, lying flat
on the broomstick in open invitation. The Englishman buried his face against
the blanket-covered bristles. Alfred gently circled his first finger before
pressing in, drawing a loud and wonderful moan of pleasure from Arthur. He took
his time exploring and stretching before he added the second finger. Arthur
cried out excitedly as Alfred began scissoring his slick fingers.
"Get on with it," Arthur demanded eagerly after Alfred finished with the third
finger.
"Okay, darling. Try to hold still," Alfred replied. He grasped the other man's
hips to hold him steady. Hands and feet firmly planted, he gently pushed in,
drawing a long moan from Arthur's throat. Arthur clenched and then adjusted,
eagerly letting Alfred know when he was ready to pick up the pace. The sound of
galloping breaths and sharp moans filled the bedroom. Alfred thrust eagerly and
barely noticed in his haze of pleasure as the broomstick began to shake beneath
him.
But instead of tumbling, Arthur used the broom to rock slightly backward as
Alfred pushed forward, intensifying the power of each thrust. The moist warmth
felt amazing. Alfred gasped, filled with euphoria. Arthur's loud pants and
breathless moans reassured him that his husband was enjoying the tight pressure
and thrusts as much as he was. Alfred's entire body felt alive with pleasure,
like he was encased in a sauna. His world narrowed to breathless moans and
electrifying passion and heat like dragon fire searing through his veins. His
vision dimmed as he poured himself into Arthur.
Alfred shuddered and leaned against Arthur's back, glad that the broomstick was
strong enough to support them both. He reached around to check if his husband
still needed a helping hand, but the sticky warmth on Arthur's stomach
reassured him that Arthur had enjoyed the ride too. Grasping the broom shaft,
Alfred backed the broomstick to the bed. They landed together with a dull thump
and lay entwined as they caught their breath, Alfred spooning Arthur, and
Arthur still wrapped around the broomstick.
Alfred smiled as he listened to Arthur's breathing even out. He liked cuddling
after sex, whereas Arthur promptly fell asleep. Fortunately, Alfred was more
than happy to cuddle Arthur while he slept. If anything, Arthur looked even
cuter while he was sleeping. Noticing that Arthur still held the broomstick,
Alfred gently pried it from his grasp and tossed it to the floor. The clatter
of wood on the floor was enough to briefly rouse Arthur.
"I love you," Alfred murmured as he gently pressed his lips against Arthur's
soft hair.
"I know," Arthur replied, sighing contentedly as he drifted back to sleep.
===============================================================================
Option III: The Next Morning
Alfred normally wasn't a morning person, but he knew that if he didn't get up
before Arthur on Sundays, Arthur would be the one to make breakfast. Despite
paying for cooking lessons and buying a thorough collection of cookbooks,
Arthur still couldn't manage anything more complicated than toast. (And even
then, the toast ended up burnt on one side and completely uncooked on the
other.) Which is why Arthur woke up to an empty bed and walked downstairs to
find Alfred making biscuits and gravy. Alfred insisted that he didn't need any
help, so Arthur read the Sunday paper while he waited.
Their kitchen had the same light and airy feel as the rest of the house. Large
windows in the breakfast nook gave them a wonderful view of Arthur's garden.
Arthur selected a wide variety of plants, allowing them to enjoy blooming
flowers year round. White asters, red chrysanthemums, and tall goldenrod gave
their backyard a distinctly autumn feel.
Arthur prepared a cup of tea—the one thing he could reliably do without setting
the kitchen on fire—and sat down at the small wicker table they kept in their
breakfast nook. He summoned the newspaper from their doorstep and sipped his
tea. As Arthur flipped through the paper, an article about wizarding foster
families caught his eye.
"Gaunt Orphanage Closing Delayed," he said, reading one of the headlines aloud.
Arthur had been following the story closely and he approved of the efforts to
deinstitutionalize the children. "Seems like they're having a hard time finding
homes for some of the suspected squibs," he remarked. It was impossible to know
if a very young child had inherited their parents' power. Many wizarding
families were as thrilled by their child's first magical spell as they were by
the child's first word or first successful walk—they treated it as a joyous
occasion deserving of great celebration. But after the fourth or fifth
birthday, parents started to question their child's magical prowess. Arthur's
heart ached for the poor children who had been left alone in the world and
treated as inferior just because of suspected lack of magical abilities.
"Yeah, my mom mentioned that in her last letter," Alfred replied, still
standing in front of the stove as he continued to stir the homemade sausage
gravy.
Arthur smiled; he had wanted to bring the topic up casually to gauge Alfred's
interest, but it seemed Alfred's mother had beat him to it. "Your mother wants
grandchildren any way she can get them," he explained.
Alfred blinked. "Oh, is that what she was hinting at?" He hummed to himself as
he pulled the perfectly golden biscuits out of the oven. They steamed as he
broke them in half and smothered them with gravy. Alfred set one of the plates
in front of Arthur and plopped down into the wicker chair across from his
husband. He took a bite, swallowed, and glanced up at Arthur. "We could, you
know," he said.
The words warmed Arthur's heart, but he didn't want to pressure Alfred into a
decision he might regret. "A child's a lot of work," Arthur warned.
"We've got the guest bedroom and a nice collection of kids stories since we
have all the ones you've written," Alfred said, referring to Arthur's lucrative
post-Quidditch career writing children's books. "Plus, I always figured we got
a big house because we would at some point."
Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "And here I thought you wanted a large
house just so you could ride around on a broomstick indoors."
Alfred grinned. "That too."
"Well, we shouldn't rush into a decision. Mull it over, and I'll see what the
application process entails," Arthur said before taking another sip of his tea.
He knew it was a good idea to take his time and ponder the options, but his
heart had already reached a decision. "And you probably shouldn't mention it to
your mum until everything is finalized," he added. He didn't want prodding from
Mama Jones to tip the scales.
"Yes, Mum," Alfred cheekily replied. He happily finished the rest of his
breakfast and left to go take Silver for a walk. He looked a little silly
walking around with an invisible unicorn on a leash, but they lived in a
wizarding neighborhood and the neighbors were used to seeing strange things.
Arthur finished his tea and the rest of the newspaper. By habit, he glanced at
the bottom of the cup and saw that his tea leaves had formed the shape of a
teddy bear. Smiling to himself, Arthur decided that his next sewing project
would be a bear.
Just in case.
End Notes
     This story was deleted from ffnet, so I'm reuploading the original
     here!
     (I checked the underage warning because the boys are 16 and 17 and
     things get pretty steamy.)
     Gryffindor vs. Slytherin
     Alfred acts like the Gryffindor posterboy most of the time, but I
     think there are elements of his personality that would fit well
     within Slytherin. For example: I see Alfred as being competitive,
     ambitious, and a prankster. So expect him to spend less time talking
     about being a hero and more time talking about being a Quidditch
     star.
     Likewise, Arthur gets slotted into Slytherin fairly often, mostly to
     create delicious tension through an interhouse romance. Or possibly
     because he looks good in green. Yet he has a lot of great Gryffindor
     traits: he's brave, determined, and aspires to be a gentleman. (Plus,
     the house animal is a lion, how is that not perfect for Arthur?)
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