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Shouto cursed his father, looking down at the Hogsmeade permission form devoid of any signature. According to his shitty old man, he should train and perfect his magic instead of going to the weekend trip. So here he was, sitting in the library, flickering through a heavy volume for his History of Magic homework. Midoriya had wanted to stay with him, as selfless as he always was, but Shouto had insisted he went to Hogsmeade.
“Bring me some sweets from Honeydukes,” he had asked of him before Midoriya had scurried away to join Iida and Urakara
Still, he was unable to focus on his homework, longing to be close to the freckled wizard. He shut the book, placing it back on his shelf by twirling his wand, and laid his forehead on the table. Sighing, he listened to silence. Everyone had left for Hogsmeade, and the first and second years were all outside enjoying the nice weather, so he was the only one there aside from the librarian.
Still, he checked to make sure no one was present before gingerly pulling up his sleeves, revealing his arms that were mottled with bruises. He groaned as his fingers traced a ecchymosis on his forearm.
“Episkey,” he whispered, watching as the purple mark faded away. “Episkey.”
He repeated the spell until it was tolerable. His arms were speckled with darker spots that could arose suspicion, but everyone knew better than to prod at him. The only one he would have to be careful around was Midoriya. If the bruises didn’t fade soon, then Midoriya would notice them and Shouto would have to explain something he’d rather not think about.
He stood up, no clear destination in mind. The students would come back around four, so he still had two hours to kill. Sleeves once more covering his arms and hands tucked in his pocket, he wandered around. He was nearing the Dungeons when he wondered if the Blemish Blitzer, a potion to get rid of acne, could remove his marks. He was aware Recovery Girl had a healing paste that could solve the problem, but going to the infirmary meant someone knowing about his injuries. He could not have that.
The Potion-making Room was empty, as expected. He strolled inside, inspecting the ingredients at his disposition. He dug in his memories, trying to remember Midoriya’s coaching on elixirs and specific plants. His fingers trailed on the jars as he read their tag.
“Dandelion root, deadlyius, death-cap, dittany,” he murmured under his breath.
In a flash, he remembered Midoriya indicating a book on his lap, the page opened the picture of a small flower. “Dittany, used for its healing and restorative properties. Can heal grave wounds by regrowing flesh, burns, cuts and prevent scarification.”
He grabbed the jar and opened it. The plant inside looked insignificant.
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t startle, one hand frozen above the jar. He knew that sealing it would make some noises that Aizawa-sensei would pick up.
“You need authorisation to come here,” the professor continued. “What did you want to brew?”
“Essence of Dittany,” he confessed, knowing Aizawa-sensei was a strong Legilimens and lying to him could bring disastrous consequences.
“Why is that? Is someone gravely wounded?”
There was no judgment in his voice but Shouto flushed in shame. “No, sensei.”
“Then put that jar back.”
Shouto complied, checking if his mental barriers were still standing. His father had trained him in the art of Occlumency exactly to keep people from rummaging through his memories. However, Aizawa had made no tentative to intrude his thoughts.
“Recovery Girl exists if someone’s hurt.”
“You’re right, sensei. I apologise. I’ll return to the Great Hall.”
He moved towards the exit, ignoring Aizawa. It was rude of him but he couldn’t trust his eyes. If they settled on his professor while screaming for help, then it was all over. He was on the threshold when the teacher’s hand snatched his sleeve. Instantly, Shouto jerked away and tugged down at his sleeve. Aizawa was watching him, eyes a shade darker than before.
“So you’re the one who’s hurt.”
“It’s nothing serious, sensei. I should’ve gone to Recovery Girl instead of taking dittany.”
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. “If something’s happened, you have to tell your Professors.”
Shouto was trapped between the wall and his Potions teacher’s glare pinning him where he was. He took a sharp intake of air, wondering why the Dungeons’ humidity was so suffocating all of sudden. Somewhere in the corner of his eyes, he swore he saw his father’s shadow growing closer.
“Nothing’s happened, sensei.”
Then Aizawa stepped back, averting his eyes. “We’ll see about this. You may go.”
He didn’t understand his teacher’s ominous words but didn’t hesitate to slip out of the room.
“Todoroki-kun, did you sleep well lately?”
Shouto glanced at Midoriya. “Why are you asking?”
“You always look tired.”
He took his hands in his own, offering him a rare smile, “I am tired, yes, but it’s alright. Thank you for looking after me, Midoriya.”
The freckled wizard blushed, but even Shouto couldn’t be certain he was blushing as well. They had yet to talk about their relationship. They were still young, grappling with their feelings on top of their lessons. Shouto thought they shouldn’t worry about it too much, or else it could ruin their present interactions.
“I’ve heard from Tsuyu that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was… eccentric.”
“Yeah, Yaoyorozu seemed shaken when she left the class.”
“Apparently it’s gotta do something with a creature,” Kirishima intervened. “Should be a piece of cake since you guys faced a basilisk.”
“There are many creatures as terrifying as the basilisk,” Midoriya retorted. “I can think of only one that could be allowed within Hogwarts and be as fearful. A Boggart.”
The word itself sounded like a malediction, but it wasn’t until their class that Shouto learned just how much of a malediction this creature was. Their teacher was a small, elderly man, who had an energy rivalling with Midoriya’s. He would occupy the post for only one year. He had told them without preamble, and then moved directly to the lesson. Midoriya’s assumption had been right; Gran Torino would confront them to the Boggart.
“The Boggart feeds on fear. Once it faces a person, it’ll take the shape of said person’s greatest fear. To defeat a Boggart, one must think about something funny and say the incantation Riddikulus.”
“Riddikulus,” Midoriya repeated beside Shouto.
The teacher beckoned the closet where the Boggart was trapped. “Who wants to go first?”
Everyone was silent, eyeing each other. Shouto wanted to shrink on his seat and disappear. Wasn’t this a bit extreme as a way of learning? After all, the whole class would witness their deepest fear. He didn’t know about the others, but it wasn’t something he was willing to share with someone else.
“I ain’t fucking scared,” Bakugou exclaimed, his chair scraping as he got up.
“Alright. Remember the spell and think about something funny.”
Bakugou cracked his knuckles, then readied his wand. With a swirl of Torino’s wand, the closet’s door opened, creaking. The students were on the edge of their seat, trying to see the creature. The air warped in front of the Slytherin, then a woman appeared, arms akimbo, her hairstyle similar to Bakugou’s. Her face was covered with burns, reminiscent of Shouto’s scar. Bakugou’s mother? Shouto wondered. He rubbed his arms, uneasy, as he watched the scene unfold.
“Ah, is the thing broken? That old hag doesn’t—”
“Katsuki,” the woman cut off, advancing towards the student, “you hurt—”
But Bakugou would have none of it as he brandished his wand, yelling, “Riddikulus!”
Immediately, the woman’s clothes changed to an oversized coat and a hat sporting a vulture on a top of it. The class erupted in laughter and snickers, causing the Boggart to step back. But Shouto didn’t even twitch. He never would’ve thought Bakugou would have a fear similar to his, or perhaps he had been too harsh judging the Slytherin. Had no one grasped Bakugou’s fear except for him? As he met Midoriya’s wide eyes, he realised he had understood too.
Gran Torino nodded as the creature’s shape flickered, affected by the light mood. “Well done, Bakugou. Ten points to Slytherin. Now, who wants to try?”
The tension now dissipated, the students all lined up. All except for Shouto who stayed at his desk, his hands still on his arms and shielding his chest. The laughter was worth the fear, it seemed, but Shouto was unable to picture his fear in a funny or humiliating situation. Plus, everyone would see it.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya told him when he noticed him motionless. “It’s not real. It won’t hurt you.”
“I prefer passing.”
Midoriya hesitated, then accepted his decision as he joined the line. His classmates’ fears were mostly silly things. There was nothing wrong in being scared of spiders or clowns, or even being scared to hurt loved ones like Bakugou. But being scared of… Shouto’s fear was uncommon and could be used against him.
“What’s wrong with you, Gryffindor?” His professor rounded his desk, quirking a brow. “You’re supposed to be brave and yet you don’t want to participate?”
“I think my fear may upset certain people, so I don’t want to disturb the class.”
Torino rubbed his chin pensively. “Alright, this is a valid answer but what exactly is your fear?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
Their eyes locked. Shouto’s gaze didn’t waver. Inwardly, he double checked his mental barriers in case his teacher would prod at his thoughts but he felt no attack. He wondered if Aizawa had informed his fellows teachers about their encounter in the Potion-making Room. He hoped not.
Torino stared at him before declaring, “I won’t insist, but I’ll deduct ten points from Gryffindor.”
He could deduct Gryffindor’s two hundred and forty-nine points and Shouto wouldn’t even consider thinking back on his decision.
They were sprawled on the grass, watching the stars glimmering in the sky. Midoriya was testing his knowledge on constellations, his finger drawing lines in the air. Shouto was more than happy to listen and snuggle close to him for warmth. It was eerily silent, except for the Black Squid’s occasional splashes and their breathing in harmony.
“Have you considered taking Astronomy classes or joining the club?”
“Not really. I just like the stories behind the stars.”
Shouto hummed in the crook of Midoriya’s neck. “Tell me about your favourite.”
“It’s like asking me to choose my favourite candy at Honeydukes! You don’t ask easy questions, Todoroki-kun. I guess I like Alopex Teumesios, a giant fox who punishes crimes in Thebes and was always destined to never be caught. However, Lailaps, a dog who was destined to always catch its quarry, was sent chasing after Alopex. Seeing this paradox, Zeus transferred them in the stars so they could pursue each other for eternity.”
“The only legend I know is Orion the Hunter’s.”
Midoriya’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t like his story. I heard he bragged about killing every creature on Earth, so Gaia herself — Mother Earth — sent a scorpion to kill him. Why would someone want to kill every creature on Earth? I think he got what he deserved.”
“You like animals, don’t you? You’re eager for Care of Magical Creatures.”
As if flipping a switch, the gloomy on his face was swept away. “Yes! Are you going to take this class too, Todoroki-kun?”
He hadn’t thought about it, but he didn’t trust himself around animals. He was scared of hurting them. He was aware some creatures could hurt him more than he could with them, but it didn’t lessen his fear. Still, Midoriya was looking so excited, and he was so close that Shouto could kiss him instead of answering.
“I’ll think about it,” he croaked, resisting the urge to kiss him.
His answer satisfied Midoriya, who went back to telling him the legends of the sky. When they decided to go back to their dorm, the temperature had dropped and the wind, risen. The grass seemed to dance in the moonlight as it was rustled by the wind. Shouto didn’t fail to catch Midoriya’s shivers and removed his cloak without missing a beat.
“There,” he told him as he wrapped it around the freckled wizard. “It’ll keep you warm.”
He leaned down and planted a chaste kiss and Midoriya’s forehead. For a second Shouto thought he had wrecked everything, but Midoriya grinned at him and tiptoed to kiss him back on the cheek.
“Thank you.”
Then his eyes strayed to his arms. Shouto followed his gaze, apprehension pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t expected removing his cloak, so he was wearing in a simple t-shirt. His skin was better than before, but with the moonlight it highlighted the difference in colour, making them look worse. Shouto wanted to reach for his cloak to cover himself, but then again Midoriya needed it and he had already seen.
Merlin, he had already seen.
“They look worse than they are. It doesn’t hurt,” Shouto insisted as he covered his arms with his hands but there was too much skin to hide. “It’ll fade away.”
“Who did this to you, Todoroki-kun?”
He was shocked by his voice’s hollowness but protested, “It’s nothing, Midoriya, there’s no—”
“Shouto.”
Shouto gasped, the sound drowned in the wind. He would be a liar if he said he had never dreamed of Midoriya calling him by his first name, but the situations he had pictured were so different than this one. Somehow it made him want to cry.
“Who did this to you?”
If you tell anyone— “No one.”
“You don’t have to be afraid. You can trust me.”
Midoriya looked so disappointed that Shouto hadn’t told him. It was like a knife driven in his heart. It was worst than the Cruciatus Curse, in a way. This pain was different yet as acute.
—anyone, I don’t care who— “Accidents happen, Midoriya,” was his feeble answer.
“How did you do this then?”
—I’ll make sure this person will never be able to tell someone else— “Backlash. I may have practised too many spells lately.”
“Which one?”
—and you, Shouto— “Many. The Stupefying Spell, for example.”
“Don’t take me for an idiot. I know you and your magic. You’ve mastered spells above this level, and if you did suffer from sort of rebound, which do not exist, then you would’ve gone to Recovery Girl. Those bruises weren’t treated by Recovery Girl. It means you didn’t want her to see.”
—if you thought your training couldn’t be more intense you’re mistaken. “There’s nothing to see.”
“Is this the reason you didn’t want people to see your fear? Because it’s the person who did it?”
Shouto averted his eyes, feeling naked under Midoriya’s piercing gaze. “Partly,” he admitted. “This person’s not my only fear.”
Midoriya didn’t say anything. Instead, he took Shouto’s hand. He hadn’t noticed it was shaking until it was steadied by Midoriya’s gentle grip. The latter drew him back to the tree where they had been lying under. He huddled next to Shouto under his cloak, never letting go of his hand. Shouto’s breath hitched as he realised he wouldn’t be questioned further and wouldn’t be pressured to spill his secrets. He remembered Midoriya’s letters from last year, words of patience and kindness lace together. Midoriya would wait for him, and although Shouto wasn’t completely ready, he trusted him.
“My greatest fear,” Shouto whispered in Midoriya’s ear, “is myself.”
He was grateful he couldn’t see his own expression. He didn’t want to imagine what it could be. He had worked on perfecting his mask, but his father had always told him his eyes kept on betraying him. What were they showing Midoriya? Fear, disgust, shame, or perhaps a combination of all three?
“My father has... great expectations. He wants me to be like him. Normally it’s the other way around, no? The child wants to be like his father, but I don’t want to. I’m so scared one day I’ll wake up with a stone instead of my heart, and that I’ll be everything he wished for.”
“Shouto, look at me.”
He almost disobeyed, but somehow he couldn’t refuse this boy anything. Shouto met his heartfelt gaze, green eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
“I never got to face the Boggart, but I don’t need to confront it to know what my greatest fear is.” He leaned closer, his breath ghosting on Shouto’s face. “My greatest fear is to lose you.”
“Midoriya.”
He shushed him, one hand on his lips. “Izuku.”
Shouto’s throat was too dry. He couldn’t open his mouth again and utter a sound except, maybe, a sob of relief.
“Since you’re scared of losing yourself and me, of losing you, then as long as we’re together, we’ll keep each other anchored. How does that sound?”
No words were needed. Shouto brushed his nose against Izuku’s, giving him an Eskimo kiss. The freckled teen must’ve been ticklish because he giggled. Shouto felt like melting at the sight.
“This is the best idea I’ve ever heard,” he smiled. “I’ll never let you go, Midoriya Izuku.”
And as he leaned to close the distance separating their lips, Shouto’s hands stopped shaking.