Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hogwarts felt stranger every year Akechi returned to it.

A blue tie was laced tight around his throat, the proud blue and silver eagle from his House sewn onto his black coat, over his heart. He had missed the strange formalities of wizard education, the suits and ties, medieval colours stamped in cashmere, but mostly, he had missed the sense of normalcy.

Now, he was simply a Ravenclaw student in a train, almost dozing off as he stared at the window and the mountains on the horizon, the mist making a joke of his sore eyes with endless mirages. He'd be back in his dormitory soon along with all the other sixth year students, a much busier and warmer sight than his muggle apartment or that room in St. Mungus' Hospital.

Now, he was just another missable Ravenclaw student in the crowd.

He stretched himself slowly, in relief, a small smile gracing his features as the train shook against the rails, the soft bumps and the faint hum of the engine easing him more and more into rest. He had never cared much for trains, but the Express had become almost a second home to him in these past five years. The soft curtains, the blabber from the students — everything bursted with life when compared to his summer job at the Ministry of Magic and its silent and cold tiles, well-behaved adults discussing in hushed whispers.

In this train, he could finally rest. His saviour liked gambling with death too much, and one day she had come to collect her due, restless work.

Sae was pretty fucking far from nice, maybe that’s what made her likeable. Working at the Ministry of Magic was always a pleasure no matter how many vacations he spent there, and this last month of this questionable contract Sae chose to call an "internship" had definitely been... fun. Fun, a strange word to describe working for Auror Niijima. On a good day, she could be bearable — sure, she had a habit of overworking herself and those around her, and sure, the woman either liked to see him suffer or she simply refused to spend money on anything better than self-service food, but she... Akechi’s nose twitched, as he chuckled to himself. That despicable woman was probably one of the few good people in the Auror section nowadays.

On the other hand, Sae was the devil in the form of a woman, or maybe worse. She had the worst traits all Niijimas carried: arrogance, stubbornness, and a damned good eye for details that Akechi would prefer to remain away from view. He paused, remembering the woman's russet brown eyes, almost red, boring into his soul as she asked if he had been fine after that Dementor.

Yes. He had been just. Dandy.

Akechi shivered at the memory as his wrist burned, forcing him to properly wake up to scratch at the irritated skin. When he was done, he readjusted his gloves. He had never been quite fine, and the only crack his perfect image had above the surface, a strange tattoo of a snake and a skull, was hidden far from wandering eyes.

He shook his head, tried to think about the brighter parts of his work: The thrill of catching the culprit, the coffee, so tasteless Minty the elf must've pissed on it, the strange trinkets he got to work with, some encrypted with their own kind of magic. Even Sae.

There was a loud hiss from the engine accompanied by a wailing siren, and the train picked up speed. His luggage bumped against the floor in the empty cabin, and his owl rattled against its cage, yet Akechi couldn't be bothered to pay half a mind to it, or the smell of coffee and chocolate coming from a few cabins' away. Everything became white background noise, darkness in a yawn as his eyes drifted shut and then, finally, the mute arms of sleep embraced him.

“...chi...

...Akechi!”

The brunet in question woke up with a startled jump, the book on his lap falling with a heavy thud against the Common Room's parquet floor. He blinked the sleepiness off, rubbed his eyes and then smiled, plastic. A preloaded set-up.

“Ah, Makoto... Forgive me, History of Magic has never been my strongest subject.” He made a light joke out of his situation, the fire crackling behind them. The girl either paid it no mind or saw right through his bullshit, sitting by his side in the other lounge chair with her legs crossed. Away goes Work-Niijima, enter the stage School-Niijima, just as stubborn and workaholic as the first. Sometimes, he hated both.

“I don't blame you for it, but try not to sleep too much. We're prefects now, we have night rounds to do, remember?”

He grunted, obviously such a triviality had been pointedly forgotten, and Makoto smiled as she saw that she had guessed correctly. Akechi closed his eyes, so as not to make it too obvious he was pointedly rolling them, and settled the heavy book on the small coffee table between them. Count on their common room to have as many spots as possible for both reading and placing piles of books conveniently nearby. Still, there was something off about Makoto — an edginess that usually meant trouble.

“That's not why you woke me up...”

“True. She... isn't one. Hufflepuff Prefect, I mean. She must've argued against it with her father, o-or maybe the principal decided against it... Maybe Ms. Kawakami argued against– I... This makes no sense.” Makoto was rambling, arms crossed below her chest as she seemed absorbed by her own thoughts, before sighing in defeat. “We'll have to deal with Mishima and that strange Mifune instead.” Neither Ravenclaws were happy with that.

“Aw...”  Akechi's smile turned a tad sarcastic, as he leaned closer and added in a hushed tone, “Are you sad you won't get to flirt with your girlfriend in the dead of the night, Mako-chan?”

"Huh?!" Makoto's beet-red cheeks were enough of a yes to him.

A brand new year, yet the same old melodrama: Makoto's endless crush on Haru Okumura, the rich Hufflepuff princess with a heart of gold and everything sickeningly nice. It had started during their third year, coincidentally enough the year she and Akechi had grown closer, yet neither woman had bothered to make a move so far. Akechi hoped, for the sake of his only friendship in Ravenclaw and his own sanity, that this year would be different.

It had to.

She huffed at his grin, pointedly looking away, before relaxing against the chair. So that’s what the uneasiness had been about, Makoto had likely spent her whole summer plotting how this year would be different and she’d finally see her love come to fruition. Akechi couldn’t relate, but he’d try. She wanted to meet Okumura right? So where would the Daily Prophet reporter-to-be spend her days, other than gushing about Herbology?

“Niijima, honestly... She's just dying to be the school's most reliable source of information here. I'd say just keep your eye out for events, blackmail her, anything. Quidditch is a start.” Akechi voice softened as he picked up the boring book he'd been reading and flipped absent-mindedly through the pages, thousands and thousands of war illustrations flashing through, none of them phazing him. He’d have yet another long year ahead of him, but at least he had passed his O.W.L.s with good marks.

“I guessed as much. She started handing out some newspaper, I'm not sure how she's getting the permission to print them, but I'd guess it's because of Kitagawa. Here, I grabbed one for you too- and no blackmail.” She handed the young man the folded newspaper with a small chuckle, the pictures in the pages dancing of their own accord, framed between heavy chunks of text. There was another copy in Makoto's hand, her fingers curled tight around it like a precious treasure.

Said newspaper was amateurish, at best. The font was too artsy to be easily readable, and there wasn't a single headline interesting enough that might've been worth a read. Chunks of text filled the pages, terribly disorganized, yet the printing quality was surprisingly good, the ink shining through the parchment like it’d been straight out of the press. Akechi skimmed the page, not one to spend his hours marveling at the quality of ink unless he could deduce something out of it. His eyes came to an abrupt stop at one picture; Three youngsters with Gryffindor quidditch uniforms, smiling brightly at the camera. Above, the headline read “Gryffindor: Charm and Wins ahoy!”.

It made Akechi's stomach churn. The one in the middle of the photograph, with the captain's badge and the unruly dark hair, seemed to be mouthing 'steal your cup' behind a finger, all guts and no apologies. He had seen this smile for five years now, and yet he couldn’t look away.

Akechi gritted his teeth, crushed the paper into a ball and tossed it into the fire. Makoto’s complaints  fell on deaf ears.

Sometimes dreams, they came like a caress. Sometimes nightmares, they came like a knife. Akechi hated both equally. Not only the ones where his mother is cooking him homemade food with gusto and takes him into her loving arms, but also the ones where his father somehow succeeds in his plan, and Akechi finds himself staring down random people at the wrong end of a wand, their eyes rolled inward in madness and green mist around everything, curses upon curses weighing him down. On nights like those he would wake up with a scream, his covers soaked in sweat.

He would eventually carry himself down to the common room. Some nights, he would be lucky enough that Makoto had heard the scream and was waiting for him with tea stolen from the kitchen; Another excuse to wander close to Hufflepuff.

“Bad dreams again?”

He knew she cared a lot, but he hid behind a plastic smile and doe eyes anyway.

“Terrible ones. In this one, I kiss Kurusu. He tells me he loves me.” Akechi dodged the pillow Makoto threw his way with a small laugh.

Three years ago she had cornered him in Hogsmeade, inquisitive stare as she had whispered her curse: you love him, don’t you?, and then, after a beat, you’re just like me, then. Somehow, they had remained friends since.

“You’re unbearable! You don’t want to talk about the dream, fine... At least you’re smiling. Sister said you’ve been doing better. This is good.” She gave him a small nod, and some part of Akechi rejoiced at the praise, even if he tried not to show it too much. “I think you should stay with her, working... When all of this is over.” Her hands drew an arc on thin air, her violinist fingers gesturing at the whole of Hogwarts as if it was merely a passing thought.

He didn't reply that if Sae would have him, he would. He would. He would.

“You know... It's what I want to do, too. Like her and like father... I want to find my own path too, do the right thing. Haru thinks I should, as well.” Makoto drew her knees up then, lacing her arms tight around her legs, the pajama pants pooling against the blue carpet. “Do you think it's weird?”

“I think I'll have a lifetime of working with Niijimas then...” He tried to crack a joke, unable to deal with her seriousness, but it felt misplaced. He dropped the smile then, like it had never been there, and sighed. His expression felt heavier, head bowing down. “But... you will end up doing it anyway — you took the O.W.L.s for it too, didn't you? We were at the exact same classes.” His eyes didn’t meet hers as he looked her way and, for a moment, Makoto felt stupid for asking, so she simply nodded.

Silence fell between them again, only the crackling of the fire and small yawns echoing in the room. Sleep would find them sooner than later tonight, and before he made an embarrassing mess of himself by falling asleep on Makoto's shoulder, Akechi adjusted his pajamas, brushed his sweaty fringe out of his face and stood up.

He was halfway through the room, about to open the door back to the Men's Dorm before a cough caught his attention. "Akechi?" A queen, whipping the attention of her servant back to her. When he looked back at Makoto, her stare was defiant, challenging him to just try and say no at what she would say, see what could happen. He hated the Niijimas, he wasn't ready for a lifetime with them.

“Come with me to the game. Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor... It's this weekend.”

Quidditch. Fuck, he wanted to laugh hysterically and ask Niijima if she was mad. He wanted to tell her to die in a fire. He should tell her to man up and deal with nosy Haru-chan herself, that bitch, because nothing in his life– he'd rather go back to fun field trips with dementors before having to sit for ninety minutes watching Gryffindor Captain Akira Kurusu make a show of himself and that stupid, unbearable grin. He bit back his tongue and venom might as well have dripped from his lips.

“Sure,” he said with a polite and easy smile, “I'll be there with you, Niijima.”

“THE GAME IS ON FIRE TONIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! SAKAMOTO GOES FOR THE POINT, HE TOSSES, ABOVE ALL OF US, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL GOAL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! — OH NO, LADY ANN, NOT AS BEAUTIFUL AS YOU!”

The crowd roared as Ryuji scored a point, making a face and sticking his tongue out at the Ravenclaw goalkeeper like a hooligan. Takamaki, the blonde beauty, as the narrator yelled, was cheering loudly from the stands, wearing the quidditch uniform and a bandaged arm, Kurusu's strange cat was nestled inside her bag, only its head poking out. Makoto had mentioned something about a bludger dislocating Takamaki’s shoulder, so apparently she was benched for today's game, but Akechi couldn't be bothered to care.

His eyes wandered around the field, looking for a familiar mess of black curls, and soon enough, he found it. The seeker , of course he still was one, what a surprise. Kurusu seemed to be going at full speed for today's game despite the midday sun glaring down onto the field, its light catching on hundreds of shiny surfaces and reflecting into any unlucky player's eyes. It was no wonder he had had no success with finding the snitch yet. Still, the narrator cheered, and so did the crowd, yelling reveries at Kurusu while the Ravenclaw side cursed Ryuji's mom. Akechi never would understand these Quidditch things... The seeker dipped low then, as if he had caught something, only to lose it and go back to searching in the air. Akechi didn't have much sight from the stands, but sometimes it almost seemed like Kurusu was looking at the audience instead of the fields.

Their eyes didn't meet. The Gryffindor went back to his search.

Makoto tore Akechi’s gaze away by poking him forcefully in the side, and then smiled without a hint of patience as she said, “Haru-chan, this here is my friend, Akechi Goro.” Wait, Haru-chan ?

He nodded at her and shook her hand, smiling as if he hadn't spent his last summer chasing and arresting her father. Later, Makoto would ask him why he had looked so constipated.

“Okumura-san.”

“Hello, Akechi-san! It's my pleasure. A fierce game, isn't it?”

Whether she had made the obvious connection or not, Haru didn't let it show, instead going back to chat heatedly with Makoto about how she planned to write about today's game. Their topic switched to baseless gossip after a while, and Akechi felt himself losing interest. He turned to the field, clicked his tongue and pretended to be invested in the game instead.

Kurusu also seemed to stop drifting by, his knees loose against his Firebolt as he picked up speed. Akechi watched the seeker fly with intent, almost a pretense of having caught something, until a small glint of light flashed in the distance, and then Kurusu was off. Akechi’s eyes widened as the boy went from a baited flight to a sudden flash of red, it was suddenly plain to see how Gryffindor had archieved its unbelievable winning streak.

“LOOKS LIKE HE'S CAUGHT SOMETHING! IT’S A RACE TO THE SNITCH, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WILL RAVENCLAW MAKE IT? OR WILL GRYFFINDOR STEAL OUR HEARTS AGAIN WITH ANOTHER WIN? KURUSU GOOOOES FOR THE CHASE, WHERE IS YOUR SEEKER, RAVENCLAW?!”

Akechi had no idea who the Ravenclaw seeker was, but the blue-clad boy who was attempting to put up a fight with Akira clearly was no match. They circled the field like their own personal stage, and wherever Kurusu flew by, the crowd followed with their turned heads and loud cheer. He was fascinated by the sound, circling the stage along with the brooms, and when Kurusu dipped his broom into a drive, he made a mockery of the Ravenclaw behind him. It was such an obvious win that Akechi found himself rolling his eyes and blinking, Okumura and Makoto’s voices distracting him.

Makoto would likely be pissed that he had missed their entire conversation, but if he had to guess, it was likely about Okumura’s newspaper, yadda-yadda while Makoto smiled like a lovesick puppy next to her, with the journalist's camera in hand trying to capture the seeker's flight. He paid half-attention to them until he heard the crowd curse again, and Kurusu was no more. His eyes searched frantically across the field for the seekers, finding them just in time to spot the Gryffindor almost get knocked off his broom as the Ravenclaw seeker shouldered him.

His eyes narrowed.

Akira shrugged it off, but he would pick up speed again, he would be on the Ravenclaw’s tail sooner than a blink, Akechi knew it. He didn’t realise he was biting his lip. The snitch was a golden light, moments away from the Ravenclaw’s hand when Akira shouldered him again, his broom drawing an arc in the air as the snitch turned the opposite way. Kurusu cut to the chase again, his body leaning forward and his hair flying wildly, and everything else was left to the dust. It was really pitiable, the way the Ravenclaw seeker tried to catch up but always seemed a moment behind, losing by anticipation—

Time stopped as Akira grasped the snitch. He dodged the impact from the Ravenclaw seeker at the last moment as he raised his fist in the air, the tiny golden ball buzzing in his hand. Akira looked smug, Akechi could tell, because his lips had curled up in that grin again, the one always followed by a small laugh. He wasn't even – handn't even – realised that Kurusu was doing a little victory lap until he flew close by Akechi's spot in the stands, likely to mock the loser House.

Something strange happened that year. Akechi's eyes didn't leave Kurusu's mouth, wasn't even sure if he had been noticed or not, but the seeker seemed to be flying slowly then, floating in the air as he brought his hand down to his lips, kissed the soft shine of the snitch and muttered something — Akechi looked up then, searched for his eyes behind the thick-rimmed glasses to understand what sort of gesture that was, to kiss the victory gold, and then, his whole world froze.

Kurusu was winking at him.

The bells chimed and the students hurriedly snapped their books close. Ms. Kawakami grunted in frustration at her class as everyone suddenly seemed in a hurry to leave, random conversations and laughter becoming louder and louder until it drowned out the poor teacher's voice – if she had  decided to give them homework or remind them of anything, it was entirely lost to the empty classroom, some cauldrons left cleaner than others. No one liked having classes in a mouldy underground room, yet given how some materials were prone to rot just at a touch of light, there wasn't much left to do but endure: The heavy smells, the haze, the heat from the fire and worst of all, the other students.

Potions wasn't an entirely difficult class. In fact, Akechi found himself at a somewhat comfortable level. Sure, there were better students out there, brewing far more elaborate concoctions, but as far as his grades and exams were concerned, he was doing fine. Grades in Ravenclaw were always judged more harshly than the other Houses’, so an 'above average' there meant more than it would have in another. He yawned, closed his books and murmured a cleaning smell for the second time as he tapped his wand against the cauldron he had been using. The concoction gurgled and fizzled until it was gone, as if sucked into the metal, leaving not even a hint of odour behind. He was far better at spells, anyway.

His shoes clicked dully against the basalt floor as he left after everyone, bag slung over his shoulder and cape flowing with his hurried steps. As he passed by a corner, something grabbed him. He was dragged away from the passage, and found himself forcefully shoved against a wall.

Akechi's wand was pointed at his attacker’s throat in a blink.

“Woah, so dangerous! Chill, Akechi, I'm not going to murder you...” He knew the soft voice well enough, but more than that, he knew that laughter. Akechi squirmed out of the other's grasp, mostly because Kurusu let him, until they were face to face.

“Care to explain what's the need to corner me in the dungeons, Kurusu?” He recomposed himself as much as he could, and hoped the other hadn't seen him in a panic, ready to spit the first offensive spell that came to his mind. He had taught himself under Sae’s mentorship to think fast on the basic, simple ones , not the curses. Not the curses. “I do have classes... And I'm hardly one of your friends.”

Of course Kurusu would laugh at him, it was all he ever did, but something was off. He wasn't prepared for the other to soften his voice after, with a small smile on his lips and some... shyness? He hadn’t seen that side of Kurusu since their fourth year.

“You finally came to my game... Sure, it took you a while to accept my offer, but you were there. I saw.” I winked.

Akechi stuttered, unsure why he felt his face heat up. Kurusu's smile looked almost charming now, he could see why the girls fell so easily for him. He thought he had been over it, himself.

“You invited me on our third year, it doesn't count. I was there for a friend, she...” No, better not to mention Niijima. “Nevermind. Congratulations on your win, now I must–”

“Oh, no- Not so fast.” Kurusu gripped his wrist then, the bandaged one, licking his lips in hesitance. Akira had this terrible habit, Akechi noted, that whenever he wanted to reach out he'd touch Akechi's wrist, as if he could magically erase the scars underneath. He hated the pity. “Does that mean you'll come to my games now if I invite you?”

“Hardly.” Akechi's voice was dry, humourless, but his face still felt hot.

“You should.” Kurusu smirked then, his steps were light as he cornered Akechi once again, circling his prey. “I'll be sure to win, just for you. I can make it a habit.” The flashback of Kurusu kissing the snitch hit the Ravenclaw like a sucker punch, his lips barely parted as they pressed against the gold. He  hadn’t been sure then if he wanted whatever promise came from Akira's mouth, but now, cornered against a wall... Akechi knew the other had always come off a bit too strong, too invasive, but clearly, the sixth year and the pressure of their upcoming graduation had shifted the balance of their strange relationship.

Akechi tensed, feeling trapped even though their bodies still held some distance. Kurusu had finally looked into his eyes, but the brunet refused to show anything other than sharp edges. He tilted his chin up, his stare cold as he pretended Kurusu’s eyes hadn’t slipped down for a moment. My eyes are up here.

“Oh? I... you’re a lot more pleasant when you’re not showing off, Kurusu.” He smiled, voice strained, before the act faded under the pressure. Then he was pushing the Gryffindor boy away, a new, rushed spring in his step.

Akira followed close behind.

“My next game is in three weeks, Akechi! Gryffindor and Slytherin, you don’t wanna miss it!” Akira shouted after him, “Three weeks, not three years!”

Insufferable brat.

Surprisingly enough, sixth year students were allowed, or rather, encouraged to go to Hogsmeade during short holidays. The news came as a letter from the principal, mass sent to all students with the same handwritten calligraphy, informing them that third-year students needed permission from their guardians while the older ones merely had to put their name on the train list. Hogsmeade had always been a welcome break, with its happy smells of butter beer and hot chocolate, eager laughter and a bar that Akechi would walk in not because there was a criminal to catch, but simply for the joy of it.

Hogsmeade was the closest thing he had to a place where he could wander around and do things out of sheer want.

“Are you going? I’m a bit behind in my studies, so maybe I’ll stay...” Makoto folded her copy of the letter and slipped it under her plate, reaching out to grab one more of the pastries served. Her fingers reached out for the pumpkin sweets, but instead, she picked another muffin. “But if you want to, I’ll go.”

“Fun is important, Niijima.” Akechi didn’t seem to be fully awake yet, the dark circles under his eyes a bit thicker this morning. Makoto observed him cut bread into more slices than necessary, the knife dragging lazily back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t yawn, but kept his lips in a thin line as he applied more jam than necessary over that poor, mutilated bread.

“Says you, Mr. My-fun-weekend-is-auror-work. You’re worse than my sister.” Ouch. Was he becoming another Sae Niijima? “I think... I’ll ask Haru for it, to come with me-” She paused, then gave him one of those terrible pitiful half-smiles. Makoto was a mom and she hadn’t even had children. “Pardon, come with us .”

“I’d rather not bother either of you.” Akechi declined, overly polite. “But I’ll go. I miss the pancakes and that coffee they serve...” He trailed off, biting into his meal and then sipping at the... juice-thing Hogwarts was serving that morning. He already hated juices in general, but today’s strange green concoction tasted close enough to death. “I’m happy for you two.” It sounded empty.

Makoto, strangely enough, wasn’t being effusive about Haru out-loud. Akechi wasn’t sure whether it was because he hadn’t slept enough, or perhaps, it was because Kitagawa had decided to open the curtains, going full wax lyrical about the moon and effectively killing the last of Akechi’s hopes of getting any sleep. He felt tired, overworked in-between patrols, homework, exams, the occasional help Sae asked via cryptic letters, and the need to succeed brilliantly at all of the above. His eyes wandered around without focus, while Makoto looked distracted enough with her muffins and the coffee she drank in gulps (Okumura’s favour, certainly) to pay him any mind. He couldn’t be bothered to wonder why she wasn’t gushing about Okumura — it was logical, wasn’t it?

The sudden silence felt strange between them and Makoto might’ve noticed that too, because she crossed her arms after a discreet cough, and tilted her head to look pointedly into Akechi’s eyes. Ah, there she was, detective Nijima, yet another facet of hers.

“You know... I heard something funny the other day.” She spoke slowly, trying to sound careless, and he just knew she was onto something. “Apparently everyone is talking about what’s with Kurusu’s new thing, kissing the snitch. He did it again. Haru says she might write about it.”

Fuck.

“Ah....” Akechi laughed awkwardly as he reached out for his glass, gulping the green juice down. Suddenly, he loved Hogwarts’ cuisine.

“And you were in his last game too. Are you suddenly a fan of Quidditch?”

“Ah- hah...? Very funny?” There wasn’t any more juice left to gulp down, so Akechi placed his glass down, resigning himself to laugh without much humour. He reached for a napkin, covering half his face as he tried to grasp at his shattered composure. Makoto was still looking pointedly at him, the obvious conclusion hanging thick in the air around them. He hated the Niijima sisters. “I assure you, it’s nothing–”

“Don’t.” The girl sighed, tired of his antics and the penchant for drama, before a smug smile graced her features again. She pressed on, “Are you really going to Hogsmeade alone? I mean, last thing I knew, you weren’t exactly willing to acknowledge your obvious crush, despite that kiss, and now–”

“We’re not having this conversation.” Akechi cut her fast, his eyes open too wide, brows furrowed. He wasn’t even looking at her. She followed his line of gaze to the Gryffindor table, where Ryuji seemed to be juggling apples while the blonde girl, Ann, yelled at him. Sitting across from the duo was Akira Kurusu, looking sleepy himself and not entirely there, but with a clear view to Akechi’s spot in the Ravenclaw table. Oh .

Akechi collected his stuff and walked away  before she could confront him about it.

She grunted in frustration, and admittedly had half a mind to go talk to Haru about it, but something stopped her first. She looked back at the Gryffindor table and saw Akira muttering something to his friends, then excusing himself as he too left the dining hall, but in large, confident strides.

“There you are.” A sweet voice spoke, caramel like the intruder’s hair. It was Akechi again, because somehow, it was always him.

Akira looked up sheepishly from his spot on the herbology greenhouse floor, as he desperately tried to clean, with his hands, the broken vase and the soil that was spilled everywhere along with plant, roots and seeds. When he saw the other boy however, all prim and posh in his prussian blue robes, his smirk turned into something smug.

“Allow me, Kurusu...” Akechi rolled his eyes, pulling his wand almost out of thin air and then, with a practised wave and a hummed spell, the spilled soil moved back into a bag, the broken vase flew to the trash, and the plant, along with its seeds, now rested gently on the wooden table in front of the other. When all was set back in its place, the boy pulled himself a chair, slipping his wand back into his pocket.

“I could’ve done that!” Akira sounded almost hurt, snapping his gloves off and then, with a swift gesture, hopped onto the table, sitting in front of Akechi. His long legs were dangling around loosely, almost too close, as he leaned his upper body forward. “Am I going to get detention for that broken vase, Mister Prefect ?” The gleam on the boy’s eyes almost hinted at a challenge. Come get me.

“I’m not here for broken vases.” Akechi almost seemed genuinely cheerful. Kurusu could almost believe him, smiling like that.

It had been Akira’s third year when he first met the other boy, a strange Ravenclaw beauty who carried a crow instead of an owl and seemed to have just landed in Hogwarts, sobbing against the arms of a tall, silver-haired, strange woman. He didn’t remember her, but he remembered the scene he spied from behind the door. The principal had placed the Selecting Hat on top of caramel, dirty hair, and the moment seemed to last forever until, to his sadness, the Hat yelled “RAVENCLAW!”.

It had also been during his third year that he, unable to hold anything more than short and dull conversations with the ever-so-frightened kid, yelled, perhaps too eagerly, “I’m Gryffindor’s seeker now! Come to my game!”. Akechi had shrugged, expression empty as he simply said “Okay,” and never showed up.

Fourth year rolled by and with it, the almost hopes of a date. Akechi kept running away from him, but Akira had been sure that, then, he’d finally get something more out of the boy than no after no. They had been studying late into the night at the library when, somehow, a conversation had started — Goro was pleasant to the eyes, sure, but he was also pleasant to the ears and Akira felt charmed enough to lean in, steal a kiss by the candlelights. He thought it had been romantic. Akechi didn’t.

“This is disgusting!” He had spat in anger like Kurusu had never seen before.

They had crossed paths in the corridor the next day, Ryuji yelling threats and curses at the Ravenclaw who all but listened, a sinister laugh at each snark. Whatever Akechi had replied had only seemed to infuriate the blond more. Akira had a mind to stop Ryuji until Akechi directed himself at him. “I’m not the one with the obvious crush here... It’s so pathetic.” It spilled like poison from Akechi’s lips. Ryuji hurled himself at Akechi’s neck, an angry dog set loose. Akira simply shook his head, stopping the obvious fight as rejection gnawed at his heart. He hoped Akechi mistook hurt pride for pity. Ryuji coiled back and both heard Akechi run as soon as they walked away.

“Kurusu...Are you listening?”

Fifth year rolled by and if Akechi had attended Hogwarts, Akira would have called it a lie. He hadn’t bothered to look around much, and according to Makoto back then, the boy didn’t leave the common room much except for classes and renting the occasional book in the library. One night, while he and the others had been messing around in the gardens, he’d seen, almost like a vision or a death sentence, a crow pinned to the Whomping Willow by an arrow. He’d only seen one crow before, yet it didn’t help shit knowing who it belonged to.

He had watched the tree trash about, until the crow was little more than ripped flesh and crushed bones.

“Kurusu.” Akechi was standing in front of him now, gripping at his chin tightly, demanding attention. It would leave bruises, Akechi always left bruises, but he seemed different. He didn’t look cornered, or frightened, just tired. Akira decided to consider that this too, was progress.

“Yeah, I’m listening. Ouch, honey ... I didn’t know you were into bruises!” He fell from a pouty tone into laughter, unable to take any of this seriously. In a different reality he’d be kissing Akechi blind while the mandrakes muffled their moans, and loving the other wouldn’t be so frustrating every time, like trying to capture a heart in the middle of a landmine, but alas, this was the reality he had to conform to. Anger and bitterness.

“Focus.” Yet, even in this reality, Akechi blushed. Ten points for Gryffindor . “You’re the Quidditch captain of your team, please inform them that your Hogsmeade transport will arrive after the training with Ravenclaw. Our captain hasn’t seen you around, so he asked that me or Niijima deliver the message. Did you hear that?” He let Akira’s chin go, as if he had forgotten about his hand there, gripping at him.

“Yeah. Train departs after practice, I’ll tell the guys. What about you, Akechi? Will you save me a beer at the Three Broomsticks? I like mine with extra butter.” He dragged on the final words, licking his lips more out of  teasing than anything. He honestly liked it, seeing how far he could push Akechi until the other yielded, how far they could go in this strange game. Hazel eyes followed his tongue, and at that, he gained confidence, adjusting his legs and spreading them until Akechi was standing between his knees. Akira felt luckier the more composure Akechi lost.

“Sure. I’ll pick a table for two, then.” Akechi had a small, polite smile on his face, his eyes still hanging on Akira’s lips.

It felt a lot like Akira had just hit the lotto. Lose a battle, win the war. Yet, Akechi leaned in, and added as softly as Akira liked, “they have a butterbeer that’s just to die for. I hope you choke on it.”

“Apparently, we are having this conversation then...”

“I’m all ears.”

Makoto snapped her book close, placing it on the pile next to her. They were back to their most comfortable spot, sitting by the fire late at night, alone in the common room while everyone was asleep. Akechi himself wasn’t sure why, but Makoto and her poetry books probably did. They certainly had something about how every secret came out easily at night, only to be forgotten by the light of the sun. She was wearing new pajamas this time, probably a gift from her family, which made Akechi suddenly conscious of his old pair of buttoned shirt and striped pants.

He reached over for his wand, always close by, and simply twirled it as he tried to grasp at words to say. The past months had been strange, tiptoeing the line between friend and rival with Kurusu like an overly-complicated waltz. He didn’t want to admit he had found out that it was entirely possible to hate someone and desire them, at the same time. He didn’t want to admit that maybe, he didn’t even hate the other at all.

He didn’t want to go into how much he wanted to be loved back.

“Well...?” Makoto gave him a cue, voice kind yet firm. She probably had left her wand upstairs. Not that he was doing much with his, other than small shapes out of leftover magic, animals dissolving into dust. She watched his precise, controlled movements. Something about his magic was always fascinating to her: controlled, overly-practised. Yet, unhinged too, like pools of oil and fire just before the inevitable explosion.

He dismissed the magic with a wave. Then, he lowered his arm into his lap and the wand rolled out of his fingers as if of its own accord. It fell mutedly on the thick blue rug where he was seated, between the patterned stars. Akechi had half a mind to simply leave it there, before pocketing it gently.   

 “He cornered me last month after his game. The one we went to. Asked me to go to another one. I did. Now he chases me after classes... apparently we’re working together in the classes you and I don’t share, and last week he slipped me a note to ‘come find him’. Herbology greenhouse, in the back.” The spot people use to make out, Makoto, maybe your girlfriend told you that.

He regretted saying that last sentence, because her suddenly concerned frown told him that maybe, she actually knew.

“Did you two...? This has been going for a month now and you didn’t bother telling me.”

“N-no! Fuck, Niijima!” Akechi stuttered, before hiding his face in his arms, knees pulled up. His voice came out muffled as he added, “He invited me to Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks. I told him to choke on his beer.” When he raised his head again, he had his trademark smile on his lips, with just a tad more red in the face. “So no, Niijima, I am not doing anything with that Gryffindor gutter trash.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Makoto jumped to her feet, her voice coming out loud, angry. Akechi knew he had crossed a line, but that’s what he was just excellent at, wasn’t it? He refused to look at her, focusing instead on the way the flames danced and the wood crisped, burning. “You haven’t even told me you two were suddenly close again, when I’ve been telling you everything about Haru and me! And I– You don’t just threaten to poison people, Akechi! Not even as a joke!” Her footsteps echoed over the starry blue rug, she was stomping. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

He couldn’t.

“Akechi... look at me, please?”

Akechi wasn’t sure which he hated most, Makoto baring her fangs and spitting fire, bloody knuckles after a fight, or this condescending forced politeness, the desaturated disappointment. He stood up slowly, as if he might suddenly crumble. He ran his fingers over the furniture in front of him, the frame around the fireplace. His nails sunk in and he breathed slowly, in and out. Finally, he turned around to face Makoto, crossing his arms and leaning too casually against the wall to seem real, as if he had rehearsed that carelessness many times.

“Do you really think he likes me, Niijima?” He spat, speaking too quickly and with a certain heat to his words before holding back entirely, biting his lower lip. He was spilling at the seams, but this wasn’t the right place to do it, this wasn’t the right time, and Makoto wasn’t the right person. “Sure, whatever me and Kurusu are sharing right now... whatever it is, it can’t possibly be serious. We’re teenagers, after all.” He chuckled then, pulling himself away from the wall before slowly walking up to her. He kept his hands to himself.

“You two have been waltzing around each other for years now! You mock me and Haru-chan, but I’ve seen you two... And last year he wouldn’t stop asking about you. He was apologising.” Makoto wasn’t buying his act, then. He’d have to try something else. She looked down at his hands, her arms still crossed. She took a step back. “You need to stop pushing away everyone who cares, you know. It’s tiresome.”

“I’m certain he isn’t tired! Niijima, he is a self-righteous bastard, a show-off who needs someone not easily impressionable for his audience. I... I fell for that, but this... this is just fun. Kurusu doesn’t do relationships, not with me.” Akechi laughed almost bitterly then, dismissing her words as he ran his fingers over his hair.

Makoto looked at him strangely in response, like he had gotten an easy question wrong on a test.

“I think you should drop the act. The walls. The drama. Get yourself out of your own head, for once. Actually... I don’t think you entirely hate him, not as much as you insist. And I don’t think he hates you either. Kurusu isn’t cruel.” She said, and just as her lips parted in afterthought, she paused. She shook her head, and turned away from him. “I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow for the night rounds.”

It was the last thing he heard before she closed the door a bit too hard on him.

Akechi didn’t try to reply. Her words kept running over in his head like a broken record through the whole following week.

What was he supposed to do, anyway? Declare himself to Akira, perhaps lay him down in a bed of flowers as they kissed? Maybe die in a river, pockets full of stones and a love letter on the shore? No, Akir- Kurusu wasn’t that guy. He’d probably laugh at the flowers, kiss him again for the hell of it and walk away with another heart stolen, his newest pride and joy until something brighter and newer came along. Perhaps he should put an end to this mess instead, once and for all. It had been lasting too long, it was too much.

Akechi wasn’t paying attention to a single one of his classes that day. His thoughts were all over the place and yet, the eye of the hurricane was one unruly mess of black hair and a charming, debonair grin.

The teacher was rambling something about star-crossed lovers, something ancient about long-forgotten gods. Apparently, once the maiden had seen the true nature of her lover, she had fled in fear, their love forever cursed. Akechi chuckled dryly at that, missing the rest of the explanation. True nature... Would Akira like his? That was such bullshit. Akira didn’t want open honesty, he wanted stolen kisses in libraries and butterbeer. Secret lovers, sweet affections you just don’t admit to liking in public.

Akechi ran his thumb over his own lip, letting his mind wander now that Makoto had sat far away from him. Class was utterly boring, especially from the back seats. His eyes fluttered close and then his fingers became Akira’s, moving from his lips to his chin. His hand paused, Akechi hiding his mouth behind his palm, looking utterly bored as he continued, wrapped in his own thoughts. Akira would pull his chin up for a kiss, hold him like something golden, but their kiss was far from sweet. He wondered now that they were older, if Akira were to kiss him again, if he’d add feelings, or tongue. Or both.

Akechi snorted, opening his eyes as he pulled the Charms’ book closer and flipped through the pages absent-mindedly. His hand shifted from covering his mouth to his forehead, his fringe working its purpose of covering his eyes. He couldn’t believe he had been daydreaming about Kurusu, and calling him Akira, on top of that.

He thought back to Makoto, saying they had been circling around each other and never making a move. Things weren’t sweet, not like her own affairs. This strange crap he’d gotten into with Kurusu was messy, convulsed, and he honestly just wanted something to happen at this point. Maybe a punch to the face. Kurusu was an enigma, a code he hadn’t been able to crack, no matter his job skills. He could split his beautiful head open, uncork his living brain and let his fingers wander over the bones, poke at the flesh and chances are, he’d find nothing. Akira might as well be empty on the inside, for all Akechi cared. No blood and no flesh, just a cage of bones.

Akechi sighed. He’d still kiss him. Maybe it’d taste like being wanted.

His fingers let go of the book cover, letting it snap shut. This didn’t need an end, it needed a beginning. If Kurusu was challenging him, maybe he should answer accordingly.

Apologising to Makoto had felt wrong. He did it anyway, lowering his head and pride for the sake of keeping their friendship steady. She nodded, forgiving him, and things ended there, just in time for yet another busy night of wandering the hallways and chasing after bored rogue students.

He hated night rounds. Mostly, the nights were dull, quiet, and eventually they would bump into the annoying Hufflepuff pair. Prefects weren’t required to patrol the whole castle, just the areas near the dorms, and so they took turns — Gryffindor and Slytherin patrolled on even days, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff took the odd ones. Akechi wasn’t concerned about whoever the Gryffindor and Slytherin prefects were, as none of them were Kurusu or his friends. The names of the Hufflepuff’s couple, at least, he politely knew, yet even bumping into them occasionally was terribly unsettling. Mishima was annoying, gagging for attention and fame like a thirsty dog, itching for compliments delivered backhanded or not. Mifune, however, was even worse, what with her passion for Divination and the strange deck of cards always spilling from her pockets. She never talked straight, and always had something to say about Akechi being too friendly with Death. He hated how she thought she could invade his privacy so freely.

He and Makoto usually split paths, meeting in the middle but always keeping close. There were few moments they were truly alone, a direct recommendation from the principal, but work usually clicked better when they both had some moments to themselves. Still, Akechi and Makoto, both Sae’s pupils in a sense, would share signals, hide in the shadows, treat the nights as some Hit Wizard mission if only to make things more interesting. No one understood why, and no one had to.

He was patrolling one of the empty corridors by himself now, a wide hall with centuries-old armors placed sparingly along it, the persian-blue and silver banners stretched above them. The castle was dimly lit at night, and even the large windows and moonlight filtering through weren’t much. Akechi murmured Lumus , twitched his wand, and just as the hall became a bit more lit, he caught sight of a moving shadow, stealthily hiding behind an armor.

Huh, not a common night then.

Sae’s words about her Auror training, disguise and stealth, echoed in his mind. Akechi lowered his wand, walking a bit more slowly as he twitched the lumus incantation into a small, floating ball of light. He sent it flying along the hall then, something close enough to a doppleganger patrolling the halls in the darkness that surrounded him and the rogue shadow both. He walked towards the shadows until he was glued to the wall, light on his foot and certain that the small light was a proper distraction. It seemed to work, because just as the light passed by them in the opposite direction, he cornered the shadow.

It was a student, a bit shorter than him with unruly dark hair. He seemed ready to make a dash for it as apparently, prefect Akechi moved away completely unaware. Akechi grinned, silently thanking Sae for her training. He grabbed the student, stopping him in his tracks like a criminal, his gloved hand over the rogue’s mouth and a tight grip on his arm just before the other made his run. They didn’t tumble, Akechi’s grip was strong.

“You’re not the only one who can corner people in halls, Kurusu.” Or at least, he guessed it was him. The smile he felt against his palm confirmed it. They pulled back, and Kurusu was laughing as he raised his hands up, above his head. The wandering light flew back to the tip of Akechi’s wand, illuminating Kurusu’s familiar face.

“Your trick fooled me.” He commented casually, clearly having fun at being caught.

“Not that I should be surprised at your delinquent antics, Kurusu, but... What are you doing here?” Akechi hummed, dismissing the Lumus incantation under his breath. It would take too long to dismiss one charm and then cast another should Kurusu draw him into a fight. Not that it would be the case, but one thing Aurors were excellent at teaching was to always be on your guard.

“Ryuji is a werewolf. He needs friends at night and I must go.” Kurusu almost pouted, but kept his tone oddly serious, a terrible provocation. Akechi looked through the window, at the crescent moon not offering much light as it shone through, a beautiful sight nonetheless. He chuckled, and shook his head. As if their school would allow a werewolf in its student body without a single hint of supervision.

“Very funny.” Akechi noted, offering a humourless smile. “Kurusu, honestly, if you wanted to get caught by me so badly, you could have just called. I’m sure you dodged Makoto walking the South Wing on your way here...” Actually, he had to wonder how Kurusu had escaped Makoto so easily, of all people. Maybe Kurusu was that good at stealth, and had just let himself be caught by Akechi instead.

“I had no idea, really, Akechi...” He shrugged pointedly, his arms dropping down with some grace before he was pacing forward, always moving close. “You caught me. Do I get a detention now?”

Kurusu liked mentioning detentions a lot, didn’t he? He ought to tell him the joke hadn’t been funny the first time. Still, the implications of it... He didn’t want to be left alone in a room with Akira Kurusu, of all people. They’d jump at each other’s throats like dogs and Akechi wasn’t sure he wanted his life to have a body count.

“Try harder next time. Listen, I’ll let you off the hook this time, but you’ll accompany me back to the Gryffindor dormitory now, won’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

“Oh, you prefer my bed? I was really just dying to know.” Kurusu was awfully close by now, just a breath away, his charming grin wide now. He had his hands in his pockets, casual, while Akechi still wielded his wand like a weapon — he wasn’t even against a wall this time, and already feeling cornered in their shared personal space. “I guess I should go back to calling you Goro, then, if we’re moving that–”

The Gryffindor cut himself abruptly then, face serious. Akechi was about to ask what, when the sound repeated. Footsteps, distantly, but coming their way.

Akechi didn’t bother complaining as Kurusu grabbed him by the hand, guiding him away. Right, there was a broom closet three windows down, maybe they’d be lucky enough it would fit two. They moved fast then, before the Caretaker and his godforsaken hounds could see anything, from shadow to shadow until Kurusu was lockpicking the closet, cursing as the lock finally budged. There wasn’t time to check if it was empty or not, the Caretaker’s lantern already lighting up the beginning of the hall, so Kurusu just pushed Akechi inside, the door clicking softly behind them.

They remained in utter silence, unmoving. It felt like hours passed until there was no light coming from the hallway outside anymore.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Akira’s voice broke the silence, a sound indicating he had bumped into something before Akechi felt a hand at his shoulder, first a light touch and then a grip.

“He might be back soon... And yes, Kurusu, I’m still right here.” He hissed, shrugging his shoulder to push the other’s hand away. It didn’t work.

“Akira.”

“What?”

“You should use Akira, I mean... we were on a first name basis a while back, remember? So, Akira and Goro.” He could hear the smile on Kurusu’s voice as he remembered a brighter fourth year, their rushed talks in the library where no one would see them and Akechi allowed himself to just like the boy, be there for him. “You do remember that, right?” Akira’s thumb started drawing small circles over his shoulder, and for a moment, he felt at ease.

“Kurusu , be quiet.” He tried to focus on the footsteps outside, but the Caretaker seemed far away. He couldn’t hear a thing. It was also a way not to think on how utterly crushed he felt, back crammed against wood, and the heat from Kurusu’s body entirely too close. He could hear the other’s breath in the dark, the occasional wet click as what he guessed was the other licking at his own lips. When he tried to move his legs, his knees bumped against the other’s. “We’re hiding, and the last thing I want is a suspension...”

He had lowered his voice down to almost a whisper, maybe that’s why he felt Akira’s breathing closer.

“You don’t remember then.” Was that surprise? Akira hummed at something, and his laughter after sure was merrier, but also subdued. Akechi wasn’t deaf, the chagrin just wasn’t there . “C’mon, Goro, work with me here.” The hand at his shoulder patted downwards, lingered, and then was gone.

“Kurusu, there’s nothing to work with, here.” His tone was heated, as Akechi sighed pointedly, adjusting himself in the cramped space. He shifted his legs again, cursing as his thigh brushed against Akira’s again, their knees bumping awkwardly against each other. The other boy’s body felt warm, it was inviting and dizzying. He thought he could smell something like a cologne coming from the other — a different, sweeter smell than his. Not being able to see made him hyper aware of his other senses. He could hear Akira’s soft breaths, his movements, and every minimal touch counted.

He felt overloaded.

“Kurusu... please, let me out. I’m sure we’re safe now.”

“Oh, right. Let me–” Akira hummed then, placing his hand right next to Akechi’s head as he shifted. He tumbled close then, holding himself back at the last second, and his other hand landed on Akechi’s ribs. Akechi reacted quickly, both his hands moving up to stop the other, palms flat over the other’s chest. Akira muttered an apology, the loudest thing in this utter quietness, and adjusted his grip, his fingers just ghosting over linen shirt, over bony hips. “Wait, I think I hear something.”

A staccato, but the sound wasn’t steps. It sounded like drops of water, maybe it had started to rain.

It didn’t matter in the dark, but Akechi closed his eyes. He felt his heart beat faster, as his breathing was coming out in huffed sighs, almost stressed and under pressure. There was something else, too, about Akira’s fingers ghosting over his shirt; it was such a promising thing, the loving affection. Akira was usually an arrogant bastard, all cheeky grins and witty innuendos, but this... This he could get used to. Akechi’s fingers almost seemed to move of their own accord, curling around the soft fabric of the Gryffindor uniform, then relaxing.

He dropped his hands down, let his arms relax, and at that, Akira gave out a disappointed groan.

“I’m sorry, he’s gone.” The dingy closet door creaked next to them as it opened, the light from the hall illuminating Akira’s long fingers. He gestured Akechi out, something like sadness to his expression, before the glasses reflected the light and he was unreadable again. Akechi gulped dryly, his eyes scrutinizing every detail of the other’s face for a hint, any proof that the small moment of intimacy they had shared had been real. “It’s... you can go..?” There was hesitance in his voice, nothing like their fourth year, as Akira had called him Goro and kissed him with no fear of being rejected.

Akechi’s eyes widened as something in his mind clicked.

“Akira.” He almost chuckled at how fast Akira’s attention snapped back at him. “I...” From the corner of his eyes, he saw fingers curling over the closet’s handle, white knuckles as he seemed to be gripping hard over the door. Like a dance, Akechi straightened himself, his eyes wandering over the other’s lips before their eyes met. “I didn’t mean to call that kiss disgusting... It was nice. I liked it a lot.” The words spilled over his mouth before he could regret them, before he could swallow everything back.

The smile Akira gave him was just the brightest thing, like he had caught a particularly dodgy snitch, won a particularly hard match. He raised his eyebrows and leaned pointedly in again, his hand leaving the wall to cup at Akechi’s cheeks. His fingers felt soft this time, the calloused palm, and Akechi couldn’t help but snicker as he pressed his face against them.

Akechi placed his fingers over Akira’s as he pulled the door close again, leaning in so their mouths almost touched, breathing quick and anxiously as he waited for the kiss he was giving permission for.

Akira didn’t need to be told twice.

Calloused hands cupped at the Ravenclaw’s face as he brought his body fully against the other, moving his lips a bit more intently than he should. His fingers tangled over soft caramel hair, brushing loose strands away that he had almost kissed too. They laughed quickly in-between. His hands curled over Akechi’s hips, fitting there perfectly as their bodies and mouths molded together in the heat.

Akechi closed his eyes almost against his will, because the truth was, he wanted to see every detail possibly now, but the feelings were stronger, narrowing all of his attention into one thing. He hissed when his elbows bumped against cold wood as he wrapped them a bit loosely over Akira’s shoulders, sighing as he ran his fingers over the ebony curls he had been eyeing for years now. It felt softer than what his imagination had promised, loose strands getting caught in the caresses. They would stop, linger close and share breaths before the kiss started again, lips lazily dragging together. Then again, with more intent.

It was Akira who pulled back, only to bury his head in Akechi’s neck. He muttered something inaudible as his tongue caught a bit of hair, and then nipped at the skin, biting down. Akechi felt his body tense, his heart beating heavily against his chest as his head lolled to the side. Akira’s cologne smelled intoxicating now — maybe that smell was done for him, forever associated with heated kisses in the dark, the small pain as a hickey bloomed on his throat. How very teenager-like of him.

“Wait, I-” The brunet hummed, a bit out of place as he tugged his sweetheart away, hearing a minimal whine in reply. The small sound turned into a laugh as he tilted Akira’s neck up, decided to return the favour, even if he didn’t know how. His teeth were too light, his lips moving messily before they seemed to find somewhat of a rhythm.

Akira shrugged him off, pecking his lips with a pointed grin.

“Oh no... no, I did not wait years for you to bone me in a broom closet, Goro.” His laughter echoed in the dark, sweet and loud as if there was nothing to hide. Akechi felt the other’s body squirm against his for a moment before something was pressed pointedly against his hand — a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” He crushed the small ripped parchment in his palm then pocketed it for later, the door next to them opening wide with a lousy creek. Papers handed in the dark usually meant targets, encrypted secrets to be burned after reading. Papers were definitely danger. He couldn’t possibly guess why would Akira–

“You’re awfully new at this, aren’t you? It’s a Hogsmeade address, Goro. Meet me there.” Akira’s cheeks were red, his lips parted and rosy, glasses askew. Akechi wasn’t sure how he had managed that, but knew he wanted to treasure this moment, burn it into his mind. He’d bring it up every time he would have to cast a Patronus from now on.

“Huh? Fine, Akira...” Akira . The name still burned on his tongue, like something he wasn’t supposed to say, so he clicked his tongue in simple dismissal instead. “Now please, I need to go back to Niijima before she notices anything.”

He stepped out of their hiding spot first, then held the door open for Akira. A cool breeze whooshed by, a welcome contrast to the burning, cramped heat. Both boys looked at each other for a moment before they fixed their ties, brushed away the crumples in their shirts, and tried to look pointedly more composed than they were.

“I think she already did.” Akira kicked the door close behind him, trying to fix his own hair before giving up on the task completely, pulling his glasses up after. He shook his head in dismissal at Akechi’s words, instead stealing a quick kiss in the middle of the empty hall, nipping at the other’s lips at the end. A promise.

Before Akechi could react, the thief winked and walked away, suddenly gone.

Akechi hated many things, but mainly, he hated how utterly smug Makoto Niijima was acting right now.

“What?” He snapped the book close, already feeling a small headache in anticipation. It was sunny today, and he had found his perfect spot for reading, under the trees, vacant. Of course, his peace ended as soon as Makoto spotted him. He saw her wave at Haru, saw the girls exchange cheek kisses before each took her own direction. Now, she was sitting next to him, bare legs stretched comfortably over the grass.

Makoto just smiled and looked pointedly at his neck, raising her eyebrows in question.

“What...?” He blinked, confused for a moment before the obvious came up to him, the purple blotch she was likely staring at. Akira’s fault, although he would cherish the memory — not that Makoto needed to know that. “Ah. That.” He sighed, shaking his head at how she perked up, interested.

“That.” She echoed, crossing her arms. Whenever Makoto wanted to look pointedly smug, she’d do exactly the following: cross her arms, puff her chest and bring her shoulders a bit up. Her eyes would always narrow, like she needed to express how cunning she was, and maybe that worked for Sae, but Akechi wasn’t buying into the ‘look at me, I’m cute and smart’ act.

She wanted to know, so he leaned in and whispered the truth, word by word. A small smile played at his lips as he gossiped that he and his new sweetheart, Akira Kurusu, had been kissing at night, yes, that one night he’d told her he had just... wandered off and got lost. He searched for her eyes then, hoping that somehow his confession had caught her off-guard, searched for a surprised expression.

“I knew it.” It wasn’t there. Akechi clicked his tongue in frustration and leaned against the tree, before Makoto hummed next to him. “Haru owes me a Galleon. She was betting on that Slytherin boy who sometimes looks your way.” He couldn’t remember who she had been talking about, so instead, he shrugged, placing his book aside to make more room for her.

“Are you perhaps betting on my life now, Niijima?” Akechi’s tone wasn’t hard, or frustrated. Instead, he sounded fairly amused — not the false sing-song he used for most people, but something oddly natural. He meant it as a jab, the irony of them both picking up random habits from Sae not lost on either of them.

Maybe, Makoto thought, Akira had some tricks up his sleeve.

“It’s a bonding activity, when you don’t over-do it like sister does...” She brushed him off, looking away for a moment to hide her embarrassment. She had always chided Sae on her gambling habits. “Are you two a thing now?”

Akechi shrugged, his smile turning into a clueless expression for once.

“I don’t know... I don’t think that is us, as I said. And I haven’t told him about my mom in St. Mungus, or that man...” He started, brushing his hair away from his face. “But he handed me this,” a small paper, the one Akira had handed it to him and now, Akechi handed over to Makoto. He had memorized all the information the note had, he had even memorized Akira’s handwriting, but still, he had kept the memento.

Makoto nodded, and unfolded the paper. If she had anything to say about Akira inviting him to the small café that served the pancake and coffee he had been rambling about the other day, she kept it to herself. The conclusion was obvious for them both.

“I’m happy for you.” She handed him back the note, which he pocketed quickly. Makoto had a small smile on her face then, Akechi noted, her smugness giving place to something quieter, like a contained happiness he couldn’t decipher. “Really, I am. Are you...? Happy?”

Strange question. Akechi paused, considering his answer, before he sighed his answer against her ear. Truth wasn’t something the boy delivered loudly.

“Once we get to Hogsmeade, I’ll be.”

Akira had been waiting for him at the train station, his two friends missing. Makoto had vanished somewhere in the middle, as Akechi’s world narrowed down to two people. He faintly remembered Mifune stopping him by earlier that day, showing him the Lovers’ tarot card, and wishing him good luck before he gently reminded her again that they were not friends. Still, the card came back to his mind as his gloved hand laced over Akira’s, and they walked towards the village.

They had gone to the café first, where Akira admitted he hadn’t felt like waiting for a table and Akechi after his friends had ditched him early. The coffee smelled warm, and the syrup dripped a bit from Akechi’s lips as he ate his pancakes more eagerly than he should, or would let it show under other circumstances. The boys chatted for a while, easy topics of conversation as both seemed to be just testing the waters. Akechi made the effort to try and answer honestly, instead of politely, and as for Akira, maybe it was the effort to tone down the standoffishness.

When Akira had commented about how strange that Akechi had joined Ravenclaw, when he acted so much like a Slytherin, Akechi had faltered. The honest, real answer felt like stones in his pockets, so he had simply smiled off and cryptically replied he’d rather be known for his intelligence, rather than his ambition — snakes were deadlier when hiding underneath flowers. Sure Akira had been allowed into his own world, but not into all of it yet. Some doors were still locked shut, barred.

Some doors lead to a horrid cell in Azkaban, labelled Masayoshi, and those had been burned to a crisp.

But even when Akechi’s mind wandered, Akira still pulled him back. He was starting to understand why Akira touched him so much, why the boy with the lightest fingers he’d ever felt always seemed only a touch away, his warmth taking up all of Akechi’s space. When Akechi would drown in the sea of his mind, it was Akira’s fingers who pulled him back towards the shore.

Perhaps that’s how they had ended up here, of all places, an abandoned shack away from Hogsmeade’s main road where most of the students didn’t dare go into.

Their touches at the café had started to become more constant, the conversation floating towards dangerous topics. When Akira had suggested he knew of a place to go before they took the train back, Akechi had surprisingly accepted. He just wasn’t expecting said place to be the “haunted” Shrieking Shack. Count on the Gryffindor to surprise him even during a date.

“Is that it, Akira?” Akechi hummed, dropping any formalities now that they weren’t in public. “Lovely place to hide a body.” He grinned, waltzing to the middle of the room where he began to discard his gloves and loosen his tie.

Akira merely laughed, slipping a chair behind the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted. He shrugged off his coat then, and ran a hand over his hair as he paced towards the slightly taller boy in front of him. Akechi simply looked at him, waiting to see what would happen next, and Akira took that as his cue to finish unlacing his blue and silver tie, exposing more of the other’s neck. They were in each other’s arms then, kissing without restraint now that they weren’t in public — Akira liked the intimacy between them. Those were the only moments Akechi allowed himself to be vocal.

“Hmm... You had quite the number of fans in that café, didn’t you?” Akechi’s voice was a small breathy thing in the shack as they lay down, Akira too busy with his neck at first to offer any reply; Of all things, Akira had the strangest fixations with his body: his hands, his neck, his caramel hair. “Wonder why they were glaring so pointedly.” Perhaps, it was because Akira now had a single focus of attention, his eyes zeroed on every twitch Akechi made. A dark part of his mind rejoiced at the fact a nobody like him had stolen their favourite sweetheart from right under their noses.

“It wasn’t personal...” Akira’s voice was soft as he pulled back, brushing his hair away from his face as he smiled. “But there’s enough Akira for everyone, hmm?” He teased, his thumb running over Akechi’s cheek, softer than his own. The boy had a roundish face, a square jaw that was barely there, which Akira found extremely cute. Paired with the caramel hair, he looked almost like an angel.

“No, there isn’t.” Akechi clicked his tongue, a small gesture of sudden possessiveness that caught even him by surprise before he tried to brush it aside with a laugh. “Unless you want to be chopped into bits?”

Akira laughed at their joke, at the strange sense of humour that encompassed their relationship. He was almost too tempted to spend the rest of their evening together indulging himself in the other’s body, necking Akechi and playing with his hair, his lips, until he was a mess, but the small weight in his pockets actually made him pause. Right, he had a mission there. Steal a heart, a bit more literally than your usual game.

So he pulled back, lips lingering over chapped and bitten ones for a moment before he was sitting up a bit more properly. He offered a hand for Akechi then, in case the other wanted to sit up, but the Ravenclaw simply shrugged it off, sighing heavily as if that had been his first rest in days. Akira tried not to get too lost on the sound, shaking his head and busying his hands with his own hair instead, a nervous tick.

“Tired of marking me up, Kurusu...?” Akechi’s voice was a bit hesitant, but still, he was smiling, eyes closed.

“No! I mean, that’s not it– I wanna ask,” Akira started, biting his lip for a moment before he licked at them. He decided to reach out for the other again, lacing their fingers together. It felt warm and reassuring. “This is gonna last, right? You won’t run away again, yeah? I mean, I’m not asking you about that shitty mark on your wrist, or how come your parents are never around– hell, or even why you disappeared last year when that Shido guy escaped Azkaban and then died, you tell me when you tell me, but... I like you, you know. A lot .”

Akechi’s eyes opened wide, his lashes fluttering in confusion before he looked pointedly at Akira. His cheeks were a bright red now, and Akira, knowingly, considered that progress.

“E-excuse me? What kind of guy says that on his first date... Not a wise one.” Even the sarcasm dripping at every of Akechi’s words didn’t mask his embarrassment. It didn’t mask that perhaps, the boy felt glad he wasn’t the only one losing his head and his sleep over a crush, of all things. Sae would laugh at him, if she could, then probably offer some very valid advice he could use right now. When Akira didn’t reply, remaining in silence, he looked away. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t say that...”

Akira frowned, his head tilting a bit to the side. Akechi took it as his cue to continue.

“I’m not... exactly sure what you saw in me, Akira. I think– well, honestly... you were always there, trying to start a conversation, and...” He paused, trying to remember Hogwarts without Akira in the picture. He couldn’t. He tried to remember why he had rejected Akira so hard the first time, and it felt stupid now, so long ago. “I think your– no, our game turned into something else, no? Perhaps it was fate.” His voice sounded happier then, lips curling up as he turned his head back to the Gryffindor boy. He barely registered being kissed pointedly again.

“Fate, really? You sound like the Divination teacher.” Akira was laughing, cupping Akechi’s face so he couldn’t look away. He felt like he had hated Akechi in a different life, so long ago. It felt petty now. “But, really... and, Ryuji couldn’t stop talk about how... evil you were. I had to find out.” Another kiss, and then Akira paused in thought, as if unable to string up a single coherent thought. “Wasn’t easy, really. You were pretty fake.” His thumb ran over Akechi’s lips, and the boy welcomed the touch, kissing at the tip of Akira’s fingers. His eyes seemed to ask ‘ am I? ’ and Akira laughed softly at that. “Nah. You came to the game, and... Here we are.” He pushed his thumb inside the other’s mouth then, watching as Akechi bit over his nail before sucking on his finger.

He pulled his thumb back with a loud pop.

“Here we are.” Akechi echoed, smiling. He looked back at Akira then, waited for the other to lead on the conversation. Akira might’ve not been aware of it, but for him to deny the upper-hand, it was love. “What now?”

“I got you something.” He pulled his hand away, wiping it lazily at his pants before he reached over for his pockets, making a face as he fished a small golden ball from it. “It’s only for you. So, think about me.” As Akira’s fingers pressed down against the gold, a small click followed by a buzz sound echoed in the shack. The snitch came to life in his palm, its tiny wings unfolding with grace before the small trinket was flying insistently around Akechi.

He couldn’t believe Akira had the nerve to steal and bewitch the school’s golden snitch for a small love-you escapade.

Akechi decided his expression showed enough of his mixed feelings. He stretched his hand over, caught the snitch with ease despite his reflexes, and brought it up close for inspection — he couldn’t tell if it was the real deal or not, perhaps it didn’t matter. All his mind reeled back to was that game, the one that had started everything again for them, and the gesture behind it. Akechi smiled at Akira’s expectant grin, as he twirled the snitch in his fingers, thinking of what to do.

He brought the snitch up to his lips. He kissed it, and winked pointedly at the thief.