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Chapter Text

The thing to note about the man known as the Russian Legend was that though he was flighty and easily distractible on a daily basis, he took figure skating seriously. Coaching figure skating, doubly so.

By the time Yuuri was finished practice, he wanted nothing more than to sink into his bed and forget the rest of the world, sweaty clothes and skates on his feet be damned.

Viktor was the sort who happily took advantage of Yuuri's stamina in order to devise a training regimen that worked him to the bones. Each spartan drill was commanded with a smile on his perfect lips, and Merlin, Yuuri could not disobey.

Not that he'd want to, his not-so-discreet obsession with Viktor aside – it was obvious Viktor's training showed promise, considering the results of Yuuri's recent competitions. And he'd never felt more stable in his jumps and landing.

It was a fair trade off for being reduced to feeling like he'd been cursed with the jelly-legs jinx (and boy could Yuuri recall fond memories about that particular curse during hallway scuffles while at school).

The second Viktor called it a day, Yuuri stumbled off the ice and into the changing room, hands dragged along the walls for support as his legs threatened to commit mutiny. He gave a pitiful moan when he collapsed onto the bench, one of both anguish and pleasure.

Except his journey was nowhere near complete.

He needed his training bag. But, his locker seemed so far away, and why was walking even a thing? Yuuri would lie on the bench all eternity if he could. He probably would (bless Yuuko, she would let him get away with it too), were Viktor not outside waiting for him to return home together.

Viktor did not need to see Yuuri as a messy pile of stench.

With more determination than he thought he had left, Yuuri moved to sit up, a loud groan enunciating his actions. His legs hurt. His everything hurt. He couldn't do it. Viktor would find him collapsed in the middle of the changing room floor two hours later, if he had to take another step.

Perhaps Yuuri would later call it self-preservation, or even anti-embarrassment measures, rather than sudden moment of weakness, but instead of persevering with the task, Yuuri suddenly slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wand instead.

Not just any old wand, his wand; the absolute proof of his wizarding heritage.

After graduating from Hogwarts, there hadn't been many chances for Yuuri to use any proper magic. He'd immediately moved to Detroit, and between getting used to American culture, University, practices under Coach Celestino, and eventually gaining Phichit as a roommate, he never had a moment to himself. Yuuri always worried himself silly that he would unintentionally break the Statute of Secrecy, though considering nothing of the sort happened yet, it was a needless fear.

Still, when he returned home to Hasetsu, Yuuri had gotten so accustomed to doing everything by hand by that point that his wand would sit mostly neglected in his back pocket – or wand-holster, depending on what shirt he was wearing – all day.

Sometimes Yuuri forgot he was a wizard.

Though, considering the constant flow of customers, using magic at Yu-topia wasn't a good idea to begin with.

Here, however, in the solitude comforts of the changing room, what was the harm? Straining his ears down the hall, Yuuri casted an "Alohomora" at his locker.

"Accio sport bag," he murmured, when the locker swung open. The bag soared into his arms, and the tingle of his magic washed over his form.

It had been far too long since he'd cast anything.

Still, it was no time to sit and appreciate the little things in life. Setting his wand by his side, Yuuri pulled out his clothes and changed swiftly. He'd already spent too much time idling about, and he knew better than to keep Viktor waiting. The man was unpredictable when impatient, and liable to burst into the changing room and accidentally catch Yuuri half-dressed.

Which wasn't any worse than their initial meeting at Yu-topia, but … No, no, no, no, don't think about it. Yuuri buried his face into his hand, trying to ignore the hot burn of his cheeks.

He hurried through his motions instead. In record time, he swapped his workout clothes with something more presentable, only to find his shoes missing. They were probably still in the locker, or perhaps he'd left them by the back wall.

Yuuri snatched up his wand without another thought. "Accio," he cast urgently.

"Yuuri?"

Yuuri's heart jolted from his chest at the voice, shoes nailing him in the back. They tumbled onto the floor, discarded, as the skater hastily crammed his hands out of sight.

There was no time to worry about the impending bruising, because he saw. Viktor saw.

"It isn't what it looks like!" Yuuri blurted, frantic, heart pounding in his chest in fear and anxiety because how could he make such a sloppy mistake? He should've checked before he casted another spell.

Viktor peek from around the row of unrented lockers, platinum brows raised at Yuuri's shrill cry. His eyes studied Yuuri's pallid face, and it seemed so intense – too intense – that Yuuri couldn't help but tremble under his icy gaze.

If Yuuri didn't fail in one thing, it was another, because with his measly talents, it was too much to ask for to be competent in both figure skating and wizarding. And now Viktor saw, except he couldn't. He couldn't be allowed to, not with the Statute of Secrecy, not with the world's history of witch hunts, and human discrimination for anything abnormal and beyond their comprehension.

Perhaps that scared Yuuri the most, knowing it could easily take a second for Viktor's endearing affection to turn to terror and distrust. He'd taken for granted, Viktor's care, Viktor's attention, Viktor's place by his side. In his content, he'd forgotten to be careful, and now stood to lose everything.

Yuuri didn't think he could handle seeing Viktor turn away from him. Perhaps when they hadn't been acquainted, when Viktor was just another poster, just another recorded coverage on TV, Viktor's reaction wouldn't've meant as much. But now Viktor had found his way into Yuuri's heart – deep, deep into his heart – and a single word, heck look, would be all it took to break that glass core.

Yuuri's eyes found their way to the white glare of the tiled floor, unable to hold on Viktor, in fear of his expression. Yuuri didn't think he could breath. His breathing was shallow, and his sight was starting to swirl.

True it would be simple to undo – it was simple enough to contact the Ministry's Obliviators to remove Viktor's memory of magic – but Viktor's reaction would stay in Yuuri's mind forever. And he would have to live with the knowledge of Viktor's shock and hate –

A warm hand cradled his cheek.

The contact startled Yuuri out of his spiraling thoughts.

There was a look of concentration on Viktor's face, rather than the alarm or astonishment that Yuuri was expecting. His hand held unmoving and reassuringly soft on the curve of Yuuri's face, while the man tilted his head, silver bangs sweeping aside to allow both eyes to study the skater before him.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and gently rested his forehead on Yuuri's own.

It was unexpected and startling that Yuuri jerked backwards without a thought.

Considering he was on a bench, that wasn't his finest idea. Yuuri flailed helplessly. Back met air, and gravity took hold. He would've tumbled to the ground if Viktor hadn't made an alarmed cry and lunged for him, arms curled around Yuuri's waist in a tight embrace.

Distantly, Yuuri heard his wand clatter onto the floor, slipped through limp fingers.

Yuuri froze.

Viktor made sure Yuuri was settled down properly in place before he reluctantly released him.

Then he crossed his arms and pouted his lips. "You should be nervous, trying to keep secrets from me," Viktor harrumphed dramatically, though certainly much calmer than Yuuri thought the situation entitled. Some sort of reaction was expected, considering he just found out magic was real.

"W-what?"

Perhaps the utter shock in Yuuri's pale face had Viktor treading carefully. The man dropped his sulk in exchange for a smile, gentle and calming. "Oh, Yuuri, were you that worried about it? You should've told me sooner. I could've told you you were fine," Viktor continued. There was a mild shine of disappointment in Viktor's gaze, but Yuuri was still too confused to let it worry him.

"I- I am?" he sputtered out, instead.

"Yuuri, don't you trust me?" The man pinned him down with pitifully sorrowful eyes. "As your coach, I promised you could trust me with everything, yes?"

"That's not– I mean," Yuuri scrubbed his face, shoulders drawing inwards. Realisation slowly dawned in Yuuri's mind. "I didn't think that you–" He started again, only to falter because Yuuri didn't know how to finish.

He didn't think that Viktor wouldn't be scared of his magic; that Viktor knew about magic; that Viktor had magic? Which was the right choice?

Viktor's reaction could mean any of the above.

"Of course, Yuuri! How could you suggest otherwise!" Viktor said cut in abruptly. There was such a tone of indignation that Yuuri's mouth snapped shut.

"Oh."

There was his answer.

Viktor was a wizard as well. He made it sound like it had been plainly obvious, crossed that Yuuri could mistake him for anything else.

He'd missed all the signs. Though, retrospectively, it wasn't hard to miss if Yuuri had been looking for it, not with all Yuuri knew about wizards.

It was public knowledge that Viktor hadn't attended further education in order to pursue his skating career. But perhaps the truth of the matter was that Viktor's schooling couldn't be made public because its existence couldn't be let known to muggles. Viktor was extraordinary, and Yuuri didn't doubt the man would've been capable of balancing school and skating - much better than how Yuuri coped in Detroit.

And Viktor's sudden appearance in Japan without forewarning didn't seem like such a reckless and stupid move anymore. No one would've gotten a flight to Japan on a whim… but with magic, if Viktor's offer had been rejected by Yuuri, his return would have been only a portkey away.

Never mind how Viktor managed to carry so much luggage, and managed to fill the banquet room with so much stuff. If that wasn't magic, Yuuri didn't know what was.

Yuuri lowered his gaze. "Oh," he murmured again. "Sorry. I didn't know."

"I care about you, Yuuri," Viktor said firmly, hands on his hips. "So, no more secrets, understood?" Viktor lectured, but despite his firm words, his face was soft and tender.

Yuuri nodded.

Viktor beamed. His hand snaked around Yuuri's arm and gave him a firm squeeze. Yuuri had a feeling it would've been a hug instead were Viktor not as considerate as he was, knowing Yuuri was shy of overwhelming contact. Instead, he let go with only a lingering touch, and then circled around his bench.

Viktor stooped down suddenly.

"I think you dropped these," Viktor said, picking up Yuuri's shoes, paused, and grabbed his wand as well. He dropped both into Yuuri's open hands. "Change quickly, Yuuri. Your cute sneezes are no reason to truly catch a cold!" he called out, finger wagging playfully in his face, though Yuuri wasn't sure when he'd ever sneezed cutely in front of Viktor before.

Then with a grin, Viktor waltzed off to let Yuuri finish changing in peace.

Alone, Yuuri sat motionless. Yuuri's fingers curled over the wooden grooves of his wand, shoes forgotten by his side. The warming sparks of his magic flowing through his body. Perhaps he was being too sensitive, but the thought that Viktor handled something as intimate and personal as his wand, left Yuuri's heart trembling and he didn't know what to do with that feeling.

Sometime over the months, Yuuri and Viktor somehow had gotten the habit of sitting quietly together in his family living room, talking about anything and everything.

The stiffness in Yuuri's sitting posture slowly relaxed from one of erect attention, to a casual sprawl as he got to know Viktor better. Even the distance between their respective seats slowly diminished, until Yuuri was brave enough to take the seat next to Viktor like a normal friend, instead of sat directly across like some sort of stressful job interview.

At this distance, Viktor was more beautiful than ever. TV did Viktor no justice; it couldn't capture the glisten in his eyes when he talked about Makkachin, his simple and careless bluntness, or the mischievous twitches on the corner of his lips when recounting his skatemates' antics.

Yuuri quickly got to know the quirky personalities of the Russian Team. He heard more than he ever needed to know about Georgi's troubling love life, Mila's amazing strength, and Yurio's constant rage.

In response, Yuuri told Viktor of his life in Detroit, of Phichit, of College, and training under Celestino's rule. It was boring, because Yuuri was a dull man who did nothing but study and practice, and surely Viktor would fall asleep hearing about such mundane topics. But Viktor would lean engagingly, cheek rested on his palm and made Yuuri's stories seem more exciting than they ever would be.

And honestly, he'd already blurted out years of embarrassing stories because his mouth had no control around Viktor sometimes. Not when Viktor set his gorgeous blue eyes on him.

As if aware of Yuuri's thoughts on him, Viktor turned from where he was sprawled lazily on the tatami mat, Makkachin draped under his arm. There was a drowsy atmosphere around him, especially after a long soak in the hot spring, yet despite this, his eyes focused sincerely on Yuuri.

"Tell me something interesting about yourself, Yuuri," Viktor said, and surprisingly, Yuuri anticipated the question this time.

Not that Yuuri consciously thought about it, but somehow the realisation that he no longer had to hide away half of his lifestyle from Viktor was surprisingly freeing. He hadn't realised how much he'd been holding back.

Yuuri had always been a bit of an outcast at Hogwarts. Between his dismal English, and his natural social anxiety, he never had the chance to make any close friends. Not everyone had the persistence of Phichit to get involved with him. Granted, it was mostly his own fault, taking every opportunity to slip away from his peers in order to keep up with his training for skating.

They never understood his infatuation with skating – or really, any sport that didn't have to do with Quidditch.

Now, it felt like he was making up for those lost years, able to unload all the things he never got to say about the wizarding world to Viktor. He certainly was no teenager anymore, but he finally made his first wizarding friend. Though, truthfully, not that much changed since then, because Viktor was his teenage crush, then and now – however, if asked, Yuuri would vehemently deny it because Viktor was a golden being who was a deity compared to the dime-a-dozen skater that was Yuuri.

It was still a marvel to be spoken in the same breath.

Under Viktor, Makkachin squirmed playfully in the lull. When he finally broke free, he bounded onto Yuuri's lap like a bundle of fur and slobber. Yuuri laughed and indulged the poodle with pets.

"I was pretty average at school, but herbology was always one of my better subjects," Yuuri confided at last, because that seemed like a good place to start. Makkachin's happy whine seemed to agree with him.

"Herbology?" Viktor questioned.

Yuuri blinked, confused, before realisation hit. "Oh, right, they probably had a different word for it in Russia," he mused. "Like, with plants?"

"Ah!" Viktor nodded thoughtfully and said a word in Russian that Yuuri didn't think he could ever reproduce. He shivered at the way Viktor's tone dropped, smooth and baritone, in his native tongue; it was so different from hearing him speak English.

"I'm not good with plants. I always forget to water them," Viktor confessed with a bashful laugh, which only served to distract Yuuri further. "Luckily I never had to take herbology classes," he said, carefully pronouncing the unfamiliar word.

"I guess it wasn't required at Durmstang?" Yuuri murmured to himself. "Or was it Koldovstoretz?"

Viktor's brows furrowed, and in utter mortification, Yuuri knew he had mangled the name horribly. "What subjects did you like, then?" Yuuri barreled on quickly, eager to stop Viktor from lingering too long on his embarrassment.

Viktor let him.

"What do you think?" Viktor asked, eyes hooded. Yuuri didn't know how anyone could make such an innocent question sound so teasing.

"Um, I, ah, I would've thought you were good at charms," Yuuri replied truthfully, because Viktor was definitely very charming – though, admittedly there was no correlation between being charming and charms. It was just a passing thought, okay? Yuuri flushed and buried his face onto Makkachin's floppy ear, wiping the last two seconds of stupidity from his mind, and wondering the ethics of casting an Obliviate for his own benefit.

Viktor cocked his head. "Am I charming you?" he said, in so much of a coincidence, Yuuri swore Legilimency was at play.

"You wouldn't need magic to charm me," Yuuri blurted out before his mind could censor his traitorous mouth.

A helpless expression crossed Viktor's face. "Don't I?" Viktor said, eventually. He sounded almost frustrated, though Yuuri couldn't understand why.

He stared silently at Yuuri, but before Yuuri could unscramble his mind to respond, Viktor carried on smoothly, "Actually, I found history pleasant, I suppose. I always imagined my name in the textbooks." He let out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

Yuuri stared, mesmerised. This man wouldn't need to wish for long, because as a five-time gold medalist, he certainly made history. If Viktor had been in his school history books, Yuuri wouldn't have fallen asleep so often in Binns' class.

"Speaking of history," Yuuri shared mirthfully, before he could blurt out anything else incriminating, "mine was a ghost, and not even an exciting one at that."

"Oh?" Viktor asked. An amused expression crossed his face, as though he was imagining the man.

Idly, Yuuri wondered if Viktor's school housed as many ghosts as Hogwarts, if any. The idea of a ghost professor was probably novel to the Russian.

"He'd taught some of the student's grandparents."

"Wow! I wouldn't mind being that old." Viktor's eyes sparkled. Without warning, Viktor suddenly reached over. He covered Yuuri's hand with his own. "Not if I could spend it all with you," he said dreamily.

Yuuri's fingers curled in Makkachin's fur, but didn't move to dislodge Viktor's grasp, suddenly struck by the thought that Viktor didn't have to stay with him. He'd been taking Viktor's presence in his life for granted for so long. What was keeping Viktor with him – definitely not his mediocre appearance, his uninteresting stories, or his inferior skating.

But something interested Viktor, and Yuuri couldn't let Viktor slip away that easily. He couldn't imagine life without Viktor anymore.

"P-please," Yuuri uttered. "Please haunt me," he said earnestly. Boldened by Viktor's widening eyes, he shyly held Viktor's gaze and professed, "And me too. I'll stay by you forever." His ghost would follow Viktor until Viktor sent him away.

With a happy cry, Viktor rolled to his feet and lunged at Yuuri. Makkachin yipped and wriggled between them, while his glasses sat askewed, squished between his face and the press of Viktor's cheek against his own.

"Forever! I like the sound of that," Viktor exclaimed, sounding so much like a promise.

Yuuri lobbed his phone across the room.

The impact met with a resonating clatter. Viktor visibly jumped at the noise. "Yuuri? What's wrong?" he asked, wide eyed. Yuuri would've felt bad, that is, if he had the ability to feel anything but mortification at this point.

"Nothing," Yuuri squeaked.

Viktor clearly didn't believe him. The man crossed the room to pick up Yuuri's phone, a pale finger running across the blue cell phone case carefully to check for damages. Finding none, he glanced down the screen. It was still lit, despite Yuuri's abuse, traitorously giving Viktor a clear view of the last article he'd been on.

What did it mean that Yuuri could predict Viktor's reaction the split second it occurred?

Viktor's whole face lit up as he skimmed through the text and accompanying photo, eyes glistening with glee.

Yuuri moaned into his hands.

"How is it still trending?" he muttered, mostly to himself, seeing as Viktor was too happy to relate. Because weeks later, and The Kiss was still all anyone could talk about.

Viktor squealed and twirled, flipping through Yuuri's phone. "Oh, look, we have fanart!" he said, shoving the screen in Yuuri's face.

Yuuri wanted to hide in his room, bury himself under the covers, and never resurface for a year.

Like the good friend he was, Phichit was having a field day. He'd send links upon links, accompanied by cheeky smilies, of everything he stumbled upon – half of which he probably wrote himself. Yuuri wouldn't be surprised.

It was Yuuri's mistake opening them up instead of doing the smart thing and deleting every single text from Phichit. Ever. And the internet – he needed to learn to delete the entire internet as well, considering all the twitter posts and tumblr accounts dedicated to the forbidden topic.

He could already feel his magic rebelliously creeping along with his rising blush, and the last thing Yuuri needed was to short-circuit his phone in a show of accidental magic. That was not a side Yuuri wanted Viktor to witness.

Thankfully Viktor mentioned nothing about his hastily thrown phone. Surprisingly, he took it in stride, rather desensitised to the whole thing, and Yuuri had to wonder about the oddities of Viktor's friends and the Russian Team if this was a common action amongst them.

Perhaps it wasn't uncommon for fellow wizards to randomly chuck their phones across the room like Yuuri had done, because of their magic. Better than having to buy replacements regularly.

Regardless of such revelations, Viktor was still in his own world, Yuuri's phone hostage in his hands. Viktor was happily and obliviously dancing around the room, showing Makkachin his favourite posts. Yuuri almost couldn't take his eyes off Viktor because Viktor was beautiful, and when he moved, choreographed or not, he had a graceful presence that demanded Yuuri's full attention.

It was with reluctance that Yuuri buried his head in his hands, because that was the only way he could escape from reality.

If he could, Yuuri would lunge for his phone to stop seeing that incriminating photo flashed around, but the thought of doing that only gave him flashbacks to Viktor lunging at him, and the resulting kiss. It was inescapable. (And to be honest, Yuuri wasn't sure if he was hesitating because he didn't want another reminder of the incident, or because he didn't think he could hold himself back from doing the same.)

Silver hair simmered as Viktor turned his head. When he noticed Yuuri's lack of attention, he pouted and veered back to the younger man, his name on his lips. "Did you see this post yet? It's a compilation of every angle!"

"I can't show my face in public anymore."

Viktor sulked. His expression did things to Yuuri, and it just wasn't fair how much of his heart Viktor unknowingly held in his hands. "Why not?" he asked, so ignorantly Yuuri didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I should've known you were a Gryffindor," Yuuri groaned instead, exhausted.

"A what?"

"At school – at Hogwarts," Yuuri explained, "we had houses. Gryffindor was the house for reckless people like you, who think that kissing me on an international broadcast is acceptable."

"I just wanted to reward you for impressing me."

"Ugh," Yuuri said, plopping down to the ground. He snatched up a pillow to bury his face into, groans muffled by fabric.

"Did you not like it?" Viktor continued pitifully, shoulders drooped into a miserable sight.

His bottom lip jutted outwards and glistened under the artificial lighting. Yuuri's breath caught, recollection of Viktor's container of lip balm flashed teasingly across his mind, and he could suddenly feel the ghost of Viktor's fingers once more, warm and tender as he slide them over Yuuri's own lips.

His eyes unconsciously flickered down to Viktor's mouth, unable to keep eye contact, before darting away with a flush.

Viktor caught the gaze, and his lips curled, pleased and too utterly seductive to be legally allowed. The distance between them shortened before Yuuri knew it, cologne assaulting his senses.

"Yuuri?" Viktor pressed, and Yuuri had a sudden and dire problem forming any sort of coherent thought. His mind replayed the pale, supple sight of Viktor's lips and it took all he could not to lean forward and capture them in his own.

He warred between craving, and dying of mortification if Viktor found out just how much his pitiful-self wanted that legend of a man.

Viktor stared at him through half-lidded eyes, silver lashes fluttering, beckoning him, doing a sound effort collapsing his wavering will. A tongue peeked out, pink and moist, and licked slowly across his lower lip in – absentmindedness? Anticipation? Enticement ?

Heat curled in Yuuri's stomach.

"Oh Merlin," Yuuri muttered breathlessly.

No, Yuuri decided, not Gryffindor; Viktor was secretly Slytherin. Viktor must know what his actions were doing to him.

Viktor's eyes narrowed and abruptly he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Yuuri, pulling him into his chest, hidden away from the rest of the world.

"Uh-"

 "Are you trying to make me jealous?" Viktor murmured. His voice was crossed between a whine and a plead, so low and warm in Yuuri's ear that he felt his legs go weak.

English. What was English? What was Japanese? An intelligent sound found its way out of Yuuri's throat.

Jealous?

From what? Was Viktor jealous from hearing about his school life?

It was an inconceivable thought because Yuuri was the one who was envious he missed out on Viktor's younger years. He never imagined Viktor felt the same as him.

Viktor seemed pleased at Yuuri's response. His voice purred, curling pleasantly as he murmured, "So, did you like it?" pulling the conversation back on track, but Yuuri's brain was too scattered to remember what they'd even been talking about in the first place.

"Wha-? " he strained, wide eyed, glasses slipping down his nose.

Viktor sighed. "Such a playboy."

Chapter Text

A tremble built from deep within his guts, so violent and nauseating that Yuuri stumbled in step.

No.

The world blurred.

Yuuri choked on his breath, fingers clenched around his phone. A numbness spread through his body, and Yuuri couldn't tell if he managed to disconnect Mari's call or not before he turned to the man who's happiness meant the world to him.

"Viktor you have to go back to Japan right now."

Viktor stiffened to the abrupt command, but Yuuri's serious expression kept him from any unnecessary dramatics. "What's wrong?" he asked instead, matching Yuuri's tone.

Yuuri swallowed. "I'm sorry, Viktor. Makkachin got to some sticky buns. She in the hospital right now– they're not sure if she'll make it. "

It was the tiny things that gave away Viktor's fear, unlike Yuuri's own usual response of explosive accidental magic. Viktor was always a man full of motion – tapping fingers, wide roving eyes, and a lithe body that swayed constantly to the invisible beat of the world. But all that froze in that single second. His pupils dilated, and breathing jerked.

Yuuri's heart ached for Viktor, yet all the Russian said was: "I can't."

"You have to go," Yuuri pressed, as memories of Vicchan swirled in the back of his mind. The regret resurfaced, along with the guilt and self-hatred, and the biting coldness that had spread across the back of his head until he hadn't been able to focus on breathing, let alone skating his Sochi Free Skate.

If only he'd been able to spend more time with Vicchan; if only he'd be able to spend Vicchan's last moments with him. There had been so many 'if only's weighing Yuuri down, until he wanted nothing to do but curl into a ball and cry his soul out.

Yuuri couldn't let Viktor experience the same heartbreak.

"Your Free Skate is tomorrow-" Viktor began.

"-and I'm telling you to go," Yuuri cut in.

Yuuri wanted to be many things to Viktor, but never the cause of his misery.

And perhaps Yuuri would become a spectacular failure on ice without Viktor's piercing, loving eyes watching his every motion, but Yuuri would not allow his own shortcomings to chain Viktor down. Not after everything the man had given him, and was still willing to give at this very moment.

Viktor looked torn.

Even if they booked the earliest flights, Viktor wouldn't be able to make it back in time - not that Yuuri wanted Viktor to rush back either, not if Makkachin needed him.

Frustration built.

Yuuri lamented, "Why are muggle planes so slow?"

"Muggle planes," Viktor repeated distantly, a murmur mostly to himself, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Any other time Yuuri would've been ecstatic to get into a riveting debate with Viktor about the different ways non-magicals were referred as. Schooled in Great Britain, Yuuri himself always found the American's term 'no-maj' odd. He could only imagine what they were called in Russia.

But at the moment, that was the last thing on his mind. Even if Viktor wanted to distract himself with such meaningless things, Yuuri couldn't do it.

"It's my fault. I knew I should've applied for an emergency international portkey," Yuuri said ruefully, because Viktor was too polite to accuse him of it.

Especially with the amount of travelling he did for competitions, an emergency portkey was common sense for safety reasons alone. Yet Yuuri had weighed cost over safety and opt to forgo one. International portkey were expensive, okay?

Plus thoughts of all the paperwork that needed to be filled out when he arrived in different countries to allow for the portkey already set his anxiety high. Yuuri hadn't wanted to deal with so many issues in addition to the competition.

How stupid of him to not realise it would come back to bite him in the butt.

And the more he fretted, the more problems Yuuri uncovered. "We don't even have Floo Network connected at the inn, not that it can travel that far, but I can't believe how unprepared I am," Yuuri admitted miserably.

Had Viktor been uncomfortable by the inconveniences all this time, Yuuri suddenly wondered? He'd been more or less forced to live as a muggle because of the constant guests at the bathhouse. Yuuri was used to it so he never considered how other wizards would deal.

Viktor blinked, head cocked, as though he never considered it a problem, though truthfully he looked a bit overwhelmed. "Nothing's your fault," the man said softly at last.

Viktor was perfect. So caring, so considerate, so accepting.

If Yuuri could even be half of what Viktor was to him.

"It'll be fine, I promise. If the vet can't do anything, maybe we could find a Healer? They could probably find a way to transfigure the bun to something harmless to pass through…" Yuuri rambled, knowing he had to comfort Viktor somehow, even though he'd been doing a dismal job so far.

He didn't know the right things to say, or have the resources to help, but for Viktor he would try, even if he had to ramble unintelligently and make a fool of himself.

"Just- please go. For me. For Makkachin," Yuuri pleaded. "When you get there, call me. Or owl. Or send a patronus, or-"

There was a tug, and Yuuri was pulled into Viktor's chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. It was equally soothing and nerve-wracking all at once. His heart and mind ceased racing for one matter, only to hop on board onto another. It would've been more distracting if not for the fact that Yuuri could feel Viktor's shaking hands on his back.

He may seem fine outwardly, but Yuuri knew Makkachin was more than just a pet.

"Viktor-" Yuuri began.

"Shhh. Thank you. You don't have to say anymore."

Viktor gave a chuckle, though it was more hollow than the one Yuuri was well used to by now. It wasn't hard to tell the difference, because Viktor's genuine laughs were bright and infectious, and could light up the world around him. This time, it only made Yuuri wanted to wrap up the man and shield him away from reality instead.

"It seems my understanding of English is a mess when I'm nervous," Viktor admitted, face buried into the crook of Yuuri's neck. Nestled there so perfectly like he belonged. "Not like yours."

"I've lived in Detroit for years," Yuuri countered weakly, realising Viktor was trying to distract him again, to assuage his guilt.

"Ah, Detroit slang. How unique."

Yuuri couldn't say it was any more unique than a typical American, but he wouldn't argue with Viktor at this time.

Yuuri's fist curls around Viktors back. "I'm sorry," he said, unable to help himself, " I'm sorry I can't be more help -"

"Nonsense. It's more than enough. I understand your care. Thank you, Yuuri, from Makkachin and me."

"So you'll go?"

"Yes," Viktor said, worn by Yuuri's persistence.

In the end, Yuuri was left in Yakov's capable hands.

There'd been no magical mishap despite Yuuri's erratic pulse and terrified worries. And though it was only barely, he managed to scrape by to squeeze into the Finals in order to show the world what a wonderful coach Viktor was.

To be honest, the request for Viktor to take him sightseeing had been an impulsive move, and only partially intentional on his part.

Yuuri had realised that Barcelona's magical shopping district, San Mercutio, was nearby, and the thought hadn't left him since, eager to visit. The only other wizarding districts Yuuri had had the pleasure of visiting was Diagon Alley in London, Hogsmead, and Sakura Kinjo in the Saga Prefecture of Japan.

It was an opportunity Yuuri couldn't miss. (Neither could he miss the chance to explore such a romantic city with Viktor.)

Viktor was a good sport.

They hit all the famous muggle tourist attractions first, which involved copious amount of shopping, dragged into stores by Viktor every time something interesting caught the Russian's eyes. The man was a shopping addict with more than enough money to burn.

The evening was already darkening by the time Yuuri could begin his search for San Mercutio's entrance.

Locating the place was harder than expected.

Yuuri bit his lip in frustration. "I swear it's around here, Viktor," Yuuri said, for most likely the tenth time since they started looking. "San Mercutio should be close by."

"Are you certain?" Viktor asked, not doubtfully, but there was a twinge of restlessness in his tone which Yuuri could pick out. The man tapped away on his phone as he trotted beside Yuuri.

Viktor was getting bored, Yuuri knew. They'd been walking in circles for a while now, with nothing to show for it.

Yuuri's fingers tugged the hem of his shirt in a nervous twitch. "I think so," he answered, though not as confident as he wanted.

It was unsurprising that Viktor eventually lost focus. The man drifted away, distracted, interest lost as his glazed gaze turned back on the nearby shops instead, eager to continue his shopping spree than to continue this futile task.

"Viktor," Yuuri said, hesitantly. "Come on."

But instead of following, the Russian only wandered further.

"But Yuuri, we need go back to the stores! I think we forgot to buy–" he started.

His blatant disinterest stung. It felt like it wasn't just the outing, but Yuuri himself, that Viktor was snubbing, and Yuuri hated his lapse in attention.

Yuuri didn't let him finish.

Impulsively, the skater wrapped his hand around Viktor's. He tugged the man forward, turning large, pleading eyes up at him. "Please? Don't you want to go to San Mercutio with me?" he implored, while the fear of rejection pressed on his chest.

Viktor startled.

His gaze lowered onto their joined hands. Then, slowly, he looked up, a large smile crept onto his face. "Oh, Yuuri, I'll follow you anywhere," he vowed and entwined his fingers with his.

A warmth settled over his limbs.

"We'll buy what you forgot later, when we leave San Mercutio," Yuuri promised. "It's just around here, I know it!"

Viktor seemed too cheerful to care about it anymore, even though it still took several forceful tugs to lead him where Yuuri wanted him to go.

It turned out, they were close by.

Unlike the shifting brick entrance to Diagon Alley, hidden inside a wizarding pub, or Sakura Kinjo, hidden amidst throngs of sakura, San Mercutio was more out in the open.

The entrance was hidden within an old building, where admission required weaving through the architectural archways in a particular sequence. The last step across the threshold would open the barrier and transport them into San Mercutio, and the awe was much like stepping through platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross.

It was a bit more complicated than Yuuri had expected; no wonder it took him such a long time to find it.

Because of the location, Yuuri didn't doubt there were muggle repelling charms in the vicinity as well, because without any charms, foreigners dancing in and out of archways would've otherwise caught everyone's attention – especially if one of the foreigners was the Living Legend, Viktor Nikiforov.

San Mercurio was small shopping district, a fraction the size of Diagon Alley. The buildings and street plan had a resemblance to those of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter, with its Gothic architecture style and winding streets.

Vendors displayed their wares with flourish that could only be found in the wizarding world, full of vitality and grandor and charms that sent sparkles to everyone's eyes.

Yuuri stopped in awe, because though he may be a wizard, the display of skills never stopped amazing him. Beside him, Viktor was equally still as he marveled the sights.

It was a relief to know he wasn't the only one so easily distracted by such simple acts of magic.

"Do you need to buy anything?" Yuuri asked, looking away, saying nothing to the warm feel of Viktor's hand carefully slipped over Yuuri's own. He tugged the man along, lest they block the entrance for other shoppers.

There was a rumble from the back of Viktor's throat, though Yuuri had a feeling it was more for the sake of acknowledging he'd been listening rather than a positive response.

They trotted along aimlessly.

"It's not as crowded as Diagon Alley is," Yuuri commented, trying to fill the silence that suddenly came between them. It was surprising since Viktor was always the sort to chatter and squeal about absolutely nothing. Perhaps muggle matters were more amazing to him, and matters of the wizarding world was too common and mundane to bother with.

They squeezed by a crowd of children worshipping the latest Firebolt. A smile crept into Yuuri's face.

He'd never gotten into the whole Quidditch craze, but- "Something about the Quidditch store draws me in every time." Perhaps it was second-hand excitement from enduring years of classmates talking his ears off about it.

He'd never been too bad of a flyer either.

He glanced at the new boom model once more, then drew on his confidence. "I was never good on a broom, but do you want to fly together some time?"

Silence.

"I mean you don't have to if you don't want to," Yuuri backtracked, sudden regret gnawing in his stomach. He shouldn't have asked. Why did he ask?

The silence continued, and eventually Yuuri pulled his eyes up from where he had dropped them, peeking tentatively at the man.

"Viktor?"

Viktor froze in front of the store, his eyes enraptured by the golden snitch flittering behind the display window, pupils darting with it's erratic movements. His hand tightened against Yuuri's and Yuuri wondered if he was envisioning capturing the snitch.

"Were you ever a seeker?" Yuuri asked, curiosity overwhelming. The snitch was shiny, golden, and full of energy – everything that was sure to dazzle the five-time world gold medallist. He could envision Viktor in Quidditch uniform, long silver hair fluttering in the wind.

Yuuri suddenly wished he'd studied in Russia instead.

"Seeker?" Viktor repeated. He seemed reluctant to tear his eyes away from the snitch.

"Mhm, I'm sure you captured a lot of snitches."

Viktor's thumb caressed tender circles over Yuuri's hand, before he turned from the display at last, an odd smile on his face. "Well, I'm certainly a seeker of love," he settled with, leaning down, staring deep into Yuuri's eyes. "There's only one thing I want to capture."

Blood rushed to his face.

"Viktor!" he cried, feeling eyes on them.

The man chuckled and took a step back. His eyes glanced back at the snitch once more, before he gently tugging Yuuri along with him.

"Sorry, what did you say earlier?"

Yuuri fidgeted, before ultimately shook his head. "No, no, nevermind. It was nothing. I was just talking to myself," he rambled.

Viktor pursed his lip and tightened his grip. "You said you wanted to… fly with me?"

Yuuri flushed but nodded.

"...on-" he pointed at the Firebolt, "-the broom?"

He nodded again. "Or, any model," Yuuri rushed out, because what if Viktor thought he only wanted to fly on the latest Firebolt together? "I think I have an old Nimbus somewhere."

Viktor considered it carefully, then tilted his head. "How about skating?" He asked softly. "What if I wanted to skate instead? Will you skate with me?"

It would be a dream come true.

"Yes," Yuuri said. "Yes, please."

Before his anxiety had the time to rear its ugly head and had him retracting his words, Viktor beamed at him. A switched seemed to had been flipped, and the man spun in spot, dragging Yuuri bodily along.

"Come on Yuuri, there's so much more to see," he exclaimed, playing the excited tourist.

It was like the subdue Viktor Yuuri saw earlier had been nothing more but an illusion. Whatever the problem was, it seemed Viktor was over it.

The man made an impatient sound.

"Okay," Yuuri replied dutifully, smile growing in his lips. "But we need to stop at the Apothecary before we leave, he added, because knowing Viktor, they would shop until Yuuri was too tired to remember his main objective.

"Apothecary?"

"For potions," Yuuri clarified, almost forgetting the language barrier.

"Oh," Viktor murmured distantly, but didn't give the Russian equivalent.

"What are you buying," he asked at last, a few minutes later.

"Some Invigoration Draughts and probably a couple Pepper-up's," Yuuri listed off. "Did you need to get anything?"

"No, I don't know what-" Viktor replied, then seemed to think better of it. "Ah, maybe next time," he added.

An impish grin grew on Yuuri's face. "Okay," he said, knowingly, eyes twinkling mischievously. It was a good thing his glasses covered up his evil intent. "I'll let you know if I see any hair-growth potion," Yuuri said.

Viktor gasped, hands sliding out of Yuuri's, and Yuuri almost regretted it. Almost, but not quite, because the sight of Viktor flustered made up for everything.

Viktor's both hands clamped over the top of his head, looking scandlised over at him.

"I think I saw a flyer for a discount on Sleekeazy's Potions for the Balding Wizard," Yuuri continued innocently.

Viktor shot Yuuri a glower before sulkily turning to track the passing buildings as they strolled past them. It was a smart move, considering how confusing the winding streets were. Yuuri probably would find himself lost without Viktor there. As it was, it seemed Viktor was diligently muttering something to himself under his breath.

"I'm sorry!" Yuuri surrendered, jogging to keep up with the other man. He bowed meekly.

Viktor turned towards him and rubbed his hair whorl. "You should be," he said huffily, but still slipped his hand back into Yuuri's the next second. He truly wasn't mad.

To be able to shop and tease Viktor like this - this was a relationship Yuuri cherished and would never give up on.

"Tell me if you spot Gringotts," Yuuri call over, and happily continued his shopping spree with Viktor.

After Viktor announced his comeback to competitive skating, they couldn't take one step without being ambushed them with questions and congratulations.

Yuuri and Viktor crept along the hallways, backs pressed against the walls as they tried to make their way out undetected.

Despite the fact that his heart was beating grand frantically in his chest in unnecessary anxiousness, Viktor seemed to be having the time of his life. Something about pretending to be ninjas. Yuuri should've known the man had a ninja obsession considering how he acted at the sight of Hasetsu's ninja castle.

Still, they were not actual ninjas, and the entrance was flocked with reporters.

"Should we apparate?" Yuuri asked, tugging Viktor back into the depth of the stadium.

Viktor paused, then slowly glanced over. "Both of us?" he asked. Yuuri nodded, but that only caused Viktor to looked troubled. "Why don't you ap-parate first? I'll catch up," he said, stumbling awkwardly over the word, because Yuuri didn't know enough Russian to give him the foreign equivalent.

"Where are you going?" Yuuri said, confused.

Viktor shrugged and smiled, making shooing motions with his hands. But something about his expression held Yuuri back.

A thought drifted through Yuuri's head. "Can you apparate?"

Viktor froze.

Yuuri turned towards the older man, who shifted uncomfortably under his inquiring gaze. "…no?" Viktor finally said, hesitant, and it was surprising because Viktor seemed like someone who could do anything he put his mind to.

At the sight of Yuuri's wide eyes, Viktor slowly grew worried, shoulders hunching and eyes darting away.

Yuuri caught himself and quickly schooled his shocked expression. Despite how perfect Viktor appeared, Yuuri knew best that everyone had their weaknesses. Viktor had nothing to be ashamed of.

Besides, apparition was more of a luxury than a necessity considering all the other different methods of travel, and a dangerous one at that. Yuuri had heard his share of splinching horror stories before finally acquired his Apparition License.

He said reassuringly, "That's fine. Some of my classmates never got Licenses either. Actually, I hear the Centre de Convencions Internacional de Barcelona is connected to the Floo Network. Most international convention centers in the European Union are."

"Ah, is that so," Viktor muttered to himself.

There was no inflection in his tone, but Yuuri thought he sounded rather frustrated. Was he frustrated at his lack of license, or did he not like floo-ing either? Yuuri wondered if Viktor was the type who could never escape the Floo unscathed, either covered with soot or sent tumbling out the other side.

He felt guilty admitting that he looked forward to helping Viktor brush ash from his silky silver hair, or catching him mid fall, if it came to that.

Yuuri tugged Viktor along the corridors in search of the elusive fireplace. Viktor gave no resistance.

They carefully searched around for a while, mindful of the reporters. Eventually, they stumbled into a small room hidden away behind an innocent, blank door. Yuuri dragged Viktor inside with a bit more force than necessary, but it wasn't his fault Viktor was still too busy playing ninja by himself to pay attention in front of them.

Viktor shook his head dazily, recovering from the sharp tug.

Guiltily, Yuuri let go.

"Here it is," Yuuri said, carrying on. He reached into small tin sitting above the fireplace. Viktor followed suit hesitantly when Yuuri tipped the tin over to him.

Yuuri frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think our Hotel's connect to the Network, but I remember a Pub in San Mercutio with a public Floo set up. Let's meet up there," he suggested. Viktor looked worried. "I'll go first?" Yuuri offered graciously, and catching Viktor in his arms on the other side seemed more and more like a growing reality.

Before Viktor could say anything, Yuuri threw in the Floo powder and called out "Ivanne's Pub" to the growing green flames. Then he stepped inside and let the green flames engulf him whole.

He should've reason something was wrong when minutes ticked by with no sign of Viktor following behind him.

Chapter Text

Yuuri panicked - internally, externally; he was all sorts of a mess.

He dodged around incoming pub-goers on stumbling feet, swiping Floo powder between pushing bodies. He was ignorant to their cries as he pushed his way through. All he could think about was the fact that if Viktor wasn’t here with him, then where on Earth did he end up?

He hadn't realised that Viktor’s accent was so heavy it caused accidental misdirections.

Was that why Viktor had been so hesitant to Floo?

Fingers trembling, Yuuri threw more Floo powder into the public fireplace. “Centre de Convencions Internacional de Barcelona,” he pronounced as clearly as he could, because they didn’t need to both be completely lost.

Green flames flickered across his view, and even the slight warmth that came with Floo travel couldn’t dissipate the cold fear in the pit of his stomach, because what if Viktor wasn’t at the Convention Centre either?

There were so many dangerous places VIktor could end up. Yuuri was sure Viktor was a fine wizard on his own, but Viktor seemed so out of it these past days.

Soot and ash swept past his feet as he hurried out the other end.

He was greeted by the sight of Viktor speaking rapid French with a worried looking elderly witch. They both turned towards him, Viktor’s eyes glistening suspiciously.

Yuuri froze at their twin stares, and a feeling of having done wrong washed over him. Except he’d done nothing?

“Viktor?” Yuuri began carefully, turning from the woman towards him. “Viktor, are you okay? You were very late- mmph-” Anything he wanted to say was cut off by Viktor’s mouth on his own. It was sooty and haisty but still everything Yuuri loved more than anything else, because it was Viktor.

His legs buckled under him, forcing Viktor to sweep him gracefully into his arms like some sort of synchronized dance. They twirled, Yuuri lost in Viktor’s crystal eyes, until Viktor’s hold loosened and Yuuri realised he was trying to help set him up right. It wouldn’t do to slump like a boneless lovesick fool the moment Viktor let go.

The man patted him down, likely concerned for his limp form.

It was endearing, except Yuuri wanted to know if Viktor was alright. Not that he minded the impromtu kiss, mind you.

 “Are you okay?” Viktor asked him instead, before Yuuri could repeat his question. At least Yuuri could now be certain Viktor had been listening before drawing him up into a kiss.

“Yes?” Yuuri replied hesitantly.

There was a weight over him as Viktor draped himself over his shoulders. “Then I’m fine too,” Viktor declared, a bit too dramatically in Yuuri’s opinion.

The elderly woman sighed softly off to the side. There was something tender in her eyes as she watched their odd reunion. She patted Viktor’s forearm, though she looked over at Yuuri instead. “Take care of your fiancé,” she said sternly in heavy Spanish flavoured English.

Had Viktor found time to confide a complete stranger the status of their relationship while Yuuri had been worrying needlessly for his safety?

To Yuuri’s confusion, the woman only continued on. “I won’t tell,” she said kindly, though ‘tell’ about what exactly, she didn’t say. But before he could ask, with a parting, “Be careful,” she was gone in a flash of green flames as she walked into the Floo.

Yuuri was left with too many unanswered question.

“Tell?” Yuuri echoed to the empty space she left behind. Finally, he turned towards Viktor. “Did you get caught up talking with her?” he asked, not accusatory, because Yuuri knew what he’d been getting into, and Viktor was sociable and absentminded on the best of days.

Viktor retracted his arms from where they’d curled around Yuuri, and they hung by his sides, swinging awkwardly like he didn’t know what to do with them. His fingers found the crease of his jeans, scraping against it in a nervous tick.

This was a man who could nonchalantly stand naked in a public onsen, who would sulk until he got things his way, who's unwavering confidence was capable of overwhelming anything he did that was socially unacceptable.

Viktor did not do nervous. Not like this.

“What were you talking about?” Yuuri pressed, because there'd been no problems up until that lady appeared. What had she said to distraught Viktor like so?

“I told her we weren't married. That I was only your fiancé.” Any other time Viktor would've spoken those words with a sulk, but there was something unexpectedly insecure in his tone this time.

“Marry me?” Viktor proposed, out-of-the-blue, while Yuuri was still pondering the reason behind his expression. It was an echo of the abrupt way Yuuri had sprung their matching golden rings onto him, but filled with so much more desperation. Viktor pressed this time, even though he’d never done so before, always so patient to let Yuuri set the pace he was most comfortable with. “Soon?” he urged hopefully.

Concern built up once more, not that it had dissipated in the first place. “What's going on?”

“You walked into the fire,” Viktor answered instead.

“Yes?”

“You walked into the fire and you went up in flames! Then you were gone,” Viktor continued.

Yuuri wasn't certain why Viktor felt the need to explain the mechanics of Floor Travel to him, but he nodded regardless. “Yes?”

“I didn't know,” Viktor said, and before Yuuri could ponder what exactly he didn't know - because surely they had Floo Travel in Russia? - Viktor rambled on, “I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to know. I didn't know that I shouldn't let anyone else know that I didn't know unless I wanted to end up really not knowing.”

Yuuri's brain whirled in daze. He grabbed Viktor's hand, fingers curled around his trembling figure.

“I was scared when you disappeared. She came in to use the fireplace, and I had to ask.” Viktor continued, barely taking a breath. “And she told me it was against the law for me to know about,” he flapped his hand meaninglessly towards the general vicinity of the fireplace and Yuuri, “this, you, until we were married. I could get… obliviated.”

“But that's only for muggles,” Yuuri said, before his mind caught up with his mouth. And then all the times Viktor stumbled over seemingly mundane words flashed before his eyes.

An unbelievable realisation suddenly crossed his mind.

What if they hadn't had language issues, as Yuuri had so quickly written them off as, rather than actual, complete incomprehension on Viktor’s part?

Except, Viktor couldn't be muggle.

Viktor was so… so magical. More so than anyone Yuuri knew. The way he glowed under the sunlight with a spark of something utterly divine. The way his skating took the breath out of Yuuri, enchanting and ethereal like a being not of this world; the incarnation of magic itself.

“But- but you saw me do magic. I've talked to you about magic. You've came with me to San Mercutio!” Yuuri exclaimed.

Viktor cocked his head in thought. “So, you… all this whole time you really didn't know I was a, ah, muggle?” he asked, and Yuuri could see his eyes dimming, and something timid seeped through. “You thought I was like you?”

“Well, yes,” Yuuri admitted truthfully.

Viktor gave a empty laugh. “I see.”

There was all sorts of wrong with the way Viktor said those words that Yuuri scrambled to continue on, “Not the entire time! Just- I mean- you saw me summon my stuff and weren’t surprised. A-and you said you were a wizard too.”

“When was this?” Viktor asked, brows furrowed.

“At the Ice Castle. In the locker room.” He paused. “It was after practice. You told me to trust you and to stop keeping secrets,” Yuuri added when Viktor continued to stare cluelessly at him.

Slowly, realisation dawned as his eyes widened. “When you were sick?”

“Sick?”

“You sneezed and tried to hide it from me. And you thought I didn’t care about your wellbeing!”

“...that's not what happened, though?” Yuuri said, confused.

Though Yuuri couldn’t remember their interaction word-for-word, it slowly dawned on him that no explicit terms had been used in that stilted conversation of theirs. And ‘accio’ could sound like a sneeze if heard by someone who wasn’t expecting latin out of the blue.

“So- so you’re really not a wizard?”

“No, I'm not.” He sounded blunt and distant. The dimness in Viktor’s eyes didn’t recede.

“Viktor?” Yuuri pressed hesitantly.

The man didn’t speak for moment, and when he did, it was full with a bitterness that had no place in this world, ever. Viktor gave huff. “I should’ve known better. I thought I’d gotten through to you at last, Yuuri,” he said, running a hand through silver locks, “but it turned out it was all because of a misunderstanding. I’m not the man you thought I was, and I can’t be. I’ll never be.” Something in his blue eyes glistened like thawed ice, held together only through desperation.

Did he think Yuuri would dump him for being a muggle?

“No!” Yuuri exclaimed before the thought could settle into Viktor's mind for a second longer. Because as far as Yuuri was concerned, one second of Viktor misunderstanding his love for him was a second too much. Viktor just needed to be Viktor to hold Yuuri's heart in his hands. He didn't need to know magic, nor be world famous. Everything else was bonus - his adorable insecurity about his hairline, his tactile affections, his all-accepting smiles.

“You're so captivating, so marvelous,” Viktor said, hands gesturing grandly, “and magical! How can I live up to all this-”

That was a horrible lie.

It was Yuuri who could never be worthy of Viktor, and it was something he hoped daily for Viktor to never realise, lest he cast him aside.

Yuuri was desperate and clingy. He'd bought matching rings and forced them on Viktor, a claim and connection to show off to those around. He'd commissioned charms and runes carved into each golden band, filled with all the love, safety, and happiness Yuuri wished for this man.

Yuuri lunged, grasping Viktor's hand. Their rings clinked, metal against metal like the harmonious sound of marriage bells.

Yuuri slotted his fingers between Viktor's.

“I mean everything I've said, no matter who or what you are,” he declared firmly.

“But it was after that-” Viktor began, before his voice dropped to a hushed insecurity that squeezed against Yuuri's chest. “It was only after that misunderstanding that you started to open up to me.”

Yuuri understood insecurity better than anyone. “Trust me, Viktor? I wouldn't have bought us these rings otherwise.”

 Viktor's grip clenched. His thumb swept over Yuuri’s ring, rubbing it tenderly, wonder on his face.

“I thought I imagined it - my ring, it always felt so warm and safe … it felt like you.”

Yuuri blushed and looked away.

“Oh. Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor crooned, bringing their joined hands to his lips. “I should never have doubted you.” He tugged him close into his chest, pulling his hand out to engulf Yuuri entirely. It was like a warm blanket descended on Yuuri, smelling of cozy dates and shy kisses. “I should have never doubted our love. Forgive me?”

“Always,” Yuuri breathed, and Viktor responded by hugging him tighter, twisting so their lips locked, pressing needingly against each other in promise and acceptance. Magic sparked in the air between them, echoing the fireworks behind Yuuri's eyelids. Viktor made a startled sound but didn't pull away in a show of trust, because Viktor was always a man of his words.

Yuuri moaned into the taste of him, toes curling, fingers entangled in fine silvery hair. The moment was more magical than all seven years at Hogwarts.

Yuuri never wanted it to end.

Which was when Viktor pulled away suddenly and asked, “Ah, I almost forgot. Can you unshrink my shopping now?”

“What?”

The man reached into his long overcoat and pulled out miniature bags, identical to the ones from their shopping spree around Barcelona.

Yuuri recalled he'd cast a Diminuendo on them while in St. Mercutio because the evidently muggle brand names on the shopping bags had garnered too much attention. He'd slipped them into Viktor's pocket, assured the man would be able to unshrink them afterwards himself.

He had never been more wrong.

But Viktor hadn’t said a thing when Yuuri had handed them over! “You just accepted them,” Yuuri said, bewildered.

“You gave them to me! How can I refuse anything from you?” Viktor whined, eyes staring much too dotingly into his own.

“And you’ve been walking around with miniature shopping bags in your pocket since?”

“It seemed like a good idea,” Viktor countered weakly.

Of course it did. Merlin, Yuuri loved this man.