Chapter Text
Of course they’ve noticed.
Students notice everything. Between walking along the corridors and teaching lessons, Dan (or ‘Professor Howell’ as he’s formally known) doesn’t think he’ll ever catch a break from the prying eyes of young witches and wizards alike.
So far, he’s been painfully careful over how he presents himself at Hogwarts. It may have only been a few hours so far, but he’s just taken up the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and he doesn’t want something as fickle as stigma forcing him to resign before he’s even really started.
(After all these years, nobody seems to want to stay for more than a year. Tom Riddle may be a name of the past, but even the smallest of his actions has left a permanent mark.)
The entire thing feels like walking on eggshells. Dan only got the job through his other half. It doesn’t help when said other half lets his hand wander under the table at dinner.
“Phil!” he hisses, when Phil’s hand gets a little too eager.
“I’m only getting your attention,” Phil replies calmly.
“Well, you have it now.”
“Good. You have something on your...”
The sentence is never finished. In one fluid movement, Phil’s wiped the corner of Dan’s mouth with the pad of his thumb and licked it clean. If Dan wasn’t so terrified about screwing up, he’d pull Phil over and kiss the living shit out of him. As it is, he’s flushed from head to toe and trying to ignore the students that are pointing and whispering.
“Drinking on the first night? That’s naughty,” Phil says under his breath.
“Phil, I swear to god if you try turning me on any more I’ll-”
“Something the matter, Professor Howell?” a distinctly Scottish voice murmurs.
“Minerva,” Dan replies, paling. “I didn’t see you there. I - I’m fine, thank you. More than fine.”
“Good,” she says. “Tell Professor Lester he’d be advised to keep his hands to himself.”
This was all a mistake, Dan thinks. A huge, terrible, mortifying mistake. Maybe he should have accepted his fate and looked for a job at the Ministry after all.
“Of course. Sorry about that. I tried to tell him not to-”
“Don’t be silly,” she interrupts him, waving a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t bother me. I used to do the same with Sybill.”
Dan barely has time to process what she just implied; as soon as she’s finished speaking, it’s like a switch has been flicked. One moment she’s beside him, the next she’s waiting for the students to quieten down.
“Good evening everyone. Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” she begins, her voice stretching to every corner of the hall. “Before we all tuck in, I have a few things I’d like to say.
“My first announcement is that we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Everybody please welcome Professor Howell.”
She turns around expectantly, gesturing to where he’s sitting. Dan stands up and manages an awkward wave as the students and staff applaud him. Once he’s sat down, McGonagall continues.
“Another thing worth mentioning is this year, we’re going to have something a little different. None of you were here during the last one, but…” she pauses, trying to collect herself. “But that may have been for the best. For this year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Yule Ball.”
The Yule Ball? That’s news to him. The students all turn to each other, the air thick with a confused kind of tension.
“Let me explain.”
Silence.
“You may have assumed that the Yule Ball will be accompanied by a Triwizard Tournament. This is not the case. We all know what happened last time. It has been permanently banned for a reason.”
There’s an audible sigh of relief. Dan sees Phil’s shoulders sag beside him and his heart almost breaks on the spot. Though he may not understand it yet, he knows how much these students mean to Phil. To have a repeat of what happened to Cedric would be unthinkable.
“It is for that same reason that we have decided to host another Yule Ball. You see, this year marks 20 years since the last one. Of course, there will be some changes from last time. Although the Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic have been invited, this ball will be open to all students, and the absence of Triwizard Champions will not be replaced with anything.
“All three schools, the Ministry and Cedric’s family agree it would be a shame to let such a beautiful event as this be tarnished with darkness. We want this to be a celebration of all students, a celebration of everything we’ve fought so hard for. While it is important to look to the future, to do so we must often reflect on the past.
“And that’s all I currently have to announce. Let the feast begin!”
Throughout dinner, Dan feels eyes on him, watching his every move. No matter how hard he tries, they never seem to go away.
“Sybill? Sybill Trelawney?” Phil asks, lazily tracing circles on Dan’s shoulder blade.
“That’s what she said,” Dan replies.
“I mean, it’s unexpected, but I’m happy for them. Are they even a couple anymore?”
“Who knows,” he says, turning over to face Phil. “They might go to the Yule Ball together.”
“Mm.”
There’s a lull in the conversation. If Dan looks hard enough, he can see the thoughts pooling on Phil’s tongue, waiting to be spoken. He runs a finger along Phil’s jawline and Phil leans into the touch, forced to bring his gaze up to Dan’s.
“You can say what you’re thinking,” he breathes, his thumb gently tracing Phil’s cheekbone.
“I was just thinking about the Yule Ball,” Phil says. “And how much I’d love it if you went with me.”
Dan pauses. They haven’t had a proper discussion about how open they want to be with their relationship. It isn’t a question of how much he loves Phil, how much he utterly adores this man who turned a teenager on the cusp on nothing into a fully fledged professor on the cusp of everything. It’s more a question of whether he feels ready for the entirety of Hogwarts to know about them, about the life they’ve built with each other.
“A lot of people go to that,” he says slowly. “Would you be comfortable with everyone knowing?”
“I would,” Phil replies. “It sounds like you wouldn’t, though.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes burning, threatening to spill over. “It feels like too much all at once.”
Phil pulls Dan into his arms, lets Dan bury his face into his neck, presses soft kisses into his hair. At times, he doesn’t feel any different from the shy eighteen-year-old who used to spend hours in Flourish & Blotts burying himself in other worlds while his own fell to pieces. This is one of those times, a moment where he wishes he could be proud of how far he’s come.
“We can take it slowly,” Phil suggests. “Drop a hint here and there or something. Have fun with it.”
A watery smile tugs at Dan’s lips.
“Okay.”
As it turns out, Dan and Phil have wildly differing views of what ‘dropping hints’ means. For Dan, it’s letting his hands linger on Phil’s shoulder for a moment too long, or fixing his tie if it’s wonky in front of students. For Phil, it’s sneaking a kiss in at every possible occasion, regardless of whether anyone is there to see.
(Thankfully, they haven’t been caught by any students yet, but there was a close call with some first years and an alcove.)
One day, when Dan’s running slightly late for a lesson, he hears some of them gossiping. Intrigued, he sneaks up as far as he can and listens in.
“I saw him down by Hagrid’s hut with Professor Lester earlier.”
“Probably flirting again. Typical.”
They giggle.
“But doesn’t Professor Lester have a secret wife?” a voice pipes up. “That’s what I heard.”
“Well, I heard that Professor Howell and Professor Lester are married to each oth-”
Dan knows when he’s heard enough. In a flash, he pushes the door open and strides to the front of the room.
“Hello everyone. Sorry I’m a little bit late.”
“Busy with Professor Lester?” one of the boys, Henry, says.
“That is none of your business, Mr Babbinger,” he fires back. “You should be more concerned with trying not to fail your OWLs this year.”
And just like that, the rumours have been quelled.
For now, anyway.
“I want everyone to repeat that. 3, 2, 1…”
“ Riddikulus !”
“Excellent.” Dan claps his hands together, sufficiently satisfied with how his students are responding to him. By his standards, it’s a wonder they listen to him at all. “Now, get in a line behind me. Once I’ve let the Boggart out, all you have to do is say that and it’ll turn into something funny. Audible laughter is what really gets to them.”
The students scramble to get into a line, an unlucky few getting pushed forward by their peers while the rest form a group behind them. Dan turns to the first student, a girl with bright eyes and a mess of curls. When she sees Dan looking at her, she withdraws slightly.
“It’ll be alright,” he reassures her. “Just give it your best go.”
“I’ll - I’ll try, Professor,” she says.
With a flick of his wand, the handle of the wardrobe clicks open. When the door has opened fully, the girl freezes beside him. Another girl has stepped out, a sneer etched onto her features.
She closer she gets, the more the student tries to step back. Eventually, she chokes out a “ Riddikulus ” and the Boggart sprouts bunny ears. Her friends all howl with laughter, but she struggles to hold back the tears that come so freely.
“Okay, right, that’s all for today,” Dan announces in the heat of the moment. “Be sure to practice the charm as often as possible. Clarity is key. You’re free to leave now.”
While the other students all race out of the door, the girl stays, as if she was somehow able to tell that Dan wanted to speak to her. She sniffles, avoiding eye contact.
“Do you like tea? Biscuits?”
The girl nods, following Dan as he beckons her to his office. When they’re inside, he pours them both cups of tea and sets out a plate of biscuits. She gingerly sips at the tea, her eyes still misty and red from crying.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Nymphaea,” she says, barely more than a whisper.
“Nymphaea,” Dan repeats. “Water lily, right? That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.” She looks surprised. “Not everyone knows that.”
“Oh, well my - a colleague of mine likes gardening, you see.” He pauses. “Anyway, I wanted to apologise. You were forced to confront one of your biggest fears when I could have just asked for someone to take your place. A lot of them seemed eager to.”
She smiles, but remains quiet.
“Great pronunciation, though,” he adds. “Transformed it right away.”
A rather uncomfortable silence descends. Dan’s nearly finished his tea when Nymphaea finally speaks up.
“I loved her, Professor.”
Dan can’t help the soft gasp that falls from his lips. In that moment, he wants nothing more than to hug her, to tell her that things will work out, that she’s allowed to love whoever she wants to, but he can’t. It took her a lot of courage to even admit that to him in the first place. The best thing he can do is listen, to accept whatever she’s willing to give.
“The girl the Boggart took the shape of?” he eventually says, trying to be as careful as he can.
“She was called Elena,” she continues. “We were best friends growing up. One day I… I said too much. She laughed in my face. I never saw her again.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like you’re more scared of what she said then her herself.”
Nymphaea properly looks at him then, the expression on her face somewhere between shocked and relieved.
“You understand,” she whispers. “Don’t you, Professor?”
“I do.”
A small smile ghosts her lips.
“Excuse me if I’m being intrusive, but is it Professor Lester?”
All Dan can do is laugh fondly.
“It is. Always has been.”
To his surprise and relief, the more open Dan is around Phil, the better people respond to him. Whenever the two of them are together, students will smile knowingly, or wolf-whistle on occasion. They simply roll their eyes and go back to talking about what one of them has been teaching that week, or things to do over the weekend. It’s more than Dan could have hoped for, but somehow, it isn’t quite enough.
The selfish part of him wants everyone to know just what Phil means to him, how deeply and wholeheartedly he loves this man and everything about him. He wants people to see that they aren’t just flirting colleagues, or a couple trying to hide. If anything, the response has motivated him to stop hiding.
He tells Phil this on a rain-drenched day in November, and Phil’s smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Does that mean you’ll come to the Yule Ball with me, Professor Howell?”
“I believe it does, Professor Lester.”
When the day finally comes, Dan can’t stop himself from pacing.
So far, their Christmas Day has been nothing short of wonderful. This year, it’s been just the two of them in their cottage, opening presents and eating their homemade Christmas dinner by the fire. He doesn’t want what has otherwise been a lovely Christmas to be spoiled by a bad reception at the Yule Ball.
They’re both dressed up in their finest robes, with Dan wearing a shimmering midnight blue (Phil convinced him to not wear black for once) and Phil in a sleek dark silver ensemble. The colour makes his eyes look even more beautiful, and he looks so delicious that Dan could weep.
“It’ll be fine,” Phil says. “Everyone knows anyway. They just don’t know the full picture.”
“I’m nervous,” he replies. “That’s all.”
“Having second thoughts?” The slight tremble in Phil’s voice betrays him. It’s enough to stop Dan from pacing, enough to force him to kiss Phil square on the mouth. He doesn’t stop until Phil melts into his touch, until they’re wrapped up in the complete trust they have in each other.
“No. Not now, not ever. You know what? Let’s fucking do this.”
The Great Hall is officially the second most gorgeous sight Dan has ever seen.
Every inch of it has been transformed; the floor is now powdered with white, the skies above are filled with stars and there are Christmas trees at the far end, their boughs laden with snow and flickering candles.
The people around him are either dancing or mingling, holding glasses of what looks like champagne. Dan falters slightly, at a loss of what to do.
“We should dance,” Phil says. “Do the big reveal.”
“Right, yeah, sure,” he gets out, his heart suddenly thumping against his chest.
“Dan.”
They look at each other.
“Breathe. I’m nervous as well.”
Taking Phil’s hand, they manoeuvre through the throngs of people until they’ve made it to the dance floor. Before they dance, however, Phil has a little trick up his sleeve. He’d mentioned it to Dan, and Dan was so taken with it he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
There are eyes on them now. Staff and students and strangers alike are all staring. As the room holds its breath, Phil waves his free hand over Dan’s outstretched hand.
Like a flower blossoming, or the morning sun spilling over the horizon, two rings stretch and curl around their fingers. In the cool, starry light, they glint and shimmer, showering luminescence over all who see. Dan feels tears in his eyes, suddenly overcome with the beauty and gravity of what they’ve just done.
There’s applause.
Looking around, they see a young girl clapping. Dan recognises her as Nymphaea, and smiles earnestly at her. He tries not to pick favourites, but he knows she has a heart of gold.
Other people join in. Before they know it, what feels like the entire Hall is clapping for them, the sound amplified by everything around it.
(It seems to last for a lifetime; in a way, Dan knows it’ll never stop. It’ll ring out in his head forever.)
Overjoyed, he looks around and sees that the people who were staring are now smiling and applauding, nothing but happiness written in their features. He smiles back at everyone he sees, at faces he might never see again and faces he’ll see many more times in the future. He even smiles at Professor McGonagall, who’s standing beside Professor Trelawney with a knowing glint in her eye.
He feels Phil’s hand on his shoulder. The second he’s turned around, Phil swoops in and softly kisses his lips. What was applause is now a cacophony of thunderous cheers, the sound filling every part of him he thought was broken. Winding his arms around Phil’s neck, Dan leans into him and tries to soak it all in, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment of sweet, pure bliss.
With Phil’s hands on his waist, pressed nose to nose, the world is theirs.