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It was an unassuming Tuesday when Albus Dumbledore announced at dinner that Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard tournament. Harry Potter, the boy who took double potions on Tuesdays like everybody else, was midway through a plateful of potatoes and potroast and frankly wasn’t paying too much attention, when the great hall erupted into cheers. 

The commotion caused, Harry to lift his head and look around with a mouthful of potatoes, utterly confused.

“What’s going on?” He asks Ron, who like everyone else was positively elated about something. 

“Didn’t you just hear Dumbledore?” Ron asks, his own mouth full of food.

“Wasn’t really paying attention,” Harry says swallowing his food at last. 

“We’re hosting the Triwizard tournament this year!” The ginger haired boy cheers over the chatter of the great hall, spitting bits of potato at Harry. Ron blushes “sorry,” he apologizes with a swallow. Harry makes a face and brushes bits of chewed potato off of his jumper. 

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Harry asks dryly. 

“Yes,” Hermione interjected from Harry’s right, “it is.” Harry turned to look at the bushy haired girl who pressed on into what could only be described as a short form lecture.

 “The Triwizard tournament is a competition between three schools, who will each have a champion to represent them in a series of competitions, and later be crowned champion. It’s essentially a display of each school’s superior ability to properly educate and produce adept young witches and wizards.” She finished her tirade scooping a spoonful of soup into her mouth. 

“Well, alright then” Harry said easily, turning back to his dinner. 

Harry initially showed interest in the prospect of the tournament, always one for a healthy competition. That interest pretty much died when Dumbledore a number of evenings later, after the other schools had arrived and the champions were chosen, announced quidditch would be cancelled for the year due to the tournament. After this announcement Harry spent the next three days in his dorm sulking, before Hermione had stormed in and dragged him by the ear to Herbology. 

Afterward, he didn’t really give the tournament much thought again. Only occasionally listening when Ron or his other housemates babbled about it. His interest was only truly renewed was only when the Yule Ball was announced. For reasons other than a healthy competition between peers. 

They found out on a Thursday, and once again Harry wasn’t really paying attention to anything more that what was on his plate. He was knee deep in his peas, when Dumbledore had made the announcement, sending the entire great hall into a tizzy. Almost instantaneously, the Gryffindor girls (and some of the lads) around Harry were twittering about ribbon, and chiffon, bedazzled barrets, and other things of that sort. 

Harry on the other hand, who has been known to wear the same shirt three days in a row and hasn’t replaced his trainers in nearly three years, spent most of dinner happily un-engaged in any talk of Yule Ball preparations fluttering about the table. 

That is until, Lavender Brown had whipped her pretty head around and asked, “Who are you going to ask to the ball Harry?” 

“Huh,” he responded eloquently. Lavender battered her eyelashes and twirled a long lock of brown hair around her finger. “I said,” she smiled prettily “who are you going to ask to the ball?” 

Harry...

Well, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

Frankly, he didn’t even know if he wanted to go to the ball. 

So at a loss, Harry shrugged in response. Which didn’t seem to satisfy Lavender very well, but Harry didn’t much care and returned to his dinner. He escaped the great hall sometime later when talk about dress robes came up, and Harry had lost both Ron as well as Hermione to it. 

Harry was idli making his way back to the Gryffindor common room when he ran into Hogwarts’ own champion, Cedric Diggory, just outside the library.

 “Wotcher Harry,” the older boy called out with a friendly wave of his hand. Harry’s stomach did an odd sort of somersault and he offered Cedric a friendly grin. 

“Hey Cedric,” Harry says a hand falling to smooth out his wild hair, “haven’t seen you since the Quidditch World Cup, how’ve ya been mate?” 

The older boy falls into step with Harry and lets out a huff of air. “Alright,” Cedric sighs “can’t quite seem to get a moment to myself lately.”

“Oh yes, I'm sure it must be quite difficult being showered with praise and attention all the time,” Harry offers with a smirk. 

Cedric nudges the younger boy with his elbow, “hey now that’s not very fair.” He ruffles his hand through his honey colored hair. “I actually don’t like being in the spotlight very much,” Cedric says “not everyone is a born entertainer you know?”

“Yeah that’s true enough I guess,” Harry shoves his hands into his pockets. “I mean, Fred and George are right natural entertainers,” he quips, “It's right great for team morale, but terrible for keeping everybody focus during practice, used to drive Wood right mad. I reckon that if they weren’t Percy’s brothers, Wood would’ve beaten the pair of them with their own bats”  

Cedric laughs, which is an airy and soft thing, that makes something in Harry’s chest squirm.

 “Pity about quidditch, don’t see why we couldn’t just play around the tournament,” Harry comments while he tries to will away the strange feeling in his chest. It doesn’t work. 

Cedric nods. “Right? I mean I rather be chasing the snitch in a thunderstorm, opposed to dodging dragons any day.”  

Harry makes a face, “yeah that first task was a bit shoddy to say the least.”

Cedric shuttered next to Harry. “Yeah nearly lost my eyebrows to dragon fire.”

“Right loss of opportunity that was,” Harry said with a wave of his hand “I mean just think how cool the scars would have looked.”

“They wouldn’t have looked cool at all!” Cedric blanched “I reckon they’ve would have just scared in the place of my eyebrows, that would’ve been the least cool scar ever.”  

Harry pictured Cedric without his thick brows, and the mental picture was quite comical. He laughed, “I guess you’re right.” Cedric ruffled his hair again and the pair reached a crossroads where their paths diverged. Harry’s to the left and Cedric’s to the right.

“Well,” Cedric said stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’ll see you around Harry.” He offered Harry a handsome smile, that sent the younger boy’s heart to his stomach, before disappearing down the corridor. 

“Uh, yeah see ya mate” Harry said lamely as he watched Cedric walk away. His eyes lingered on the older boy’s broad shoulders, admiring the way the light of the candle opera’s lining the hall caramelized Cedric’s hair in their warm light.

Oh shit, Harry thought before walking down his own corridor to the Gryffindor tower, where he practically sprinted to the boy’s dorms.

Oh shit, he thought again on a Wednesday when Harry had spent all of breakfast staring at Cedric’s handsome face across the great hall. 

Oh shit, Harry thought when he caught himself imagining it was Cedric, not Lavender Brown, he was leading around the transfiguration classroom during a weekly dance lesson taught under McGonagall’s watchful eye. 

Oh shit, he thought on a Tuesday when found himself daydreaming all of double potions of walking through Hogsmeade holding Cedric’s hand. 

Oh shit, Harry Potter, the boy who most definitely has an astronomical crush on an older boy with nice eyes and shoulders, whispered to himself after he awoke from a particularly invigorating dream involving Cedric that left his sheet sticky, but his labido satisfied.

“I think,” Harry mused one day in the library, “I fancy Cedric Diggory.”

“What?!” Ron shouted. Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the library shushed him. Ron winced, “What?” he whispered this time. 

Harry fiddled with his quill. “I said, I think I fancy the hell out of Cedric Diggory, I mean I can’t stop thinking about him and his hair and his laugh and his smile.”

“Blimey,” Ron says leaning slightly away from Harry. “You sound like those girls who’ve been mooning over that bloke from The Weird Sisters.” 

Harry slams he head on the table. “I know,” he moans “I don’t know what to do about it.”

Ron offered him a hearty pat on the shoulder, while the rest of the library offered a general harsh encouragement of silence that came strangely in the form of loud shhh-ing.

“Oi! Cool it, the lads having a crisis!” Ron shouts.

“Well do it quietly!” Seamus Finnigan shouted back from somewhere in the depths of the library.

 In response Ron flipped the other boy off, but given he was unsure where Seamus was actually sitting in the library, Ron decided the best course of action was moving his arm in a multitude of directions. Just to make sure he had all of his bases covered. 

“Oh Harry,” Hermione interjected looking up from her charms homework. “Don’t be so dramatic, the way I see it is you’ve got two choices;  do something about your crush, or just suffer in silence until you get over it.” With that she turned back to her homework and Harry lifted his head from the table. 

“Well what are ya gonna do?” Ron asked. 

Harry tugged at his thick dark hair, and thought. “Well,” he started and then paused a beat “I guess, I ought to try asking him out, no since in just sitting about feeling love sick wondering what ifs.”

Ron clapped his back, “that’s the spirit! Now how are you going to do it?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure, how’d Viktor ask you?”

Ron’s cheeks quickly colored like a rose. “Who told you!” he whisper yelled. 

“Oh please Ronald, everyone knows” Hermione scoffed, “Hogwarts is a small school and gossip is cheap, especially when your brothers are selling it.” 

“Fred and George,” Ron said their names like a curse. 

“Yeah, your brothers are right rotten,” Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Now, how did he do it.”

Ron shrugged leaning back in his chair, “I dunno it wasn’t anything special he just sort of asked me, and I-”

“And you thanked him,” Hermione interjected once again. 

“Shut it Hermione!” Ron whispered yelled, tossing a spare quill at Hermione’s bushy head, that the girl expertly dodged. 

“Wait, you thanked him?” Harry asked with a smirk. 

Ron tipped his head toward the ceiling. “I thanked him,” he moaned miserably. 

“So wait, are you actually going to the ball with him?” Harry asked genuinely puzzled, “I mean you didn’t technically say yes.”

Ron righted himself up and shrugged again. “I think so, I mean the other day he asked me what color tie I was wearing so we could match.” The ginger haired boy then turned to Harry looking panicked. “Holy shit I’ve got a date,” Ron breathes “and he wants to match ties...should I get him flowers or something?” He asked latching himself to Harry’s jumper like a frantic cat. 

“I don’t know,” Harry pried Ron off of him. “I don’t even know how to get the bloke I want to go with to go with me , let alone what to do after,” he whisper yelled. 

“Oh honestly!” Hermione exclaimed slamming her quill down exasperated. She pointed to Ron from her place across the table. “Yes,” she sighed “get that poor boy flowers, he deserves them for putting up with you and your frankly pathetic range of emotions, honestly he poured his heart out to you and you thanked the poor lad.”

Ron placed his head in his freckled hands. “I thanked him,” he moaned once again equally as miserable as he was the first time. 

Hermione paid him no mind and turned towards Harry. “If you’re that worried about it Harry, why don’t you call your godfather for advice, you know the man whose been devoted to your Uncle since they were thirteen” she hints while crossing her arms “I’m sure he could offer you some sage wisdom, about the art of wooing other lads, not that I truly believe it will be any different than wooing a bloody girl.” 

Harry nodded. Like most things that leave Hermione’s mouth, what she suggested makes since. “Thanks Hermione,” he says. 

“You’re welcome,” Hermione says picking up her quill once more. “Now, if you two don’t mind and are through whining, I’ve got a charms essay to finish so please for the love of Merlin be quiet.”

Properly chasted Ron and Harry returned to their own homework. It was blissfully quiet until Ron muttered under his breath, “why didn’t she get sushed?”

Hermione groaned, then picked up her stuff and left.         

***

It’s a little after ten and somewhere not far from here Remus Lupin and the man formerly known as Sirius Black are alive and well and fast asleep in a salt worn stone cottage by the sea. 

They are wrapped up in each other and the flannel sheets of their canopy bed. Remus snoring robustly into Sirius’ mane of dark hair, while Sirius in turn breathes softly into the werewolf’s chest. The house rocks with the sea air and down on the shore line waves crash, washing away sand and troubles of the day. 

The night is calm.

Until it’s not. 

A shrill ringing wakes Sirius abruptly from his slumber, dragging him out of very pleasant dream involving the beaches of Greece and Remus Lupin’s mouth. Dazed and now a little crabby Sirius looks around their bedroom a couple of times, before he realizes the noise is coming from downstairs. Grumbling, Sirius untangles himself from his husband and leaves the warmth of their bed to investigate downstairs, stopping only to grab his dressing gown and his wand on the way out. 

He stumbles down the stairs and stops at the bottom to listen for the noise. It only takes a second or so for Sirius to realize that the ungodly noise is coming from their sitting room. So he shuffles that way with his arms crossed mumbling about the loss of his dream, their wooden floors creaking underfoot. Sirius is unconcerned about the noise the boards make, Remus sleeps like the dead and very few things wake him. 

Sirius stumbles into their sitting room where it’s dark and cold and lacking of a certain bookish werewolf. He flicks on the wall light illuminating the mess of the day left behind. Remus’ books and papers sit scattered on the coffee table where he had left them after dinner. Sirius’ knitting sits unfinished tucked into the basket next to his chair. Their Crosby is still loaded with Night at the Opera from when Sirius had decided that after dinner was as good a time as any to swing Remus about the living room and serade him with musical musings of Queen. Among this scene of life is the shrill ringing noise and Sirius begins searching for it so he can properly smash whatever is producing it, and promptly return to bed. He only has a few precious hours left before he has to be on call at Saint Mungo's and would prefer not to waste them losing his sanity over this.  

Sirius starts at the coffee table, gently shuffling around Remus’ papers. When he finds nothing he moves towards his chair and digs through his knitting basket. His fingers graze something cool and metal and decidedly not yarn. With some tugging Sirius unearths a familiar small hand held mirror that is currently screaming. He picks the offending object up and waves his hand across its front. 

Abruptly the ringing stops and his god son’s face appears on the other side of the glass. 

“Harry James Potter, do you have any idea what time it is? This had better be good.” Sirius glared. Normally he wouldn’t be too awfully upset with his godson no matter the hour he called, but Sirius had a pretty miserable 12 hour shift only a little while ago and was due back for another. So needless to say he was a bit grumpy.

Harry blinked at him owlishly. “Er, it’s like ten...I think? Were you already asleep.”

“Yes,” Sirius grouched “I was asleep and you just interrupted a most pleasant dream involving your Uncle Remus-”

“Ew,” Harry wrinkled his nose “that’s my Uncle ta much.”

“-and I have the early-early shift at the hospital in a few hours so unless you desperately need something I will be going back to bed and back to my dream, so to what do I owe the pleasure for your call prongslet” Sirius pressed.

“Oh um… I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Harry tugged at his wild dark hair. “ It’s a er...Godfather problem.”  

Sirius chances a glance to the stairs that he knows leads to where Remus lays warm and asleep and wonders if Harry could wait to solve the secrets to the universe at a different day when he was a little better rested and a little less grumpy. Sirius shifts his gaze back to Harry and eyes him moment. The teenager won’t meet his Godfather’s eyes and is acting shifty, picking at his comforter with what appears to be bitten fingernails. One look at the boy’s posture tells Sirius, that asking the teenager to wait until morning would be close to cruel. Harry looks properly miserable, and a bit confused he decides. 

Sighing he runs a hand through his hair. “A Godfather problem eh? Must be serious” Sirius says with a crooked smile. He settles himself into his chair, pulling his dressing gown tighter around his body and an afghan into his lap. “Well go on, let’s hear it then.”

Harry chuckles and breathes. “Well,” he starts a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “well there’s this um...dance coming up...the Yule Ball...and er...I’ve got a person I want to ask, and well I don’t really know how to go about it. So I thought I ought to ask you for advice, you know you being the self proclaimed romance expert and all” 

Sirius beams at the charged praise and weighs the question, scratching the scruff on his face. “Well,” he begins “it seems simple enough, buy the girl some flowers and use that old Potter charm.” 

Harry nods and averts his gaze. He tugs on the dark hair atop his head. Sirius quirks an eyebrow and waits. “Well the thing is...they’re a bloke.” Harry continues to fidget with his hair and refuses to meet his godfather’s gaze 

Ah. Sirius thought. The older man smiles and says “well, my advice still stands, flowers and the Potter charm and you can’t go wrong.” Harry looks up and locks eyes with his godfather and manages what appears to be a distant third cousin of a smile. 

The teenager sighs. “I wish it were that simple, I mean he’s a bit older and a bit out of my league and I don’t even know if he’s gay...or whatever else there is.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Now Harry James Potter, you’re a right catch and a Gryffindor to boot, so I say just ask the lad and if he says no, then well,” the older man shrugs his shoulders, “that's the worst that could happen.”

Harry bites his lip. Sirius leaned back in his chair. 

“All I know is that I would have given anything to have been able to take your Uncle Remus to the Yule Ball in our day.” Sirius runs a hair through his dark hair, “if you really care about this lad, I wouldn’t let the chance pass you by, I’d at least give it a go and who knows you might be surprised.”

Harry scrunches his nose in thought (a Lily habit) and tugs his ear lobe (a James habit). The teenager nods his head three times rapidly. “Alright,” he says and a second later he looked less sure of himself. “What if I choke?” Harry asked Sirius with wide eyes. 

“Just practice before you ask,” Sirius says shifting his position so he’s sprawled across the chair, his legs hanging over one of the arms rests.

“What do you mean practice?” Harry asks. 

“I mean stand in front of your mirror and practice asking this bloke to the ball before you actually do it, that way you won’t choke.”

“That sounds stupid,” Harry deadpands with an unimpressed look.

“Yes, it does, but it also works,” Sirius stresses. “My fourteen year old self, smooth devil that I was, spent many hours my third year in front of the mirror in our dorm room practicing asking your Uncle Remus out for our first date,” the raven hair gestures around the sitting room, “and now look where I am, married to the love of my life and I would have never gotten there if I hadn’t practiced in the mirror.”  

Harry still looking unconvinced nibbles on his bottom lip, “I dunno.”

“Come on Haz, just give it a shot ya?” Sirius encourages.

The teenager tugs on his thick hair and is silent. So his godfather changes tacktick.

“Don’t want to end up like your old man do ya? Pussy footing around asking my brother out for a proper date huh?” Sirius admonishes with a challenge cock of his eyebrows.

Harry blinks at him and makes a face. “God no,” he says, “the pair of them are down right pitiful.” Sirius barks a laugh. Harry smiles and then he lolls his head back and forth weighing his answer. “Alright,” he says after a bit “I’ll give a go.”

Sirius smiles. “Now that’s a lad!” Harry laughs and leans away sheepishly. Then the pair are quiet for a beat. 

Then Harry says, “ya know Sirius the staff are supposed to chaperon the ball…so I dunno if you wanted to ask a certain Uncle of mine...I mean it’s just an idea…” the teenager trailed off with a marauder like glint in his eye. Sirius barked a laugh, and spared a glance up stairs to where his husband laid asleep. 

“Ah,” Sirius smiles “now there’s an idea.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, mischief tucked in the corners of his mouth. 

“Ought to pass that information to your good for nothing father, maybe he’ll ask a certain potions professor of yours named, Regulus Black, if he can tag along,” Sirius quips smartly.

“I just might,” Harry nods.  

“Now,” Sirius said “it’s very late and we both ought to go to bed, good night prongslet.”

“Night Sirius and thanks,” Harry says sincerely.

“Let me know how it goes!” Sirius hastens to say before the teenager signs off.

“I will,” his godson promises before the mirror goes blank.  

Sirius lingered a moment in the sitting room before dowsing the lamps and tucking the mirror back into his knitting bag by his chair. He climbs the stairs back up to bed, tip-toeing back into the room where Remus was still snoring, tucked under their bed clothes. Sirius stands in the doorway admiring the picture of peace painted with in the room’s four walls. The waning moonlight catching in Remus’ graying curls painting shadows across the bed. The creaking way of the wind and the comforting hum of Remus’ humidifier tucked in the far corner near the werewolf’s side of the bed.

Sirius crosses the room slowly towards their bed, carefully removing the bed clothes to crawl back into the warm cocoon created by his husband. He crawls his way up toward the curve of Remus’ neck and started pressing warm open mouth kisses to the werewolf’s freckled skin. Sirius’ hands start to wander, slipping under the flannel skirt of Remus’ pajamas smoothing his hand up and down the man’s stomach and chest. Feeling the plush pudginess of their age, fingers catching in the coarse curls of Remus’ chest hair. Sirius feels Remus stir under his hands, breath faltering. 

Remus cranes his head to give Sirius’ mouth better access to his neck mumbling, “that feels nice.”

 Sirius complies and continues kissing the column of his husband’s neck, paying special attention to a spot by the ear that he knew made Remus’ toes curl. The raven haired man shifts his body, lodging a leg between Remus’ own and pinning the other man to the bed with his hips.

Sirius’ mouth soon reached his husband’s ear. “Will you go to the Yule ball with me?” he murmured after a few nibbles to Remus’ lobe. 

Remus turned to stare at Sirius with hazy gold eyes. “Huh?” he slurred. Sirius smiled and pressed his lips to Remus’ in a lax kiss.

“I said, will you go to the Yule ball with me?” Sirius whispered when he pulled out of the kiss, “I never got to take you to ours, so I thought it might be nice to take you to this one even if its just to chaperon.”

 Remus blinked. “Well alright,” he says.

Sirius beams. “Oh, this is going to be a riot, we’ll dance, scold children for spiking the punch, and then maybe get up to a little mischief of our own hm?” He says running a wander hand up the inside of Remus’ thigh.

“No,” Remus says now more awake “no, mischief I will technically be working and can’t very well be caught in any compromising positions with my husband by any of the students, or the other faculty for that matter.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he says with a wave of his hand which he quickly placed back on Remus’ thigh.

 “Reckon your wedding robes would still fit? Otherwise we’d have to make time to get you fitted for new ones,” Remus asks. 

“I suppose they ought to, might have to let them out in some areas” Sirius winks patting his stomach. “Not the spry thing I was in my twenties,” he jokes. 

“Oh hush you look great and you know it, right picturesque of the twenty year old punker I married...just with a little more silver around the edges, handsome devil you are” Remus says tenderly carding a hand through Sirius thick as night hair.

“Well Professor Lupin,” Sirius leers moving his hand from Remus’ thigh to begin slowly unbuttoning his husband’s night shirt “you don’t look half bad yourself, fucking loveliest thing to walk this earth, god among men, if I may say.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for you to be feeling this randy?” Remus asks fingers skimming the hem of Sirius’ shorts. Sirius pressed a kiss just so to a spot Remus’ neck electing a gasp from the taller man. 

Sirius removes his mouth from Remus’ neck and shakes his head, “nah it’s only twenty past ten.” He moves his mouth back to Remus’ neck and slips a free hand into the werewolf’s pajama pants.

“Well,” Remus begins “then I must ask Mr. Lupin what were you doing out of bed at this hour?” 

“What I’m always doing,” Sirius shrugs pressing his nose into Remus’ cheek, “looking for trouble.” He wrapped a hand around Remus’ hardening length and gives it a slow tug. 

Remus gasps a laugh. “Well, looks like you’ve found it,” he says and then hauls Sirius in for a deep kiss. 

His breath is tacky with sleep and it’s getting stuffy under the blankets, but Sirius can’t find it in himself to care much. Not when his husband’s mouth is warm and inviting. A familiar tightness starts to pool in his abdomen, when he pulls a quiet moan from Remus’ mouth. Sirius rolls himself completely on top of Remus, removing his hand from the other man’s pajamas so he can properly grind their hips together. Remus lets loose a gut wrenching moan and wraps his long legs around Sirius’ waist and the latter found himself no longer dreaming of Greece, rather living the timeless fantasy of his marital bed until it’s much, much later than 10 o’clock.

***     

Harry made good on his promise to Sirius, and spent a large chuck of his time in front of the mirror in the boy’s loo for the next two days so, asking an imaginary Cedric to the Yule ball. Harry took great care in fabricating multiple scenarios in his head as to how the older boy may respond to asking, just to make sure he was prepared for any response--good or bad--tossed his way. Harry also made sure to practice in the wee hours of the morning, before any of his other dorm mates were up and about. He almost fell asleep in History of Magic twice as a result of this particular precaution, but Binns never really cared too much. In Harry’s mind a few accidental naps, that had saved himself from rounds of merciless boyhood teasing, were totally worth it.

Around the following Monday morning, after many hours of solo practice, Harry decided he was as good as ready to ask Cedric to the ball as he’d ever be. All he was missing was flowers, which were easy enough to nick from the muggle plot of the Herbology garden when Professor Sprout’s back had been turned during his morning lesson. At lunch that same day Harry decided the best time to ask Cedric would probably be at dinner, given Harry rarely saw the older boy outside mealtimes and when the occasionally stumbled upon him in the halls. 

It seemed like a fair plan, until Dinner and a number of problems quickly revealed themselves. Harry was gazing at Cedric and from across the great hall, admiring the way the fading winter sunlight caught in his hair and the way his laugh carried across the entire room. Harry was properly mooning over the older boy, while the rest of the room carried on eating their dinner normally, like they were completely oblivious to the actual angel in their very presence. The angel in question across the hall sipped his pumpkin juice, only to have half of it dribble down his uniform shirt, staining it a pale orange despite his efforts to blot the juice away with a nearby napkin. Harry sighed stupidly and pushed his peas around his plate, visions of him and Cedric twirling about the great hall under the winter moonlight with stray enchanted snow catching in their hair, filled his head.

I have to ask him Harry thought absently pushing some of his peas into his potatoes.

I have to ask him . He thought rising from his place at Gryffindor’s table, grabbing the daisy he was able to snatch from Herbology that afternoon. Green eyes never leaving Cedric, his movements trance-like.  

I have to ask him, right now . Harry thought as he began to walk across the great hall, his wiry legs moving on their own compulsion.

 Around this time, Harry began to realize a prominent flaw in his plan. Cedric Diggory was a popular bastard and always surrounded by a gaggle of friends.The older boy’s kindness and warm smiles acting like a magnet. This genuine warmth of Cedric’s is coincidentally a quality that Harry finds very attractive, ever since Harry first met the older boy back in his third year. Cedric and his kindness, had only gotten more popular since then once he had been crowned Hogwarts’ champion and now practically had a posse that flanked him on either side when he walked to classes. 

This little tidbit had left Harry in a bit of a pickle. Harry couldn’t very well just ask Cedric in front of his friends. His much cooler friends. His friends that would take the piss out of Harry Potter, the boy who is just some random Gryffindor fourth year, in a bloody heartbeat if given the chance. 

What was he to do? The closer Harry’s feet carried him to the Hufflepuff table, the more his journey across the great hall to Cedric felt like a fool’s errand.    

He could ask to speak to Cedric privately , he thought.

That’s reasonable. The piece of his conscience that sounded like Hermione said. 

No, that’s dumb! The part that sounded like Ron said louder. 

Just fucking do it, what are you a man or a lion. The part that was mostly Harry but a tiny bit of Lily roared over the both of them. 

I’m a lion , Harry thought rolling his shoulders back. 

He finally reached the Hufflepuff table, after what felt like ages of walking. Harry’s stomach was in knots and his hands felt clammy where he held the daisy in a death grip. Cedric sat with his back turned to him, weaving his friends a tale about a mishap involving a bogart in his afternoon Defense class. Harry awkwardly stood near them, flexing his free hand compulsively and collecting himself. Cedric and the group of Hufflepuffs didn’t notice his presence. 

“Ce-Cedric,” Harry croaked. The boy in question failed to hear him over the cheerful chatter of the great hall.

Harry cleared his throat. “Cedric,” he tried louder this time, voice cracking terribly on the last syllable of the older boy’s name. The younger boy felt his cheeks heat at the grating sound of his own voice. However, despite Harry’s embarrassment, he now had Cedric’s attention.  

Correction, he now had half of the surrounding Hufflepuffs’ attention, all of whom paused in their dinner conversations to eye Harry curiously. Each and every one of them obviously wondering why a Gryffindor had floated his way over to their neck of the woods.

“Wotcher Harry,” Cedric asked turning fully on his bench to face the younger boy. 

“Well,” Harry began a hand rising to nestle itself in his hair, tugging gently on the top tuffs. “I was wondering…” he trailed off. Cedric’s honey eyes, warm and patience, locked with Harry’s own. The younger boy’s heart stuttered in his chest. 

You are a lion Harry reminded himself. He sighed a shuddering breath, “I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule ball, with...me…” Harry managed to croak out, stiffly thrusting the daisy he’d been carrying at Cedric. 

Cedric blinked at the offered flower and then gazed up at Harry, who managed to offer the older boy a wobbly smile. Cedric’s brows crinkled and Harry could see the rejection on his lips before Eddie Cartwright said anything. 

“Ohh tough break Potter,” Eddie snickered slinging an arm around Cedric. “Ced here is already going with Cho Chang she asked him just this morning, if only ye had been a wee bit quicker and had some... different equipment in your possession,” Eddie smirked “ya might have stood a fighting chance.” 

Scowling Cedric shoved the other boy’s off of him. “Shut it Ed,” he snapped. Eddie held his hands up in surrender, still snickering. 

Harry didn’t pay them any mind. He was looking anywhere but at Cedric, Eddie Cartwright’s words settling heavy in his heart. He looked at a small cluster of Hufflepuffs that offered him a mixture of pitting looks and taunting smirks similar to Cartwright's own. His face flushing, Harry looked down as his trainers which he noticed were terribly scuffed and had the beginning of a hole in the toe and very boyish looking. Harry then shifted his gaze to the flower, now crushed in his own red clay colored hand. His very boyish hand. A hand that Cedric would never want to hold, because it belonged to Harry, who was in fact a boy. Which was fine, but was still a positively crushing piece of information. 

Harry felt his heart squeeze itself until it crumpled to dust, Eddie Cartwright’s snicker echoing in his now hollow chest. It was awful. He had to get out of there. 

“Oh,” Harry shuddered, mortified that his eyes were beginning to sting with the threat of tears. “I see, sorry” he mumbled. 

“Harry,” Cedric said softly starting to rise from his seat. Harry, couldn't handle it. Hearing the rejection from Eddie had been one thing, but he couldn’t handle actually hearing it from Cedric. He practically threw the wilting flower at the older boy and turned quickly away, power walking out of the great hall. Cedric called after him, but Harry ignored him. Once the younger boy cleared the great hall’s doors Harry began high tailing it, running as fast as his legs could carry him, all the way to Remus’ office. 

***

The werewolf was grading papers at his cluttered oak desk when Harry promptly burst in giving Remus quite a fright. Harry felt mildly guilty about his outburst, when the older man threw his grading quill behind him in shock and lept a few dozen centimeters into the air, looking at Harry with a glazed over gaze. Harry could practically hear his Uncle’s heart pounding a panicked rhythm of flashbacks and close calls from the Great Wizarding War, from where he stood in the doorway. Remus visibly relaxed when he realized that the year was in fact not 1970 something, but rather 1994 and the intruder was his nephew, not a death eater.

“Hello Harry, what can I do for you this evening?” Remus breathed rising fully from his desk chair. Harry said nothing back. Instead he shut the door behind him and approached his Uncle slowly, trying to sniffling away tears as his feet shuffled across the scuffed wooden floor. The werewolf eyed the teenager in a mix of confusion and wariness. Once he was an appropriate distance, Harry leaned his forehead against his Uncle’s chest in a way he hadn’t done since before he came to Hogwarts. A few stray tears escaped Harry’s eyes, he rubbed at them in vicious shame.  

Remus’ body stiffened in shock, upon the sudden realization that Harry didn’t need Professor Lupin at that moment, but rather his Moony. Harry wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, locking him into a fierce embrace. The older man relaxed and gently rested his hands on the teenager’s shoulders, rubbing at them in a soothing back and forth motion. “Whatever is the matter? Should I call your Da in” he asked Harry, his voice gentle.  

“He said no, he’s going with some girl instead,” Harry was all he offered Remus in what was a miserable mumble. He burrowed himself deeper into Remus’ tweed coat, further away from his adolescent grief, his heart positively aching. The werewolf obviously confused, wrapped his arms around his nephew, offering Harry comfort which the teenager gladly accepted. Behind them Remus’ fire place roared to life. 

Harry heard the distinct heavy steps of his godfather’s Doc Martens, as the older man stepped through the fireplace. “Hello Moons ready to go--what’s going on here?” Harry heard Sirius asked in a mixture of concern and confusion. His godfather’s steps slowly approached where Harry and Remus locked together. Harry felt Remus offer Sirius a shrug probably accompanied with a wide eyed look of helpless confusion from above the teenager’s head. Sirius rest a gentle hand on Harry’s back in response. 

“What’s wrong pup?” Sirius prodded rubbing Harry’s back. Harry lifted his head from the safety of Remus’ chest, looking at Sirius through tear stained glasses. The teenager wiped at them furiously, sniffling as he did so. Sirius waited for him patiently. 

“I asked him--Cedric--today and he...he said no...he’s going with somebody else...a girl...Cho Chang from Ravenclaw,” He sniffed regaining some control of himself, but not quite ready to leave Remus’ arms. 

Sirius sighed and his eyebrows wrinkled. “Oh Harry,” he said, “I’m so sorry lad.” Harry shrugged, his heart aching

“I’m so confused,” Remus whisper still holding Harry. 

“The pup asked some bloke, Cedric, to the Yule ball and got turned down, because the little bastard is going with somebody else, some bird named Cho Chang from bloody Ravenclaw, so now our pup is positively crushed with heartbreak, for a number of good reasons.” Sirius explained rolling his silver eyes. “Do keep up Moons.” 

Remus grumbled something about being out of the loop. Sirius didn’t pay him much attention, beyond a chaste slap to the head and instructions to quell his complaining, that made Harry chuckle.

Sighing Remus released his godson and moved toward the window sill where an electric kettle sat next to a box of tea and a number of miscellaneous cups. “Now how about I fix us all a cup of tea, and then we can fill old Uncle Remus in on the whole series of events, hm?” 

“There’s an idea,” Sirius grinned.

“Alright,” Harry sniffed.

A moment later the three of them sat on the battered love-seat in Remus’ office clutching warm cups of tea, and Harry told them what happened at dinner recalling the excruciating embarrassment of it all.  

“I just don’t know how I’m gonna to show my face tomorrow, I bloody asked him in front of the entire school, well most of Hufflepuff, but Eddie is a blabber mouth and he’s probably told everyone he knows by now.” Harry grumbled lifting his tea cup to his mouth.  

“Edward Cartwright, in my opinion should keep his disproportionately big mouth shut and his nose out of other people’s business,” Remus commented smartly. Harry chuckled into his tea cup, and Sirius barked a laugh. 

“You’re brutal Moons.” Sirius said, his eyes twinkling. Remus shrugged and sipped his tea. Sirius then turned his attention to Harry. 

“Now pup,” the dark haired man said while setting his tea cup down on a stack of books near the foot of the love-seat, ignoring the sound of dismay emitted from Remus’ throat. “You’ll get through this, just keep your head up and your friends close and you’ll be alright,” Sirius comforted with a hardy pat to Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked into his tea cup doubtful. 

“I’d heed his advice Harry,” Remus interjected “Sirius has survived his own share of embarrassments just the same.” The werewolf rose from his position on the love-seat, picking up both his and Sirius empty cups of tea. Harry watched as he placed them by the window sill to be picked up later for cleaning.  

“Moony is right, did I ever tell you about the first time I tried asking your Uncle out?” Sirius asked drawing the teenager’s attention away from his Uncle. Harry shook his head no. 

“Well it was...what our fourth year love?” Sirius pondered fiddling with his hair, as if he didn’t have the date tattooed on his chest.

“I believe so.” Remus affirmed, moving away from the window to his desk and began reorganizing the papers there. 

“Right, well it was our third year and I was at this point completely smitten with your dear Uncle Moony, and I mean head over tea kettle in love, even doodled little hearts around his name in my notes--”

“I forgot about that,” Remus interrupted fondly from his desk.

“Shh, trying to tell a story here, love” Sirius scolded with no real heat behind his words. “Now, where was I?”

“Your fourth year, head over tea kettle in love” Harry supplied. 

“Right! Thank you, well so as I said I was properly in love with Moons, and one day your Da gave me this brilliant idea to just ask Remus out for a Hogsmeade Saturday, and spend the afternoon wooing him so that he’d fall madly in love with me.” Sirius shifted his position to cross his legs and stretch his arms across the back of the love-seat. “So given I thought it was a right brilliant idea I did just that, had the whole thing planned out in my head, practiced in front of the mirror for days even went and got your Uncle some wild flowers, the kind he liked to roll in with Padfoot during the full moon, I was so sure my plan was going to work that I was already planning our wedding my head.” Sirius shifted his gaze fondly over to Remus, who was now once again grading papers with a small smile on his face, his thumb fiddling with his gold wedding band.    

Sirius turned his attention back to Harry. “Now, I planned on asking Remus when I got a moment of privacy with him, was gonna get Peter and James to clear out of the dorm so I could woo your Uncle properly, but I panicked and cornered him in the middle of a very crowded Gryffindor common room instead.” The older man sighed, scratching at the scruff on his face. “Well you see Harry, I was so very nervous and my stomach was in a jumble of knots, and your Uncle was looking at me with these big beautiful hazel eyes, he was the most definitely the most beautiful thing thirteen year old me had ever seen, well...reckon...he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Sirius mended with a tender look directed toward the werewolf who blushed mildly under his husband’s gaze, Harry made a half hearted gagging noise. Sirius nudged his godson good naturedly. “Anyway, I couldn’t even breathe properly he was so lovely, and like I said I was so nervous I just kind of...choked.” the dark haired man trailed off with a shrug.

“Now Sirius, we are supposed to be teaching Harry how to properly overcome embarrassment, he deserves the full story.” Remus commented waving his quill at Sirius. 

“Fine,” Sirius sighed heavily, Harry looked at him curiously. “Alright so, I didn’t so much choke as I...threw up...all over Remus’ shoes...right in the middle of the Gryffindor common room…before I could even get a bloody word out.” The dark haired man finished weakly, his husband laughing at the memory from his desk.

“Oi shut it, I was right mortified!” Sirius scowled at husband, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You, threw up on him?” Harry gasped, setting his tea cup on the floor. Sirius nodded gravely. “Well, what did you do after?” the teenager prodded shifting to face his godfather fully. 

“He avoided me for a week straight, before I cornered him in the corridor one evening and kissed him,” Remus answered for Sirius, rising from his desk once again moving toward the love-seat. He sits on the edge of the arm near Sirius, who wrapped a securing arm around the werewolf’s waist.

 “We’ve been together since,” Remus says petting Sirius’ head tenderly. 

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t face any amount of teasing after the incident in the common room, half of the school called me ‘Hacking Black’ for a month, but I kept mostly to your Da, Remus, and Peter...and well everything turned out alright.” Sirius said leaning into Remus’ touch, all parties dutifully ignoring the heavy weight around Peter’s name. 

“What we’re trying to say Harry, is this embarrassment will pass and you’ll get through this, just lean on your friends for a bit if you have to.” Remus comforted, his eyes full of love and all the turmoil Harry was feeling within settled a fraction, as he all at once began to feel everything may just turn out well and truthfully fine. 

“And if you need anymore examples, you could owl your Da, his whole Hogwarts’ career was a series of embarrassments in his attempts to woo your mum,” Sirius supplied with a crooked smirk, “I’m sure he’d love a break from chasing down curses in Albania for the Auror department and old mad eye.”

Harry grinned and though that owling his Da didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. He hadn’t heard much from him since he port-keyed to the distant country shortly after Harry had been loaded onto the train. “Thanks,” he said to his uncles, before rising to his feet. Harry figured he really ought to get back to Gryffindor, he imagined Ron and Hermione were looking for him. 

“Of course pup, we’re always here if you need us,” Sirius said and Remus nodded. Harry pulled them both into a final hug before he left the werewolf’s office and crept his way back to Gryffindor's common room, avoiding anybody who was wearing black and yellow.

***

Two days after The Incident, as Ron and Hermione have taken to calling the tragic death of Harry’s dignity and love life, Harry owled James explaining everything.

 In his three page long letter Harry recalled every last bit of adolescent turmoil he had experienced the past month and a half;  from quidditch being canceled and Cedric Diggory. James’ responding owl arrived not two days later with a four page letter; mourning the loss of quidditch for the year, cursing loud mouth teenagers like Eddie Cartwright, and insisting Harry escape the events of the ball by “simply coming home for winter hols and keeping his lonely old man, company” instead of troubling himself with a stupid ball. 

He also sent along a box of chocolate frogs to “help heal the broken heart Cedric Diggory’s careless kindness and handsomeness, left in Harry’s chest.” Harry dutifully followed James’ instructions, by informing Professor McGonagall that he would be returning home for the winter break instead of remaining at Hogwarts and then proceed to eat the entire box of chocolate frogs, with the assistance of Ron and Hermione.      

In the next three weeks leading to the Yule Ball, Harry was the recipient of various taunts--particularly from Draco Malfoy and his goons--fueled by the Hogwarts gossip mill. Also in these three weeks, Harry spent an ample amount of time avoiding Cedric. 

He ceased taking meals in the great hall, instead Harry would either sneak into the kitchen at odd hours or take his meals with either Remus or Regulus in their offices. Neither Professor questioned the sudden increase in visits from the teenager during meal times, which Harry was thankful for. In the halls between classes, Harry would often duck into empty classrooms and behind suits of armour if he caught a glance of Cedric, or anybody from his posse. After a few close calls, Harry began carrying his invisibility cloak in his bag so he could move between classes unseen and without having to plot out a route with the most potential hiding spots.  

Harry told himself that his tack of avoidance was to give his heart an adequate amount of recovery time, not because he was afraid to face Cedric after his very public rejection. Harry James Potter was no coward. 

The Tuesday before Christmas found Harry with his trunk, waiting outside the great hall for his faculty escort into Hogsmeade. The teenager found it strange, standing out in the open after spending a month of playing one sided hide-and-seek with Cedric Diggory. It had him on edge and frantically looking down the corridor every few minutes or so. After about ten minutes of waiting a familiar face appeared at the end of the corridor, and Harry let himself relax a little.  

“Going home for the holidays, Harry?” Regulus asked approaching the teenager, his pale hands stuffed in the pockets of his black robes, a hand knitted green and silver scarf from one Sirius Lupin wrapped around his lean neck. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, Da’s meeting me in Hogsmeade to catch a Portkey back home, you my escort then Professor?” 

“I’m afraid so Harry, here to make sure you won’t get jumped by any shady wizarding folk on the truly perilous walk to Hogsmeade.” Regulus said with a wry grin, Harry offered the Potion’s professor an amused huff.  

Regulus removed a hand from his pockets and with an elegant flick of his wand levitated Harry’s trunk off the castle’s stone floor. “Shall we then?” He asked cocking a dark eyebrow at Harry, who nodded, tightening his own scarf around his neck in preparation for the cold. “Wand on the ready, no telling what sort of foul creatures will be lurking on our journey into town,” Regulus commented leading a smiling Harry out of Hogwarts, the teenager’s trunk trailing behind them.  

They pair of them walked out of the school gates and down the path leading into Hogsmeade in companionable silence for sometime, it was pleasant and Harry enjoyed Regulus’ company and the frigid winter air. “So did you ever get around asking my Da to the Yule Ball?” Harry asked Regulus after a while of walking. 

The older man coughed, his ears taking on a pinkish hue. “Actually, your Da invited me around for Christmas at yours before I got the chance.”

“Oh well sorry?” Harry offered lamely.  

“Oh don’t be Harry, much rather spend the holiday in the company of you and your Da instead of pulling some randy teenagers off each other, hope you don’t mind?” Regulus said with an oddly nervous look in his blue eyes. 

“No of course not! I’m always happy to have you around Reg!  You’re family and all!” Harry frantically waved his hands, trying to assure the Potions professor. It seemed to work, as the nerves left Regulus’ eyes, and his narrow shoulders relaxed some. 

Harry shrugged. “Just...well...thought you’d be a little disappointed that what could have probably been a romantic night of you wooing my Da--”

“Bit pitiful if chaperoning a school dance is what qualifies as a romantic evening at my age--” Regulus ponders, while Harry carriers on. 

“--is now going to be spent with crown poppers and crap telly with a heartbroken teenager and his romantically challenged Da.” Harry finishes with a frown. Regulus shrugs, obviously not as worried about the turn of events as the teenager is.  

“Won’t the rest of the staff get mad at you for skiving out on chaperon duty though?” Harry asked after a beat of silence. 

“No, once Remus announced at the staff meeting two weeks or so ago, that he would be bringing Sirius along, it was agreed that one Black at the ball would be quite enough and I was permitted to go home for Christmas,” Regulus smirked. Harry laughed. 

“I pity the students at ball really, I do believe Sirius will take his chaperon duties quiet, well...seriously, probably to impress Remus in some odd way that make sense in his twisted head...he likely won’t let poor Eddie Cartwright and Cedric Diggory along with their dates out of his sight.” Regulus commented, casting a Harry a knowing gaze. 

“Heard about that did you?” Harry mumbled tugging at his hair. 

“I was suspicious something was off when you started visiting me during tea and lunch more regularly than you have since you were eleven,” Regulus shrugged. “I really caught on when your Da owled me complaining about good for nothing teenage boys breaking his son’s heart.”

“Owl my Da regularly do you Reg?” Harry inquired wiggling his eyebrows.  

“You hush, and stop doing that with your eyebrows! It skeeves me out.” 

In Hogsmeade, Regulus and Harry find James slouched outside The Three Broomsticks, still dressed in his crimson cursebreaker robes, his wild black hair tousled further by the winter wind. “Harry!” James calls joyfully when he spotted his son approaching, he stands up a bit straighter when he realizes who his son is with. 

“He-hey Reg,” James says almost bashfully, frantically fixing his hair. 

“Hello James, how are you” Regulus greets with pink ears and a giddly look about his eyes. It takes James almost too long to respond, his brown eyes foggy, looking at Regulus like he hung the moon. 

“Da,” Harry grumbles, walking to stand at James’ side with a not so subtle kick to the older man’s shin. 

“Oh! I’m er..fine...just got in from Albania a bit ago” James coughs, his brain finally registering that the Potions professor asked him a question. Harry rolls his eyes. 

“How was Albania?” Regulus asked fiddling with his scarf.

“Wasn’t too bad, had a run in with some not so friendly folk but I showed them what’s what, got a couple of scrapes as result but nothing too serious,” James sniffed his chest puffed out like a prideful lion. Harry turned his head away to hide a smirk but could not very well suppress the snort he made, James gave Harry a swift kick to the ass with the side of his boot as a result. 

“But I’m happy to be able to wisk my son home for the holidays,” James continued throwing a friendly arm around his son’s shoulders, Harry leaned into the touch. “You still, good to come by for Christmas?” 

Regulus nodded, “Yes I’ll be by the evening of the twenty-fourth, if that’s still alright? I understand if you’d want some alone time with your son”

“Yes of course it is! I just know Sirius and Remus weren’t able to get away until late Christmas eve...wasn’t sure if you were in the same boat…” 

“As I was telling Harry on our walk down here, much of the Hogwarts staff agreed that one Black at the Yule Ball will be enough,” Regulus smirked.

“Er...well...right...brilliant! Look forward to seeing you then!” James practically shouts, a hand moving to tuff at his wild tufts of hair. 

“I as well,” Regulus murmured with that still look in his eyes. James just stared at Regulus, his brown eyes glazing over once again. 

After a moment the Potions professor pulled a pocket watch from his cloak and checked the time. Regulus cleared his throat. “While I ought, to be getting back to the castle, have to help with the preparations for the twenty-fourth, safe travels you two.” 

“See you Reg,” Harry and James said simultaneously.

The Potions professor waved and began retreating back to the castle. James’ brown eyes remained on Regulus’ retreating form, a soft sigh escaped his mouth. Harry stuck a finger into his mouth and made a retching noise. James shook his head, the fog retreating from his eyes, he moved to clap Harry on the back of the head. 

“You’re both pathetic,” Harry smirked expertly dodging James’ hand.

“Shut up sprog” James smirked a blush on his cheeks. “Come on, we’ve got a Portkey to catch.”  

***

Despite Sirius’ initial assumptions, his old wedding robes fit like a glove. The black fabric of the robes cut in pleasant slick lines that made Sirius appear taller and accented his broad shoulders brilliantly--if he did say so himself. The stiff white dress shirt button snuggly into his neck in a way that vaguely reminded Sirius of series of terrible family dinners from yester years past. Even the black slacks still fit spectacular, hugging his legs and ass just so that Sirius was positive Remus’ eyes were going to be following him all night long. He felt like a right classic picture of elegance and it was putting him in an excellent mood.

 “Ha! You were right my robes still fit, I’m right fit bastard I am Moons!” The dark haired man cheered from where he stood, admiring himself in his and Remus’ bedroom closet mirror. 

“Glad to hear it Pads!” Remus called from behind the bathroom door. Sirius grinned smugly and reached for the red tie he left resting on their bed, he wrapped it around his neck and then wrestled with it for a good two minutes. 

“Remus honey, could you please help me with my tie!?” Sirius sighed frustrated. 

“Just a second love!”

He heard the water in the bathroom shut off and his husband emerged shortly later, wrapped in a towel and with a generous amount of shaving cream smeared all over his narrow face. Water drips rolled off his tall frame, landing on their plush maroon carpet in dark splotches creating a series of clean constellations. When he got closer Sirius could smell the spice and cedar of Remus’ deodorant mingling with the clean smell of their soap. 

“Thirty three years on this earth and you still don’t know how to tie a bloody tie?” Remus scolds reaching for the silk around Sirius’ neck. “Not like you could use magic to tie it, not we’re like we’re wizards or anything, no that would be ridiculous.” 

     "I mean I could tie it with magic, but I much prefer having your hands all over me instead, my love.” Sirius leered, a hand straying to tug gently on the knot of Remus’ towel. The werewolf was quick to bat his hand away.

“Now, none of that we don’t have the time,” he says knotting Sirius’ tie expertly with nimble fingers. 

“Forgive me love, but I can hardly help myself when you come out here looking like that,” Sirius growls tugging Remus’ closer to him so their bodies are flush together. 

“I have half a bottle of shaving cream on my face, and all the good bits you’re after are tucked away in one of our rattiest towels, how on earth can you possibly be turned on right now?” Remus balked.

“Remus love, you always turn me on, besides all your bits are the good bits, the best bits even.” Sirius cooed pressing a gentle kiss to Remus’ bare shoulder.

“Sap,” the werewolf grumbled. 

“Only for you my Moonshine.” Sirius mouth trailed the length of Remus’ shoulder, a hand gliding down the werewolf’s backside to grasp at the plush flesh through the rough fabric of their admittedly rattiest towel.

“I’m serious Pads we don’t have the time.” Remus protested, half heartedly pushing Sirius away some, his hands lingering on the dark haired man’s chest. “I’ve got to finish shaving, and see if my robes still fit,” Remus pulled away from Sirius a little more to stare down at his pudgy stomach. “Unlike you, I’ve put on quite a bit of weight since our wedding, you know?” 

Sirius did know, but frankly did not think much about it. In his eyes Remus was positively radiant. A downright stunning man. No mattered if his sharp edges had rounded some with age. He often believed his husband to be sunshine incarnate, especially when the man smiled or laughed in such a way his hazel eyes crinkled around the edges and his dimples appeared. Sometimes Sirius couldn’t believe he was given such explicit permission to bask in the warmth of his better half produced.

“Nonsense, you’re fit as all hell love, bloody gorgeous.” Sirius murmured pulling Remus back to him, so his husband’s body was once against flushed against his own.    

Remus scoffed.“I blame the wolfsbane really, don’t burn nearly as many calories as I used to when transforming, but I eat nearly as much...any way I’ve got to give myself time in case I’ve got to let my robes out some-oh!” The werewolf gasped when Sirius rubbed their groins together, seeking a delicious friction that had them both shuttering with desire. Sirius eased himself onto his tip toes, dragging his lean body along Remus’ towering frame. Once their heights leveled he gingerly took Remus’ earlobe into his mouth and nibbling at the flushed flesh. Remus moaned, his hands seeking out any bit of Sirius he could grasp. They finally landed on the Sirius’ waist and tugged him impossibly closer. 

“Come on Moonshine, you and I both know your robes will fit just fine and we’ve got plenty of time, I promise we won’t be late, won’t take more than thirty minutes, I swear. Just need to get all the mischief out now before, I am to put on my adult pants to police a bunch of randy teenagers.” Sirius lowered his lips to mouth at curve of Remus’ neck, taking care to avoid the patches of shaving cream scattered there.

 “Come on Moons--” He sucked a hickey into the flesh of his love’s neck, in a safe place easily hidden. “Let me fuck you” Sirius growled positively canine like into Remus’ warm skin. The final touch to Sirius seductive dance, was letting a hand ever so gently wander down towards Remus’ towel once more, to palm his husbands’ half erect cock through the rough fabric of the towel, that was still unfortunately wrapped securely around his waist. When Remus’ hips canted into his touch groaning lowly, Sirius slowly lowered himself down to his normal height, smirking knowing at that moment he won.

“Let me finish shaving, and make it twenty minutes and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Remus conceded pulling away from Sirius once more. The werewolf bent his head low and kissed Sirius cheek wetly, before turning away from the man completely. Remus sashayed to the bathroom, fully aware that Sirius’ eyes would be following his hips intently. Just as the werewolf reached the threshold of the bathroom door, he unwrapped the towel from his waist and dropped onto the carpet, where it landed with a soft thump. He offered Sirius a sultry look over his bare shoulder, before disappearing into their bathroom, that had the dark haired man chasing after his husband with a low groan escaping his throat.

Sirius made good on his promise...mostly. 

He initially kept to his permitted twenty minutes ravishing his beautiful husband on the bedroom floor;  kissing him positively everywhere, and delivering a truly spectular blow job, all while three of his lean fingers were crooked just so to hit Remus’ prostate with each thrust of Sirius’ hand. Then in a matter of minutes Sirius freed his own throbbing cock and was thrusting vigorously into Remus from behind, with his dress pants halfway down his thighs while his husband clawed at the carpet desperately, his hoarse voice filling their bedroom with positively beautiful sounds. The sex was hot and quick and dirty and made Sirius feel like he was seventeen again, which was in some way very fitting given in a matter of forty-five minutes or so he was about to live out a teenage fantasy of taking the love of his life to a school dance. 

Soon Remus came with a shout of Sirius’ name that could’ve been heard all the way in London, and Sirius followed in suit with a guttural groan into Remus’ mussed hair. Sirius rolled off of him and they spent another minute laying on the floor, catching their breath. Sirius spared a glance at Remus, who was positively glowing with spit slick lips, flushed freckled skin, and mussed honey colored hair. 

Sirius leaned over and gave the werewolf a chaste kiss and then they helped each other off the floor. Remus rubbed his right knee while grumbling about age ruining the joys of good old fashion floor sex before walking toward their closet to get dressed. While Remus put on his own old wedding dress robes that were a near matching set to Sirius’ own black ones, Sirius busied himself with pulling his pants up, fixing his hair, and casting a number of dewrinkling charms onto his own robes to hide the evidence of their quick little romp on the floor. 

All was going according to plan until Sirius got a good look at Remus in the reflection of the closet mirror, and Merlin wasn’t he just a sight. The classic black robes fit him handsomely cutting his figure in a very flattering way, which Sirius knew they would do thanks to the re-sizing charms he casted on them while Remus did the shopping last weekend. His husband’s hair lay in lazy graying curls, that was in it’s own right effortlessly gorgeous. Then there were the gold cuff links that Sirius knew had their initials engraved into them. A wedding present from Lily, a final present really before she died, before the cancer took her from them shortly after the war. They glinted in the yellow light of their room, fitting the white dress shirt attractively around Remus’ thin wrists, an academic’s wrists Sirius had called them often and fondly. 

 Sirius crept behind Remus as he was looping his own tie--a silk gold number to complement Sirius’ own crimson--around his neck. Sirius wrapped his arms loosely around Remus’ waist and angled his body so his head was resting against the curved of his husband’s shoulder and allowed him a perfect view of their reflection in the mirror. When Remus finished with his tie, he rested his hands over Sirius’ and sighed contently, leaning back into Sirius’ embrace. 

The pair of them standing like this, is sight so unforgettably familiar, it’s like spinning a time turner. Like someone had plucked a photo right from their wedding album, and just added a few wrinkles and bit of graying hair here and there, before planting it in the mirror.

“I love you,” Remus said firm and honest, locking eyes with Sirius in the mirror, and oh the raw emotion there in those hazel eyes, well that did Sirius in it did. Completely derailed their plans for punctuality, those eyes did. They made Sirius pull Remus tighter to his chest and murmur, his own declaration of love before he was overcome with a very specific urge to sway with Remus, locked together just as they were now, while he hummed their wedding song--Queen’s “I Was Born to Love You,” of course--while pressing feather light kisses to Remus’ shoulder. 

An urge he acted on post haste.

An urge that delayed them by an additional ten minutes, because of course those shoulder kisses soon turned into mouth kisses and if Sirius had learned anything in all his years, it is that rushing mouth kisses with one Remus Lupin was positively the stupidest thing he could do. Kisses with Remus, each and every one of them, were to be cherished as the gift they were. No matter the circumstances.  

Not ten minutes later, Sirius and Remus were rushing into the great hall, which was glamorously decadent in white and silver garnishes hung about the wall. The four great tables were replaced with a number of smaller tables with glittering white table cloths that were scattered about the room, framing a vacanent piece of floor that Sirius assumed would be used for dancing at some point in the night. Chandeliers of silver were floating just under the ceiling, which was open to the night sky and charmed that snowflakes fell close to the floor before dissolving into thin air. It was all brilliant and romantic. 

Not that Sirius had much time to appreciate the splendor given Remus was urgently dragging him through the room by his shirt sleeve towards where the rest of the chaperons stood clustered together--McGonagall giving directions at the center of it all--by the raised faculty table at the back of the room.

Remus quick steps had Sirius stumbling after his husband. “Rem, love please slow down my decidedly shorter legs can’t quite keep pace with yours.” Sirius complaining to said husband. 

“No, we are so late,” Remus said, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that!” 

“We’re only two minutes late! and besides I didn’t hear any complaints earlier when I had you pinned to the floor with my cock up-” 

“Shut it!” Remus snapped at him, his ears now matching Sirius’ tie.

“Professor Lupin and Mr. Black! So good of you to grace us with your presence,” Professor McGonagall called from the center of the faculty gathering, drawing both men’s attention.

“Terribly sorry Professor McGonagall,” Remus mumbled looking remarkably similar to a properly scolded adolescent boy, with his head hung low and eyes at his feet. 

“Sorry Professor! My fault really couldn’t get my hair to set right, and you very well know it’s Mr. Lupin now, or Healer Lupin if you’re lurking about Saint Mungo’s, or Sirius if you’re feeling friendly this evening Minerva.” Sirius said with a charming grin.

  McGonagall chuckled with a shake of her head. “Of course, please forgive me Sirius, old habits die hard” she said with a friendly twinkle in her eye. She then turned her attention to the entire group, and began the process of dishing out jobs.

“Hold out for a good one Moons,” Sirius whispered to Remus who offered the other man a slight nod of affirmation accompanied with a fond eye roll.  

“Now,” McGonagall began, taking a piece of parchment out of the pocket of her burgundy dress robes. “The students will soon be gathering outside the great hall, I will need a volunteer making sure they don’t over crowd the corridors so that other students who are not of age to be at the ball, may easily make their way to the kitchen for dinner. Any takers? Very good Hagrid, thank you very much.” 

A quill appeared and made a check to the list. 

“Next, I will need volunteers to help direct students to tables once they are permitted inside the hall. Volunteers? Thank you Pomona, and someone else?  Ah yes thank you Professor Flitwick.”

 Another check. 

“Now I’ll be leading the champions into the hall, for the opening dance, once everyone has been seated,” McGonagall said more to herself than the group before her. “After that is dinner, and then the ball will be in full swing, which leads us to our final task...about mid way through the ball I’ll need a pair to be patrolling the grounds, and breaking up any...non-sanctioned activities any students maybe up to, are there any takers?”

“That’s it, that’s the one Moons,” Sirius whispered gleefully shaking Remus’ left arm. The werewolf rolled his eyes at Sirius but raised his hand nonetheless, “we’ll take that one Minerva.”

“Thank you...Lupins.” The quill made a check and disappeared with a puff of smoke along with the parchment. “The rest of you will be floaters so just help out where need be, now are there any questions?” McGongall asked folding her hands in front of her. 

Sirius’ hand immediately popped up. “Yeah, how come none of the Beauxbatons or Durmstrang faculty are here helping us out with this shindig?” He asked before McGongall had the chance to address him, hand falling immediately back to his side. 

“Given we are hosting this...shindig as you put it Mr. Lupin, it would be proper that we carry out all the duties for the evening and make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible, Now are there anymore questions?”

“Yeah one more, where is the good Headmaster Dumbledore this evening?” Sirius asked. McGongall sighed. 

“He has decided to dine with the underage students who weren’t able to go home for the holidays, and keep them company. He will join us later in the evening, now are there any more questions? Sirius? No? Good, please follow me Hagrid I’m sure we will soon have quite the hoard waiting outside those doors for us, the rest of you please be near your stations at the ready.” With that McGonagall picked up her shirts and out the great hall door, with Hagrid at her heels.

Given Remus and Sirius had nothing to do until about mid-way through the ball, they made their way up to the faculty table and claimed seats there. Sirius was quickly able to coerce Remus into a game of footies that soon evolved into a competition of who could push the other out of their chair first, which ended when Professor Sprout casted them a withering look of disapproval--that could have easily rival McGonagall’s--from across the great hall. Then they spent the next five minutes reminiscing about their days at Hogwarts, Remus’ arm casually tossed over the back of Sirius’ chair, his finger idly playing with the other man’s dark locks. 

Soon the doors opened and students began flowing through, Sprout and Flitwick quick to direct them to vacant tables to be seated and await the beginning of the festivities. Each professor vastly different in their technique, but equally effective in their tasks with the assistance of a scattering of different faculty members. Sprout was much more gentle and demur in her method of corralling students, where Flitwick was more vocal. 

“Right this way, right this way!” the stoutly Charms professor bellowed, or at least attempted to. “Now, any table is a good table--Messer and Messer Weasley I know those wouldn’t happen to be muggle whoopie cousins tucked in your pockets? Hand them over, thank you very much! Right this way, right this way!” Sirius could hear Flitwick’s crackling call from where he and Remus sat across the room. He chuckled and turned to Remus.

 “I’ll never understand how such a little man, can possibly make so much noise!” Sirius whispers, earning a sharp laugh from his husband. 

The crowd of students are seated, and filling the hall with loud chatter that has Sirius’ ears ringing. Flitwick, Sprout, and Hagrid join them at the faculty table as they await for McGonagall to reappear with the three champions and their dates in tow. The waiting is making Sirius fidgety, his leg bounces up and down rapidly and his thumb fiddles with his wedding ring. Remus’ hand falls gently on his knee, stilling it’s movement. “Easy Pads,” the werewolf whispered with the hint of a smile on his lips. Sirius huffed a sigh and allowed the weight of Remus’ palm settle him.

After what seemed like forever McGonagall appears with the champions trailing after her in pairs, Sirius was quick to spot a familiar head of flaming red hair attached to the willow like body of one Ron Weasley. He had no clue who the other five teenagers were.

Sirius leaned in close to Remus--who ducked his head obligingly--so his mouth was almost touching the other man’s ear. “Alright, I do believe I’ve spotted our very own Ron Weasley, but who are the rest of them.”

Remus nodded at the dark haired stocky boy that was stiffly attached to Ron’s arm. “The one with Ron is Viktor Krum, he’s the Durmstrang champion, and I must say I do think that the poor lad is head over tea kettle for our favorite Weasley,” he whispered to Sirius.

“But Fred and George are over there,” Sirius smirked into the skin of Remus cheek. 

“Oh you hush, Ron’s not even over here for you to properly poke fun at, anyway the blonde in blue is Fleur Delacour, she’s from Beauxbatons, and the lad with her is I believe Davies.”

“Is Davies his first name or last name?” inquired Sirius, with a cock of his eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“Remus! You should really know the name of your students, what kind of professor are you,” Sirius gasped quietly, the hint of good natured wickedness tucked in between his teeth. 

“I do know the names of my students!” Remus insisted. “Well most of them...I only really remember the name of the students I like... and well Davies is a bit of a know at all...which is the kind of student I hate, anyways...the last set would be Messer Cedric Diggory and Messes Cho Chang.”

Sirius eyes landed on the last pair of students, entering the room. Cedric Diggory a near contrast to his partner Cho Chang, in statue and expression. Where Diggory is on the taller side and fairly broad shouldered, Chang is petite and narrow in every aspect right down to her tiny mouth which was pulled into a pleasant smile. The pair appeared to be a near perfect balance of opposites but in a way that Sirius found unsettling. Like they did not so much compliment each other, but were severely unbalanced. 

“He’s a handsome bloke...for well you know a teenager...can see why Harry likes him, he’s got that whole summer time handsomeness about him…all warm yellow tones and what not, too bad he’s a prat, our Harry’s too good for him.” Sirius expressed to Remus, his mouth turning into a mild frown in remembrance of the events that transpired in the werewolf’s office a few weeks prior.

Remus shook his head and made a noise of disagreement. “He’s actually a good lad, it’s Eddie Cartwright that’s the prat remember?” 

“Oh that right! Where’s that fucker?” Sirius spat, gray eyes scanning the sea of students before him. 

“Sirius!” Remus scolded. 

“Oh sorry, where’s that punk?” Sirius tried again. 

“He’s doesn’t appear to be here yet, looks like your plans of harassment won’t be happening this early in the evening.”

“Ah blast,” Sirius grumbled. 

A gradual silence falls upon the hall as each pair takes a place in the center of the dance floor, assuming a stiff posture of preparedness for what Sirius assumes will be some kind of formal waltz. Sirius leaned back into his chair folding his hands on the table, a cello struck up from somewhere in the hall and the students began to dance. 

Krum leads Ron about the floor in a siff waltz; their chest nearly pressed together, a warm smile on his square face, and eyes looking at the red head like he hung the moon by just letting the Durmstrang boy hold him. Sirius watches them amused, by how Ron keeps tripping over his feet and giraffe like limbs, trying to desperately keep time with the music. Krum says something to Ron, that causes the boy’s face to turn red as his hair and take a minuscule step closer to the other boy. They look cozy and shy in a way that reminds Sirius so much of him and Remus when they were in school. 

On a different end of the dance floor Davies and Delacour appear to be having an actual proper dance, with the way the pair easily glides across the floor effortlessly weaving around the other two pairs. Except where Ron and Krum appeared to be having a splendid time in each other's company, Delacour look as if she is about to commit murder if Davies keeps chatting her ear off they way he is at the moment. Sirius grinned and shifted his gaze to where the final couple was occupying the dance floor.

Diggory leads Chang about the floor with a stiff back and enough space between them Sirius could easily toss a quaffle through the hoop their locking arms make. There’s a cheerlessness about the teenager’s handsome face, as he refuses to look at Chang, in favor of scanning the room frantically. Almost as if he was searching for something...or someone. 

Sirius’ brows furrowed in though. “Curious he mumbled,” under his breath.

“Hm?” Remus inquires turning away from the dance floor to look as Sirius.

 The dark haired man gestured to where Diggory was stiffly twirling Chang about the dance floor, a frown on his face. “That is what is curious my dear Moonshine.”

Remus looks away from Sirius once again, to watch Diggory and Chang a moment. “It seems, Mr. Diggory is looking for something...or perhaps someone?”

 Sirius nodded his hand rubbing his wedding ring with his thumb in thought.

***

In Godric’s Hollow, a most pleasant yellow light was pouring from windows’ of the Potter’s red brick cottage near the end of the cul-de-sac, and an even more pleasant aroma was wafering from the kitchen inside. 

The Potter’s kitchen is a warm space, love occupying every crack in the wooden floorboards. It’s walls are burnt orange in color, with cream colored crown moulding. A stove straight from the mid twentieth century occupied the back wall, proudly tucked between the icebox and the pantry. The sink, located under the bay window the adjacent wall, was a free standing deep basin thing and was the color of a cracked egg with a spout that rattled in an unsettling way when turned on in the wee hours of the winter mornings. Various culinary utensils, from pots to soup ladles, are hung from a low ceiling while the rest of the kitchen is stored in wooden cupboards adoring the walls.    

Inside the kitchen, Regulus stands at the stove, dressed in a wool emerald green sweater and a Christmas apron James got as a gag gift from Sirius their first year out of Hogwarts. He stirs a boiling pot of savory smelling stew, adding spices here and there as he deems fit. James hovers close by, attempting to ‘assist’ the other man with food prep, by making various vegetables waltz around the countertops. Harry Potter, the boy who is quite content at this very moment, sat at the round oak table at the center of the room reading Treasure Island out loud while the adults cook, per Potter family holiday tradition.  

“James Potter, if you would be so kind as to stop making the carrots dance, that would be most helpful to the task of finishing dinner,” Harry heard Regulus scold. The teenager paused in his reading, lifting his green eyed gaze from the page.  

James, in response to Regulus, made the carrots--who were formerly doing the tango--march around the rim of the soup pot, before commanding them with a flick of his wand to swan dive into the boiling stew in the same fashion as a synchronized swimming troop. 

Regulus gave him and unimpressed look, that reminded Harry so much of Hermione in some odd way. “Close enough,” he muttered while plucking the pepper shaker from the spice rack. The Potions professor shook the spices into the pot in the same meticulous caring matter he would add chopped Wolfsbane blooms to Remus’ monthly potion. He stirred the spoon three times, before lifting it to his mouth for a taste. He made a noise and then offered a taste to James. 

James stepped into Regulus space, and slurped the stew from the proffered spoon. He wrapped a gentle arm around Regulus’ narrow waist, bringing the other man close to his side. James press a soft kiss to Regulus cheek, Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the actions of blatant intimacy, but he made no comment. 

“That taste brilliant Reg,” the older Potter praised causing Regulus to blush and mumble an embarrassed thanks, turning back to the stew.

“Should only be a few more minutes,” Regulus muttered adding a handful of chives to the stew.

James, keeping an arm around Regulus’ waist, craned his neck to look at Harry. “Come on Haz,” he said, nodding to the book in Harry’s hand “keep reading! You’re getting to the best part.” Harry rolled his eyes choosing to ignore the way James’ hand began running short strokes up and down Regulus’ side, and began to read once more. A chapter later and Regulus announced that the stew was finished. 

James set the oak table, while Harry left the kitchen to return the novel to the bookshelf in his room, when he returned Regulus was dishing out hearty helpings of stew served with warm brown hunks of bread. 

Suddenly feeling famished, Harry immediately tucked into his stew with James following suit. The Potter’s ate in a sloppy fashion that Harry knew would have earned a scolding from Remus, and had Regulus eyeing them with a degree of disgust. Not caring, Harry continued to eat the stew before him with vigor because it was fantastic, all hunks of heavenly rich beef, savory gravy, and soft vegetables. It stuck to his insides in such a pleasantly warm way Harry felt as if he would never feel hungry again.

“Merlin this is amazing,” Harry moaned ripping off a chunk of bread to mop up some of the stew in his bowl. Harry then proceeded to shove the stew covered piece of bread into his mouth. 

 James made a noise of delight, while devouring his own bowl of stew.“I didn’t know you could cook Reg,” the senior Potter said with his mouthful. 

“I learned during the war, when I was spying for The Order, Voldemort often sent me on long and gruesome recruitment missions that left me without the posh pureblood luxuries I grew up with, and I didn’t exactly trust the death eaters and their kitchen staff to pack me a lunch for these missions, so I took to preparing meals to take with me while I floated between missions,” Regulus said ripping a piece of his own bread. “I started with easy things to transport like soups, stews, and sandwiches and then after the war I just kind of kept with it, I can even make a decent roast now.” Regulus dunked his bread into the stew before him, and then when it was properly soaked, popped the soggy bread dantianly into his mouth.

“Well, you’re right brilliant at it you should work for me as a live in chef,” James says pointing his stew spoon at Regulus, “Harry and I mostly live on take away and mooching off of Remus’ amenable to cooking, when he pops over every now and then.”

“Well unfortunately for you, I am attached to my current position at Hogwarts,” Regulus smirks, and then a little more quietly he says “but I-I’d love to make dinner for you sometime.”

“I’d like that,” James murmured and then returned to devouring his stew. 

Oh brother, Harry thought his eyes rolling. 

They quickly finished their first bowls of stew, and then each had an additional two before they declared they simple could not eat anymore. Regulus rose slowly from his chair with a stretch and began to clear the dishes away depositing them into the sink. The man then stood at the deep sink rolling up his sweater sleeves, he picked up the sponge and declared that he would do the washing up. 

“Oh no you won’t! You already made dinner, there’s no way you’re doing the dishes too, you’re our guest” James protested attempting to snatch the sponge from Regulus’ hand, but the Potions’ professor was too quick. 

“Please, this is the first Christmas I’ve gotten to spend here in sometime, and I hardly get to do anything as pleasantly domestic-” 

“Well it’s your own fault you know,” James said once again trying to snatch the sponge away, but once again Regulus was too quick. “You’re invited every year for the holidays, but every year you choose to stay at school-”

“I always felt my students needed the company, especially those whose reluctant to return home during breaks, do to lingering prejudices held by families from both sides of the war-”

“Yes, yes all very noble, but circling back to the matter at hand, now that I have you here I don’t intend to let you do the dishes, especially after you’ve already made dinner, wouldn’t be proper.” James turned away from Regulus to look at Harry. “Tell him Haz,” he said. 

Harry held up his hands. “Hey as long as I’m not the one doing the dishes I don’t particularly have an opinion one way or the other.” James glares at him positively betrayed, he turns back to Regulus.

“You’d make Sirius or Remus, do the dishes.” Regulus counters, pointing a long pale finger at James. 

“He’s got a point Da,” Harry says leaning back in his chair. James waves a dismissive hand at him, letting the teenager know he was decidedly being unhelpful at that moment.

“Yes, well that’s because the-they’re Sirius and Remus--” James sputtered.

“So, am I not of the same familiar caliber then? A lesser fiticture because I do not frequently appear on the holidays due to my sense of duty to my students? Demoted quickly to a similar level of kinship that an odd third cousin, who on occasion send’s Harry a birthday card or two every couple of years? Is that what you’re saying hmm?” Regulus says, his blue eyes glassy with hurt. 

James quickly placed a gentle hand on Regulus shoulder, and stepped a millimeter closer to the other man. “No! Of course not Reg, you’re the same caliber of family as either of them! We understand you can’t always be around for the holidays, don’t you know that? I thought you knew that...”

Regulus lifted the hand that wasn’t currently clutching the sponge, to rest gingerly on James’ cheek that was the same red-clay as Harry’s. “Yes, I’m quite aware which is why I’ll be doing the washing up,” he patted James cheek and turned back to the sink and flicked the on faucet with an elegant wave of his hand. “Now why don’t you and Harry get that film thing you were talking about started, and I’ll be right out” Regulus said rolling up his sleeves. 

James stared at the Potions professor puzzled, “but...wait...what?” 

Harry rolled his eyes and rose from his chair. “Oh come on Da, just let the man do the dishes.” He said dragging James out of the kitchen.

“What just happened?” James muttered on their way out. 

“You went toe-toe with a Slytherine and lost,” Harry chuckled. 

Harry drags James into the sitting room and leaves him at the couch to browse their video cabinet near their small muggle telly. Harry crouches on the red shag carpet and pulls open the small oak cupboard, behind him he can hear James settle into their well loved suede sofa with a sigh. The teenager scans the titles of the Potter movie collection, before finding the one he was after. Pulling Die Hard from the cabinet, Harry shuffles on his knees to the telly nearby, in between two windows and a cluster of colored fairy lights. He pops the movie into their VCR. Once the trailers begin to roll, Harry rises to his feet and then settles himself into their recliner that had been strategically placed between the sofa and their overly decorated Christmas tree. 

They made a cozy picture;  the warm yellow glow of a fire behind them, colored fairy lights dancing about the ceiling, and the lamps turned down low. Harry sighed contently and kicked the recliner back, this is decidely way better than some stupid dance he thought as he did this. The teenager spared a glance to James, who was looking back into the kitchen with a fond expressions. 

“So what was that earlier?” Harry asked.

James turned to look at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. “What, was what?” He asked. 

“With Reg earlier, you kissed his cheek and you kept touching him and now you’re mooning after him like a school boy.” Harry said checking points off on his fingers. 

“That’s rich coming from you, a school boy.”

“But you see Da, my mooning is age appropriate yours is not.”

“I don’t moon-”

“Da come on, what’s up.”

James sighed and tugged at his dark hair. “If you must know...Reg and I’ve been on a couple of dates recently, and they’ve been...good...very good.”

Harry thought caught by surprise, offered James a toothy grin. “Right on Da, so is he your boyfriend then?”

James made a sheepish face. “Er, no haven’t really asked him yet.”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean asked him?”

“Well Harry when you’re a grown up, just because you go on a couple of dates with somebody doesn’t necessarily mean your dating...at least not exclusively...usually you have to ask the other person to be your boyfriend or girlfriend,” James explained kindly. 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Well, then why haven’t you asked him yet?”

“I’m not really sure...if he’s well...interested.”

The teenager contorted his face into something akin to disbelief and unamused. “Oh come off it Da, have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you’ve swallowed the sun or something romantic like that from Uncle Moony’s mouldy muggle books.” He threw his hands into the air. “Not to mention he’s agreed to a least two dates with you...so why are you dragging your feet Da?”

James sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes, moving his glasses to rest in his hair. At this moment, Harry found that his father aged by at least ten years while managing to look as vulnerable as an eleven year old. “I dunno...I just haven’t been with anyone since your Mum, I’m not sure I quite know how to be a proper boyfriend anymore...and I suppose that makes me a little skittish.”

Harry sighed. “Da’s, he’s not some random bloke ya know, he’s well...he’s Reg we’ve known him for at least forever.”

James leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Which is what frightens me most.”

“Some Gryffindor you are,” Harry muttered crossing his arms.

James looked at his son wide eyed, “ Hari James Potter! ” he scolded in sharp Hindi. 

Harry winced at the use of his full name. “Sorry Da,” he apologized, “it’s just I know it’s Reg Da, but shouldn’t that be a reason why it might work out, opposed to why it wouldn’t? Either way I don’t think it’s very fair of you to be dragging your feet and leading Reg on.”

James sighed and shook his head, a chuckle running down his back. “You know, you sounded just like your Mum just then, face and all.” He leaned back into the back of the sofa with a twinkle in his eye, “alright I’ll ask him.” Harry beamed. 

Just as the opening credits were starting to roll, Regulus emerged from the kitchen three cups of hot chocolate trailing behind him. James patted the cushion next to him and Regulus settled in, tucking his feet underneath him, the cups floating towards their intended owners.

Harry met his cup half way, mumbling “ta much” when the warm ceramic met his hands. 

He turned his attention to the telly, but heard James whisper something to Regulus who then in turn whispered something else back. Out of the corner of his eye Harry caught the motion of James tossing his arm over the back of the sofa and Regulus leaning into his touch. Harry smiled into his cup. 

A while later their cups were drained, Bruce Willis has saved New York in typical explosive fashion, and Harry is decidedly feeling quite groggy. When the ending credits start rolling up the screen, Harry sits up and stretches reaching his arms to the ceiling, while taking in a deep breath feeling at the moment fairly cat like. Next to him James yawns in a growlie way befitting a lion, and Regulus make no noise because he’s already asleep, his dark head nestled into James’ shoulder. Harry raises out of the recliner, stretching again once fully on his feet. He walks over to turn off the telly,  movements slow like molasses, and the VCR. 

“Well I do think it’s time for bed,” James said rubbing his eyes. Harry nodded in agreement, rubbing his own eyes and yawning so wide his jaw cracks. 

James chuckles. “You look like a python when you yawn, jaw all open and what not,” he says merrily. Harry falls out of the yawn and easily into a laugh, that startles Regulus awake. 

The Potions professor blinks slowly and smacks his lips. “Wa’s so funny?” he asked, squinting at the Potters. 

James shakes his head. “Nothing Reg,” he says, “Harry’s just channeling his inner Slytherin.”

Regulus nods, his lips pulling into a groggy smirk. “Good for him,” he murmured before leaning back into James’ shoulder, fully intending to fall back asleep. 

“Oh no you don’t!” James said shaking Regulus awake. The Potions professor groaned, obviously displeased, the older Potter ignored him. “Come on Reg, up you get, you’ll be far more comfortable in a bed, come on then,” James said hauling Regulus to his feet. He then turned toward Harry, “Haz can you be a lad, and batten down the hatches down here, and turn out the sofa for your uncles yeah?”

Harry nodded, “sure thing Da.”

“Ta son,” James said dragging a reluctant Regulus up the stairs. 

“Night Da,” Harry said after their retreating forms.

 He waited for the sound of bedroom doors shutting, before setting about his task. Padding into the kitchen the first thing he did was bolt lock the front door, and shut the curtains. He then plugged in the night lamp into the outlet near the toaster, it’s fisherman shape lighting a warm yellow. Satisfied, Harry left the kitchen flicking the overhead lights off on his way out. He set about the sofa next, clearing the coffee table away, to unfold the bed. 

The metal skeleton of the bed gave an ear splitting creak when Harry freed it, and settled heavily on the Potter’s plush carpet. Pulling spare linens and blankets from a chest kept in the corner of the living room, Harry then made the bed. He tucked a nearly ancient fitted flannel sheet around the admittedly shotty mattress and piled on three thick blankets to keep out the chill while hopefully adding comfort, lastly he then tossed on a couple of pillows for good measure. Once through, Harry douse the fire place and ascended the stairs, leaving the living room lights on for when Remus and Sirius came stumbling in later in the wee hours of the morning.

Harry, crept past James’ room, and the occupied guest room to reach his own at the end of the hall, only stopping in his journey once at the loo to brush his teeth. Harry entered his room slowly, letting the door shut gently behind him. Not bothering to turn on the light, he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to some corner of the room and then struggled out of his sweatshirt tossing it in the same direction as his pants, leaving him in just his pants, a white undershirt, and a pair of tube socks. Harry shuffled towards his bed, being mindful of the various piles of books, stray quidditch gear, and piles of clothes littering his floor. He climbed under the bed, with wide yawn, after setting his glasses on the bedside table Harry then promptly fell into an easy sleep.

Harry awoke the next morning to the smell of frying bacon, and Remus snoring straight through the floorboards. He dozed for another handful of minutes, before his stomach growled deciding for Harry it was time to get up. The teenager sat up in bed rubbing at his eyes and then stretched his long arms toward the ceiling, humming as his back cracked pleasantly. He smacked his lips and rested his glasses on his nose, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Harry then spent a few minutes picking through the laundry scattered about the floor, for a pair of sweatpants. He picked through three pairs of questionable pants, smelling each until he found a soft black pair that were a little short around the ankles and wouldn’t get him a scolding about hygiene from James. 

Harry crept down the stairs and swiftly made his way toward the kitchen casting a wayward glance to the sofa, where his uncles slumbered on contently wrapped around each other tucked under layers of blankets. He chuckled when Sirius unconsciously shifted in his sleep away from Remus, only to have the werewolf grumble and snake his arm more securely around his husband’s waist, successfully holding him in place.

In the kitchen Harry found Regulus at the stove top frying pieces of bacon and a couple of eggs respectively, and James sitting at the table reading the paper, an empty plate and a cup of tea nearby. Both still in their pajamas and looking fairly domestic. 

“Morning Harry, Happy Christmas” Regulus greeted warmly from his place at the stove, he cracked another two eggs into the frying pan with his left hand and with his right flicked his wand toward the tea kettle. “Tea?” Regulus asked floating a freshly made cup Harry’s way. 

The teenager nodded with a grin, “Happy Christmas,” he said gingerly taking the cup and settled himself in the seat across from James. 

James handed, Harry a pen and a half finished daily crossword. “Happy Christmas son, give that ago, number 24 down was right tricky” the older Potter said taking a sip from his tea cup. 

“Happy Christmas Da,” Harry grinned pulling the paper and pen towards him. 

He was puzzling through number 12 across, when Regulus paused in his cooking and asked “I don’t understand how my brother can just sleep through that racket .” The Potions professor looked toward the living room with a positively puzzled expression on his face, and then set a steaming plate of eggs and bacon in front of Harry that the teenager tucked into immediately. “I wouldn’t be able to do it myself, probably would have casted a number of silencing spells on the man ages ago.” Regulus then said returning to the counter to pour himself a cup of tea.

“We used to,” James said folding the paper and setting it on the table. “Back when we all used to room together at Hogwarts, first spell Sirius, Peter, and I learned after our first night ever was muffliato ,” the elder Potter continued with a grin, “it worked splendidly for awhile but the tricky thing with that spell is that it only really works one way, so when Sirius and Remus started sharing a bed while Peter and I heard not a peep, but poor Padfoot got the brunt of the noise.” 

James sipped his tea, “felt bad for the sod those first few months, he looked like a right zombie shuffling from class to class with a dead look about his eyes and Moony was no better sulking in the library feeling guilty about something he couldn’t help. The whole thing actually led to a number of rows between them, I asked Sirius once why he didn’t just sleep in his own bed again and he said something stupidly romantic can’t quite remember what it was--”

“I told you, that if I planned on sharing a bed with the man for the rest of my life I ought to just to get used to the noise now rather than having to figure it out later.” 

The kitchen’s occupants jumped and whipped their heads around to face the newcomer. Sirius shuffled into the kitchen shirtless baring his tattoos proudly (poinsettias blooming in a festive fashion around the intricate ‘R.J.L’ inked on the skin above his heart), pajama pants slung low on his hips, and his dark hair tied in a loose knot at the back of his head. 

“I actually got more than used to it I reckon, can’t sleep well without that tosser buzzing logs right into my ear, it’s funnily enough far too quiet otherwise.” Sirius said pouring himself a cup of tea. He then leaned against the counter, smirking around his cup and crossing his ankles.

“You fucking sap,” James smirked.

“Yes well that’s what love will do to you, not like you and Lily were much better.” Sirius shot back sipping his tea.  

“Morning Sirius, Happy Christmas” Regulus said serving up another plate of breakfast and handing it to his older brother.

“Happy Christmas Reg...you know, I don’t think I ever get over you, a pure blood who grew up being fed by a house elf with a silver spoon, being able to cook anything decent.” Sirius commented, snatching the plate of food and settling into a chair next to Harry. 

“You grew up with the same spoon, you know” Regulus said, making his own plate and settling into a chair next to James. 

“But you see brother dear, I still can’t cook worth a damn so in a wild turn of events I’m more of a proper pure blood wizard than you.” Sirius said before shoving a large chuck of egg into his mouth, yoke oozed down his chin. 

James barked a laugh. 

Regulus mouth twisted into something akin to disgust. “Yes, between the two of us, you the man who shacked up with his half-blooded werewolf lover and promptly told our Mother to ‘go fuck herself,’ wins the ‘whose most pureblood’ competition any day,” he said dryly handing his brother a napkin. Sirius nodded his thanks. Harry smiled while munching on a piece of bacon and returned to the crossword.

 A moment later the house was filled with blessed silence, as Remus had stopped snoring and once again joined the waking world. 

The werewolf shuffled into the kitchen, making his presence known when he knocked on the top of his forehead against the archway. “Ow,” Remus grumbled mirisably. 

Sirius turned in his chair to look at his husband. “Morning love, Happy Christmas” greeted the werewolf. Everyone else, turned their attention to Remus who now stood in a matching flannel onsomble rubbing his forehead, looking scraggly with the start of a decent amount of scruff on his face and hay color hair bedraggled. 

“Happy Christmas,” the remaining occupants of the Potter’s kitchen table choursed grinning. 

Remus squinted at them in response. 

The werewolf walked the rest of the way into the kitchen, flipping his hair out of his face. He walked over to the stove and made himself a plate, sloppily piling eggs and the rest of the bacon in a greasy heap. Once through, he plopped down in the last spare chair between James and Sirius, and tucked into his breakfast. Half way through his eggs, Remus looked around the table with a puzzled look on his face. Sensing what his husband was searching for, Sirius floated over a cup of tea over to his husband, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. Remus hummed his thanks, Sirius tosses a casual arm over the back of the werewolf’s chair.

“Is that the crossword?” Sirius asked Harry, who nodded. “Let’s see it then,” the dark haired man said. 

The teenager handed the paper over to his godfather. “10 across is bloody impossible, even though it’s only four spaces” he grumbled pushing the rest of his eggs around his plate. Sirius brought the paper close to his face, squinting at the puzzle before him. 

Sirius studied the paper while making thoughtful noise. The dark haired man then turned to his husband, who was munching happily on bacon and looking a bit more chipper. 

Sirius shoved the paper into Remus’ face. 

“What do you think sweetheart?” Sirius asked. 

Remus swallowed and scanned the paper, “I believe the word is kern” he said after a while. “I also believe, you need reading glasses if you have to hold the paper that close to your face to read it properly,” he added as an afterthought. Sirius scoffed handing the paper back to Harry, who laughed writing the answer in the blank spaces. 

“Old age hasn’t been kind to you brother mine,” Regulus smirked. 

“Reg’s right, soon we’ll have to check you into a home,” James added earning a laugh from all parties, except Sirius who chose to swat at the elder Potter instead. James expertly dodged Sirius swing. Changing tactics, Sirius kicked at James’ shins instead, this time the other man wasn’t to dodge the attack. However, James was not one to back down from a fight so of course he kicked Sirius back, which lead to an aggressive game of ‘who can kick, who harder.’  

“Can we please not rough house at the table, or at least while I’m eating for that matter,” Remus groused lifting his tea cup off the table, which shook under Sirius and James war. The elder Potter made one last kick at Sirius beforing ceasing his assaults, and with a pointed look from his husband the other man did the same.

Remus and Regulus sighed, in such a suffering way it prompted Harry to giggle into his tea. The Potions professor, leaned back in his chair. “So how was chaperoning the ball last night you two?” He asked further derailing Sirius and James’ juvenile feud. 

Sirius shrugged. “It was all rather dull, desert was good thought, and I got to swing Remus about the dance floor a couple of times which was nice, ya know reliving my school days and all that.” The dark haired man lifted his tea cup to his mouth. “We did have the pleasure of catching one Eddie Cartwright in the bushes behind the great hall with his pants down, with some lass from Ravenclaw, Moons gave him a proper one two.” Sirius smirked, looking at his husband fondly. 

Harry turned to look at his Uncle, not even attempting to pretend that he did not perk up a smidge at the news of Cartwright getting in trouble. 

Remus shrugged. “Wasn’t like it was very difficult, Sirius and I spent much of our time in Hogwarts sneaking about in dark corners, that little bugger thought he was gonna pull a fast one on old Professor Lupin...well he had another thing coming.” He said shoveling a large helping of eggs into his mouth. The remaining occupants of the table chuckled.

“I found the most entertaining bit of the night was when that Bulgarian lad was swinging, our very own Weasley about the dance floor...it was awkward as all hell, but in a charming sort of way.” Remus added swallowing his eggs. “Mark my words, those two will marry, and then we’ll get to watch them awkwardly sway about at their wedding.” 

Harry nodded in agreement. The pair were positively smitten with each other, and fully anticipated attending a Weasley-Krum wedding in the future. That’s if of course, Ron ever develops any sort of emotional intuitiveness beyond the capacity of a tablespoon, which would be something of a miracle.

“What I thought was the most interesting part of the evening, how miserable that Diggory lad looked dancing with that Chang girl,” Sirius said looking at Harry, who was now very pointedly not looking at his godfather. 

“That so?” James asked, a degree of curiosity in his voice his brown eyes glancing at Harry who found a new interest in his nearly empty plate, and who was most certainly not interested in any information to do with Cedric Diggory.

Sirius made a noise of affirmation, his gaze shifting from Harry to look at James. “Look down right cheerless the lad did, kept looking around didn’t really pay much attention to Chang at all.”

“That is curious,” said Regulus, before he rose to start clearing the table of everything besides the air that was now heavy with implication, that even Harry in all of his obliviousness understood. 

The teenager made no comment on it. Silence lingered as the adults at the table looked at Harry while trying their hardest to appear they weren’t looking at Harry. Harry in turn was looking everywhere at once, attempting to appear that he did not notice he was being so overtly watched. 

After awhile Remus said something about a round of pickup Qudditch in the snow later, and then the traffic of conversation moved on to other things that were most certainly not about Cedric Diggory and his supposedly miserably time at the ball. For which Harry was most grateful, but was something he thought about all throughout the pick up game, presents, dinner, and then while he laid awake in his bed that evening. 

***  

Once Harry returned to Hogwarts, it occurred to him he had forgotten a number of things. To do an essay for Herbology for one and his one sided game of hide-and-seek with Cedric for another. 

He realized the former when Professor Sprout had stood over his desk expectantly, after the rest of his class had handed in two feet worth of drobble about the properties of gillyweed, while Harry had just looked sheepish and dumbstruck all at one. He realized the latter, when immediately after Herbology, Cedric Diggory had caught sight of Harry in the corridor between classes.

The Hufflepuff, had stared at him from down the corridor, his face one of disbelief. As if he couldn’t believe, after two months, Harry Potter stood not a meter a way. The Gryffindor in response, adapted a survival technique of refusing to move a muscle in hopes that Cedric may perceive him to be one of the castle’s many strange statues, and then carry on his merry way. As far from Harry as possible. Harry and Cedric stared at each other for a full minute.

“Harry?” Cedric had asked, squinting at the other teen’s lanky form. Harry blinked, still refusing to move.

“Oi, Harry! Hermione and I are heading to grab lunch, you coming?!” Ron had called from another end of the corridor.

“No, I’ve got a meeting with Remus in about ten! I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Harry responded automatically, still gazing at Cedric, who’s eyes had widened.

“Alright see ya later then mate,” Ron waved before disappearing in the mob of students heading to the great hall for lunch. Soon, the corridor was void of all life, except for Harry and Cedric. The elder Hufflepuff took a half a step closer to the younger, in a way one would approach a skittish animal. 

“Harry?” Cedric asked again.

“Bugger this,” Harry cursed before bolting down the corridor, as fast as possible.        

“Harry! Wait!” the elder boy had called, before taking off after him.

They ran through the corridor at breakneck speed until, dodging stray students and professors with the expertise of juvenile quidditch players, which they were of course. Cedric pursued Harry all the way out of the castle and the snow covered grounds near the frosty lake, calling his name desperately the entire chase. The Grffiyndor was concocting a plan of running all the way down the Forbidden Forest and losing the persistent Hufflepuff in the thickets, and maybe if he was lucky the centaurs would take pity on him and allow Harry to live among them so he would never have face Cedric Digory ever again. 

His plan of living out the rest of his days in the forest with the centaurs was quickly derailed when Cedric casted a jelly legs jinx, causing Harry to trip and crumple into a heap, falling gracelessly into a snow drift. 

Cedric caught up to him shortly after casting the jinx. However, the Hufflepuff horribly miscalculated how far apart in the chase the pair of them were, causing him to trip and land on top of the younger teen. The pair of them groaned in pain, Harry huffed a couple of Welish curses Remus unknowingly taught him. 

Cedric pulled himself off of Harry, and leaned over the Gryffindor. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, sweat damp hair falling in his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Harry said at first, but then it occurred to him it was most certainly not fine. He was all kinds of wet, uncomfortable, and trapped in the folds of heavy snow and under a hefty weight of attractive teenage boy against his will, it was most certainly not fine.

 He scowled and fixed his glasses, which had gone skew in his tumble. “Actually, no it’s not fine! What the hell mate?!” he barked. 

Cedric flinched. “I said I was sorry,” he mumbled, not making and moves to get up. They breathed in puffing breathes that froze in the cold air, green eyes steadfast holding honey brown. 

“Where’ve you been Harry, why’d you run from me?” the Hufflepuff asked with more than a hint of melancholy in his voice. Enough to make Harry feel a smidge guilty, afterall before everything, Cedric first and foremost had been his mate. 

“Let me up,” Harry demanded with a sigh. Cedric did not budge, a trace of fear in his eyes. “I won’t run away again,” Harry said, “Now let me up...please Ced.” Cedric moved off of Harry and plopped down next to him in the snow, the Gryffindor rose to a sitting position, his bones creaking unpleasantly. They sat like this side by side, quietly staring at the rolling white hills of the school grounds and the cutting silhouette of the castle against the gray winter sky. It felt like ages before either of them spoke again, Cedric was the first to break the silence. 

“You know,” he breathed shakily “I wanted to take you to the ball.” 

Harry whipped his head away from the sencery to stare at Cedric, “what?” he gawked. 

Cedric shrugged “I wanted to take you to the ball, I had planned on asking you...got you chocolates and everything,” he whispered, turning his head to face Harry. 

“But...I don’t understand...Cartwright said--”

“Cartwright doesn’t know shite,” Cedric snapped fiercely. Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, he had never heard the Hufflepuff raise his voice at anybody off the quidditch pitch. Cedric removed his gaze from Harry to scowl at the snow. The pair fell silent a moment, Harry drew patterns in the snow with the toes of his destroyed trainers. 

“Why...why didn’t you?” Harry whispered after awhile. 

Cedric offered another shrugged, “heard from somebody you were going with Hermione...and then Cho asked a couple of days later...and I said yes...and then...the great hall happened, and you had gotten me flowers--”

“Well, it was more accurately one flower.”

“--and had asked me and oh Harry I wanted so badly to say yes…Harry...I’m so sorry” the Hufflepuff finished with a watery sigh, that had Harry’s heart swelling and leaning in to press a swift kiss to Cedric’s cold cheek. The Gryffindor’s own cheeks were warm and Cedric was looking at him with those beautiful eyes of his, when he pulled away. 

Harry swallowed and rolled his shoulder’s back mustering up what was left of his Gryffindor courage. “Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, be my date...be my boyfriend” he said with every ounce of bravado he could. “Please Ced,” he tacked on as an afterthought.

Cedric blinked at him, twice and then smiled a shy sort of thing. “I’d like that very much Harry Potter,” he whispered and then he kissed him. 

Just once. 

Just soft enough for Harry to fall into it with a sighing sound, his green eyes drooping shut. 

Just long enough for Harry to know every kiss with Cedric after would feel like this, to wonder if Cedric would want to marry in the spring, to ponder on whether their sons (two of them, both with Cedric’s eyes) would take a fancy to flying, and if Cedric would fancy retiring many years later in a small cottage by the sea. 

The kiss was just enough of an apology and a promise of tomorrow that, Harry, in that moment couldn’t care less about his soaked through trousers, numbs hands, and that Cho freaking Chang had the privilege to swing Cedric about the dance floor not a week ago because in the end Harry had a fabulously optimistic feeling that he would always have the last dance. Would always be the one kissing Cedric Diggory (hopefully Cedric Diggory-Potter) at the end of the night. The preceding events were merely troubles of youth that led him here, to this single blissful catalytic moment; Cedric’s mouth on his and the winter breeze tousling their hair.