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“Maybe you’d get a boyfriend if you stopped trying to explode the school.”
“Wilbur, I don’t think you understand how cool explosions are.”
“You are hanging out with Sapnap too much.”
“Merlin, no. You’re just that boring.”
“For not wanting to explode my face to bits? Yeah, sure, I’m boring and you’re a dead man.”
“Please, it’s not going to blow up on my face, I’m a careful man, y’know?”
It does, in fact, explode on his face.
How muggles managed to make explosives without any magic to help them will forever be a wonder to the pink haired student. Sure, in theory it’s just mixing up a few things that together go “boom”, but he just can’t get it. And Techno’s so close too! Granted, making a bomb out of magical items available to a sixth year with an average income—not necessarily his case, but he does enjoy a challenge—without using magic might not have been the brightest idea, but he figured he could work it out.
Apparently, he can’t.
Techno sighs, a dragged out sigh of silent suffering, and allows his body to relax. He probably shouldn’t, being too close to the Forbidden Forest for comfort—the only place he wouldn’t put anyone in danger, including his patience with humanity—, but at the moment even death by centaurs would be a blessing. So the student lays down on the grass where he fell when his project had failed and launched him backwards, pink hair a mess around him—please, Merlin, don’t let it be burned, it’s his pride and joy—, limbs spread out like a starfish. The clouds in the sky keep moving calmly, none the wiser of his failure.
Footsteps can be heard nearby, crunching the prickly grass, and the teen lets out another heavy sigh, closing his eyes.
Please be a centaur and not Skeppy.
Or Tommy. Please, whoever is up there, let it be Voldemort even, but not Tommy. He’s not in the mood for dealing with the loud third year.
“If I were a centaur, I’d stomp you with my hooves.”
Oh, Merlin, he knows that voice.
“That’s comforting.”
A wheezy laughter comes from his uninvited company, and Techno can’t take it anymore. Snapping his eyes open, the first thing he sees is blond hair, long and wild, then a pointy smirk, freckled cheeks and finally piercing green eyes filled with amusement.
“Dream.”
“Technoblade.”
Technoblade is unsure if he wants to be swallowed by the ground or stolen by a rogue hippogriff as his cheeks color and his heart slams itself on his ribcage like a goddamn maniac.
Six months ago, he would not have that reaction to the Slytherin.
Dream was a bit of a celebrity during their first year. Muggle-born Slytherins are not common in the slightest. People were so curious about the boy he even started wearing a mask every time he could get away with it, if only to hide his expressive eyes from prying bastards. As the hype around him died down in the following years, Dream stopped wearing his mask, which wasn’t a problem for Technoblade of six months ago. Technoblade had not paid much attention to him back then, more worried about not keeping his family’s good name by getting in Hufflepuff—honestly, he likes to remember the way his father got huffy when he found out his dear son wasn’t in Gryffindor.
The problem is that Technoblade of today is hopelessly infatuated with the blond Slytherin. To the point some of his friends noticed. It’s pathetic and humiliating how this boy can reduce the best duelist in Hogwarts to goo with a simple look.
But go ask his heart if it cares.
A traitor, that’s what his heart is.
“Trying to explode yourself to smithereens?”
“At this point, might as well.”
Dream snorts, smirk softening with fondness, or so Techno dearly hopes because if there is something he can admit is that he loves when the blond looks at him with that rare softness he usually reserves to his friends. The other sixth year walks around the teen sprawled on the floor, making a spectacle of avoiding Techno’s limbs by raising his legs stupidly high. Dream has a habit of not wearing his robes whenever he can, since it can restrain his movements and he is the parkour boy—some day the teachers will have a heart attack watching the boy do dangerous tricks in the castle’s old architecture—, so the pinkett can see the white button up with the sleeves folded up to his elbows, the undone tie and the few buttons open. He also can see the tight pants and the belt with many charms dangling from its chain.
The boy was most likely breaking school rules by running around the Forbidden Forest. It’s common knowledge in Hogwarts that Dream knows the sinisters ways of the woods, even if no one can find actual proof of him ever being there—they have tried, specially the teachers.
“You should be more careful, Techno.”
“That’s gold coming from you.” Techno huffs, sitting up. Running a hand through his hair, he’s glad to find it intact, except for the band, probably having snapped with the force of his… launch. “I’m a very careful man, not my fault the Universe isn’t careful with me.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to ask the Universe to go easier on you.”
In a blink, Dream is crouching right in front of the Hufflepuff, freckled nose just an inch away from Techno’s. The blond’s breathing hits the pinkett’s face in a gentle caress, and green eyes pin him where he sits. The expression in the other’s face is indescriptible, it almost feels like he’s wearing that damned mask again, but the look in his eyes is searching.
Dream wants something and Technoblade can’t tell what.
He hopes it’s a kiss, though, because Dream’s lips have no business looking so kissable while being a mere inch or two away from his own.
“It’d be a shame if your pretty face scarred before this weekend.”
This weekend…?
This weekend…!
“Try not to explode yourself to bits, Techno.” Dream smirks, playfully blowing hot air on the pinkett’s face before swiftly walking away.
Badboyhalo, the Hufflepuff Prefect, finds Technoblade sprawled on the ground at that very same place hours later, surrounded by crispy grass and painted head to toe with a fierce blush.
“And why exactly are we avoiding Dream like he’s Voldemort reincarnated?”
“Because, Wilbur, our Technoblade here is having a gay crisis and is too much of a disaster to do something about it.”
“Shut your mouth, Tommy.”
So what if Technoblade has been avoiding a certain green eyed blond the entire day? It’s not illegal to avoid people. No one can tell him that what he’s doing is wrong. He isn’t doing anything wrong. He’s just avoiding his crush to the best of his abilities. You’d think the fact he’s a Hufflepuff and his crush is a Slytherin would play in his favor, but, as always, the Universe doesn’t seem to get the memo. Or the Universe is just that much of an ass. Probably got the memo and threw it away.
The fact is: avoiding Dream is not easy at all.
And Techno has the suspicion that the blond is actually making it harder by always being where the pinkett is. He doesn’t approach, sometimes he doesn’t even seem aware that Techno is in the same room as him, but it’s too much of coincidence that Dream and his friends are everywhere Techno and his friends go in the enormous place that is Hogwarts.
“He asks you out on a date and you avoid the poor guy like the plague, a blunt ‘no’ would be more merciful.” Wilbur comments from where he’s sitting besides Techno, near the lake, somehow his voice sounds both smug and bored.
“One, I don’t actually know if he asked me out. Two, I’m not avoiding him because I’m not interested, I’m just…”
“... panicking because you don’t know if it’s a date?” At Techno’s hesitant nod, Wilbur sighs tiredly. “You could just ask him.”
“Oh, yes, and what will he say?” Tommy pipes in, looking up from the homework he definitely should have completed already. “‘Hey, this is going to sound weird, but I’ve been pining for months now and really need to know if you actually asked me out before I have a heart attack or Wilbur kills me for being a coward’?”
“I’m not a coward!”
The answer he gets is two identical unimpressed stares. He should have blown himself to bits when he had the chance, talking about his love life with his friends is a terrible way to go. Techno sighs, bringing his knees up to his chin. It doesn’t take long for him to feel an arm wrap around him, and he goes without fuss when Wilbur brings him to rest on the curve of the Ravenclaw’s neck. A hand clumsily pats one of his knees, Tommy’s forte is not comforting people but doesn’t mean the Gryffindor won’t try. Say what you want about Wilbur and Tommy, the truth is that they are good friends.
“I never thought I’d see you in love… not like this, at least. I was so certain you would be really blunt and upfront about it when the time came.” The other sixth year gently runs his hand through the long pink hair. “Never thought you’d be so cute.”
“Same. And I had no idea Big D was your type,” the younger boy shrugs, hand still on Techno’s knee, “I mean, he’s pretty cool, but he’s a bastard.”
“That he is.” The tone of his voice is embarrassingly fond, but Techno couldn’t care less. “I wanna kiss his stupid smirk off of his pretty face when he gets all cocky. I think he’d blush like crazy if I did it in public.”
“Too much information, man. Spare us your fantasies.”
“One day, Tommy, you’ll have a crush on someone and I will relish in teasing you. It’ll be one of the highlights of my life to see you go through all of this. I’ll learn how to operate a muggle phone so I can record it.”
“How can you say that out loud but can’t ask Dream out?”
“Because, Wilbur, admitting to you that I want to kiss that stupid blonde until we fuse together and actually asking him to do it are two different things. You two at most are going to make fun of me, but if Dream rejects me—!”
He cuts himself off, leaning heavily on his friend. The mere idea of being rejected by the other boy is way too much for his poor heart. What if things between them get too weird and Dream distances himself? What if Dream never wants to look at Techno’s face again? Or, worse, what if he rejects Techno and in his weakness, Techno stays friends with Dream and is forced to watch as Dream falls in love with someone else and be happy without him?
“Good thing he won’t, then.” Bad’s voice snaps the teen out of his thoughts. The Prefect is staring at him like he is the most amusing puppy doing the cutest tricks in the book and the pinkett has to say he isn’t particularly fond of that look.
Wait.
“What?”
“My God, you muffin. Dream is panicking right now, wondering if he should be more direct or if he is being rejected via silent treatment, so I suggest you actually go tell him you’ll go to Hogsmeade this weekend with him as a date.”
“Big D can panic?”
“Oh, God, is he making poor George listen to his rambling?”
Techno technically is hearing his friends talking. Is he actually listening to them? Not really, no. His mind is racing together with his heart with scenarios of them having a date in Hogsmeade. Maybe they can hold hands? Maybe huddle together as they get a butterbeer?
Suddenly, Technoblade’s processing power is redirected to the fantasy of him cleaning off some beer foam from Dream’s lips, red eyes locked with green, freckled cheeks red with the heat, kissable lips available for taking.
“Technoblade!” Bad’s sudden exclamation makes the pinkett crash back into reality. He blinks owlishly, shaking his head a little, hearing the Prefect’s exasperated chuckling. “Goodness, you’re really in love, aren’t you?”
And suddenly something clicks into place inside Techno’s mind and he’s lost to his friends yet again. If his heart could scoff, it probably would at how long it took his mind to finally assimilate the obvious.
He’s in love with Dream.
In practice, knowing that Dream feels the same, or at least something similar, as him should make things easier.
And that is exactly why Techno waits another day before he actually does something. Why antagonize the Universe and its assholery, right? He can afford to suffer for another day, right?
Right?
Wrong.
Because the next day, today, is Quidditch day, and if you think you have seen Techno pining, you clearly have never seen Dream during Quidditch days.
With his blonde hair wilder than ever, intelligent green eyes burning with determination, an impossibly wide smile on his face, hollering and whooping as he flies in his broom and does unnecessary maneuvers just because he can. Dream flying is one of the most breathtaking things Techno has ever seen, the boy is one with the broom and the wind, made for the freedom of flight.
“Dream is so cool~!”
“I want to ask him out so badly, but his friends step in as soon as I try to talk to him.”
Of course, Technoblade is not the only one in school who can see how great Dream is. Since the pinkett doesn’t play in his house team, preferring to watch from the bleachers with a good book in hand if the game ever starts to drag, he’s subjected to hearing all types of gossiping and fangirling. And it doesn’t matter where he sits, he’s bound to end up hearing some of the catcher’s simps talking about how much they want to get Dream’s attention.
Which, y’know, definitely good for Techno’s jealousy.
“They would stop saying that if he got a boyfriend.”
“What are you doing here?”
Sapnap looks at the Hufflepuff with an unimpressed stare scarily similar to the one Wilbur and Tommy gave him yesterday. With a huff, he looks down at his arm, bringing Techno’s attention to the cast. Oh, yeah, now he remembers. The black-haired fifth year had an accident earlier in the week, a prank that backfired, and as a “lesson” he has to wait for it to heal naturally. That explains why he’s sitting near Techno instead of kicking Hufflepuff’s butt with Dream in the skies.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” The boy snorts before sighing. “Question. Are you serious about liking Dream?”
The sixth year is not even going to ask how Sapnap knows about his crush. He doesn’t want to know.
“Is this a shovel talk?”
“It’ll be a shovel attack if I don’t like your answer, Technoblade.”
“Merlin, calm down.” The Hufflepuff… well, huffs, resting his chin on hands, his elbows digging the softer flesh of his thighs.
He stares at Dream for a few seconds. The sun hits the dirty blonde hair, making it look like it’s enchanted, and the boy keeps having to push his wavy bangs out of the way. Green eyes are sweeping through the entire stadium, quick like a predator. He’s hovering in the air now, which is very uncommon for Dream, but only means he’s about to pull some incredible stunt to almost give everyone a heart attack and give his team the victory.
Techno finds himself guiltily wanting Dream to win the game for Slytherin, if only to see the freckled teen smile so brightly the sun will probably feel threatened.
“Yeah…” He finally answers in an airy tone. “I love him.”
“Well, shit, how am I supposed to beat you up when you make the exact same face as Dream does when he’s looking at you?”
“He looks at me?”
The look Sapnap gives him is so filled with exasperation and disbelief, Techno just wants to hide his head in a hole and become one with nature. Nothing to see here, just an ostrich crushing on the handsomest asshole to ever grace Hogwarts’ grounds.
“Dude, he’s been in love with you for three years now! He practically cried when Wilbur told us you had a crush on him.”
“Dream is what? And Wilbur did what?!”
“We figured neither of you would confess if the chance of getting rejected was too high, so Wilbur told Dream about your feelings and Bed told you about Dream’s feelings… Which means you can go confess to him without problems!” Sapnap fistbumps the air with his good arm. “I am so winning that bet! Dream likes to take his time in the dressing room, if you wait until the team leaves, you can be alone with him, bye!”
Showing off his running skills, the younger teen speeds away from a very confused Technoblade. Slowly everything clicks together, from the fact their entire group of friends somehow worked together to matchmake them to the fact now two of Dream’s closest friends have confirmed that he does, in fact, have feelings for Techno. For three years! Three years! Had he seriously loved—holy cow, loved! Not liked or fancied, but loved!—Techno for so long, refusing to shoot his shot in fear he’d lose the nice friendship they managed to build over years of competing and bantering? Or, Merlin, was the competing and the bantering the equivalent of flirting? Maybe the closest Dream could get with someone who clearly wasn’t interested?
And, hold up a second, did Sapnap just reveal that Wilbur told Dream about Techno’s feelings?
The record scratch inside his mind is so loud, Techno barely hears when everyone cheers when Dream finally catches the Golden Snitch.
“Techno…?!”
Techno gives Dream no time to say anything else, hands grabbing freckled shoulders and shoving until the shorter—by an inch or two, but still—teen’s back hits the wall of the changing room. His own mind barely has the chance to register how the other is still shirtless and how his hair is still damp with the after game shower. All he knows is that he’s been waiting for way too long and now he finally is able to be alone with Dream, since the Slytherin team practically ran out of the room as quickly as they could—probably something to do with the smug four-eyes the blond calls a best friend.
No matter. What matters is the chapped lips against his answering his hungry kiss with as much as fervor as his own. The hands that grasp his shirt, the strong arms that curl around his waist. The warm skin under his fingers. The knee between his legs, dangerously close to his crotch, the sensation of having one of his knees between the other’s legs. The moans and sighs he isn’t sure whose throat is letting out—perhaps both.
What matters is that he is head-over-heels for this stupid blond and he wants to kiss him silly until there is nothing left in his lungs.
So he does, and when they reluctantly separate, both spend a good moment trying to get their breathing to settle just enough for them to speak. Techno is the first one to break the silence, only because he can’t help himself.
“Victory Kiss.”
“What…?” Dream still looks a bit dazed, and the pinkett has to hold himself back from kissing the living daylights out of him.
“That was a Victory Kiss. Congrats on kicking my House’s ass, you cocky bastard.”
Dream laughs, smile blindly beautiful, and Techno can’t resist stealing it. Their second kiss is just as passionate, but less desperate. He fully hugs the Slytherin to himself, fingers losing themselves in damp blond hair. They’re both blushing, but it doesn’t matter how embarrassing it all is when Dream ends their kiss only to pepper Techno’s lips with quick pecks.
“And that one was for…?”
“Confirmation for our date.”
“Oh, I was wondering about that.”
There is so much tenderness in the green eyes Techno loves so much said teen feels like melting. Dream brings their noses together, then their foreheads, the two of them just enjoying the proximity for a few moments. There’s a million things Techno wants to say and doesn’t know how, however, and luckily for him, his lips can be used for more than talking.
“And this one?” Dream whispers after their third kiss, eyes still closed, lips now red and parted slightly. His expression screams utter and pure bliss and the pinkett can feel the wave of complicated yet really simple feelings hit him with enough strength to leave him breathless. He’s the cause behind the blond’s bliss, how much of an ego boost is that?
“A confession.” He admits just as quietly, fingers running through the shorter teen’s soothingly as green eyes snap open to stare at him with what he can only describe as doubtful surprise. “I love you.”
“... what?”
“I love you, Dream. I’ve had feelings for you for, like, half a year now. I don’t even know how that happened, one day I looked at you and my heart just went ‘this one, I want this one’ without warning.” He huffs when the look in his beloved— beloved, listen to him, he’s starting to sound like a poet—eyes doesn’t change. “I know you’ve been feeling this for much longer than me, which, by the way, I guess I’m giving you that victory, but I do love you.”
They spend the next seconds standing there, looking at each other, hearts beating against the other’s chest, before Dream’s smile slowly makes its way back in his handsome face. Merlin, Techno is addicted to them.
“Does that mean I get to have another Victory Kiss?”
Techno laughs softly, bringing the Slytherin to another kiss. The fourth of many to come, he’s sure of it.