Chapter Text
Greg was pissed. The letter had arrived just this afternoon, informing him that he wouldn’t be able to come home for Christmas. So Greg had to sit on his already packed trunk, and wish his friends farewell as they bundled up and headed towards their warm homes to get tons of presents and celebrate life. But Greg would be damned if he was going to waste a precious opportunity like this one. It wasn’t often that you were left almost entirely alone in an enormous castle with days and days of free time on your hands. There were so many things to explore and get into trouble for without risk of detention and spoiled reputations. It would, however, be quite lonely to do such wicked things without a good friend at his side, but Greg would have to make do. Maybe he would even find someone to kiss under the mistletoe this Christmas. He had just broken it off with his latest fling, God was she an idiot, right before the holidays, so he was a free man. All he had to do was find the right girl- or boy, he wasn’t about to limit himself- to share this Christmas with.
Greg walked to the Great Hall, praying to the gods of social interaction that there would be at least one person there that he could wallow in his misery with and maybe talk about Quidditch. The gods were not on his side, it seemed, as he took in the sight before him. One table? For teachers and students? This was bound to get awkward. He moved to the vacant seat at the end of the table, and dropped himself onto the bench a little bit harder than was necessary. He winced as he landed on the hard seat. Definitely not worth the dramatic entrance. He heard a small snort from across the table, and his head snapped up. He caught the other boys gaze with a sheepish smile. “Hey, stop it!” he laughed, “That really hurt!” The younger boy only smiled harder, his snort turning into a fit of giggles that made his eyes light up. He slapped his hand to his mouth, trying to contain the slip. “Sorry,” he managed to get out before bursting back into quiet laughter. Greg was absolutely smitten. The boy looked as though he was very studious and composed, but his eyes had a twinkle to them that exposed his boyish nature. His auburn hair was neatly combed, and his Slytherin tie was tied in a perfect Windsor. He had a slight frame that Greg thought he could easily pick up. The incredibly adorable boy attempted to school his face and then straighten his shoulders before extending his hand over the wooden table. “I’m Mycroft,” he said, cheeks slightly flushed from his laughing fit and what Greg thought was slight embarrassment at his own straightforwardness. “Greg,” he replied. “Nice to meet you, Gregory. I’m assuming we won’t need to make a visit to Madam Pomfrey?” “Oh please no. And the last time I was called Gregory I was sent to the backyard to pull weeds- without magic.” “Well, I’m certainly not calling you Greg. That’s far too common a name for a man who resorts to dramatic entrances, is ambidextrous, and has family in France.” Greg gaped. “How did you know all that? Not a stalker, are you?” Mycroft blushed. “No, no! You have made hand gestures and picked up your glass with both hands during this conversation, and the letter sticking out of the pocket of your robes is signed ‘mum and dad’ en français. Not such a terribly difficult deduction, really.” Greg grinned. “That was incredible! You should be an Auror, with skills like that!” Mycroft smiled graciously at him. “No thanks- not really the sports type. But I bet you could catch a ton of criminals with your speed.” Greg blushed. “I could probably do with a bit of your intelligence, though. You and I would make a good team, I reckon.” Mycroft smiled tentatively, “You really think so?” “Really, really,” Greg replied. The rest of the meal flew by with jokes and stories, only proving how well the two really got along.
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Mycroft lay on the common room couch, arm thrown over his head to block out the flickering of the firelight. He was absolutely screwed. Mycroft had been prepared for a quiet Christmas at Hogwarts, filled with plenty of reading and tea, and perhaps some puzzles to solve if Professor McGonagoll was available to talk with him. But now Gregory had entered the picture and demolished all his domestic plans with it, because all Mycroft could do now was replay the sight of Gregory laughing and talking animatedly over dinner. The way he threw his head back when he laughed, unashamed of how he sounded, how he tilted his head to listen to Mycroft like he was the only thing that mattered. Mycroft groaned. There was no way in hell he would make it through this holiday without some serious heartbreak if his emotions were going to continue to wreak havoc like this.
Suddenly, there was a strong voice just outside the common room walls. “Mistletoe Mischief! Christmas Tree Cruelty! Santa is Satan- Oooh, I didn’t expect that one to work!” The entrance to the Slytherin house slid open, revealing none other than Gregory. Mycroft scrambled to sit up, desperately straightening his green-and-silver tie and smoothing back his unruly hair. “Gregory! How- how did you- why are you here? Not that you’re not welcome, of course,” Mycroft blushed. Gregory smirked. “Well, I was hoping to fight off some boredom by exploring the castle, and I didn’t think it would be any fun going by myself.” “You know, Gregory, you could have just- knocked.” This time it was Gregory who blushed. “Yeah, but it was pretty fun trying to guess the Slytherin password. Santa is Satan, really?” “You would be surprised,” Mycroft grinned. Gregory smiled back. “Come on, let’s go see what Dumbledore’s been hiding from us!” “It won’t be dangerous, right?” Mycroft replied with a hint of trepidation. “I’m not promising anything,” Gregory said with a gleam in his eye. And with a bounce in his step, Mycroft followed Gregory.