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It's cold and windy outside and Zain is almost glad when he makes it to the butcher's, going inside and pushing his damp hoodie off his hair. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering a polite 'good morning' and steps up to the counter.

There is a gaggle of women standing in front of him, busy chatting with Mrs Jones behind the counter, so he knows he will have to wait until they finish their daily chat.

"He must be a witch," Mrs Jenkins says, pushing her basket slightly up the glass. "Josefine says she caught him swimming yesterday, down in the river where she always takes her dogs-"

"I told her not to go there, there is always strange folks running around," Mrs Hussain interrupts, shaking her head.

"Yes, I think she learned her lesson," Mrs Jenkins nods. "She says he was bathing naked, naked! in public! and she saw his nipples! Four of them! Can you imagine!"

"Four?!" Mrs Jones and Mrs Pritchard exclaim in unison.

"Definitely a witch," Mrs Hussain nods, seriously.

Zain holds back a snort and looks down before they can see his grin.

"My Rhys," Mrs Pritchard continues. "He went past the cottage yesterday and he says there are at least two cats running around that house now, and he's started on the garden, but no flowers, just herbs!"

"Zain!" Mrs Hussain says, catching sight of him. "Have you seen the new one in the cottage? It's right up the lane from yours, isn't it?"

"Yes," Zain says with a slight nod, running a hand through his hair. "But we just saw the moving van go past. A witch would be nice having, though, wouldn't it?" he adds. "What with the doctor being so far away." He still has nightmares about the drive to the hospital when Doniya had to have her appendix taken out, and how she'd screamed in agony and there had been no pharmacy or doctor anywhere close by to ease her pain.

"You're such a sweet boy," Mrs Jenkins says, shaking her head ruefully. "Witches make a lot of trouble, dear. When I was young, we had two sisters in the village and they were always up to something. Once there were no births in the whole village for two whole years. And then men started disappearing. You need to be careful, Zain," she adds, looking at Zain sharply. "They don't like men, especially the young unmarried ones. They say they use their bones for potions and eat their meat for strength during new moons."

"That's nonsense," Mrs Hussain says, shaking her head. "They don't eat people," she tells Zain seriously. "But they do not like men, my sister-in-law's sister, they've got a witch in their village as well, and a young man has disappeared just recently. Of course," she says, looking back at her friends. "The police do nothing, claims he ran away. Perfectly respectable family, who is supposed to believe that. But there are so few witches these days, they want to be sure. Like they couldn't just solve the issue by making sure we actually have a doctor in town. If we had, who would need a witch at all."

"Right," Mrs Pritchard nods.

"What do you need, then, Zain?" Mrs Jones takes pity on him, as the other continue to swap stories about all their family and friend's experiences with witches.

"Beef bones, for broth," Zain says, glad that he will be able to leave them to their gossip soon. "And chicken breast and beef mince."

"Excuse me."

Zain looks up from where he's painting the fence, wiping the sweat from his forehead and squinting against the sun. The man on the other side of the fence is looking at him with his head tilted to the side, a bandana wrapped around his head to keep the hair out of his face. He's wearing several necklaces and his rings glint in the sun as he pulls his shirt, lurid and wildly patterned, from his neck. Zain doesn't think he's ever seen a more gorgeous person in his life.

Zain gets up, feeling struck dumb by his whole appearance, the green of his eyes, looking at Zain intently, and the dimples in his cheek. It's only when the man looks him up and down assessingly that he remembers this must be the witch and all of the warnings to be careful around the witch come rushing back to him.

"Hi," he still says, dumbly, because surely they all were exaggerating, and the witch had the softest looking lips he had ever seen.

"Hi," the witch smiles, tilting his head further. "Would you mind getting me a runner of your lilac? I don't have nearly enough lilacs in my garden and I love the colour of yours."

"Sure," Zain says, staring at his lips for a second too long before pulling himself away and trying to remember what a lilac was and how to get one of its runners. He had pulled them up just last week because they were spreading too widely, but now it was like he has never heard a more foreign concept in his life.

Maybe that was what made witches so dangerous to men. Some of their magic or aura or something made them all brainless. They probably died trying to take a sip of water because they had suddenly forgotten how to drink, struck dumb by whatever it was that made witches so breathtaking.

"Let me just," he says. "I put them on the compost yesterday," he says and hopes that at least one of them was still easily reachable.

"Sure," the witch says evenly as Zain's already making his way away from him.

He's still reeling from the way the witch's skin seems to glow in the sunshine, and how his eyes had almost sparkled and he's not prepared to be met with the witch’s smile when he comes back, a few cut-off runners clutched in his hand. The dimples in his cheeks make him look young and soft and Zain wonders for the first time how old he is. He looks younger, suddenly, with his hair falling softly in his face despite his bandana, and the way he is playing with his necklaces like he is nervous.

"Here you go," Zain says, handing the runners across the fence. He jolts when the witch’s fingers brush his, a shot of electricity coursing through him and sending butterflies to his stomach.

"Thank you," the witch says, licking his lip.

Zain wants to taste them. He nods dumbly instead and forces a smile. "Of course," he says. "We have plenty, if you need more. Lilac is a weed."

"But such a pretty one," the witch smiles brightly, lifting his hand and waggling his fingers. "I'll see you around, neighbour."

"Yea," Zain says, flustered, and watches him walk away, his hips very obvious in his tight jeans. His boots sparkle in the sunlight and Zain might not have been able to count his nipples, but he's never been more sure that someone is a witch than he is right now. There was no way a normal person could exist like that.

"I wanna be a witch when I grow up," Safaa sighs happily, stretching.

"Yea?" Zain says lazily, turning his head to look at her. The sun glints of her dark hair and her earrings, and with the dark green dress and her messy hair and the wildflowers braided into it, she kind of looked like a witch already, contend to lie in the grass and soak up the sun. "How come? Don't you like me anymore?"

"No!" Safaa protests, rolling over to put her chin on his chest. "I love you! You'll be the only man I won't turn into a frog when I'm a witch!"

"That's very sweet of you," Zain snorts, stroking her hair. "I feel honoured."

"You should," Safaa says, grinning at him. "I'm gonna be a mighty witch and you will be the only one who doesn't need to be afraid of me."

Zain hums in agreement, stroking her hair.

"Do you think the witch in the cottage will help me become a proper one?" Safaa asks.

"We don't even know if he is one," Zain says, even though he's sure. He still hasn't been able to count his nipples — though he was halfway sure that that wasn't an actual indication of witchcraft — but just yesterday he had seen him walk through town with a cat on his shoulder, his clothes plain for the first time even though his skirt had dragged dramatically over the ground behind him, and a flower crown on his hair. If he wasn't a witch, he was definitely trying to seem like one.

"I'm sure he is," Safaa says. "I saw him pet Mr Patel's dog and you know that dog bites everyone! And Zara said he held her little sister and she didn't cry and she cries with everyone except her mum! He has to be a witch."

"I guess," Zain says, trying not to be disappointed. He had know it was unlikely, but there had been a tiny flicker of hope in him that had thought that maybe, if he weren't a witch, maybe Zain had a chance. Not like he'd have had a chance with someone so beautiful in any case.

He sighs, kissing Safaa's forehead. "Alright, enough lying around. We need to start dinner before the others come home."

"Urgh," Safaa says, rolling away from him and pressing her face into the grass. "Cooking sucks."

"A bit," Zain agrees with a grin. "But don't you have to practise for all the potions you will brew when you're all grown up?"

"But that'll be fun," Safaa protests, rolling onto her back again and stretching her arms out so that Zain will pull her up.

"Just pretend," Zain grins, taking her hands and lifting her. "We won't make curry, we'll make a potion that just seems like curry."

"I'm not an idiot, Zain," Safaa sighs, jumping on his back. "But alright. It means you'll have to listen to me, you know. Because I'm the witch and I know what to do."

"Of course," Zain says, tickling the back of her knees. "Almighty witch Safaa, whatever you say."

"Good evening, neighbour," the witch says when he opens his door, smiling down at Zain and keeping a black cat from straying outside with his foot.

"Good evening," Zain says, swallowing against the flutter in his stomach. "Sorry to bother you. But I'm looking for my sister, she's eight. She's run off and I thought," he hesitates, suddenly feeling dumb.

Safaa wouldn't have run this far, not even in a strop. "She wants to be a witch when she grows up, I thought, maybe." He shakes his head, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Nevermind," he says lamely and tries to think of somewhere Safaa could have gone, trying to ease the panic in his chest with rational thoughts.

"I can help," the witch says. "I have not seen her, but if you have something of her, I can find her for you."

"I don't," Zain says, shaking his head and scrubbing his hand over his face again. He hasn't even thought to grab her jacket.

"Your bracelet," the witch says, reaching out but not quite touching Zain. "Did she make it?"

"Yea," Zain says, hooking his finger through it and twisting it around slightly. "She did. But ages ago."

"It will be more than enough," the witch smiles, holding his door open in invitation.

Zain hesitates for a moment, but there really was no other way. His mother and sisters were looking and they'd already been everywhere Safaa usually went, and even some places she rarely visited. His mum had not been happy when Zain had suggested trying the witch's cottages, but she was as desperate as he was and Zain would give his soul if it would mean Safaa was unharmed, so whatever payment the witch would want would be nothing.

The cottage looks almost normal, a bit like his mother's hippie friend's flat — who was definitely not a witch — with too many plants and books lying around everywhere, wood and copper and herbs on every surface and hanging from the ceiling.

"Get down, Lou," the witch says, pushing at a black cat sat on the kitchen counter and pulling open a cupboard. The cat eyes Zain with an unimpressed expression before slowly hopping off the counter and sauntering out of the room.

"Let me just," the witch says, spreading herbs on the table and taking Zain's arm, fiddling with his bracelet.

"It won't come off," Zain says, "I haven't taken it off since she gave it to me."

"I know," the witch smiles, bending closer.

Zain blinks in astonishment when he knot unravels easily under the witch's fingers.

"Oh," he says and the witch winks at him.

"Magic," he says with a grin before turning serious, frowning as he puts the bracelet in the little circle of herbs, holding his hands above it and falling still.

Zain watches him, the way he seems to glow even in the artificial light of his kitchen, his lashes and the way his nose curves down slightly with the way he has pressed his lips together.

"She's at the old mill," the witch says, opening her eyes and looking at Zain, his pupils blown. "She's fine."

"That was quick," Zain says, wanting to slap himself. He had completely forgotten about the old mill because Safaa had declared she didn't like it when she was five and not gone there since. He scrubs a hand over his face to pull himself out of it, turning to leave the kitchen. It was just a ten minute walk away, five if he hurried, he can't quite believe that he hasn't thought of it himself.

"It's easy when you love her this much," the witch says, following him to the door and pressing the bracelet into Zain's hands. "I'll see you around."

"I, yes," Zain says, already halfway down the stairs, rushing towards the mill. He's halfway there when he remembers that he didn't even say thank you, or offer anything as payment. He would need to go by tomorrow, or else he'd end up with herpes or syphilis or something.

"Safaa," he calls when sees the mill's ruins and the light of a torch between them.

"I'm not talking to you!" Safaa calls back and Zain feels ready to weep with relief. She's safe and sound between the ruins, a blanket under her and one wrapped around her, a thermos and a tubberware box next to her, glaring up at him.

"You can't just run away like that," Zain says, sitting down next to her and pulling her into a hug, kissing her head. "We worried."

"I'm fine," Safaa says, leaning into him despite everything. "I'm gonna be a witch, a witch is always fine in the woods."

"Of course," Zain agrees, kissing her head again and breathing in her strawberry shampoo. "But until you are a witch, please don't run away into the woods, especially not at night, and especially not without telling anyone. You scared us."

"Only if mum stops telling me I can't be a witch," Safaa says.

"She just worries," Zain says. "But I will talk to her. Even if she doesn't listen, though, please don't run off."

"How did you find me?" Safaa says instead of answering, tilting her head back. "I never go to the mill, I thought you'd forget about it."

"I went to the witch," Zain says, stroking her hair.

"You did?" Safaa asks, her eyes going wide. "Really? How did he find me?"

"I don't know," Zain says, pulling her bracelet from his pocket. "He used this."

"A finding spell?" Safaa whispers in awe, taking the bracelet from Zain and tying it around his wrist again. "Those are hard!"

"Really?" Zain asks with a frown. "It was really quick."

"He must be powerful," Safaa breathes, her whole face light up in awe. "To use just a bracelet I made for you ages ago! I read that it's easiest if it's something I possessed and recently."

"Where did you read that?" Zain asks, pulling her up with him.

"Library," Safaa says, reluctantly folding her blankets. "I'm not talking to mum, though. Can I sleep in your room tonight?"

"Alright," Zain sighs. It'll be good for his sake as well, when he wakes up and can see her right away, to know that she hasn't run off again. "But you gotta apologise to mum for running away."

"We'll see," Safaa says, stuffing her tubber wear into her backpack.

"We baked," Safaa announces as soon as the witch opens his door, holding up the plate with their cake carefully and shivering slightly when another breezes brushes over them.

"Oh?" the witch laughs, looking slightly startled, smiling brightly and bending down to her slightly. "What for?"

"As a thank you for finding me," Safaa says. "Even though I didn't need to be found," she adds to Zain, glaring slightly.

"Not for your sake, no," the witch agrees, running a hand through his hair. He's not wearing a bandana today and it falls freely and curly into his face, messy and soft. Zain wants to touch it. "But for your brother's it was very important. I like the bracelet you made him," the witch adds, reaching out to touch it where it is back on Zain's wrist, his eyes never leaving Safaa. "You worked very hard on it, didn't you?"

"Yes," Safaa says, leaning back against Zain, while Zain is trying to seem calm and unaffected even though it feels like his wrist is burning from the short brush of skin. "But it was ages go. Do you like cake?" she asks, holding up the plate she is carrying some more.

"I do," the witch says, straightening and taking the plate form her.

"It's apple," Safaa explains. "Because we have too many apples in our garden."

"Apples are nice," the witch smiles. "Do you want to come in? I just made tea, we could share it. Cake is better when shared, isn't it?"

"Sure," Safaa answers before Zain can decline the offer. "What's your name? I'm Safaa, I'm gonna be a witch when I grow up."

"Yea?" the witch smiles. "I think you will be a marvellous witch, Safaa," he says, watching her crouch down to pet the cat.

"I think so, too," Safaa nods, scratching the cat under the chin. "But what's your name?"

"Harry," the witch answers, shooting Zain a look.

"That's not a very witchy name," Safaa says, disappointed, scratching her fingers lightly over the cats belly.

"It's the one my mother gave me," Harry shrugs, turning around. "Come in, you can pet him inside."

"Come, kitty," Safaa says, picking the cat up and kissing his nose. "What's his name?"

"That's Louis, he's a little shit," Harry says, making Safaa laugh in delight. "What's your name?" he adds to Zain, taking a pale pink tea pot off the counter and carrying it to a small table in front of an open fireplace, gesturing Safaa to sit down. It's barely noon but there are candles burning everywhere, which made the whole cottage seem warm and friendly despite the overcast day.

"I'm Zain," Zain says, feeling his cheeks flush. They've interacted thrice now, and he's not once remembered to ask for the witch's name, or to offer his own.

"I have black tea, Zain," Harry says. "If you'd rather. Safaa and I will have mint. It's refreshing."

"I- mint is fine," Zain says, watching awkwardly as Harry plates three slices of cake and pulls three cups from the cupboard, all different colours and shapes and sizes. "Should I?" he adds, even more awkwardly, gesturing to the plates.

"Yes, thank you," Harry smiles and walks towards the small table with the precariously stacked cups and one of the plates, setting everything down carefully before letting himself fall onto the floor beside Safaa. 

Zain follows them awkwardly, handing Safaa one of the plates, and takes a forkful of his own for lack of anything else to do.

"It's good cake," Harry praises them, though he is looking at Safaa. "Did you make it?"

"A bit," Safaa shrugs. "I don't like cooking, but Zain says I should pretend it's potions," she explains, putting her feet into Zain's lap and tickling the cat with her braid. 

"That's good advice," Harry says, looking at Zain intently again and making Zain remember Mrs Jenkin's warning about getting eaten again.

"Did you really use a finding spell to find me?" Safaa asks through a mouthful of cake. "Zain said you were really fast, but I read that finding spells take ages because they're hard. And with an old bracelet, too!"

"It was easier because you made it for him with so much love and he wore it with such love," Harry says, leaning towards her slightly. "But shush," he adds, putting one of his fingers to his mouth, the stone on his ring glinting in the candlelight, his nail polish chipped. Zain's never been this attracted to a finger before. "We can't talk about witching secrets in front of others."

"Oh," Safaa says, both excited and disappointed at once, shooting Zain a look.

"But," Harry says, also shooting Zain a look, taking a sip of his tea. "When you and your brother come visit tomorrow, I can teach you about finding spells while he cuts my firewood."

"Zain?" Safaa asks, making her eyes big and round and sticking out her lower lip.

"Sure," Zain says slowly, because there hadn't been a question in Harry's words and he's not about to argue with a witch he's indebted to. 

Harry smiles at him before leaning forward to pour more tea. 

"I like your house," Safaa says, still snuggling with the cat, who is purring contently. 

"Thank you," Harry smiles, laying down beside her to tickle the cat with his own tail. "I like it, too. What do you like the most?"

Zain watches them, wondering if letting his sister be taught by a witch truly was the best idea. But she looked so happy and content and it would mean he could see Harry more often, Harry who seem to look more gorgeous every time Zain saw him.

"He's gonna teach me magic, isn't that so cool?" Safaa asks, hopping along in front of him, randomly avoiding the puddles and sometimes jumping into them with gusto. 

She looks slightly ridiculous in her sparkly pink wellies and a summer dress, but Zain guesses she has to start practising if she really wants to be a witch. At least if Harry's sense of style was representative. 

"Very," Zain says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hoping this wouldn't turn out to be a disaster. Mum would not be amused, but she also wouldn't be amused if Zain kept staying in the debt of a witch. And maybe Safaa would find being a witch to be utterly boring and change her mind about it.

"Are you really gonna cut his wood for him? You hate doing that, you always try and get Wali to do it instead."

"He found you," Zain says. "I'm in his debt. You know what happens if you're indebted to a witch."

"I guess," Safaa says, frowning. "But he seems nice. He won't give you boils or turn you into a frog or something."

"You don't know that," Zain says, doubtful. "And anyways, it's still nice to repay him. And cutting wood is not the worst thing in the world."

"But close, right," Safaa grins mischievously. 

"Right, you imp," Zain grins, catching up to her and grabbing her around the waist, swinging her around.

"Let me go!" Safaa laughs, kicking her legs and running away as soon as he sets her down. Zain gives chase, running after her and getting close from time to time to sickle her sides, making her squeak and twist away. 

He catches her just in front of the witch's cottage, hugging her as they stumble into the garden. She's still giggling when the door opens and the witch comes out, his hair standing up in a little tuff on top of his head and the most dressed down Zain has ever seen him, only an oversized hoodie and some jogging bottoms, his feet bare. It's hugely unfair that Zain still wants to kiss him very badly, and do a lot more beside.

"Hey," the witch smiles, pushing his sleeves up his arms. "You came. I like your boots, Safaa."

"Me too," Safaa answers with her boundless confidence. "Are you really gonna teach me spells?"

"We'll see," Harry says, smiling down at her, stepping to the side to let her inside. "The wood is behind the house," he tells Zain. "Come knocking if you need anything."

"Sure," Zain says, stunned, and trying to look past him into the house. 

"Safaa is going to be fine," Harry says, easing something in Zain. He could be lying of course, of bewitching Zain to trust him, but Zain can't bring himself to be suspicious of him. He's usually good at trusting his instinct, and nothing about Harry's presence raises any alarms. In fact, it settled him, despite the way he lost his brain a bit at the same time. 

"Go on," Harry says gently, his hand reaching towards Zain before falling back to his side. "It's gonna rain soon. And come inside once you're done. I baked."

"I- sure," Zain says, feeling dumb, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment too long before he can turn away. 

"It's raining," the witch says, turning up at Zain's side suddenly, startling Zain slightly. "Why didn't you come inside?"

"Almost done," Zain shrugs. The witch's umbrella has the worst floral pattern Zain has ever seen. Still, he would have been more surprised if Harry's umbrella had been a plain colour, or even one of these rather conventional rainbow coloured ones. 

"You'll catch a cold," Harry says, "come inside."

"I'll be right in," Zain answers because he's almost done and he's not gonna leave his task unfinished. He can be as stubborn as Safaa if he wants to be, and there was no way he'd get back to cutting wood another time, not if he could help it. "It's not much left."

"Well," the witch says slowly. "I'll have Safaa practise an immune boosting potion then. Don't take too long," he adds firmly before walking back towards the cottage.

Zain watches him go, still in the same clothes with boots on his feet that didn't exactly look like they were made for mud and rain. Shivering, he turns back to the wood. He had been fine while he'd been working, but now that he's stopped, even for just a moment, he is feeling the chill. The way his clothes stick to him is deeply unpleasant as well, and he pulls a grimace, putting the next piece of wood on the block and raising his ax.

He was right about it not taking long, but he's shivering when he finishes, pushing his hair off his forehead as he rushes around the house, slipping slightly on the wet grass. 

"Zain!" Safaa exclaims when she pulls open the door. "I made a potion! Here, try this!"

She presses a steaming mug into his hand before he has even crossed the threshold, bouncing slightly in excitement, vibrating. In the low light of Harry's cottage, the flickering of candles and firelight and the electric fairy lights he's put up everywhere, she almost seems to glow. 

The potion tastes like herbal tea more than anything. Perhaps Harry had only been trying to get her involved. Still, it is warming after the chill that's settling into his bones and he hums appreciatively and only partly to appease her.

"Safaa, he's soaked, let him inside," the witch chides gently, wrapping a towel around Zain and pulling him inside, closing the door. "I put some clothes in the bathroom," he adds to Zain. "That door down there, can't miss it. And maybe take a quick shower."

"Okay," Zain says, letting himself be turned in the right direction. Somehow, the thought of the witch having a bathroom is the most baffling thing of all, like perhaps Zain's imagination had thought he only bathed in the river like Mrs Jenkins had talked about. Zain licks his lips and shakes his head slightly against the thought, wondering if witches could read minds. He hopes not, because he's not going to survive if they do. He'd definitely end up a frog then, or worse.

The cat is staring at him when he pulls the shower curtain back, hissing slightly when it catches sight of Zain.

"Your witch told me to," Zain defends himself before his mouth can catch up with his brain. He shakes his head at himself, grabbing the towel without looking away from the cat. It's a weird, drying himself and getting dressed with the cat watching him, almost unblinkingly. Zain can't bring himself to look away either, slightly freaked out.

"Better?" the witch smiles when Zain gets back to where Safaa and Harry are sitting around a low table, Safaa frowning at at book. 

"Your cat is watching me," Zain blurts instead of thanking the witch, like he definitely should.

"He does that," Harry shrugs, getting up. 

Zain keeps his eyes on his face, not looking at his legs unfold. "I left my clothes over the tub," he says. "Do you have a bag or something?"

"I'll just put them in the wash," the witch says. "You can pick them up the next time you bring Safaa."

"I-," Zain says, taking the mug Harry presses into his hand. "Are you holding them hostage?"

Harry laughs, his cheeks dimpling and his eyes crinkling. Zain's belly flutters. "No," he says. "Drink the potion Safaa made you. It'll help. And sit down, Safaa and I aren't done for today. You can have cake while you wait. It's in the kitchen."

"I- ok," Zain says, feeling slightly lost.

Harry smiles at him before sitting back down with Safaa and seemingly forgetting about him completely. Zain watches them for a moment, the way Safaa frowns in concentration and Harry's fingers tap the book in front of her, his rings glinting in the lights of the room, not sure how he got here but definitely not regretting it yet.

"I'm here to bring back your clothes, and get mine," Zain says, holding up the bag with the freshly washed clothes the witch lent him.

"Where's my little witch apprentice?" Harry asks, leaning against the door jam and making no move to take the bag from Zain.

"At home," Zain answers. He holds up the bag, so it is very obviously dangling from his hand. "I just wanted to drop this off."

"Mm," the witch hums. "All right. But you're not getting your clothes back until I see the little witch again."

"She's not a witch," Zain says. "You don't have to indulge her."

Harry grins at him, leaning forward slightly like he's about to share a secret. "She's a wonderful witch," he says, his breath hitting Zain's face. Zain parts his lips slightly, overwhelmed by the closeness and Harry's scent, like herbs and wet earth but also somewhat sweet. 

The witch holds his gaze for a moment, watching him intently, before straightening again, pushing the hair from his forehead. "I'll see you, Zain," he says, taking the bag from Zain's slack fingers and closing the door in Zain's face. 

Zain stares at the wood for far too long, looking at the paint peeling slightly from it, idly wondering if he should offer to put a new coat on in. The cat hisses, jumping on the window ledge next to the door, hissing again when Zain looks at him.

"I'm going," he says, shaking his head slightly. "You're not a very nice cat, are you?" he adds. "I hope you're nicer to my sister."

The cat blinks at him lazily, his tails swishing sharply.

"I'm going," Zain says again, rolling his eyes and jogging down the few steps. "Don't panic."

He doesn't turn around, not once while he makes his way across the small garden path and down the lane towards the village and back to his mother's house but he feels eyes on his back the whole time, the cat probably making sure he doesn't get any ideas.

Safaa is waiting for him in front of their house, her hands on her hips and a very displeased frown on her face. "Why did you go without me?" Safaa complains as soon as she sees him. "He said he'd teach me another potion."

"Don't worry," Zain answers. "He wouldn't give me my clothes unless you're there."

"Really?" Safaa beams. "Perfect. Can we go tomorrow? I know that's your favourite shirt, you'll want it back."

"Babes," Zain sighs. "You know tomorrow is mum's day off."

"Right," Safaa says, "Forgot. But the day after, right? I've been reading the book he lent me and I think I wanna try and make an energising potion. Mum could use it."

"Didn't you do that last time?"

"No, Zain!" Safaa sighs, jumping onto his back to let herself be carried into the kitchen. "That was an immune booster. Still very useful but very different from energising ones," she says sagely, like she wasn't wearing a Spice Girls shirt and had glitter on her nose. Zain isn't sure if it was makeup or from crafts, but he wasn't going to point it out in case it was fashion or something. He is ears are still burning from the last time he tried to point out a —what he had considered — flaw in his sisters' makeup.

"All right," Zain says, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She was taking it far more seriously than he'd ever expected, especially considering that she hated cooking and all that came with it. "Start on the potatoes, Saf."

It's not that he minds, there is just the undercurrent of worry, because he knows how the village is treating the witch already and how they will look down on Safaa if they ever discover it. And mum wouldn't be too happy either, not with how cautious and suspicious she was.

"You promise we'll go the day after tomorrow?" Safaa asks, frowning at him as she lifts the bag of potatoes on the counter, hopping up beside it to sit crossed-legged as she works. 

"I promise," Zain says, watching her blow her hair out of her face.

The door falls shut loudly. "Hey!" Waliyha calls from the hallways, her boots thumping against the wall as she kicks them off. 

"Hi," Safaa beams at her. "Did you get any leftovers?"

"Only bananas," Waliyha says, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. "Can you make banana bread, Zain? I can't stand the smell of overripe bananas and they are all on the edge already. Saf, you've got glitter on your nose."

"What?" Safaa shrieks, shooting Zain a look. "Why don't you say anything? I was in the garden like this!"

"I thought it was on purpose," Zain shrugs.

Safaa huffs, jumping off the counter and running up the stairs loudly. 

Waliyha snorts. "You're hopeless sometimes," she says, kissing his cheek. "It's why we make you stay at home while we bring home the cash."

"You mostly bring home overripe fruit," Zain says drily, hugging her around the shoulder.

"And bruised veggies, don't forget," Waliyah yawns. "Why are you looking so glum? Even if you thought it was on purpose, Saf looked ridiculous with her glittery nose."

"It's just my face," Zain answers. "She did look a bit stupid," he grins.

Waliyha laughs at him. "I'm gonna get changed and then come help. Mum and Doniya should be home soon, Doniya texted."

"Kay," Zain nods, turning back to cutting up the meat. "Make sure Saf comes back down."

"Will do, will do," Waliyha yawns again stretching her arms over her head. "Did you know that the witch is male?"

"What?" Zain asks, confused. "I mean, yea, you know I met him. Why?"

"Right, I forgot. Mrs Prichard was at the bus stop and you know how she is, insisted on 'walking with me'," she rolls her eyes. "Apparently it's a man and the old gossips can't decide if that makes it more or less dangerous. You know, cause they say the male ones aren't as in tune with the moon or whatever."

"He seemed plenty witchy," Zain shrugs. "Worse sense of style than Safaa."

Waliyha snorts. "That seems impossible. But I mean. She does want to be a witch. Seems like she's on the right path. I'll be upstairs," she adds unconcerned, popping a tomato into her mouth and biting down, half the juice dripping down her chin.

Zain rolls his eyes. "Send Safaa down," he reminds her, choosing not to comment, turning the stove on.

"Yes, sir," Waliyha says sarcastically, saluting.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Safaa calls, shaking Zain's shoulders and rushing back out again.

"The hell?" Zain calls after her, turning onto his back.

"We're visiting Harry today, you promised!" Safaa calls back.

"It's way too early to show up at other people's places unannounced," Zain calls back. He blinks at the ceiling, trying to remember if Safaa has ever been this enthusiastic about getting up unless it involved presents.

"He said he's always up early," Safaa says, poking her head back into Zain's room. "I'm making breakfast, get up!"

"You're so bossy," Zain complains, scratching his nose.

"You'd better listen! I'm learning magic now," Safaa giggles, rushing down the stairs without waiting for his reply. 

"Ridiculous," Zain complains and forces himself to sit up. 

He catches himself contemplating his wardrobe choices way more than he usually does, when he only spent time on it if they went into the city. There was no reason to even put on clean clothes when he spent most days walking down muddy lanes or working in the garden or around the house. He doesn't want to ruin his good clothes either, not even to impress the witch. And Safaa should not pick up on it either or he'd never hear the end of it.

Shaking his head at himself, he grabs the same clothes he wore yesterday, just to make sure he won't put more thought into it, running a hand through his hair and deliberately keeping himself from trying to make it look less like a mess. He should probably get a haircut soon, the way it has started curling around his ears.

"Zain!" Safaa calls from downstairs, pulling Zain from his thoughts very effectively. 

"All right!" Zain calls back, shaking his head.

The door to the cottage is ajar when they arrive. Zain keeps Safaa from simply rushing in like it was left open for them and not the cat, knocking on the wood sharply.

"Coming!" the witch yells from inside, then curses as something clangs loudly.

"We could just go in," Safaa whispers, not quite brave enough to do simply that.

It takes a moment and then the witch's bare foot appears in the gap by the door, pulling it open.

"Oh, it's you, hello," the witch smiles at them, pushing his hair from his forehead with his forearm, his hands covered in flour and dough. He looks a right mess and very endearing. Zain shakes his head, he really needed to get a grip. 

"Let me just finish with my bread and we can get started, Safaa," Harry continues, scrunching up his nose slightly and rubbing it against his upper arm awkwardly.

"You're making bread?" Safaa asks, following him curiously into the cottage. "Really?"

Zain hovers on the porch awkwardly for a moment before deciding to follow them inside, half listening to the witch explain how he bakes and what step of the overly complicated process he was currently at as he watches him gesture widely.

"Zain," the witch says, pulling him out of his thoughts. "The soil in the beds behind the house need to be turned. There's a shovel in the shed."

"Okay," Zain says, nodding.

"Thanks," the witch smiles, his dimples deepening. 

It's only when Zain's outside, his shoulders already aching from the work, that he realises he might have said no. Surely, he's paid his debt for finding Safaa again and the witch didn't seem the kind to curse him. He really should stop doing whatever the witch said just because he had a pretty face. And nice legs. And a cute laugh. But still. He should practise resisting. He'd say no next time. Or at least make the witch actually ask him.

They are sitting in front of the fire again even though the day is too hot for it. Zain is dripping with sweat, soaked from the sun shining down on him while he turned the soil, and he pulls the shirt from his stomach, grimacing slightly when it sticks to him.

"Let's go home, Safaa, I need a shower," he says, wiping his forehead across his face.

"We can't," Safaa says. "I need to finish my potion first."

"I'm dripping," Zain says. "Saf, really."

"You can shower here again. Your clothes are on the counter in the bathroom," the witch says, his eyes on the cat in his lap, petting it intensely. 

"We should get home," Zain says, rising an eyebrow at Safaa.

"No," Safaa says, "I need to finish it. You can't leave magic unfinished, it will go bad."

"I-," Zain blinks. "Okay," he settles on. He has no clue if magic truly will go bad but the witch is nodding, even though he is still watching the cat, and Zain's not gonna be responsible for twisted magic. 

"The bread will have cooled by the time you're out," the witch says, looking up at Zain finally. He looks flushed from the heat as well, his cheek red, his hair somehow more of a mess now than when he'd opened the door. "I'll prepare a few sandwiches."

"Thanks," Zain nods, scratching his cheek. He takes a few steps back, turning around only when the witch looks back down at the cat, breaking their eye contact. Zain shakes his head to himself, closing the bathroom door. He's definitely under a spell, there was no other explantation.

"This is so good!", Safaa exclaims. "Did you put magic in it?"

"Everything you make will have a bit of magic in it," the witch says with a slight laugh. "But no, not particularly. It's just good bread."

"So good," Safaa nods, grabbing another sandwich and taking a large bite. "You'll have to teach Zain how to make it," she adds through a mouth full of sandwich.

"Maybe he doesn't like it," Harry says, looking at Zain through his lashes. Zain would think he were shy if not for the slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Zain swallows, licking his lips and ignoring the twist of his stomach at the way the witch is looking at him. "It's good. Very-" he trails off, wrinkling his nose as he tries to think of a word that's not that. "not dry." 

"Moist," Harry laughs, finishing Zain's sentence for him. "I know, I know, awful word. But accurate," he shrugs. "I can teach you if you wanna. It's not that hard, just a bit involved."

"Don't you need magic for it?" Safaa asks before Zain can respond. He's not sure if he wants another reason to come back to the cottage or if he'd be happier never seeing the witch again and having to endure his gaze focussed on him as intensely as it was, sometimes.

"No, love," Harry says. "It's just bread, it just needs patience and good flour."

"Zain's not very patient," Safaa says, shrugging, and crunching down on a pickle.

"Really?" Harry asks, looking back at Zain. "He seems very patient to me."

Safaa shrugs. "It's just cause he's quiet. He's always quiet when he doesn't know people."

"But you know me, now, don't you, Zain?" the witch says softly, leaning towards Zain and putting his fingers, long and hot, on Zain's knee. 

Zain swallows, unable to look away. "Sure."

The witch smiles, his dimples deep in his cheeks, and squeezes Zain's knee before straightening.

"Alright, Safaa," Harry says, rubbing his hands, his rings clicking together lightly. "Let's finish that potion."

"It's for you, Zain," Safaa says, rising on her knees to peer into the tiny pot hanging over the fire. "So you won't get sore from all the digging in the garden."

"Thanks, Safaa," Zain says, surprised, not quite sure if he should actually be thankful that he was the first to try her potions. It made him feel a bit like a glorified lab rat as well, being put to work, then fed and then handed the first potion Safaa's ever brewed. 

Harry peers into the potion with Safaa, humming slightly as she stirs. "It's perfectly safe," he says over his shoulder, sounding amused. "She put all her love into it, there is no way she can screw it up."

"I'm not!" Safaa adds, stirring. "I'm doing exactly what Harry says I should." 

"Didn't say a word," Zain says and takes another piece of bread. Now that he's taken a shower and the sun is setting outside, the heat of the fire made him languid, well fed and exhausted, he could fall asleep right where he is, surrounded by the sounds of the cottage, the wind brushing past gently and the fire crackling, Safaa whispering to herself and the witch humming. It smells like summer, too, like heat and herbs and wood, and the floor almost feels soft with his contentment.

"Don't fall asleep," the witch says, poking him with his foot. 

"'m not," Zain lies, watching the shadows of the low light play across his face even after the witch has turned back towards the potion Safaa is brewing. 

"Zain Malik!"

Zain startled slightly and turns around at the demanding tone in Mrs Jenkins's voice, holding back a grimace when she hurries to catch up with him, her bag swinging wildly.

"Martha saw you with the witch the day before last! And my Steven said you've been cutting wood at the cottage!" She starts straight away, pointing an accusing finger. "Have we not warned you! You ought to stay away from witches. He will enthral you, if he hasn't already, and then where will your poor mother be?"

"Why would be enthral me? What's the use?" Zain asks. It wasn't like he was rich or powerful or anything that would make it worthwhile and Harry didn't really seem the kind in the first place.

"You're such a handsome boy," Mrs Jenkins sighs, shaking her head slightly. "Witches are shallow, dear. He won't do you good."

"He's been nice," Zain defends him, adjusting the grocery bag. He should set it down, but that would feel like admitting defeat and reigning himself go staying with Mrs Jenkins for an indefinite amount of time.

"Nice!" Mrs Jenkins exclaims. "There are no nice witches! Haven't you listened to anything we've been saying?"

"Surely that's not true," Zain frowns.

"Are you calling me a liar, young man?"

Zain wants to roll his eyes. "No," he answers, trying for a placating tone. "Just. They do a lot of good as well, don't they. With their potions and all."

"They could just as well poison you," Mrs Jenkins grumbles.

"Well, I'm not your mother," she adds in the tone of voice that meant she was definitely telling his mother. Never mind that he was well into adulthood by now. Nothing made you constantly feel like the seven year old caught stealing the plums from Mr Kapur's backyard as living in the village you grew up in.

"Zain," she adds, patting his shoulder. "I know you've been to the city, but don't believe everything these city people say. You gotta be careful of witches. And you're such a sweet and handsome boy, love, you gotta be extra careful. Stay say from the witch!"

"I'll be careful," Zain says, mostly so she'd let him leave, finally. He adjusts the bag again, his hand going numb.

He'd promised Safaa he'd be quick, and then he'd gotten caught up talking to Jaffar at the grocer's. Mrs Jenkins was probably punishment for not rushing home.

"You do that," she says. "We'll keep an eye on you," she adds ominously, like that was reassuring.

"Cool," Zain says drily. "I've gotta get home, now, Mrs Jenkins. Safaa is alone and I said I'd be quick."

"Oh yes, hurry home," she says, like it is his fault she started lecturing him in the middle of the street. "And tell her to stay away from the witch. She used to pretend to be one, you know, when she was little. Your father always thought it was adorable, he let you get away with everything, didn't he, God rest his soul. But she should know that witches are no joking matter."

"I know," Zain hurries to say, the knot in his throat tightening. "I should go home. Bye, Mrs Jenskins."

He starts walking away before she can start on another topic, again, changing the bag to his other hand and swallowing around the lump in his throat. It's been years and most of the time he's fine, but sometimes the memories come and it makes him choke, remembering how Safaa used to chase their father around and pretend to turn him into a frog, shrieking with glee and him laughing loudly.

"Why are you sad?"

Zain startles, looking up to meet the witch's eyes.

"What?"

"Why are you sad?" the witch asks, tilting his head. He's wearing a colourful scarf wrapped around his head today, possibly to keep his hair out of his face, possibly to simply look ridiculous, and his eyes seem to shine.

"Just. Memories," Zain says because he can't quite deny he's sad when he's sure it's written all over his face. "All good. You going into town?" He asks, trying to put the focus off him.

"Yep," the witch says, popping the plosive sound. He takes a step closer and still watches Zain with his weird green eyes, like Zain was particularly interesting. "My garden doesn't give me what I need just yet," he says, like that's a normal statement to make.

"Yea," Zain agrees, watching the witch's tongue poke out at the side of his mouth. "Try and avoid Mrs Jenkins. She's already caught me today," he adds, to be neighbourly, and maybe also to spare Harry the pain of being told off for existing.

"You're sweet," Harry beams. "But she thinks I'm gonna steal her husband so she avoids me," he shrugs, wrinkling his nose. "Not sure what I'd do with him of all people," he adds thoughtfully. "Wouldn't be very useful, too much bitterness in him, you know?"

"Err," Zain says, staring a bit.

Harry's eyes are still sparkling, but Zain isn't quite sure if he's serious. The frown on his forehead and the way his mouth isn't quite pulled into a smirk make Zain think that he isn't joking. Not quite.

"Oh well," Harry sighs, like it's not worth pursuing the thought. "I'd better be off. I'll rain in an hour and I don't wanna get wet."

Zain's eyes automatically go up towards the sky, where there were a few clouds but nothing that would scream rain.

He startled when he feels the witch's lips on his cheek, soft and warm and lingering just for a moment. "Don't let the memories get you down, Zain," he whispers like it's a secret.

He's already a good way away when Zain manages to rip himself out of his stupor, turning around to watch him walk away.

He's very sure Harry bewitched him this time, because his stomach is fluttering and his heart is beating way too quickly, but most of all, the ache in his chest is gone and he can remember his father's laughter without tears welling up behind his eyes.

"Mum said you have to," Safaa says, putting her hands in her hips and frowning at Zain.

"She didn't tell me," Zain shrugs, not looking up from where he's painting their fence. It has finally stopped raining again and they promised three days on sunshine on the news. He has to make use of it or the fence will not get painted this year and they'd definitely get to hear about it from someone in the village.

"Well, you were sleeping," Safaa says. "And she was in a hurry. But she said I was allowed to go and to take you!"

"So she said you should ask me," Zain interprets, shooting Safaa a disapproving look.

"Well," she hedges, shrugging with a slight smirk that he knows she learned from him.

"Maybe tomorrow," Zain says. "I wanna finish the fence first. It would go quicker if you helped me, you know?"

Safaa shrugs. "I know," she says. "But I'm gonna practise my energising potion instead. It'll help you when you're finished."

"That's so kind of you," Zain says drily. "Are you good enough to not poison me?"

"Harry said it's not a potion you can screw up badly," she shrugs. "At worse it'll be like a tea, you know. No real benefit except for a few herbs, I guess."

"You guess," Zain sighs. "That inspires confidence. Where are you going to get the herbs?"

"We have them all," Safaa tells him confidently. "I'm gonna cut them myself. Harry says it's most potent if I cut the herbs with intent, you know. So I should think about making you better while cutting them."

"Huh," Zain says, moving a bit further along the fence. "Are you supposed to tell me that? Sounds like witching secrets to me."

"Harry says that was a joke, mostly. I can tell if I trust you," Safaa says, leaning against a bit of fence to Zain's right, where he hasn't painted yet. "But he also said part of being a witch was being mysterious, it's more fun that way, so I shouldn't tell everyone. Harry says secrets are only good if they're meant to be shared with people you love most and to make people happy, like surprising someone for their birthday-"

"What does Harry say about helping your brother paint the fence?" Zain interrupts before she can tell him everything Harry's ever said. It's not helping his crush at all, to hear about Harry, especially since Harry seemed to be perfect with Safaa as well.

"I don't know, we don't talk about boring stuff like that," Safaa shrugs.

"I bet he's in favour," Zain says, "I bet Harry says that you should always help your brother take care of your house. I bet he says it helps make the house safer."

"No, he doesn't," Safaa says, draping herself over Zain's back and making a nuisance of herself.

"Yea, I bet he does. I bet Harry says it's good practise for when you're trying to turn people into frogs," Zain grins, reaching back to tickle her.

"No!" she shrieks, letting herself fall backwards, still clinging to his neck. Zain laughs falling with her, careful not to crush her. She wiggles away, laughing, sticking her tongue out at Zain before sprinting away.

"Yes," he grins, scrambling to his feet and chasing after her. She's quick and much more agile, darting to the side when he almost gets her and not caring that she's gonna fall.

"Let me down!" she shrieks, laughing, when he catches her, lifting her off the ground as she kicks her legs.

"You gonna help me with the fence?"

"No!" Safaa laughs, giggling when he sets her back down but trots after him. She sits down in the grass next to him, watching him for a moment and scratching her nose.

He rolls his eyes at her, amused when she just grins cheekily, kicking her legs as if to demonstrate that she's really not going to work.

"My ears were ringing all the way from the cottage," Harry says, startling them both.

Safaa recovers first, probably because she isn't stunned speechless by the expanse of chest he can see, Harry's shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and the fabric itself sheer enough that Zain can count all four nipples for himself.

"Were they actually ringing?" she asks curiously, tilting her head.

"No," Harry grins at her. "It's more like-" he trails off, frowning past then for a moment. "Like when wind goes through your hair, you know?"

"I guess," Safaa shrugs. "We weren't saying anything bad," she adds. "Zain tried to get me to paint the fence," she pushes at Zain and Zain flicks the brush at her in return, making her squeal.

Painting is far easier than watching Harry, and it's bad enough that Zain can hear him. He even thinks he can smell him, like fire and herbs and warmth. It reminds him of summers spent in the kitchen, when the heat had been almost unbearable but not quite and he'd feel languid with it, relaxed and content.

"I know it wasn't anything bad," Harry grins. "The wind was very playful. How did he try making you paint the fence?"

"He said it would make the house safer," Safaa shrugs. "That you'd think it's be good practise."

"Well," Harry says slowly and Zain can feel his eyes on him. It's a bit like a breeze on his neck, now that Harry's brought the image to his mind. "He's not wrong. But only if you do it because you want to make the house safe."

Zain looks up, surprised.

"Really?" Safaa asks, awed. "Zain was right?"

"Hey," Zain complains on reflex, though he is just as stunned. He doesn't quite understand how his teasing could have even hit close to anything but the truth, but Harry is still looking at him, his eyes green and bright.

Zain's breath catches in his throat, and he licks his lower lip on reflex. Harry blinks and looks back at Safaa.

"Apparently," he smiles, the tension breaking. "I've got to go. Louis's been complaining about a lack of tuna in the house and I need to be back in time to put my bread in the oven."

"Alright," Safaa says. "If I can make Zain, I'm coming by tomorrow. No, the day after, Zain's taking me swimming tomorrow."

"Alright," Harry smiles. "I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye," Zain echoes and turns back to the fence before he can stare at Harry for too long.

"I might try," Safaa says critically, taking the spare brush. "But not long. Harry said I have to want to make the house safe and if I get bored I'll be too bored for that."

"Alright," Zain grins. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Safaa says grandly and starts frowning in concentration.

"I wanna learn how to turn boys into frogs," Safaa announces, pushing past Harry and flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"Hello," Harry says, looking startled and unprepared for visitors, none of his usual flashy or extravagant clothing, just plain jogging bottoms and a soft t-shirt. His hair is a mess. Zain's not sure which look he prefers but he would very much love to touch Harry's hair like this. "Why?"

"Because boys are stupid!" Safaa announces, planting herself in her usual spot, crossing her arms and glaring at Harry as if to make him move.

"Sorry," Zain says quietly. "Didn't mean to arrive unannounced, she's a bit stubborn."

"It's fine," Harry answers equally quietly, stepping closer to Zain. Zain can feel the heat of him like this and smell him, a bit like sweat, a bit stale, underneath that earthy smell that always surrounds him. "What happened?"

"Some of her classmates," Zain says, pulling a grimace. "They bully her."

Harry frowns, turning towards Safaa. "Witches can't turn people into frogs, not matter how much they deserve it," he says, sounding vicious enough that Zain is glad he can't. "But we can make them lose their hair," he adds, settling down in front of Safaa.

"Er," Zain makes. It's futile, they both ignore him. The only one who looks at him at the sound is Louis, who lifts his head and gets up on his hind legs, stretching languidly without taking his eyes off Zain. It's still creepy.

"Got your tuna?" He asks Louis, despite himself, reaching two fingers out carefully. The cat looks at him with disdain for a moment before stepping forward, rubbing his cheek against Zain's fingers as if on accident. Zain holds back a snort and scratches him under the chin lightly, amused.

"He adopted a kitten yesterday," Harry says, shooting Zain a distracted look. "He's upstairs, waiting for his bottle of you don't mind."

"Louis adopted a kitten?" Zain asks, looking down at the cat who is still pretending to not lean into Zain's hand.

"Oh, yea. He loves bossing then around," Harry says dismissively. "Formula is above the stove, a bottle as well." He turns back to Safaa and the book between them. Zain doesn't really know how to stop them, and really a bit of baldness wouldn't actually hurt anyone. Except perhaps a few egos and that would only do them good.

He rubs his hand over Louis's back, making his arch into it, and starts looking around for kitten supplies, Harry and Safaa's hushed voices a nice background noise.

Zain looks up from stroking the kitten's soft orange fur when the door creaks open, the floorboards creaking as well. Everything in the house made noises, clocks on the wall ticking, the wood creaking, the fire cracking, leaves rustling and brushing agains the windows. It was strangely comforting, even though Zain liked his quiet, like sitting in the middle of the woods which were never silent either.

"We're almost done. Now the potion only needs to boil for two days, reduce it somewhat," Harry says, leaning against his bedroom door and watching Zain with bright eyes. He has tamed his hair at one point, pulled it back into a messy half-bun but he's still wearing his tread-bare t-shirt and no socks, his toes long and tan.

Zain looks up before he gets caught staring at his feet and abruptly realises how inappropriate it is to have just sat down on a stranger's bed. But the kitten had been lying in it, purring contently, and Louis hadn't thrown a fit when Zain had approached it, hopping onto the bed in front of Zain and head butting the kitten gently.

"What's he called?" Zain asks, trying to distract himself from Harry and the fact that he was in Harry's bed. He was worse than he had been when he was a teenager. It was embarrassing. He raises the purring kitten to his cheek, rubbing his soft head against it for a moment and kissing his forehead.

"Niall," Harry says, crossing the short distance to the bed and settling down in front of Zain to stroke Niall's chin. "It sounds a bit like it when he meows, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Zain says, stroking the kitten's neck. Niall meows softly, like he's trying to prove that it does sound like his name, even though Zain thinks Harry's a bit delusional and also not all that good at naming cats. 

Niall rubs his cheek against Zain's shoulder, happy. 

Harry leans closer still, his scent, which Zain had just gotten used to somewhat from sitting on his bed like a creep, getting more intense, making Zain's mouth water. He was pathetic. 

"He likes you," Harry smiles, half in Zain's lap from trying to get closer to the kitten.

Louis, not to be outdone or perhaps simply to save Zain from himself, walks onto Zain's thigh, rubbing his cheek against Niall's face with a disapproving meow. Zain might start to like him, setting Niall down so he can watch Louis boss the kitten into walking further up the mattress and onto Harry's pillow.

"Louis," Harry sighs, not moving out of Zain's space. "That's my pillow." 

Louis throws them a disinterested glance, curling up around Niall and starts to groom him with broad licks of his tongue. Zain glares at him slightly, feeling betrayed despite the fact that not too long ago Louis had been hissing at him. Harry was so close. Zain just needed to turn his head slightly and they'd be kissing and he'd know what Harry would taste like.

Harry sighs, his breath brushing across Zain's lips. "You're a nuisance, Louis," he says. "Come, Safaa and I baked some bread, we can have early tea," he says, his lips brushing Zain's jaw lightly before he gets up like nothing happened, leaving Zain sitting there, struck dumb. 

"This is your fault," Zain tells Louis nonsensically when Harry's already halfway down the stairs, and forces himself to get up, his knees weak. His heart is beating too quickly and he's flushed and aroused from nothing but the lightest touch and this is worse than being a teenager. 

"Zain!" Safaa calls from downstairs, impatient, and Zain composes himself, at least as much as he can when Harry just put his lips on Zain's skin like it was nothing.

Zain dreams of the witch that night, the moon illuminating him, his hair falling around his shoulders. The witch smiles down at him and it's hot and intense and strangely blurry, like there's a veil separating them. Zain wakes up shaking and aroused, feeling like he hasn't in years, desperately reaching for a dream. 

He tries to keep Safaa distracted through the day, taking her to the market and making her help with cooking enough food for the whole week and then starts on the garden. He doesn't think he can face the witch today, not when it still feels like Harry's hands are on his skin and when the ghost of Harry's breath is still tingling his lips.

In the end, he gives in to Safaa's begging. He can't say no to her, never really could, especially not when the only reason he can think of is: I had a dirty dream about him and now I won't be able to look at him without embarrassing myself.

"I hope he teaches me another potion," Safaa says happily, skipping alongside Zain, her wellies clashing horribly with her skirt. "I want all the boys to get awful spots!"

"Vicious," Zain answers, distracted. At least the weather is uncomfortably cool so Harry would hopefully be dressed properly. 

"They deserve it," Safaa says mercilessly, pushing open the gate to Harry's garden. "Aww, look at them!" She exclaims, pointing at Niall and Louis who are lying down on the front step.

Niall doesn't wake as they approach but Louis lifts his head, looking at Zain intensely. Zain glares back, feeling uncomfortably judged. 

Safaa crouches down by them, stroking Louis under the chin and making him purr, eyes closed in contentment. 

"Hi!" Harry greets them, pulling the door open and beaming at them. Zain quickly focussed back on Safaa, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "I thought you wouldn't come at all today." 

"Zain decided to be productive today," Safaa answers scornfully, picking up Niall and cradling him against her chest. "Can you teach me how to give boys spots? The really awful kind?"

"Sure," Harry answers easily, like he has nothing better to do than help Safaa with her petty revenge. 

"But that potion takes a while. We'd better start early tomorrow," Harry continues, picking up Louis and dangling him from his hand, looking at him for a moment. Louis flicks his tail in annoyance until Harry sets him back down, walking away with a hiss, every fibre of his body screaming displeasure. Harry watches him go, frowning.

"But I baked cake. You can come in and have a piece." He smiles at Zain.

Zain smiles back automatically, his cheeks burning at the memory of his dream, of the way Harry had sounded, moving above him.

"Yes, please," Safaa decides, pushing past Harry into the house in a manner not dissimilar to Louis's gait.

Zain has to grin after her, meeting Harry's gaze in amusement. Harry is still looking at Zain, slow to turn his gaze away, lingering on Zain’s mouth.

Zain licks his lips in response, half caught between arousal and wondering if he’s got lunch stuck between his teeth. 

Harry smiles, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up, looking deeply satisfied.

“Did you have a good dream last night?” he asks lowly, taking a step towards Zain and touching Zain’s belly with his fingertips.

“What?” Zain croaks, his voice abruptly breaking. Surely, witches couldn’t actually read minds. That was a myth, like the things people said about them eating men. 

“Did you have a good dream?” Harry asks again, barely audible if he weren’t leaning into Zain’s space, his breath brushing against Zain’s lips. 

“Sure,” Zain says, clearing his throat. He was not going to tell Harry about it, but he also wasn’t gonna lie, just in case the witch actually could read thoughts. “It was alright.” 

“Alright,” Harry laughs, pressing his lips to Zain’s in a soft kiss, almost chaste if not for the dream in Zain’s head. Memories of wet, plump lips sliding against his, pleasure coursing through him as Harry rocked above him.

Harry’s eyes sparkle when he pulls back, mirth seeming to dance around him like mist. “You expect a lot from your dreams, do you?”

“Well, they’re my dreams, aren’t they?” Zain answers, his head reeling. At least his mouth seems to finally remember how to talk. “They should be breathtaking and unparalleled.”

“I’ll try my best the next time you pull me into them,” Harry laughs, pressing his lips to Zain’s again. “Come on. The cake turned out excellent. Almost good enough for one of your dreams.”

Zain follows him dumbly into the cottage, trying to figure out if Harry was teasing when he’d blamed Zain for that dream. If he was teasing when he made it sound like it had been more than a dream. Perhaps he was evil after all, and using his powers to drive Zain insane by pretending to — Zain wasn’t sure what. But he hadn’t actually pulled Harry into his dreams, surely.

There is a tiny spark of hope on his belly, though. Because Harry had not seemed upset about any of it. In fact, perhaps. Perhaps that dream was likely to become reality. And then. 

He watches Harry pull a grimace at Safaa, making her giggle and quickly distracts himself by meeting Louis’s disapproving gaze. 

"Come on, I hear you witches are freaky in bed."

Zain looks up from where he's trying to save the tomatoes from falling to the bottom of the shopping bag and being crushed, his eyes finding Harry almost instantly.

Harry is standing in front of Markus, who Zain remembers all too well from own time at school and had somewhat successfully evaded ever since. Harry looks mostly annoyed, frowning with pinched lips. He's still so very pretty, as always, his hair falling around his shoulders in soft waves. He's wearing one of his long skirts today and a loudly printed shirt. 

Zain shakes himself out of it, shouldering his bag and inching towards them. He doesn't want to impose, but with Markus you never knew.

"Then you've also heard that I can give you very painful boils," Harry says cooly, glaring at Markus.

"Don't be like that, pet," Markus says, reaching for Harry. Zain wrinkles his nose.

"Do not touch me!" Harry says, sharply, pulling at his arm.

"Let him go, Markus," Zain says, starting towards them in earnest, because Markus had always escalated things very quickly if things didn't go his way.

"Shut up, Malik, go back to your mummy," Markus snaps, pulling at Harry's arm. Zain's not even sure what that's supposed to do but he also doesn't have to keep wondering because Harry narrows his eyes, seeming to glow suddenly and then Markus yelps, pulling his hand away.

"You fucking witch!" he snarls, cradling his hand. It looks red and burnt and Zain's kinda impressed.

"Don't touch me," Harry snaps again and then reaches for Zain, taking his hand. Zain's slightly stunned at the contact, letting himself be pulled along. 

"You okay?" Zain asks once they're a bit further down the street and he's kind of managed to gather himself."You good?"

"Yea," Harry says, straightening and pushing his hair from his forehead, sounding winded. "I'm not good with that kind of spells. I do better with love, not rejection or hate or something like that." He doesn't let go of Zain's hand but slows down somewhat, linking their fingers more comfortably.

"Well," Zain says awkwardly, stroking his thumb over the smooth skin of Harry's hand. "I'd say everyone who pushes that pig away does so out of love for themselves and probably humanity. He's been awful since school."

"Oh," Harry says, looking at Zain with wide eyes. "Zain," he whispers, stopping abruptly. Before Zain can reach, he's taking Zain's face between his hands and kissing him. "You're brilliant," he says, leaning back in to kiss Zain again, lingering with his soft lips pressed to Zain's.

Zain blinks, stunned speechless, and tries to remember how to breath.

"What?" he says dumbly as Harry steps back with a small frown on his face.

"Too bad I can't practise with you," Harry says, mostly to himself. "Oh, too bad."

"What?" Zain repeats, stumbling after Harry as he starts walking towards their houses again, pulling on his necklaces and muttering to himself like he did not just steal all of Zain's brain function with a single kiss.

"Motivation," Harry mutters, "if my motivation for refusal is love not disgust, it should work. If only I could practice. I'll see you tomorrow," he adds to Zain when they come up to Zain's house, turning around to smile at him and stealing Zain's breath again. "Thank you."

"I — see you," Zain says, staring after him, still not quite sure what happened.

Zain hasn't expected to see Harry so soon again and he almost falls off the bench he's stretched out on, reading, when Harry suddenly stands next to him.

"Hi," Harry says, smiling down at him, still wearing his clothes from this morning. He's put his hair up in a bun now, though, and Zain can't decide what he likes better. 

"Hi," Zain says, sitting up and putting his book face down on the small table beside the garden bench. "You startled me."

"Mm," Harry smiles, putting his hand on his hips. "I was supposed to teach Safaa a potion today, remember?" he says, sounding more amused than annoyed. "But you haven't shown up and now it's too late for today."

"So you've come to scold me?" Zain asks, confused. 

Harry laughs slightly, running his hand through Zain's hair and showing him the petal he's pulled out. "A bit. I mostly wanted to make sure you'd actually turn up tomorrow. Nine should be a good time."

"Sure," Zain nods, blinking when Harry's fingertips touch his cheek. "She's gone to visit one of her schoolfriends today, they've come back from holiday yesterday evening."

"That's good," Harry says and settles himself onto Zain's lap. "So you're alone?"

"Err," Zain makes, his breath catching when Harry presses his lips to Zain's cheek, gently and almost not there.

"Am I dreaming?" he blurts, distracted by Harry running his fingers down Zain's chest and belly. His skin feels like it's on fire and like he's about to fly apart.

"No," Harry smiles, brushing his nose against Zain's. "You can focus on whatever you want, can't you?" he adds, kissing the corner of Zain's lips. "Nothing is hazy."

"I guess," Zain says, but focussing on anything except where Harry's touching him is actually kind of difficult. 

"I know," Harry says, kissing him. Finally. Zain parts his lips and meets Harry's tongue eagerly, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, stroking his back. Harry moans, rocking forward slightly and Zain sucks his lower lip into his mouth, tightening his hold.

He doesn't know how long they kiss, but they're panting and sweaty when they pull apart. Harry's looking down at him with red lips and flushed cheeks, his pupils dark and large. Zain is desperately aroused, reaching up to cup Harry's cheek and try and pull him into another kiss.

"No," Harry pants. "Your sister is almost home."

Zain frowns, letting his hand drop reluctantly. "How do you know that?" he asks, stroking his hand over Harry's thigh. 

"This is your home," Harry smiles. "And Safaa's."

Zain blinks at him, bereft when Harry gets off his lap, pulling his shirt down slightly. Zain hasn't even realised that he'd pushed it up to get at skin. "That doesn't explain anything," he says, reaching out to touch Harry's belly one last time. 

"Can't tell you witching secrets, can I?" Harry smiles, leaning down to kiss Zain chastely. "Not yet, anyways." He straightens, opening his hair and shaking his head to let it fall around his shoulders.

Zain stares.

"If you call me to your dreams tonight, I'll definitely come," Harry tells him, mouth slightly parted as he licks his bottom lip.

Zain's mostly sure that he's trying to kill Zain but he's just being infinitely nicer and more cruel than he could be. "Is that another one of your witching secrets?"

"Definitely," Harry says, kissing Zain's cheek again. "Dream of me, please," he whispers and then leaves, just like that, walking across the garden like he hasn't stolen all of Zain's brain power again. 

He dreams of Harry again that night. It is hazy and he can't seem to focus on anything properly, like Harry'd said, but it is still clearly Harry, smiling at him and seeming to glow. 

"Thank you," Harry whispers, kissing Zain, like it isn't Zain's dream, like Zain's not the grateful one.

He looks wonderful, gorgeous, breath-taking, his hair falling around his shoulders as his hips undulate, taking Zain deep and sighing with it. His mouth parted and so pink, his eyes so green in the moonlight, his four nipples tight and firm when Zain touches his chest, running his palm over Harry's skin.

"Witch," Zain says afterwards, softly, kissing each of Harry's four nipples in turn. 

Harry laughs soundlessly, his belly heaving and his knees dropped apart as he lets Zain kiss his skin, his hands idle in Zain's hair, not even protesting when Zain bites the soft flesh on the inside of his thigh gently. 

"Don't forget about Safaa's potion," Harry says when Zain starts feeling drowsy with sleep, laying down with his arms around Harry. 

Harry leans down to kiss Zain again. "Nine," he says again, taking Zain's hand and kissing his palm. "Sleep well."

"Mm," Zain makes, the dream fading already.

"It is quarter past nine," Harry says, opening the door and leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Didn't I remind you last night, specifically."

"He's always really slow in the morning," Safaa says disloyally, grinning up at Harry. Zain tweaks her nose, rolling his eyes.

"Why don't you go feed Niall while I scold your brother?" Harry says, smiling at Safaa.

Zain raises an eyebrow. "Your schedule isn't that tight, is it?" he asks.

Harry shrugs, cupping Zain's face and kissing him as soon as Safaa is out of sight. "Perhaps, perhaps not," he says when he pulls back. "But it's been a while since I've kissed you."

"Oh," Zain makes and pulls him back in, walking him carefully backwards until he's pressed against the wall by the door, and he can lick into Harry's mouth properly. 

Harry moans, wrapping his arms around Zain's shoulders, arching his hips forward and spreading his legs slightly so Zain can slot between them easily. Zain just wants closer, wants at his skin and touch more of him.

"Shit," Harry gasps, turning his head to the side and breaking the kiss, pulling Zain's hand from where he's started undoing Harry's trousers. "We can't, not right now," he gasps, pushing Zain away slightly. 

Zain blinks and remembers like a rush of cold water. "Sorry," he says.

Harry laughs, fixing this clothes. "Don't apologise," he says, taking Zain's hand and kissing his palm like he had done last night. "Soon. But now I need to teach your sister how to give boys spots."

"Important," Zain nods, only half joking. He likes the thought of Safaa defending herself like Harry had yesterday, making boys burn if they touched her and she didn't want them to.

He follows Harry into the living room, watches him settle across from Safaa and grin at her, glad that he remembered to bring his own book to occupy himself.

"You're done?" Zain asks, looking up when Harry touches his shoulder. 

"Yes," Safaa answers from where she's busy bottling the potion, excitement in her voice. 

Harry winks at Zain and cups his chin, leaning down to brush his lips across Zain's. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" he asks. "I've made pumpkin soup."

"Thanks," Zain says, getting up as well. "But mum will be home, we should start dinner ourselves." Mum would not be amused if she knew where they were and he definitely needed to make sure that mum and the girls had dinner when they got home, they worked too hard as it was.

Harry watches him, his eyes bright, and smiles when Zain rises an eyebrow in question.

"Come, Safaa," Zain says, pulling himself away. "I'm sure Harry will keep the rest for you."

"Will you?" Safaa asks, looking at Harry pleadingly.

"Of course," Harry smiles at her. "Unless I need to give someone pimples, then I might have to use it instead."

"That's alright," Safaa agrees, putting the bottles into her bag, the glass clinking gently when she gets up. "I can't come by tomorrow, though, I promised Jackie we'd go to the river."

"Of course," Harry says, watching her bounce around to pet Niall and Louis goodbye. 

Harry comes with them to the door, his hand catching Zain's on the way out. "Sweet dreams," he says and Zain feels himself flush, quickly following Safaa down the steps and out of the garden.

Safaa is bouncy the whole way back to their own house, humming to herself. She'd been lonely this summer with just him as company and he's glad that she hasn't forgotten her best friend for all her witchiness. "I wanna cook today," she says. "I wanna make potatoes, I think. With spinach. And chicken."

"Sounds good, babe," Zain says, amused. He will end up having to do more than half the work, probably, but as long as she's happy.

"And I'm gonna show Jackie the potion, she said we can try it on her brother, he's been mean to her all holiday. He hides her things and he pulls on her hair all the time and he flips her skirt up all the time, it's really annoying."

"Does he do that to you?" Zain frowns. 

"He does pull my hair sometimes," Safaa shrugs. "But not the rest. And now he won't ever pull our hair again. Jackie says he's got a crush on a really pretty girl and if he has really ugly pimples, he'll hate that."

"Sounds fair," Zain nods. "But tell me if he keeps bothering you."

"Ok," Safaa says. "Harry said you saved him yesterday, and that you'd always save me as well."

"I didn't save him, babe," Zain says, watching her twirl around, her hair and skirt flying. "I'm pretty sure he would've dealt with it on his own."

"He says sometimes just being there helps," Safaa says unconcerned. "I think he likes you, he's always looking at you."

"Yea?" Zain asks, trying not to swoon like a teenage girl with a crush.

"Yea," Safaa says, frowning at him in consideration. "I think you like him, too, because you never look at him."

"Yea?" Zain grins, amused. "Maybe I do. Is that bad?"

"Nah," Safaa shrugs. "But he's my friend, so he still needs to teach me potions," she adds sternly. "Don't keep snogging him like Doniya did with her boyfriend."

"I'll keep that in mind," Zain grins and reaches out to poke her side. She squeaks, laughing, and starts running away. He gives chase, happy to hear her laughing and elated with the knowledge that Harry liked him, that Harry's kissed him two days in a row.

"Mrs Kapur said you were with the witch yesterday!" Mum says, leaning against the counter with her mug of tea, the one Doniya had made in pottery class ages ago.

"What?" Zain says, startled, looking up from the dishes he's drying. Gossip travels fast in this village, but his mother rarely spent time outside their home if she was here, to exhausted from work.

"She said that Markus boy was bothering him yesterday and that you helped him."

"Yea," Zain shrugs. "So?"

"Nothing, in itself," Mum says, taking a sip of tea and looking at Zain with a frown. "But Mrs Kapur also told me you and Safaa were seen visiting his house several times. You know I don't want you associating with witches, and I certainly don't want you to take your little sister into their home."

Zain blinks, taken aback by his mother’s vehemence. He knows she's not happy with witches, but he didn't think she'd oppose this badly. 

"Mum, he's harmless," he says, touching her arm. "He's nice and he's indulging Safaa because she's put her mind to becoming a witch, you know she always played at witch with baba."

"Witches aren't games!" Mum snaps, looking upset and close to tears. "I don't want Safaa anywhere near them!"

Zain stares at her. His mother rarely lost her temper and he hasn't seen her this upset since just a few weeks after baba's death.

"I told your father again and again and he wouldn't listen!," she continues, wiping her eyes. "And now look at her, thinking it's a game."

"Mum!" Zain says, stunned. "She just wanted to learn a bit. I was always with her."

"It's too dangerous!" Mum snaps. "You won't Safaa to see that witch or any other ever again, Zain, promise me," she says urgently, taking his arm, her voice still chocked. 

"I-," Zain says, reaching for her in an attempt to comfort her. She folds into his hugs, wrapping her arms around him. "If it's important to you," he says, trying not to think too much about it, and she shudders, sobbing.

"I just want you safe," she sobs, clinging to him. He shushes her, rubbing her back like he's had to comfort his sisters and like she used to comfort them. It's weird, suddenly being the one to take care of his mother like this. Like he's a proper adult now, not merely pretending at it.

Doniya comes into the kitchen, looking as exhausted as mum, frowning when she catches sight of them.

"What's wrong?" she asks, taking the kettle to the sink and filling it.

Zain shrugs slightly.

"Nothing, love," mum says, wiping her eyes and sniffling slightly. She cups Zain's cheek and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'm just exhausted. I'm going to bed."

"Good night, mum," Zain says, frowning after her. She kisses Doniya goodnight as well, puts her mug in the sink and leaves the kitchen slowly, like she's carrying a heavy load. 

Doniya crosses the small space between Zain and herself, taking his hand. "What happened?"

"I don't know actually. She heard that Safaa and I had been spending time with the witch but I didn't think she'd take it like that."

"Did something happen with the witch?" Doniya frowns.

"No," Zain says, slowly. "Not to us." 

Doniya tilts her head, patient and expectant.

"Markus was harassing him," Zain shrugs and Doniya groans in understanding. 

"Safaa?"

"She was at home," Zain says. "But we've been at his place a few times, Safaa like learning silly potions. She made me one, for energy. I think it was peppermint tea," he smiles. "But she was so proud."

"She adores you," Doniya smiles. "Her perfect big brother." She kisses his cheek with a smack. 

"Mm," Zain makes. "But mum doesn't want Safaa seeing him again so that means I'll be at the receiving end of her latest potions. If I suddenly develop acne, you can blame her."

Doniya laughs, patting his cheek. "Poor you," she grins. It falters almost right away, turning into a frown. "I didn't think mum would be like that. Remember when I was ill?"

"Er," Zain says drily. "Hard not to." He still has nightmares sometimes, about Doniya screaming in pain.

"Well," Doniya says, looking abashed. "Anyways. Remember how she didn't ask for a doctor? She wanted a witch, right away. Demanded one in fact."

"Yea," Zain agrees. "It never seemed like she believed any of that rubbish Mrs Jenkins and her lot sprout."

"Mm," Doniya says. She yawns abruptly, stretching. "I think I need to go to sleep. Can you make samosas tomorrow, bhai?" she asks sweetly, blinking her eyes up at him.

He snorts, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. "Only because you asked so nicely," he says, hugging her tightly.

She hums, squeezing him back. "Don't worry so much," she adds quietly. "I'm sure mum will be fine and Safaa will forget about being a witch soon enough. She's young."

"Yea," Zain says, laying his cheek on her hair. He's not so sure, because mum had seemed properly upset and Safaa seemed very committed to learning, suddenly, when usually she didn't have the patience. And then, Zain would like to see Harry as well and if the village tattled, it would be so much harder to go to him. And how would he explain to Safaa that she wasn't allowed anymore.

"Let's go to bed," Doniya says, kissing his cheek again. "Come on."

"You haven't visited me all week," Harry says, pouting down at Zain. "And I haven't been pulled into any of your dreams either. It's been dreadfully boring."

"Sorry," Zain smiles up at him, charmed, before he remembers why he hadn't gone to see Harry.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, tilting his head when he sees Zain's smile drop. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, we're good," Zain nods, getting up and brushing the dirt from his knees. Harry looks exceptionally pretty today, his hair loose and falling around his face in soft curls. 

"But something is the matter," Harry says astutely, reaching out to touch Zain's hand. "What is it?"

There isn't really a reason for Zain not to say but he still bites his lip, embarrassed. "My mum doesn't want Safaa to be a witch. She's asked me not to take her to see you anymore. She was pretty upset," he adds, because that still lingers on his mind. It wasn't like his mum at all. 

"Oh," Harry says, deflating. It was like he was losing a bit of his shine. "I didn't know your mum felt that way. You-" he stops, biting his lip.

"I didn't either," Zain says. "But she was really upset, like after baba. I mean. I just-"

"It's fine," Harry says with a quick smile, touching Zain's hand again. His eyes are sad, though and it hurts Zain more than he'd have expected. "Family is important. Maybe she'll change her mind," he smiles, leaning across the fence to kiss Zain's cheek.

"I'll come by once Safaa's back in school. If you want," Zain says quietly. "Just. She's already upset, I don't wanna make it worse by. I don't know. Flaunting it."

"Oh," Harry breathes, his face breaking into a hesitant smile. "Yes. That'd be nice. Think about me before you go to sleep," he adds, brushing his fingers down Zain's chest. "And I'm sure we'll see each other before."

"Okay," Zain says, confused. He's still not sure he understands what Harry means. He's dreamed about Harry yesterday, remembering that other dream perhaps, but apparently that was not what Harry wanted. 

Harry smiles again, leaning forward to press another kiss to Zain's cheek. "See you," he says and leaves, his skirt swinging around his ankles. 

Zain blinks after him, still stunned whenever Harry left. Bereft. He shakes his head to get rid of it, and goes back to digging through their flower bed.

Harry is waiting for him when he falls asleep. It's like one moment he was staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what he'd done the last times he'd called Harry into his dreams and the next he's asleep but also not, looking at Harry. 

Harry is smiling down at him, his whole face lit up with it, that weird dreamy haze around them that makes everything but Harry far away and unimportant.

"You figured it out," Harry smiles, leaning down to kiss him.

"Did I?" Zain asks. It's weird now. Last time, he had thought he was only dreaming and had pulled Harry towards him, had taken what Harry was willing to give, gladly. But now he knows and he can't get himself to just stroke his hands over Harry's skin like he so desperately wants to.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Harry smiles, his lips brushing over Zain's cheek. 

"I don't know what I did," Zain tries to explain.

Harry's breath brushes over Zain's lips when he speaks, soft and enticing. "So we practise," he whispers, taking Zain's hand and sliding them under his shirt, arching forward into Zain's touch. 

"Don't you listen when I teach Safaa?" Harry asks breathlessly. "It's all about intent."

He laughs when he's suddenly naked, grinning down at Zain. "See?" he says, like it was Zain somehow, bending down to kiss Zain.

Zain strokes his skin, overwhelmed by Harry above him and the implication that he, somehow, was doing something. He runs his hands over Harry's sides and up his ribs, brushing his nipples just to see Harry gasps. Appreciating how warm and soft Harry is. It's so easy in the dream, like they're made for each other, moving together, Harry laughing down at him, grinning happily, looking wild and ethereal in the hazy light, his hair flying around him. 

"Is Safaa very upset?" Harry asks, lying down beside Zain instead of vanishing, stroking careful fingers over Zain's stomach and up his ribs.

"A bit. Doniya and I are mostly confused about mum," he adds, frowning. The haze seems to draw closer.

"Don't pay attention," Harry says, leaning above Zain and kissing the side of his nose. "It's harder to stay here when you realise you're not just dreaming. Don't think too hard."

"That's like saying don't think of the pink elephant," Zain answers, trying to understand. 

Harry laughs lightly, kissing the corner of Zain's mouth. "In this case a pink elephant would be good, hm?" he asks, stroking his fingertips over Zain's cheek. "You don't know why your mother was upset? Maybe she doesn't like witches. Most people don't."

"I don't know," Zain says, trying to focus only on Harry's fingers on his skin. "When Doniya was ill she only wanted a witch. But now she doesn't want Safaa to be seen with you." 

Zain frowns, trying to remember more about Doniya's illness and what had come before and after, about anything really.

"Oh darling," Harry says quietly and then he's gone and Zain gasps awake, feeling like he's been dropped in water. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the feeling.

He doesn't fall asleep for a while, concentrating too hard in trying to replicate what he'd done to fall asleep in the first place. In the end, he falls asleep, trying to picture Harry smiling down at him.

"Hey," Zain says, feeling awkward without Safaa to drag him along.

"Zain!" Harry breathes, pulling him inside and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him deeply for a long and wonderful moment. He tastes like he does in Zain's dreams and he feels even better, real and warm.

"Darling, I thought you'd never come. Dreams just aren't enough, are they?" Harry smiles when they part, pressing his lips to Zain's cheek and pulling him further into the house. "Come, I have just finished baking. If you'd said I'd have made you something special."

"I snuck out," Zain says lamely, feeling like a teenager again. Ridiculous. "Didn't know if I'd manage."

"It's perfect," Harry says, gently pushing Zain into a chair and settling on his lap, leaning down to kiss him again. "You want to eat?"

"Nah," Zain says, leaning back up to catch Harry's lips like a starving man. He's fine with only having Harry's mouth for the rest of time, holding him close and drinking him in.

Harry laughs gently, kissing Zain's jaw. "Then we'll wait before dinner," he whispers, running his fingers down Zain's chest and touching his belt buckle. "And then I'll take you upstairs, yes?"

"Yea," Zain breathes, holding Harry by the waist and wishing he'd worn one of his skirts today so he could hold the skin of his thighs.

He wonders if they are as nice, firm and soft, as they are in his dreams. If Harry will sound as lovely.

"Your dreams won't be enough," Harry whispers, kissing him softly and smiling down at him. "You won't want to leave my bed."

"Wait," Zain blinks through the haze of arousal, running his hands up Harry's thighs and then down, holding him by the knees. "Did we actually share that dream?"

"Yep," Harry says, sounding smug and amused, arching his back, and trailing his hand down his chest and stomach like he was trying to distract Zain. "It's pretty cool, actually," he continues, smiling down at Zain and taking his hand in his, putting it on his waist. "You didn't think I was lying, did you?"

"No," Zain frowns, distracted by Harry and the length of his neck, his nipples pressing against his shirt. "Just. Seems. Unreal."

"Magic," Harry laughs, kissing Zain's forehead.

"It's rare, you know," he adds, rocking his hips slightly. "Because I can't enter your dreams unless you ask me to, and usually only witches can. Or if you're like," he hesitates, cupping Zain's face. "connected."

"Connected how?" Zain asks quietly, the heat of Harry's body and the fire making him dazed.

Harry shrugs. "Depends," he says vaguely. "Siblings can do it. Or lovers. It's not always sex," he adds when Zain wrinkles his nose. "It's so you can stay close to someone of they're farther away. My sister calls me sometimes."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Zain asks.

Harry shrugs, his gaze drifting away. "She's far away," he says, kissing Zain's cheek again. "You'll meet her soon enough, darling."

Zain blinks, overwhelmed by information and Harry's closeness and the implication of Harry's words. Like Zain was part of his future. Of his life.

"But it's rare?" he asks.

"Hm," Harry makes, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Zain's jaw and throat. "You were so impressive, though. You asked me across some distance even though we've barely known each other. But you reached for me and it was so easy," he licks his lips. "So easy," he says again, sounding awed, rocking against the bulge in Zain's jeans, grunting slightly.

"But I didn't make you, did I?" Zain asks, a bit panicky at the thought of making someone.

Harry laughs. "No!" He kisses Zain's cheeks. "I could've very easily pushed you away. Or gone for a different dream. We could have taught Safaa some more potions, but," he grins, kissing Zain again. "How could I have said no, when you kiss me like that."

"Very easily probably," Zain says drily, because Harry didn't seem like he would do anything he didn't want to and he still remembers Markus's burnt hand.

"No," Harry smiles, stroking his thumbs over Zain's cheeks. "Not easily at all, my darling," he says softly and leans down to kiss Zain again.

Zain gets lost in him, his closeness, his taste, his skin and flesh beneath his hands.

They move in front of the fire and Harry looks as lovely riding him, his hair falling around his face and the flames playing across his skin, shadows stark, as he did in the haze of Zain's dreams. He feels more real, too, sweat dripping down his chest and onto Zain, his breath brushing against Zain's lips in harsh pants.

He doesn't vanish after, lying heavy atop Zain until he whines, sitting up and letting Zain slip out of him, his eyes fluttering. He still doesn't move away though, lying back down on Zain and tilting his head to kiss him, cupping his face.

"I'm sorry, my darling," he breathes, his thumb stroking the corner of Zain's mouth. "I promised you a bed, didn't I?"

"And dinner," Zain says, feeling languid and sated. He could stay here for the rest of his life.

"And dinner," Harry repeats softly, kissing him chastely and smiling down at him, his whole face soft. "A witch never breaks her promise," he smiles and gets up.

Zain watches him walk away, gloriously naked, and decides he's too lazy to move, contend to watch Harry move around his kitchen, humming.

He pushes himself up when Harry comes back, carrying a tray of bread and little cubes of cheeses, pickles and tomatoes, olives and salami.

"Here, my darling,"Harry says, settling himself across Zain's legs, still naked as the day he was born, kissing him, before feeding him a tomato.

"I can eat on my own, you know," Zain says, amused but mostly desperate for anything Harry offers him, the food, the soft touch to his chin, his kisses.

"Let me spoil you a bit," Harry smiles and pops an olive into his own mouth.

Zain doesn't really see a reason to protest, not when he's free to touch Harry's skin, not when Harry sighs whenever Zain strokes his thumbs over the tattoos on his hips or presses a kiss to his ribs. It still felt like a dream, being with Harry, but it wasn't unreal anymore, the fire hot at his back and Harry on his lap, the tomatoes sweet and the olives tangy in his mouth.

"Let's go to bed," Harry says and pulls him up. Zain follows.

"Hello," Harry smiles, pulling Zain inside and kissing him. "It's been too long, hasn't it?" he asks, running his hands down Zain's torso.

"We had the dreams," Zain says, pressing Harry against the wall. It had been too long and the dreams were nice, but nowhere near as good as feeling Harry's actual skin under his hands.

"Dreams," Harry scoffs, then grins, cupping Zain's cheek and kissing him again. "Come, I need to finish a potion before we go to bed."

"Am I allowed to watch?" Zain asks, surprised, letting himself be pulled towards the fireplace where a small pot is bubbling happily. 

"Of course," Harry says. "I'll turn out better if you're close. Hand me the mint, please," he adds, settling in front of the fire and frowning down at a book laying next to him, the pages creased and stained. It looks like Harry's scribbled all over it and Zain isn't sure anyone is actually able to decipher it.

"What are you making?" he asks, curious, leaning his cheek against Harry's shoulder to try and read. 

"Fertility potion," Harry says, distracted, linking his fingers with Zain. "One of the women in the village asked."

"Is it difficult?" Zain frowns, trying to figure out if the drawing of a cat belonged to the recipe or if Harry had simply doodled.

"Nah," Harry says dismissively. "Magic isn't difficult if you know how. Just takes a while. And it'll be much more potent now that you're here," he adds, taking the mint from Zain and ripping it into hazardous pieces. 

Zain blinks. "Why?" he asks and then can't help himself. "Don't you have to cut it neatly?"

"You've read too much Harry Potter," Harry dismisses him, cupping Zain's chin and kissing him softly.

"Why is it more potent if I'm here?" Zain asks again, when Harry starts stirring lazily, his mouth attached to Zain's jaw.

"Because you love me, obviously," Harry says, setting the spoon down and pulling Zain forward. "We should have sex here, actually," he says, kissing Zain's jaw again. "It will help."

"Oh, will it?" Zain laughs, settling between Harry's legs. "Well, then. Looks like we don't have a choice. Wouldn't want to make a weak potion."

"I'm serious," Harry laughs, gasping when Zain rolls his hips down. "But playful is good. It will make a happy baby."

"What else will make a happy baby?" Zain asks, sucking on Harry's neck.

Harry moans. "Whatever," he says eloquently, letting his knees fall open. "Darling, come on!"

"Rushing will make it colicky," Zain teases, licking Harry's nipple, mouthing at his skin. Harry moans, clutching at Zain's shoulders.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Zain asks, popping another grape in his mouth.

Harry continues to frown at him. "Do you have a witch in your family?"

Zain shrugs, confused. "Only if you count Safaa."

Harry purses his lips, running his hand over Zain's thigh. "No," he says thoughtful. "But she is unusually powerful for her age and level of training. And you," he frowns. "You must have a witch in your family."

"Why?" Zain asks, brushing a lock of hair behind Harry's ear. "What's got you thinking that?"

"Rushing the potion will make babies colicky," Harry says.

"What?" Zain asks, then remembers. "I was just running my mouth, love."

"Hm," Harry makes, sceptically, biting into an apple, still frowning at Zain. "And you call me into your dreams."

"You said that was because we're connected."

"But we weren't exactly, were we?" Harry says slowly, leaning across to kiss Zain. "Don't worry, my darling. It is nothing bad. I am just wondering."

"I don't know of any witches," Zain says, rubbing his nose against Harry's. "You ready for bed?"

"Yea," Harry nods. "Go and see if you can get Louis and Niall to come in. It's getting cold during the nights."

"I'll try," Zain sighs, pushing himself up. Niall he might be able to catch and cuddle into submission. Louis'd rather scratch him than do anything he didn't want to do.

He wraps Harry's jacket around himself and slips into his wellies, grabbing the torch Harry always keeps by the door. 

"Louis," he calls, though he already knows Louis won't come. He finds him at his favourite spot on the garden wall, though, so at least he wasn't hiding.

"Hey," he says. "Wanna come in for the night?"

Louis looks at him disdainfully. 

"Alright," Zain nods. "You seen Niall?"

Louis turns his head away. Zain sighs and turns away, clicking his tongue. "Niall, Nialler!" he calls and hears the answering meow from the rose bushes. 

"Hello, baby," he coos, crouching down even though Niall wasn't really a baby anymore. "Wanna come inside?" he asks, reaching his hand out.

Niall rubs his cheek against it, coming easily. Zain picks him up, stroking his chin and belly and kissing his head. He smelled like dirt and outside, but he was still so soft. 

Louis's already sitting in the hallway when Zain gets back inside, looking at Zain like everything was Zain's fault. Zain snorts and drops Niall onto the floor, taking off his coat and boots. Louis's already bossing Niall around again, catching him with a paw and licking his face resolutely. Harry had warned him that Louis liked bossing the other cats around, but it was still amusing to see.

"Did you get Louis?" Harry asks when Zain steps into the kitchen.

"He decided to join us, yes," Zain says. 

Harry snorts. "He's just a cat," he says. "Stop treating him like he's lord of the manor."

"He certainly thinks he is," Zain says, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and kissing his shoulder. "You let him have the chair last time I was here because he wouldn't move."

Harry shrugs, making a non-committal sound. "Let's go to bed," he says instead of answering, pulling Zain with him.

Zain goes easily.

"Zain, darling? Zain!" Harry whispers, his lips soft on Zain's cheek.

Zain grunts and rolls over.

"Darling," Harry says again, his fingers soft on Zain's skin.

"Am I dreaming?" Zain asks, confused, his eyes heavy with sleep. He blinks, taking in his bedroom ceiling and the darkness of the room, and Harry, his hair a mess and his eyes swollen with tears. "Why are you crying?" he asks, cupping Harry's cheeks.

"I had a dream," Harry sniffs, leaning down to kiss Zain's eyelids. "But you're fine, aren't you, my darling?"

"Yea?" Zain says, still mostly confused. He strokes his thumb over Harry's cheek and tries to understand why Harry was here, in what was definitely his room in the middle of the night.

"I'll make you a potion," Harry says, like Zain hasn't spoken, kissing Zain's cheek softly and stroking a hand down his chest. "I'll be right back."

He blinks as Harry vanishes out his door, wearing the t-shirt he always wears to sleep and jogging bottoms, looking barely dressed. Then it clicks and he snaps upright, rushing to put something on himself. Harry was in his house, going to his kitchen to make a potion and Zain isn't sure how he got in, but his mother definitely shouldn't be the first to find him in the kitchen.

He rushes downstairs quietly and stops dead at the kitchen door. His mother is sitting at the table, sipping tea and staring at the table with a far-away expression and Harry's standing at the stove, sniffing slightly. They both look at him when he stumbles in.

"I said I'd be back, darling," Harry says, turning back to the stove for a moment before rising to Zain, cupping his cheeks and kissing the corner of his mouth softly. "You could have stayed in bed."

"I'm fine," Zain says automatically, stroking Harry's side soothingly. "Mum?" he asks, confused.

She smiles weakly and reaches her hand out for him. Harry squeezes him once and lets him go.

"Mum?" Zain asks again, sitting down next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

She sniffs, taking his hands. Zain looks from her to Harry, who's back working on his potion, and back at her. "Did you let Harry in?" he asks.

"He was worried about you," she says like that's an explanation. 

Zain rubs her back, watches her takes a sip of tea with teary eyes and tries to figure out what the question to ask is.

"Did you know I had a sister?" his mother asks and Zain blinks at her.

"No," he says slowly, not sure what that had to do with anything. Or how Zain would have known.

She sniffs. "She was older than me by a bit. She was a witch, you know," she says, her eyes flittering to Harry.

Zain follows her gaze, rubbing her back.

Harry looks back at him, his eyes dark in the twilight of the kitchen, the gas of the stove hissing slightly. Zain has to think about the last time they were together, about how Harry had been so sure Zain had a witch in his family.

"What happened to her?" he asks when his mother doesn't speak. Harry turns away again, letting Zain turn his gaze back on his mum. 

"She died when I was fifteen. Drowned," she frowns, stroking Zain's hair from his forehead. "It was an accident, mostly," she says softly. "But they were so angry at her stealing," she scoffs slightly. "stealing her husband. And I didn't want it to happen to Safaa."

"Mum," Zain says, his chest tight. "I'd never let anything happen to Safaa." 

"I know," she sniffs, wiping her face on her sleeve. 

She takes another sip of her drink. Zain looks up at Harry, who's already looking back, pale even in the low light of the kitchen.

"But it's too late now, anyways, isn't it?" his mum asks, straightening slightly, her back popping. "Your witch ran all the way from his cottage because he dreamt you had a cold."

"What?" Zain says. He's been asking that too often lately. "I'm not ill."

"I didn't know it was just a cold," Harry says from the stove, turning the gas off and carrying a mug of tea over. At least it smells like tea. "It was dark."

"Zain's not good with being ill," his mum says, watching Harry push the mug at Zain and stroke his hand through Zain's hair. "It was probably just his whining that made it seem so dark."

"I'm not ill," Zain repeats, taking a sip of the potion and sneezing. "And I don't whine."

"Of course not," Harry soothes, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Go back to bed. I'll clean up and come join you."

Zain hesitates but his mum is watching him, tired and resigned. He leans down to kiss her hair, hugging her for a moment.

"I'm fine," she says, patting his arm. "Go back to bed."

"Are you really ok?" Zain asks.

She pats his cheek. "I shouldn't have reacted that way, anyways," she sighs, looking older than Zain has ever seen her. He kisses her cheek. "And you'll take good care of Safaa, I know. And he'll take good care of you," she smiles. "I'll get used to it. Go to bed."

"You as well," Zain says, squeezing her once more.

"Do you want me to make you a potion?" Harry asks as Zain leaves, taking his mug with him. He has a feeling Harry would follow him straight away otherwise.

"I know how to make a sleeping potion, love," his mum says, a slight laugh in her voice.

Zain blinks, carefully walking up the stairs, trying to wrap his head around everything. He's still not asleep when Harry slides in bed with him, kissing his cheek.

"Close your eyes," Harry whispers, wrapping his arms around Zain. Zain does.

When he wakes up Harry's gone. He blinks, turning to the side and stretching. There is a steaming mug of tea or potion on his bedside table, so he can't be gone for long.

He takes a slow sip as he gets up, dressing properly and hurrying down the stairs. He doesn't want to leave Mum and Harry along for too long. He's still not sure he completely understands what went on last night, Harry crying because Zain was supposedly ill and his mum talking about her sister the only things that stand out starkly.

His mother is sitting at the table with Doniya, the pot Harry had been cooking in yesterday still on the stove.

"Hey," he says, looking around like maybe he's just missed Harry on his first look around.

"He's gone home," his mum says, a frown around her mouth.

"Oh," Zain says, his shoulders slumping, feeling bereft.

"He said to take your potion at least twice a day but as often as you like," Doniya adds, frowning at him. "Mum was just explaining why she freaked out last month and now lets a witch brew potions in our kitchen."

"Doniya," Mum sighs, looking weary.

Doniya looks at her sternly. "I think we deserve a proper explanation."

"We do," Zain nods, coughing slightly.

"You should take your potion," his mum frowns at him.

"I'm not ill, mum," Zain says again, but goes to pour himself another mug. It just tastes like herbal tea and he'd rather avoid a discussion about this.

"I don't know what more there is to tell," mum sighs.

"You were freaked, mum!" Doniya says. "And now you're just gonna let Zain run off with his witch? Which you should have told me, by the way," she adds to Zain, pointing her finger.

Zain shrugs. She rolls her eyes back at him. It feels nice, to have something familiar in the middle of this mess. Doniya exasperated with him definitely was familiar.

"I don't know what to tell you," Mum says, sounding resigned. "His witch turned up here in the middle of the night, incoherent and babbling about Zain being sick. I knew it was too late then."

"Why?" Doniya asks, exasperated. "Mum, you're not making sense."

"It was the same with my sister and her husband. She'd wake up screaming when he broke his toe, and cry all night because he'd have a cold, you know."

"Mum," Doniya huffs.

"It's just. It just is. I can't explain it," she huffs, sounding exactly like Doniya. "And I know I shouldn't have reacted like I did. But I thought it kept you away from the witch so I didn't," she looks off to the side. "I didn't want to take it back. It's not safe around witches. People always turn on them."

"Do you really believe that, mum?" Zain asks, frowning at her.

"I know it," she says. "They were perfectly fine coming to Rebecca for potions until Robert fell in love with her. Suddenly, she was stealing men, enchanting them. And then they drowned her for it.

I know I can't stop you," she continues right away, ignoring Doniya trying to speak and frowning at Zain. "So I won't. But you have to be careful! You have to promise me."

"I promise," Zain nods, watching the lines on his mother's face seem to deepen. He always thought she looked young. But she looked old now, drawn.

"What about Safaa?" Doniya asks, rubbing their mother's back.

"I won't have her be a witch. I can't keep Zain, but Safaa won't be a witch."

"Mum!" Doniya says. "She loves it."

"No," their mum says, shaking her head resolutely. "She won't. She's too young and she won't understand what it will mean. Your father always made it a game and I told him not to!"

"Mum!"

"No. Zain can keep his witch if he wants to, but Safaa is not going near him."

Zain and Doniya share another look and then Waliyah bursts into the kitchen, interrupting them.

"What's with the faces?" she asks, grabbing a slice of bread and folding it into her mouth.

"Manners," Doniya and Mum say as one.

Waliyah rolls her eyes and swallows. "Whatever. Do we just have that herbal tea?"

"I'll make a new pot," Doniya says, getting up.

"Hey."

Harry looks up from where he's kneeling in his flower beds, his face breaking into a smile.

"Hey," he says, getting up and brushing the dirt from his knees before wrapping his arms around Zain and pulling him into a kiss.

"How are you?" he asks right after, his hand going to Zain's forehead.

"I'm not ill," Zain says, again, leaning back slightly. "I don't know why you think I am. And why it freaked you out enough that mum let you in."

"I had a dream," Harry says, pressing his lips to Zain's cheek. "But maybe I was wrong. It doesn't feel as dark anymore," he frowns. "Are you drinking your potion?"

"Yea," Zain says, slowly giving up on making sense of witches and their ideas. "But Saf still won't be your little witchling."

"I'm sure she'll come around," Harry says, stroking Zain's cheek. "Just give her time. It's hard losing your sister when your young, especially like that."

"Did you -?" Zain frowns.

"No," Harry smiles, a bit wistfully. "Come on, Louis's missed you."

"As if," Zain says, but follows Harry easily into his house and home and then in front of his fire.

He's already looking forward to curling up around him and fall asleep without having to hurry back home before his mother freaks out.

He steps into Harry's house, feeling relieved and happy, and almost stumbles across Louis, who hisses, displeased before stalking away with his tail in the air.

"Told you he missed you," Harry smiles and kisses Zain again. Zain doesn't even try to protest.

Maybe it's Zain's imagination, but the cottage seems to be surrounded by more flowers now, flowers blooming despite it being late summer, the ivy green and plush, almost seeming to swallow the house whole.

Like always, when Zain enters the house now, it is warm and welcoming, and smelling faintly of potions bubbling on the stove and above the fire. 

"Hey, Louis," he greets the cat who looks at him but doesn't move from his spot in the middle of the hallway. Zain steps over him carefully, almost stumbling over Niall who comes rushing at his feet, attacking them. 

"Finally," Harry says, without looking up. "You said you'd be here for dinner."

"I am," Zain says, catching Harry around the waist and kissing him. 

"Debatable," Harry says, pushing Zain towards the table. "Sit. I am starving."

"You could have started without me," Zain says, catching Harry's hand and pressing a kiss to it. He loves Harry's new ring, the one that had made an appearance last week and Harry hasn't taken off since. "I'm sorry, Mum came home late and you know she's been trying. She says hi."

"Does she?" Harry beams, stroking his thumb over Zain's cheek. "Thank you, darling," he says, settling into the seat across from Zain and starting to eat right away.

"Don't I get fed today?" Zain tries, hooking his feet around Harry's beneath the table.

"You were late," Harry says, shaking his head with a smirk. "But you can make it up to me later," he grins. 

"Looking forward to it," Zain smirks back, trailing his foot up Harry's shin. Harry laughs, his eyes sparkling with happiness and mischief. 

They stumble up the stairs and into Harry's bed as soon as their dinner is halfway gone, Niall batting at their legs until they close the door in front of his face. 

Harry laughs, pulling his clothes off hazardously while Zain just watches the ling lines of his body appear, watches the light of the setting sun play golden across his skin.

"Come," Harry grins at him, beckoning. He sighs when Zain presses him to the mattress, cupping his face. "My darling," he smiles, stroking the corners of his eyes with his thumbs. 

"My witch," Zain says, kissing Harry's forehead and nose and the dimples in his cheek. 

"Why are you wearing that ring now?" Zain asks idly, when the glint of it catches his eye. He strokes his hands over Harry's skin and catching his hand, holding it up to the light. 

"Because you want me to," Harry yawns, rubbing his nose against Zain's ribs and kissing his skin, his knees falling open.

"I don't," Zain says, frowning, stoking his hands over Harry's skin. "I mean, I do, it's nice, but I don't remember it at all. It can't have been me."

"No, it was," Harry says, sitting up and turning Zain onto his back, straddling him. He leans down to kiss him, his eyes crinkling softly. "You long for it in our dreams, for me to wear your ring. It manifested," he smiles, looking down at his ring where it sits on his hand, bracing himself on Zain's shoulders. 

"It's really solid, too," he adds, still smiling happily as he starts rocking his hips. "You must have been desperate for it."

"What?" Zain asks. 

Sometimes Harry still said things that made no sense. He always said them like he expected Zain to already know the answer, causal and not explaining until Zain had asked all the right questions, frowning at Zain in confusion the whole time, like Zain was asking him what colour the sky was.

Harry shrugs, licking his lips, his eyes fluttering close as he rocks down against Zain.

"Darling," Zain says, taking him by the hips to hold him still. "What does that mean? It manifested?"

"Just," Harry shrugs, slightly breathless and very distracted, arching his back. "In dreams, sometimes the things come over to life if you want them bad enough."

"What?" Zain says, a bit alarmed. "Anything?"

"Hm?" Harry makes, before he realises that Zain's properly spooked and stills. He leans down, kissing Zain soothingly.

"Not anything, darling. It's just in shared dreams. Like the combined force of will. It helps it along. And not everything. Just. Some things," he frowns. 

"That's vague," Zain sighs.

Harry shrugs, stroking his thumb over Zain's cheek. "Magic," he whispers and Zain has to snort.

"So you want the ring?" he asks a bit awed, kissing Harry's chin. It made sense now perhaps, his fascination with it. The longing and satisfaction he felt when he looks at it.

"Darling," Harry laughs, kissing Zain's nose. "Of course I want the ring." 

He smiles. "I want you to be mine forever."

"It's a good thing I want that as well, then, isn't it?" Zain asks, cupping Harry's cheeks and stroking his soft skin.

"Yes," Harry nods, his eyes sparkling as he looks down at him. "You're so full of love," he says, leaning down, hovering above Zain with his lips almost touching Zain, but not quite, his breath washing over Zain's lips. "You shine with it. I wanted you from the moment I first saw you."

"You glow," Zain answers a bit dumbly. He still feels struck dumb by Harry most of the times, the way he seems to illuminate every room he enters. He lays his hands on Harry's thighs, stroking his skin. He should be used to it by now. But he isn't, not the slightest bit. "I can't look away from you."

"Good," Harry smiles, pressing his lips gently to the corner of Zain's mouth. "I never want you to. You're mine. Forever."

"I am," Zain agrees, turning his head to catch Harry's lips in a proper kiss, holding him close. Everything about Harry was warm and soft and inviting, Zain's fingertips tingling where he touches him.

"I love you," Harry whispers against his lips, starting to move again, his hands sliding down Zain's skin.

"I love you," Zain answers and watches Harry move above him, his hair falling into his eyes and bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, smiling down at Zain like he's won the world.

epilogue 

The door bangs open, startling Zain from where he's trying to get Louis to give up his newest stray — Zain was considering Liam, because it did kind of sound like it when the kitten meowed — so Zain can check him over.

"Take your daughter," Harry says, holding out his perfect and lovely baby to Zain and shooing Niall off the counter. Louis hisses at him from where he's trapped Liam beneath his paws, cleaning him vigorously.

"What's got you in a hurry?" Zain asks, taking Hayat from Harry and kissing her cheek. She's the cutest baby, Zain is sure, and Harry loves dressing her in little animal onesies, maxing out the cuteness factor.

"Oh, Mrs Jenkins says she needs a headache potion," Harry says, rushing through the kitchen. "I want to give it to her as soon as possible, she's just starting to warm up to me, I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Darling, who cares what they think," Zain sighs, kissing Hayat's cheek again.

"Your mother," Harry says drily, making Zain shrugs in agreement. "And you know she only lets Safaa apprentice with me because Mrs Jenkins and her gang are warming up."

"Her gang," Zain snorts, kissing Hayat's hand.

"They are a gang," Harry says primly, smiling at him. He looks so gorgeous with his hair piled on his head and his wide blouse fluttering around him. "They are a group of people who regularly associate. I looked it up! And I'm pretty sure they have a gambling ring going on."

"You're paranoid," Zain grins. "But it's good that Mrs Jenkins and her gang," Harry rolls his eyes at Zain's sarcasm, "are warning up to you. I thought it was just when I was with you."

"Nah," Harry says, waving a hand. "But I'm pretty sure it's just Hayat's perfect little face, right, my darling? You're too perfect not to love."

Hayat looks back at him, blinking.

"That's right," Zain agrees, kissing her cheek again. She was perfect.

"Try and get her to sleep, please," Harry says, leading through his notes. "I need you to fuck me in front of the fire. I want this potion to be perfect."

"Of course," Zain says, hiding his grin against Hayat's hair and pretending to sigh. "Everything for your potions."

Harry grins up at him. "For the potions," he smirks, biting his lower lip seductively. It ends up looking more ridiculous than anything, but Zain's weak for him. 

Louis newest kitten takes that moment to meow pathetically and Harry blinks, turning to look at it for the first time.

"Who's that, Louis?" he asks sternly. "We told you to keep your strays outside until we check them out. I don't want Hayat to get fleas."

"That's Liam," Zain says. "He dragged him inside just before you came back."

Harry sighs, put out, pointing his finger. His wedding ring glints golden in the light, the sight of it still sending butterflies through Zain. "Put your daughter to bed and then take care of Louis's newest baby. And then sex!"

"Sure, darling," Zain says, leaning over to kiss Harry's cheek.

"Come on, my love," Zain adds to Hayat, kissing her head, when Harry just sighs at him. "You heard it. Time for bed."

She blinks up at him, Harry's bright green eyes looking back at him, and smashes her hand in his mouth. Zain doesn't think he's ever been more in love. 

and they lived happily ever after